“Richard abandoned it in Brewster,” Frank said, “and stole another.”
While he wasn’t surprised, Grady would almost rather lose his truck permanently than have his own brother steal some other rancher’s vehicle.
“It was a newer model,” Frank said with a soft snicker. “Apparently yours was a bit too old to suit his image.”
Grady didn’t miss the sheriff’s well-placed sarcasm.
“Only this truck had an additional advantage,” Frank muttered.
“What’s that?”
“The owner kept a rifle mounted in the back window.”
Grady took a moment to mull over the information. “You don’t think Richard would actually use it, do you?”
The lawman shrugged. “Given the right set of circumstances, I wouldn’t put it past him.”
Grady had never thought of Richard as violent. He’d proved himself to be a weasel and a lowlife, but the fact that he might be brutal enough to use a weapon against another human being surprised even Grady. “What makes you think that?” Grady asked, afraid of what Frank was going to say. Last night he’d alluded briefly to something Richard had done back East, but at the time they were all too concerned about Maggie to give it much thought. “What do you know about Richard?”
The sheriff had never been one to hedge, and he didn’t do so now. “It gives me no pleasure to tell you this, but there’s been an arrest warrant issued for him from New York City.”
“New York? On what charge?”
“The list is as long as my arm,” Frank said with real regret. “Extortion for one. Richard’s been involved in a number of scams, most of them bilking immigrants from Central and South America. Apparently he fed them a pack of lies, luring them into the country with promises of housing and jobs. Promises he had no intention of keeping. He set them up in warehouses in horrible conditions, forced them into menial jobs from which he collected most of their pay. It made big news on the East Coast when his activities were uncovered. Somehow he managed to scrape together the bail, then hit the road the minute he was freed.”
Grady had been angry at his brother and furious at himself, too, for allowing Richard to worm his way back into their lives with his hard-luck story. Richard had taken advantage of his family; that was bad enough. But to learn he’d made a profession of stealing from others made Grady sick. How was it that his own brother—born of the same two parents, raised in the same household—could have lowered himself to such depths? If he lived to be an old man, Grady would never understand what had turned Richard into the type of person who purposely hurt others.
“I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, Grady,” Frank said again.
“I realize that.” His voice sounded strange even to his own ears.
“When and if we find Richard, I won’t have any choice but to arrest him.”
“I understand.” Grady wouldn’t expect anything less. It was what his brother deserved.
“I talked to the New York district attorney this morning. The state wants him bad. Apparently there’s been quite a bit of press regarding his arrest and the charges brought against him. He’s hurt a lot of people, Grady.”
“What happened to him? What made Richard the way he is?” The questions were rhetorical; Grady didn’t actually expect the sheriff to supply an answer.
Frank shook his head. “Hell if I know. I liked Richard. He was always charming and clever—but somehow that turned into conniving and untrustworthy. Why he’s like that, I couldn’t say. Over the years I’ve met other people who were just as rotten, and I don’t believe environment or bad circumstances is always the explanation. Your parents were God-fearing folk, and they raised him right. The fault lies within Richard himself.”
Although Grady already knew as much, it helped to have a lawman as experienced as Frank confirm it.
“Eventually Richard will be caught,” Frank said, as if he felt the necessity to prepare Grady for the inevitable. “And when he is, he’ll be headed straight for prison.”
It hurt to think of his brother doing jail time, but Grady’s sympathies went out to all the people Richard had cheated, himself included.
Grady walked Frank out to his patrol car, then made his way to the barn. He whistled for Rocket and stopped abruptly when the dog didn’t come. Rocket’s hearing was getting bad, and he’d grown arthritic; these days, he mostly enjoyed lazing about on the front porch. But he still liked to accompany Grady to the barn. Just to reassure himself, Grady decided to check on his dog. Rocket had belonged to his father and was already middle-aged—seven years old—at the time of the accident. In the hard, financially crippling years that followed, the dog had become Grady’s constant sidekick and friend. He’d shared his woes, frustrations, joys and sorrows with Rocket, and the old dog always gave him comfort.
A smile came to him when he saw the dog lying on his usual braided rug. He whistled again. “Come on, boy, we’ve got work to do.”
Rocket remained still.
As Grady approached the front porch, his steps slowed. He wasn’t sure when he realized his faithful companion was gone, but by the time he reached the porch steps, his heart was full of dread.
“Rocket,” he whispered and hunkered down beside the dog.
One touch confirmed the worst. Rocket had died, apparently in his sleep.
An intense sadness settled over Grady. On a ranch dogs came and went, and he’d learned the downfall of becoming too attached to any one animal. But Rocket was special. Different. Rocket was a loyal intelligent dog—the best dog he’d ever had; Rocket was also the last tangible piece of his father.
His throat ached and he bowed his head for several minutes, not even trying to fight back the tears.
Once he’d composed himself, he sought out his sister. He found her working in her garden. “I need a shovel,” he announced without emotion, as if he didn’t know where one was kept.
As he knew she would, Savannah guessed immediately that something wasn’t right. “What happened?”
He steeled himself and told her. “Rocket’s gone. It looks like he died in his sleep.”
He watched as the sadness transformed her face. Tears filled her eyes. “Oh, Grady, I’m so sorry. I know how much you loved him.”
“He was just a dog,” he said with a stoicism he didn’t feel.
“Not an ordinary dog,” she added gently.
“No, not ordinary,” he agreed, the pain of loss tightening his chest. “If you agree, I’d like to bury him in your garden by the rosebush you named after Mom.”
She nodded mutely.
They worked side by side, brother and sister. Grady dug the grave, grateful for the physical effort that helped vent his pain. Again and again he was forced to remind himself that Rocket was just a dog, like a dozen or more who’d lived and died through the years. But he couldn’t make himself believe it.
When he finished, he placed a rock as a marker. Savannah stood beside him.
“Goodbye, Rocket,” she whispered.
“Goodbye, old friend,” Grady said.
Savannah sobbed and turned into his arms. Grady held her, battling back emotion himself. An image came to mind, a memory—his father crouched down and Rocket running toward him, leaping into his arms, joyfully licking his face. Their reunion would be a happy one, but Grady knew there’d be a hole in his heart for a long time to come.
* * *
“I’M GLAD WE COULD FINALLY meet for lunch,” Ellie Frasier said, sliding into the booth at the bowling alley café.
Jane Dickinson smiled in welcome. She’d been waiting ten minutes, but she tended to be early, a habit her family had instilled in her. This lunch date was something she’d really looked forward to, although it had been difficult to arrange with both their schedules so busy.
But Dovie had encouraged Jane to meet Ellie, mentioning her in almost every conversation.
Jane had come to think of Dovie as a mentor and friend. Stopping to talk with her that first morning she’d gone for a jog had been one of the smartest things she’d done since moving to Promise. Unfortunately Dovie was still the only person in town she knew on a first-name basis. Despite her efforts to become part of the community, friendly gestures from the other residents of Promise were few and far between.
“So…Dovie thought it would be a good idea for the two of us to get to know each other,” Ellie said, reaching for the menu.
“I realize you’re getting married soon,” Jane said as a means of starting the conversation. “You must be terribly busy….”
Ellie nodded. “The wedding’s only a couple of weeks away.” A wistful look stole over her face.
Jane recognized that look—it was the look of a woman in love. Jane envied her happiness. After medical school and then working as an intern, followed by her residency at a huge public-health hospital in Los Angeles, there hadn’t been time in her life for anything other than medicine. Now she was trapped in Texas with only one friend and zero prospects for romance.
Ellie did little more than glance at the menu before she set it aside.
Jane had spent several minutes reading over the selections, but had failed to make a choice. “You know what you’re going to have?”
“I almost always order the chicken-fried steak.”
The thought of all those fat grams was enough to make Jane feel queasy. Even the salads listed on the menu were ones she normally avoided—coleslaw with mayonnaise dressing, for instance. Most of the food was battered and fried. Even the vegetables. Okra coated in cornmeal and cooked in a deep fryer. The same with tomatoes. It was a wonder anyone lived beyond twenty-five in this town. The eating habits here were probably the unhealthiest she’d seen in years. It was time the people of Promise caught up with the latest information on health and diet.
“The chicken-fried steak is great,” Ellie coaxed when Jane continued to study the menu.
The waitress arrived with her pad and pen. Ellie gave the woman her order, then chatted briefly while Jane reviewed her choices one last time.
“I’ll have a green salad with avocado if you’ve got it.”
The waitress—Denise, according to her name tag—wrote it down on her pad.
“With dressing on the side.”
Denise exchanged a scornful glance with Ellie before she called the order in to the kitchen. The woman’s reaction was typical of what Jane had encountered the past few weeks.
“What did I do that was so wrong?” Jane asked, leaning forward.
“First off, we Texans pride ourselves on our food.”
“The diet around here is appalling,” Jane blurted without thinking. “Everything is loaded with fat. Chicken-fried steak, barbecued meat, chili without beans—doesn’t anyone appreciate the high fiber content of kidney beans?”
“It’s exactly this attitude that’s causing your problems, Doc.”
“What attitude? All I’m trying to do is set better health standards for the community! It’s a wonder you aren’t all dead or dying.”
“And a wonder you haven’t been tarred and feathered,” Ellie snapped.
Jane’s mouth sagged open. She might have laughed if Ellie hadn’t looked so serious.
“You want to know why people are unfriendly?” Ellie asked. “Perhaps you should look at how you come across. Rude, superior and know-it-all! The only reason I agreed to talk to you is because of Dovie, who for reasons I don’t understand has taken a liking to you.”
The woman was spitting mad, and other than pointing out a few basic truths, Jane still didn’t know what she’d done that was so offensive.
“As far as everyone in this town is concerned, you can take your salad-eating wine-sipping butt and go back to California. We don’t need some surfer chick telling us what’s good for us, understand?”
Jane noted that the other customers had gone quiet. Several heads nodded in agreement. “I see,” she said, struggling to hold on to her composure. “But unfortunately I’ve signed a contract and I’m stuck here for three years. So if I’m going to live in this community—”
“Then I suggest you change your high-and-mighty ways.”
Swallowing her pride, Jane nodded. “I’m probably going to need a little help.”
“You need a lot of help.”
Jane decided to let that comment slide. “I’d appreciate a few words of advice.”
Ellie didn’t answer right away. “You sure you’re up to this?”
Jane smiled. As far as she could see, she didn’t have any choice. “Be gentle, all right?”
A smile cracked Ellie’s lips. “I’ll try.”
Jane sighed. They’d started off on the wrong foot, but she sensed Ellie could be an important ally, and she badly needed a friend her own age. Dovie was kind, but it would take more than the assistance of one woman to help her fit in.
“Denise.” Ellie waved her arm and called for the waitress. “Doc wants to change her order.”
“I do?”
“You said you’re willing to learn. Now’s your chance. Your initiation, if you like. First, I’ll teach you how to eat like a Texan. We can both diet tomorrow.”
Jane swallowed, then nodded. “What is it I want to order?”
Ellie motioned to the waitress. “The doc here will have the chicken-fried steak, fried okra and an extra scoop of gravy on her mashed potatoes.”
“All right,” Denise said with smiling approval, writing it on her pad. “Do you want a side salad with that?” she asked.
It would probably be the only healthy part of the entire meal. “Sure.” Jane was about to remind her to leave off the dressing, when Ellie added, “Put the dressing right on top of it, too, will you, Denise?”
The waitress grinned from ear to ear. “Not a problem.”
Jane decided then and there that either she’d adjust to life in Texas…or die trying.
* * *
MAGGIE GASPED AND BOLTED upright in bed, unsure for a moment where she was. Her skin felt clammy, and she was breathing fast. A moment later she realized it had only been a dream. She’d been in the town again, the one with the bad ghosts. Richard was in her dream, too. He was looking at her and his face kept getting wider and longer as if he were staring at her through a wavy mirror.
His voice boomed loud, too, and he kept telling her what would happen to her mother if Maggie told anyone where she’d been. Again and again she promised him she wouldn’t tell, and she hadn’t. Not anyone. Not even her dolls.
Kicking aside her blankets, Maggie stole out of the bedroom and sneaked down the hallway, guided by the night-light, to her mother’s bedroom. She stood and watched her mother sleeping, checking to make sure she was safe and no bad ghosts had gotten her.
“Maggie?” Her mother’s eyes fluttered open.
“I had a bad dream,” Maggie whispered.
Her mother tossed back the sheet, silently inviting Maggie into bed with her. Maggie was glad; it was a rare treat to sleep with her mommy. She climbed onto the bed and her mother wrapped an arm around her, then gently brushed the hair from her brow.
“Was it a very bad dream?” she asked.
“A scary one,” Maggie told her.
“Do you want to tell me about it?”
Maggie shook her head. She didn’t want to think about Richard ever again. She remembered that he didn’t know she’d taken the doll, and if he found out, he might send the bad ghosts after her. As soon as she could, Maggie had removed the doll from her backpack and hidden it inside a big tin in her closet. No one knew it was there. Not Mommy. Not Richard. Not anyone.
“You’re not frightened now, are you?”
Maggie shook her head, but it wasn’t true. “A little,” she confessed.
“Did I tell you Grady’s coming over tomorrow after church, and we’re going to the park for a picnic?”
Maggie’s spirits buoyed. “We are?” Usually they went out to the ranch and visited with Savannah and Laredo, too.
“Does that sound like fun?”
Maggie nodded eagerly. “Will Grady push me on the swing?”
“If you ask him.”
Maggie closed her eyes again and sighed deeply. “Grady’s not so bad. I’m sorry his dog died.” She’d liked Rocket.
She felt her mommy nod. “He’s going to miss him.”
“I’m going to miss him, too,” Maggie said. “Maybe we can make Grady feel better.”
“He doesn’t frighten you anymore?”
Maggie shook her head. “He does a little when he yells, but if I plug my ears I don’t really hear it.”
“He doesn’t mean to yell, it’s just…part of his nature.”
Maggie wasn’t entirely sure what that meant. But she knew that ever since the morning Grady found her running down the driveway and she saw his face light up with a smile, she’d liked him better. Until then, she’d never seen Grady smile, not a real smile, anyway. He’d hugged her again and again that day, and her mommy, too. Later he’d taken her into the barn and held her hand so she wouldn’t be afraid of Widowmaker and let her see the new colt.
Grady had reminded her that she had yet to choose a name for him. She’d chosen “Moonbeam,” and Grady said it was a pretty name. Wiley had teased him about it and said it sounded like one of those hippie names from the sixties—whatever that meant—but Grady had insisted Moonbeam was it. She’d chosen well.
“I think Grady’s special,” Maggie announced suddenly. She no longer felt any doubt. Richard had been fun at first, but he wasn’t a real friend.
“I do, too,” her mommy said softly.
Heart of Texas Series Volume 1: Lonesome CowboyTexas Two-StepCaroline's Child Page 49
