“Sloop chose it,” she said. “I hate it. There’s so much water, I can hardly breathe in there.”
She slid her closet shut and twisted left and right to examine her reflection in the mirrored doors.
“You look good,” he said.
“Do I look Mexican enough?” she asked. “With the white clothes?”
He said nothing.
“No jeans today,” she said. “I’m sick of trying to look like I was born a cowgirl in Amarillo.”
“You look good,” he said again.
“Seven hours,” she said. “Six and a half, if Hack drives fast.”
He nodded. “I’m going to find Bobby.”
She stretched tall and kissed him on the cheek.
“Thanks for staying,” she said. “It helped me.”
He said nothing.
“Join us for breakfast,” she said. “Twenty minutes.”
Then she walked slowly out of the room, on her way to wake her daughter.
Reacher dressed and found a different way back into the house. The whole place was a warren. He came out through a living room he hadn’t seen before and into the foyer with the mirror and the rifles. He opened the front door and stepped out on the porch. It was already hot. The sun was coming from low on his right, and it was casting harsh early shadows. The shadows made the yard look pocked and lumpy.
He walked down to the barn and went in the door. The heat and the smell were as bad as ever, and the horses were awake and restless. But they were clean. They had water. Their feed troughs had been filled. He found Bobby asleep in an unoccupied stall, on a bed of clean straw.
“Rise and shine, little brother,” he called.
Bobby stirred and sat up, confused as to where he was, and why. Then he remembered, and went tense with resentment. His clothes were dirty and hay stalks clung to him all over.
“Sleep well?” Reacher asked.
“They’ll be back soon,” Bobby said. “Then what do you think is going to happen?”
Reacher smiled. “You mean, am I going to tell them I made you clean out the barn and sleep in the straw?”
“You couldn’t tell them.”
“No, I guess I couldn’t,” Reacher said. “So areyou going to tell them?” Bobby said nothing. Reacher smiled again.
“No, I didn’t think you would,” he said. “So stay in here until noontime, then I’ll let you in the house to get cleaned up for the main event.” “What about breakfast?” “You don’t get any.” “But I’m hungry.” “So eat the horse food. Turns out there’s bags and bags of it, after all.”
He went back to the kitchen and found the maid brewing coffee and heating a skillet.
“Pancakes,” she said. “And that will have to do. They’ll want a big lunch, so that’s where my morning is going.”
“Pancakes are fine,” he said.
He walked on into the silent parlor and listened for sounds from above. Ellie and Carmen should be moving around somewhere. But he couldn’t hear anything. He tried to map the house in his head, but the layout was too bizarre. Clearly it had started out a substantial ranch house, and then random additions had been made whenever necessary. Overall, there was no coherence to it.
The maid came in with a stack of plates. Four of them, with four sets of silverware and four paper napkins piled on top.
“I assume you’re eating in here,” she said.
Reacher nodded. “But Bobby isn’t. He’s staying in the barn.”
“Why?”
“I think a horse is sick.”
The maid dumped the stack of plates and slid one out, leaving three of everything.
“So I’ll have to carry it down to him, I guess,” she said, irritated. “I’ll take it,” Reacher said. “You’re very busy.”
He followed her back to the kitchen and she piled the first four pancakes off the skillet onto a plate. Added a little butter and maple syrup. Reacher wrapped a knife and a fork into a napkin and picked up the plate and walked back out into the heat. He found Bobby where he had left him. He was sitting up, doing nothing. “What’s this?” he said.
“Breakfast,” Reacher said. “I had a change of heart. Because you’re going to do something for me.”