She stopped to catch her breath and removed the burden of the backpack from her shoulders. It caught in the crook of her arm. She widened her stance, knees wobbling, and held the nozzle of the fire extinguisher like a gun. Why hadn’t she thought this out more clearly?
The bartender, Jake, appeared first from around the corner. He looked menacing with clenched jaw and intense tight eyes. She gulped, but stood her ground. The second man swept in from the opposite end of the building a beat later.
A staring contest accompanied a defiant battle of wills when they cautiously approached D’Anne. She trained her eyes left and then right. Step-by- step, they closed in on her.
Jake motioned for D’Anne to give him the backpack. He paced closer. She fired; spraying his face with white foam, then ran around the corner. He yelled an oath and swiped at his eyes.
D’Anne heard a growl and Dexter appeared like a sprinting black and white shag rug. He attached himself to Jake’s leg. The man cursed in pain under the dog’s bite. The other man dove toward her, catching her arm and attempting to wrench the extinguisher from her hand before she could use it again.
D’Anne finally found her voice. She held on using all of her strength, screamed and broke free.
Dancing to the left and with all of her might, she grunted and flung the backpack into the air. It landed with a thump on the tin roof of the shelter.
“Get this dog off of me!” Jake yelled.
While the other man scrambled to find a way up to the roof, D’Anne ran around the corner of the building, smack into another body.
Tyler!
He let rip a shrill whistle. “Leave it!” Tyler sliced the air with his sharp command.
Dexter obeyed, releasing the bartender’s leg.
The driver from the multi-decal RV appeared with a cell phone attached to his ear. “I’m calling the police,” he announced with the authority of a world traveler.
D’Anne panted for air. Her knees almost gave out. Her vision flickered. She willed herself to shape up and used Tyler’s large deltoid to regain her balance before she said, “What the hell took you so long?”
Chapter Twenty-One
“You’re lucky I’m not packing heat or I’d shoot your damn dog!” said the deep and threatening voice of the bartender.
D’Anne shook her head to help refocus.
The bartender nodded toward the camper making the cell phone call. “Hang it up, we’re leaving as soon as we get that backpack.”
“No!” she blurted.
Tyler tightened his grip and whispered, “If we get the police involved, you’ll risk losing all the money.”
That stopped her cold.
Tyler tamped the air with his hand in a stern manner to convince the RV neighbor on the cell phone to let the situation drop.
“We’ll handle this, thank you very much, sir,” he said, looking one way yet walking toward the bartender.
It finally dawned on D’Anne why the bartender gave her the heebie-jeebies. He’d been the guy who’d thrown the blanket over her and tied her up in Abilene. She remembered the satisfying yelp he let out when Dexter bit into his ankle, the same sound he’d made a few seconds ago. He deserved to get busted for assault, but the risk of losing the money outranked that for now.
Glaring at him she said, “Did Jilly put you up to this?”
“No comment.” He looked antsy waiting for the second man, while backing away from Tyler.
“What about Theresa?” she asked, wishing she still had the fire extinguisher, longing to spray his sorry face one more time.
The bartender didn’t make eye contact, giving D’Anne the impression she’d pinned the tail on Theresa’s skinny ass. Greedy bitch. She’d threatened Reese with the IRS and hired someone to rough her up. What the hell kind of friend was that?
The second man jumped down from the storage roof with the Dalmatian backpack in tow. He pushed her to the ground and made a sprint for the Hummer. Tyler went after him before she could protest. The bartender hopped into the passenger side of the car when Tyler reached the handle. The locks clicked shut. Tyler kicked at the Hummer and cursed, balancing on the foothold as long as he could. They peeled out, leaving a dust cloud big enough for The King to make a stage entrance.
“I’ve got the license plate,” the camper said, helping D’Anne to her feet.
Tyler spit dirt and kicked the ground with his red boot, “Shee-it.” He looked at her, arms wide-open, defeat on his dusty face. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.” She thanked the camper and took his note.
Tyler’s eyebrows shot up and he cocked his head. “Are you nuts?”
She whispered through her teeth, “Trust me.”
He shook his head with a look of disbelief in his eyes.
“We better get the hell out of here fast!” She looked him up and down—tattered and dirty, yet looking like a walking billboard for country music. Thank God, he’d left the white hat behind.
Tyler drew her into his embrace, anchoring her close to his chest. He rested his chin on her head and wrapped her in miles of long, sturdy arms. His tall legs rocked back and forth and he rubbed her shoulders with comfort. “Easy come, easy go, hey Slick?”
“Let’s just get out of here.” She broke away and set off for the RV.
He pulled her back by the arm and whispered. “You’re not going to let them keep all that dough are you?”
“I’m going to let them keep the backpack.” She shrugged herself free and climbed inside the RV. She started the engine, then glanced into the side-view mirror. She saw Tyler standing with hands on hips, continuing to look perplexed.
“I’m leaving,” she called.
Tyler popped his head inside the door. “Give me a chance to hook up the Rabbit, we’ll drive back together.”
“I’m not going back.”
“What?” He stopped in the doorway. “Where’re you goin’ ?”
She shifted her gaze to the magnetic Indian Reservation School Calendar on the passenger seat with the monthly pull-off sheets. “I thought I might like to see the charity I’ve been supporting these last few years.” She pointed to it. “Their address is twenty miles outside of Las Vegas.”
“Are you serious? It’s after midnight!” A look of worry crossed Tyler’s face. His questioning blue eyes narrowed and his blond brows knitted, probably trying to figure the most tactful way to ask if she’d lost her mind in Sin City. Right now, she didn’t care what he thought.
“Are you going to trust me, or stand there wasting my time? Like you said, it’s already after midnight.”
He switched his glance to the Rabbit, then back to D’Anne. “I think I’ll give you and Dexter some company. Let me hook up the car.”
D’Anne took the time to ponder the literature from the Reservation Indian School that she’d read and practically memorized over the years she had been supporting the school. She made a mental list of all the things they stood for. Provide for the children. Act as the extended family…the sacred circle. Giving the children hope and a chance in life. She knew the depressing odds for many Native Americans. Helping their children only made sense.
D’Anne glanced over her shoulder at Ricky-Bob’s bass propped in the corner. A gentle sense of peace kissed her skin like an ancient spirit mist. She smiled and let out her breath. Justice would be served.
Tyler angled the Rabbit in place with the other camper’s help and successfully directed D’Anne and the RV from the campground site. He waved goodbye to the good citizen one last time, then climbed inside and closed the door behind him. A skeptical look remained in his eyes, but when he grinned at her, the look turned more to one of amusement as if he was pondering what the loopy California broad had in store for him next. And he looked forward to it!
He slipped into the other cockpit seat, “Let’s go, Slick.”
She tossed him printed directions with a small map. “I used Dean’s laptop to get them. Can you put them in the GPS?”
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“So where exactly are we goin’ ?” She saw Tyler glance down at the paper. “Shee-it, you really are serious.”
With no time to waste, she shifted into drive. The RV’s tires cracked and popped as it rolled slowly over the gravel road toward the exit.
She stopped driving long enough to look Tyler smack in the eyes. “Trust me on this, okay?”
He didn’t blink, even gave her enough time to begin to think it was a stupid question before he answered.
“Yep.”
Dee stopped at the exit and apologized to the Lucky Slot Campground attendant. The man waved her through with a benevolent no-harm-done wink, but suggested she not come back anytime soon. Tyler watched as she glanced down the street, probably looking for the Hummer, then turned right and headed out of town.
Little was said between them on the drive. He figured she must’ve been afraid to mention the love song he’d written and performed for her earlier, because then she’d have to explain the multitude of reasons she didn’t love him back. Tyler wasn’t ready to hear any of them, so he kept to his own thoughts. Thoughts about what a good life they could have together if she’d only give him a chance. Thoughts about traveling more in her RV—just the two of them—for a long meandering trip back to Nashville before he started recording for Dwayne Hudson at Sundown Records. Thoughts and hopes she’d consider becoming his business manager since she was so irritatingly good and natural at it. And most importantly, he thought about how much he needed her.
They’d make a great team.
The annoying truth percolated through his brain. He trusted Dee. Hell, he was driving with her to some reservation school deep in the desert in the middle of the night like it was normal and right. And he just let her walk away from five hundred thousand dollars without so much as blinking. He’d follow her to California if she asked. Could he prove his love any more than that?
Forty-five minutes later, on a back road in the midst of nowhere, a moderate-sized humble adobe-styled building appeared like a halo in the dark. Dim solar lights rimmed the parking lot and walkway, barely emitting enough rays to help them find their way to the entrance of the school.
Dee parked like a pro and cut the engine. She took a deep breath and turned to Tyler. “I need your help with something in the back.” She looked over her shoulder.
Following her gaze, Tyler gave a confused glance toward the bass, then back to Dee. Her smile, huge and Cheshire Cat-like, baffled him more. He almost expected her to giggle. Instead, she stood and walked toward the instrument.
“We’ll need a shopping bag.”
Tyler followed her lead, stopping to search where Dee kept the bags. “Hey,” he said. “What’s your phone doing over here?” He bent and picked it up from beside the driver’s captain seat, then tossed it to her.
“Thanks,” she said. “I lost it in the scramble earlier. Now get me a bag, will you?”
He found a plastic sack in the kitchen drawer, instead. “This okay?” He held it up for inspection.
Glancing his way, she said, “Sure.” She unzipped the jacket on the bass and peeled it off. After the cover was removed, she checked the bulging back pocket where sheet music was usually kept, and then rummaged through the side compartments where the bass violin bow and assorted other things were meant to be.
A magician’s grin danced across her face when she pulled stack after stack of money from the bulging pockets, like rabbits from a hat.
Well, damn.
Tyler shook his head and smiled, realizing how smart or crazy-careless she’d been. “Lady, you certainly had me fooled. No wonder you didn’t give a crap about the backpack.”
“Now you know why I wanted to get the hell out of there. I figured once they opened up the Dalmatian, we’d be gonners.”
When the leather case pockets were empty, she reached underneath the bridge and inside the face of the big honey-colored fiddle.
“I switched the money back in Tucson.” Dee fished her hand around for a second or two until she located what she was looking for. “I almost wet myself when I saw the bass on stage tonight.” Her eyes lifted and her grin widened when she unstuck and pulled four rolls of Saran wrapped cashier’s checks from within. “If I’d known Ricky-Bob would need his acoustic bass tonight, I’d never have hid it here!”
“No wonder the bass sounded dull on your song.” He waited for Dee to say something about the love song. She didn’t. His sense of hope tanked.
“Maybe we should count it first?” Preoccupied, D’Anne tossed him a stack of money.
“There’s enough cash there to burn a wet mule.” Feeling a sudden wave of cynicism he answered without thinking. “And darlin’ if they’re any kind of charitable organization, they’ll have their adding machine set up and ready to go the minute you hand the cash to ’em.”
D’Anne picked up the sack filled with money and cashier’s checks and started toward the RV door. “You coming?”
“Hell yeah!” he said, sounding more angry than he’d meant.
****
The Father opened the school office door with a set of twenty different clanking keys on a metal ring, able to find the exact one on his first try. He escorted them with caution, more like a person fearing robbery rather than receiving a donation. Inside the room, he made them both take an oath that the money wasn’t stolen. Tyler claimed ignorance. Dee seemed to have new information about the nature of the money and who was he to question it? So the word of two complete strangers, without a hand on a bible, seemed to be sufficient for the man of the cloth.
He’d been right about the adding machine.
With a delightful grin, the Father counted out five hundred thousand dollars between cash and cashier’s checks made out to D’Anne Palmer. She spent several minutes signing the forty checks over to The Nevada Indian School, using her driver’s license and a bankcard as proof of identity. Assuring them the money would be spent for the school’s benefit, the priest called in two nuns to witness the exchange. He placed everything in a zippered, leather cash bag complete with lock.
Dee hadn’t even wanted a receipt, but the clergyman insisted. She folded the paper and put it in Tyler’s breast pocket for safekeeping. She glanced into his eyes as she patted his chest with an assured look. He nodded. She seemed confident she’d done the right thing.
Tyler and D’Anne shook hands all around, then left the priest and nuns in a state of shock. One of the nuns fingered the rosary hanging from the belt of her habit, as though it gave her strength. The Father’s eyes blinked in disbelief at the good fortune then he blessed them for the miracle and sent them on their way.
****
On the walk back to the RV, Tyler broke into her thoughts.
“So why’d you do it?” His deep voice echoed in the still desert air. “Why give it all away? You could have been sittin’ pretty for a long, long time.”
“Reese embezzled it. I don’t want to benefit from that. And if Theresa and the bartender think it’s okay to rough me up to get all the cash my husband made for them by cheating with insider trading tips, I don’t think they deserve it, either.” She tried to look brave, though wracked with worries about her own financial future. “It all comes down to the greater good, Ty.”
Outside the RV door, Tyler folded his arms and grinned at her. “So it’s better to give it away to little kids, huh?”
“Yeah, it is.” Better than letting that evil witch get a penny.
With the money taken care of, other thoughts popped into her mind. D’Anne came to a stop, anchoring her hands on her hips. She had to know, and couldn’t wait another second. “So why’d you do it, Ty?”
“Do what?”
“Sign with MeggaDecca and screw your band.”
Tyler stiffened. “What authority gave you that information?” He moved closer to look into her eyes, grabbed her arms and pressed her against the RV. “Don’t you know me better than that?”
She couldn’t meet his eyes. She thought she knew T
yler, thought his loyalty to the band was as transparent as the love she saw each time he looked at her. Yet when challenged, she’d believed the worst. “Bear said he heard that woman saying they only wanted you.”
Tyler released her and backed off. “And that’s true.” He hooked a thumb under his silver belt buckle. “But I didn’t want them.” He swiped his other hand through the air. “For your information, Slick, I haven’t signed anything and I don’t intend to until I get back to Tennessee.” He stared her down, anger in his eyes. “I wanted to make sure I got paid so I could pay the guys before I told Pauline to shove it.” He kicked a rock and crossed his arms again. “You are the most infuriating woman I’ve ever met.” He paced one way, then another.
She squirmed.
“You actually thought I’d sell out my band?” Shame burned through her. She studied her shoes and heard him pace more.
“And furthermore, I sang a special song for you tonight, and you haven’t even mentioned it.” Frustration changed the tone of his voice.
D’Anne cleared her throat and worked to find words. “I thought that love song was beautiful.”
“‘That love song?’ Is that the best you can do?” His pitch rose with exasperation. “I bared my soul to the world about how I feel for you and you call it ‘that love song,’ like some generic lovebird tune.”
She felt heat and anger when he passed by. She touched his arm to slow him down.
He glanced at her like an insecure suitor. “I wrote that song for you, Dee. You know that.” He lowered his voice, sounding resigned. “I kinda hoped you’d like it.”
She reached for him. “I did like it Ty. I loved it. It made me cry.” She clutched his elbow. “I’m just not sure you wrote it for the right person.”
He pulled back, giving her an incredulous look. “Who the hell else should the song be for, Dee? You’re the one I just traveled across country with.” He rushed her and pressed her up against the RV again, forcing her to look at him. She worried he’d find doubt in her eyes. “You’re the one who danced in the desert for me. You’re the one I’m in love with, damn it! Don’t you know that?”
One for the Road Page 24
