by Linda Warren
Wade was just trying to help her. He’d found the horse sleeping bag and the green one at the feed store, but he’d had to search through Tanner’s General Store, which had an assortment of anything imaginable, to find the purple and Barbie ones. And she’d bit his head off for no reason.
So he intended to back off and give Callie her space. The incidents happening to the newcomers bothered him though. He didn’t want anything to happen to those kids. Or Callie. The house wasn’t that far from his office and he could keep an eye on things without her really knowing.
He cursed himself for mentioning the horse. Clearly Callie didn’t want her daughter to ride. At least not with him. He’d have to rescind the invitation, but he hated to break the little girl’s heart.
Before he could reach his office, Millicent Niebauer came through the door, a birdlike woman with a camera around her neck and a pencil behind her ear. Barbara Jean, his secretary, was gone for the day or he’d let her handle Millicent. She and her husband, Hiram, ran the local newspaper and Millie was always on the lookout for a story. Or more to the point, gossip.
“Sheriff, I heard we have newcomers in town over at the Hellmuth house.”
“Yes, Millie. Mrs. Austin arrived today with her three kids.”
“What’s she like?”
“Touchy,” Virgil spoke up.
“What do you mean?” Millicent turned to him and Wade sighed. Virgil was worse than any old woman gossip.
“Well, you see, the sheriff and me took sleeping bags over to—”
“Virg, aren’t you supposed to answer that call we just got from the Tuttles’ neighbor?” The only way to sidetrack Virgil was with police work.
“Ah, Sheriff, I hate going over there. Cora Lou shoots at Norris every time he comes home from one of his long-haul trips, accusing him of having an affair. I’m getting tired of having to break them up. I don’t know how she misses him. His chest is as broad as a side of a barn.” Virgil headed for the door, still grumbling. “I just might arrest Cora Lou and maybe she’d stop all this foolishness.”
“Then do it,” Wade said as the door closed.
“What’s the scoop on the new lady, Sheriff?” Millie didn’t skip a beat. “Virgil said she’s touchy. Why do you think that is?”
Wade suppressed a groan. As always, Millie was searching for a story where there wasn’t one. “There’s no story, Millie. She’s a single mom with three kids and wants to raise them in a small-town atmosphere.”
“Single, hmm?” Millicent scribbled something on a pad. “That’s going to get the young bucks in this town stirred up. Like when Kristin and Kayla came to town. They found husbands. You think Mrs. Austin’s looking for a husband?”
“I got work to do.” He walked into his office and closed the door.
A lot of things didn’t add up with Callie Austin, her nervousness, her desire to be alone and her kids calling her by her name. That was odd. It had thrown him for a minute. He’d taken the high road, though, and hadn’t asked. He’d learned that discretion worked best in his job. The details usually came out later, especially the ones people tried to keep hidden.
Sinking into his chair, he couldn’t stop thinking about Callie. Millie thought she was looking for a husband. He didn’t think so, but she was looking for something. What? He had no idea. Maybe it was peace and quiet and time to get over her husband’s death.
Whatever it was, the town had to leave her alone.
And that included him.
CALLIE ARRANGED the sleeping bags in one of the bedrooms. She had to put hers in between Brit and Mary Beth because both wanted to sleep by her. Adam arranged his at their feet. They found a table for Fred and fed him. Then Callie opened the ice chest with their food stash. Since she didn’t know the layout of the town, she thought it best if they just had a sandwich for tonight. Their diet had been atrocious lately, fast food and sandwiches. Until she got the kitchen fixed, she didn’t know how much longer it would be before she could cook them a decent meal.
They gathered in the parlor around the ice chest, sitting on the floor. “I want peanut butter,” Mary Beth said, Miss Winnie in her lap. “Peanut butter with bananas. You know how I like it, Callie.”
“I sure do, sweetie.”
“I want mine with grape jelly,” Brit added.
Adam made a face. “’Cause it’s purple.”
Brit stuck out her tongue again.
“You’re stupid,” Adam told her.
“You’re stupider.”
Callie stopped in the process of opening the jar. The kids were acting so out of character and Callie suspected it had something to do with Nigel’s abuse. They’d gotten along well until he’d come into their lives; now they were bickering and being rude. It had to stop.
“We have to talk. Adam, you will not call your sister stupid again. And Brit, you will stop sticking out your tongue.”
“What if I forget?” Brit asked.
“Then you say I’m sorry.”
“To him.” She jabbed a thumb toward Adam. “No wa…” Her voice fluttered away when she saw the look on Callie’s face. “Okay, but I think you need to punish him—make him sleep in the attic or something.”
“No, Callie,” Mary Beth cried. “Don’t make Adam sleep in the attic.”
The thought of any of them being punished again upset Mary Beth. “No one is sleeping in the attic.” Callie rubbed Mary Beth’s arm to comfort her. “Let’s eat dinner, then we’ll take a bath and go to bed. We’re all tired.”
They ate their sandwiches in silence and Callie cut apples and oranges into slices. After eating, Callie gathered the remains and put them in a plastic bag. She noticed Mary Beth’s eyelids drooping. It was time for bed.
Brit and Mary Beth took a bath first in the antique tub with claw feet. It was almost identical to the one upstairs, except it was clean thanks to Ethel Mae. For something so old, it was in very good shape. The toilet had a pull chain and it worked. Being in the house was like taking a step back in time.
She helped the girls into their pajamas while Adam took his bath. Snug in their bags, Callie hurriedly took a bath and slipped into pajama bottoms and a T-shirt. She left the bathroom light on so the house wouldn’t be in total darkness.
Soon they were all comfy. Or so Callie thought. “Callie,” Mary Beth whispered.
“What, sweetie?”
“What if I wet the bed?”
“Then I’ll clean it up and we’ll go back to sleep.”
“But my sleeping bag’ll be wet.”
“Mary Beth, sweetie. Don’t worry about it. I’ll wash the bag tomorrow and you can slide in with me.”
“’Kay.” Mary Beth turned onto her side, Miss Winnie in her arms. “Night, Fred. Don’t be afraid. Callie’s here.”
They went through this every night. Mary Beth just needed reassurance. Before Glynis’s death, she’d never wet the bed or been afraid. Once their lives settled down, the bed-wetting would stop. Since they’d been on the run, Mary Beth had only wet the bed once—their first night in a motel. Callie was hoping that soon she wouldn’t be wetting the bed at all and she wouldn’t be so afraid.
Callie gazed into the semidarkness, listening to the occasional sound of a car and the creaks and noises of the old house. They were here. They were safe—for now. Just the thought of that relaxed her.
“I can’t sleep,” Brit complained.
“Me, neither,” Mary Beth chimed in. “Tell us a story.”
“Not the princess one again or I’ll puke.” Adam made his wishes known.
“There’s a prince for every princess, right, Callie?”
“Right,” she answered Brit’s question, but she wasn’t sure. She’d met a couple of horned toads in her day. And kissing didn’t help.
“Daddy was Mommy’s prince,” Mary Beth said.
“Yes, he was,” Callie agreed. There wasn’t a better man than John Lambert.
“And Nigel’s a frog.” Brit giggled. “You know what? If he
comes here maybe we can get June Bug to eat him.”
“Maybe he’ll eat you.” Adam joined the conversation.
“Callie, he’s being mean again.” Brit wanted to make sure she knew that.
“Everyone go to sleep.”
Silence for a moment, then Mary Beth’s tiny voice asked, “Can Mommy see us?”
Callie swallowed. “Yes, she can.”
“Daddy, too?”
“Yes, Daddy, too.”
“Then that bad sheriff won’t arrest us ’cause they’ll take care of us.”
How Callie wished that were true. And that Glynis had never met Nigel or that John hadn’t died. Now she had to deal with the consequences.
Once she heard Brit and Mary Beth’s steady breathing, she slipped from her bag. Adam’s recent behavior was unacceptable and they had to discuss it. Lying on his back, he stared at the ceiling. She went down on her knees beside him.
“Can’t sleep?”
“No.”
“Why are you being so mean to your sister?”
He turned on his side to face her. “Because she’s being silly and she’s going to get us caught. Then they’ll take us back to Nigel and put you in jail. I can’t take that, Callie. I can’t. And if you’re in jail, I’ll just die. I’m so scared.”
“Oh, Adam.” She gathered him in her arms, her heart breaking. “Please stop worrying so much. I’ll take care of us. I promise.”
“But the sheriff keeps coming here.”
“He’s just being nice.” As she said the words, she knew they were true. Wade Montgomery was a nice man. “Listen to me. Worrying is my department and I will handle the sheriff. I want you to turn back into the sweet little boy you’ve always been. Okay?”
“Okay.” He rubbed his face against her.
“Now go to sleep.”
Callie walked out onto the front porch and sat in one of the rockers, her heart heavy. It was a beautiful moonlit night with a million stars twinkling through the live oaks. She drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around her legs, listening to the gentle serenade of the crickets. Everything was quiet. Peaceful. Except her thoughts.
How could her mother do this to them? she asked herself again. Put them in the position of fleeing from the law. So much anger churned inside her at the turmoil Adam was going through, and the grief and fear Mary Beth and Brit were experiencing. She tried not to be angry at Glynis, but she was. She’d been taken in by a con artist. Nigel had lavished her with attention and praise, something she’d needed after John’s death. Still, it didn’t give her the right to bring that awful man into their lives.
Glynis could be impulsive and selfish at times, but she’d never done anything like this. She and John had had a good marriage, a good life, so how could she fall for Nigel? Callie didn’t understand that and every time she’d tried to talk to her mother, Glynis would say they’d talk later. But later never came. Instead, a nightmare had followed and she was still…
Her thoughts skidded to an abrupt stop as a car pulled up to the curb. Wade. Again. He unfolded his tall frame from the vehicle and started up the walk. It was late—too late for a friendly visit. What was he doing here? There could only be one reason. He knew her identity and had come to arrest her.
Her first reaction was to run inside, lock the front door and get the kids out the back. But her car was in front.
She was trapped.
And she didn’t even hear a siren.
CHAPTER FOUR
AS THE SHERIFF STROLLED UP the steps, Callie held her breath until her chest burned. Why was he here?
“Mrs. Austin.” Wade tipped his hat in welcome.
“Sheriff,” she acknowledged in a hesitant voice, her heart ticking like a time bomb about to explode.
“I was making my last drive through town before heading home and I saw you sitting out here.” He leaned a shoulder against a pillar.
Her lungs expanded with relief. He didn’t know who she was—yet. She had more time. Tightening her arms around her legs, she said, “It’s so relaxing and quiet. I can barely hear the traffic on the highway.”
“Yep. Homestead’s a peaceful place. Not much happens.”
“I like that.”
“That’s why you came to Homestead, isn’t it?”
Her eyes shot to his, trying to make out his expression in the moonlight. Was there something hidden in that remark? There seemed to be, but she really couldn’t tell. Her perception wasn’t all that good lately, and her nerves were a mangled mass of spaghetti.
“What do you mean?” she asked for good measure.
Wade walked over and sat in the other rocker. It squeaked against the floorboards from his weight. “A small quiet town to raise your children.”
“Yes.”
Away from Nigel Tremont and his sadistic behavior.
Wade clasped his hands between his knees. “I really came by to apologize.”
“Oh?”
“I should have spoken to you first before offering Brit a chance to ride a horse. That put you in an awkward position.”
Callie tucked her hair behind her ear, amazed at his sensitivity. “Since we started making plans to come to Texas, Brit has talked about being a cowgirl. She’s never been near a horse so I’m not sure where the idea comes from. I feel once she gets near the big animal all that will change. Brit’s very impulsive.”
“And very charming. Like her mother.”
His voice felt like a caress in the night, warming her skin and… Oh, this was getting too intimate—with the wrong man.
A tense pause followed, then he said, “I’m afraid I had personal reasons for making the offer.”
“Personal reasons?”
“Yeah.” He rubbed his hands together. “My son died four years ago and his horse hasn’t been ridden since. I was hoping another child would…” He stopped for a moment. “My father is very protective of that horse and it probably wouldn’t have worked anyway.”
Callie’s heart filled with compassion. “I’m so sorry about your son.” She could only imagine the grief and the heartache of losing a child and she could hear it in every word he spoke.
“Thank you,” he said and got to his feet with restless energy. It was clear that talking about his son wasn’t easy and he quickly changed the subject. “I thought I better warn you, too, about the townsfolk. They’ll be eager to help and I hope it’s not going to offend you. People around here are just friendly.”
She stood on her bare feet facing him. “I’ll remember that and I’m probably going to need a lot of help. The house—” she waved a hand toward the front door “—needs lots of work.”
“June Bug is a good carpenter and he can fix just about anything.”
“Odell’s a very interesting person.”
A dark eyebrow arched in amusement. “Yeah. I think he’s been called that a time or two.”
“I’m not calling him June Bug. I consider it an insult.”
Wade studied her in the moonlight, which seemed to form a halo around the blond hair that hung loosely to her shoulders. Without her shoes, she barely came up to his shoulder, but despite her petite size he had a feeling Callie Austin was a very strong woman. She would be a pleasant surprise for the town of Homestead. That was his personal opinion. His train of thought seemed to be completely sidetracked since her arrival in town.
“I really hate to disappoint Brit.”
“Don’t worry about it. Brit forgets things easily, and frankly I need to spend all my time on the house.”
And not getting involved with me. Where did that thought come from? He didn’t even know the woman, but he liked her and…
He cleared his throat. “Are the kids comfortable for the night?”
“Yes. They’re completely exhausted.”
He nodded. “I’m sure you are, too, so I’ll let you get to bed.” He tipped his hat again. “Have a good night.”
With that, Wade strolled down the step to his squad car. He’d vowed to stay awa
y from Callie and give her some space, but when he’d glimpsed her sitting in the rocker he’d stopped without even thinking. The offer of Brit riding a horse bothered him. After he’d done it, he realized he shouldn’t have, especially after Callie’s reaction. And of course Jock would be against anyone riding Lucky. It was best to rectify things now, but he didn’t feel good about hurting Brit. He wondered how Callie would explain it.
Before getting into his car, he glanced at the front porch. Callie had gone inside. He felt a moment of loneliness and he had no idea what that meant. He felt lonely all the time—nothing and no one could make that go away. Talking to her was almost surreal, like this was something he needed. And he’d told her about Zach. He never spoke to anyone about his son, except his friend Ethan Ritter. Ethan had lost a sister, so he knew about that kind of pain.
He got in his car and headed toward Spring Creek Ranch.
And a confrontation with his father.
WHEN WADE WALKED into the kitchen, Jock was sitting at the table nursing a cup of coffee. The mug trembled in his hands.
“How you feeling, Pop?”
“Hummph.”
Wade poured a cup and straddled a chair across from his father. He and Jock used to be the same height, but at sixty-nine Jock’s height had diminished. His hair was silver-gray and his face leathery and wrinkled from years in the sun. A man who once walked with pride now found it a struggle to get through each day, and on days when he needed help, he depended on the bottle. There were too many of those days to Wade’s way of thinking. They had to talk.
Where to start? Talking to his father had always been a hard thing to do. Wade had idolized Jock and wanted to be just like him. He’d been Wyatt Earp and John Wayne combined to a young Wade. Seeing him in this state of depression was even harder. Now Wade would have to be the strong one.
He gripped his cup. “Pop, this drinking has to stop.”
Jock held his head with both hands. “My head’s pounding, son, and if I get angry it might explode.”
“Then stop drinking.”
