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Authors: Sally Kilpatrick

BOOK: Bittersweet Creek
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Julian
I
wanted to be at home with a cold one. Instead I spent the evening in the Satterfield barn putting the finishing touches on the stalls I'd made for both Beatrice and Star. The two of them were still getting along quite well—except for the short-lived experiment in which Star attempted to nurse from Beatrice. Moon blind and decrepit or not, the mare had made short work of letting the calf know that well had run dry.
“Now, take a look at this, Beatrice.” I led the horse into her new stall and coaxed her nose to the bin where I'd put some hay and a few oats. She swished her tail as she ate.
The calf wobbled around the corner and I showed her the stall next to Beatrice's. I'd put her trough down a little lower and poured in some sweet feed for her. She sniffed at the trough and tentatively licked it but gave a strangled moo that suggested she'd rather have a bottle, thank you very much.
At a shrill whistle, she turned and bolted for the gate. Romy stood on the middle slat of the gate and leaned over to hold out a bottle. One look at her took my breath away. Her wild hair hung just above her shoulders, and she giggled as she struggled to hold the huge bottle in place against Star's anxious head butts.
Now the calf swished her tail ferociously. She polished off one bottle, and Romy reached down to pick up a second one while the calf danced and bucked. “Aren't we impatient?”
Yes, yes we are.
There was no way on God's green earth I was ever going to get that woman out of my system. That thought sobered me up. How stupid had I been? I'd only made her promise to leave if I hit her. I hadn't thought long enough about Curtis.
Send her back now. While you still can.
As if she'd listen to me! Now that she knew the truth, she'd never let up. I absently patted Beatrice on the rump while Star killed the second giant bottle.
“Hey, Julian, when are you going to let me ride?” Romy called.
“When do you want to go?” I asked, waggling my eyebrows.
“I'm not talking about
that
. I'm talking about saddling up poor Beatrice here. I bet she misses her Benedick.”
Considering Benedick had been a downright asshole the last time I'd left the two of them alone, I doubted it. But it was gratifying to see her mind was just as much in the gutter as mine.
“I've got the day off tomorrow. Maybe after I cut some more hay?”
She rolled her eyes. “I swear all you West Tennessee men ever talk about is cutting hay.”
I walked up to the gate she hung over. Star playfully butted my leg but then trotted off to run circles in the pen.
I had a flash of her with Richard, and I couldn't help but say, “Would you prefer I talk about golf or law or stock tips?”
She leaned in closer. “Absolutely not.”
“Then you have to learn to get turned on by my hay talk. And baling and hauling. Putting wormer on the cows and tilling the garden.”
“Mmm, talk dirty to me.”
She might have been kidding, but the purr to her voice made me forget all about hay, cows, or the garden. I leaned in to kiss her, and she met me halfway—but the gate still hung between us.
We stopped for oxygen, our foreheads still touching. “Does this mean it's going to turn
you
on when I talk about canning tomatoes and freezing peaches?” she asked.
At the word
peaches
, my hands traveled to her breasts. They couldn't help themselves.
She grinned. “What if I send you to the store for lids and mason jars?”
“Honey, if you use that tone of voice, you could get me excited about mucking stables. With a toothbrush.” I kissed her again, the gate rocking between us. The two slats she stood on made her just a little taller than me, and having her in control of the kiss was heady, better than two chugged beers on a hot day after skipping lunch then mowing the lawn.
We paused, our foreheads touching again. “I was thinking,” she said, “what if we did this right this time? You know, got married in the church and built us a little house over there on that flat piece of land.”
Anything you want. No! Not anything you want!
“Romy, I don't know about right now. Curtis—”
“Screw Curtis.” She jumped backward off the gate. “I'm talking about us. Or are you still too chickenshit for there to be an us?”
I had to open the gate to follow her and almost forgot to put the chain back in place I was in such a hurry. “I'm trying to tell you that he's up to something. If he'd shoot a dog on my front porch, what do you think he'd do to you?”
She whirled around and pounded at my chest. “I. Am. So. Sick. And. Tired. Of letting. That. Asshole. Rule. Our. Lives.”
I grabbed her wrists. “Name the date and the time. I will be at County Line church in a suit and with a smile.”
She crossed her arms and studied me. “What about The Fountain instead? I took the liberty of signing you up for the class reunion since you hadn't bothered to do it yourself.”
“You know I don't want to get into that mess. I didn't like most of those people the first time around.”
“But you owe me a dance,” she said softly.
“We danced in the rain the other day. I'll dance right now.”
“A
slow
dance.” She stared through me, and I knew I was about to lose the argument.
“Fine.”
“Really?” The smile on her face almost made it worth it.
“Yes.”
Against my better judgment.
She wrapped her arms around my neck, her body flat against mine. When she kissed me, one of her green work boots lifted just like in one of those old black-and-white movies.
“You'd better not stand me up this time,” she whispered. “Or break anything.”
Romy
I
'd convinced Julian to come with me to the reunion. Thank God!
The next day I floated through the rest of my chores. Who would've thought I'd owe my happiness to Daddy's broken leg?
At the thought of Richard, I felt that familiar twinge of guilt.
Rosemary, you can't make everyone happy.
He would find someone, someone better suited to his political aspirations than me.
Then I thought of Julian and how I wished there'd never been a Richard, but I couldn't beat myself up over it. It was done. Over. Finished. No more.
I needed to be thinking of my own career aspirations since school started in a few weeks. But for now? Checking on Beatrice and little Star. Beatrice knocked about restlessly in her stall. I tried to rub her nose but she shook me off with a guttural horse noise that seemed to say, “You're not Julian. I still don't know who the hell you are.”
“A fine birthday present you are! I finally get a horse and you won't have anything to do with me.” She shook her head then kicked backward. I closed my eyes in anticipation of the crash of hooves splintering wood, but it never came. I peered around the horse and saw daylight. Lots of daylight, because she'd taken a chunk of wood out of the back of her stall and an even larger chunk of the neighboring one.
I looked over into Star's stall, but she was nowhere to be found. I turned on the horse. “You didn't.”
She stamped about nervously, and now I understood. This wasn't about me; she'd lost her friend.
Don't panic. The last time she got out she went and joined Julian's cows. Maybe this time she went to visit ours. If not, she's gone back to Julian's side. Don't panic.
Hard not to panic when I already knew Curtis had no qualms about shooting a dog. The calf wouldn't mean anything more to him.
But by the time I walked around the little pen, I had panicked. Julian was off cutting hay only God knew where. Daddy was still wearing a cast. I could drive around our land, but if she'd gone back to the McElroy land, then I'd have to go past Mr. and Mrs. McElroy to search for her.
And I'd told Julian I wouldn't do that.
Squaring my shoulders, I walked back up to the house. I tromped across the back porch and into the kitchen only to be greeted by a rustle of newspaper and, “Hey! Take those nasty boots off before you walk in here.”
“Sorry, Daddy.” I kicked them back to the porch and raced upstairs for my cell.
“What's got your panties in a twist?”
I met Daddy's eyes and saw a concern that didn't match the irritation in his voice. “Star's got out again. I'm hoping she didn't go over the creek because I don't know where Julian is.”
I dialed his number and held the phone up to my ear.
“Calf's been nothing but trouble,” Daddy muttered as he picked up another section of paper. “Deserves to be eaten by the damned coyotes.”
Coyotes? “I was more worried about Curtis.”
He unfolded the paper and hid behind it, but he was worried, too. Mercutio wound his way around a table leg and sprang into Daddy's lap, causing a rustling ruckus just as I was forced to leave Julian a message.
“Why do you people never carry a phone!” I shouted to my father as I ended the call and slid mine back into my pocket. “You would think you'd want one while on a tractor back in the middle of God only knows where.”
“Ain't no reception. And you can't scare off a copperhead with a phone, so what's the point?”
“Whatever. If Julian calls here instead of my phone, tell him I'm going to drive over our land first and then go over to his side—”
“The hell you are! Don't go anywhere near that man.”
“Daddy.” My hands naturally gravitated to my hips. “He's not going to shoot me in broad daylight.”
“Ha! He's a bona fide McElroy idiot, isn't he?” my father said with the righteous prejudice of several decades. “If you're going in the truck, let me come with you.”
Tempting, but as I looked at the full leg cast, I knew I couldn't. “Daddy, if I pull the seat forward enough to reach the pedals, there's going to be no room for your cast. What are you going to do, ride in the back like an old hound dog?”
He made a face. “I've probably got the fleas. Possibly a tapeworm.”
I shook my head and went over to give him a kiss on the cheek. “You stay here. I'll go get Star.”
He slapped down the paper and rolled after me. “And just how are you going to get her in the truck?”
I hadn't thought about that. The last time Julian and I had put her in the cab, she'd been considerably lighter. The answer was to the side of the sink in the form of the huge bottles I'd cleaned earlier. “I'm mixing a bottle. If she went through their fence, she can just go back through it,” I said as I bustled around the sink with some formula.
“At least take a gun with you,” Daddy grunted.
“C'mon, you know I didn't finish the gun-safety class, so I'd probably shoot myself in the foot. I'll stay in the truck.”
He pointed at me. “I don't like it. You'd better answer your phone the first time I call, or I'm calling the police. Just so you know.”
“Fair enough. Julian will call.”
He muttered something under his breath about how I was grown up and he couldn't do anything about the stupid shit I did.
“Love you, too, Daddy,” I said as I yanked the door closed behind me.
From Rosemary Satterfield's
History of the Satterfield-McElroy Feud
For some reason that I can't quite figure out, Curtis McElroy was smitten with me. It was almost as though he knew Hank and I were destined to fall in love, and he was desperate to keep us apart.
I met Curtis at one of the high school football games. I was a senior, and he was there to see a cousin play ball. He looked younger than his age back then, and he was so charming I agreed to go to the fair with him.
That night he was the perfect gentleman, but there was still something about him that bothered me, even though I couldn't put my finger on it, so I declined his invitation for a second date. A couple of years later, I met your daddy at the diner. It was love at first sight. Two dates and we knew we wanted to get married.
Suddenly, Curtis McElroy popped out of the woodwork. When he asked me out again, I told him I was dating Hank now. I can still remember how red his face got at the mention of Hank's name. One night I'd worked late at the library. When I went to get into my car, Curtis was there. He'd been drinking. He shoved me against the brick wall of the library and demanded to know why I'd go out with Hank Satterfield but not him.
Thank the good Lord a police car cruised by about that time. The officer asked if I wanted to press charges, but what could I say? This man pinned me against the side of a building? I was still too stunned to know it would've been worth the hassle, and the policeman took Curtis to jail for public drunkenness, so I thought it was all over.
The next week I went home with Hank to meet his parents. Since my family was fairly new to Ellery, I hadn't realized one crucial fact: The McElroys lived next door.
Julian
A
bout the fourth time my ass vibrated I realized it was my phone instead of the movement of the tractor seat. I killed the engine and looked up at the gray clouds above me. It was a little field, so I still had time to get everything done before the rain moved in. Then I looked down at my missed calls.
Shit.
Why hadn't I considered the possibility that my phone might be ringing? Had I really been alone so long that I thought no one wanted to call me? Hell, Romy was lucky I had my phone at all because I often left it on the kitchen table, afraid it would fall out of my pocket and get lost in a field.
I listened to Romy's rambling message about the calf getting out again and how she was headed up to our place to go through our pasture if she didn't find Star in hers.
My blood ran cold. Had she not heard a word I'd said about never going out alone? She might be worried Curtis would do something to Star, but I was more worried about what he might do to her.
She'd only left one message, but it had been forty-five minutes ago. She'd had plenty of time to look around the Satterfield place then go up to the trailer. I started the tractor, gunning it as I traveled homeward as quickly as I could.
You just had to tick him off at the dealership yesterday, didn't you? You couldn't just swallow your pride one more time and at least tell him you'd give him some of the money. Again. Damn you, Julian, damn you.
I rolled into the barn, jumping off the tractor before the engine had completely cut off. I ran for the house, ignoring my stiff leg, the one that didn't run as well as it used to. By the time I reached the screen door, I was out of breath.
“Good Lord, Julian, where's the fire?” Mama asked.
“Romy. Did she come through here?”
“I don't know. Your daddy was at the door talking to someone. Then he left and took his gun with him.”
“Talking to
someone.
”
“Fine. He was talking to that Satterfield girl. Something about a lost calf.”
“And you let him take his gun and go after her?”
“I don't
let
him do anything,” she said, but her eyes wouldn't meet mine.
“How long?”
Mama shrugged her good shoulder. “'Bout ten minutes? Maybe?”
“If anything happens to her, I'm blaming you.”
“Nothing will—”
“You know damn well he aims to hurt her. Just like he hurts you.” I turned to go, but she grabbed my arm.
“He's just doing what he thinks he needs to do.”
She believed it, too.
“Well, he's wrong. She doesn't deserve it, and neither do you.”
“But you don't know what I did.”
“Mama, it doesn't matter what you did.” I shook free of her grasp and went after Romy.
When I glanced over my shoulder, she was wringing her hands.

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