Out of a Texas Night

by Phyliss Miranda

  Play nice. Play nice. He had to keep reminding himself. Regardless of what buttons Stanley pushed, Brody would just bear it and go on. He’d had to do that a zillion times as a cop, so he’d treat this like any other investigation.

  He parked in his usual place and came in the back door. As he had anticipated, Stanley stood at the butcher block, cutting meat. He didn’t even look up when his brother-in-law walked in.

  Brody reached over and picked up a slice of brisket from the serving warmer pan. “Hi, old man. Smells good. I don’t know how you cut the slices so perfect. I used to think you all used a meat slicer before I found out you do it all by hand.” He took a bite. “Really great flavor.”

  “You want a roll to go around that meat?” Stanley reached up on the shelf and took one from under the cellophane wrap and handed it to Brody. “Freshly made.”

  “Thanks, man. Is my sister out front?”

  “Yep. Get you a cup of coffee. I owe you a big apology because I dropped your special mug the other day. I’ll find one to replace it.” Stanley began chopping the part of the beef that most people thought was undesirable but adds that recognizable flavor to chopped brisket sandwiches.

  “Thanks, but you don’t have to. Everyone has slippery hands every now and again. Brody strolled into the dining room, got some coffee, and took a seat at the table where Winnie was sorting flatware.

  “Good to see you, big brother.” She put a handful of iced teaspoons upside-down in a holder. “But I think if you want any woman to look at you twice you need to get that ugly mop on your head cut. I’m surprised that Avery allowed you to kiss her more than once—”

  “You saw that?” Brody’s hand shot to his chest.

  “Of course, you may not have had time to stop by, but I’ve kept an eye on you. She’s sure cute.” With a damp cloth, she rubbed a spoon and put it in the holder.

  “So you know her?” Adrenaline rushed through his body.

  “Well, kinda. She’s with Mesa LeDoux when I see her mostly. For some reason Avery doesn’t sound right, but that’s the name I was told. I don’t know if she’s local, but until a couple of weeks ago I hadn’t seen her around for years.”

  His luck had just run out. Brody thought for sure he was about to find out Avery’s last name and then could locate her. He reminded himself for the umpteenth time that she might well be an out-of-town visitor who had come to Kasota Springs just for the festival.

  Brody nodded his head toward the kitchen. “Why’s he in such a happy mood?” He deliberately raised his eyebrow.

  “Don’t know, but it’s nice. I didn’t give him any last night, if that’s what the raised eyebrow meant.”

  They shared a laugh.

  “Maybe he’s still sorry about breaking your cup. It’d been a long day, actually three days, because we had to shop, cook, and get ready for the catering, plus keep the doors open here. I know he felt bad about your cup.”

  “It upset me, just because you’d given it to me years ago.” He took a sip of coffee and sat his standard-issue café cup down. “I have something we need to discuss.”

  “What in the world could be that serious?” She began filling the napkin holders. “Are you getting married? Oh no, getting a haircut?”

  “Maybe letting that hole in your ear grow up,” Stanley said from the doorway. “Never thought a grown man should have any ear pierced.”

  “No wonder you two are so good together. A true Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis act.” He looked from his sister to his brother-in-law and back but didn’t see any response on their faces.

  Finally, Stanley said, “Join us and we’ll be the Marx brothers. Wasn’t there three of them?”

  “I think so, but I do have something serious to discuss. Since Deuce is so badly injured and they don’t know when he’ll return to the sheriff’s department, I’ve agreed to step away from the JTF and come back here for a while.” Again, he gauged actions for any clue as to how they felt. “Actually, Deuce and I discussed the move at the festival and I made a pretty firm commitment to him.”

  Winnie responded first. “I totally agree. The sheriff’s department needs you, and it’s a whole lot less dangerous here than working nights and looking for God only knows what or who.” She started another napkin holder. “And I don’t even want to know what you do.” She raised her hand, as to say stop. “And, no, I don’t care whether it’s undercover for the county or under your personal covers.”

  All three chuckled, causing Brody to think that maybe this cat and mouse game might be working.

  “What are you gonna do with your house?” Stanley put way too much emphasis on your for Brody’s liking. But then ever since Winnie’s and Brody’s mother had passed away and left the house in Amarillo to him and the life insurance policy to her, there had always been a chill in the air when the subject came up.

  One time Stanley told Brody that Winnie was still trying to accept that he got a two-hundred-thousand-dollar house, while his sister only got a fifty-thousand-dollar life insurance policy. Brody didn’t believe him then, and things hadn’t changed an iota.

  “I heard that Danny Scott is going to be named interim sheriff.” Winnie broke the silence and turned back to sorting flatware. “Do you want to work for him?”

  “Technically, at the moment, I’d have no choice but to follow his lead. I told Deuce the afternoon before he got hurt that I’d make the change and move back to Kasota Springs. You know the VanZant family.... A promise to a friend is a promise come a drought or an overabundance of spring rain.”

  “I agree with you,” Stanley said. “I’ll be glad to help you out when you get ready to move.” From the sideboard, he brought over several trays of salt and pepper shakers.

  “I’m not sure when, if ever, I’ll put the home on the market to sell. I’m going to spend most of my time at the ranch. It’s closer, and as Lola Ruth Hicks reminded me, ‘The price of gas is going up.’ You gotta trust a gal like Miss Hicks.” Brody reached over and pulled a tray of salt shakers and a heavy box of salt to him. “When I’m not in Amarillo I can always get Mrs. Otis to watch the house for me.”

  “I have to go into town a couple of times a week for supplies; I can check on your mail. Still got your post office box?” Stanley asked.

  “Sure do.” Brody opened the remainder of the saltshakers. “You still have the keys to the house and PO box, don’t you, Winnie?”

  “Yes. It’s in my top left-hand dresser drawer underneath some jewelry boxes. So it’s safe and one thing you won’t have to worry about, but I do want you to know where the keys to both the house and mailbox are,” said Winnie.

  “Thanks,” Brody said.

  Standing with his arms across this chest, Stanley said, “If I can’t check the post office box, I can get Tommy to do it.”

  “I don’t think so, Stanley, but thanks for the offer. There’s never any mail that’s worth a trip to the post office. I’ll be flexible enough to go, although I’ll spend most of my time around here.”

  “So you’ll be able to keep an eye on my brother. He seems to entice you so much.” Out of the blue, Stanley’s tone turned sarcastic and his words reeked with insult.

  “Please, Stanley, don’t start it again,” Winnie pleaded.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, dear. I’m sure Brody knew I was kidding, right?” He looked into Brody’s eyes without any emotion.

  Under the table, Brody clinched his fist so tight that he could have cut off circulation to his fingers. “Of course. I couldn’t have a better brother-in-law. I’d be pleased as punch to have a brother like you to help me out, if I were Tommy.” Brody went back to his chore.

  The hot swell in Brody’s stomach almost made him want to vomit for telling such a lie.

  He got up and set the finished trays of salt shakers on the shelf. “Gotta go.” Brody leaned over to kiss his sister’s head. “Love you, lit
tle sis.” He turned to face Stanley. “How’s your brother? Understand he had a cold or a touch of the flu yesterday.”

  “He’s none of your concern. He’s doing fine and you need to focus on real criminals, not a kid like my brother.” Stanley’s mocking words followed him into the kitchen.

  Play nice! Play nice!

  “Stanley, if you all need anything with Tommy, don’t hesitate letting me know.”

  “You’ll be the first to know.” Sarcasm imbedded itself in Stanley’s tone.

  Well, the visit proved one thing. If Brody were in Tommy’s shoes, he’d be thankful to have a cunning liar of a brother to help him out by fibbing for him all the way to the core. The biggest benefit? He could get stoned and along the way try to wipe out the sheriff and his brother would look the other way or maybe drive him home.

  It was always convenient to have a family member like Stanley Mitchell on your side.

  Chapter 10

  Avery stood on the porch with her arms clutching her waist as if trying to hold everything together. She had so many feelings running through her that she didn’t know whether to run or stay.

  If she didn’t return to her old job in Houston, she definitely would always feel she hadn’t faced her feelings of guilt for her partner’s death. Everyone would think she’d been hiding from the reality that it was her fault Lee was shot and killed.

  She began jogging her favorite course: West Main along the railroad tracks until she crossed over to the Dairy Queen and hit the road leading to FM208 near Mesa’s ranch.

  Ever since she’d been allowed to run without having an adult with her, she’d never deviated from her path.

  Just the idea of getting out into the fresh spring air lightened her mood a bit as thoughts of her childhood took over. Before she had run as exercise, she had been allowed to play in the town square or on the Sullivan Ranch, where it wasn’t much fun to dodge pump jacks and drilling rigs, not to mention a hungry rattlesnake or two.

  One piece of her father’s advice always remained front and center. After they went out of the cow-calf business, he’d tell her it was easier to cash a check from an oil and gas outfit or an energy company than chase crazy ballsy bulls all over the place.

  That memory made her laugh aloud. It wasn’t until she was eight or nine that she asked him what the difference was between bulls with horns and ballsy bulls. She was particularly interested in knowing about bulls without horns. What were they called? Her father’s explanation confused her more until she was quite a bit older and sat down with the ranch foreman and he explained everything to her. Even jogging with the wind to her back, she knew her face turned beet red.

  But Avery still had decisions to make. Go back to Houston or return to the warm arms of the town she was born in. Even if she could only get a job at the Dairy Queen or work for Clara at Pumpkin’s, at least she’d have money to take care of her immediate needs. She briefly thought about the Ol’ Hickory Inn, which served barbecue, but she’d have to draw the line on that. She didn’t eat beef, which was almost a crime in Texas, and she didn’t even know the owners. She mentally added that to the cluster of things she needed to find out about.

  That left little doubt she had let her job take over her family life. Her parents hadn’t even asked how long she’d been in town. They just presumed she’d arrived after they had left for Dallas, and she had let it stand that way.

  Returning to the matter at hand, Avery figured that since the Ol’ Hickory Inn was out, any of the remainder of options would work until she could find a better-paying job.

  No doubt her parents would not only allow her to move back home temporarily but encourage her to never move out. She had her own car and plenty of money in savings plus some investments. She’d gotten her good business and financial sense from her father, certainly not her mother.

  Before she realized how far she’d run, she was even with a gigantic wind turbine. She had crossed over FM208 and headed for open prairie without giving it much notice. She would just run the barbed wire fence line, where a path had been formed over the years, and circle back, watching carefully for prairie dog holes. She could make a choice then whether to go see Lola Ruth and get a glass of tea or head back to town.

  In the distance, she saw a few feet of yellow crime scene tape flapping in the wind. Now she knew for a fact this was the area where the sheriff had been injured.

  Although she was a little winded, her headache had ceased and thoughts had cleared. She felt like she’d had a gallon of new life pumped into her. That was, if new life came in gallons.

  Flashing off the brilliant sunrays, a dark amber glass caught her eye. She squatted and looked at the vial without touching it. The label was face up and more faded than legible, but she could see a date of 1963 and Teg Tegler III DVM. She knew right away the thick prescription bottle had come from the Jacks Bluff’s infirmary because there had been a Tegler working for the ranch since the late 1800s. She didn’t know what the bottle was doing out there. But since it was fairly close to where Deuce had been hurt and it hadn’t been out in the elements very long, she certainly didn’t want to handle the bottle without gloves. She took three clean tissues, securely wrapped the vial and put it in the pocket of her running shorts. Luck was on her side, because she had selected shorts with zipper pockets.

  Suddenly, she heard someone running behind her. She was on private property, so there were few people who liked to dodge mesquite and yucca enough to go through that area. Most, if not all, would be on horseback.

  Avery had her own path.

  She made an effort to stay calm, but when she thought back to the fact this area lay exactly where Deuce had been hurt, chills ran up and down her spine. And now to have someone following her.

  The cautious side of Avery kicked in. She slowed down and listened carefully.

  A man, by the sound of the shoes—big ones—slowed.

  Her next option, speed up and watch for an exit or a stand of trees to hide in. Mesquite would hurt like hell, but it was better than death. Most ranches in the panhandle of Texas had been owned by the same families for generations, so few had other type of trees unless they were around old abandoned homesteads or ranch foremen’s camps. Since she hadn’t run this path for some time, except for the last two weeks while she stayed with Mesa, she had to really observe everything around her.

  The person chasing her closed in.

  Perspiration ran over her shoulders and down her back.

  Her only other choice was to circle back and take him down like a professional. Spying a small arroyo running beneath the bottom row of barbed wire, she went down on her knees, then her belly, and crawled under it before she circled back. She hid behind a stand of mesquite trees with her back to the path until she heard him nearing the dry crossing.

  At just the right time, she rolled into the ravine, but with the depth of the gully, the barbed wire post obstructed her vision. Hoping not to be seen, she ducked until he passed. All she could see were running shoes, men’s extra large, if she were a betting woman.

  Avery lagged behind the man and couldn’t see any more than she could while in the gulch. She lunged, hitting him in the middle of the back with one shoulder. He fell to his knees. As she applied pressure to the middle of his back, he lay facedown with her straddling him.

  As fast as a camera flash, from behind she simultaneously slid her left arm under his arm and crossed his chest while her other arm came over his shoulder and she locked her fingers together as tightly as possible. She had him totally under control. Her knees and arms were out of his reach and she was on his back. One tight squeeze and he’d be temporarily out like a light.

  “What do you want with me, you bastard?” Avery almost yelled, wishing she had a third hand to slug him with.

  Suddenly, with a full body press he flipped and straddled her, holding her hands above her head. His knees were t
ight against her hips.

  She stared into Brody’s crystal-blue eyes. A flush of adrenaline gushed through her body like she’d never experienced before, even when she had taken down a criminal.

  “I’d like the same answer, but I wouldn’t add bastard to the end.” He rolled over, taking her with him. Their faces, lips, were only a breath apart. “I presume you didn’t realize that I had circled back at the curve when I saw you shimmy under the barbed wire?”

  “I guess you’re a better cop that I thought you were.”

  As hard as she tried, she couldn’t ignore the feel of his well-developed, muscular body against hers. She’d try another approach since he didn’t respond to her statement—which could have been taken as a compliment or an insult, depending on his mood. It was very obvious he hadn’t thought her takedown was all that cute. “Would you please let me go and I’ll explain the reason behind my actions?”

  She could tell by the look on his face he wasn’t interested in listening to any explanation. After all, she had played it very loose with the procedure on that particular hold. She knew he was muscular, but it’d been months since she had been forced to use that maneuver, and he wasn’t exactly a hundred-pound elf either.

  Brody jumped to his feet and put out a hand for hers.

  Avery looked at his palm, to his face, and back down before allowing him to assist her to her feet.

  A smile that could brighten a rainy day settled over his face. “I know you figured that once I got your hand in mine there are a number of pretty vicious holds I could pull on you as payback. Right?” The warmth in his voice overshadowed his smile.

  “I’ve…I’ve been around the office and seen posters and sat in on presentations about various holds, but I’ve never performed any except at the gym with other novices.” She began dusting off the dirt and prairie grass from her clothes and knees...and prayed he didn’t see the deception.