Leave it to his mother to take matters into her own hands and not consult him. It was just like her…nosy bitch.
Sitting at the table drinking his second cup of coffee, he looked up to see her standing before him. Still the most beautiful woman in Cedar Creek, Rachael was a vision, all five feet six inches of her, wearing low-cut jeans and a soft powder-blue V-neck angora sweater that hugged her curves, accentuating her tiny waist. With her hair flowing around her, he noticed that she even put on a little makeup. She stood before him. The smile that she only ever wore was a fake one, never quite reaching her eyes, but he was thankful anyway. “Hey, beautiful.” He watched her walk over to the cupboard, grabbing a coffee cup.
“Hey yourself. Did you save me any?”
“A fresh pot just for you.”
“Thanks, Chris.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, looking into his cup. He watched as Rachael poured herself a cup and sat next to him. Sitting there quietly drinking their coffee, neither of them said a thing.
“Rachael,” Chris said after ten minutes.
“Hmm.”
“We have to get going, honey. You ready?”
She just stared off into nothing, drinking her coffee and taking her time.
Rachael started thinking. Why couldn’t everyone just leave her alone? That was all she wanted. She hated being the lonely widow that everyone pitied. “Look, there she is, the poor darling. She needs to start living again. She needs a man. She is wilting away.” Rachael had heard it all and many more. It was one thing to live in a town where everyone knew you and your business, but it was another to live in a town where they all talked as if you didn’t exist. All she ever asked for was to be left alone, such a simple request…a request that was never honored.
Today was going to be another one of those horrible days for her, and she knew it. She was going into town.
Once the last drop went smoothly down her throat, she got up, walked over to the back door, and put on her boots. “Let’s go.”
* * * *
The Cedar Creek courthouse was packed. Nearly the whole town showed up, just to see if Judge Clark would give Rachael Mason her license back. It had become something of a new tradition here in Cedar Creek, watching the farce that was about to happen. Many of the townsfolk disagreed with the way the judge was handling the whole situation, but that was something they all kept to themselves. Judge Clark wasn’t a man that any of them wanted on their bad side.
Those who arrived hoped the judge would give in and do the right thing. The town knew she just needed someone give her a second chance, but every time the judge was willing to do it, she would pitch a fit, cursing the old man to hell, and walk out. She knew about the pleas from the sheriff, stating that she was just acting out in the hopes that she wouldn’t get her license back, but regardless, she was scared. But the judge didn’t want to hear it. He had told the sheriff in confidence, “She can either be respectful in my courthouse and show me the respect that is deserved, or I will continue to refuse her license.”
As Chris pulled into the parking lot, he shut the engine off and turned to Rachael. “Please, honey, be good today,” he begged.
Rachael just turned, sticking her tongue out at him. “I am always good.” Laughing devilishly, she got out of the squad car and headed straight into the courthouse.
“Oh, this is going to be a fun, fun day!” he said, hurrying to catch up to her. As he was walking, Jimmie caught up with him and smiled.
“Did you bring it?” Chris asked.
“I brought the whole damn roll just in case.” Jimmie laughed.
“Good, ’cause I think we just might need it.”
* * * *
The courtroom was standing room only. The walls were white paneled. Two light oak tables stood in front of the large mahogany desk, with the Texas state flag on the wall behind it. It was just another room to Rachael.
She remembered playing in the corner next to the big, dark desk while her mother sat out in the office taking calls. She once loved this room, loved everything about justice. She would watch the judge swing his gavel down and would laugh at those who tried to explain their cases, knowing that the judge would see right through them. She knew that nobody could put one over on the judge. Not ever.
As she walked over to the defendant’s desk, the courtroom got quiet. She held her head high, found her seat, and refused to sit. She was standing behind the chair when Chris came in, running his hand through his hair. Shaking his head, he walked over to Rachael. “Please sit.”
“No thank you,” she replied calmly.
“Fine, just stand there,” he said. Annoyed, he took a seat in the chair behind her.
The bailiff, Craig Winters, walked into the courtroom, looking like he had just finished off a box of Krispy Kremes. “Please rise, the honorable Judge Clark presiding,” he bellowed.
In walked the man whom Rachael despised more than life itself. Standing nearly six-two and strong as an ox, he coolly made his way to his desk. Before sitting, he looked over to Rachael and smiled, setting her blood boiling. “Be seated,” he said with a firm voice. “What’s on the docket today, Craig?’ the judge asked, turning to the bailiff.
“You know damn well what’s on the docket, Dad,” Rachael said, firmly looking at her father. Chris sighed and put his face in his hands as the crowd started to snicker.
“Well, Rachael. I do love our quarterly meetings,” he said smugly, sitting into his leather wingback chair. “Let’s get this side show over so these folks can get back to work, shall we?”
“Yes, by all means. We are really putting a burden on the town’s financial state,” she replied sarcastically.
“Well, Rachael, I see that you have abided by the terms of your probation this quarter. Unless the sheriff has any objections, I don’t see any problem reinstating your driver’s license.”
Rachael froze.
She quickly looked back at Chris, who immediately found something interesting on the popcorn ceiling above the courtroom, trying to avoid the wrath that he knew was coming.
She was livid.
Fury was running rapid through her veins, but most of all, she was scared.
“You didn’t tell him?” she screamed, getting his attention.
Chris looked at the scared woman before him and took a deep breath. He had to do this. It was for her own good. She may not see it today. Hell, she may not see it ever, but it was what needed to be done. Sitting straight up and eyeing her head-on, he said, “Nope. So just turn around and shut up.”
“Is there something wrong, Sheriff?” the judge asked.
“No, Judge, everything’s fine,” Chris quickly responded.
“Well then…” the judge began.
“I was driving three days ago, and the sheriff failed to tell you,” she said, interrupting her father.
“Well, Rachael, that might very well be. But I don’t have a report here stating that. So as far as I am concerned, you have abided by your punishment. I am going to reinstate your license.”
“You can’t do that!” she screamed.
“Excuse me.”
“You heard me, you old bastard! You can’t give me back my license,” she yelled as her heart began to race. She had to do something.
Chris had tricked her.
Rachael knew her father. The judge always followed the letter of the law. Unless Chris filed a report, she was going to get her license back. She had to stop this quickly.
“Watch that mouth, young lady. You are coming very close to contempt,” he yelled firmly, pointing his gavel at her.
Chris quickly jumped up behind her, holding onto her shoulders, trying to get her to calm down.
“Get your fuckin’ hands off me,” she screamed, pulling free from his grasp. Turning her wrath toward her father, she screamed, “Look, you son of a bitch, you can’t give me back that license. I don’t want it. I was driving three days ago. Jimmie saw me, and so did Chris. So get off your lazy ass and
do your goddamned job.”
Jimmie quickly handed Chris a long gray strip. “Good luck,” he whispered.
Chris whirled her around to face him. Before she could say anything, he took the piece of duct tape and placed it over her mouth. Leaning down, wrapping his arms around her legs, he threw her over his shoulders and started walking out of the court room. “Go ahead, Judge,” Chris said as he slowly carried her toward the double doors.
The courtroom erupted in laughter.
Rachael was mortified. She had been deceived, and now she was being carried out like a sack of potatoes. She knew the town would be talking about this for years to come.
Pounding on Chris’s back, she tried to break free from his tight hold on her. Every time she tried to arch up, his hand would come down hard on her ass. She fought as best as she could, listening as the audience in the courtroom laughed, but when Judge Clark began to talk, she halted.
“By order of Cedar Creek, in the great State of Texas, I hereby reinstate the driver’s license of Rachael Marie Mason, effective immediately.”
As those words were said, Chris felt Rachael’s body go lifeless. Those words stopped Chris in his tracks. He turned and tipped his hat to the judge, “Thanks, Judge.”
* * * *
Standing quietly in the corner of the courtroom, Michael watched her. There was something about this woman that nagged at him, something that gripped him hard, demanding that he protect her. He watched as she stood ram-rod straight, no unnecessary movements, as if she was waiting to unleash her rage. He knew it was coming, anyone could see that, but it was not just her anger that caught him. Though she looked ready for battle, her body language suggested she looked defeated. Her shoulders slumped, even though she held her head high.
Michael continued to listen and watch as the courtroom laughed as Rachael began to shout profanities at the sheriff and judge. But it was when the sheriff placed his hands upon her that Michael’s body went on alert. A strong sense of ownership grasped him hard, as if his body was trying to him something. Michael stepped forward, almost to protect the woman, when the sheriff threw her tiny body over his shoulder like a rag doll, not caring if he hurt her or not. Michael was stunned when he actually heard himself snarl.
Taking a deep breath, Michael tried desperately to control his new emotions, fading once again into the background. Never in his life had he seen such a display. It was all quite comical. But something in the way she looked and spoke made him think otherwise. What was it that she feared? Why did she fight so hard to stop this proceeding? And why in the hell did he react so protectively?
Making his way out with the rest of the crowd, he listened to the women talking.
“It’s about time the judge did the right thing.”
“I don’t know about that, Clara. That woman is still hell-bent.”
“I know, but who could blame her? After losing her family like that, I probably would have tried to kill myself, too. It was an awful accident.”
“Well, she has it back now. Think she’ll try again?”
“Don’t know? Kenny told me she was getting better. Hell, it’s been two years already.”
“Time doesn’t heal everything, Clara.”
“Got that right.” The two women continued to talk as they left the courtroom.
* * * *
Walking over to his truck, he heard her yelling at the sheriff. She was hitting him and cursing him to the devil.
Man, did she have a temper on her.
Leaning against his truck, he watched. For just a little bitty thing, she was ferocious. He had to give it to the sheriff. He just stood there. Not once did he get angry. He thought for sure when she hauled off and slapped him across the face, the sheriff would have arrested her, but he didn’t. The sheriff just stood there like a statue, expressionless. She said one last thing to him before turning and walking off in the opposite direction. The sheriff walked around his squad car and got in.
Oh, Michael knew he had his work cut out for him now. How in the hell was he ever going to get this wild woman to trust him? How could he help someone who doesn’t want any help? Well, he knew he better come up with something because she may not know it now, but soon she was going to need all the help she could get.
Chapter 3
It was early morning when Michael headed out to start putting up the fence around the property. He had been in Cedar Creek for almost a month now, and besides the little disturbance from Rachael when they all moved in, all was extremely quiet. Henry was enrolled in high school, quickly making friends, and eager to find a summer job. So far, there were no signs of trouble, but everything was too quiet. It was just a matter of time.
As Michael made his way out to the north perimeter, he watched the sun begin to rise. Slowing the truck to a stop, he got out to watch the sunrise. Standing there looking at the beautiful sight, he began to think of his days growing up in Montana. How he and his father would get up early in the morning, have coffee together, and then head out to survey the ranch. Michael loved growing up on Crossfire Ranch. It was one of his fondest memories.
His father was a hard bastard of a man, always grooming him and his brothers for the family business. Never once did the man attend a school play, science fair, or football game.
Money.
His sole job was to make money, and he never let his boys forget that.
When Michael decided to go to Notre Dame for college, their strenuous relationship hit a new level. His father ranted for weeks, and then one night, their fight escalated to fists being thrown. Michael left that night, turning his back on the ranch and his father.
The disagreement came to a volatile conclusion when Michael was only two months into his freshman year and he got the fateful call from his mother. A girl he had known about in high school was pregnant. It was generally nothing new to find some girl in a precarious state, but it wasn’t that she was pregnant that got his attention. It was who his mother said was the father.
It was then that Michael made the decision to drop out of school and take care of her baby. When Henry’s mother died in childbirth, Michael’s mother called all of her sons to help. Because of the actions of one lustful night, Michael took on the responsibility of being a single father of a little boy. With help from his brothers, and his mother trying to keep the secret, Michael packed up the little infant and left.
After five years he finally managed to graduate from college from Illinois State University with a degree in engineering, and he soon took a job with one of the leading engine producers in North America. Michael had made a good life for him and his son, but always, in the back of his mind, he feared for the little boy.
It was six months ago when he received the call from his mother, saying she needed his help once again. The time for running had ended, which brought Henry and him to Texas. To observe and help if needed. Taking a deep breath, he sighed and slowly opened his eyes.
There in the distance was a beautiful black Appaloosa running fast and furious across the wide open land. Sitting on top of that magnificent creature was a creature as wild as the horse. The way she rode that animal, he could tell they were one and the same, a fearless creature who belonged to no one. Her long brown hair flew behind her as she rode that horse hard, and in a flash of the rising sun, she was gone.
Michael sat there thinking he had imagined that beautiful creature, but when he heard the horse gear up and neigh, he knew it wasn’t a mirage. Walking over to his truck, he had this funny feeling deep in his gut as he turned around to see the horse, and the woman who rode it stopped about a hundred yards in front of him.
He stood there staring at her. Her hair shined brightly in the morning light, and when she looked at him, he felt a strange case of déjà vu. He tipped his hat to her, and she quickly turned the horse, giving it a swift kick of her boot, and then they were gone.
* * * *
Michael spent the rest of the morning putting up the fence, and at one point, his son came dr
ove out to him with his lunch.
“Hey, Dad, are you hungry?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
“Guess what? I met our neighbor.” Curious, Michael looked at his son, who handed him his sandwich.
“Really?”
“Damn, Dad, she is absolutely gorgeous. Long brown hair, and her eyes, oh my god, a man can get lost in those green eyes. She came over riding this beautiful black horse and introduced herself. Her name is Rachael. She said welcome to the neighborhood.”
“Black horse, you say?” Michael said coolly to his son.
“Yes, Dad, a black horse. Are you even listening?”
“Hum,” Michael said, acting as if he wasn’t interested. Not doing it effectively, Henry knew something was up.
“Okay, spill it.”
“I saw her this morning. She was out riding her horse and stopped.”
“Did you say anything?”
“I tipped my hat.”
“You tipped your hat? Good grief, Dad, this isn’t the Wild West,” Henry said, laughing and getting back in his truck. “By the way, Wyatt Earp, I invited her for dinner.”
Michael quickly looked up, but before he could say anything, Henry was driving away. “Damn it,” he muttered under his breath. This was not how he wanted to meet Rachael Mason for the first time. But then the wheels began to turn, and he smiled.
Of course…Henry!
Michael spent the rest of the day setting posts and attaching the barbed wire. It was late when he decided to stop and head back to the house. Entering the house, he heard laughter coming from the kitchen. He shook his head, wishing his son hadn’t invited the woman to dinner. Michael walked upstairs to shower and clean up.
* * * *
“So…how do you like Cedar Creek so far, Henry?” Rachael said, standing at the counter tearing apart lettuce.
“Oh it’s great. I have made a lot of friends. Everyone is so nice. It’s so much quieter than Chicago,” he replied, throwing three steaks on the grill.
Joyce, Rebecca - The Cattle Drive [The Armstrong Brothers of Cedar Creek] (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 3
