She didn’t look at him, but she could feel his eyes on her.
“If you’re talking about that invitation to stay at the ranch, it came from my boss. I was only following orders.” The windshield was going to need defrosting in addition to the scraping.
“It’s not the invitation,” Rusty said.
“Well, then?” No other vehicles were around her, so she turned to glance at him.
“You took my shirt off, didn’t you?” he finally said.
She turned her eyes back to the road ahead. She could feel the embarrassment crawl up her neck and warm her cheeks. She reached over and moved the heat knob to the defrost setting. She should have known the man was difficult after all that windshield business. No one scraped the full windshield.
“And you did it while I was unconscious,” the man added for emphasis, making it seem much worse than it was.
“It’s not what it sounds like,” Renee said as she turned onto the ramp leading to the freeway. “I was checking you for guns.”
“I don’t have a gun,” he said, taking the same tone she had over all the unnecessary scraping he had done.
“Well, how was I supposed to know that?” Renee looked over at him in exasperation. “You had a bullet in your shoulder. Only a fool doesn’t have a gun if they are going to be out there getting shot at.”
There was a little slickness to the asphalt. Renee was glad there wasn’t much traffic. Even that slow-moving pickup ahead of them wouldn’t be a problem.
Everything was quiet in the cab.
“I know you’re worried about weapons,” Rusty said then. “So I forgive you.”
She turned sharply to face him. “There’s nothing to forgive. The police dispatcher asked me to check. It was—ah—official.”
At that very moment, a burst of morning sun broke through the overcast sky above them and shone through the side window, bathing Rusty in all its glory. He’d managed to shave before leaving the hospital and he looked positively virtuous. She could hardly believe he was the same dangerous-looking man from last night. His black hair drooped softly over his forehead and the dark circles under his eyes had almost disappeared.
He turned to look at her and arched an eyebrow. “The police dispatcher asked you to take off my shirt?”
“I didn’t—” Renee stammered. She suddenly remembered she had opened up his shirt after she’d looked for a gun. And Betty hadn’t told her to unbutton anything. “I didn’t take it all of the way off.”
“That’s okay.” Rusty spread his fingers in a V, making the traditional peace gesture. “I already said I forgive you.”
“If you would just listen,” Renee said then, her temper giving her voice substance, “my only concern is that if you’re going to get shot, you should have a gun! You need to defend yourself. No reason to be target practice for someone. Or can’t you shoot a gun?”
Renee knew she was making no sense. She hadn’t wanted him to have a gun until she realized he was in danger.
“I can shoot,” he said grimly. The clouds returned and the sunlight around him fell away.
Renee should have known he’d be familiar with guns. He had been in the army, after all. Still, she’d been up half of the night thinking about what could have happened to him out there in the darkness with someone gunning for him. There were miles and miles of ranch land and only a few buildings in this part of Montana. He could have ridden around all night and not found a single inhabited house. If the man was going to take on a life of crime—and she suspected that was the case even though the sheriff hadn’t found any proof yet—he needed to approach it with some common sense.
“I guess you could always get one of those vests that the police wear,” she added when he didn’t say anything. “I don’t know where you buy them, but Sheriff Wall would know.”
Rusty turned and looked at her for some time. “You’re really worried about me, aren’t you?”
He sounded astonished.
“Just because I don’t want to see you dead doesn’t mean I care,” she snapped back at him in a not-so-nice way. Which made her feel bad.
“Look, I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ve been under a lot of strain lately.”
He held his hand up again with that ridiculous peace gesture. She wished he’d say something, but he just sat there.
Well, Renee told herself, this was turning into one uncomfortable drive.
She scrambled to find something else to talk about. “Did they feed you breakfast before they let you go?” His silence was making her feel rattled. She was only trying to show a little human compassion. He didn’t need to be so difficult.
The best way to treat this man, she decided, was to pretend he was nothing but another ranch hand. He was younger than most of the men Mr. Elkton had working for him these days and certainly better-looking, but he probably liked to eat as much as any of them. The truth was that some of the men could spend hours describing the perfect pancake. And then they’d start in on the different kinds of syrups they liked to have with their perfect pancakes.
“The nurse gave me a biscuit and some coffee,” Rusty said without enthusiasm. “Cream for the coffee.”
“Well, that’s not enough,” Renee protested congenially. In addition to talking about food, the ranch hands loved to complain about it. “You lost a lot of blood. They should have fried you some beef liver or something.”
“For breakfast?” he protested.
Renee nodded. “It’s got lots of iron. Beets do, too.”
“That doesn’t mean I want beets for breakfast.”
“Well, oatmeal, then—with raisins.”
By the time they finished talking about what kinds of food were appropriate for the breakfast of a man who had been wounded and half-frozen the night before, they were turning off the freeway and heading into Dry Creek.
There was more snow on the road now and Renee was glad all the Elkton pickups had four-wheel drive. She’d also chosen the one that had a back bench, so there was lots of room for Tessie’s booster seat. Her daughter didn’t officially need it anymore, but she’d only just turned five and she was small for her age.
“Don’t they ever change that sign instead of just repainting over the numbers?” Rusty scowled as he nodded his head toward the green metal sign that read Welcome to Dry Creek. “I think it said population one-oh-eight when I was here last. Now, eight years later, it’s population one-oh-two. The two looks funny.”
Renee loved that sign. In the spring, someone always planted gladiolus bulbs in the dirt beside it and the flowers bloomed in all kinds of colors for almost a month. It reminded Renee of English tea shops and elegant nurseries. Not that Dry Creek had either of those, but somehow, she told herself, they had the same spirit.
“Just because someone moves away is no reason to throw out a perfectly good sign,” Renee said as she took a firmer grip on the wheel and sat up straighter in the driver’s seat. “Don’t know why anyone would want to leave, but some do.”
“So you like it here?” he asked.
She glanced over, tempted to say it was none of his business, but he seemed interested.
“I never want to live anywhere else,” she said simply as she turned her attention back to the road. “I’m building a life for me and my daughter here. It’s where we belong.”
Rusty nodded. “She’s a good girl. Your daughter.”
Tessie was with Mrs. Hargrove this morning. Renee glanced over at him again. “Don’t pretend you know her—”
Just then Renee felt the pickup slide to the right. She’d hit a patch of ice when she wasn’t looking. She gripped the wheel tighter and started to twist it. She’d seen vehicles overturn on stretches like this. She felt a clutch of panic in her stomach.
What would Tessie do if something happened to her? She felt the fear slice through
her. Surely her ex-husband wouldn’t have custody of their daughter then. The simple divorce papers her husband had had one of his prison friends prepare—thinking to hurt Renee—had made only minimal mention of Tessie. But Renee had signed and decided she’d look into the situation about Tessie later. After all, her husband would be in prison for years, she’d told herself. They didn’t have to worry about him yet.
“Let it ease its way,” Rusty said as he reached over to put his left hand on the wheel, stopping her in midturn. “We’ll be fine.”
He gripped the wheel for a second and then loosened his hold.
Before Renee could protest, the slide was over and they were safely straightened out. She wasn’t sure what he had done, but it had worked.
“Thank you,” Renee said breathlessly. She knew an attorney who went to church in Dry Creek. She’d talk to him tomorrow. “I’m not used to driving when there’s ice.”
“You did fine,” Rusty said. “You just need to go with the slide and not fight it. You lose all control otherwise.”
She forced herself to take another breath.
It hadn’t occurred to her until then that Rusty had moved over in the seat until he was right next to her so he could grab the wheel. She could feel his breath on her neck. The air was cold and she remembered she’d turned the heat down. She was going to reach for the knob and turn the heat back on, but her hands felt glued to the wheel.
Rusty put his hand on her shoulder. “You can pull off the road if you need to. It doesn’t make sense to drive when you’ve had a scare like that.”
He looked out the window. “There’s a pull-off right there.”
“That’s the drive to the Enger place,” Renee said, her teeth starting to chatter, whether from the cold or her sudden burst of nerves she didn’t know. “It’s not a pull-off.”
“Well, it will work,” Rusty insisted, his voice soothing.
Renee decided it couldn’t hurt to take a minute to collect herself. She turned the wheel and drove into the turning lane for the crossroad. No one was driving down the lane this week anyway—Linda and Duane Enger had taken a trip to Hawaii. Duane was putting on a guitar workshop there and Linda had found someone to work in the café for her. They planned to spend a few days at the ocean. Renee took a moment to picture herself sitting next to them on a beach somewhere, thinking that might calm her. It didn’t.
So she put the vehicle in Park.
“I’m going to leave the heater on,” she informed him.
“Are you chilly?” Rusty asked and put his good arm around her shoulders, as if that was the answer to everything.
“I’m fine,” Renee managed to mumble even as she had to admit to herself that his gesture did warm her up faster than the heater ever could.
“You’re experiencing a little bit of shock,” Rusty said. “I’ve seen it many times in battle.”
“You have?” Somehow his arm didn’t make her feel as comforted now that she knew it was a battleground exercise for him and not a sign of—she stumbled even in her thoughts—friendly support. Yes, that was what she wanted. Friendly support. From a stranger.
She turned away, reaching toward the steering wheel. “I suppose we might as well be going.”
“If you say so,” Rusty said and then she felt him touch her on the back of her neck. At least, she thought he did. It was such a light brushing of his thumb across her skin that, by the time it was over, she wasn’t sure if it had ever happened.
“Oh.” She turned automatically.
By then the man had scooted away from her and was on the other side of the seat, looking straight ahead. She could tell by his posture that he thought he’d crossed some line.
“Did you do that to all of your troops?” she asked a little indignantly.
He looked back at her and grinned. “Do what?”
“Run your thumb across their necks.”
The twinkle in his eyes made her catch her breath.
She found herself smiling. One minute he was this dangerous-looking army man and the next his eyes were as mischievous as a boy’s.
She just shook her head as she put the pickup into Drive and started into Dry Creek. The snow hadn’t stopped people from coming into the small town today. Even though the owner, Linda, was on vacation, the café was open and several pickups were parked in front of it. A sign on the café announced a sausage-and-biscuit special.
On the other side of the snow-packed street, the large window in the front of the hardware store was lined with frost. Renee could see through it to where several of the older men of the area were sitting around the potbellied stove drinking their usual morning coffee.
“They look like they’re arguing,” Rusty observed as he stared out his window. “I always remember the men sitting there disagreeing on something or other.”
“They’re probably discussing who’s going to be King Herod in the pageant,” Renee said with a smile. “One of them has to volunteer.”
“Cowards,” Rusty muttered mildly.
“They all think Charlie should do it,” Renee admitted. “But he says the king is bad even by heathen standards. He’s afraid none of the children will look at him the same if he plays such a wicked character.”
“Herod is probably just misunderstood.” Rusty looked at her with a grin.
“He tried to kill the baby Jesus!”
“Oh.”
They were silent then. After his remark about the welcome sign, Renee watched to see if his full attention was on the street as they drove. It took heart to appreciate a place like Dry Creek. The man’s focus never wavered, though. Finally, she decided he missed the place. For some reason, that gave her a good deal of satisfaction. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as that cat-loving gangster after all.
“The nativity practice is at the old Elkton barn on the other side of town,” Renee said. “I don’t know if you remember the place.”
He nodded. “No one was using it when I was a boy, but I’d go inside sometimes to admire the construction of the loft.”
She looked at him. “I heard it was the old make-out place for the high school kids. Before it was given to the town, of course.”
“Maybe, but I went for the architecture,” he answered smoothly. “Even back then, no one was making barns like that.”
He didn’t manage to look her in the eye, but she let it go.
When she turned, Renee saw the snow-covered barn come into view on the left side of the road. The pastor’s wife, Glory Curtis, had spearheaded an effort to paint a historical mural on the structure some years ago and it was spectacular, with its wheat fields and pioneers in wagons.
“They do the nativity pageant there every year now so they can use real animals,” Renee said, feeling pride even though it had started before she lived in the area.
“Like the donkey Eric claims to have,” Rusty said.
“And sheep,” Renee added. “The shepherd boys use their dogs for practice, but on the night of the performance there will be a few sheep.”
“I could bring Dog.”
“He’d scare the shepherds. The angels, too.”
Rusty shrugged. “So everyone will be at the practice?”
“Eric and Karyn should be there, if that’s what you want to know.” Renee answered his unspoken question. “Although the younger kids will be the main focus.”
“Like Tessie?”
Renee nodded. “Mrs. Hargrove will bring her.”
Then she continued, “Remember, you can’t act like a prince when you talk to Tessie. Don’t be too nice. You’re supposed to convince her you don’t have any fairy-tale qualities.”
“I expect she’ll see that right away.”
Renee didn’t say anything. She hoped her daughter was smart enough to understand this man wasn’t a prince. I
f she could manage that one small thing, it would be the first step in getting a better picture of her father.
Renee parked in front of the barn and turned around to pull a large bag of bathrobes out of the backseat. She was in charge of the costumes, and the pageant workers had traditionally relied on local people to donate their used clothing. Some women bought new white cotton robes each fall just so they could give their old ones to the angels. The men generally bought brown or gray robes, so a simple cord could turn the boys into rough shepherds.
By the time Renee faced her door, she saw that Rusty was already standing there with his left hand on the outside door handle, waiting to help her exit the vehicle.
“At your service, m’lady,” he said as he opened the door and offered his hand.
She scowled at him. “I don’t think a prince says m’lady. He’d be above titles.”
“I just didn’t want you to think I couldn’t be a polite prince if need be,” he said, his voice soft and intimate.
“Very funny.” She let him carry the bag of robes into the barn.
Guilt overcame her by the time they stepped inside and she insisted on being the one to take everything over to where Mrs. Hargrove stood. The man should not be carrying things around with one arm in a sling, she told herself.
Besides, she admitted, she didn’t want to start any rumors about herself and the strange man who’d been shot last night. She knew that story would have gone all around town by now, so she and Rusty couldn’t afford to look as if they were together.
In her quest to show indifference, Renee decided to ignore Rusty as she walked over to a few bales of hay where Mrs. Hargrove was sitting and started talking to her. The older woman had very definite opinions about which robes should go with which roles in the pageant and Renee was grateful for every one of her suggestions. Then the woman picked up a large silk bathrobe in a deep purple.
“That’s perfect for King Herod, if we can ever find a man willing to play the part,” Mrs. Hargrove said. “I know someone donates a fancy bathrobe every year just to keep us guessing who it is, but this time they brought the right thing. I can just see our Herod standing in this and trying to trick the wise men.”
White Christmas in Dry Creek Page 5
