Dark Paradise by Tami Hoag Page A

stood
    in her way of suing him for divorce and taking away half of everything
    he owned, including the Stars and Bars. They fought bitterly over his
    refusal to release her from her marriage vows, but he was unrelenting.
    He would not let her go. His obsession for her went too deep. In
    retrospect, J.D. thought he probably could not have let go even if he
    had wanted.
     
    They had stood right there on this porch, J.D. and his daddy, looking
    down across the ranch yard at the sturdy old buildings, the corral, the
    horses, the valley and mountains beyond. Lines of strain were etched in
    Tom Rafferty's face like scars, his eyes were bleak with hopelessness.
    He looked like a man waiting to die.
     
    "Never love a woman, son," he mumbled as if he were remembering words
    told to him by someone long ago. "Never love a woman. Love the land."
     
     
     
    Citizens for the Eden Valley ordinarily met in the Community center, kind
    euphemism for a room off the fire station garage filled with rickety
    folding chairs and mismatched card tables people had donated over the
    years.
     
    That this meeting was being held in the Mystic Moose Lodge was a bad
    sign as far as J.D. was concerned. The enemy had invited them into its
    camp. Some saw it as an Overture of friendship, an invitation to work
    cooperatively with the newcomers. J.D. wasn't so optimistic.
     
    The meeting room was bright and clean with ruby carpeting on the floor
    and rustic beams across the ceiling. It smelled pleasantly of fresh
    coffee instead of diesel fuel and exhaust fumes like the community
    center. The tables were draped in hunter-green linen. The chairs were
    all new. J.D. chose to stand at the back of the room.
     
    There were perhaps a hundred people in attendance, milling around,
    buzzing premeeting gossip. Most of them were lifelong citizens of New
    Eden. Businessmen and women from the community. Ranchers who had, like
    J.D., quit work hours early to clean up and put on freshly pressed
    western shirts, Sunday trousers, and good boots.
     
    Scattered among the common folk were new Hollywood types, artists,
    environmental activists, even Bryce.
     
    J.D.'s hackles went up at the sight of Bryce working the room. He made
    the rounds, singling out the mayor, the chairman of the citizens
    commission, the banker's wife, dazzling them with his smile, and
    removing any wariness they might have had with a phony show of concern.
    As if he gave a damn about the people of New Eden.
     
    What Bryce cared about was power. That had seemed glaringly apparent to
    J.D. the first time they had met from the way Bryce threw money around
    to the way he surrounded himself with people who believed he was
    important. J.D. refused to be impressed by him, an affront that had set
    the tone for their acquaintance. Bryce wanted to be king of the mountain
    along the south face of the Absaroka range, but J.D. wouldn't play the
    game.
     
    No Rafferty had ever bowed to a king - real or otherwise. No Rafferty ever
    would.
     
    As if he sensed J.D.'s eyes on him, Bryce looked up and their gazes
    caught and held for one burning moment. A slow smile pulled across
    Bryce's mouth. His eyes gleamed with amusement. The look clearly said
    I've got the keys to the kingdom within my grasp, Rafferty, and you
    can't do a damn thing to stop me. Then he moved on to kiss another cheek
    and shake another hand.
     
    "Hey, J.D." Red Grusin stuck out a hand and clapped him on the shoulder.
    "Don't see much of you these days."
     
    As owner of the Hell and Gone, Red had never seen much of him. J.D. had
    better things to do than sit around a honky-tonk and drink beer. "Will
    spends enough time with you all for the both of us," he said with a half
    smile.
     
    For all he knew, that was where Will was at that very moment. His
    brother had yet to make an appearance in the meeting room.
     
    Grusin chuckled. He was a big man with skinny legs and a thick chest and
    belly that made him look as if he were wearing an