by Saylor Bliss
“I’m not here about Travis,” I said, stepping forward. “You know, you and I always had an understanding. When you aren’t drunk, you’re actually not unlikable.”
Bull snorted and rolled his eyes. The stiffness in his shoulders eased until he was slouching. For a split second, I thought I caught a tinge of regret in the big man’s eyes, before his expression became wary.
“I know I’ve done some things that weren’t right. I shouldn’t have come to your place Sunday when I was drunk.”
“No, you shouldn’t have come by at all. You have a wife… and a son you love at home.”
Bull’s head snapped up. A distinct flicker of pain entered his eyes, but he said nothing.
“Bull, I’ve heard the rumors. I know what people think about Wyatt and you. But I know you love him. He may or may not really be your nephew, but he’s your son in every way it counts.”
He moved stiffly back to his cot, lowering himself onto it with a grunt. He sat staring at his hands, clasped between his knees. They were swollen and abraded. Did the sight bring back memories of pounding them into Travis? I didn’t even bother to stem my satisfaction at his injuries or the obvious physical and emotional pain. He deserved it and more.
But I hadn’t come to gloat.
“Wanda came to see me at Valentine’s this afternoon.”
Bull tensed then drew several deliberate breaths. His lips drew into a thin line, as if holding in words he’d rather not say.
“She told me she and Wyatt need you at home.”
Bull lifted a shoulder and let it fall. “And you’re gonna tell me I should have thought of that before I beat the shit out of your man.”
“Nope. I don’t have to. You just told yourself.” I shook my head. “Bull, she said things aren’t like most people think, and she said you protect her and Wyatt somehow.”
He shrugged again and sniffed. “She doesn't know what she’s talking about. She ain’t always right in the head. The fact is, living with me has been bad for her. She and the boy should go home to her folks.”
His reaction didn’t come close to what I’d been expecting. Maybe a different tack was in order, given his obvious apathy regarding Wanda.
“Not long after Wanda’s visit, Wyatt showed up looking for work. I hired him for the day to clean my floors.” I raised an eyebrow. “Do you have any problem with that?”
Staring at the floor, Bull drew a deep breath, blew it out. “No,” he said in a low voice. “No, that’s not a problem for me. You always did fair by him.”
So, he does care about the boy.
“He has burns on his left arm. Fresh ones. He wants me to think he got them fighting the fire at the McGee ranch.”
Tension showed once more in his shoulders and neck, but he said nothing, didn’t even look up.
Ugh! I hated the feeling of pulling teeth. But I pressed on. “Thing is, when I saw Wanda today, she had burns on her arms, too, only not as fresh. And she wasn’t fighting the fire at Travis’s place. Bull, Wyatt’s also got old burn scars. The kind a person might get from the end of a cigarette.”
A muscle worked in his jaw and he clamped his mouth shut. For a moment I was certain he was just going to close down and shut me out. He pushed to his feet, rose to his full height without slumping, and stood with his damaged fists clenched.
“How fresh?” he demanded, his words strangled. For the first time since I had entered the jail, he met my gaze directly.
I wasn’t prepared to feel sympathy for the deep suffering reflected in his eyes. But there it was. Where in heaven’s name had that come from?
I held his attention as I spoke, making sure to keep my voice level. “Hours old. I didn’t see much of Wanda’s arm because she’s hiding it. She said she spilled some hot water. But Wyatt’s looked really fresh, at least six of them.”
“Do you know where my mother was when Wanda was talking to you?”
“Phyllis?” Frowning, I shook my head. “Wanda didn’t say. Why?”
Bull’s fingers worked agitatedly, flexing and releasing. “I need to talk to DC.”
“Bull, what is it? Does Wanda hurt Wyatt?” I paused, watching him closely for his reaction. “Or does your father hurt them both?”
Bull jerked upright. “I need to talk to DC.” Shaking his head, he clamped his mouth shut. He was done talking.
“Okay. I’ll ask Stella to call him for you.” I walked away from the bars and waited for the state trooper to let me out of the confinement area.
“Christine,” Bull called out as the trooper inserted his key in the lock. His next words seemed to be ripped from his mouth. “Wanda’s right. It’s not like everyone thinks. And Wyatt… he’s not my nephew.” He watched my face closely. “He’s not my son, either. But I do love him like he was my own. And if Mac would have known about him, he wouldn’t have stayed with McGee.”
He turned away just as the trooper opened the door. I hesitated but then sighed and stepped through the opening. I wouldn’t get any more from Bull, and what I’d gotten had only managed to raise more questions.
Chapter Forty-Four
Christine
Some detective I was! I pulled Justin’s truck into my parking spot behind Valentine’s and shut it down, convinced I’d just wasted an hour of my life. Not only had I not discovered anything new, I’d added to my list of questions. And I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d just stirred a pot of some kind. Hopefully nothing too stinky.
I slid from the cab, thinking about Bull’s last statement. If Mac had known about Wyatt, he wouldn’t have stayed with Travis? Was he implying Travis was somehow responsible for Wyatt? That made no sense. Travis wouldn’t have done anything with Mac’s girl. It just wasn’t in him.
But what could Bull have meant, then? I slipped through the kitchen with a wave for JV, and found Sissy on the floor, delivering a meal to an older couple sitting near the door.
With a light laugh, Sissy left my customers to their food and carried the tray back to the bar. “Wyatt’s a hard worker,” I said with a nod toward the jukebox where he lingered, trying —and failing —to look as though he wasn’t watching them. Sissy slid the empty serving tray onto the stack behind the bar. “He finished the floors and cleaned the men’s bathroom, too. Seems like a good kid.”
I motioned for the teenager to join them. “Would you be interested in working dinners, doing light food prep? Mrs. Charlotte could use help in the kitchen three days a week, Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays, maybe three hours a day. We’re closed on Sundays. But you can pick up extra shifts cleaning on Wednesdays if you want.”
Sissy’s eyebrows shot up.
Wyatt’s eyes widened in surprise. A hopeful grin splashed across his face. “Are you giving me a job?”
I nodded, smiling. “Looks like. How old are you?”
“Going on sixteen.”
So still only fifteen. “Okay, we can work with that. You aren’t allowed behind the bar or in the liquor storeroom for any reason. You can’t even move a hand truck with anything alcoholic on it or stack cases of anything alcoholic. I don’t even want you to look sideways at anything with alcohol in it, and you can’t bus tables if there’s been drinking. I’ll lose my liquor license if you don’t follow those rules.”
Wyatt’s blue eyes widened, taking over his pale freckled face. His voice shook with what might be hope. “You trust me?”
Something twisted in my heart, and I knew I was doing the right thing. “I do, Wyatt. I know you won’t let me down. I’m only paying minimum wage to start but if you prove yourself, I’ll bump you up by a dollar in six weeks. When you go back to school, we can adjust your hours any way you need to.”
Wyatt looked at the floor. “I was… I wasn’t going to go back to school.”
I shook my head briskly. “No, that’s a deal breaker. If you don’t stay in school, you can’t work past the end of summer.”
Wyatt’s head popped up. His hands balled into fists but he slowly relaxed them. E
motions worked on his face, astonishment battling with fear.
“I’m not going to give you the school-is-important lecture.” I smiled, aware I had his attention even though he wouldn’t look directly at me. “But it is. If there’s a reason you can’t go back, I want you to come talk to me about it by next week. Otherwise, when school starts, if you stay in school, you can keep your job and I’ll give you an extra fifty cents an hour.”
Sissy choked on something but I ignored her, keeping my eyes on Wyatt while he fought his inner battle.
He swallowed hard. Finally he looked at me and nodded. “Okay.”
“Good.” I held out my hand.
With a slight hesitation, Wyatt took it and the deal was sealed.
“We need to get one of your parents to sign a work permit, since we serve alcohol here,” said I. “I can talk to your mom if you want.”
The cautious optimism drained from his face. “She won’t do it.”
The front door opened and DC was momentarily silhouetted against the late afternoon light filtering from outside. I watched him search the room, and wondered if he was about to let me have it for my visit to Bull.
“I’ll talk to your mom, Wyatt. I’ll convince her.” I laid a hand on his good arm. His flinch when I touched him cut my emotions to ribbons. “Excuse me, I need to talk to DC.”
“Hello, Christine,” said DC. “How’s Travis?”
“He’s a little sore, but better. I’m picking him up early tomorrow morning.”
“I hear you dropped by the jail for a visit today.”
“I’m sorry you weren’t there, DC. I didn’t go to harass Bull. I just needed to ask him something.”
DC negated my need to apologize with an easy wave of his hand. “It’s okay. The man’s allowed visitors and he agreed to see you. But he had some things to say to me after you left, and now I need to speak to the boy.”
“Wanda was here this morning.” Quickly I related the incident, describing my brief glimpse of the burn on the woman’s arm. “DC… the other day I bumped into Phyllis MacKay at the drug store. She dropped some of her purchases and I helped her pick them up. She had a carton of Reds and a six-pack of Black Mountain.”
He snorted. “You think old Phyllis MacKay is out starting fires in hay fields? Or whizzing on your truck and slashing tires?” DC shook his head. “Lots of folks smoke those cigarettes and drink that beer, Christine. And in case you don’t remember, whizzing wasn’t the only thing done on your truck.”
I leveled an unblinking stare at the sheriff. His eyes sparked with recognition. The brand names meant something to him. “Just telling you what I saw,” I said coolly. “Phyllis said the Reds were for Wanda.”
DC nodded and sighed heavily. “I’m sorry, Christine. Things are edgy here. Thanks for letting me know. I’ll add it into my notes. Right now, Bull asked me to look in on his wife and boy, and that’s what I’m doing.”
For the first time in my life, when my morning alarm went off, I was already out of bed and in the shower. I agonized in front of the closet. Wear something sexy, he’d said. But sexy what? Practical and sexy or feminine and sexy?
“Oh, screw practical.” I pulled out one of my sexiest dresses. Sliding it over my head, I shimmied to adjust the fit, then regarded myself critically in the full-length mirror. The dress was outrageously short. Sheer black material splashed with tiny red and tan flowers lay over a black satin slip. A peasant style neckline connected to ballooning sleeves that started off the shoulder and fell to my wrists. The fabric was loose but clingy in all the right places and I did a happy dance, watching in the mirror as the fabric swished and swirled around my bare thighs. I was already picturing the gleam Travis would have in his eyes when he saw me.
After fastening an elaborate braid of shiny red beads around my neck, I slid on a matching bracelet. My hair I pulled into a messy, loose ponytail and secured with a filmy red scarf, the style Travis seemed to have so much fun undoing. Next I added subtle makeup. Finally I slipped into my favorite red Western boots.
I twirled in front of my full-length mirror, happy with the result.
“Girlfriend, you are quite the trollop,” I said to my reflection. My appearance sent a definite message of my sensual intent, and I hoped Travis was up to the things he’d promised in his phone message. If he wasn’t, I certainly could improvise. I smiled and my heart tripped in happy anticipation. He’d obviously made peace with my revelation about Mac.
The soft knock on my door bumped my pulse up a notch, and I took a moment to settle my nerves. Bull was in jail. I was safe. Still, I peeked through the window. When I saw Sissy’s cap of pale hair, her muscles sagged in relief.
“Hey, I left my storeroom keys at home —whoa!” Sissy stared. “That’s hot! Are you sure you want to risk giving your man a heart attack? He is just getting out of the hospital.”
“And I intend to bring him all the way to a full recovery.” I grabbed a set of keys from a hook near the door and tossed them to Sissy. “Thanks for waiting on the deliveries.”
With a laugh, Sissy dragged me toward the door. “Go get him. And by all means, do everything I wouldn’t do.” I grinned. “Just be ready to tell me all about it.”
Excitement sent out tiny ripples as I climbed into the truck. The sun had already begun to heat the air, but the days of oppressive heat were still a month off. I opened the windows in the cab, thrilled by the wind whipping through my hair. It was almost as good as riding across the plain on Cloud’s back.
I cranked the radio up and sang along with the variety of popular country artists, as the red pickup began to eat up the miles to Jackson. Too bad I hadn’t driven Travis’s hot little sports car. That machine probably took these mountain curves without slowing down.
I saw the white truck as I rounded another curve, parked not quite far enough off the road to be safe. Pulling in front of the disabled truck, I stopped and jumped to the ground.
The door to the other truck pushed open and Phyllis MacKay hopped out, a look of profound relief on her face. I groaned inwardly, almost wishing I hadn’t stopped. Phyllis had always been a bit distant and lately was even more so. Still, it wouldn’t be right to just leave the older woman on the side of the road.
I pushed what I hoped was a friendly smile on my face. “Phyllis, what are you doing all the way up here?”
“Oh, thank God!” Phyllis wrung her hands and started babbling out her explanation. “I’ve been stuck up here for over an hour and you’re the first person I’ve seen. Wanda had one of her spells last night, and we used near all her medicine keeping her calm. I left Robert watching her so I could go to the hospital and get her prescription. But then I got this far and the truck just died. I can’t think what might be wrong with it.”
“Did you try looking under the hood?”
“Oh, I know absolutely nothing about engines. I wouldn’t even know what I’m looking at.” I made a face. “I probably wouldn’t, either. Have you tried starting it again?”
“Not for the last fifteen minutes or so.” Phyllis smiled. “The engine just turns and turns and turns. Robert’s going to kill me.”
I felt a twinge of apprehension at Phyllis’s words. I didn’t doubt Robert would be capable of killing. I thought of him at home with Wanda, and the twinge of apprehension turned into a winter-cold blast of fear. I shook it off. DC knew something was going on. Surely Robert wouldn’t hurt Wanda. Still, it would probably be best to help Phyllis get back home, just in case.
“Oh, I’m sure it’ll be okay. It’s not like you broke down on purpose. Here, let me give it a try. Maybe I’ll have better luck.”
But the engine only spun without catching, just as Phyllis had described. I went back to Justin’s truck and retrieved my cell phone from my purse.
“Hmm, no service.” I changed position, held the phone up over my head squinting at it.
“I’ve walked all around this place, even walked back down a ways,” said Phyllis. “I don’t have servic
e, either.”
I checked my watch and sighed. I was going to be late, but what could I do? “I’ll take you back to Allan’s. He can send out a tow truck.”
“Oh, no.” Phyllis shook her head in protest, but looked apprehensively around the deserted stretch of road. “I can see you’re on your way someplace. Just leave me here and as soon as you have service, you can call my husband for me.”
“Phyllis, don’t be silly. I can’t just leave you here. It’s almost an hour to Jackson.” Phyllis sighed heavily, her face troubled. Then she brightened. “Robert has a cousin who lives just a ways further up. Could you take me to his place? It’s about a mile off the main road.”
I smiled. Driving one mile out of the way beat the heck out of twenty. “Do you think he’ll be home?”
“It won’t matter. I have a key so I’ll be able to use his landline to call for help.”
“Okay.” I motioned to Justin’s truck.
Phyllis reached into the white truck and came out with an oversized purse. Offering a weak smile, she joined me.
“It’s kind of hard to spot,” said Phyllis about a mile and a half later as she peered intently at the side of the road. “There it is!” She pointed to a narrow track.
I turned left onto the tiny trail, wincing as branches scraped along the side of the truck. I wonder what a new paint job costs. “Are you sure this is it? It doesn’t look like anyone’s been along here for a long time.”
“Braden likes his privacy. He’s a little standoffish.”
That would explain why I’d never heard of Robert Senior’s cousin. Maybe. Why would anyone want to be so disconnected from humanity?
The trail narrowed. If that kept up, I’d never get the truck turned around to get out. According to the odometer, they were a little over a mile in. As it was, I’d probably have to back up half of that before I could turn. I slowed the truck to a crawl.
“I don’t know, Phyllis. It’s getting tight through here.”
