Bitter Rain (Kate Fox Book 3) Page 19

  “What are you going to do with it?” I asked.

  Zeke’s little face dropped even more. “It’s for Dugans’ baby. She’s got a disease and she needs help.”

  A lump stuck in my throat. I jumped from my stool. “I think the donation can is here.”

  Twyla stepped from the kitchen carrying two plates heaping with burgers and fries. When she lifted her head and saw me reaching for the bar rag covering the donation can, her eyes flew open. “Hey, wait.”

  I stopped mid-grab and stared at her. “Mose and Zeke are donating to Dugans.”

  Twyla’s eyes took on a frantic glint. She set a plate on the bar and held out her hand to the twins. “I’ll take it.”

  It wouldn’t mean as much to them to hand it over to Twyla as it would to drop it in the can. “Here.” I grabbed the rag with one hand and closed my fingers on the plastic lid of the coffee can. I swung around and held it down for the boys.

  Mose’s little fist clutched the five dollars, and he reached out to slip it through the slot on top and stopped. He looked at the can, then up at me.

  Zeke’s eyes opened wide and his mouth followed. As if someone flipped a switch, both boys howled with laughter.

  I turned to Twyla. She stood stone-still, holding the plate, a look of horror on her face. Even Josh looked rattled.

  My attention drew back to the can I held. I smiled back at myself. Or, rather, a candid shot of me taken a few years ago at Robert’s branding beamed from the side of the can where it had been pasted.

  I gulped and twisted the can around to see the lettering. “Vote Now!”

  The jukebox kept cranking some country caterwauling, making it feel as though the whole bar held their breath to see my reaction. I probably held my breath, too.

  How? What? I didn’t even…

  Twyla stuttered like a car trying to turn over. “You. It’s. We thought. You have to…”

  My jaw opened and shut, then opened again. “I have to what?”

  “We thought. Well, you’re gonna start dating, and we kind of just thought it would be funny.”

  I might burst into flames. Mad? Hell, yes. Embarrassed? More than I’d ever thought possible. Betrayed. That’s where I stuck.

  Twyla’s face looked pale. “It was a joke. You weren’t supposed to see it.”

  My mouth felt full of sand, hot wind blowing through my head. “But the whole rest of the county?”

  “Oh, honey, I’m sorry.”

  I didn’t know what the twins thought. I couldn’t look at Josh or anyone else in the Long Branch. My goal was to exit with dignity. I brushed past Louise, who might have been as mortified as me. Probably not.

  19

  I drove outside of town about six miles to Bud and Twyla’s house. They lived in an old stucco house, one of the first prefab kits Sears sold in the 1930s. A few disused corrals surrounded the place, along with an old shed that probably housed a Studebaker in its day. It was packed full of junk and as messy as Twyla said it would be.

  It didn’t make me proud, but I admit to throwing a few things around while I searched for the pump. A series of broken railroad ties flew from a pile to land in a heap a few feet away. One cracked terra cotta flower pot might have shattered against a corner.

  How was I supposed to instill confidence and capability to the people of Grand County after a stunt like this from my own family? Who would take me seriously?

  I carried a gun, for the love of cheese. I was the law. The Law. You couldn’t put a can with my name on it in the bar to vote for my next husband.

  Except if you were a Fox in Grand County. Then, your brothers and sisters, cousins, friends, and relations could whoop it up at your expense. Damn it. I fumed and fussed. Cursed and howled. It didn’t solve a thing.

  One after another, my brothers and sisters and sisters-in-law called. I didn’t answer. But when I saw Kyle’s number, I punched it on.

  Kyle sounded winded. “Can you meet me in Dry Creek?”

  More problems. “What? Now?”

  The sound of wind brushed the phone. “Yeah. There’s stuff I need to tell you.”

  “Is this about Shelly?”

  Impatience beat in his words. “Not just her. I don’t want to talk about it on the phone.”

  His demand hit me like needle grass on bare legs. “Why not?”

  “Because I need to show you or you won’t believe me.”

  One more person wanting something from me. “This has to do with the sister who doesn’t want to be found?”

  He didn’t increase his volume, but the urgency amplified. “She’s in trouble and trying to protect me and Alex.”

  I was bone-tired, my legs ached, my eyes felt like all the sand on Wild Horse Hill had settled into them. “You’re going to have to tell me more than that if I’m going all the way up to Dry Creek tonight.”

  “Just do me this favor.”

  Wrong thing to say to me tonight. “No. Just no. No to you. To my family. To all the girls out there telling us not to find them. I’m tired, I’m sick of racking up IOUs that will never be paid and getting slapped for it. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

  I hung up. Yeah, Kyle didn’t deserve the consequences of my family’s joke. It wasn’t his fault I hadn’t drawn better boundaries with my kin. But Dry Creek was not my jurisdiction. Shelly was not my sister. And damn it. I’d had my fill.

  Sarah called and I let it go to voicemail, then listened. “I just heard what happened. The can is a pretty shitty thing to do. I don’t know who set it up, but it wasn’t there for more than a day. This isn’t nearly as embarrassing as the time your skirt got stuck in your thong at the student council assembly junior year. Okay, maybe it is. But you survived that, and this will go away, too.”

  I stared up at the night sky, finding Orion’s Belt and the Big Dipper. You’d think with complete lack of light pollution and all the time I’d spent gazing at the sky while checking pregnant cows at night and sitting on the old porch swing at Frog Creek, I’d be able to name more constellations. The constant stars, the rolling hills on either side of the road, the fragrance of rain on sand. Same. Familiar. Home.

  I spoke some of Dad’s wisdom. “It’ll stop hurting when the pain goes away.” My words echoed in the cluttered shed.

  Only because Poupon would need to go out, I gave up the search and drove my sorry butt home. The puddles on my road still forced caution, and I meandered down the road to my shanty.

  With no pump, I’d start bailing, if that’s all I could do. While I bailed, I’d recover from the Kate Fox Dating straw poll and maybe find some humor in it. Though laughing seemed a stretch.

  Then I’d go ahead and feel like a stinky butt, as Lucy would say, for blowing off Kyle. In fact, before the home repair, I’d check on Poupon, then meet Kyle in Dry Creek. If he thought I could help, it was my job to be there.

  I pulled my phone out and called Kyle, but he didn’t answer. I left a message that I’d be on my way soon and hung up.

  Lights winked at me when I topped the hill that led to my house. I’d probably left the switches turned on when I’d tested them earlier. Once REA restored electricity, everything burst to life, whether I was there to rejoice about it or not.

  Josh’s old black Ford parked outside my fence not only explained the lights but piqued my curiosity.

  As soon as I stepped from my car, the low rumble of an engine broke through the usual night’s solitude. I followed the sound to the east side of my house and a blue hose about two inches in diameter snaking from a basement window. It spewed water to create a mini creek cutting through the new sand, away from my house.

  Josh met me on my screened front porch. “I didn’t know you had a dog.”

  The naturalness of him walking out of my front door struck me. “Only keeping him for Diane.”

  He accepted that. “Not really a cow dog.”

  “I don’t have any cows.”

  He held a scoop shovel. “I’d hoped to have your front walk cl
eared before you got here.”

  “What are you doing?”

  He passed me and descended the porch steps, sliding the shovel under the sand and scooping it away from the cracked cement walk. “I had a sump pump at home. Thought you could use some help with your basement.”

  I almost wept. Well, no, I didn’t. But it was damned good of him to help me out like that. “Thanks for bringing the pump. But you don’t need to dig me out, too.”

  He kept shoveling. “That’s why I’m here.”

  I went around back to the decrepit wood garage and found my own scoop shovel. Actually, it came from Frog Creek, along with other tools I figured wouldn’t be missed.

  I changed into a T-shirt and met Josh out front. He’d made good progress, and I pitched in to finish scooping my front walk.

  He grunted and tossed a shovelful of sand. “Sorry about that. Well, the voting thing.”

  My shoulders heated up from the work. “It’s the curse of being a Fox.”

  Scrape, toss. “You’re taking it pretty well.”

  Scoop, lift. “I can either get over it or die.”

  We worked in companionable silence, with a few comments about the roping, the benefits of working cattle with horses or ATVs, the prospects of next year’s Husker football.

  By the time we’d finished the walk, the sump pump had done its best on the basement, and we tromped down into the dampness and shoveled, hauled the sand out in buckets, and swept.

  The moon snuck up on us so that when we finally climbed the cement basement stairs a few hours later, the sliver cast ripples of light across the lake. We plopped down on the metal lawn chairs. My body felt like it weighed twenty tons and it would take an act of Congress to make it move again.

  “It’s beautiful out here,” he whispered.

  I loved that he seemed as much in awe of this scene as I did. As if we sat in church. “It’s really peaceful.”

  At that word, the whole day fell down on my head. I reached for my phone and remembered I’d set it on the dining table to keep it from falling out of my pocket into the water. I pushed myself up, letting a groan escape, and lumbered to find it. Kyle had probably called back, wondering where I was.

  I’d kept my mind busy while I was working, and now suddenly, worry blossomed. I snatched my phone from the table and swiped it on, expecting an irritated voicemail from Kyle, not to mention apologies or explanations from my family.

  One message from Kyle, nothing else. When the voicemail engaged, there was only the sound of wind against the phone, then Kyle’s quiet words. “You’re wrong. Shelly isn’t okay.”

  I took my worn-out bones into the kitchen and jerked open the fridge door. Just as I suspected.

  I pulled out the bottle, grabbed two juice glasses, and headed back out to the porch. I spoke in a quiet voice so as not to disrupt the night too much. “Sad to say, I’ve only got one beer.”

  Josh took the glass I handed him and let me divide the beer between us. “That’s probably a good thing. It’s late.”

  We sipped in silence and Kyle’s last phone call began to eat at me. The longer I sat, the guiltier I felt until I couldn’t stand it. “Do you mind if I make a call?”

  Josh looked startled. “It’s really late.”

  I held my phone. “I know. And I’ll probably wake him up, but Kyle Red Owl needed me earlier and I want to make sure everything is all right.”

  Josh sat back. “Sure. Sheriff business isn’t a nine-to-five, or even ranchers’ hours, I guess.”

  I hit speed dial and waited three rings for Kyle’s voicemail. I left a message. “Okay. He’s probably fine.”

  I downed the last gulp of beer, wishing we had at least one more. I fell back in my chair, head resting on the wall of the house. My eyes dropped closed, and my muscles ached with release. My brain only allowed two exhausted breaths before my eyes popped open and I sat up. “You know, I’m not going to sleep tonight until I hear from Kyle.”

  “Did he sound like he was in trouble earlier?”

  “No.” If he had, I would have hurried to Dry Creek. Wouldn’t I? Of course I would. Unless I was in a snit from my family’s prank. “I’m sure it’s because I’m tired I feel anxious, but I know I won’t relax until I prove to myself what a ninny I am.”

  Josh laughed. “I can’t imagine using Kate Fox and ninny in the same sentence. But if you want to go up to the rez, I’ll go with you.”

  I stood and took his glass. “You’ve already done too much. Thanks, but you should go home.”

  He tagged after me to the kitchen. “I’m not even tired. I wouldn’t mind a ride on a nice spring night.”

  I set the glasses in the sink. “This isn’t a drive for fun. It’s me being sheriff.”

  He gave me an easy grin. “Sure, but it likely won’t amount to more than a drive up to Dry Creek and back. I can help keep you awake.”

  Why did everyone question my every move? My voice came out harder than I intended, and not as rough as I felt. “I appreciate you coming out here to help me. I really do. But now I need you to go home so I can do my job.”

  His smile froze, and I felt like a skunk for hurting his feelings. “Okay. I’ve got to go back to Shorty’s tomorrow pretty early, so I’ll take off.”

  “Let me get your pump.”

  He was already halfway to the door. “We can get it later. If you’re going all the way to the rez, you should get started.”

  I had to skip to make up for his long strides and catch him before the screen door banged shut. “Come out tomorrow night. I’ll make some dinner to thank you for shoveling and pumping.”

  He turned and studied my face. “That’s okay. You’re busy. You don’t need to cook for me.”

  Now I was on the begging side. “I mean it. I’d like for you to come out, and we can relax. It’ll be fun.” The more I talked, the more I convinced myself.

  I must have done a good job because Josh hesitated. “Sounds great. I don’t know when I’ll get done at Shorty’s, so maybe a little bit later?”

  “Perfect.” That might give me time to dust and vacuum and maybe even fix my hair. What a girl I was turning into.

  He gave it another shot. “Sure wish you’d let me go with you tonight.”

  The tight lips and narrowed eyes I shot him let him know what I thought of that comment.

  He laughed. “Okay. See you tomorrow.”

  It’s not that I would’ve minded his company on the drive. That little twinge in my belly told me this cruise might not be a joy ride.

  20

  I changed back into my sheriff browns and cowboy boots. I tried Kyle’s number several times on the way up to Dry Creek and got nothing for the trouble. The more he didn’t answer, the tighter my gut curled. To unravel it, I analyzed the last encounters I’d had with Kyle.

  He was upset about Shelly, of course. He’d been frustrated earlier today when we left the rez. Kyle wasn’t likely to do something dangerous. So why was I jittery and nervous?

  I expected to sail through a quiet and dark Dry Creek now, a little after two a.m. But my hands tightened on the wheel when I saw Frankie’s store lights on and a few cars in the lot. I slowed and pulled in, identifying Barnett’s and Pete Grainger’s sheriff Broncos. This couldn’t be good.

  The moon hurried to the western horizon, but the stars still blazed, probably happy the rain clouds decided to hike out of the area. It felt more like March instead of May, my breath puffing ahead of me.

  I made sure my gun was firmly in my holster and I had both pairs of cuffs on my utility belt before I hurried into the liquor store.

  The bell jingled, and I walked into fluttering fluorescent lighting and the smell of a dank, moldy dishrag with hints of spoiled cabbage. At first, the place looked deserted, then a movement near the front counter caught my eye.

  A black cowboy hat poked from behind the cash register, giving me a dose of dread when I saw Barnett’s scowl beneath the rim. “Damn. You’re like a bad penny.”

>   Scuffling and a muffled cry. Pete Grainger swung the door behind the counter with a squeak. He stepped out, body giving off energy like a coiled spring. “How did you know to come out here?”

  This was all too strange. “I didn’t know. What’s going on?”

  Frankie’s voice carried from the room behind the counter. “Now what?”

  Barnett’s face and hat disappeared, and he spoke above the clack of his boots on the old linoleum as he stomped to the back room. “Kate Fox poking her head where it doesn’t belong.”

  Another muffled grunt. Men’s voices murmuring.

  Grainger’s face looked pale, his brown eyes like tiny alarm buttons.

  I walked to the cash register and leaned over the counter, trying to peer into the back room. “What’s going on, Pete?”

  It was easy to see the athlete Pete must be, with tension coming off him like a runner in the blocks. “A kid. Tried to break in while Frankie was working on his books.”

  Thank goodness Pete was here, instead of only Frankie and Barnett. “Wow, Frankie works late. How did you find out about the break-in? I didn’t hear anything on the radio.”

  Pete shook his head. “Maybe dispatch only called me and Barnett since we’re up here.”

  Something seemed wonky. “It took the both of you?”

  Pete glanced behind him. “Frankie called. Heard a noise and didn’t know. I guess he called us both.”

  I started toward the door to check out this crazy story. “Frankie called? Not dispatch?”

  Cockamamie, that’s what Dad called stories like this that we made up to avoid getting in trouble. But this wasn’t kid mischief, and a time-out probably wouldn’t correct whatever Pete was hiding. I rested my palm on my gun and steadied my nerves.

  Pete nodded. “That’s right. I forgot. Anyway, no need for you to be here, too.”

  Without waiting for any more explanation, I squeezed between Pete and the doorjamb. The door to Frankie’s office stood open only a few steps away.

  Barnett and Frankie spun around with surprised faces. Someone sat in a chair behind them.