Riding Shotgun

by Joanna Wayne

  She was lonely, frightened, discouraged, sometimes downright angry that life wouldn’t give her a break. She’d done the right thing. Persevered on the side of justice. Cooperated with the authorities.

  Didn’t she deserve a chance at happiness or at least not to live in constant fear that her ex-husband would find a way to exact revenge?

  A weariness settled in her bones and her eyelids grew heavy. It was too early to stop for the night, still a good hour left before sundown.

  She lowered the window so that the cool air could slap her in the face and hopefully ward off the fatigue. The air had an unfamiliar fragrance. Perhaps hay, she thought, as she spotted rolls of it in the fenced pasture to her left. Cows grazed in one section, several horses roamed another.

  A strand of towering pines was to the right of the car, interspersed with oaks, junipers, sycamores and a few trees she didn’t recognize. Scattered leaves clung to the nearly bare branches. Blackbirds gathered on telephone wires. A dog barked in the distance.

  She’d never intended to drive south when she’d fled Tennessee. She’d started driving northwest, but winter storms had altered her travel plans. Desperate to put distance between herself and the man who’d snapped her picture in the library, she’d loaded her car and escaped in the middle of the night. Texas had never been in her plans, but here she was, deep in the heart of the Lone Star State, traversing countryside that seemed miles from civilization. But that was only an illusion.

  She’d seen the sign and bypassed the small, rural town of Winding Creek less than ten minutes ago. San Antonio was somewhere to the southeast of her. Mexico was due south.

  She planned to meander west, get her head on straight and settle her nerves before she made any permanent decision.

  Her foot eased on the accelerator and she faded into her thoughts and into a time back before she’d known fear. A time when she’d had friends and her grandparents were still alive. A time when she’d had dreams. A time when she’d slept without nightmares.

  Her car began to shake, the jolts yanking her back to attention. Her right tires had left the shoulder. Her grip on the wheel tightened as she fought to get the car back on the road. Once steadied, she realized how close she’d come to veering off the side of a narrow bridge.

  She could have killed herself. Crazy when she was pushing so hard because she wanted to stay alive.

  She had to stop, take a walk, or maybe a brief nap. Spotting a dirt road up ahead, she slowed to see if it was a driveway or some type of ranch road. It looked more like a road to nowhere.

  Only one way to find out. She turned right. The road was half-washed-out with deep holes and ruts so numerous they were impossible to avoid completely. The land on both sides of the road was fenced and heavily wooded.

  After about five minutes, she reached a point where she didn’t dare go farther for fear of getting stuck. She opened the door and stepped out. She felt totally isolated, as if she’d driven off the end of civilization.

  The quietness was broken only by squawking crows and the inharmonious cadence of what must be hundreds of katydids and tree frogs. A huge blue lizard rested lazily atop a weathered fence post.

  Perhaps a walk would do more to get her blood pumping than a nap. Grabbing her bright yellow cardigan, she tossed it over her shoulder.

  The weather forecast was for rain and a cold front moving in tonight, but apparently the words cold front had a different meaning here than they did in Tennessee. It was supposed to dip into the low forties tonight.

  Locking the nondescript compact car she’d traded down for from a used car dealer in Nashville, she made her way down the bumpy road, careful to avoid tripping.

  The scenery changed gradually, the woods thinning and then giving way to wide-open pastures. Clusters of cattle dotted the pastoral landscape, most grazing. At one point there were several near the fence line, much larger than they’d seemed from a distance.

  Grace loved horseback riding, but had never been on a real ranch before. She didn’t favor the idea of being up close and personal with a cow, especially one of those Texas longhorns she’d spotted over the past two days.

  The path, or what was left of it, veered right and began to climb. Grace topped a low hill and then stopped to breathe in a few gulps of the clean-smelling air. She could hear the rush of water in the distance, perhaps the river that flowed beneath the bridge she’d almost crashed into.

  She used her hand to shield her eyes from the glare of the late-afternoon sun as she scanned for sight of the river. She didn’t see it, but surprisingly she spotted a white clapboard house right there in the middle of nowhere.

  It sprawled out in all directions, its dark green shutters and front door making it appear almost like an extension of the land. The place looked so homey, so welcoming, Grace felt a twinge in her heart.

  She imagined a family inside, the mother at the range preparing dinner or perhaps helping the kids with homework around a wide kitchen table. The man, tired from a day in the fields, watching the evening news. The setting cozy. Loving.

  A life Grace would never have.

  She turned to leave. A wailing noise stopped her. An animal? The screech of a bird? Surely cows didn’t make that sound.

  She heard it again. What if it wasn’t an animal? What if someone needed help? There was no way Grace could leave without checking.

  Her concern for herself taking a backseat, Grace carefully maneuvered herself through the barbwire and into the pasture, praying she wouldn’t confront a cow or, worse, a bull. Adrenaline pulsed through her veins as she raced toward the sound.

  As she got closer, the sound became more distinct. Definitely human. A child or a woman. And it was coming from the vicinity of the house.

  * * *

  ESTHER BIT BACK tears and whispered a prayer for help. She tried to stand again, pushing herself up from the hard dry earth. Pain shot through her leg, even worse than before. She fell back to a sitting position.

  The right ankle was beet red and already swelling.

  It was her own fault. Trying to save herself a trip, she’d tried to fetch too much firewood at once. She would have made it, though, if she hadn’t stepped in a hole some darn critter had dug right there by the woodpile.

  Her ankle had twisted, the heavy load had thrown her off balance and she’d toppled like a tower of kids’ blocks.

  Her fault, but how was she to know that hauling firewood was so tricky? Charlie had done all the hauling for their entire married life.

  Salty tears began to roll down her cheeks—not all from the pain in her ankle. She missed Charlie. The house was too quiet without him, her life too lonely.

  Feeling sorry for herself wasn’t going to solve anything. Staying outside with the forecast of rain and a cold front coming in was unthinkable. Not to mention that the gnats and mosquitoes would eat her alive.

  She’d just have to suck up the pain and drag herself to the back door and into the house. She wiped the tears from her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt.

  But just in case her hired wrangler, Buck Stalling, hadn’t already left for the day, she’d yell one last time.

  “Help! Helllp!”

  “I’m coming. Hold on. I’m coming.”

  Esther almost jumped out of her skin. That was a woman’s voice, unfamiliar. She wasn’t expecting company and she hadn’t heard a car drive up.

  Maybe she was just imagining things. A sad state of affairs that would be.

  “Where are you?”

  Definitely a voice. “I’m around back,” she called.

  A young woman she’d never seen before appeared from around the side of the house. When she spotted Esther, she hurried over.

  “Are you hurt? What happened?”

  The fierce panic she’d been feeling melted away like a snowball in
a sweaty hand.

  “I was fetching a heavy load of firewood. Couldn’t see where I was walking and stepped in a hole.”

  The stranger kneeled beside Esther and lightly touched the spot that radiated pain. “Looks like you sprained your ankle. Is that where it hurts?”

  “It is. Smarts right bad,” Esther said.

  “I’m sure. How long have you been out here?”

  “Seems like hours but probably only twenty minutes or so.”

  “We need to get you inside and get some ice on the ankle to slow down the swelling.”

  “I’m for that.” Esther studied the woman, still puzzled by her just showing up out of nowhere. “I’m mighty glad to see you, but who are you and where did you come from? I didn’t hear a car drive up.”

  “I was on the dirt road that borders your ranch and I heard your calls for help.”

  “That old logging road. Nobody uses that anymore except teenagers riding those racket-making ATVs or else looking for a place to make out. What were you doing there?”

  “I was just passing through the area and got too sleepy to keep going. I got out of the car before the road got too bad and took a walk to get the kinks out of my neck and shoulders.”

  “And you heard me from the logging road? That’s ’bout nigh a miracle.”

  “I barely heard you. At first I thought it was an animal in distress. Luckily, I decided to check it out.”

  “Luckier for me, and that’s a fact. I s’pect those prayers I was saying did some good.”

  “Couldn’t have hurt.”

  “What’s your name?” Esther asked.

  “Grace...” She bit her bottom lip as if she’d just uttered a curse word she wished she could take back. She hesitated. “Grace Addison.”

  “That fits,” Esther said. “I needed me some grace today and you showed up.”

  “Timing is everything,” Grace agreed.

  “I’m Esther. Esther Kavanaugh. Been living here on the Double K Ranch for years and don’t remember ever just tripping, falling and not being able to get up.”

  “It can happen to anyone. Let’s get you inside, and then we can chat.”

  “I don’t know how a little thing like you is gonna help me inside. I’m twice your size.”

  “That’s a major exaggeration, but an additional person for support might make it less painful for you. Were you calling for your husband? If he’s around, perhaps I can find him.”

  Esther shook her head. “Charlie’s dead. If he was alive, I wouldn’t have been out here in the first place. He took care of me and I took care of him. That’s how it always was.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Esther struggled to steady the grief that had snuck into her voice. “Not your fault. It’s somebody’s, just not yours.”

  “Who were you calling for?” Grace asked.

  “My hired help, but if he were still at the ranch, he’d have heard me yelling before now.”

  “Then looks like you’ll have to trust me to get you inside. Believe me, I’m stronger than I look. But if it hurts too much even with my help, I’ll call 9-1-1.”

  “Don’t want no part of that. All those medical people know to do with people my age is take us to the hospital. Then they want to charge us for nothing.”

  “Then lean against me and try to keep your weight off the right foot while I help you up.” Grace took Esther’s arm and helped her to a standing position. “Nice and easy. Let me know if the pain seems unbearable.”

  Esther did as she was told. Thankfully, her Good Samaritan had told the truth. She was a lot stronger than she looked. Esther hobbled along with Grace’s help.

  “We need to take the steps slowly,” Grace said as they reached the back door to the house. “Hold on to the railing with your free hand to help you stay balanced.”

  Following Grace’s advice, Esther took the three back steps with a lot less pain than she’d feared. Nothing seemed quite as scary since Grace had appeared. Of course, once they were inside, Grace would be on her way and Esther would be alone again.

  Always alone without Charlie. Someday someone would pay for that. Esther wouldn’t rest until justice was done.

  But right now she was just grateful for Grace.

  Chapter Four

  By all rights, Grace should be a nervous wreck at this point. She’d made a major faux pas in the backyard. She hadn’t given anyone her real last name in the six years she’d been on the run. Thankfully, she’d caught herself in time to use the last name that was on her latest fake ID.

  It was the unexpected nature of the encounter with Esther. Normally, she planned her life carefully, taking no chances with strangers.

  In spite of that, Grace felt at ease. Esther was so sweet and unassuming, her house so cozy, it was impossible not to feel at home with her.

  Esther was resting at least semicomfortably now, reclined on the sofa in the loose-fitting cotton robe Grace had helped her change into. Her leg was propped on multiple pillows, her ankle iced and a clean compression wrap from Esther’s first aid kit in place.

  “Are you a nurse?” Esther asked.

  “No, but I’ve had experience with sprained ankles, usually my own. But if this is not a lot better by morning, you should see a doctor and have it x-rayed.”

  “It can’t help but be better the way you’re pampering me.”

  “I’m just doing what anyone would do.” Grace tucked an available afghan around Esther’s legs. “Do you have some pain relievers in the house?”

  “I have some ibuprofen I use when the arthritis starts acting up.”

  “It wouldn’t hurt to take that. Where would I find it?”

  “In the kitchen cabinet next to the sink and above the counter.”

  “I’ll get it,” Grace offered. “Would you like anything else, perhaps a cup of tea?”

  “Nothing yet, but you help yourself to anything you see in there that you want. There’s homemade chocolate chip cookies in the cookie jar and sweet tea in the refrigerator.”

  “Thanks, but I had a late lunch.” Chips and a soft drink, if you could call that lunch.

  Alone in the kitchen, Grace took a few seconds to absorb her surroundings. The kitchen, like the rest of the house, had a cozy, lived-in feel. A red teakettle sat on the back burner of a freestanding gas range. An electric coffeepot was on the counter next to a chicken-shaped sugar bowl and a basket of unshelled pecans.

  A breakfast nook with a view of a pumpkin patch held a round oak table and four captain’s chairs topped with blue-and-white-checked cushions.

  A sky blue fruit bowl filled with apples, oranges and bananas rested in the middle of the table. The fruit was too tempting to resist. Since Esther had offered, Grace washed her hands at the kitchen sink and helped herself to a banana.

  Everything was much as Grace had imagined it when she’d first seen the house from the logging road except that there were no children, no husband, no food simmering on the range. Yet Grace was almost certain the house had once known laughter and great love.

  And now she was fantasizing, relying on her own needs to dictate the unknown.

  She took a bite of the banana and checked the refrigerator to see if there was something a lousy cook like herself could prepare for Esther’s supper. Bacon, eggs and sandwich fixings were plentiful, but that was about it.

  The freezer told a different tale. One shelf was filled with serving-size packages of food, all neatly labeled. Soups, meatloaf, chicken and dumplings, casseroles.

  Another shelf held sealed plastic bags filled with frozen vegetables. Butter beans, several kinds of peas, corn, carrots and okra, to name a few. Definitely no shortage of food choices.

  Satisfied Esther wouldn’t starve, Grace quickly went about the business at hand. She fi
nished her banana and retrieved the bottle of pills. She shook out two into her hand and filled a glass with ice water before hurrying back to the large family room.

  Esther raised up on her elbows, took the meds and almost finished the glass of water.

  “You’ve done enough waiting on me for now,” Esther said. “I’d appreciate if you could stay awhile, but you’d best go get your car before it gets dark.”

  “Good idea,” Grace agreed. “And then I’ll come back and warm up something for your dinner.”

  “For my supper,” Esther said. “That’s what Charlie always called it. He liked his big meal at lunch and something light at night.”

  “Then I’ll fix your supper,” Grace said. “Are you sure you’ll be all right while I’m gone?”

  “I’m not getting off this sofa. But you can’t go traipsing across that pasture and climbing through barbwire again,” Esther announced. “You could get hurt.”

  “I’ll be careful.” Though she wasn’t looking forward to the possibility of meeting a bull head-on.

  “Fiddle-faddle. Hand me the phone. I’ll call Buck. Much as I have to pay that boy to do a few chores, won’t hurt him to do me a favor.”

  Which bought up a more important subject. Grace handed her the phone. “Speaking of favors, is there someone you can call to stay with you tonight?”

  “Don’t need ’em. I can hobble the few steps to the bathroom when the urge hits and to the kitchen to get fresh ice when I need it. Rest of the time, I may just sleep right here on the sofa.”

  “You are a very independent woman, Esther Kavanaugh.”

  “When you’re alone, you have to be.”

  Grace knew that all too well. Still, she didn’t feel good about leaving Esther alone tonight.

  Esther made the call to Buck and then turned back to Grace. “His mom says he’s in the shower, but she’ll send him over as soon as he’s dressed.”

  “Perhaps either Buck or his mother could stay with you tonight,” Grace suggested.