by Sharon Sala
Ryal glanced at her, eyeing the closed expression on her face. “I had forgotten all about you and Lincoln Fox.”
She shrugged, ignoring the pang of regret she always felt when she heard his name. “We were teenagers. It was a long time ago.”
“Your ex wasn’t a bad guy when you married him,” he added.
Meg shrugged. “No, but he was a weak one. The first time someone waved money under his nose, he caved. He was making meth in the back pasture just like his granddaddy used to make moonshine up in the hills, and when he began cheating his customers, he wound up killing one who dared to complain. Lord. Even divorcing him after he went to prison wasn’t enough to live that down.”
“Damn it, Meg, that’s on him, not you.”
“Yes, well, Mrs. White probably had a different opinion, God rest her soul. It was her son Wendell who Bobby killed.”
“Yeah, Wendell, the oldest of the three losers she gave birth to, and the druggie who spent his mama’s social security check on meth before she even got a chance to buy groceries. This sounds a little harsh, but if you ask me, your ex did her a favor.”
Meg knew she should be shocked, but the smirk on Ryal’s face made her smile.
“I guess there’s a case to be made there,” she said.
He nodded. “However, I do remember their financial situation had turned around before Wendell was killed. One day they’d been bordering on losing everything, and then suddenly they were fine. By the time Mrs. White passed, the place was a little showpiece...flowers in the yard, a new barn and even a small tractor. Then the property passed to Prince and Fagan, and it’s gone downhill ever since.”
“You’re good for my soul,” she said.
“Well, I don’t want to hear any more crap out of you about any shame falling on your shoulders. You did nothing wrong, so don’t go and turn yourself into some damn martyr, do you hear me?”
“Loud and clear, brother.”
“Good. And now you’re home,” he said, eyeing the number of cars in the yard. “Looks like the only ones who have yet to arrive are James and Julie.”
Meg pointed. “Oh, Lord. Here comes Mom, and she’s crying.”
“If this had just happened to Sarah, I’d be crying, too, so get over it,” Ryal said.
“Point taken,” she said, and opened the door.
“Hang on. You’re not getting out on your own, remember?”
She sighed. “Actually, I’d already forgotten.”
“You won’t forget when the pain meds wear out. Just hold your horses.”
Moments later she was enveloped in her mother’s teary hug before Ryal picked her up and carried her into the house. Dolly chastised her all the way inside for not telling them what had been happening. Before Meg could get in a word of explanation, Jake finished up the scolding by telling her that he and Dolly were staying there until she could walk on her own again, and they didn’t want to hear a word about it.
“I hear you, and I thank you,” Meg said, trying not to cry as Ryal put her down in the recliner and pulled out the footrest. As he did, the quilt that had been wrapped around her in the car slipped down to her waist.
Dolly took one look at the nightgown Meg was wearing and gasped.
“Oh, Lordy be, Margaret Ann, you actually went to the emergency room in your nightgown? What did people think?”
“Well, Mom, just be glad they didn’t have to take the nightgown off to treat me, because I’m not wearing anything under it, either.”
Dolly gasped as the rest of the family burst into laughter.
* * *
Quinn was back from Mount Sterling. He’d already fixed the lock on the back door and was outside hanging the first of the motion-sensitive security lights when Moses came bounding out of the woods with Mariah and Jake behind him. The dog saw Quinn on the ladder and began barking to signal their arrival. Quinn waved at the trackers, and then kept on working as the dog bounded up onto the porch and flopped down in the shade, his tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth, panting from the exertion.
Mariah and Jake stopped to talk.
“How did it go?” Quinn asked.
Mariah looked disappointed. “We lost the trail in the same place you did.”
Jake took off his cap and combed his fingers through his thick gray curls. “I found bike tracks right where you said they’d be. I’m thinking he had it stashed there for a getaway.”
“That’s what I thought, too,” Quinn said. “Regardless, I’m putting in some security here. If there’s a next time, I’m making sure Meg has light to aim by.”
“Are she and Ryal back?” Mariah asked.
“Yeah, she’s inside.”
“I’m going to go see her,” she said, and tied Moses up before going inside.
“Need any help?” Jake asked.
“I’m good,” Quinn said. “I helped set up communications in Iraq, so most of this is familiar territory.”
He kept on working, and when he was finished with the first light he gave Moses some water before moving the ladder to the front of the house. He installed another light on the front porch, and just as he was finishing up, the last Walker brother arrived.
James was alone, which meant Julie had been able to contact him before he’d gone back home. He got out on the run, without the jovial smile he usually wore. He looked as deadly as Quinn felt.
“What the hell happened to Meg?” he asked.
Quinn frowned. “Someone’s been stalking her. She’ll fill you in on all the details. Everyone else is inside.”
James bolted up the steps, letting the door slam behind him as he went inside, but not before Quinn got a whiff of chicken frying and corn bread baking in the oven. It was almost noon, and his mom was obviously on a mission. She couldn’t fix what had happened, but she knew how to feed the people who could, and she was hard at it.
He finished with the last outside light and then proceeded to install the alarm system inside the house, putting sensors on both the doors, so that once the alarm was set it would go off if either door was opened. If he could, he would have dug a moat around the house and installed a drawbridge, but this was the best he could do for the location they were in.
As Quinn headed for the bathroom to wash up, he saw the local sheriff’s car coming up the drive. Ryal, who was standing head to head with James, must have called him.
“Hey, Ryal, Sheriff Marlow just pulled up,” he said, pointing toward the door, and then kept on walking.
Ryal handed his daughter to James and went outside to greet the sheriff.
Marlow promptly shook Ryal’s hand as he came up the steps. “Good to see you, Ryal. Sorry it’s under such circumstances. How’s Meg?”
“She’s okay, no thanks to the man who broke into the house.”
“Is she up to giving a statement? I’ll need to talk to her to file the report.”
“Sure, come on in,” Ryal said, and led the way to the living room. “Hey, everybody, why don’t you go see if Mom needs any help? The sheriff needs to talk to Meg.”
They left the room as the sheriff chose a chair beside the recliner where Meg was sitting.
“You’ll have to ignore my clothing,” Meg said. “Mom is already horrified that I went to the emergency room in my nightgown, so when it dawns on her that I’m giving my statement to the authorities in the same condition, she won’t be happy with me.”
Marlow chuckled. “You’re just fine, Meg.” But the smile ended when he got down to business and took out his notepad. “So, talk to me. Ryal mentioned when he called that you’re being stalked, so start from the beginning.”
She nodded, then once again repeated her story, from the missing feed bucket to the squeaky floorboard in the kitchen and chasing him out with the rifle. At that point, Quinn returned.
“I’ll add a little note to the story,” he said. “I think one of Meg’s shots hit the target. I found blood on the trail, and I also think he had a dirt bike stashed up on the old Fox plac
e for a getaway.”
Meg looked startled. “Really? I hope the shot was in his ass.”
Her brothers grinned.
The sheriff chuckled. “You’re certainly a chip off the Walker block. Where is that glass vase he brought in with him?”
Ryal groaned. “Swept up and in the trash. Sorry.”
“So what happens now?” she asked.
“Since you couldn’t identify him and we don’t have any witnesses, there’s not a lot I can do, since the glass will be too compromised for prints. But the report will be filed, and that’s the first step. What I will do is notify medical clinics and hospitals in the area to let me know about any gunshot victims. If any of the patients live on Rebel Ridge, they’re gonna have some explaining to do.”
“So you think it’s someone local?” Ryal asked.
Marlow shrugged. “It makes sense that only a local would know Meg lives by herself now. Of course, that’s not an accusation, but it’s definitely a thought to consider.”
At that point Dolly came in, her face pink from the heat of the kitchen, and saw the sheriff.
“Hello, Mel. It’s good of you to come so quick.”
“Part of the job, Dolly. How’s new-married life treating you?”
She blushed. “Just fine, thank you. If you-all are through here, dinner is ready. Mel, you’re welcome to stay and eat. There’s plenty.”
Marlow reluctantly rejected the invitation. “It all smells really good, and I appreciate the offer, but I’d better get back down to Boone’s Gap and file this report.” He glanced down at Meg as he stood. “If there’s a next time, I expect you to call me first.”
“I will,” she said.
“I’ll walk you out,” Ryal said, and left the room with the sheriff.
Dolly eyed Meg’s attire but said nothing. “Honey, do you need to go to the bathroom before we eat?”
“Actually, I do,” Meg said. “And, Mama, if you’ll get me something clean to put on, I’d appreciate it. I’ve had about all I can stand of this bloody nightgown.”
Dolly headed to Meg’s bedroom with a relieved smile on her face.
Quinn scooped Meg up out of the recliner and carried her toward the bathroom.
“We need to get you a wheelchair,” he said.
Dolly heard him as she came back up the hall. “I think I know where we can borrow one. I’ll make a call after we eat.”
* * *
The day that had begun in such a traumatic fashion ended on a quiet note as Jake wheeled Meg to her bedroom in the borrowed wheelchair and then bade her good-night.
She thought about the nearly finished quilt on the frame but was too weary to seriously consider working on it. Instead she took out a couple of pain pills and reached for the glass of water on the bedside table. Her feet were hurting, but there was nothing to be done but get through this day by day.
She swallowed the pills, slid down beneath the covers and closed her eyes while listening to the murmur of voices beyond her door. She hated to admit it, but she would never have been able to relax without someone with her tonight. She fell asleep listening to crickets chirping outside her window and the sound of a coyote yipping somewhere on the ridge above the house.
* * *
His arm was infected and he was running a fever, but going to the doctor wasn’t happening. They would know immediately that it was a gunshot wound and would be bound by law to report it. He needed some medicine, but he was going to have to lie to get it. Luckily he knew right where to go. Aunt Tildy Bennett was the resident herb woman on Rebel Ridge, and she had all manner of ointments for all manner of conditions. She wasn’t really his aunt, but it was what everybody called her. He had a story all ready to explain away the injury and knew she would be none the wiser. When his brother left to work his marijuana patch, he got dressed and left the house.
A half hour later he pulled up in Tildy Bennett’s drive. He grabbed his cap just before the wind took it and made a dash toward the house. The only good thing about the cold day was that the wind felt good on his feverish face.
He knocked, then waited for her to come to the door. As soon as it opened, he quickly yanked off his cap and put on his best manners.
“Aunt Tildy. I’ve gone and hurt my arm on a piece of broken sucker rod, and it got infected. I was wondering if you’d take a look at it.”
The old woman’s eyes narrowed as she eyed the man on her porch. He had a terrible reputation, but it wasn’t in her nature to judge.
“Come inside out of the cold. I need to see it before I know what to do.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He stepped inside, then followed her to the kitchen.
“Just take off your coat and hang it there on the chair. You don’t need to take off your shirt all the way, just take your bad arm out of the sleeve,” she said.
He did as she asked and waited for her reaction.
Her eyes narrowed as she eyed the wound. “You say you hurt this on a piece of pipe?”
“Yes, ma’am. It was a thin piece of sucker rod.... The end of it was all broken and ragged, and, well...I admit...I was drunk as a skunk when it happened. I fell on it with all my weight. It gouged this big hunk outta my arm, and now I got myself into a fix, what with it getting infected and all.”
Aunt Tildy’s attention shifted to the wound. “You’re right. It is infected, but not to the blood-poisoning stage. Have you had a tetanus shot recently? If that pipe was rusty, you’ll likely get yourself a case of lockjaw. You can die from that.”
He was getting worried and then remembered the lie. It hadn’t really been a rusty pipe. It had been a hot bullet.
“Yes, ma’am, I’m good on that. Had one just last year when I got a fishhook cut out of my leg.”
Tildy turned to a cupboard and began shifting bottles and tins aside until she found what she was looking for, then got a pan of hot water and some antiseptic soap.
“This is likely gonna hurt,” she said, and began cleaning the wound with short rigorous swipes.
“Holy crap, excuse my language,” he said as tears sprang to his eyes. “That hurts.”
“I warned you,” Tildy said, and kept working.
A half hour later he was on his way out with a tea to brew for fever and a tin of ointment to put on the wound three times a day. He was twenty dollars lighter in the pocket, but it was all worth it as he got back in his truck and drove away.
* * *
The week passed without incident. Meg finished the quilt on the frame, added the binding around the edges, and got it and the four others ready to ship. After Jake took them down to Boone’s Gap to drop off with FedEx, she breathed a little easier. Without any pressing orders, she could take a little downtime.
Once word began to spread on Rebel Ridge about the attack on Meg Lewis, every widow woman in the area began sleeping with a loaded gun beside her bed. Despite the security system Quinn had installed at the house, Jake still worried about what might happen once they were gone. He solved the problem by giving her a dog.
Her name was Honey, a year-old hound with a light brown coat, who’d been born with a crippled paw. She had big brown eyes and long legs, but had yet to fill out to her adult weight. She would never be any use for tracking, but her bloodline was pure, and, as Jake claimed, she was as sweet as the name he’d given her.
For Meg and Honey, it was love at first sight. Meg thanked Jake profusely and immediately felt safer, knowing no one could sneak up on her again.
Having the motion-detector light go off every time a possum or a raccoon wandered through the yard was going to take some getting used to, but Honey would bark loud and long if a human approached, especially in the dark.
The real test would be when Jake and her mom finally left, but Meg was ready for her world to get back to normal, and once they took the stitches out tomorrow, she would be on her own.
* * *
It was just after dinner when they headed for the doctor’s office in Mount Sterling. Meg had the backs
eat to herself as Jake and Dolly manned the front, talking quietly to each other. She couldn’t help but notice the lilt in her mother’s voice and the joy in her laugh. Dolly was happy. Meg was happy for her but ready for them to leave. The honeymoon phase they were still in kept reminding Meg of what was missing in her own life, but as her mother was fond of saying, “this, too, shall pass.”
It felt good to be out of the house, and it was the time of year when the leaves were beginning to turn. The sun was shining, but there were days when there was a nip in the air, and today was one of them. When they reached Boone’s Gap, Jake pulled in at the gas station.
“I need to gas up. You ladies need anything?”
“Nothing for me, thanks,” Meg said.
“I think I’d like something cold to drink, but I’ll get it while you pump the gas,” Dolly said, and got out of the car, leaving Meg inside on her own.
Meg watched her mother enter the minimart and then leaned back, absently watching traffic come and go while thinking about the Storm at Sea quilt blocks she’d had to put aside. She was itching to piece them together.
She watched a woman come out with a baby on her hip and two kids following behind her. When the woman saw her and waved, Meg quickly waved back, but it was just another reminder of how behind she was on living life. No husband. No kids. No prospects. God. How pathetic could she get?
A pickup truck pulled up on the other side of the pumps. She saw the driver get out. Heard him speak to Jake and tease him about starting on his second marriage when neither of Jake’s sons had even begun a first. Jake laughed. Meg looked away.
All of a sudden someone knocked on the window behind her. She turned to see her ex-husband’s younger brother, Claude, smiling at her. As she rolled down the window, he leaned partway in, casually giving her the once-over.
“Hey, Meg. Just wanted to say hi and tell you how sorry we all were to hear what happened to you. You doin’ okay?”
Meg wasn’t crazy about any of her ex in-laws, but they’d never done her any harm and didn’t seem to hold a grudge against her for divorcing their kin.
