Reclaimed (16 page)

Even in the fading firelight, Paul could see her eyes grow huge. “Don’t worry, sis. Suzanna has no such plans. There won’t be any hangings in Cottonwood County. Chuck’s just spreading lies to get people riled.”

She leaned forward and scowled. “Sounds like it’s working.”

“I told Jim she couldn’t do it, in any case.” Tom tried to soothe Dre’s fears. “It’d be illegal, and that would be that.”

“But people will hate her just for thinking of it.” Her voice cracked. “In fact, she pretty much got the cold shoulder in church today. Even Mrs. Blake failed to wish her a good morning.”

Paul dropped back into his chair. He’d noticed that too. He was also certain Suzanna felt the snubs. She’d stayed pretty close to either him or Dre for the duration.

Dre’s fine Sunday dinner soured in his stomach. Things had turned bad fast, but he had no choice but to leave town.

“I need you guys to check in on Suz while I’m gone.” He caught his sister’s eyes. “Okay?”

“I will.” Her head bobbed slowly. “Tom will be gone most of the week, but I’ll stop over for coffee.”

Paul turned to Tom. He’d forgotten about harvest. The timing couldn’t be worse. “When are you leaving?”

“I have a board meeting tomorrow, but I told Ben I’d be down by Tuesday night.”

That left Andrea and Suzanna alone. Two women by themselves in the far reaches of the country. Out far enough where no one could hear a cry for help.

It didn’t sit well at all.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Shattering glass ripped Suzanna from sleep. She bolted upright, gasping as though she’d been held under water. Her heart hammered in her chest as she searched for her cell phone in the darkness of her room.

She glanced at the doorway, listening for sounds of an intruder. Nothing stirred in the chilly night air. Gooseflesh rippled along her arms, and she lunged for her bedroom door in the eerie stillness. She shoved it closed, and set the lock with trembling fingers. Sliding to the floor with her back against the solid wood, she scanned through her contacts.

A quick check of her digital clock told her it was two. She couldn’t call Andrea. What could the other woman do? Tom had left the night before, and Andrea was home alone with three kids. Paul was gone. That left...

No one.

Her throat swelled, and her eyes burned.

Daddy had a gun of some kind—a rifle maybe? She’d seen it in the back of the closet behind his box of memories. Suzanna had no idea how to load the weapon, let alone fire it, but she searched for it anyway. Maybe it would scare a predator. She didn’t know what else to do.

Retrieving the long-barreled firearm and an oversized sweatshirt that had belonged to Jason, she slumped back down against the door. She slipped the sweatshirt on, hoping the warmth would calm her trembling body, and pressed her face into the extra length of sleeves. It didn’t smell like him anymore.

Because he was gone. And she was alone. In the darkest hours of her life, she was always alone.

Suzanna laid her weapon across her lap, the cold metal of the barrel seeping through the thin fabric of her leggings, and rested a hand on the wooden stock. She tipped her head back as sobs quivered through her body. Tears ran down her face, dripping into her ears.

God, why do you hate me?

Heavy darkness lurked in the silence. Bitterness set a little deeper.

A hollow pounding startled Suzanna. Weak sunlight peeked around the roman shade, and her clock read seven fifty. She must have dozed. She rubbed her gritty eyes, which stung, and waited, hoping whoever was at her side door would go away. The knock sounded again, louder, more insistent.

Gripping the gun, she pushed herself off the floor. Her tailbone ached, and pins and needles ran down her legs. She shook both limbs, hoping the sensation would cease as she moved to her bedroom window. Pressed against the wall, she peeked through the crack of light. Andrea’s truck sat empty in her driveway.

Suzanna moved to her bedroom door and unlocked it. A chilly breeze hit her face as she moved into the hall. The house was dim in the filtered morning light, and her curtains moved in an autumn breeze. Stepping with caution, she continued to the front room and halted. Shards of glass had scattered across the floor, and a rock the size of one of her shoes lay on the freshly scratched wood planks.

Who had done this?

She knew who. Why was he such a bully? And to her? He didn’t know her, didn’t have anything to hold against her, except this piece of land. It had meant nothing to him until she took up the rural-route address. Was Chuck really that stone-cold set against a city woman in his neighborhood?

Did Paul know why? He seemed pretty protective of her, seemed to know how much Chuck intimidated her. It was time to start asking some probing questions. If Paul knew more than he was letting on, she wanted in on it.

With her spine set straight, Suzanna tiptoed around the mess. She passed through the kitchen, and answered the door.

Andrea stood with her hand poised to pound again. Her eyes flared wildly, and she stepped back when she caught sight of Suzanna’s gun.

“Suz, what’s goin’ on?”

Suzanna dropped her attention to the gun. Clamping her jaw, she set it in the corner nearest the door.

Andrea reached for her shoulder and gave Suzanna a small shake. “Suz, what happened? Why is your front window broken?”

“Don’t know.” The trembling returned. The sound of breaking glass echoed in her ears as she replayed the horrible moments over again. “Someone threw a rock at my house.”

“Threw a rock?” Andrea stepped through the door, pulling Suzanna into the kitchen with her. “Like maybe a pickup kicked up a stone, and it broke your window?”

Suzanna shook her head and landed her attention on the rock visible from the kitchen table. “Don’t think so.”

Andrea released her hold and moved to the front room. “Good heavens, Suz.” She turned back, pale and wide eyed. “That’s no accident.”

Suzanna held back the moisture in her eyes long enough for anger to smother the hurt. “No.” She bit coolly. “No, it wasn’t any kind of accident.”

Andrea’s gaze softened, and she stepped back toward the table. Suzanna stiffened when Andrea slid an arm around her shoulders, but Andrea hugged her anyway.

“Poor girl,” Andrea whispered. “Must have scared you to death.”

Silence, thick and heavy, hung in the kitchen. Suzanna swallowed back the urge to cry. She’d taken her mother’s criticism, her parents’ divorce, and had buried her husband without showing her tears to anyone. She could handle a rock in her house without crying in front of Andrea.

Strange. She’d cried in front of Paul. For something far less traumatic, she’d let the tears flow. Would she now—if he were here, would she let the pain spill over instead of capping it off with a seal of anger?

Possibilities not worth pondering.

“Listen, Suz.” Andrea turned Suzanna’s stiff frame to face her. “I want you to come home with me. Let’s just throw some stuff in a bag, and you can stay with me and the kids. Heaven knows, I hate it when Tom is gone. I would so love for you to come—it’ll be like a girls’ getaway. I’ll grab some chick flicks at the redbox when I go get the kids, and we’ll eat junk and just hang out. Okay?”

Suzanna shook her head, her cold stare focused on the stone in her front room. “I’m not letting them push me out.”

Andrea’s shoulders dropped. “No, hon, you’re not. We won’t let them, either.” She took her hand and squeezed until Suzanna turned her focus back. “I’m not talking about surrender. But I don’t think you should be here alone this week.”

“Why?”

Andrea’s brows rose incredulously.

“Why this week?” Suzanna persisted.

“Paul’s gone until Friday.”

Suzanna scowled. “You don’t think this would have happened if he were home?”

“I don’t know.” Andrea shrugged. “Timing’s pretty suspicious, and Paul was concerned.”

Suzanna jolted straight. There
was
more than Paul had told her. “Why?”

Andrea looked at the floor.

“Why does Chuck want my land?” Suzanna crossed her arms.

Andrea’s eyes shot back up. “That I really couldn’t tell you.” She leaned against the table, honesty shrouding her face. “Look, I don’t know what he’s got in his back pocket, and neither does Paul, but Chuck’s stirring up trouble in town, and it’s not getting better. Paul’s working on it, but he’s worried that it’s only going to get worse. For now, I really think it’d be best for you to come with me.”

Suzanna turned her gaze back to the front room and scowled. Why hadn’t Paul talked to her about any of this? If he were worried, why didn’t he give her a heads-up?

“I need to clean this up.” Suzanna gestured to the broken glass. “And I still have to work today. I’m already a few hours late, and I didn’t even call.”

Andrea’s mouth pulled down. She studied Suzanna with eyes of compassion. Suzanna’s stoic resolve almost melted. She swallowed, locking away the frailty of tears.

“I’ll help you, then.” Andrea conceded. “We’ll need to board up that window until it can be repaired. Do you know if you have anything to cover it?”

Suzanna mentally searched the garage and the barn. Daddy had a canvas tarp and some cedar shakes stashed in the back corner of the barn. Maybe they’d make do. She told Andrea where they were, and the other woman turned on her booted heel to go after the supplies.

“Suz...” She stopped at the doorway off the kitchen. “Please come tonight.”

Suzanna leaned on the broom she’d nabbed from behind her fridge. She held Andrea’s eyes only long enough to feel the warmth of her friend’s concern against the cold anger she maintained.

She dropped her stare to the floor. “I don’t think so.”

Andrea crossed the room and gripped her hand. “I won’t sleep tonight knowing you’re here all alone. Please?”

Suzanna was alone all the time. And she hated it. But hoping for something different. . .

Disappointment had proven far more agonizing.

“He did what?”

Sitting astride Bronco, Paul clutched his cell phone and nearly shouted into the speaker. Gone fewer than forty-eight hours, and the situation had already heated. Chuck didn’t waste an opportunity.

Andrea sighed, her voice wavering over the digital air. “I don’t know for sure it was Chuck, Paul. Suzanna didn’t see anything. She was crazy-scared though. Answered the door with her daddy’s .243 tucked under her arm.”

His veins throbbed, and Paul struggled to see straight. Rumors were one thing—unpleasant, but bearable. Vandalism, bordering on threats of harm, was a new story altogether.

Paul tugged at his hat as though doing so would clear his thoughts. “Did you call Jude?”

Certainly the Cottonwood County sheriff should be notified. Even if he were a good buddy of Stanton’s. Man, history got in the way.

“I called him before I called you.” Andrea cleared her throat. “Said he had a little bit of paperwork to finish up from yesterday, and that he’d be out in the afternoon.”

Figured.

How Jude Gilroy worked himself into the hearts of the Rock Creek citizens was a matter of pure amazement. He’d been the rollin’ devil in charge of all of their idiotic pranks, the ones that had landed Paul in jail all those years ago.

Paul was hardly a man who could withhold grace, given his turn-around past, but Gilroy still wore a glint of mischief right alongside his government-issued badge. He’d taken an oath, though, to serve and protect. Paul had to hope he took that seriously, even if it did set him perpendicular to Chuck.

Paul pulled Bronco to a standstill and scanned the cows he’d been pushing. He was still nearly a mile from the working yard, and they had at least another day’s worth of roundup before he could start sorting. It would take another day beyond that to finish and then load.