To Protect Their Child

by Sheryl Lynn

  “I saw an ad at the feed store. Erles Harbaugh is selling his Morgan gelding. Sue Harbaugh rode him in pleasure trials. He’s got nice manners. Mr. Erles is asking sixteen hundred, but I bet you can talk him down.” Appearing satisfied with her arrangement, she stepped back from the flowers. “Want a drink? Mommy bought some beer.”

  He almost said yes, but changed his mind. “I’m driving. Not a drop if I’m getting behind the wheel.”

  She hooted laughter. “You sound just like Daddy! But you forget the part where he says, ‘and always wear your seat belt.”’

  She set to work on removing the lid from the candy box. “Hey, Ric, can I ask you a weird question?” She slid a surreptitious glance at the doorway then lowered her voice. “Missy Gullman called her daddy a sperm donor. Why would she say that?”

  He nearly fell off the chair. “Uhm, why do you ask?”

  “Missy was sad ’cause he didn’t even call on her birthday. Not a card or nothing. She was crying in the bathroom at school.”

  “Poor kid.”

  “I know when Grandma artificially inseminates cows, the bulls aren’t even around ’cause they got their sperm took by the vet. That’s a sperm donor, right? So how come Missy says her father is one? He’s not just a number in a bull registry.”

  His ears grew hot. He worked a finger under his shirt collar. “Uhm, well, you see, some men are careless. Like, they don’t bother marrying the mothers or they take off and don’t have anything to do with their kids. I guess that makes them nothing more than sperm donors.”

  “Doesn’t Missy’s dad love her? He’s all the way in California, and she doesn’t even know his phone number. She’s a real nice girl. How come he’s so mean to her?”

  “The world is full of stupid people.” Like me.

  Having removed the lid of the tin box, she slowly unwrapped a piece of candy. “Sometimes,” she said, now solemn, “I get kind of mad at Daddy for leaving me. I know he didn’t want to and it isn’t his fault, but I get mad anyway. Then I get mad at myself. Daddy never would have left me on purpose.”

  “I know, honey. It’s hard.”

  She lifted a skinny shoulder. “But if he did do it on purpose, I wouldn’t be crying in no bathroom. Uh-uh! I’d make him look me right in the eye and explain himself.”

  Ric held not the slightest doubt that she’d do exactly that. “It’s never the kid’s fault when the parents are jerks.”

  She bit into the toffee candy. Her eyelids lowered to half-mast. She offered him the tin, but he declined. He didn’t want chocolate or almond bits stuck in his teeth when Elaine finally showed.

  “How come you don’t have kids?” she asked.

  He couldn’t meet her eyes. “I, uhm, it never happened.”

  “’Cause you were in the army?”

  “I traveled a lot.”

  “You thinking about getting married?” Her tone was high and far too innocent.

  “Jodi,” Elaine said. Both turned on their chairs to face her. “What have I said about being so nosy?”

  “Sorry, Mommy.” She wore a gleefully hopeful expression.

  Ric could not breathe. His mouth hung slack.

  Elaine wore a dark green velvet dress, with the hem a few inches above shapely knees encased in black stockings. Over her shoulders she’d draped an open-knit shawl. The simple outfit wowed him and made his heart beat faster. Her hair framed her face in a halo of soft, sable curls. Her lips were red and glossy.

  “You look nice, Mommy,” Jodi said, watching Ric’s reaction.

  Elaine executed a little twirl. She peered coquettishly over her shoulder at Ric. “Thank you.”

  An ankle bracelet of such fine gold links it was more sparkle than substance drew Ric’s gaze to her sexy high heels. He was going to die right here. A happy man.

  “Run on over to Grandma’s,” Elaine said. She leaned toward the vase of roses. A hint of creamy cleavage tormented Ric. She moved her face back and forth so the rose petals caressed her cheeks. “Are these for me?”

  Ric remembered his manners. He rose from the chair and buttoned his jacket. “That dress is worth a few dozen more roses. You look…incredible.”

  “Thank you.” She fluttered her eyelashes. Then, she kissed Jodi’s cheek, leaving a lipstick print. “Don’t keep Grandma up too late. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Jodi shook a finger at her mother. “Don’t keep Ric up too late. He’s an old guy, you know, and needs his sleep.” Snickering, she snatched up a backpack and skipped out the door.

  “I’m sorry,” Elaine said. “I never know what will come out of that child’s mouth. I have to remind her daily about not gossiping.”

  Tell her, he thought, while she’s smiling and safe in her own kitchen. Jodi’s talk, however, about Missy and sperm donors had him rattled. So did Elaine’s loveliness. He didn’t want to spoil one second of their date. “Shall we go?”

  They walked outside into an overcast evening. He suggested she bring a coat. She twirled an end of her shawl and assured him she’d be fine. He opened the truck door, and wished he drove a Mustang or Corvette, something worthy of her. He walked around the truck, stepped in a depression and twisted his ankle. A sharp twinge shot up his back.

  Not tonight, he thought angrily. He took an experimental step. No real pain. He made a mental note to watch his step. He wanted his back strong enough for at least one dance with the lovely Elaine.

  When he took a seat behind the wheel, she said, “I saw you stumble. Are you all right?”

  “Right as rain.”

  He drowned in her eyes, enchanted by her long lashes and a faint shimmer of powder on her eyelids.

  He reached past her. He smelled a light perfume reminiscent of vanilla and honey. Senses reeling, he opened the glove box. He brought out a short handled plastic fly-swatter emblazoned with the feed store’s logo. He handed it to her.

  She turned the swatter over. “It’s too cold for bugs.”

  “Not for bugs.” He started the engine. “It’s for me. I can’t be trusted to keep my hands off you.”

  She playfully tapped his hand with the swatter. “Such a gentleman.”

  If only she knew how very ungentlemanly he felt at the moment. He glimpsed Jodi standing at a window in the big house. She waved to them. The girl obviously approved of her mother dating. He wondered how much she’d approve of knowing Elaine dated a sperm donor.

  In Durango, he had to drive up and down Main Street three times before he found a place to park. Hand in hand, they walked up the sidewalk. Her high heels slowed her step. At least, he hoped it was her shoes and not that she worried about his back.

  The restaurant was packed. Tables were squeezed together to make room for the band and a dance floor. A heady aroma of hickory wood smoke and grilled meats filled the air. Ric could barely hear himself think. He spoke against Elaine’s ear, asking if she’d cared to go somewhere quieter. Her eyes matched the jewel-sparkle of her drop earrings. She assured him she thought this was great.

  He slipped the hostess twenty dollars to put them in an intimate booth. They had to wait an extra fifteen minutes. It was worth it to be in a secluded corner lit by candles that gave Elaine a mysterious glow.

  He ordered wine for her and iced tea for himself.

  She suddenly grasped both his hands. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve dated?”

  “Guess it depends on how liberal Bobby was.”

  Her laughter rang sweetly against his heart.

  “I feel like a kid again.” She shyly lowered her eyes.

  Maybe tomorrow he’d tell her he knew about Jodi. For tonight, he wanted to hear her laughter and admire her beauty and feel gloriously alive.

  “It’s been a long while since I’ve dated, too,” he said.

  “I bet you were a real ladies man in the army.”

  He scrubbed his fingernails against his chest. “I got around.”

  He kept her laughing through dinner—trout for her, Black Angus
filet in brandy sauce for him, then creamy tiramisu for dessert. The band began playing. Couples crowded the dance floor. He watched Elaine tap her fingers and bob her head to the oldies but goldies rock ’n’ roll. Fast dancing in that crowd meant risking injury, so he waited. His chance came when the musicians launched into a sultry slow song.

  He rose and offered a hand. “Care to?”

  She set the shawl aside, revealing creamy shoulders covered by the thinnest of spaghetti straps. “Love to.”

  The dance floor was so tiny and crowded, they could do little more than hold each other and sway. He stared into her eyes. He debated inviting her for a soak in his hot tub, but that would be moving too fast. They’d moved too fast before, and he’d lost her. He wasn’t taking that chance again, even if he was so dizzy from arousal that he half-feared his head was about to float away.

  When they finally left the restaurant, the temperature had dropped. Springtime in the Rockies often brought frost or even snow well into June. Many of the cars parked along the street sported ski racks. He draped his jacket over her shoulders. It hung almost to her knees.

  On the drive home along the dark highway, she leaned her head back and hummed the tune they’d danced to. Content to listen, he concentrated on watching for deer or elk.

  He turned off the highway toward McClintock.

  “Ric,” she said, “there’s something I need to tell you.”

  He tensed. Pain thudded through his back. He knew what she was going to say. He wanted her to say it, clear the air, and give them a fresh start with no secrets between them. He didn’t want to spoil the evening. “Sing some more.”

  “I wasn’t singing.”

  “Humming, then. You’ve got a great voice.” He grinned. “Especially for such a little squirt.”

  She regarded him solemnly. “It’s important. Something…something I should have told you a long time ago.”

  Red and blue lights flared in the darkness. A cruiser pulled out of a side road behind them. Muttering a curse, Ric glanced at the speedometer. He was going five miles under the speed limit.

  “If that’s Uncle King.” Elaine twisted on the seat to see out the back window. “I’ll shoot him.”

  If Ric had a gun, he’d oblige her.

  Ric tapped the brakes until he could safely pull off the road. He asked Elaine to find his registration and insurance card in the glove box. The cruiser stopped behind them. King McClintock emerged. He took a moment to adjust the fit of his hat before swaggering toward the driver’s door.

  Ric rolled down the window. “Hey, sheriff. Is there a problem?”

  Elaine leaned over Ric’s arm. “Yes, Uncle King, is there a problem?”

  King looked startled to see her. His bushy mustache twitched.

  Ric kept his hands on the wheel. He thanked heavens he hadn’t had anything alcoholic to drink tonight. He hoped like hell his proof of insurance card was the right one. He’d received a new one in the mail a few weeks ago and couldn’t recall if he’d stuck it in the truck or not.

  King looked between Ric and Elaine. Then he stepped back as if examining the truck. He brought out a small notebook and flipped through pages. “I got a report of stolen tools. Just so happens that a pickup matching the description of this very one was seen in the vicinity.”

  “You’re making that up!” Elaine cried. “Let me see that report.”

  Ric could have groaned. A box in the truck bed was full of tools.

  “Official business, young lady. Be quiet.”

  “Horse hockey,” Elaine said. “You know darned good and well Ric didn’t steal anything.”

  “I don’t know any such thing. What are you doing with this boy anyway? Seems to me you’re keeping poor company these days.”

  Don’t say anything, Ric urged her mentally.

  When Ric was a teenager, King had pulled him over at least once a week. Twice, Ric had been handcuffed and taken to jail. Once because King insisted Ric had been drinking—which he hadn’t been—and hauled him in for a blood alcohol test. Another time it had been for bald tires. King had impounded Ric’s car. He’d had to shell out nearly a hundred bucks in towing fees and another hundred for the unsafe vehicle fine before his car was returned.

  With a hand on the butt of his sidearm, King ordered Ric out of the truck. Ignoring her uncle’s commands to stay in the vehicle, Elaine jumped out the other side. She stomped around the truck. She was a furious little hen facing down a coyote.

  “This is harassment and you know it, Uncle King. I will not stand for it.”

  “It’s all right, Laney,” Ric said. “I’ve got nothing to hide. He’s just doing his job.”

  “Oh, no he’s not! You’re being a big jerk!”

  “If you don’t get back in the truck, girl, I’ll arrest you for interfering with a law officer.”

  She clamped her arms over her bosom and lifted her chin. “Go right ahead.”

  “Laney…”

  “Get back in the truck.”

  “No.”

  Ric knew that if not for Elaine he’d be in handcuffs right now while the sheriff took a pry bar to his truck in a search for “stolen” goods. He also knew that if the man wasn’t given a graceful way to save face, this was going to turn ugly. He doubted if he and Elaine would be sharing a cell.

  “Hey, Laney, it’s okay.” He modulated his voice into a friendly, nonchalant tone designed to soothe and hold attention. “Tool theft is quite a problem around here. It seems some folks can’t resist picking up whatever they find. What exactly was stolen, sheriff?”

  King shuffled his feet and tugged at his hat brim. He consulted the notebook again even though the lighting was so poor he would have needed night vision goggles to read. “Uhm, one of them…handheld power tools. You know what I’m saying. A saw and drill. Cordless tools.”

  Ric decided exposing the sheriff as a liar in front of his niece was too dangerous, no matter how satisfying it might be. “Those are expensive. What brand?”

  “Brand?” King tugged his hat again, and consulted the notebook. His mustache twitched like a nervous ferret. “Lemme think. That brand Sears sells. That’s it, the Sears brand.”

  “Ah, Craftsman. Good tools.” Ric waited for the sheriff to nod agreement. He sorted through his key ring and found the key to his toolbox. “You’re welcome to look, sheriff.”

  King had no choice except to play this charade to the finish. He shone his flashlight at the truck box. Ric offered to hold the flashlight. Grumbling, King handed it over. He opened the box. All of Ric’s power tools were DeWalt’s.

  “Happy now?” Elaine called. She was hugging herself and shifting her feet. “Can we go? I’m freezing.”

  King slammed the toolbox lid and twisted the key. He all but threw the ring at Ric. His expression said he knew he’d been manipulated. “You can go.”

  Elaine climbed in through the driver’s side and scooted over.

  With his back to Elaine, King lowered his voice to a menacing growl. “You’re engaging in some real unhealthy behavior, boy.”

  “I’ll remember to take my vitamins. Sir.”

  “A regular smart ass, aren’t you? How smart will you be if I go on up to that land of yours and take a look around? Or take a peek at your uncle’s shop? No telling what kind of fire hazard he’s created.”

  Ric understood the threat. If King could cover up a murder, there was no reason he wouldn’t stoop to planting drugs or other nasties on Ric’s property. Anger climbed through his chest. His forehead tightened.

  “Safest way to stay clean is to keep your nose out of places it don’t belong. Get my drift, boy?”

  King strolled back to his cruiser. He cut off the bubble lights and gunned the engine. The tires sprayed Ric with gravel in passing.

  Nice thing about small towns, Ric mused. Not much ever changed.

  Chapter Nine

  Elaine rode in silent, seething humiliation. Near home, she finally made herself look at Ric. His profile seemed set
and stony, harsh in the lights from the truck dash. She was the reason King disliked Ric. Her uncle either knew, or suspected, Ric was Jodi’s father. King would deprive his grand-niece of a father rather than let everyone know a man he considered trash was a part of his family. Miserable and torn, she tugged her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “About my uncle—”

  “One question,” he interrupted. He glanced her way. “If Tate finds proof King is involved in the murder, what’s your position?”

  She blinked rapidly. “Position?”

  “Will you defend your uncle?”

  Her heart sank. “How can you even ask that?”

  They’d reached the entrance to the McClintock Ranch. He slowed the truck. Far in the distance, pale bowls of light glowed around buildings in an otherwise pitch-black landscape.

  “Your uncle threatened to plant contraband on my property. Or maybe he’ll go after Walt. He’s real nervous that we’re getting too close to the truth.”

  She groaned and let her head fall back against the seat. The truck left the paved road. Gravel pattered beneath the wheels.

  “If you hadn’t been with me,” he said. “I’d be in jail right now.”

  “I know. And I’m sorry. But he isn’t evil. I swear to God, Ric. He’s just scared.”

  “Of me?” He laughed, a bitter note. “Right.”

  “Don’t you understand? King is scared of being embarrassed, of losing his job. It’s all he has. Did you know he has three kids? They hardly talk to him. I can’t remember the last time any of my cousins visited. He lives alone, and he’s lonely. His whole identity is being sheriff. He knows he botched the investigation. That’s why he’s acting so mean.”

  Ric focused on the road ahead. His cheek twitched. He chuckled deep in his throat.

  “Why are you laughing?”

  He loosed a long breath. “Ah, Laney, do you have any idea what a good person you are? You give everybody the benefit of the doubt. You’re always willing to look beneath the surface.”

  His words discomfited her. “I try to be fair.”

  “And my question was unfair. I know you’ll do the right thing. I’m sorry.” He groped for her hand, found it and squeezed. “I really am sorry. Forgive me?”