Run Wild With Me

by Sandra Chastain

  “Talk?” If she was going to talk with him, she wanted it to be in the middle of the Arcadia High School gym with a full house.

  The bright summer sun hit the hood of the squad car and glared through the window. Good, she didn’t want the conversation to be too private. With supreme effort she pulled her thinking together and forced herself to be calm.

  “All right, Mr. Farley, what can I do for you?”

  You can take off that hat and let your hair down the way it was the first night we met, he wanted to say. You can open that car door and go for a walk with me by the stream. We can hold hands and pretend we’re a couple of those teenagers who come to this spot for privacy, for touching and kissing.

  Sam let his hand slide to the seat beside him. In spite of something in her eyes that told him she wasn’t entirely unaware of the tension that sparked between them, touching and kissing this woman would not be a smart move. He already knew what the results of that kind of thinking would be, and he wasn’t interested in either jail or marriage.

  “Is there someone else waiting to pay the taxes and claim the farm if I don’t?”

  Andrea thought of Ed Pinyon’s plans for the property and decided not to spoil Sam’s mental picture of the land being farmed. Knowing the truth would only spoil Sam’s memory of his mother’s home after he’d gone. “Probably, but I doubt anybody’d live here. People want new houses like they’re building in town now. They don’t appreciate the old homes like Mamie’s.”

  “Oh, she’s a jewel, all right. She’s a grand old lady who just needs a little loving care.”

  Andrea was startled by the genuine excitement in his voice. There was something to the man other than his ability to set off hormonal combustion inside her. “You really like old houses?”

  “I’m a carpenter, remember? With the right tools and a little work, you’d be surprised how my grandmother’s house could look.”

  Andrea heard confidence in his voice and pride, coupled with a kind of suppressed wistfulness that he couldn’t disguise. She hadn’t expected a house to get to him. But he did sound serious about staying in Arcadia. If he really wanted to get to the courthouse, they’d better be on their way. She released the brake and drove the car back to the highway.

  “Say, do people ever swim in the stream back there?” Sam asked, rubbing perspiration from his forehead with his arm.

  “Sure. Farther downstream is Minor’s Lake and a city park where Arcadia holds a Founder’s Day celebration and picnic every Fourth of July.”

  “Founder’s Day celebration? Really? Tell me more about your community, Chief Fleming.”

  “Arcadia was settled in the 1800s by big cotton-plantation owners. It was a gay, thriving city in its time. Then came the Civil War, and the planters lost everything. Now we have nine hundred and thirty-six residents in the city limits, with about the same number in the outlying areas.”

  “Do you live on a farm, Chief?”

  “No, not anymore. Our house is on a big tract of land, but Pop leases most of it out to other farmers.” Buck would be farming, Andrea could have added, if he hadn’t come home from Vietnam with a steel plate in his head that kept him from doing manual labor.

  “There was a time when everybody farmed,” she continued, “until high interest rates and the drought wiped everybody out. Oh, we have a couple of manufacturing plants. But so many of our people are leaving. It’s very sad.”

  “Same thing’s happening everywhere,” Sam commented. “In Texas it was the oil industry. In Pittsburgh the steel mills have problems, and out in California the computer industry isn’t what it used to be. I’m glad I work with my hands. I can always move to the next town if the one I’m in closes down.”

  Andrea stole a glance at the man drumming his work-roughened fingers on the car door. She didn’t like what was happening to her county. Ed Pinyon’s construction company was the only thing expanding. She didn’t know how he did it.

  Sam crinkled up his nose and squinted his eyes. “Cotton dust. I’d recognize that smell anywhere.”

  “That’s the universal smell of the South, Mr. Vagabond. Ever worked on a farm?”

  The odor of cotton dust wafted through the open car window and settled across Andrea like a familiar shawl. This was her world, an everlasting world she could trust, a world that would never be something other than what it appeared to be. Today her world was fresh and green.

  “Not by choice. Let’s just say I’ve tried to avoid farming communities in the last few years.”

  “Why is that, Sam? Don’t farmers build things too?”

  “Yes, fences—barbed-wire fences that either keep you in or out. I like concrete and steel, being high above the ground, or in the wilderness all alone. And I’m a traveling man, remember?”

  Remember? How could she forget?

  Four

  They reached the outskirts of Cottonboro, where the two-lane highway narrowed a little and became Court Street. Court Street led straight to the red-brick courthouse with the broken clock in the steeple. She parked the patrol car in a reserved space.

  “Here you are, Mr. Farley, the Meredith County Courthouse. The tax office is on the second floor. I’ll meet you back here at the car.”

  She got out and strode purposefully inside, glad that Sam hadn’t insisted on walking in with her. She didn’t need Sam around when she wanted to ask questions about him. She pushed open the judge’s door. Maybe she could find out something from Madge, his secretary. She and Madge had been friends since grammar school.

  “Morning, Madge.”

  “Andrea! My, don’t you look official in that uniform. Women’s liberation in Meredith County. You don’t have to tell me why the Arcadia City Council gave you the job. You already do everything else.”

  “Is the judge in, Madge?”

  “No, he and the sheriff had to go out—some kind of tip about a stolen tractor trailer. Crime rears its ugly head in Meredith County. But he had me make you a copy of Mamie’s will. Just leaves everything to her daughter. Not a word about anybody else. You know, we never did actually find out what happened to Millie.”

  “Did anybody look?”

  “Sure, when Miss Mamie died and again at tax time. They found some sort of nursing-home address for her in Mamie’s things. But she never answered our letter. In two months it will be sold for taxes if nobody claims it.”

  Maybe, Andrea thought as she recalled Sam Farley’s new interest. “You never know, Madge. Somebody might want it.”

  “All right, are you going to tell me? What does he look like, Andy? Do you think he really is Mamie’s grandson?”

  “Who?”

  “The hitchhiker that Otis picked up. Who else would I be talking about?”

  “Good grief, how’d you find out?”

  “You know party lines. Somebody just happened to overhear Louise Roberts and Otis’s wife talking. Does he have long hair and an earring? What does he look like?”

  “He’s tall, lean, and charming, some kind of drifter. I don’t know much about him, Madge.” Andrea shook her head. “I only saw him in the dark last night and then for a … few minutes today.”

  “Last night in the dark? This gets better and better. Tell me more. What’s he doing here? Is he married?”

  “Outside of checking out his grandmother’s property, I have no idea. He said he was just passing through.”

  “Maybe he’s planning on staying. What do you think?”

  “She thinks I should stay,” Sam said with a grin as he stepped inside the office and laid his arm casually across Andrea’s shoulder. “Ready, Chief?”

  Andrea glared at him. “Will you stop that, Farley? I’m not your personal chauffeur. I just gave you a ride.” Andrea knew from Madge’s puzzled expression that she was overreacting, but she couldn’t stop herself. “And take your hands off me!”

  “Sorry, Chief Fleming. You just finish up your business, and I’ll wait in the car.” Gallantly he tipped his hat to the secretaries who�
��d gathered in the hallway, gave Madge a big smile, then left the office, whistling merrily.

  “Wow! Was that him?” Madge asked. “Why didn’t you tell me that he was a cross between Clint Eastwood and Ken Wahl? Now I really want to know what you meant when you said you met him in the dark.”

  “Madge, honestly. Last night I checked out a report of a break-in at Mamie’s house. It was Sam Farley. Today I gave him a ride. That’s all there is to it. Please don’t go starting rumors.”

  “Me? Start rumors, when half the single women in the country are probably outside drooling over him and you’ve already staked a claim? Never! Where are you going now?”

  “Back to work,” Andrea snapped. “Forget about Sam Farley, Madge. He’s available, but he’s not permanent.”

  “All right, if you insist on keeping him all to yourself.” Madge turned piously back to her typewriter. “Pity, how authority just seems to go to some folks’ heads.”

  “Honestly, Madge, you sound like some fifteen-year-old in the throes of passion.”

  “I wish,” Madge admitted with a toss of her head. “Speaking of passion, or the lack of it, will I see you and Ed at the church supper Wednesday night?”

  Andrea winced and stopped. “Madge,” she said slowly, “it is not a foregone conclusion that I will be at the church with Ed. We are not engaged, in spite of the general opinion of half the county. He’s just a … friend.”

  “Well I can’t blame you. I’d go for the stranger too. Okay, okay, Andy.” Madge threw up her arms in mock self-defense as Andrea took a step toward the desk. “I’m sorry. I just thought … I mean, you’ve been friends for nearly two years, and Ed talks like … well, you’d better let Ed know. I’m thinking he has a different idea about that.”

  Andrea knew that Madge was right. She’d allowed herself to establish a routine with Ed out of boredom. She’d been content to let things drift along, and that had been a mistake, a mistake she’d have to rectify. And now she had an even bigger mistake waiting in the police car.

  In the corridor she ran into Joe Willis, the tax commissioner. “You just talked to Mamie’s grandson?”

  Joe nodded. “Told him the tax deadline had passed on the place. I don’t think that I can give him an extension. But he does have the option to pay the full amount plus penalties by August first and prevent the auction.”

  So much for that, Andrea thought. She doubted that Sam could come up with the full amount between now and the auction, even if he wanted to. Lost in thought, Andrea slapped the envelope containing Mamie’s will against her leg as she went outside. She slipped back into the police car and buckled her seat belt.

  Sam was sitting with his head back against the seat, his hat covering his face as though he were sleeping. She wanted to ask him how he felt about the tax commissioner’s news but didn’t want to let him know that she’d inquired. Sam already thought that small-town people were too nosy.

  The morning heat glared down on the patrol car. Andrea fanned herself with the envelope containing the will. About the only things stirring in Meredith County today were telephone receivers as people gossiped about her and Sam Farley.

  “Aren’t you burning up?” she asked him, wondering why he wasn’t more upset about the news.

  “No. I like saunas.”

  Andrea’s hair was already hanging in damp tendrils down the back of her neck. She waved at a friend across the street. The woman wore her hair in a short punk style. Andrea almost smiled as she tried to imagine what Ed Pinyon would say if she showed up at the Fourth of July picnic with spiked orange hair.

  As if her thoughts had conjured him up, Ed walked out of the courthouse. He came down the steps and stopped by her open window. Darn. If she’d been a half-second quicker …

  “Andrea? What’s this about you taking over Buck’s job as police chief?”

  “It’s true—” she started to say, but Ed kept talking.

  “You’re wearing a uniform! Really, Andrea, how do you expect to … who’s that?”

  “Good morning to you, too, Ed. I expect people to accept me as an officer of the law. Why aren’t you out shaking hands and building roads?” Sam seemed to be asleep. With any luck, he’d remain that way.

  “Just came over to pick up my new suit and submit my bid on that stretch of county road out by the Warren place. I’ll get it. Nobody else has the equipment and manpower.”

  “I’m sure you will, Ed. You’ve brought your dad’s company a long way.” Sam stirred slightly. She could tell that he wasn’t asleep. Please, Lord, she said to herself, just let him keep on playing possum. She could predict what would happen if Ed said something rude to Sam. Fireworks!

  She glanced up at Ed. He was successful, and he looked the part, dressing the way he thought the world expected a future politician to dress—a crisply ironed shirt and designer jeans. Though she couldn’t see them, Andrea was willing to bet that he was also sporting the handmade snake-skin boots of which he was so proud. Ed’s expensive boots made her think of Sam’s worn ones. Sam Farley’s boots had been where boots were meant to go.

  Ed was still talking, and she had no idea what he’d said. She just wanted to get away from more questions.

  “I’m sorry, Ed,” she interrupted, “I’ve got to get back. Buck’s at the station alone, with his leg in a cast.”

  “I said who is that guy? Surely Buck isn’t allowing you to transport prisoners!”

  “No, he isn’t a prisoner, and he won’t be as long as he remains silent.”

  Ed leaned down, a serious expression on his face. “About that stranger out at the old Hines place,” he said authoritatively. “You stay away from him.”

  Andrea’s eyes narrowed. “Wait just a minute, Ed. Don’t give me orders. I’ve got a job to do.”

  “Surely you don’t take all this police business seriously, Andrea. I don’t want you to get hurt by trying to deal with some low-life hitchhiker.”

  She covered the growl coming from beneath the Stetson by clearing her throat.

  “Ed! You don’t even know him. He’s Mamie Hines’s grandson. He’ll be leaving in a few days. I’ve got to go.”

  Andrea put the car in reverse and backed it out of its parking space, bringing Sam’s side window next to Ed.

  “We’ll talk about this tonight, Andy,” Ed called.

  At that moment Sam raised up, sliding his hat to the back of his head. “I wouldn’t count on it, Governor. She’s already got a date with me.”

  “Andrea!” Ed shouted. “Who the hell is this guy?”

  “None of your business, Ed.” Andrea sped down the street, leaving him open-mouthed on the sidewalk.

  Sam laughed softly. “If that’s the man in your life, Chief Fleming, you’re in big trouble.”

  “How dare you tell Ed that we have a date tonight!” Andrea shook her head from side to side, furious with Sam and alarmed at what she’d just said to Ed. “There’s no man in my life. But there’s nothing wrong with Ed Pinyon. He’s simply an old friend.”

  “I don’t believe that’s what the tycoon thinks.”

  “It doesn’t matter what you believe. I have one more little duty to perform, Sam Farley, and you’d better not open your mouth if you treasure your freedom.”

  When Andrea stopped at the state-patrol headquarters, Sam apparently decided that discretion was the better part of valor. He covered his face with his cap and slid back down in the seat while she went inside and requested a confidential police report on her passenger from Lewis Hayslip, the sergeant on duty.

  “Last address?” Lewis asked.

  Andrea took a wild guess and said, “Texas.” According to the will she’d picked up, the property had been left to Millie Lynn Hines, only child of Mamie and Jed Hines. There was no mention of Sam Farley.

  By the time she got back to the car, two of the secretaries were standing at the window talking to Sam. Wonderful! With more than a little abruptness, Andrea nodded at the women, slid into the police car, and squealed
the wheels as she backed up and drove rapidly out of town.

  Sam bit back a smile, but he didn’t open his mouth. Being in demand by the women in Meredith County was something he could deal with. Getting the statuesque chief of police to be the one to demand him was becoming an interesting challenge. Jail might even be worth it.

  Back at Mamie’s place, Andrea stopped the car and let the motor run as he slowly got out.

  “Would you care to come in for a refreshing drink of that cold well water you mentioned earlier?”

  “Nope. Got to get back to town.” Andrea made a quick decision and hoped it was a good one. “Sam,” she added with concern in her voice, “I’m sorry about the taxes. I wish there was something I could do.”

  “There is, Chief. You could take me to lunch.”

  “Not today, Sam. You could always go down and eat with Louise. Her biscuits are wonderful.”

  “But darlin’, Louise Roberts just doesn’t fill out a police uniform like you do.”

  Andrea left him whistling a show tune as he started up the drive.

  Halfway back to town she realized that she was humming the same song.

  “What took you so long?” Buck asked. “It’s lunchtime.”

  “I ran into Ed, who isn’t too happy about my taking over your job. He doesn’t think it’s proper.”

  “You’re sure it’s Ed that’s got you acting uppity, and not Sam Farley?”

  “I’m sure,” she replied firmly.

  “And?” Buck’s expression was far too innocent. “How is the stranger in our midst this morning?”

  “Fine enough to tell Ed Pinyon that I have a date with him tonight, instead of Ed.”

  Buck’s cast came down with a crash. “What?”

  “I picked Sam up on the highway, hitchhiking over to the courthouse to talk to the tax commissioner.”

  “You don’t mean he’s considering making a claim?”

  “I don’t know, Buck. All I can tell you is that he seems to be trying to settle in. And I don’t know what I think about that. Here’s the copy of Mamie’s will.”