by Stacy Finz
“Yeah.” Travis brought his plate to the sink. “Can we pick up my friend Ruben on the way?”
Jace hadn’t said anything about carpooling. But what harm would it do to shuttle one more kid?
“Sure,” she said. “Where does Ruben live?”
“He’s on the way. I’ll show you.”
She noticed Grady got real quiet. Something told her he wasn’t too thrilled about Ruben. Perhaps he wanted his big brother all to himself.
“Bundle up, boys.” The forecast was predicting temperatures in the forties.
Like his brother, Grady cleaned up after himself and followed Travis into the mudroom, where he collected his backpack. The boys went to different schools and Charlotte had been instructed to drop Travis first at Dry Creek High.
She grabbed her keys and purse and herded the boys out the door. “You ride up front with me, Travis.”
He directed her to Ruben’s house, which sat at the end of a tree-lined driveway on Dry Creek Road. An attractive woman about Charlotte’s age jogged down the porch stairs and came around to the driver’s side of Charlotte’s CR-V.
“Hi, I’m Kelly. You must be Mrs. Jamison’s replacement.”
“Yes.” Charlotte introduced herself, leaving out the fact she was only a temporary replacement.
So far, it was safe to show her face around town. This morning, she’d checked the internet on her phone to make sure there weren’t any missing-person posters of her floating around.
Hopefully, Meredith could prevent the police from putting out anything formal. But it was a free country. Corbin could use social media to spread the word of Charlotte’s disappearance, even offer a reward if he wanted to.
If he did, she and Meredith would have to come up with a plan B.
“Where in heavens did Jace find you?” Ruben’s mom was all smiles but Charlotte detected a whiff of rivalry coming off the woman like too much perfume. There wasn’t a wedding ring on Kelly’s finger, so maybe she was a single mom, hoping to snag the equally single Jace Dalton.
Charlotte was certainly no threat; in a week she’d be gone.
“We’re friends,” Charlotte said. “I’m just visiting and helping Jace out until he finds a permanent situation.”
Ruben got in the back seat and Charlotte waved goodbye.
She had barely pulled out onto Dry Creek Road when Grady let out a yelp.
“What’s going on?” She glanced in her rearview mirror to find Grady holding his head. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he said. But the hesitance in his voice told her otherwise.
She switched her gaze to Ruben and saw an altogether too familiar gleam in his eye. The gleam of a bully who’d just enjoyed taunting his prey. “Would you like to change places with your brother, Grady?”
“That’s okay.”
She glared at Ruben and said to Grady, “Say the word and we’ll pull over.”
He hunched his shoulders and for a second she was torn over what to do. Travis and Grady started talking and she decided to leave it alone for now. She managed to find the high school without Travis’s help and dropped the two older boys off.
“Come up here with me,” she told Grady. “I don’t know where the middle school is.”
He undid his seat belt and instead of getting out of the car and coming around to the passenger side, he climbed over the seat.
“Careful, Grady.”
He fastened himself in and pointed her in the right direction, telling her who lived in every house they passed. The running commentary went on for a few miles.
“Grady,” she interrupted, “what’s the deal with Ruben?”
“He’s a butthead.”
“Did he hit you?”
Grady didn’t respond at first, then said, “He was just horsing around.”
“Do you like it when he horses around or do you let him get away with it because he’s your brother’s friend? Because you don’t have to…and you shouldn’t. Travis wouldn’t want you to.”
“Travis thinks I’m a baby.” He fidgeted in his seat.
“Travis is your brother and he wouldn’t want anyone to mistreat you.” Perhaps if she’d been straight with Allison, she and her sister would be on speaking terms today. “Besides, I don’t think you’re a baby, nor does your father. So if someone is picking on you, you have to speak up. Okay?”
“Okay.” But he didn’t sound too convincing.
No, it would be up to her to keep tabs on this Ruben kid while she was here. Grady told her where to turn for the middle school and she joined the line of cars waiting to drop off their kids. For a small town the queue was long.
“You have everything?” she asked as the car ahead of her moved up just enough for Grady to safely get out of her SUV.
“Yep.” He opened the door and scurried out, using his one good arm to heft his backpack over his shoulder. “Thanks for the ride, Mrs. Rogers.”
“I’ll see you here at three.”
She turned around and drove through the residential area from which she came, putting off the inevitable task of calling Meredith. She’d do it when she got back to the ranch.
Even though it was the first day of February, some of the modest homes in the neighborhood still had Christmas lights hanging from the eaves. The yards were tidy, though. And Charlotte noticed that nearly every driveway was home to a pickup or two.
She enjoyed looking at the houses, the homemade wreaths that covered the front doors, and the backyards that pushed against acres of open space where cows and goats grazed.
Impulsively, she detoured off the main road onto one of the side streets. She remembered it from the time they went to Jace’s campaign manager’s house. Up the hill was where the big homes were. The Pacific Heights of Dry Creek, she thought and laughed to herself as she took her time climbing up the hillside.
It was lovely, with sweeping views of the mountains and pine trees, and of manicured front lawns and big iron gates. But nothing compared to Jace’s ranch.
Yesterday, she’d gone with him and the boys on a short walk on the property. They’d followed the creek to the horse barn and the sights had taken her breath away. The land went on until it seemed to reach the sky, making everything seem minuscule in comparison. And the air…oh the air…she just wanted to gulp it in.
Charlotte had never considered herself a country girl, but she could get used to living in a place with wide-open spaces.
She passed Tiffany’s house, recognizing the fountain in the front yard, and ventured farther up the hill. At the top, she took another road that seemed to head out of town. The homes were spaced farther apart and the more she descended, the smaller they got. Some of the houses looked downright dilapidated, with old farm equipment strewn across the property. She passed one with a yard sale sign hanging from an old chain-link fence.
Old habits were hard to shake, and she found herself turning down the driveway to a barn that looked like it was about to topple over. Half the metal roof was gone, and what remained didn’t appear watertight. She got out of her CR-V and was greeted by an elderly man. He was stooped over, carrying a bucket, wearing a pair of overalls.
“Hello.” She pointed in the direction of the sign. “Are you still having the yard sale?” Charlotte didn’t see anything spread out on the lawn, or what passed for a lawn.
The place looked like a rundown farm that had probably been quite nice at one time. There was a series of outbuildings and a large cottage with a big front porch. In the distance, she heard bleating. Goats, sheep, she wasn’t sure.
The man didn’t say anything but indicated that she should follow him. Charlotte let him take the lead. They went inside the barn, which appeared to be in better shape than she’d originally thought. It had a dirt floor, and animal stalls lined two walls. The middle of the barn was open and stuffed with junk.
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br /> “Everything in here has gotta go,” he said. “I’ll make ya a deal. But you’ve got to clear it out yourself.” The old man put down his bucket and straightened his back to give her a thorough appraisal. He didn’t seem too impressed with what he saw. “I don’t think that little van of yours will do the trick.”
A semitrailer wouldn’t do it.
At first glance, she took the piles of debris for a lot of ancient farm equipment. But from the side of her eye she caught something that looked interesting.
“You mind if I explore a little?”
“Knock yourself out.” He picked up his bucket again. “I’ve got to feed the livestock.” And with that he disappeared.
Charlotte didn’t know where to poke first. There didn’t seem to be any organization, just a dump pile of things. Despite the disarray, she couldn’t wait to get started. This used to be her drug of choice, scrounging through people’s discarded goods, looking for hidden gems or pieces she could repurpose and make shiny and new.
She rolled up her sleeves and got busy, steering clear of the mechanical parts. There was a rusted wheelbarrow that if sanded and repainted barn red would make a gorgeous planter. A couch that was stained and frayed and half the stuffing eaten by critters. But the wooden frame was the way they used to make things in the old days, solid as rock. With new cushions and a custom slipcover, it could be beautiful again. There was a corrugated metal trough that could easily be converted into a garden fountain, and a wagon wheel that was begging to become a chandelier. A rusty iron fence that with a little TLC would make a beautiful headboard for a bed. And a barn door with peeling paint that Charlotte rather liked just the way it was.
Two hours later, she’d started a pile that would take a good-size moving truck to get home. And that was the thing, she didn’t have a home. She didn’t have a store to sell any of this stuff from, nor a workshop to refurbish any of it.
“You’ve been busy.”
Charlotte had been so caught up in sorting that she hadn’t noticed that the farmer had returned.
“I have.” She smiled and turned to the pile she’d assembled. “How much do you want for this?”
He sniffled and pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket to wipe his nose. “I’m selling it all, the whole barn full, for a thousand bucks.”
“I only have use for what I’ve collected here.” It was a ridiculous assertion because she didn’t have a use for any of it. Yet, she couldn’t seem to let it go. The couch, the wheelbarrow, the antique nightstand, the rest…it all called to her. The items needed someone to nurture them back to life.
The man scrubbed his hand through his wiry hair and stared at her rag-tag assemblage. “What’re you gonna do with it?”
“Make it good again.”
He toed the metal trough with his worn boot. “Good again, huh? I don’t see it, but I like the spirit of it.” He stuck out his hand. “Milt Maitland. And you are?”
“Charlo…Charlie Rogers.” She shook his gnarled hand.
“I’ll tell you what, Charlie Rogers. You haul it away and it’s yours. Free.”
Free? She’d never had that happen before. Still, taking it would be crazy. An I Love Lucy episode. Not only didn’t she have the means to haul it away, but how the hell was she going to take it with her when she left in a week?
“We’ve got a deal,” she heard herself say, despite the utter absurdity of it.
Whatever it took, Charlotte was going to make every single abused and neglected piece in the pile beautiful and useful again.
Chapter 8
Jace had a difficult time keeping his mind on work. Twenty times he’d wanted to pick up the phone and call Charlie to see how her first day on the job was going, to discuss dinner, to tell her where the thermostat was in case she wanted to adjust the heat. And twenty times he put the phone down before punching in her number.
Pretty screwy because he’d never looked for excuses to call Mrs. Jamison.
And make no mistake about it, dinner…the thermostat…were exactly that. Excuses. But Charlie Rogers was a mystery he wanted to unravel, which was a dozen wrongs on so many levels, starting with the fact that he liked having her in his house. And he shouldn’t because she wasn’t here to stay.
Still, it had been a long time since he’d had a woman to come home to. Someone to talk to about his day, who did fussy things to make the dinner table special.
Yesterday, when they’d all walked to the horse barn together, he’d liked the little sighs of wonder she’d made at every tall tree. How excited she’d gotten when they’d spied a few deer drinking from the creek. The way she’d timidly fed Amigo a slice of apple and laughed when the gelding’s lips moved over the palm of her hand.
His boys liked her too. Whether that meant they would refrain from terrorizing her this week, only time would tell.
Annabeth tapped on his door, pulling him from his thoughts.
“Cash is in the lobby.”
“Yeah? Send him in.” Unlike Sawyer, who never met a closed door he wouldn’t walk through, Cash paid attention to small things like protocol. And gatekeepers like Annabeth. Jace supposed it was a leftover from Cash’s regimental FBI days.
Today, though, he looked about as much like an FBI agent as Jace did a banker. A snap-down Western shirt, jeans, boots, and a Stetson.
“The cow-cop job seems to be working well for you.” Jace propped his boots up on the desk and leaned back in his chair.
“Turns out it was a good decision.” Cash’s lips hitched up.
Damn right it was. Jace had helped him get the job with the Bureau of Livestock Identification after his cousin had been senselessly fired by the FBI. Now he rode around in his truck all day, investigating livestock thefts and monitoring cattle sales.
“What’s up?”
“Want to go lunch?”
Jace sat up straight in his seat. This was the first time Cash had ever popped in out of the blue for social reasons. “Everything okay?”
“Of course. A guy can’t eat?”
Jace got his hat and shearling jacket off the rack. “Coffee shop?”
Cash laughed. “Where else would we go?”
They crossed Main Street to Mother Lode Road, stopping a half dozen times to say hello to various townsfolk. Grandpa Dalton had been bigger than life and his memory still hung large over Dry Creek. Even though Jace was a grown man and the county’s top cop, with two sons of his own, in the eyes of the town’s residents he was merely Jasper Dalton’s grandson.
And that was okay with Jace. Because in his eyes there’d been no finer grandfather than the old cuss. And no finer cowboy.
Laney managed to find them a table amid the packed restaurant. Neither of them required a menu, knowing every dish by heart. They got the weekday special: a steak sandwich with a side of fries and a frosty mug of homemade sarsaparilla, another one of Jimmy Ray’s specialties. It didn’t hurt that the special was called “the Jasper” after Grandpa Dalton.
Jasper had ordered that same meal for three decades on the days he came to the coffee shop for his cattlemen klatch. Some of the same old codgers were still coming and still eating “the Jasper” special.
“Sawyer home yet?” Jace pulled a paper napkin from the holder and spread it across his lap.
“I think he’s getting in sometime today. I noticed that CR-V is still in your driveway.”
“Yep.”
“I’m going to violate my self-imposed rule and ask: Is there something going on between you and this woman?”
“Nope. Like I said, she’s married. And even if the guy’s a son-of-a-bitch, which I’m pretty sure he is, I’m a moralist bastard.”
“But there’s something there?”
Jace let out a wry laugh. “Like what? She’s running from something, won’t tell me what it is, and has one foot out the door. So no, the
re’s nothing there.” He played with a packet of sugar on the table.
Everything he’d said was the truth. What he’d left out was that for the first time since Mary Ann had left, a woman had stirred more than his sex drive. Cash was smart enough to let it go but not stupid enough to believe he’d been wrong. Because there was something definitely there, at least on Jace’s part.
Something fruitless.
Laney brought their food and they ate in companionable silence.
“You want to be my best man?” Cash asked, when both of them had eaten their last French fry.
“Hell yeah, but what about Sawyer?”
“Ring bearer.” They both laughed. “Him too. Aubrey says it’s the new millennium and anything goes.”
“Two best men, huh? Works for me. Does that mean we’re both responsible for throwing the bachelor party?”
“Aubrey says bachelor parties are out.”
“Of course she does.” Jace snorted. “Anything to suck the joy out of life.”
“Hey, she’s your best friend.” Cash drained the rest of his sarsaparilla. “Just a barbecue with friends and family would be good. But don’t put Sawyer in charge of it. He’ll turn it into a production…get Gordon Ramsay to cater it and Keith Richards to play.”
Jace chuckled. “Yeah, he’s kind of douchey that way.”
The lunch crowd began to filter out and Jimmy Ray came out of the kitchen to say hello. He pulled up a chair at their table.
“You two look like trouble. Who was that pretty lady you had with you the other day? Laney thought she was real fine.”
“Just a friend,” Jace said, trying to quell any rumors, even if it was useless. Folks here liked to talk.
“A friend, huh?” Jimmy Ray poked Cash in the shoulder and winked. “Tiffany says it’s more.”
Bless Tiffany’s lying heart. “Tiffany’s wrong. She’s a friend, Jimmy Ray, and she’s just passing through on her way to Colorado.”
“That’s too bad.” Jimmy Ray shook his head. “It would’ve taken you off the market. Too many women hanging their hats on getting a blue-eyed Dalton, not leaving any left for the rest of us.”
