by Nya Rawlyns
Josh’s breaths came fast and choppy. “I-I heard Sorenson talking, saying it looked deliberate and all I wanted was to find who’d do such a thing, make them pay and pay and...” Throat finally closing as raw emotion overwhelmed his senses, Josh let himself teeter on the precipice. It was no act.
Marcus took his left hand and gripped it gently, his thumb making small circular motions over the bruised knuckles. He murmured, “It’s over. Let it go, Josh. You’re safe, we’re all safe.”
“Are we... safe, I mean? Somebody set that fire. And it wasn’t just some kids not knowing better. That was malicious. They meant for it to hurt.”
“But why the Barnes? How do they factor in all this?”
Josh pounded the bed with his right fist, working out his frustrations. He growled, “We need to talk with Will, find out what he knows, if anything. I’d bet my left nut his folk’s place was targeted because Will saw something he wasn’t supposed to or...”
Marcus said what Josh hated to consider, but from their vantage point, all the signs pointed in the teen’s direction. “If Will’s involved, then I’m betting he’s tangled with those four thugs, and not just last Sunday afternoon.” He scrubbed at his mouth, his brows drawn together in a frown. “I can’t believe he’d be mixed up with a gang. I’ve known him his whole damn life, Josh.”
“Same here. But who knows what happens when they hit high school. It’s not like it’s local and we have the luxury of knowing the teachers and seeing the kids walk to school or hang around town. It’s a regional campus and one you and I know has had more than its fair share of run-ins with drug dealers.”
“Shit, cowboy, I hope to hell that’s not the case. It would kill his parents...”
Shifting his torso so he could look at Marcus directly, Josh, said, “I went to Laramie, to the Fairgrounds, to talk with him. Coach said he missed the team penning drill. I assumed it was because he’d been banged up so bad, but now I’m wondering about that.”
“Don’t. That boy’s a hurting pup. John was worried about him breaking more ribs he was working so hard at the fire.”
“Still, seems to me he’s a person of interest. Maybe he saw something he shouldn’t and doesn’t have a clue. Or he knows why those four hoodlums are hanging around our area causing mischief and is afraid to tell. Whatever the reason, we won’t know until we sit him down and ask questions, with or without his father present.”
The nurse popped in and said, “Mr. Colton, I left your lunch in your room. Would you like me to bring it in here?”
Marcus looked at Josh, the question is it all right on his face. Josh grinned and said, “Why don’t you wheel that tray of yours in here, Marcus. That pretty lady’s got more to do than play waitress for a couple of old coots like us.”
Marcus chuckled. “Speak for yourself, cowboy. I’ll be right back.”
Josh whispered, “Thank you, God, for small favors,” as he pulled his own table into position. The aide entered and set the tray down, lifted the lid and held it away from the platter. He smiled. “Looks good enough to eat, ma’am.”
“They’ll be bringing the discharge papers along in a bit, Mr. Foxglove. And the nurse will have some instructions about keeping your wound clean.”
Marcus wheeled his table into the room and positioned it on the opposite side of the bed. “Scooch your legs over so I can sit. If I use the chair, I’ll need a couple telephone books to get me high enough to reach the damn tray.”
By the time Becca showed up and they’d been carted to the entrance in wheelchairs, they had a plan in place for looking into what was going on. It drove Josh nuts that they knew all the actors, but not what was driving them to move from annoying acts of vandalism and petty theft to a serious case of arson. He’d paired Petilune and the Giniw kid, possibly Petilune’s brothers and the four unknown troublemakers, with Will Barnes a potential link for all the parties.
Of course, the most gnawing question was, what was going to happen next and what could they do to stop it?
Becca drove up in Marcus’ van. “Hope you don’t mind me borrowing this, Mr. Colton. With the girls and us, seemed the best way to do it.”
“It’s Marcus, darlin’ and no, I don’t mind at all.” He slipped into the back seat with the girls while Josh hoisted himself in the front seat.
When they got to the ranch, Petilune herded Maudie and Felicity inside while Becca explained, “We cleaned it out best we could.” She grimaced and pointed to the small stack of supplies in the corner. “It was kind of a mess from all the crap people were tracking in. We gathered up whatever was still usable and stowed it there.”
Marcus thanked her, then looked puzzled when Becca held out a thick envelope. “What’s this, girl?”
“Folks passed the plate and took donations for all the shovels and stuff you brought. We all figured you wouldn’t want anything back, especially considering the shape most of the tools were in, so...” She ducked her head and blushed. “Probably don’t come close to compensating you, but it seemed only fair to try to make amends.”
Marcus opened the envelope like it had a viper hidden inside. After thumbing through the stack of bills, he said, “I can’t take this. It wouldn’t feel right if I did. Everybody pitched in. I was just doing my part.”
Before Becca could dig in and argue until the cows came home, Josh said, “Why don’t we give this to Polly? After what happened I think we all could use a celebration, and who better than her to put a party together for the whole town?”
Marcus nodded and rubbed his eye. Josh was pretty sure the man was hiding tears. Hell, he was choking up.
Addressing Becca, Marcus said, “I’d be honored if you’d see to that. Maybe you and the girls and Petilune could make it a real special affair, something with a fun theme?” He handed her the envelope, his chest rising and falling with a sigh of relief when Becca accepted it. She looked as touched by the gesture as Josh felt.
Marcus said his goodbyes and climbed in the van. Becca jabbed Josh in the ribs and waggled her eyebrows.
Josh mouthed, “What?”
Clearly irritated, his sister stomped to the van and said, “We’re having a roast chicken on Sunday. Josh was wondering if you’d like to join him, me and the girls?”
Becca and Marcus swiveled to stare at Josh. The blush started at his toes and rocketed to the stitches in his scalp. He mumbled, “That’s right,” and then hastened to add, “If you like, we can do a trail ride too. Maudie’s got a horse all picked out for you.” Where the hell had that come from?
Marcus stared dumbfounded long enough to make Josh want to dig a hole in the ground and then pull the dirt over top of himself. He didn’t actually hear Marcus agree, just Becca saying, “No, just bring yourself. Oh, and don’t worry about a change of clothes. We don’t stand on that fancy stuff, okay?”
After the van disappeared from sight, Josh said, “I can’t believe you just arranged a date for me and Marcus.”
She huffed, “It’s not a date. It’s just Sunday dinner and a trail ride,” and hurried off to see why the girls were hooting and hollering behind the house.
Rocking on his heels, Josh grinned. Sunday dinner and a trail ride was just family stuff, having a neighbor over to share a meal, nothing more, nothing less. And Becca had been the one to say it... if he wanted to get laid, then yeah, it was a date.
Feeling smug and panicked at the same time, Josh muttered, “It’s a date then.”
Chapter Thirteen
Skirmishes
Marcus yawned and stretched, his body aching to just sit and relax for a few minutes, but instead he’d been running around like a chicken without a head as the cleanup crews added to the growing list of supplies needed.
The lumber mill had a load of posts on the way to replace the ones burned, but the crews had already stripped every grade of barbwire in the store. That meant sending his Wednesday part time helper to Laramie and Cheyenne to collect inventory promised him by the suppliers. He shuddered thinki
ng about Cobb, with his cataracts and gleeful disregard for the speed limits, on that narrow road. The shudder turned to a grin. The elderly man had stood straighter, squared his shoulders and damn near saluted at having a chance to be part of the action.
Am I going to be like that? Will I take to the highway with no license or insurance, an up yours to the county cops, driving like a bat out of hell because what you remembered was being eighteen, not seventy-eight? Free and carefree, nimble and quick, full of yourself and convinced you’d live forever?
Marcus muttered, “Damn straight.”
“Language, Mr. Colton.” It was Petilune, her cheerful voice lifting the weight of the day off his shoulders.
“Well, now. I didn’t know it was getting so late.” He checked the clock on the wall and fake frowned. “You’re early. Tell me you’re not playing hooky, missy.”
Petilune blushed and jigged in place. She seemed overflowing with nervous energy. “No, sir. It’s teacher in-service day. We got let out early, is all.”
“Oh, okay then. I guess that’s all right.”
Marcus checked her over. She was wearing a new peasant skirt and a frilly blouse he hadn’t seen before. The waistband had been rolled and tucked in such a way Marcus figured Becca had donated the outfit for the girl to wear to school. Becca was sturdy in build while the child had yet to fill out.
It didn’t seem fitting that a young girl, pretty as Petilune, had to go through life wearing hand-me-downs. More than once, he’d been tempted to take her into Laramie to let her buy something new to wear.
Talk about not being fitting...
That would have tongues wagging, for sure. But it’d be worth it to see the child’s face light up, knowing she had something special that was hers alone.
The girl fidgeted as she stared at the floor. Marcus was about to remind her she needed to get started on the display case, but found himself saying instead, “You’re looking mighty pretty today, young lady. Is that a new outfit?” Blushing to her curly blonde roots, Petilune nodded. “Seems to me that’s too nice to be wearing in a dirty old place like this.”
The poor child’s face blanched. Eyes darting around the store, she gasped, “I don’t have nothing to change into. I’m so... so sorry, Mr. Colton, I-I...”
Marcus reached under the counter and found a fresh apron. It was a coarse, sturdy sailcloth with enough material to wrap the girl like a mummy. On himself it fell to his knees. On Petilune it would reach to the floor and then some.
Placing the apron on the counter, he said, “I have a special job for you, sweetie.” He pointed to an empty bin near the front doors. “You see all that stuff in those two duffle bags and on the floor?”
“Yes sir.”
“Those were at the fire. I was thinking we should put them on sale. What do you think?”
The girl hadn’t moved from her spot by the counter, but she gave the equine and bovine supplies a good look, then wrinkled her nose. “They smell funny. And they’re dirty too.”
“Exactly. They need cleaned up first and then set out so folks can stock up on barn supplies if they’ve a mind.” Leaning his elbows on the counter, Marcus gazed into the girl’s eyes. “Think you can do that for me?”
Nodding enthusiastically, Petilune fingered the apron, drawing it closer to the edge of the counter. It was clear the girl had something else on her mind. Marcus feared she was going to ask about going home, which would be expected given no one had yet to work out what they were going to do with the child long term. So far, given all the upset—Josh getting injured and all the chaos up and down the valley as the Fire Marshall investigated while volunteers tried putting it all to rights—seeing to Petilune’s living arrangements hadn’t been high on anyone’s list.
They were playing it by ear, but that wasn’t a situation that could go on indefinitely. Marcus needed to face the fact he had no legal standing, no matter how much so-called evidence he could bring to bear against Janice. What with all the innuendo and wink-wink offers, the truth was he had accepted Janice’s proposition, just not in the way she’d intended.
But a bargain with the devil was still a bargain, and there were too many ways it could be interpreted to risk losing his reputation and, ultimately, his ability to see that the child stayed relatively insulated from her mother’s machinations.
He asked, “Was there something else, hon?”
Dithering, Petilune gripped the edge of the counter with both hands and mumbled, “Um, I was wondering...” Marcus umm’d and waited. “I was thinking, since I come in early like... Maybe...”
His heart in his throat, and praying the girl wasn’t angling to meet up with Kit, he asked, “You need time off for a special reason?”
She nodded. “Becca says if it’s okay by you she was gonna take me and the girls to Laramie to go shopping. She thinks her things don’t fit me so good.” She grabbed fistsful of cotton skirt, clearly not agreeing but excited to see what else Becca had in mind.
Marcus tried not to show his relief. “Um, sure, I don’t mind. That’s nice of her to do that.” He was going to say the woman was a saint but Petilune probably already knew that, though she might express it a different way. He and Josh had been right about the child needing a woman’s touch.
Reaching into the cash register, Marcus extracted a few twenties and laid the bills next to the apron. Petilune’s eyes nearly popped out of her skull. She said, “It’s only Wednesday,” giving him a look that suggested maybe he was having a senior moment. “Friday’s payday. Besides... that’s too much.”
Marcus knew damn well what day it was. And he also knew that Petilune handed over every cent she earned at the store to that no good mother and her two brothers. If he’d been smarter, or had had time to think things through, he’d have set up an account at the closest bank and done direct deposit of at least a portion of the girl’s paycheck so the funds didn’t end up lining some drug dealer’s pocket.
He knew the child well. She wasn’t going to accept the money without a special incentive. Thinking fast, he came up with a solution that might work.
“That display there? It’s a reminder how we all fought to save Will Barnes’ and his family’s home. So it needs to look as nice as you can make it. I want everyone who comes in the front door to see that first thing.” Petilune wasn’t convinced but she was listening. “It’s not going to be easy. Like you said, stuff’s pretty filthy. So I’m figuring it’s like doing a job that goes above and beyond. Know what I mean?”
Petilune murmured, “I guess,” as she gathered the apron and the stack of bills into her arms.
Marcus reminded her, “That’s called a bonus, Pet. It doesn’t go to anyone else, just you. Promise me?”
Backing away, the girl turned tear-glazed eyes in his direction. “I promise, Mr— Um, Uncle Marcus.” She tucked the bills into the apron pocket and, humming a tune, knelt on the floor to assess what needed done.
With the phone ringing off the hook, Marcus lost track of time. He was in his office and counting himself lucky that there were no customers to keep track of in the store when the bell dinged, indicating someone had come in.
He shouted, “Be right out,” and answered the phone. There was a problem with fulfilling one of his orders. The wholesaler needed to confirm the lot numbers so Marcus set the phone down and jogged to the small warehouse area to check. He was grumbling, “Damn it, I need to computerize all this shit,” when he heard screeching from the front of the store. Spinning on his heel, he bolted in the direction of the noise.
By the time he got to where he’d left Petilune, she was gone and the apron lay in a clump on the floor. Heart pounding, he wasted precious seconds checking the aisles but there was no sign of the girl or her assailant. When he finally got on the porch, he saw the tail lights of Janice’s junker Chevy taking the left toward town.
His initial response was to jump in his van and head to Janice’s place to confront her about the child. But, what could he say? Or do? He did
n’t have a leg to stand on. And if Janice wanted, she could level a charge of kidnapping or something easily as ridiculous because they’d given the child refuge for almost four days, moving her from one place to another, and leaving Janice completely out of the loop.
That probably was not the smartest move he’d ever made.
He stared into space, lost in thought. It was bad enough the girl had been dragged back into a toxic situation, but knowing she’d gotten to see that families could be different, people could be different—kind and caring—the idea of her losing that spark of happiness was almost more than he could bear.
Bending to pick up the apron, he spied the sign Petilune had made, in uneven block letters. She’d duct taped it to the bin, the words— FIRE SALE—nearly bringing him to his knees.
The sound of gravel set his blood pumping. Maybe Janice had had second thoughts...
But it wasn’t Janice, it was Becca and the girls in Josh’s truck. With a heavy heart he waved for her to come in.
The first words out of her mouth were, “Is something wrong, Marcus?”
“Pet’s gone. Her fucking excuse for a mother dragged her out while I was in the back. I heard screaming and came fast as I could.” He kicked a wooden leg holding up the sale bin. The neat array of bottles and boxes toppled in every direction.
Becca placed a hand on his arm, the touch meant to be reassuring. “She’s her mother, Marcus. There’s not much you can do.”
That wasn’t what he wanted to hear. The crazy situation had him between a rock and a hard place. Staring at the floor, praying for divine guidance, he asked Becca, “What should I do? What would you do?”
She thought for a few moments, then answered quietly, “Nothing.”
“But, I can’t—”
“Yes, you can. You have to. For Petilune’s sake.” She looked at the display and flicked at the piece of paper taped to the side. “Did she do this?”
