by Vikki Walton
“We are friends. We can work this out.” Christie held up her hands and tried to back away.
Trish advanced. “I wish we could, but unfortunately, you’re going to have a terrible freak accident.”
Christie took another step back. “Plus, that has your prints all over it, and I told Pop I was with you, so it’s going to point to you.”
“Don’t worry. As I said…a tragic accident.” Tears sprung to her eyes. “See, I’m already heartbroken.” A smile quickly replaced the tears. “Drama class, remember it? I took more classes in college, too. They came in so handy.”
“You’re crazy!” Christie yelled.
Trish lunged at Christie with the knife. Christie twisted to the right, and the knife hit her upper arm. In a quick movement, Christie grabbed the fleshy part of Trish’s hand and pressed down with all her might. Trish fell to her knees, screaming out in pain.
“Drop it!” Christie shouted.
The sound of voices and men running across the field kept Christie upright and pressing on Trish’s hand.
One of the men said, “You can let go now.” Someone removed her hand, and she heard the deputy’s voice on the radio.
“Need Ambulance. Taylor Ranch.”
Another voice answered and the deputy replied, “Suspect in custody.”
She looked down at her arm and the red that was spreading down her sleeve. She raised her hands and stared at them as they shook. Her body trembled.
I’m going into shock.
She dropped to the ground and bent her head to her knees. She began counting her breaths.
One… Two…
Her mind knew what to do but her body and emotions wouldn’t listen. She broke down sobbing. Her arm throbbed with pain, but her heart was broken.
A voice carried across the expanse of pain and sorrow. “Step back. That’s my girl.”
“Daddy,” she cried out.
Chapter Fifteen
“We the jury pronounce the defendant guilty.”
Guilty.
Guilty.
Guilty.
The words kept repeating in Christie’s mind. How could her friend—the one she’d known practically all her life—be guilty of murder? It was a surreal feeling. Even more strange was getting a phone call from the jail where Trish was being held. After the jury had pronounced Trish guilty of manslaughter, the judge had handed down a sentence of ten years. With good behavior, Trish could be out in a few years. The question was why would she possibly want to see Christie?
Driving up to Kerrville seemed to take forever. After going through the security protocols, Christie found herself in a room with a bank of phones. Glass partitions separated them. Trish picked up her phone, and Christie followed suit. They said nothing and only stared at one another.
After a while, Trish sighed. “I’m sorry.” She tipped her head. “About your arm. I went insane. I was about to lose everything. My son, my home, my husband…”
Trish had ended up losing more than that, she’d lost her freedom and destroyed lives around her in addition to her own. She roughly wiped the tears from her eyes. “Anyway. I’m being transferred tomorrow to the state, um, facility and I want to give you something.” This wasn’t something Christie expected. She waited as Trish continued, “I want you to have my horses. Mark is filing for divorce and selling our house. Poor Jess.”
Christie shook her head. Trish had brought this on her son, not her husband.
“Is Jess going to live with his dad in Midland?”
“He doesn’t have a choice. He has to go with his father. But it’s going to be so hard on him. And with only one year left in high school. His coach said he had a great chance at a football scholarship.” She placed her palm on the glass. “Unless…someone lets him stay here and finish out the year.”
Christie shook her head. “You certainly don’t mean at Pop’s place?”
“Oh, would you? It would mean the world to me, Christie.”
“No. No.” Christie sat back in her seat. “Pop is too old. He can’t handle a teenage boy.”
“But you could.”
“I think you’re forgetting. I’m only here for a bit. I have a life, elsewhere.”
“Doing what? Caring for dying people? How is that a life?”
“I really help them. And their families.” Christie fumed.
Trish nodded. “I’m sure you do, and that you’re really good at it. But aren’t you ready for something different? Don’t you want to come home?”
“We don’t have the room, even if that was a possibility. I’ve been sleeping on the couch because the back room isn’t livable until it’s been cleaned out and repairs are done in it.”
“I could talk to Mike. He’s always respected Mr. Taylor. I know he understands that Jess will be by himself while he’s out in the oilfields. How much better if he could stay in Comfort where he has friends, someone can watch over him, and he can finish his last year at school? He could go up to Midland on breaks to see his dad.”
Christie felt the pull.
No. You’re not getting involved. But poor Jess. He doesn’t deserve this. He’s a good kid.
Trish smiled. “I can see you’re torn. Don’t do it for me. Do it for Jess. Plus, he’s an old pro with the horses. He can help you around the property, too. He loves working with his hands.”
Jess was a strapping young man—over six foot with lots of muscle. It would definitely benefit Pop to have Jess there to help around the house with chores.
“Listen, how about you think about it? Talk with Pop about it. See what he thinks. In the meantime, Jess is staying with his friend’s family. And, of course, Mike would pay a monthly stipend for Jess so you wouldn’t be spending any of your money on him.” A guard came up and touched Trish’s shoulder. “Well, looks like my fans are calling. Please. Think about it.” She stood and replaced the phone.
Christie stared at the blank space. She’d been surprised that Trish would give her the horses, but Mike would certainly sell them. He couldn’t care for them being away in the oilfields. Christie loved horses, and she and Champ had formed a bond in their short time together, but she had no place for them where she lived. Certainly, Pop was in no physical state to care for the horses. Jess could care for the horses without a problem, but other issues would be involved. She had a lot to think about and a trip back to Comfort to ponder everything.
But aren’t you ready for something different? Don’t you want to come home?
Truth be told, Pop wasn’t getting any younger. There was no telling how long he would be around. The incident with the stove the other night had increased her fear of him living on such a big property alone. Plus, she knew the Websters wouldn’t stop their constant attempts to acquire the property. The sight of Curtis passed out in the field came to her mind. That could have been Pop.
Conflicting emotions pulled at her. She had made no progress or decision by the time she pulled up in front of the old place. Pop came out onto the porch, waving a dishtowel with his uninjured arm.
She slid out of the truck and was greeted with something that sounded like “Deetjet?” He wiped the towel across his forehead. “Hotter than a—”
“No. I haven’t eaten yet.”
They ate German potato salad, coleslaw, and smoked brisket. When they finished, Christie told Pop to go outside and that she’d clean the dishes. After making quick work of the washing up, she joined him on the porch. A breeze from the ceiling fan cooled off the day’s heat and made the area bearable. They rocked in silence.
“You know, girly? I been thinking ‘bout what you said. I done feel sorry for that kid, Jess. But I’m just too old and set in my ways to have another young-un to bring up.” He pointed to a spot out across the field.
“That area would be a good spot for a swimming hole.”
Christie turned to him with a surprised look. “Um, what brought that up?”
Pop raised his hand and stopped her from continuing. “Not for me. Ya know, I was thinking tha
t, when I die, you will need to sell this place, and if we put in a pool and a nice little house behind it, you could stay there, ya know, when ya come home to visit and such.”
“For visits?” Christie made a face and raised her eyebrows.
“Yep. Course, if we did build it, it could be a place for poor Jess to stay, too. But he’d need someone here more full-time like.”
Christie bit at her lip. “Full-time like?”
“I can’t do it, but I wouldn’t mind the help, that’s for sure.” He glanced over at her, pushed his chin up and pursed his lips. “What do you think, darlin?”
“I think it’s time I moved home.”
~~~
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Other Books by Vikki Walton
Backyard Farming Series
Chicken Culprit
Cordial Killing
Honey Homicide
Taylor Texas Series
Death Takes A Break
Death Makes A Move (2020)
Death Stakes A Claim (2020)
Death Bakes A Plan
Nonfiction Books
Work Quilting: Piece Together Diverse Income Streams, Live an Insanely Awesome Life!
The Smart Women’s Guide to Travel
