Almost Home

by Caroline Clemmons

  Anna gasped.

  Vince stopped and stared. "Wowzer!"

  They stood on the edge of a bluff overlooking the Brazos River, high above a lazy S-shaped turn in the water. Across the river a gentle hill rose almost as high as the one on which they stood.

  Jeff pointed below them where, on their side of the river, a broad meadow gave way to trees as it gently climbed another hill to their left. “That must be the meadow the owner said is where deer come to feed early in the morning and late in the day.”

  Anna couldn’t believe it. Behind them lay the rolling prairie over which they had come, yet a far different landscape greeted them as they gazed at the river.

  "This is it," said Vince.

  Anna looked at her brother’s face. His excitement bubbled up out of control. The shrewd cunning that had won so many courtroom battles disappeared, to be replaced by the joy of a child at Christmas.

  "This is exactly what I want,” he said and looked ready to dance with joy. “This is where I want to build my house." He pointed at the ground by his feet. “Right here.”

  "It's gorgeous. I didn't know there was anything like this around here " Anna's eyes were wide with wonder as she and Vince walked to the edge of the bluff. "Um, Vince, how can you be sure this won’t wash down to the river in a rainstorm? Think mudslide."

  Jeff scuffed his foot against the ground. “Two feet of soil over solid rock.”

  Vince glared at her. “The architect will deal with all that.”

  "This has a little more land than you wanted, but I felt certain this was what you had in mind. There are about a hundred and a twenty acres here. The family who owns it is breaking up the land to settle the estate. They’re keeping over two hundred acres south."

  The realtor turned and pointed north. “That neighbor also has about two hundred acres, so you wouldn’t be bothered by noise from either side.

  "That's probably not too much land.” Vince peered at the meadow below by the river, then back to where the Suburban waited. “If we can work out a satisfactory contract, this is the property I want."

  “What will you do with all this?” she asked.

  “I might run a few cattle, become a part-time rancher.”

  Anna raised her eyebrows and asked, “You? A rancher? Does Armani make cowboy clothes now?”

  Vince stuffed his hands in his pockets and sent her another glare.

  She indicated across the river. “Look at those.”

  “Yeah, I noticed.” He spoke to Jeff. "The only disadvantages I see are those three mobile homes and storage buildings across the river.”

  Two large dogs ran free, yapping at a boat that motored along the river. From where she and Vince stood, the motor’s noise was an insignificant putt-putt.

  Jeff said, “Those buildings are far enough away that I don't think the noise of rowdy kids or barking dogs will be a problem. You can barely hear the dogs. Don’t see any swings or toys over there to indicate children.”

  He focused on Vince. “Look around a bit. I warn you, though, this property won’t last long.” He stepped away, ostensibly to give them time to talk it over.

  She muttered, “Those look like a drug lab to me.”

  “Noticed. At least this is far enough away I won’t be hit by the explosion’s debris.”

  “Great attitude, Mr. Attorney. At. Law.”

  Vince muttered something under his breath and turned toward Jeff.

  She grabbed his arm. “Don’t let him rush you. This is too important. Be sure.”

  “Believe me, I am.” He stepped over to join Jeff.

  Jeff scrubbed his hands together. “So, you want to make an offer on this place?”

  “You bet.” Vince looked back at the Suburban and the road beyond. "That's provided, of course, that I could find my way out here again. What’s the distance to the downtown square."

  Jeff reassured him, "We can time the drive back into Cartersville, but I think you can get from here to your office in under twenty minutes."

  Vince nodded. “All right, let’s do it.”

  Anna saw the speculation in his eyes and knew that in his mind he already pictured the house he’d build.

  As if to prove her right, he said, “House should have walls of glass overlooking the river. I could slant it to hide from those trailers across the way.”

  A shiver snaked down her spine. There was that goose walking over her grave. Second time in one day. Those mobile homes gave her the creeps.

  Chapter Ten

  The Dixon clan gathered at the home of Lamar and Katharine, Link's parents, for a Sunday evening get together. Link's four sisters—Beth, Kathy, Gwen Phifer and Fran Gamble— and Maggie helped his mother prepare what appeared enough food for an army. When he looked around, he thought that might be about right. The dining table was set for sixteen, plus the kids' table in the kitchen. He figured Uncle Finis and Aunt Sue must be coming, but didn't know who the other extra places were for.

  The phone rang, and Link tensed. In Dallas, a phone call often meant canceling plans. He relaxed. Bottom of the totem pole deputies didn’t get tracked down on Sunday afternoon in Cartersville.

  His mother answered. But her facial expression broadcast the fact that the call brought disturbing news. She hung up and hurried over to Link.

  "That was your Aunt Sue. Bubba hasn't come home and she doesn't know where he is. She wants you to go find him, make sure he's okay, and bring him here for dinner."

  Link said, "I thought Bubba was in the Marines."

  "He was discharged and came home last week. He’s looking for a job. He has an interview at eight in the morning."

  "Mom, he's a grown man.”

  His mother's eyes pleaded with him to do something. Hell, he knew this meant trouble.

  He protested, “I’m not his keeper.”

  She just stood there, giving him the look.

  How did mothers learn that? How old did sons have to be before it lost its effect? "What am I supposed to do?"

  He heard her answering sigh of relief. "Sue said Virgil Lee called Bubba right after lunch. She thinks they might have met up somewhere. She's afraid they'll get drunk and the hangover will ruin Bubba’s chances at his job interview tomorrow."

  Link looked around the crowded family room. His father and Link’s brother-in-law Robert Gamble were locked in a chess game. His brother-in-law Forrest Phifer caught his eye and ambled over. Forrest would be Link’s first choice for this job anyway. The tall, quiet man was dependable and quick thinking. And fun.

  "Need some company?" Forrest asked and pushed a hand over his brown hair.

  "Lord, yes. A sane head is always welcome when you're dealing with crazies like Bubba and Virgil Lee."

  The two took Link's Jeep. Forrest suggested they start at Wally's Bar and Grill on the edge of town. Annoyed as Link was at their errand, it felt good to be out with Forrest again. They’d been friends since grade school, and Link had been a happy man when his sister Gwen and Forrest had wed.

  Link hadn’t been to Wally’s since college. Wally’s parking lot was crowded, mostly with pickup trucks and motorcycles. “This place never changes. Still as seedy inside?”

  “More,” Forrest said. “Hasn’t been painted that I know of. I do Wally’s taxes, and the place is a mint.”

  Link said, “There’s Bubba’s battered old truck covered with that stupid camouflage paint.”

  “Reckon deer are fooled by that pattern?” Forrest asked.

  Link laughed. “Must not be. Can’t remember Bubba ever bagging a deer. He’s gotta be a good shot after all that Marine training.”

  “Beer improve his aim?”

  “Probably not. Explains a lot, though, doesn’t it?”

  They stopped just inside the room while Link peered through the thick haze of smoke to search for his two rebel kin.

  "There they are, in the corner past the billiard table," he said.

  Forrest said, "Damn, look at the beer bottles lined up in front of
them."

  On Sundays, Wally's couldn't serve liquor until after twelve noon. Link checked the time on the big Coors clock over the bar. Half past five. If Virgil Lee and Bubba started early this afternoon, they'd had plenty of time to get truly snockered.

  Link had already seen more of Virgil Lee than he cared to, but it appeared he’d have to confront him again. "Hell, why did Bubba have to hook up with Virgil Lee right off the bat?"

  "Birds of a feather and all that.” Forrest said.

  “At least Bubba’s not a mean drunk like Virgil Lee.”

  Forrest glanced around the room, his brown eyes wary. “He’s the only one. Crowd doesn’t look too friendly. Glad I’m with the guy who has a gun.”

  Link snorted. "As if I'm the only one in this crowd who's carrying. More likely you’re the only one who’s not. Let’s keep it low key if we can. I don't want to do the deputy sheriff bit unless it looks like we have a fight on our hands."

  "You bet. Gwen would hate it if I got this gorgeous mug messed up. You got a plan?" Forrest asked.

  "Not even the start of one. Virgil Lee's probably still mad at me for arresting him a few days ago."

  Forrest chuckled. "Big Momma's probably madder.”

  “Now that’s the truth. How she manages to get Virgil Lee out of jail and all charges dropped is more than I can figure. It’s like we’re in the back woods a hundred years ago or something.”

  “Bet she knows where the bodies are buried. That woman scares me spitless."

  Link chuckled. "Isn't that the truth? Woman's three husbands probably chose death to escape her."

  “And how would you like to marry a widow and have her keep her first husband’s name?”

  “Would make me mad as hell. She says it makes family less confusing.”

  Forrest said, "Wouldn't surprise me if she did them in because they backtalked her. I tell you, I wonder how Virgil Lee gets away with all he does with that woman on his case."

  That was a mystery to Link as well. Big Momma Patterson stood six feet and weighed at least three hundred pounds. He figured most people tried to avoid her. He sure as hell did.

  With a glance at the crowd, Link said, "Well, let's do this and get it over with in time for Mom's pot roast."

  They walked over to the corner booth.

  Link said, "Hello, boys. Heard you were back in town, Bubba. How're things going here?"

  "We're havin’ a little celebration. I'm back now." Bubba's slurred speech put him several drinks past driving. Or cognizance. He apparently tried to gesture toward the lined up bottles, but knocked several over with his effort. “We’re havin’ a contest, see?”

  Forrest smiled. "Yeah, I see you’ve been working at it a long time.”

  “You boys ride here together?" Link asked.

  "We come in Bubba's truck," Virgil Lee said. "What of it?"

  Though he could drink huge quantities without appearing drunk, alcohol turned Virgil rattlesnake mean. Apparently it turned Bubba into Amazing Rubber Man. He could hardly hold up his head and sprawled all over his side of the booth.

  "Bubba, Aunt Sue’s worried about you. Why don't we take you boys home?"

  "Okay," Bubba said and tried to slide out of the bench seat. He fell onto the table, knocking over several empty bottles. His drooping eyes widened and he called, "My God, help me. Some bastard stole my legs. Can't stand up."

  "Let me help you." Forrest grabbed Bubba’s arm and pulled him out of the booth. Bubba's legs apparently refused to support him. He would have fallen if Forrest and Link hadn't caught him.

  Bubba leaned his head back, as if trying to bring Forrest into focus. "Who're you?"

  "Forrest Phifer. Remember, I'm married to your cousin Gwen?" Forrest slung Bubba's arm across his shoulder and supported him.

  "Hey, I 'member you." Bubba gave Forrest's chest a pat. "Good ol' Forres'. You married cousin Gwen. That’s nice.” He leaned back to look at Forrest. “Hey, you 'restin' me?"

  Forrest met Link's gaze and rolled his eyes. "Bubba, I'm a CPA. The most I can do is audit your books."

  Several of Wally's customers inched toward the booth. None looked friendly.

  Link signaled the waitress who had been watching the exchange. "Let's pay your tab and get out of here."

  She handed him a ticket and waited, hand on her hip.

  Link fished out the amount plus tip. "Come on, Virgil Lee. If you stay here, you won't have a way home. Besides, you'll just get in trouble if you drink any more."

  Virgil Lee scowled and yelled, "I ain't ready to leave. What do you think about that?" He held on to a bottle.

  Two burly men walked over from the billiard table, pool cues in hand. The largest, a man roughly the size of a Honda Civic, acted as spokesman. Unless the tattoos on Honda’s arms lied, he was ready to rumble and born to raise hell. And he loved his mother.

  Honda asked, "These fellas botherin' you, Virgil Lee?"

  "Hell, yes, they're bothering me. Always meddling in a man's business," Virgil Lee answered.

  Link exhaled. Without releasing his hold on Bubba, he flashed his badge. "Family business. These men are my cousins."

  Honda and his pal backed off but stood watching, both obviously eager to crack a pool cue over someone’s head.

  Forrest said, “I’ve got Bubba. You deal with Virgil Lee.”

  "You ain't taking me back to jail." Virgil Lee yelled and folded his arms across his chest.

  "Never mentioned jail. Your place or Big Momma's? Your choice."

  The mention of his mother brought Virgil Lee to attention. He slid out of the booth without showing any effects from the string of beers he’d consumed.

  "Home. Big Momma'd skin me alive she saw I been drinking on Sunday. That woman scares the shit out of me."

  Forrest shook with laughter and almost let Bubba fall.

  Virgil Lee stopped and looked accusingly from Link to Forrest. "What?" he asked. "You guys making fun of me?"

  "Wouldn't dream of it," Link said, fighting to hide a smile. "Forrest, why don’t you drive Bubba’s truck and take him to the folks’. I’ll take Virgil Lee home. Let's get the hell out of here."

  Virgil Lee’s face screwed up in anger. “I’m still pissed at you for arresting me last week. Shouldn’t interfere between a man and his wife. Nobody else’s business.”

  “You think everyone should let you pound on Nadine?”

  “I never mean to hurt her.” Virgil Lee’s anger subsided but he remained surly. “Maybe sometimes I lose my temper, but that’s none of your business. It’s between Nadine and me, period.”

  “Grow up, Virgil Lee. You’re an alcoholic who’s a mean drunk.”

  “I ‘spose the high and mighty Mr. Perfect never had a few beers?”

  Link stopped and stared at his cousin. “A few? Must have been over two or three dozen bottles lined up in front of you. You sayin’ Bubba drank all of them?”

  “Mind you own damn business.”

  “Keeping the peace is my business, remember? Sworn to serve and protect. You know, just like a husband’s supposed to do for his wife.”

  “Leave my wife out of this, I tell you! This is between you and me. You want to have it out right here in the parking lot?”

  The urge to punch Virgil Lee in his mouth almost won. “Get in the damned car.”

  Link pulled out his cell phone and dialed. “Nadine, this is Link. I’m bringing Virgil Lee home. He’s been drinking at Wally’s. You head on over to Big Momma’s.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Mitzi Morrison Dunaway looked around the living room of her late parents’ home. Hell, this stuff all looked so low class. Had it been this bad when she lived here? Dreary. Nothing in the room had any pizzazz to it. Not like the pictures she saw in the magazines she loved. How had her mother been able to stand this place for so long?

  Mitzi set her whiskey on the mantle and examined her face in the large mirror over the fireplace. Damn. Papa Jimbo had been right. After Mama's funeral, he'd said Mitz
i looked like she'd been rode hard and put up wet. She'd packed up and left in a snit.

  With a sigh she let a finger trace the deep lines feathering out from her right eye. Shit, she looked even worse now. Maybe she'd have a facelift, get some of those spots lasered right off her skin. Or maybe have some of those Botox injections on the lines. And now she could afford to have some of the sag taken from the bags under her eyes and the droop beneath her chin.

  Her hair already looked better, with the new cut and root touch up. Next came new clothes. Soon, yes, soon she would be a wealthy woman. Not the paltry forty thousand from Papa Jimbo's life insurance or whatever this old-fashioned dump would bring.

  Really wealthy.

  Finally, she had the man she should have married in the first place. Life on the edge, a man with power and not afraid to use it--or abuse it, if that's what it took. Adventure and danger appealed to her. No more drab, boring days with a drab, boring man. No more of this drab, boring house, either. And no more scrabbling hand to mouth. She laughed aloud and winked at her image in the mirror.

  Knowledge of the force she controlled gave her security. She and her man would go places together. They could have their own little empire right here in Cartersville, complete with a place to escape to when things got too hot here. Or if the mood stuck them.

  Mitzi walked to the foyer and the one piece of furniture she loved, her blanket chest. Nearby, a patchwork quilt lay bunched on the floor, one she thought her grandmother had pieced together by hand. She folded this last quilt and replaced it atop those already in the chest.

  She let a wistful smile form as she closed the lid that formed a seat. Her hand caressed the polished wood, and then her fingers trailed along the intricate carving that decorated the base. This old bench belonged to her and her alone, one of her few family possessions.

  Five generations of women from her mother’s family had stored their treasures in this chest. It had traveled from Germany to Pennsylvania, with stops in Tennessee and Georgia, before it found a home in Texas. Grandma Witt called it a "settle."

  Settle. What a coincidence. She giggled. What a hoot. She'd settle everything, all right.