Ransom Canyon (12 page)

“Did you buy any?” she asked as she pulled the needle out of his arm and told him to hold a ball of cotton over the site.

“No. Quinn O’Grady wasn’t home.”

The bloodsucker giggled as her wiggly shoe flew off her big toe. “I could have told you that. She was in here bright and early. The nurse saw her and sent her straight to Lubbock for testing.”

Staten forced calm into his words. “For what?” He kept his tone even by staring at the girl’s multicolored toenails.

The nurse’s aide slapped a strip of tape over the cotton. “I don’t know, and even if I did, it would be confidential. All I did was call the ob-gyn and tell him she was on her way.”

Staten walked back to his truck and just sat staring at the dust whirling down the middle of Main Street.

Something was wrong with Quinn. She might be dying. He knew the drill. He’d gone through it with Amalah. First in for a checkup. A simple Pap smear. Then another test. Then another. One day you’re fine, just a little tired, and the next day you’re fighting for your life.

If he thought he could find her, he’d drive down every street in Lubbock. He couldn’t call her. She hadn’t taken her phone. All he could do was wait.

Staten turned his truck toward her farm. If he was going to wait, it would be in her house. He wanted to at least be there when she got home, whether the news was good or bad.

On the way back to her place, he swore he almost felt the cold paddles over his chest as the electricity shocked his heart back alive.

The first beats hurt so much he didn’t think he would survive. Like it or not. Healthy or dying. Quinn mattered to him.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Staten

S
TATEN
K
IRKLAND
SAT
in Quinn O’Grady’s kitchen for an hour, making several calls to his men. Just because he wasn’t there didn’t mean that work would stop on the ranch, but his mind didn’t seem to be fully in the game.

All he could think about was Quinn. Maybe while he waited at her place, she was getting the news she had cancer. She might be dying, and she’d find out all alone. He knew she’d take the news hard, but in her shy, quiet way she wouldn’t let anyone know. They’d think she was handling it well. They wouldn’t see that she was falling apart.

Finally, when he could think of no one else to pester, he walked to the barn and collected enough tools to put Quinn’s door back on. Now that he had other things to worry about, he realized what a fool he’d been to storm her house. She’d lived out here for years by herself and never had an accident that he knew about. Plus, everyone in town knew Sheriff Brigman was still in love with his invisible wife. People would say things about how the sheriff was trapped. He loved his job, and he still loved a woman who didn’t love him.

If Sheriff Brigman had looked out from the barn when Staten had kicked the door in, no telling what he would have thought. Yet, when they’d walked back together to their vehicles, he either hadn’t noticed, or simply hadn’t commented on the back door sitting beside its frame.

While Staten was worrying about the sheriff’s eyesight, he might as well take some time and worry about why the sheriff thought he owed Quinn a favor.

Just as he finished repairing the door, Staten heard Quinn’s pickup. If the thing rattled any louder, parts were bound to start falling off.

Sliding the tools behind one of the porch rockers, he waited as she pulled next to his truck.

“Well, hello, stranger,” she said as she climbed out. “I wasn’t expecting you this morning.”

“I gave up waiting for you to call,” he admitted.

“I’m sorry. I’ve had a lot on my mind these past few weeks, and I haven’t been feeling very well.” She reached the porch but stopped a few feet away as if unsure what to do. “Are you angry with me about not calling, Staten?”

He realized he was frowning, and his fists were knotted at his side. “No.” He forced himself to breathe. “I was worried, though. Are you all right?”

She touched his shoulder. “I’m fine, Staten. Don’t worry about me. After you left last month, I had some thinking to do. If Lloyd deBellome comes to Crossroads, I’ll simply leave town for the night, or maybe I’ll go to the fund-raiser and act like I don’t remember him. That would crush his ego, and, with you as my date, he’s not likely to say anything.”

“You’d go with me?”

“I would.” She laughed as if she thought he was kidding. “There is no one on this planet who worries about me as much as you do, but we’ve got to consider that maybe Lloyd stopping by here is for the best. It’s time I stopped hiding from a memory. I’m turning over a new leaf. Might even give up some of the farm work and take up a new calling. Maybe remodel this old house. Once I enlarge the living room, I could probably teach piano lessons. I’ve always thought that would be fun, and Dan said his daughter would want to take lessons if I was interested.”

He started frowning again. Something was definitely wrong. Quinn was rattling, and she’d never said so many words all at one time. Plus, she’d tossed the sheriff into the conversation as if they were friends.

It wasn’t like her to stay inside, and she’d never once mentioned teaching anything before. Something was wrong, maybe not with Lloyd deBellome coming to town, but with Quinn. She was getting Staten off track talking about piano lessons and not farming. The real problem was obviously whatever had her going to the doctor. Maybe she’d learned she only had a few years to live. That might explain all these changes.

Staten had never run from a fight in his life, and he wouldn’t run now. If she had cancer or some other disease, he’d help her through it. “Quinn, tell me what’s wrong with you. How ill are you?”

To his surprise she laughed. “I’m not ill, I promise. In fact I’m very healthy. I just had a checkup this morning. I had all kinds of tests run, and there is not a thing wrong.”

Her hand spread over his chest. “Can we talk later? I’m starving for food and for you. For the past few nights I’ve been having these dreams of you making love to me, and I wake up desperately wanting you. I’ve even thought of driving over to your place and pounding on the door. I’d politely ask if I could borrow your body for a while.”

He covered her hand as it rested over his heart. “The door’s not locked. Just come on in. You are always welcome.”

“I might just do that one night.”

He finally relaxed. This was a different Quinn than he had ever seen, but maybe that wasn’t all bad. Staten had no idea when that happened to women. Maybe her hormones were out of whack. But he didn’t really care. She was happy and saying she was healthy. He could stop worrying.

Leaning over, he kissed her cheek and whispered, “Let’s eat in bed.”

She tugged him inside and went straight to the refrigerator. While she made sandwiches, she munched on everything she pulled out of the crisper. He watched her, feeling a peace wash over him. Quinn wasn’t ill, she wasn’t dying. Their life would go on just as before. They were simply getting to know one another better. Feeling more comfortable around each other.

“We’ve never made love before dark, Quinn,” he said as he played with her braid. “Are you sure about this?”

“I know we never have, but for some reason you look irresistible, and I don’t want to wait until dark. Would you mind wasting a bit of daylight?”

“Not at all.” He undid the first few buttons of her blouse while she took a bite of one of the sandwiches. In the daylight, he swore her breasts looked bigger.

She handed him two glasses of tea and picked up their plate. “Come on, you can undress me while I eat, and when you’re finished I’ll watch you strip.”

“I’m not really very hungry for food.”

“Neither am I,” she said around a bite. “I want you, Staten.”

She carried his sandwich and the few remaining crumbs of hers toward the bedroom. He’d expected her to move under the covers, his shy Quinn, but she didn’t.

They made love with a wildness he’d never felt with her. This was a side of Quinn that he had never seen, but he’d gladly get used to. He loved watching her body as his hand moved over her. He’d never seen her in sunlight. Now, when he woke late at night and thought of her, his memories would no longer be in shadows. He took his time memorizing the look of her in daylight as he had learned the feel of her body in moonlight.

When the afternoon sun sparkled across them, she laughed, saying that they’d both be suntanned all over if they did this often.

“I wouldn’t mind,” he whispered as he kissed his way down her body.

When they both lay sweaty and nude atop her bed, she whispered, “Are you going to eat that other sandwich?”

He studied her, thinking she looked so beautiful with her hair all around her shoulders and her face flushed from passion. “I figured out why you went to the doctor. You’ve got a tapeworm.”

“No, but close. I was planning to call you tonight after I saw the doctor. I’ve suspected for most of the month, but I found out for sure today. Staten, I’m pregnant. Almost three months.”

He took her words like a blow. All the air left his lungs, and he fought to keep from passing out. “What did you say?”

“I’m pregnant.” She sat up and reached for his sandwich.

“How is that possible?” It wasn’t registering. “Didn’t you use protection?”

“Didn’t you?” she answered.

He sat up, put his feet on the floor and tried reason. “I thought you couldn’t have children. That first night I came over, I asked. You said not to worry.”

“Apparently I was wrong. It took five years, but you proved me wrong. I am going to have a baby.”

Change
, he almost screamed.
I hate change
. “But I don’t want...” He couldn’t say the words. He didn’t want complication in his life. He didn’t want to start a family, not now, not at forty-three. He’d sworn he’d never marry again. He’d sworn he’d never love anyone again. She was messing it all up. From this moment on, everything would change. Her two words would finally be the blow that split his mind in half.

But he wouldn’t say he didn’t want a baby. He couldn’t tell that big a lie.

A baby. Quinn’s baby. His baby.

She stood and pulled on her jeans and top, watching him as if she’d found a stranger in her bed.

He just stared at her, feeling betrayed. She’d never had a child. She couldn’t know how much it would hurt to lose one.

“Look, Staten, this is my baby. You don’t have to deal with it if you don’t want to. I understand. You didn’t ask for this. I can handle it alone. No one has to know it’s yours.”

Her words sounded rehearsed, as if she’d expected him to react this way when she told him.

“Are you sure it’s mine?” he asked, remembering the sheriff who’d been on her property this morning.

Quinn slapped him so hard, his eyes watered, but he didn’t move. He took the blow fully, barely feeling the pain.

“I think you’d better leave.” Tears ran down her face, but she didn’t cry out. “I’m going to the barn. When I get back, you’d better not be in my house, or I swear I’ll shoot you in that hole you have for a heart.”

Then, before he could take back what he’d said, she was gone.

Staten dressed and tried to piece things together in his mind. Quinn was pregnant, and, of course, it was his. If he’d had any doubt, the slap had knocked it out of him. Also, she obviously didn’t want to talk to him anymore. Maybe he’d be wise to follow her orders and leave.

After all, she’d answered another question he’d worried about.

She was armed, and right now her primary target was him.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Yancy

A
ROUND
FOUR
IN
the afternoon Yancy found Cap sunning in the office lobby like an old gray cat. Yancy touched the old guy’s shoulder and asked if Cap would drive him the four blocks to the hardware store.

Several of the aging dwarves had cars, most of them rarely used, but Cap liked to drive, so his car looked as if it would start. Yancy had asked him to go with him a few times to pick up supplies and thought, for his age, Cap was a great driver.

“You can just borrow my car, Yancy,” Cap said as he tried to snuggle back into his dreams. “With the promise of rain, I wasn’t planning on going anywhere.”

Yancy tried to think of an answer. He wasn’t about to tell Cap that he didn’t have a license, and if he didn’t go today, Miss Bees and Mrs. Ollie would just be in again tomorrow with their list of repairs in hand. “Cap, I think I can get everything I need, but I might want a little help picking out a new smoke detector for Miss Bees. You know how particular she is.”

Cap sat up, mumbling something while he scratched his goatee. “There ain’t nothing wrong with the one she has. I put it in three years ago. A couple of young guys from the fire department came around to check all the batteries before Christmas.”

He got up out of his favorite chair in the sunny room and shuffled to the door. He put on his jacket without stopping talking. “You ask me, she hides in her little hallway, where there’s no windows, just in case someone’s spying on her. Then, she holes up like a criminal and smokes half a pack at a time.” He grabbed his blue hat that had
Cap
stitched across the top. “I’ll go with you, son. She shouldn’t have any complaints when the retired captain of the volunteer fire department picks it out.” He always straightened a bit when he reminded anyone of his title.

Yancy grinned. Cap liked nothing more than being on a mission. A few minutes later they backed his boat of a car out of the line of carports built beyond the north fence of the property. It was little more than a lean-to, offering no protection from the wind or cold, but it kept snow off the vehicles in winter.

Cap shook his head. “Miss Abernathy is gone for her weekly trip to the cemetery. She’ll get my spot when she comes back, and I’ll be on the end again. Last time that happened tumbleweeds about scratched the paint off my whole left side.”

Yancy leaned back in the plush seat of what had once been a fine car. As far as he could tell the thirty-year-old Chevy looked pretty much the same all over, so he changed the subject. “Who does Miss Abernathy visit at the cemetery?”

“I have no idea. Near as I know, she came here alone in the early ’60s. I asked her once why she never married. She was a fine-looking woman in her day. Always wore four-inch heels and her hair on top of her head, real proper. When she played concerts at PTA, she’d push out that ample chest and keep her nose in the air like she was playing for the gods and not just us mortals.” He snorted. “Always reminded me of a turkey.”

Yancy knew if he didn’t remind Cap of the question, the old man would go on down first one path, then another. “What’d she say about never getting married?”

“She said she was wed to her music. She was a good teacher, but so was I, and I never thought for a minute that I was married to math.” Cap smiled as if seeing something that wasn’t there. “I was married to my wife for thirty-two years. When she passed, I filled my time volunteering and teaching. Since the day of her funeral I’ve never gone back to the cemetery.” He looked up with tears in his eyes. “She ain’t there. She’s gone on to wait for me. I’ve enjoyed my life, but it’ll be a grand day when I walk up to her.”

He laughed. “I’m betting she’ll act all mad at first ’cause I kept her waiting, then she’ll say ‘Where have you been, darlin’?’”

Yancy didn’t say anything, but he felt it again. The strange sensation that all the people of the Evening Shadows Retirement Community had lived rich, full lives, while Yancy had simply been existing. They had their stories, their children, their secrets. The only stories he had weren’t worth the breath it would take to tell them. He couldn’t think of a relative he’d claim, and his secrets would stay buried as long as he kept practicing being normal just like everyone else. It was getting easier every day.

A few minutes later they picked out the smoke alarm from the two choices at the hardware store.

Cap stopped to visit with someone he knew on aisle three, and Yancy went in search of nails. He was always running out of screws, nails and duct tape, maybe because he figured that half the things needing fixing around the place only really needed one of the three.

At aisle seven, he began searching for just the right size of nails. Since he planned to put everything on the account, he thought he’d pick up hooks also. With his head down, he heard two men talking as they neared. A drifting conversation not meant for him. At first, he didn’t listen. The voices were no more than background noise. But, as they grew closer, he stilled, and that constant tension he had lived with for five years in prison moved over him.

Fear, alarm, a longing to vanish. He recognized the voices, and panic warmed his blood.

“Look, Cowboy, I see your point, but this isn’t the place to set up camp. One, it’s too small a town. Someone’s bound to notice us, and two, I’m not sure I can get all we need.”

The second voice was hoarse, as if from a man who’d spent years yelling or smoking. “It’s perfect. Less people around, less chance of anyone knowing us. Arlo’s got a job at the Collins ranch, and we’ve got a great spot to stash our load. A month, maybe two, and we’ll have taken enough for a real start.”

Two men walked past Yancy. He never looked up. Chances were good they wouldn’t recognize him, but if they did, he’d be the one in trouble.

He grabbed a few packages of nails and followed, watching them from a distance. The one called Cowboy had been the leader of a gang in prison when Yancy had first arrived. His name was Zane, but no one but a fool with a death wish would call him that. Cons had called him Insane Zane behind his back. He’d taken care of the stock for the prison’s annual rodeo. Twice, before Cowboy got transferred, cons had been involved in accidents in the barn. One man had died, supposedly trampled, and another had been paralyzed after falling from his horse. Both had been listed as accidents, but word got around that they weren’t.

The other man, shorter and bald, had tried to take Cowboy’s place after Cowboy was released, but he hadn’t been strong enough to manage the rough cowhands who worked with the prison stock. Yancy couldn’t remember the details, but he heard something about Freddie, the bald guy, being in a fight and spending time in solitary. Freddie had the nervous habit of hitting people who got close.

Yancy had hated and feared them both. He didn’t want to be in the same state with either, and now they were both in Crossroads.

“You find the nails?”

Yancy staggered, preparing to run, before he recognized Cap’s dry tone. When he turned, the old guy was concentrating on a display, giving Yancy a second to force calm into a body intent on flight.

“Yeah, I found what I needed.” Yancy rattled the box of nails. “Thanks for picking out the fire alarm. Now Miss Bees can yell at you when it goes off.”

Cap shrugged. “That don’t bother me. I’m hard of hearing.”

They moved toward the checkout as the two men Yancy had been watching headed through the main door. Cowboy hadn’t aged well in the past five years, but he was still good-looking in a rough kind of way, but Freddie was more like the perfect poster child for the death penalty. He had scars across his nose, a permanent sneer on fat lips and one eye that never cooperated with the other.

“You know those two, Cap?” Yancy still hadn’t seen their faces close up, but the build and the walk were the same. He had heard both their voices in his nightmares that first year in jail. He wasn’t likely to forget what they sounded like.

Cap shook his head. “Nope. The tall one, with the worn Stetson, looks like he works on one of the ranches. I heard somewhere that a couple of the outfits are already hiring for spring. Are they friends of yours?”

Yancy shook his head, almost saying that he had no friends. No one from prison. No one from back home. If he died today, Miss Bees, who didn’t even like him, would probably be the only one visiting his grave.

As Cap always did, he wanted to stop at the café on the way home as if their journey had been a long one and not simply four blocks.

Even though Dorothy’s place was just across the street from where he lived, Cap turned into the café lot and parked out front. The old sign had once said Dorothy’s Fine Dining, then it had been painted over to read Dorothy’s Café. Only as the second paint job faded, the old sign came back like a shadow that didn’t match.

Yancy waved at Sissy as they stepped inside the warm café. She smiled at him while Cap slid into one side of the nearest booth and he took the other.

The place always smelled of cinnamon, and Yancy loved taking the time to breathe in the aroma. Though the drizzle had mostly stopped, the day was spotty with fog, and the sweet-smelling air was heaven.

“Afternoon.” Sissy waddled over. “You guys looking for breakfast, lunch or dinner?”

Yancy calculated the cost of each in his head. By getting Sunday lunches free, he had extra money for a few meals on weekdays, so lunch sounded good, but the breakfasts were a few dollars cheaper.

“I’ll have pancakes,” he said.

Sissy didn’t ask more. She knew he always wanted buttermilk pancakes with raisins and pecans on top, and he knew if there was any bacon left, she’d toss it on the plate at no extra charge.

Cap ordered coffee and soup. “Whatever kind you got warming on the back burner.” He winked.

“We got potato soup today.” She turned her head and grinned as a woman in a blue cape blew in. “Come to see me, Ellie?”

The almost-nurse shook her head. “I’ve come to see Cap. I was passing and I saw his car.” She leaned over the table and kissed the old man’s cheek. “How’s my favorite uncle today?”

Cap shooed her hug away. “Yancy, this is my pesky niece. I’m sure you’ve seen her across the street. Comes by to poke on us all every other week. She makes the wellness rounds for the clinic.”

Ellie didn’t look at Yancy. Which was good because he had nothing to say to her. He thought of asking if he could have the hug she’d tried to give her uncle. Something told him she’d probably karate chop his windpipe closed or give him brain damage from that bag she carried slamming against his head. Ellie was no small girl; a blow from her would probably hurt.

“Sit down and have a visit.” Cap pointed to the side of the booth where Yancy sat.

She hesitated, then perched on the edge of his booth. “Uncle, did you drive that car of yours? You know you’re not supposed to drive until you’ve had your eyes checked.”

“My eyes are fine,” Cap said. “Stop worrying. Yancy drove us around today.”

Finally, the young woman turned and stared at Yancy with her cold green eyes. She had to be younger than him and she was definitely several inches shorter, but he swore the woman looked down at him. “Is my uncle telling the truth?”

Yancy was trapped. No matter what he said, someone at the table would be mad at him.

“No,” he finally answered.

She bounced up. “I knew it.” One finger pointed at her uncle. “I’m going to go wash my hands, and, when I get back, we’ll have a serious talk about you taking care of yourself, Uncle Cap.”

She was gone in a whirl of blue wool. The swinging door that led to the restrooms flapped so hard it hit both walls.

“Why didn’t you lie for me, son?” Cap sounded more curious than angry.

Yancy grinned. “I’m more afraid of her than you.”

Cap laughed. “Me, too. I’ll go tell Sissy to turn in Ellie’s lunch order. She’ll know what week it is.”

“What week?”

Cap slowly pushed himself out of the booth. “One week she’s on a diet, and the next week she’s recovering from it. She’s a sweet girl, my Ellie, but she’s bossy like her mother. Wants everyone to follow the rules.” Cap’s head kept shaking as he shuffled off toward the counter.

Yancy looked out the window wondering if he should “follow the rules” and tell the sheriff about the two ex-cons he’d seen, but if he did, he’d have to admit to how he knew them. Yancy had seen the sheriff’s car drive by but hadn’t spoken to the lawman. He’d like to keep it that way for as long as possible. Something told him that once it got out that his last address was prison, not many people would want him around.

“Scoot over,” a voice said from beside Yancy as Ellie slid into his side of the booth.

“I was here first.” He meant to say it with conviction, but her leg was pushing against his from hip to knee, and his tongue lost traction.

“Do you mind if I join you and my uncle?” she asked as if she couldn’t care less whether he did or not.

“No, Ellie, I don’t mind. I’m glad you’re watching over your uncle. He’s a good old guy.”

She seemed to relax a little, but the booth was small and her leg remained next to his. “Thanks for not lying for him. You’re right, Uncle Cap is a great man, but he doesn’t take care of himself. The whole family worries about him.”

Yancy felt light-headed. He hadn’t been next to any female near his age in years, and here she was touching him. Even if it was through layers of clothing, he swore she felt soft. “I’ll watch out for him,” he managed to say.

“Thanks.” She didn’t look his way.

He wanted to keep the conversation going. “You smell good.”

Now she looked at him and frowned. Obviously he’d stepped over some invisible line. Then she held up her hands. “It’s that soap in the bathroom. Lemon coconut, I think.”

He blushed and was glad to see she did, too.

He wanted to say that she smelled good all over and then ask, would she mind much if he lowered his hand to her leg and felt the length of just the one resting against his. After all, they were already touching. What did it matter if it was his leg touching or his hand? But he doubted he’d get a sentence out before she drop-kicked him through the open pass-through between the café and the kitchen.