Small Town Superhero Box Set: Complete Series

by Cheree Alsop

  The sheriff nodded. “Maybe he’s not a seasoned rider.”

  “At least not on street bikes,” I replied. At their looks, I nodded toward my motorcycle near the sheriff’s car. “Dirt bikes have tires meant for off-roading. Street bikes like mine have tires that are wider, but don’t have the deep traction. The way he took the turn, it looks like he’s used to dirt bikes instead.”

  The sheriff’s eyebrows lifted. “Well, appears we might be dealing with a local. I’ve been debating whether our guys are from out of town.” He met my gaze. “Our goal is to catch these copycats.”

  “I’ll be glad to help,” I replied.

  He nodded. “And I’m anxious to clear your good name. The last thing we need is to have the FBI back here searching for you. I don’t know why they’ve given us a breather, but we don’t need to trigger their interest again.”

  His words made me think. I mused over the idea as we walked back to the vehicles. When the other deputies had gotten into their cars, I stopped the sheriff. “What if we give the FBI the Black Rider?”

  He gave me a curious look. “Why would we want to do that?”

  I gave a small shrug. “Give them what they want and clear my name at the same time.”

  His gaze tightened as he thought it over. “Whoever it is might get credit for the good as well as the bad.”

  I decided not to let that bother me. “If I don’t have to look over my shoulder, it’ll be worth it.”

  He nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Deputy Addison rolled down his window as I climbed onto my motorcycle. “I’ll meet you at your place after I get the calf.”

  “I appreciate it,” I replied.

  I glanced up in time to see the sheriff’s humored smile before he ducked into his car.

  I DROPPED THE MOTORCYCLE off at the junkyard and traded it for the four-wheeler. The Ashbys were eating dinner when I walked in. I crossed behind Mom and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

  “What’s that for?” she asked in surprise.

  I tried to keep the smile off my face, but failed. “I got you something.”

  Everyone became interested.

  “Is it a shotgun?” Cole asked.

  “Why would he give his mom a shotgun?” Jaren replied. “She can’t even kill a spider.”

  Mom rose from the table. “I’d probably kill one if I had a shotgun,” she said. Everyone laughed.

  “What did you get her?” Aunt Lauren asked with an eager smile.

  “Come see,” I invited them.

  Everyone followed Mom and me through the mudroom and out the back door. A blue truck with a horse trailer was pulling down the road. Deputy Addison was as good as his word. He drove in a circle and turned back up the road so the trailer faced the house.

  “What on earth?” Mom mused aloud.

  Aunt Lauren glanced at me. There was a twinkle in her eyes. She had one hand on her belly and the other looped through Uncle Rick’s arm. His gaze was skeptical.

  “Howdy, folks,” Deputy Addison said with a tip of his brown cowboy hat. He looked different in civilian clothes, casual in a blue plaid shirt, worn jeans, and cowboy boots. “I have a delivery for Mrs. Brady.”

  Everyone looked at Mom and me. I unhooked the latch and pulled open the door to the trailer just as a wistful little moo escaped.

  “Oh, my word!” Mom exclaimed at the sight of the black calf. It looked extra small in the middle of the big trailer. It gave another moo and walked forward on wobbly legs.

  “You bought your mom a calf?” Aunt Lauren asked.

  “Its mother died, so I thought it needed a new one,” I explained.

  The calf sniffed Mom’s fingers, then proceeded to suck on them. She laughed and sat down on the lip of the trailer. The little calf leaned against her, slurping noisily on her hand.

  Deputy Addison came back from his truck and dropped something on the ground. I glanced over to see a big bag of powdered cow’s milk. He handed me a bottle that looked big enough to feed a giant. “He’s definitely hungry,” Addison noted.

  “I wanna feed him!” Cole exclaimed.

  “Now, now, dear. He’s Aunt Sarah’s. Let her feed him,” Aunt Lauren replied.

  Mom looked from me to the bottle. “I don’t know where to start.”

  “I’ll help you,” Deputy Addison volunteered.

  Mom gave him a grateful smile and followed him into the house.

  Uncle Rick lassoed Jaren and Cole into making a little pen next to the Holsteins.

  “Don’t know why you got her a bull calf,” Uncle Rick said, adjusting a corner of the panel before Jaren looped wire through it.

  “Oh, Rick, it’ll be a fun project for her,” Aunt Lauren replied before I could speak.

  I let out a laugh. “Actually, I didn’t think to check if it was a bull or a heifer.”

  Uncle Rick just shook his head. He picked the calf up from the trailer and carried it to the little pen. The calf began to moo as soon as the gate was closed.

  Uncle Rick shook his head. “Trouble,” he muttered before he walked away.

  Aunt Lauren smiled at my worried look and put a hand on my arm. “Don’t mind him. I think he actually likes it.”

  “How can you tell?” I asked.

  Her smile deepened. “He just named it.”

  I laughed and patted the calf’s head. “Trouble,” I repeated. “I think it fits him.” The cow licked my hand with its long tongue. I wiped my fingers on my pants. “Yep.”

  Jaren pitched straw into one corner of the pen. I then helped him angle a long, flat board across the top to shelter the calf in case it rained.

  Mom and Deputy Addison came out of the house a few minutes later. Deputy Addison carried the bottle that was now full of white liquid. A smile glowed on Mom’s face as she followed him to the pen. I realized at that moment why Deputy Addison had been so helpful with the calf. I watched them carefully.

  Addison set the bottle on a cross panel of the fence, then showed Mom how to tip it so that the calf didn’t drink air bubbles. She laughed at how hungrily the animal ate. The deputy pointed out how big its ears were.

  “Dad’s already named it,” Cole said.

  “Oh, really?” Mom replied.

  When Cole told them, both Mom and Deputy Addison laughed.

  I turned away as a flood of mixed emotions filled me. A hand touched my shoulder. Aunt Lauren’s gaze was kind. “Let’s get you some dinner.”

  I followed her into the house with the sound of my mother’s laughter ringing in my ears.

  Due to my untimely interruption, Uncle Rick had broken his usual habit of dining with the family in the evenings and had carried his half-eaten plate to the living room, where he and Jaren watched basketball highlights. Aunt Lauren dished turkey roast, mashed potatoes, and a scoop of vegetables onto a plate, then poured a generous helping of gravy over the turkey and potatoes. She handed it to me with an understanding smile.

  “It’s hard to see another man make your mother laugh.”

  I thanked her for the food, then studied the plate in silence for a few minutes. She sat at her place at the table and ate quietly, giving me time to sort through my thoughts.

  I spoke with my gaze on the worn tablecloth, thinking aloud as I did. “That’s the happiest I’ve seen her since Dad left.”

  Aunt Lauren nodded. “Me too.”

  I allowed a small smile to cross my face. “I forgot how much I loved her laugh. I’ve missed it.” Mom had one of those contagious laughs that you had to join no matter what mood you were in. Hearing it again made me feel lighter, as if the move to farmland might not have been as hard on her as I feared.

  “She likes the calf.”

  I chuckled. “I thought it might help her feel like she fit in to have her own farm animal.”

  Aunt Lauren’s smile widened. “I think it just might.”

  I gave in. “I guess Deputy Addison’s not such a bad guy.”

  She shrugged, which made me smile be
cause she never shrugged. “If you like a man in uniform.”

  “I think she does.”

  “I think she does too,” Aunt Lauren replied. She reached across the table and set her hand on mine. “You’re dealing with this so maturely. I think your mom would be proud.”

  “I’m happy for her,” I told my aunt, realizing as I said it that it was true. “Zoey always wished Mom could find someone who would make her smile again the way she used to before Dad left—before everything fell apart,” I concluded, my voice dropping. I swallowed and continued, “She would be happy for Mom, so I am too.”

  There was pride on Aunt Lauren’s face when she smiled. “You continue to surprise me, Kelson.”

  I felt awkward at the compliment. I cleared my throat and held up a forkful of mashed potatoes. “Thanks for the food.”

  She smiled. “Believe it or not, your mother made those potatoes.”

  I stared at her. “And you’re still eating them?”

  She laughed. “Give her a chance. She used to be a remarkable cook.”

  I nodded. “I remember.” It was back when life had been normal, when we lived in our home instead of the apartment, before Dad left and before Zoey was killed in the fire. If we were going back that far—or jumping forward, for that matter—perhaps farm life really was good for both of us. I smiled and ate another bite of the potatoes.

  THE NEXT DAY, CASSIDY confronted me before we went into school. Sandy waved at her and promised to save her a seat in their first class.

  “What’s going on?” my cousin demanded.

  I lifted my hands, surprised at her anger. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  She glanced back at the students shuffling through the doors, then grabbed my shirt and pulled me around the side of the building.

  “Martin’s articles about the Black Rider. Are you seriously killing cows and breaking into stores?”

  I shook my head. “It’s not me, Cass. Someone is pretending to be the Black Rider. The sheriff calls them copycats. Where do you think the calf came from?”

  Her gaze softened slightly. “You mean the calf was the baby of the cow that got shot?”

  “Yes,” I said, shrugging out of her hold on the front of my shirt. “Why would I do something like that? I like cows.” I never thought I would say that. The first time Uncle Rick told me to milk his Holsteins, I wanted to shoot them myself. But something had changed to the point where I knew how to work with them. I liked the big dumb brutes.

  “So you didn’t destroy Joe’s store, or rob the gas station?”

  Her doubt hurt. I wanted to walk away. “Really, Cass. After all I’ve done, you think I would do that?”

  The pain in my tone washed the rest of the anger from her face. “I’m sorry, Kelson.”

  “If you believe it, and you know me, then the whole town must think the Black Rider’s gone off the deep end.” I wanted to hit something. I willed my muscles to relax. “I’ve got to stop these guys.”

  “Do you know who they are?”

  I shook my head.

  “Whoever it is, they’re trying to hurt you. Could it be the gangs?” she pressed.

  I shrugged. “Sheriff Bowley doesn’t think so, but he’s looking into it. We really don’t have much to go on unless we can catch one of them.”

  Concern filled her face. “If they’re trying to hurt you, they chose a good place to start.” Her voice quieted. “What if that’s their goal? To destroy everything you’ve done?”

  I gritted my teeth. “They can’t hide from the real Black Rider forever.”

  She nodded. “Then we can clear your name, and the Black Rider will be known as the protector of Sparrow once more.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Martin sure has a thing for the dramatic.”

  “Yeah,” Cassidy replied. “Let’s just hope he can start finding more good than bad to write about.”

  I followed her inside, feeling relieved that someone knew the Black Rider wasn’t at fault, but also heavier at the thought that even my own cousin had doubted me. If I didn’t uncover the copycats fast, the Black Rider’s name would be permanently damaged.

  “Hey, Cass,” I called before she could disappear through the last of the students heading to class.

  She turned back with an expectant look. “What?”

  I closed the space between us and talked quietly enough that no one would overhear. “What do you think of asking Magnum to morp?”

  She shook her head. “I already begged Dad to let me. I even told him I would do the irrigating next time, but he refused.”

  I could hear the heartbreak in her voice. An idea occurred to me. “What if I just tell Magnum not to get a date, and you don’t get a date? You and Sandy could go stag, and then he could meet you there.”

  Cassidy’s face lit up. “You think that would work?”

  I nodded. “Just tell Uncle Rick that all your friends decided to go in a big group instead of asking particular boys. That way, no one can be sad if they get rejected.”

  “It really wouldn’t be lying,” Cassidy said. “I think everyone would be happy to go as a group. Sometimes asking is the hardest part.”

  “It’s supposed to be casual anyway,” I told her.

  She nodded with a huge smile. “It’s perfect.” She gave me a tight hug. “Thank you, Kelson. You’re the best cousin ever!”

  I smiled as she ran down the hall to find Sandy.

  I PASSED THE FIRST anti-Black Rider sign on my way to English. A poster depicting a black motorcycle had a giant red slash through it. Someone had written below it, “We’ve been betrayed.” I pushed down the frustration that rose in my chest and opened the classroom door.

  “It’s not like we can’t survive without him,” a girl on the front row was saying.

  “It doesn’t make sense,” the boy behind her argued.

  “He’s flipped,” another student put in. “He got tired of playing the hero.”

  “That’s all it was,” the first girl replied. “He was playing the hero. Now he’s the villain. It’s that simple.”

  The boy shook his head. “I don’t believe it.”

  Another student set a phone on his desk as I walked past to my seat. “Read the headlines. He’s killed cows, robbed gas stations, and he broke into my grandma’s store. He’s the bad guy.”

  I slammed my book onto my desk harder than I intended. Everyone looked back at me. I slid into my seat and ignored their stares until they returned to their argument.

  The same scene happened in several more classes. More posters lined the walls, pictures drawn on notebook paper and stuck up with tape or gum. There was one of a black helmet with the words, “We don’t need him,” scrawled underneath. Another simply said, “The Black Rider wears his true colors.”

  I slumped next to Cassidy at lunch. It took several moments of pushing my tater tots around to realize she had spoken to me. I glanced at her. “What?”

  “You’re not hungry?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “I’m done.”

  She gave me a smile. “You haven’t even started, Kel. The food’s not that bad.”

  “Yeah,” Sandy replied with a piece of lettuce in her braces. “This hamburger’s great!”

  “You can have mine,” I offered.

  Sandy took the proffered food and happily squirted ketchup on the meat patty.

  “I mean, I’m done,” I said to Cassidy in an undertone.

  Her eyes widened. She glanced around, then whispered, “You mean, like, forever?”

  I gestured toward the hall. “Sparrow doesn’t need the Black Rider anymore. It’s obvious everything I did has been forgotten.”

  She gave me a sympathetic look. “Give them time. They’re just scared.”

  “I’m tired of bleeding for a town that can forget me so easily.” I stood.

  “They’re scared,” she said in a louder voice.

  Heads turned our way.

  I took a calming breath. “Then it re
ally is time,” I told her.

  I dumped my tray and stalked out of the lunchroom, feeling betrayed and beaten.

  “SHOULDN’T YA BE PATROLLIN’ or somethin’?” Jagger asked.

  I threw another bumper on the stack. “I’m done, Jagger.”

  He rubbed his eyes with one hand. “Now don’t be lettin’ that Carrison boy’s articles be gettin’ to ya,” he replied.

  I rolled my eyes and grabbed a car door. “It’s a bit more than that.”

  “I ‘eard ‘bout the posters ‘n such. Can’t believe they let ‘em up at school.”

  I eyed him curiously. “How did you hear about them?”

  “Sally told me. Her cousin works in ta lunchroom. She thinks ets a shame. Ya know kids are more ‘otheaded than adults.”

  I gave him a straight look. “So the patrons at the bar aren’t ready to call in the firing squad?”

  His hesitation told me what I needed to know. I threw the car door into the pile harder than I intended. Several others slid down. I sighed and began to stack them on top again.

  Jagger watched me work for a few minutes in silence. I finished with the pile of car doors I had dragged over with the four-wheeler and climbed back on to get another set.

  “Do ya suppose they could forget all ya done?” Jagger asked before I could turn on the key.

  I couldn’t trust my emotions and kept my gaze straight ahead when I replied, “That’s apparently what’s happened.”

  Jagger leaned against the porch post of his leaning wooden shack. “What they see is that the ‘ero they believed in ‘as turned against them.”

  “How could they think that after everything I’ve been through for them?” I demanded, fighting to keep my voice level.

  “Because they don’t know you,” Jagger answered in a softer tone.

  I glanced at him.

  He nodded. “If’n they ‘ad a face to go with the deeds, they wouldn’t doubt ya none. As it is, they only see a familiar helmet and motorcycle wreakin’ havoc on their town. They’re scared because they don’ understand.”

  “If they’re scared of me, I can’t help them.” I hated the sorrow in my voice and the way I felt—as if my soul had been sliced in two. I had done so much for Sparrow. To feel their distrust and fear ate away everything I had accomplished. What good was peace and trust if it was so fleeting?