Return to Homecoming Ranch (Pine River) (6 page)

BOOK: Return to Homecoming Ranch (Pine River)
3.3Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

She snorted. “What I’m thinking is that we need money
now
.”

“So are you borrowing against the ranch? Or do you have a way to pay it back?”

“The only way we can pay it back is with some business. But I have some ideas. I’m going to do some advertising around town and online with ads on wedding sites.”

“Do you think you’ll get a lot of events from people in Pine River?” He tried to imagine how many rustic weddings were going to happen in a town of roughly twenty thousand.

“That’s the plan, so I hope so!” Libby said laughingly.

“And if you can’t book more events? Then what?”

Libby shook her head. “I haven’t gotten that far. But I am going to make it work. I’m determined.”

Sam hoped for her sake that she could make it work. He thought about saying more, but it wasn’t his place to guide her. He was a deputy sheriff, for God’s sake, not a career counselor. Still, it seemed to him that Homecoming Ranch was too far out, too remote to ever become a profitable wedding venue. Who would go all the way out there?

His silence apparently made Libby anxious. “What?” she asked him.

Sam drummed his fingers against the steering wheel.


What
?
” she said again.

He glanced at her, sizing her up. “You want the truth?”

“Like you’d tell me anything less?” She laughed. “Go ahead, I can take it.” His hesitation made her brows sink into a frown. “Don’t tell me you are worried I
can’t
take it. Let me put your mind at ease—this is very different from finding out how your perfect little world came tumbling down. Trust me, I am not going to overreact.”

“I didn’t say anything,” he protested.

Libby rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to say anything. No one in this town has to say anything, because everyone looks at me the same way since my meltdown. Come on, tell me what your problem is,” she prodded him.

She was right, he was making assumptions. He said, “I think the event destination thing is going to be a hard sale.”

“I know. You’re not telling me anything I haven’t thought to death already. But it’s all I have, Sam. And honestly? I’m a little desperate these days. I’ve got a car that’s about to tank and no money for another one. The ranch is pretty self-sufficient but there are bills. Do you have any idea how much it costs to fill a propane tank?”

“Yes, I do. Have you thought about getting a job?”

She laughed. “Of
course
I have. But I want to make Homecoming Ranch work. It was handed to me on a silver platter. I
need
it to work.”

Sam thought he understood her. He certainly understood how sometimes, the only thing a person needed was for something just to
work.
“All I’m suggesting is to keep gainful employment in mind,” he said.

“Duly noted. And by the way, you suggest a
lot
,” she said, and closed up her pint of ice cream and returned it to the sack. “I’m curious, are you like this with your girlfriend? Or do you reserve all your suggestions for scofflaws?”

“Exclusively for the scofflaws.”

Her brows rose and she laughed with surprise. “How do you have so much time to drive around and poke your nose in other people’s business anyway?”

“That’s my job, remember?” he responded congenially as he pulled off the main road onto a bumpy dirt road.

“That’s debatable, and you’re avoiding the issue. How old are you, like forty?”

“Hey!” he said with a startled laugh. “I’m thirty-four.”

“Okay, thirty-four. Most men your age are looking for someone to do their laundry.”

“Wow,” he said, smiling curiously at her. “That’s an
awfully
jaded viewpoint.”

“Do you blame me?” she asked with a slight shrug.

“You’re not going to use the I-was-hurt-and-therefore-I-am-down-on-guys excuse, are you?”

“No. But that’s a good one,” she said, nodding thoughtfully. “Maybe I’ll use it from now on. So?” she asked, settling back into her seat. “Girlfriend?”

“And you’re nosy, to boot,” he said. “I’m not exactly living in a hotbed of dating activity up here, you know.”

“The lack of a good dating scene didn’t stop Arnie Schmidt. He just ordered a bride right out of Russia. You should ask for the catalogue. If you want, I’ll help you pick.”

Sam laughed roundly at that. “Thanks . . . but you’d be the last person I would ask for an assist.”

“I am an excellent judge of potential wives!” she protested. “Ask Luke Kendrick!” She was now filled with the sort of enthusiasm he used to see in her, all shiny and bright-eyed with a man-appealing twinkle.

“You didn’t put Luke and Madeline together,” he said, calling her on that. From what he knew, they’d been adversaries—Luke wanting the time to buy back his family’s ranch, which his father had sold, and Madeline eager to sell it as quickly as possible.

“That is a matter of interpretation,” Libby said smartly. “If I hadn’t been so focused on the ranch and putting my fist through Ryan’s face, they wouldn’t have had so much time together.”

That wasn’t entirely true, but it was true that Libby had put all her energy into the ranch. Sam knew what it was like to be in Libby’s shoes. He knew what it was to seek that thing that would keep you from corroding from the inside out. He also understood how hard it was to look in the faces of people he’d known for many years, knowing that they understood how far he’d fallen.

They crossed a cattle guard, and the truck bounced up the pitted road until they reached Millie Bagley’s run-down bit of metal and stone house. The roof had been repaired so many times it looked like a patchwork quilt. The house sat unevenly, too, and looked as if it was sinking on the right. As they drove up, a dozen or more rail-thin cats, lounging on the porch and under the porch steps, scattered.

“Ohmigod!” Libby said, sitting up to peer out as a number of cats scurried away. “What is this, a meth lab?”

“Do you really think I’d take you out for a leisurely drive to a meth lab? This is Millie Bagley’s place. You remember her.”

“Millie Bagley!” Libby squinted out the front window. “Boy, do I ever remember her. She was on my route when I did Meals On Wheels. I didn’t know she’d moved out here. Probably better for all involved, because that woman is as mean as a snake.”

Sam couldn’t help but laugh, because that was absolutely right. “I figured you hadn’t forgotten her. And believe me, time has not mellowed her, so don’t take anything personally,” he advised, and opened the door.

“Wait!” Libby said, but Sam had already exited the truck.

Millie Bagley had lived in and around Pine River all of her life. She’d buried her parents, her brother, and, a couple of years ago, her husband. She had a daughter, too, somewhere—Sam thought Salt Lake City, but he wasn’t certain. She’d moved out here a few months ago to her family’s old homestead. It had probably been a fairly decent ranch at one point, but now it was nothing more than the old house on rocky ground, a shotgun, and an army of cats that looked to have grown by a dozen more every time he came around.

Millie viewed everyone as suspect. When a census taker had appeared last spring, she’d fired a warning shot in the air through her window, convinced the poor man was a government agent come to take her house away from her.

Sam noticed the shotgun propped up against a sagging porch railing and stopped short of the steps.
Sam didn’t much like checking on her, but he had a conscience, and he was painfully aware that Millie Bagley didn’t have anyone to look after her. Neither did Tony D’Angelo, the Afghanistan-war veteran who lived in the old Baker house down in Elk Valley.

“Ms. Bagley, are you in there? It’s Deputy Winters.”

He heard some banging around inside the small house, and a moment later, Millie emerged in a filthy housecoat and tennis shoes. Her gray hair was clipped up behind her head in one of those plastic claws Sam saw on young women, and her skin had a greenish cast to it. A few of the cats hopped up on the porch and began to wind around her legs, meowing for food.

“Morning, Ms. Bagley.”

“Who is
that
?
” she said, eyeing Libby, who reluctantly had come out of the truck.

“It’s me, Ms. Bagley—Libby Tyler. Remember me?”

“Libby Tyler!” she said. “Why’d you bring her up here?” she asked of Sam as she took Libby in from the top of her curls to the canvas sneakers she was wearing.

“She’s helping me today. I brought you a few things.”

Millie’s gaze shifted back to Sam. “I don’t need nothing, I told you I don’t. I told you to stay off my property. What’d you bring?”

He hadn’t brought much: canned beans, bread, and the like. “I thought maybe you and the cats were hungry, so I brought out a few groceries. I’m going to get it out of the truck. And while I’m getting the things, I want you to promise me you’re not going anywhere near that shotgun.”

“I got a right to bear arms,” she said defensively.

“But you don’t have a right to wave it at a law enforcement officer.” Libby, he noticed, had inched much closer to him. He could have reached out and put his arm around her.

Millie flicked her wrist at him. “
Ack,
you’re always talking. And I don’t need your goddamn charity.”

“Well, I’m going to leave a few things all the same. If you don’t want them, you can pass them on. Libby, will you help me?” He turned to look at Libby, but she was already scurrying for the back of the truck.

“You ain’t nothing but a two-bit sheriff’s officer out here in the middle of nowhere cuz no one else will take you!” Millie snapped.

Whether Millie knew that for a fact or had somehow managed to blindly hit a nerve, the truth in her accusation stung Sam. Because he’d once been more than a two-bit deputy. And now, the only post he could get was this one.

He opened the gate of his truck and handed a bag of cat food to Libby.

“Told you. Mean as a snake,” Libby whispered.

He picked up the box of canned goods and walked around the truck, Libby just behind him.

“I didn’t ask you to bring me
nothing,
” Millie continued to complain, her gaze locked on the food.

Sam put the box down on the bottom porch step, and Libby put the bag of cat food beside it. A few of the cats rose up, stretching long before wandering over to sniff the bag.

“And don’t think you can bring that crazy bitch girlfriend of yours around me,” Millie added for good measure, gesturing to Libby.

Libby gasped. “I’m
not
his girlfriend. And I’m not crazy!”

“Then what the hell are you doing up here with him?”

“I told you, Ms. Bagley, she’s a friend,” Sam said calmly. “Now look, you know winter’s coming. If you like, I could come out and chop some wood for you and make sure you don’t have any cracks that will let the wind in,” he suggested.

“Maybe
you’re
the crazy one,” Libby whispered.

“I don’t want you coming out here! Next time you come, I’ll just shoot you and your tramp. How many times do I got to tell you, you ain’t welcome on my property?”

The cats were beginning to circle around Sam and Libby, their tails high, rubbing against his leg. Sam had seen a lot in his time, but if there was one thing that gave him the creeps, it was these cats. “I was just offering,” he said. “Have a good day, Ms. Bagley. I’ll be back to check on you in a couple of weeks.”

“Don’t come back!” She reached down to pick up a cat. “You come out here again and, by God, I
will
shoot you! I do all right on my own!”

Sam put his hand to Libby’s waist, nudging her toward his truck.

“Good-bye, Ms. Bagley,” Libby said.

“Oh for shit’s sake, girl, just go on,” Millie said disdainfully, and dropped her cat, bending over to pick up the box of canned goods. “I don’t want your type anywhere near me. They should have kept you locked up if you ask me. No telling when you’ll go off again.”

Libby halted and turned back to Millie Bagley.

“Come on, Libby,” Sam said. “Don’t give her the satisfaction.”

But Libby didn’t move.

“What?” Millie demanded. “You got something to say, Libby? I always knew you was a loon. I’m just glad they got you before you did any more harm. You keep taking your medicine now.”

“I’m curious, Ms. Bagley. Did you think I was a loon before or after I delivered your meals twice a week? Because I don’t remember you thinking there was anything wrong with me then.”

“Come on,” Sam said, and took her by the elbow, forcing her to walk as Millie cursed at her from the porch.

He opened the door of his truck and helped her inside, then walked around to the front, giving Ms. Bagley a cold look as he did. Not that it mattered—she had her food and was cooing to one of her cats now.

Libby was already buckled in before Sam could get into the truck. He turned the ignition and headed down the pitted drive.

When they had cleared the house and were on the paved road again, he pulled over and looked at Libby. “I’m sorry about that,” he said. “I had no idea she knew about you other than from Meals On Wheels.”

Libby responded with a flick of her wrist. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Libby, I—”

“No, really,” she said. “Do you think I don’t know what people say about me, Sam? I have lived in Pine River all my life. I know all these people, and I know how they talk. I know what they think of people who have nervous breakdowns, and it’s not good. Half the people in that town think there’s no burden you shouldn’t be able to bear, that what doesn’t kill you should make you stronger, and that God never ever hands us more than we can handle. They have no use for people like me, and I know it. The only difference between everyone else and Ms. Bagley is that she has the guts to say it to my face. So . . . it’s okay.”

Sam was in no position to argue with Libby, because she was right. Like her, he knew how talk circulated in this town. How someone could smile and ask about you, and offer to help in some way, but then sit at the bar an hour later repeating what they’d heard, how you looked, inventing signs of trouble.

BOOK: Return to Homecoming Ranch (Pine River)
3.3Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Mummified Meringues by Leighann Dobbs
The Impossible Governess by Margaret Bennett
Another Insane Devotion by Peter Trachtenberg
Gerda Malaperis by Claude Piron
Scammed by Ron Chudley
Lucinda's Secret by Tony DiTerlizzi, Holly Black