Creighton's Hideaway

by LoRee Peery

As she said hello, he kissed each knuckle. A new kind of craziness took root in her stomach, at the same time she tried to focus on her father’s voice.

  “…I checked in with Investigator Shelbourne.” She heard his hesitation and recognized it as nothing good. “Sorry, sugar, no progress to report on the investigation.”

  “I’m losing everything.”

  Creighton shook his head and mouthed, “No. You have Jesus.”

  She leaned against the door, finding it almost impossible to concentrate.

  He drew a circle in the air, communicating that he was going to walk through the house.

  She nodded, but wanted to freak out. To run into the night, screaming until it all went away. Whatever it was. The dial tone buzzed at her ear. She didn’t remember saying good-bye to her father. Instead, she imagined the flash of a human shadow outside the window. Would she be safe again in the cabin? She could be homeless soon. She had no reserves, nothing to fall back on. She was all alone.

  You have Me. A hushed Voice sounded in her soul.

  Creighton was right.

  She wasn’t alone. Tension dropped from her brow. Following that thought, Shana pictured a verse in John’s Gospel. “I am the way and the truth and the life,” Jesus said.

  Jesus was with her.

  No lightning flashed. No thunder slammed. But peace invaded her soul. “Give me strength, Father. Please. And thank You, Jesus.” With a deep sigh, she dug into her pocket for the investigator’s business card. No reason to put it off. Technical Investigator Shelbourne at the Lincoln Police Dept. answered on the first ring. She identified herself and asked if there was any news concerning her situation.

  “We really don’t have much to go on, Ms. Arnold. Your case isn’t big enough for a common thread connecting it with other similar incidents. Sorry to say, white collar crimes like this are the up-and-coming trend. Unfortunately, we don’t have a large enough database established yet to link the smaller cases. And, no news on your car, either.”

  “I appreciate all that you have done and I guess I’ll chalk this up to one of life’s bad experiences.” She paused, sighed in resignation. “There’s something else, though. I returned to my cabin tonight to find that same strong perfume smell. I didn’t actually see anything more than a body-sized shadow, but I heard footsteps on the deck and ran back to the ranch house.” Fear lodged in her throat once again, even though Creighton had returned to rest on the couch arm, giving her support by his presence.

  Shelbourne’s voice sounded like he’d had a shot of espresso. “Ah. Whoever this is must be escalating his activities. Is there a local sheriff to contact? Someone I can talk to up there?”

  “I’ll have Creighton find out and hopefully contact you so we’re all on the same page.”

  “Wish there was more we could do. I’m curious now, and will check on that perfume smell you mentioned. I followed up on Young’s report of the break-in.”

  Shana straightened, paid more attention.

  “We did pick up a latent print from your bureau.”

  “That’s great news isn’t it?”

  “We should know soon. When will you be returning to Lincoln?”

  “I’ll be there this weekend.”

  “Good. Please stop in so we can compare your prints with the others that we found.” He hesitated. “It’s different if you are the target instead of your finances.” Shelbourne asked to speak with the rancher.

  She thanked the officer and handed the phone to Creighton. Shana stomped ten paces one way and ten back. Who was that mysterious someone…her enemy without a name?

  Before any kind of answer could form, Creighton gathered her close, while speaking into the phone. He shot her a wink. “My neighbor about five miles away is a deputy sheriff. I’ll have Hank Flowers come by in the morning to take a look around.”

  ****

  Bright sunlight defied whatever went bump in the night, and Creighton prayed Shana saw joy in the morning at her own cabin.

  Deputy Sheriff Hank Flowers prepared to leave Creighton’s home. “That about does it. Nothing much to say except there are signs that a car was parked up the road. Other than that, all we found was disturbed dust and a sleeping bag in one of the rear cabins. I’m guessing someone slept there. I’ll send another deputy to see if there are any prints or other evidence. Don’t go to that cabin until we clear it.”

  Creighton turned to go inside. He’d have to warn Valerie to be extra cautious. If needed, the women could stay at the house. He was struck by the emptiness of his rooms. He stood with his back against the kitchen counter, eating a bowl of cold cereal flakes, unable to sit at the table because he pictured Shana seated across from him.

  She’d be gone in a matter of days.

  He didn’t want to think about it now. His appetite gone, he set down the bowl. “How can I help her, Lord? I feel like my hands are tied here.” He dug his thumbs into his temples and massaged his forehead, as though unscrambling his thoughts.

  The sun glared when he stepped outside. He climbed on his four-wheeler and rumbled through the pasture on his way to Valerie’s cabin, but detoured to the top of the nearest bluff. From that vantage point he waved at Roger, who was checking the stock tank at the far windmill. Soon, Rog would sell the calves and drive the cows to winter in the corrals at his place.

  Fall meant a time of transition. A time between peaks of growth and the slumber of winter. Maybe he should invest in some cattle of his own. His thoughts idled with the motor beneath him. In the next couple of days, he’d ride the fences and make sure they were all tight.

  Suddenly, the winter ahead loomed long and dark. He had to come up with a project. He circled around and headed for Valerie’s cabin.

  She stepped outside as he pulled up. “I just need a few things at the store, Creighton. A twenty should cover it.”

  He lifted his bright red cap and resettled it on his head. “Everything OK? Nothing needs a look?”

  Valerie reached into her skirt pocket and started down the deck steps. She glanced at her list and handed it over, paper-clipped to a twenty-dollar bill. “The cabin’s in tip-top shape. But, now that I can see your eyes, you look tired. I don’t think you’re in tip-top shape.”

  “Just trying to work some things out.”

  “You young people.” Valerie shook her head and her long blonde-gray ponytail swung with the action. “Try not to be so serious about life. Enjoy each day, each problem, be glad in the Lord, and go with the flow.”

  “Easy for you to say.”

  “Sing, Creighton, sing. Your heart will be gladdened.” And with that, Valerie belted out a hymn he loved.

  He laughed aloud. “Thanks. I needed that. But I don’t know if I’m in a singing mood quite yet. Shana had a scare last night and I can’t say I blame her. Looks like she had an unexpected visitor who disappeared without a trace.”

  “Two-legged or four?”

  “Appears to have been a person. So, please be on the look-out, OK?”

  Valerie promised to check on Shana, and he was on his way again.

  Shana had insisted on sleeping in her own cabin last night, and despite his reservations, he went with her wishes. At Shana’s cabin, he waited for her to come outside and give him her grocery list, but she made no appearance. After her interrupted night, she probably needed to sleep in. Creighton reviewed their precautions of the night before, and knowing Valerie was keeping an eye on Shana, he went on to the grocery store.

  16

  Deputy Flowers showed up to ask questions, which Shana answered as well as she could. When he’d gone, Shana escaped the cabin.

  She went over events of the night before, after Creighton had walked her back and checked every nook and cranny inside and out. She’d searched every surface, every cupboard and drawer, even the refrigerator. But she found nothing out of order.

  Except that horrid perfume. She’d opened both doors to the cabin so the cross-breeze could flow through.

  Earlier, she had
distinguished the rumble of Creighton’s four-wheeler headed to Valerie’s place. Now, in the quiet and bracing fresh air, she crested a high pasture hill. She stopped to drink from her water bottle and attempted to count the cows and calves surrounding Roger Mills off in the distance.

  On her descent, a spot of white in the grass ahead drew her attention. With an eye on the oddity, she wended her way across the pasture, ever alert for holes or cactus.

  She thanked the Lord for protecting her laptop and for the flash drive she carried in her pocket. Whoever had been in the cabin could have destroyed her future by erasing her files.

  When she reached the object, Shana discovered a sun-bleached bovine hip bone. The socket looked like a fist. She straightened, drank from her water bottle again, and swept her gaze over the horizons.

  A phrase came to mind from a Psalm Valerie had mentioned. The works of God’s fingers had created this land. Marvelous. Wondrous. Mighty. There were not enough adjectives to capture the magnitude. She felt so small. Her state of being was minutia in light of the great expanse that surrounded her. Money could not purchase the peace that seeped into her pores.

  She grabbed the bleached white bone and marched on. Shana stumbled over the ridges of stones without realizing at first what they were. When she did, she rotated in a slow circle. On the side of a small hill she was surrounded by circles of round stones. The stones were similar, gray with blackish-green lichen of some sort. In varied heights, they dotted the earth. Flat stones were nearly invisible, covered by grass. Others rose six to eight inches.

  She pictured two boys, one tanned golden, the other dark cinnamon. One with coffee bean brown hair, the other so black it shone blue, following the circles. She gazed off in the distance, and tried to imagine Creighton’s friend, Leslie. His boyhood home after he left the reservation was near here. There were two separate groups of trees where homesteads could have nestled. Ranch buildings looked like game pieces from a Monopoly set.

  Healing hills.

  Shana felt a Presence far greater than she had ever imagined, as it wrapped her in a cocoon of comfort. “This must be what Pastor Harrigan meant when he mentioned the Holy Spirit at church.”

  Her thoughts sprinted on. Life was good. And she was ready to face her troubles head-on. She’d like to find the unknown person in her cabin during daylight. She returned to find it empty. After lunch, Shana decided to help Creighton feel better. She shuffled through the cupboards and grabbed a bag of chocolate chips. She was soon out the door again. Anger and fear marched with her, but she wouldn’t acknowledge either one.

  Her brisk gait took her to the ranch house. The garage stood open, Creighton’s truck was gone. She let herself in the house and spoke his name into the silence, just to make sure he was really absent. No answer, but she was greeted by the faint smell of chicken, which flavored the air from the day before. “Thank goodness it isn’t that awful stench from my own place.”

  She opened cupboard and pantry doors and soon had ingredients set out on the counter. Eggs from the fridge joined the recipe stash, and she turned the oven on to preheat.

  While she mixed the dry ingredients, a smile formed. In the city, she would have turned on the TV. Here in the country, she discovered her own thoughts were adequate.

  The last baking sheet of cookies was in the oven when she heard Creighton’s truck pull up. She wiped her hands on the dishcloth and whisked away a speck of flour from the front of her khakis. Then she took a breath and opened the door, “Hey, there.”

  Creighton nudged the pickup door shut with his shoulder. Two plastic grocery sacks dangled from each hand. “Well, hi there, yourself.” His smile lit her insides.

  “I hope you don’t mind. I helped myself to your goods and baked—” She held the door so he could enter the kitchen.

  “Chocolate chip cookies,” he inhaled with obvious sensory pleasure. “Wow. What a treat.”

  He set two of the bags on the table and crossed to place the other two on the counter next to the fridge. He grabbed a cookie with one hand and motioned to Shana with the other. The cookie disappeared in his mouth, and she was drawn by the teasing gleam in his eyes. “Think I’ll go grocery shopping more often.” His gaze locked with hers. “Come here.” His low, husky voice traveled through the fibers of her torso.

  She stepped into his embrace. Shana caught her breath a beat before his lips touched hers.

  Creighton moaned in response and kissed her thoroughly. Light and gentle at first, then deeper. As though he sensed that she had no strength in her legs, he held her by the elbows.

  He ran a roughened thumb over her bottom lip, grinned, and then kissed her nose. “I…” he rasped. “Want…” Then he brushed a cheek against her temple.

  Her knees went watery.

  “To…” He kissed the spot in front of her ear.

  She couldn’t feel her feet on the floor.

  “Savor every taste.” He showered kisses as soft as gentle raindrops across her forehead, just below the hairline. His thumbs traced her jaws and then caressed the corners of her mouth. His lips found purchase on hers again, and his hands gravitated to her waist.

  She returned the kiss, and tunneled her fingers through his hair from nape to temple. Her senses were assaulted by the rightness of Creighton’s overwhelming embrace. Where the strength came from, she didn’t know, but she brought her hands down to put pressure on his chest. Then she leaned away. She mumbled, “I need some air.” Once outside, she dropped her head into her hands.

  This was Creighton’s world.

  Their lives were miles apart with her job and home elsewhere. She must return to Lincoln.

  ****

  “No doubt about it,” Creighton greeted Shana outside after he emptied the grocery sacks, “you’re mightier than your size.” His quick glance in her direction confirmed that she must feel as dazed as he did. He fidgeted with the billed cap on his head. “Would you like to ride with me to take Valerie her groceries?”

  “OK.”

  “I didn’t see you to get a list so I guessed at what to buy for you.” In an attempt to put a time perspective on things, he added, “Whatever’s left once you leave, I can use myself.”

  She drew an audible breath.

  He wheeled his quad out of the garage and lifted the remaining groceries from the truck. He climbed on without a word, and set the heaviest bag in front of him.

  Shana took the plastic sacks from his hands once she had eased herself into place.

  He turned to face forward again, and hid the smile that threatened.

  She draped the handles of one sack over her shoulder like a purse. She held the other between his side and her leg. With her free hand, she looped her fingers into his waistband. He jolted, but in a pleasurable way. Except, this pain hit his heart and not his hide.

  At her cabin, Valerie met them with glazed eyes.

  Creighton suspected she’d been staring at her computer screen for too long. She must have picked up on the tension because her head swung from Creighton to Shana, then back again. As though she surmised this was not a time for chitchat, she mouthed her “thanks,” and went back inside.

  Thoughts swarmed in his mind louder than the quad’s motor during the short ride to Shana’s cabin. How could she be interested in him, when he had done the things he had? He still couldn’t juxtapose his desire for her with his painful past. And she’d be leaving soon, returning to Lincoln where he had no part in her life.

  Creighton believed in treating a woman like a lady, even if there was a protective distance between them now. He wanted her to stay. He knew she had to go. He shut off the engine, waited for her to climb down, and then dismounted. With a shake of his head, he declined Shana’s offer to help. He carried all the plastic sacks into her cabin. Turning from the kitchen area, he crossed to the sliding door so he could get a better look at the bleached bone on the deck.

  “I found it on the way to the tipi rings.”

  An added golden light came i
n to meld the blue to green of her eyes.

  She’s beautiful. He drew a ragged breath. God’s gift, this woman. Is she my gift? God, do You mean for her to be my completion?

  “Would you mind if I take it back to Lincoln with me? I’ll do something with it, maybe buy a cactus plant and set it next to the pot.”

  “I don’t mind at all. We’ve got a ravine where we dump what the coyotes leave.” Creighton turned away and stared down at the creek. He wasn’t in a hurry to depart. Her nearness tugged at him. Yet, he didn’t want to touch her again, to have one more encounter to haunt him after she was gone.

  She came to his side and tucked her hand into his. “Creighton, I can tell that for some reason you don’t like the idea of getting close to me.” She leaned her head against his arm.

  “It’s not—” He couldn’t finish.

  “Can’t we be friends? Christian friends can care about one another, can’t they?” She stepped in front of him so there was no way he could prevent being drawn into the honest freshness of her face.

  “I’m a jerk.” He ran his knuckles down her jaw line. “I don’t mean to make you feel bad because of my moods. But you make me feel things that surprise me.”

  “OK. I’ll try not to invade your space.” She leaned her hands on the railing.

  Heel. Jerk. Scaredy-cat. Stop! His dad had called the old Creighton those names.

  The new man was righteous in the sight of God. The theme of Romans, chapter six came to mind. Believers are dead to sin and alive to Christ. Yet we continue to struggle. He missed her warmth, feeling the empty space where Shana had stood. Creighton massaged the corded muscles at the back of his neck. Oh, Lord, forgive me for not feeling good enough for her. She’s found herself out here on the land that You’ve made me caretaker of. Now I’m turning my back on her because I feel unworthy. Show me Your will.

  “There’s so much to enjoy here, and I love spending time outdoors. Have I seen it all?”

  “Maybe. Can’t compare to what God makes. But, do you like to swing?”