The Terms of Release (5 page)

“Thanks, honey. We miss him.”

“I’ll tell him.” He’d make sure Sage’s momma didn’t need anything too.

Win phoned in, let Grace know he was on a call, and got dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. He’d take his truck too. No reason to stress folks out. Win tried hard not to worry that his family had gone and done something incredibly stupid, but it was tough to get out of his head. The whole thing sucked—Sage Redding seemed to be a decent guy. Scared, at best. PTSD at worst, but decent.

He headed across town, out into BFE, and stopped at the gate, and gave the main house a ring to warn them he was coming.

“’lo?” Ellen sounded out of breath.

“Um, Mrs. Redding? This is Adam Winchester. Win. Doing a welfare check.”

“Pardon me? A what?”

“A welfare check, ma’am. Wilma down to the diner called, worried about your son.”

“Sage? Sage is at the barn, working the colts.”

“Would you mind if I went on down? I’m not harassing him, I promise.”

“Sure. I got biscuits and gravy and sausage. Y’all want some after, come up to the house.”

“Thank you.” Win felt absurdly pleased that she trusted him enough not to tell him to go to hell. He opened the gate, then made sure it closed after he went through.

The main house looked better than the last time he’d seen it, when someone had vandalized the horse barn—the sagging front porch was put back to rights and the carport freshly painted. That was a damned good sign. He’d have to put in a good word with Sage’s parole officer.

He headed down to the barn, strangely eager to see Sage.

The pocket cowboy was in the ring training a beautiful little filly, encouraging her to move around and around. Every time she tossed her head and pranced sideways, Sage stopped, murmuring to her and stroking her nose when she turned to him for encouragement.

Finally, Sage chuckled and whistled, and a fine mare trotted up to the fence. “Come on, you. Go run with your momma and rest. You did good work.” He opened the little gate and out she danced, shaking out her mane.

“Those are some pretty girls you’ve got there,” Win said.

Sage started and looked at him with wide hazel eyes. “Officer. Howdy. Yessir. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing. My name is Win.” Okay, that was stupid, but he was caught in Sage’s gaze, those eyes a fascinating mix of green and gold and gray.

Said eyes stayed on Win a long moment before Sage blinked. “Now I remember you. Your name is Adam. We were in Ms. Daughtry’s Spanish class together.”

Was that a smile?

“We were.” Win hoped that was a good sign. “Went military, after school.”

“Good deal. You like it?”

Whoa
. A smile and now small talk. Win was floored. That was kind of amazing.

“It was okay. I saw the world, you know?” He’d been lucky enough to pull the Med his first tour. “Turkey, Italy.” Combat on his second tour hadn’t been so fun.

“Wow. I don’t have a passport. Folks seem to like it. Going, I mean.” Sage looked at him. “Why are you here?”

“Wilma called. Says you haven’t been in to see her. Four days. I figured I’d make sure no one was giving you a hard time or anything.” Neighborly. That was him.

“No. No.” Sage blushed and shook his head. “You said to keep my head down. I took your advice.”

“Oh shit, man. I didn’t mean to stay home forever.” Win grinned. “I just wanted you to know folks were out to make it hard for you.”

“I know. I figured maybe I shouldn’t make it easy.”

Win could see that. Really. Still…. “Well, Wilma and Bulldog miss you.”

“That’s nice of them. Maybe I’ll stop by and say hi.” Sage shrugged. “You got horses at your place?”

“Me? No. No, I grew up with them, but I’m not home enough.” He felt weird admitting it.

“They need attention.”

“Sage? Sage, your momma says you boys need to come and eat biscuits!” Mr. Redding was standing on the porch, just bellaring.

“Lord.”

Win’s ears went hot. “I don’t have to come up. I would understand if you wanted me to fuck off.”

“Momma makes good biscuits. Come on up. There’s coffee.”

“Thank you.” He meant it too. For someone who knew everyone in town, Win had precious few people who would invite him in for coffee and biscuits.

Sage climbed the fence, then carefully worked his way down. “Let’s go up.”

“Sure.” He followed Sage to the house, trying hard not to stare at the man’s back.

A shitload of dogs came running up, wagging and slobbering, and they each got love from Sage, one at a time. Win grinned, waiting to wade through, but they paid him no mind at all, every one of them wagging and trailing Sage. Oh, someone was well-loved. That as much as anything told Win he was probably right about Sage being in the wrong place back during the Angel thing. Anyone dogs loved that much couldn’t be bad.

“Go on, y’all. Food’s done been poured.” Sage stomped his boots off and wiped his neck with a kerchief that he dug out of his jeans.

Win checked to make sure his boots were clean before following Sage inside. God, it smelled good.

“Hey, boys. Breakfast is ready. Deputy, how do you like your coffee?” Mrs. Redding was wearing a T-shirt that said, “Give Me My Chocolate and No One Gets Hurt.”

“Morning, ma’am. Just black is fine.”

“Boys and their black coffee.” She poured out four cups, adding generous milk and sugar to one. “Give me my nummy brew.”

He grinned. “I bet you like them fancy things from Starbucks.”

“You know it. I love the caramel ones.” She handed him a mug. “Have a seat, y’all. I’ll dish up. Who wants gravy?”

Mr. Redding grunted, nodded, and sat.

“Please.” Win sat too, feeling oddly at home.

“No gravy for me, Momma. I’ll grab the honey.”

Four plates hit the table—
bang, bang, bang, bang
. Then Mrs. Redding sat. “Eat up.”

Win waited to dig in, wondering if the Reddings said grace. It was strange how little he knew about them.

Mr. Redding bowed his head quickly. “Good food, good meat. Good God, let’s eat.”

“Sam Redding!” Ellen almost managed to look horrified. Almost. Sage cracked up, laughing hard, and Win loved to see it. He even let himself chuckle, then dug in happily. He’d opened a lot of cans since he’d left the Army, and this was a treat.

They didn’t eat in silence. He wasn’t sure the Redding men had ever known a single solitary moment of silence in their entire lives. Bless her, Mrs. Redding talked about chickens and horses, about neighbors and church.

Mr. Redding grunted and clicked, but Sage, that man talked back, voice surprisingly deep and weirdly musical.

Win found himself sitting back, listening, soaking it in. No one who heard this could believe that these people raised a killer, that Sage was trouble. The whole vendetta Win’s family had against this man was so ridiculous it made him ashamed.

They all finished eating, and then Sam Redding stood and nodded. “I got a doctor appointment in Greenville. You gonna be able to handle things this afternoon, Son?”

“Well, I don’t know, Daddy. I might blow the whole county to kingdom come while I’m mowing the backyard and cleaning out the old garage so Momma can make me set rat traps.”

Mr. Redding actually grinned. “Don’t be an ass, Son.”

“It’s genetic, Sam.” Ellen winked at Win, her hazel eyes twinkling. “He gets it from his daddy, you know.”

Sam swatted her ample backside playfully. “Woman, go get your shoes and purse. Son, you’re on your own for supper. I’m taking Momma to Red Lobster and a movie.”

“And Starbucks!”

“And Starbucks. Spoiled girl.”

Win waited until the folks were up and moving before blurting out what he wanted to say, “Hey, I could bring supper by.”

“I….” Sage looked utterly gobsmacked. “Yeah? Why?”

“Sage!”

“Sorry, Momma. Adam. Shit, you surprised me.” Sage blushed dark, managing to meet his eyes. “I haven’t had pizza in a dog’s age.”

“Well, I can sure do that. What do you like on it?”

“I’m easy.”

“Pepperoni and mushrooms okay?” How weird was this whole situation? Still, Win wanted to spend more time with Sage. Something about the man drew him in.

“Sure. That’s cool.” Sage was as wild-eyed as one of the colts in the pasture.

“Cool. I’ll come on by around five thirty.” He sopped up the rest of his gravy with one last biscuit. “Anything y’all need from the store, Mrs. Redding?”

“Nope. We’ll shop at the big Brookshire’s in town. Thanks, though.”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you so much for breakfast. I got the day off, if you need any help, Sage.” Win didn’t, to be honest, but he could sure use one. Go riding. Get some air.

“Oh, I’m going to mow and clean out the garage.”

So, was that a no? Win had to think it was, so he bowed out gracefully. “Okay. Well, I’ll be back in time for supper, huh?”

“Yeah. That’d be cool.”

“Okay.” He stuck a hand out impulsively, letting Sage decide whether to shake or not. Sage’s hand was callused and warm, and the shake was normal, not too tight, not too loose. When Sage let go, Win did too, reluctant as he was. “Well, I’ll see you tonight.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll be about. You got my phone number?”

“I don’t.” He could get that too. That was a fine thing. He tapped it into his phone when Sage told him, smiling at Mr. Redding, who was waiting for him to leave, he thought.

Sam Redding nodded at him, once. “You ain’t looking to get my boy in trouble, are you?”

“No, sir.” He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, save letting Sage know not everyone was against him. “I just think he needs a friend.”

“I can see that. Momma, come on, girl.”

“Coming!” Mrs. Redding walked Win out. “He always liked pepperoni. He liked those pepper rings too.”

“Like banana peppers?”

“Uh-huh. I’ll call on our way back home, if you want a fancy coffee, boys.”

Sage looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him. Win gave the man a smile and took pity on him. “Thanks again for breakfast. I’ll see you later, Sage.”

He headed to his truck and waited until he was out of sight of the house to call Wilma back.

“Red Wagon Diner.”

“Hey, honey. It’s Win. I checked in on Sage. He’s fine. Just tired of getting pulled over on the way home.”

“Oh. Well, that’s good, I guess. Tell him we miss him here, though.”

“I will. I bet you see him soon.”

“I hope so. Have a good day, Win. There’s coconut cream pie tonight. I know that’s your favorite.”

“I’m having pizza….” He pondered that. “Hey, can I pick up a couple of pieces about 5:00 p.m.?”

“Surely can. I’ll set two back for you.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Time to go put his uniform on and play cop for a few hours.

Then he’d go get to know this town’s biggest news story in years.

G
OD
,
WHERE
did Momma get all this shit?

The yard was mowed and looked pretty good too, and Sage was organizing the workshop, sweat pouring down him like rain. He’d moved about ten thousand boxes of random crap, a million jars of old nails and screws, and killed a spider the size of Godzilla.

Hell, he’d even gone through the old trunk that was like a rat colony on steroids.

Still, it was starting to look like something reasonable, finally, something that he could make workable and keep shit safe in.

He heard the crunch of tires on gravel and glanced outside, surprised it was so late. Well, damn.

Actually, he hadn’t expected Adam to come back, and this tiny little voice whispered low that they were alone and Office Winchester had a pistol. Officer Winchester, who was Angel’s cousin.

Sure enough, though, Adam stepped out of the truck, wearing jeans and a T-shirt and carrying a bag and a pizza box.

“Hey. Hey, man. Sorry, I got busy in this trap.”

He got a grin, Adam’s teeth white in his tanned leather face. The man looked like one of those Indians in the schoolbooks—maybe Geronimo or Crazy Horse. Angel used to say that their folks came from some tribe over by Louisiana.

Angel had been a stubborn ass about not being Mexican. Hell, half of Texas was part Mexican, but whatever.

Adam nodded. “Time gets away. Wilma called me again, asking when I was gonna come get pie. I was buried in paperwork.”

“Come on, then. I got to feed real quick and clean up. I won’t be long.”

“Sure. Pizza’s good and hot.”

Sage grinned. Yeah, he could smell it, all garlic and spice.

“My trailer’s over there, past the barn. I….” Sage paused. Should he send Adam over without him, have the man come with him to feed?

“I can leave the food in the truck and help you feed.”

Bless him, Win was pretty sensitive to the mood.

“That don’t seem fair….” Sage had to feed, though. Had to.

“What? That way we can both go in together.” Adam went and stashed the food right in the truck, then came back, hands in the back pockets of his jeans.

“Okay. Did you have a good day?” God, he didn’t know what the fuck to say.

“It was fine. I mean, I ended up getting work done.” Adam shrugged. “Show me what to do.”

“Oh, you don’t have to. You can just….” He looked around, trying to search out something, anything for Win to do.
Oh. Oh.
“You want to fill that old tub with water for the pups?”

“Sure.” Adam chuckled, getting the hose. “I’m sorry I’m not more familiar with what you’re doing.”

“It’s not your job.” Sage poured out sweet feed and kibbles, the rhythm like a good country song or a train on the tracks. Right and solid and written on his DNA.

“I guess not. I like to be useful, though.”

“I can understand that.” He got everything settled, easy as pie. Life was starting to work the way he needed it to, now.

Adam ran the water for the dogs and filled a bucket for the donkey and all. It made everything go faster.

“Thanks for the help.” It took two more shakes to get things done, and then he nodded. “Come on, then. We’ll grab the pizza and head to my trailer.” He stopped. “Unless you’d rather go to the main house. It’s not as small.”