by Jodi Thomas
Anna closed her mouth, shook her head, and took a step backward. She should not have come. No one else needed to be involved.
When she lifted her hands to warn him not to follow, she heard Zack's abrupt intake of breath.
For a moment, she had no idea what could have startled him. Then, she saw. Her hands were covered in blood.
"Anna," he whispered as he neared. "Anna, what happened?"
Pain hit her like a bullet. She had been so frightened, so angry there was no room to feel physical pain. She stared at the crimson droplets being watered down with rain. Anna crumpled.
Zack caught her just before she hit the ground. He carried her carefully to the porch swing and wrapped her inside the quilt he always left there. "Where else are you hurt? Anna. answer me!"
Kneeling in front of her, he examined her hands. A layer of skin had been scraped off both hands from the fingers to the wrists. Scratched deep enough to bleed, but not so deep to be dangerous.
She did not say a word. She was here. She was safe. That was all that mattered.
He helped her remove her raincoat and ran his hands along her body. When he touched her upper arms, she Irnsed.
"What's wrong?" he asked, as he felt for broken bones. "'fell me what happened?"
Anna could not bring herself to tell him. Some secrets must be kept. It had been an accident, nothing more. Carlo had not meant to hurt her. He was not like their father.
"Lack covered her with the blanket, not caring that blood darkned the beautifully made quilt. "I'll be right back." He pushed the hair away from her face. "You will stay until I get back?"
She nodded. There was no place else she wanted to be.
He returned a few minutes later with water and the firstaid kit. He knelt on one knee in front of the swing and slowly cleaned the broken skin.
Her hands shook when he touched her, but his gentle words calmed her.
"Don't be afraid Anna. No one is going to hurt you. I don't know what you are running from, but I want you to know you can always run to me."
By the time he had cleaned the blood away and spread antiseptic on all the tiny cuts, she had stopped shaking. He wrapped both hands in gauze then gave her a flask of whiskey he kept for emergencies.
She took a sip, made a face, and handed the flask back to him.
Zack chuckled. "There were times in my life when I couldn't get enough of this stuff, then I realized I was following in my father's footsteps. A few months after my wife left me, I threw away all but this flask and decided to look at the world, no matter how bad, without the haze." He offered her another drink but she shook her head.
"Pretty awful, huh?"
Anna nodded. She started to wipe her mouth, then stopped at the sight of her fingers wrapped in white.
Zack leaned in and brushed his thumb across her bottom lip, catching the moisture the whiskey had left.
The simple action was the most loving thing anyone had ever done for her. She felt as if he had made love to her in an instant.
"Feeling better?" His voice was unsteady, and she knee he had felt it also.
She nodded once more and raised her hands. "Th-thank you."
He waited for her to explain, but she did not.
Finally, he leaned back against the swing and gingerly placed his arm around her shoulders. She relaxed against his side, curling her feet up beneath her inside the quilt.
"You can tell me what happened. Or you can tell me nothing. It doesn't matter. I'm still going to be here."
Her slender arm slid around his chest, right across his heart.
The rain fell in sheets off the edge of the porch, but they barely noticed. After a long while, he whispered against her hair, "I swear, I'll never tell anyone you come here, Anna. I swear on my life."
The promise and his arms around her were all she needed right now. She would worry about Carlo later; tonight she just wanted to be with Zack.
They rocked back and forth on the old porch swing until the rain stopped. Then, he walked her back through the mud to the walkover.
She took the first step and turned to face him.
After a moment of silence, he said, "Remind me to tell you sometime when we're talking, how much I like your hair down and all wild."
She leaned forward and kissed his cheek, then took the next step.
"Take care," he said as he helped her over.
She nodded in answer and headed toward her place. When she reached the back patio, she turned and waved, knowing he would still be watching.
Oil field workers often put a six-pack in the water can as they come to work. At quitting time everyone has a cold beer.
Saturday, November 28
Montano Ranch
Anna slowly unwrapped the gauze Zack had placed around her hands two nights ago. There was no bleeding, but her skin looked raw and covered in long thin scabs.
She trembled, realizing if she had not covered her face when she fell, the scabs might be across her cheeks.
"What's wrong with you?" Carlo asked in Italian from the kitchen doorway. He saw no need to use English when they were alone. Neither did he bother to close the door. He was truly a man more comfortable in barns.
"Nothing." Anna guessed Carlo must have slept Friday away and finally recovered enough from his holiday drunk to make an appearance. He would not really be interested in anything she said as he rummaged through her cabinets for the bottle of aspirin she kept there.
"I noticed the front door was locked." He opened the bottle. "Not a bad idea with all the extra men around the place." He helped himself to coffee as if nothing had happened between them two days ago. "If you do not feel safe, I could move over here into the other bedroom until the drilling is finished."
"I-I am fine." Anna fought down panic. "Y-you need to be near the horses." She and Carlo were from the same blood. They had been taught since birth that horses were more important than people. If he really thought there was any danger on the ranch, he would stay near them, not her.
She had to convince him she was not afraid to be alone. If he saw fear, or weakness, he might start moving in. "I scraped my hands on the fireplace wall when you pushed me Thursday night. I am not worried about the extra men you hired. I am worried about my brother who comes over here drunk to yell at me."
Carlo looked confused for a moment, and a little guilty. He quickly recovered. "I hardly remember coming over. I wanted to warn you to be careful." He played his big brother role now, the one she had loved so dearly when she was a child. "You are Davis's widow, Anna. You can not be smiling at the employees. It would not be proper. You are lucky to have me here to guide you."
No matter how old she got, he would always be ten years older. Ten years wiser in his mind.
She raised her hands seeing the scratches and imperfections in their sibling bond as well as the ones on her flesh. "You call this lucky?"
"You probably felll wandering through the great room in the dark. Do not blame your problems on me." His eyes told her he did not believe his words, but he continued, "I am working day and night to keep this place making money. I have no time to hear about your scratches."
Anna found no argument in his last statement. She also knew the discussion was pointless. At best, they would go in circles, at worst he would get angry. She decided the safest choice was to change the subject. She continued in Italian. "Speaking of money, I may need some today. Helena Whitworth called and asked if I could have lunch with her and go shopping."
Carlo's mood changed. "Of course. Whatever you need. 1 will put extra in the box." He switched to English. "It is good that you become her friend."
The box was a leather case on Davis's desk in the den. He always left several hundred dollars in it for Anna in case she needed household funds. A checkbook with her name on it rested in the bottom of the box for emergencies.
"I-I may be gone most of the day."
Carlo nodded. "I will have someone exercise the horse you are training. Do not worry a
bout it." He seemed almost in a hurry to be rid of her.
Anna watched him go, then collected the money. As she twisted her hair in a long braid and circled it at the back of her neck, she thought that in her country it would have been the proper style for a woman in mourning. She also wore black, but broke with custom by adding a multicolored scarf.
An hour later, she pulled into the garage beneath the bank and the Randell House Restaurant. She was early, but she planned to enjoy a cup of tea before Helena arrived.
As she stepped from her car, she saw Zack Larson walk out of the elevator and start across the shadowy parking lot toward her.
He walked in long strides to his pickup with his head down.
Anna was not sure what to do. If she stood perfectly still, he probably would not even notice her. If she moved, he might speak to her. She was not sure which would be worse.
Words lodged in her throat preventing all possibility of calling to him. Her hands shook. Her purse fell to the concrete.
Zack looked up and froze. His troubled frown lifted slightly as he held her gaze.
They were both aware of other people rushing from the elevator to their cars.
He took a few long steps and knelt at her side, picking up her purse. "You dropped this, ma'am."
"n-thank you." Her hand brushed his as she took the purse.
He touched his fingers to his Stetson and walked away without another word.
Anna forced herself to turn and walk toward the elevator. She did not breathe until the door closed and she stood alone. By the time she reached the second floor, Anna was once more in complete control. No one who saw their brief exchange would suspect anything.
She sat enjoying her tea, thinking of how once more Zack Lawson had kept his word. When Helena joined her, Anne was a little surprised to see how tired the older woman looked. Helena explained that she had not been sleeping well.
"We have much to do," she whispered as if she and Anna were planning a great crime and not just having lunch.
Before she could add more, Meredith Allen joined them and a moment later, Crystal Howard.
The widows are assembled, Anna thought. All except Randi. Meredith was dressed in a Christmas sweatshirt that had a Santa Claus head made from yarn sewn on it. She apologized for having only an hour for lunch before she had to be back to work at the clerk's office.
Crystal also looked tired, but there was a grace about her that had not been there months ago when Anna first met her. Crystal was growing. She looked comfortable in her clothes and at home in this restaurant.
"Now, we're all here." Helena opened the luncheon as though it were a board meeting. "We have a problem."
The three younger women leaned closer. If Helena had a problem they were all three there to help.
Helena took a deep breath and got right to it. "Randi got arrested last night."
"What?" Crystal shouted, shattering her new image. "She was with me until ten when I drove her back to her hotel." Crystal looked at the others and added, "What with Shelby coming home yesterday and all the nurses moving In, Randi said she would rather stay at a hotel and get a good night's sleep before she headed back this morning. I figured she'd be halfway to Memphis by now. How did she have enough time to get into trouble in the past few hours?"
"What happened?" Meredith directed her question to Helena.
The senior woman among them shrugged and continued her report, "From what I've been able to piece together, she must have driven over to the bar for a nightcap. She took out one of the light poles at Frankie's place when she left. I phoned Sheriff Farrington about it this morning after my daughter notified me. Her husband works for the electric company and was called in early to shut off the electricity going to the pole. I swear, nothing happens in this town that I don't hear about before the newspaper even has time to report on it.
"Anyway, that is beside the point. The sheriff told me Frankie was fighting mad at Randi and wanted to file charges. He claims she did it on purpose. Sheriff Farrington thinks that might be the case since she wasn't legally drunk, and she's spent most of her time this morning calling Frankie names when he finally woke her up at the motel. He said there is a pole-size dent in her bumper, so there is little chance of her pleading innocent."
Meredith was not following. "Why would she do such a thing?" In her world, accidents happened, not intentional destruction.
"You don't know Randi." Crystal sounded suddenly depressed: "She's got a temper and old Frankie loves to push her buttons. Which isn't hard to do when she's been drinking. She never mentioned it to me, but someone told me once that he's always telling her she married the wrong Howard. Giving her a hard time about how she didn't get rich like I did."
Anna knew the reason did not matter. The problem still needed to be solved. "How can we help her?"
Helena took a long sip of coffee before she answered. "One of us has to see the sheriff about making her bail, and one of us must go into Frankie's place and talk him into dropping the charges. Maybe we could even offer to pay for new lights around the parking lot. Money usually makes this kind of situation seem a little better."
Everyone at the table nodded in agreement.
Anna spoke first. "I-I will pay for the lights." Contributing money was far easier than talking to someone she did not know.
"I'll talk to Frankie," Meredith volunteered.
Helena and Crystal both looked surprised. They had expected her to choose talking with the sheriff. After all, she would be working a few doors down from him all afternoon.
"That leaves me to discuss the matter with the sheriff." Helena nodded once as if finalizing a deal. "Crystal, you've got your hands full with Shelby right now."
Crystal frowned for a moment, then brightened. "I could have one of the mechanics who works for Howard Drilling check on her car. By the time you all get her out of jail, I could have it gassed up and ready to make the trip back to Memphis."
"That would be a good idea," Helena agreed. "This place has nothing but bad memories for Randi. Maybe she needs time away."
Helena did not have to say more. Anna and the others understood. Each dealt with grief in their own way. For Randi, maybe it was drinking. At least in Tennessee, she would not be reminded of her Jimmy every place she turned.
The women talked on of other things. An hour later, when they parted, they were all soldiers with a mission.
Anna had already figured out where she could get the money to buy the new lights for Frankie's bar. She would tell Carlo she wanted to make a donation to a charity Helena Whitworth supported. He would never question it.
Along muddy, tent-lined streets, boomtown joints served a crude alcoholic drink made popular during Prohibition. They were open round-the-clock to accommodate all shifts from the oil fields. Roughnecks who drank cheap liquor sometimes lost workdays because the alcohol produced a paralysis of the feet and legs.
Saturday, November 28
5:00 p.m.
As Meredith walked down the courthouse hallway, the bells at the Catholic church chimed for Saturday evening mass. They reminded her that this place had once been her palace and she had danced across the marble floors. She knew every corner of the first two stories as if it were her private playhouse.
Her father had never allowed her to climb the stairs to the third floor, just in case a prisoner was being held in the small two-cell holding unit. Once in a while, a man would be brought in for trial early in the morning and transferred out that night to the main jail six miles out of town. She had seen the small elevator in the sheriff's office that only went to the third floor, but doubted it still worked.
She could not help but glance over near the back door when she stopped at Granger's office and told him goodbye. The elevator was still there but the county clerk said Granger, or one of the deputies, took prisoners straight to the main unit nowadays. They did not have the manpower to assign someone to the third floor as a guard.
Granger looked up from his spotl
ess desk and stared at her as if he had forgotten she was in the building.
She did not give him time to say anything. She wanted to get to Frankie's Bar and complete her mission. She was several feet down the hall when she thought she heard him answer, "Evening."
Kevin and she had gone to bars a few times during their college days. She guessed it was still the same-no one ever came early to a bar. So, five o'clock would probably be a slow time if Saturday had a slow time. She could talk to the owner, Frankie, get her business done, and be home before dark.
Clifton Creek once boasted thirty saloons, but when the oil boom slowed, the bars eroded into dilapidated buildings, storage garages, and quick-stop gas and grocery stores. Somehow, like the last dinosaur, Frankie's had survived. It had changed owners several times. In the sixties it was a biker bar, a beer and barbecue stand in the seventies, but since the early eighties, Frankie's place was pure countryand-western music and longnecks.
When she pulled into the parking lot, Meredith breathed a long sigh of relief. Only three cars huddled in front of the shack. Since lunch, she had been planning what she would say and now wanted to get it over with before she forgot her speech. She would use logic on Frankie. Even a bar owner would respond to that.
The wind whirled a caliche cloud around her car as she parked. White powder settled on her old Mustang, dirtying the already dull blue to Confederate gray. Clumps of dried weeds fought their way through broken sidewalks to serve as landscaping. Shattered bottles that had been tossed at the building framed the foundation like colorful crystal in the afternoon sun.
Meredith rushed inside, telling herself she did not care if someone saw her. She was on a mission. But she knew she would rather not have to explain. Thirty years ago a teacher patronizing such an establishment would have been grounds for dismissal. Today, it would probably only be frowned upon. She did not want to find out for sure.
