by Jodi Thomas
“Well, when you think of it and get all mad again, warn me that temper of yours is coming, would you, Rea? I’m injured, you know; I might need a little more time than usual to get out of range.”
She giggled and fought the urge to hit him.
The sheriff came into the room and handed Reagan two drinks and then ordered Noah back into his bed. “Mom says you’re to stay in bed until tomorrow morning.”
“I’m all right, Alex. I swear. I can’t stand all this resting. It’s driving me nuts.”
Reagan saw the pain in his movements as he followed his sister’s orders even as he protested.
“Now stay there.” The sheriff pointed her finger at him.
“I have to get back to my office and talk to someone. I don’t have time to nurse you and referee for Mom and Dad, so don’t call me like it’s some kind of great emergency again.” She pulled a chair from the desk and put it beside the bed. “Your friend can stay ten minutes, no more.” Alex looked at Reagan. “He needs rest.”
Reagan nodded. “Ten minutes.”
Alex left, and they listened to her bounding down the stairs and out the door. Whatever or whoever was in her office, she couldn’t wait to get back to it.
“Where does it hurt?” Reagan asked.
“Everywhere,” he admitted. “And if that’s not bad enough, my mom and dad have been taking turns yelling at me. My mom tells me what I’m not going to do, and my dad tells me how I’m going to do it next time. They’re downstairs in the kitchen now having coffee and talking about me. If you hear yelling, run. I called Alex and begged her to drop by just to check on them. Once in a while when it gets quiet like this, I worry that one of them has finally choked the other into silence.”
Reagan laughed. “It couldn’t be that bad.”
“You don’t know. They’re both hardheaded and stubborn. Mom thinks she knows all about raising kids and takes every injury we get personally. Dad just thinks he knows everything, period.”
“But they both love you.”
Noah shrugged. “I guess, but lying around the house is more of a pain than being bruised.” He settled his arm over a pillow and studied her. “We friends again, Rea?”
“Yes.” She smiled. “But I’m not here to listen to you complain. If you climb on those bulls, you got to figure sometime one of them is going to stomp on you. I’ve calculated that with no more brains than you have, you won’t suffer much damage to the head, and the rest will probably heal. But if you’re going to complain, stop riding bulls.”
“Thanks for coming just to cheer me up.” Noah rubbed the spot between his eyebrows. “You’re not thinking of going into nursing, are you? A fellow could die real easy with your bedside manner.”
She giggled. “Anytime, and no, I’m not thinking of going that direction, but with you for a friend I’d probably get lots of practice in. Want to hear what’s happening at school?”
“Sure.” He leaned back and closed his eyes. “And don’t leave out any conversations you heard about me.”
She told him everything she could think of that had happened in the two days of school he’d missed. When she got to what the cafeteria was serving, she noticed his long slow breaths and knew he was asleep.
She glanced at the door and saw the tall, thin man who’d saved Noah from the bull standing in the doorway. Part of her felt like she was looking at Noah thirty years from now. Same blue eyes, same unruly hair, same long frame.
“You’re my son’s friend,” the stranger said in a low voice that rumbled like faraway thunder. “The one he calls Rea.”
Reagan nodded.
“You want me to try to talk him out of riding?” he asked.
It was a strange but honest question, and she answered directly. “No.”
“Why not?” He leaned against the frame of the door as if he had all the time in the world to talk to her.
“He loves it. It’s in his blood. It’s all he thinks about. Maybe it’s not fair to shatter a dream, even one that knocks him around now and then.”
“So, Rea.” He said her name slowly like Noah did when he was talking and thinking at the same time. “What should I do? His mother wants me to tell him rodeoing is finished.”
Reagan stood. “Teach him to ride. All he’s ever had was a weeklong camp last summer in San Angelo. You could teach him more. I know you probably think he’ll stop if you don’t show much interest, but he’ll never stop. He wants to go all the way to the top.”
Adam McAllen looked at her a moment, then nodded. “I’ll give it a try, kid, but you got to promise me you’ll be there for him when he falls. No matter what I teach him, if he rides, he’ll tumble.”
She had the feeling they were making a pact. “I’ll try.”
He straightened. “That’s all any of us can do. Try. Sometimes I think it’s not the winning or the losing, or even the right and wrong of things, it’s the trying that makes us keep on living and hoping.”
She heard the toot of Uncle Jeremiah’s horn. “I have to go; my uncle is back.”
“Tell Truman that Adam McAllen said thanks. He’ll know what I mean.”
“All right.” She ran down the stairs. “I’ll come back tomorrow.”
“You do that,” he said from the landing.
When she climbed in beside Jeremiah, she told him what Adam McAllen had said.
“What’d you do that he thanked you for?”
“Don’t remember,” Jeremiah answered, and Reagan knew he was lying.
That meant she’d probably never know. Not that it mattered. She was glad to know that sometime, somehow, Jeremiah had helped Adam out and that Adam was grateful. In a strange way, she admired both men for keeping it to themselves.
Someday, she decided, she’d do a kindness for someone like that and never tell anyone about it. Never even expect a thank-you.
Chapter 37
HANK STOOD ACROSS THE STREET AND WATCHED TYLER being led into the sheriff’s office. The funeral director’s shoulders were rounded, his head down. He was so nervous, he stumbled over one of the steps.
Thank God Alex hadn’t handcuffed him. Hank had tried to talk her out of letting Davis bring Tyler in, but at least she hadn’t embarrassed the man in front of the entire town.
Trooper Davis was grasping at straws. He claimed Tyler fit the profile. No close family around. No solid relationships. If anyone stood to benefit from a fire, he might.
Hank didn’t buy any of it. Tyler once had family here. His roots ran deep in this town. He did have solid relationships. True, he wasn’t married or dating anyone, but then neither was Hank, and no one was arresting him. And last, after Hank had seen the careful way Tyler closed the body bags of burn victims over the years, he found it impossible to believe the man would start a fire just in the hopes of getting a few more bodies for funerals.
Hank was halfway across the street when Alex shot out of the building, heading toward her car.
“What’s up?” he asked, as if he had a right to know.
“I put Tyler in my office. Davis is checking in with his supervisor. He thinks the Texas Rangers need to be called in to talk to Tyler because the fires cover more than one county. He’s working his way through proper command now. I have to run home and check on Noah, then I’ll be right back.”
“What can I do?”
She hesitated. “Off the record, you can go sit in my office and make sure Davis doesn’t question or harass Tyler while I’m gone. Irene will stand her ground, but Davis might try to pull rank and bully her. I don’t want him talking to Tyler about anything before I get back.”
She was gone before he could ask how he could stop Davis. Tying up an officer of the law wouldn’t work. Slugging had some appeal, but it would only bring more trouble. Davis was the kind of man who wore on people. If he decided to deck the guy, he’d probably have to get in line.
Hank ran up the steps, deciding he’d stop Davis even if he had to start shouting that there was a green alien in Harmon Ely
’s old tree out front. If Davis had to lock him up for being nuts, it would give Alex time to get back.
When he walked into the secretary’s office, Irene surprised Hank by handing him a tray. “Would you take this in to Mr. Wright? I’m on guard, but I thought he might enjoy a cup of coffee and some of my banana bread. The poor dear looks upset about something.”
Hank had been in this office every day for more than a week, and Irene had never offered him banana bread. “Any way I might have a cup of coffee, too?” He smiled but knew it was wasted. Irene Lewis wasn’t a woman easily charmed out of her banana bread.
“I’ll bring you one when I have time.” She pointed him toward Alex’s office.
Hank found Tyler sitting at the round table by the window, looking like a man waiting for his last meal.
He frowned when he saw Hank. “They brought you in, too?”
Hank shrugged, playing along with Tyler’s assumption. “I was told to wait in here until the sheriff got back.” He hated seeing his friend so upset and tried to cheer him up. “Should we start planning our escape? I’m not sure what we did, but I hear the Rangers are riding in after us.”
Tyler smiled and let his hands uncoil from the arms of his chair. “I’m sure they just want to ask us questions.” He seemed to be talking more to himself than Hank. “Everything will be settled in no time and we’ll be home for dinner.”
Hank played along as he passed Tyler the cup. “I am worried. Trooper Davis isn’t friendly on a good day, and today must be one of his worst.”
“I know what you mean.” Tyler took a piece of Irene’s bread from the little plate. “I swear I thought he was going to handcuff me. Imagine that.” He took a bite and seemed to breathe in the bread. “I always love Irene’s banana bread.”
Hank grabbed a slice and downed it whole before he added, “Me, too.”
Irene hurried in with a cup of coffee for him, then hurried out, closing the door behind her. Hank thought he heard Davis’s voice just as the door closed.
“What do you think they got the couple of us for?” Hank asked.
Tyler was back to his pleasant self. “I have little idea. Sometimes on the back roads I drive seventy-five.”
“Most of the time I go about eighty. When I get a ticket, I always consider it supporting the highway system.”
Tyler relaxed in his chair. “Alex said something about asking me questions, though I can’t see how I could help her with anything she’s working on.”
Hank’s mind finally put the pieces together. “You know the back roads, Tyler. You study maps. Maybe she needs your expert skill.” As he said the words, something else became perfectly clear: Tyler drove the back roads following maps, not setting fires. If he crisscrossed this part of the country, it was only logical he’d be seen near the fires.
“I’m not an expert. Half the time I get lost and spend an hour trying to find my way back to a road sign.” He took another slice of bread and leaned back. “I do find some interesting trails, though. For example, the other day I found the markings of an old wagon road across the back of your place. It might have been used to haul off all the buffalo bones left lying around after the buffalo hunters came through. Back behind your house is a ravine that could have trapped hundreds of buffalo. Hunters could have shot them, stripped their hides, and left their carcasses rotting. By the time this land was settled, there would have been nothing but bleached bones left.”
Hank also took another piece of bread. “I think I remember my grandfather telling me about when he was a boy, how his father had hauled away bones to buy supplies the first winter after he inherited the land from old Ely. I’ll never look at my back door again and just see the sunset.”
Tyler laughed. “I heard Ely left the three families land, but no money. Some say he gambled the last of his cash away the week before he died, and the gambler who won it left town the morning of Ely’s funeral.”
“That’s probably right. They say the Trumans came from Virginia and brought some valuables with them, but the Mathesons and the McAllens were dirt poor, working for what the old man paid them. Ely had land, but they say he spent most of what he had had trying to build a town around his trading business.” Hank knew they were talking about something they both had heard every detail of, but sometimes it’s calming just to talk.
Tyler seemed to feel the same way.
Hank was relieved to hear Alex in the outer office yelling at Davis. She was back, and she’d straighten out this mess.
Tyler was telling Hank about trails he’d found where old Model Ts had hauled dynamite out of a few sites where men had drilled for oil in the thirties when Hank felt his cell phone vibrate. He flipped open the cover and put it to his ear.
“Chief!” There was no mistaking Willie’s excited voice. “Derwood spotted smoke in the canyon.”
“How long ago?” Hank stood, shouting so loud Willie could probably hear him from across the street. He wouldn’t need the phone.
The kid rattled on about how fire would climb the walls of the canyon. It could come out anywhere. They were fighting a monster now.
“Breathe, damn it, Willie,” Hank shouted. “Get your gear on and make sure the call goes out to every volunteer. We’ll need every man. Do you understand, every man!” For this fire, they’d need the dozen who always showed up and the thirty who never managed to make it.
He realized he was firing orders far too fast for Willie.
“I’ll be right there.” Hank closed the phone, tossed it on a pile of maps and papers, and stared out at the cloudless sky. Hank couldn’t see a hint of smoke, but he could feel trouble moving in fast.
Tyler joined him at the window. “Fire?”
Hank nodded. “I’ve got to go.” He hated the thought of leaving Tyler. On impulse, he turned and grabbed his friend’s arm. “I’ll be back. This will all get straightened out.”
Tyler nodded. “Don’t worry about me. You be safe.”
When Hank exited through the outer office, everyone already knew there was fire in the canyon, and they were darting around and yelling. Andy was on dispatch, but he tossed a radio at Hank as he passed.
“I’ll be there as soon as I can, Chief,” Andy shouted.
“I’ve got to help clear the calls first.”
Hank nodded. Andy was always at fires; he’d be there as soon as he could pass the dispatcher duties along.
Hank brushed Alex’s side with his hand, and she turned into him close. One look told him he didn’t need to tell her how serious this might be.
“Let Tyler go,” Hank whispered.
She shook her head. “Davis wants him locked up immediately. The best I can do is insist he stay in my office.”
“Why? He couldn’t have set this fire.” Without turning loose of her, he began moving toward the door.
“Maybe not this one, but the others.” Alex’s voice was tight, as if she hated saying the words. “The state crime team found a quarter at three of the sites, and we both know he always carries quarters in his pockets.”
“Pretty flimsy evidence.” They were at the windy front door. Hank filled his lungs, swearing he could now smell trouble rolling in over the dry air. “Every man has change in his pockets.”
“Not change. Only quarters.”
“It’s not enough to hold a man for arson.”
“I know, but Davis thinks it’s enough for a long talk.”
“Then lock him up in your office.” He tugged her closer for a fraction of a second before he let go and stepped out into the sun.
“I’ll meet you at the canyon,” she said.
He ran across the street, through the dry heat and dirt-filled wind whirling around him.
Chapter 38
REAGAN TURNED HER CHAIR TOWARD JEREMIAH’S AND handed the old man one of the ice creams she’d bought when she’d done the shopping.
“What’s this?” he grumbled.
“Ice cream on a stick,” she answered. “Don’t tell me you’ve ne
ver had it.”
“Never thought to ask for it.” He stared at the treat as if he were about to accuse her of poisoning him. “Why’d you buy it?” He took a bite.
Reagan thought for a moment, then said, “Where I’ve lived before, there were never enough of these to go around. There would always be a few of these good kind and lots of flavored frozen water. By the time the box got passed to me, all that was ever left was frozen water.”
“Do you like frozen water?”
“No.”
“What did you hate most about those places you lived?” He looked at her as if truly listening for once.
“I hated having to say thank you for everything given me. New clothes, used clothes, even the food on my plate. I was supposed to be grateful. And I was,” she rushed on, “but sometimes they weren’t giving it to me, they were just giving stuff away and I was handy.”
He was silent for so long, she wondered if he’d dozed off, and then he said, “Buy more of these ice creams when you go to the store. In fact, keep the freezer stocked with them until you get good and tired of them.”
“All right.” She giggled.
“And get some of that frozen pizza I’ve seen. We need to keep it on stock for that boy who keeps coming around. I’ve heard it’s fattening, and he could use some meat on his bones.”
“All right.” In all the weeks he’d never told her what to buy. He’d always said to buy the supplies she thought they needed. Now he was turning in an order for junk food.
Noah’s pickup rattled down the lane at about half the speed he normally drove.
Reagan stood in alarm.
She watched as Noah pulled up close to their chairs and slowly climbed out of the truck. He didn’t look any better than he had when she’d seen him after school.
“What are you doing here?” Reagan ran and pulled the old green wicker rocker off the porch. It was all they had with pillows in it.
He slowly folded into the chair. “I needed to talk to you, and you two don’t have a phone between you.”
