by Jodi Thomas
Georgia stepped in the room and helped him lie back down. He closed his eyes and willed the world to settle. “Thanks, Doc,” he managed to say calmly, “but I’m not spending the night. Not in this place.”
“Who should I call, Tinch?” Georgia sounded concerned.
“No one. I’ll be all right in a minute. I can drive. Give me a minute and I’ll walk out of here.”
“I don’t think so. If Dr. Spencer says you need someone to drive you, we’re not letting you go until her orders are filled.” Georgia had that general stance about her that hinted she would fight if need be.
Tinch would have laughed if he could have. Two women wouldn’t stop him. No one ever stopped him from doing whatever he wanted to do. “I got to go home.” He decided to try reason first. Too bad it must have dripped out with his blood.
Georgia patted his arm, but her words were for the doctor. “You rented that place way out on Timber Line Road, didn’t you, Doctor?”
She waited for the doctor to nod, then added, “Tinch lives in the only other house out that direction.”
When the doctor didn’t comment, Georgia set her plan. “You could give him a lift. He’s just down the road.”
Tinch opened one eye enough to see the doc shake her head.
“I’m not sure it would be the safe thing to do,” she said.
Georgia laughed. “He’s not dangerous to anyone but himself. You’d be safer driving him than being in a car with him on the road.”
“I don’t need a ride,” he said, wondering if he could manage to stand and make it to his truck before he passed out. He’d slept there before; he could do it again. “I’m not sure I’d be safe with the doc.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Tinch.” Georgia was in no mood to listen. “If you’re not going to take a room for the night, someone has got to drive you home.”
Dr. Spencer looked like she’d been asked to pick up a stray dog on a busy highway. “All right,” she frowned. “I’ll pull my car up if you’ll wheel him out. You’re right, he’d be a danger on the road.”
She was gone before he could argue, so he turned on Georgia. “I don’t need or want any help. I’m fine.”
Georgia pulled a wheelchair from the corner and helped him into it. “I’m not taking responsibility for you passing out and running off in a ditch. Let someone help you, Tinch, before it’s too late.”
Tinch fought down nausea. “That Dr. Spencer didn’t look too excited about playing Good Samaritan, Georgia.”
“The doc doesn’t like men, any men from what I can see, so you be polite to her. If she snubs the rich ones who come by to flirt with her, you can imagine what she must think of the bottom-of-a-barrel ones like you.”
“Thanks for the compliment.” He frowned. He’d never considered himself in any barrel, much less at the bottom of one. He’d loved Lori Anne since they were in middle school and never really cared one way or the other what any other girl thought of him.
“You smell like whiskey and look like something the cat wouldn’t drag in.” Georgia was on a roll. “I bet you didn’t even clean up before you came to town. You got dirt under your fingernails and horse shit still on your boots.” She pushed him toward the doors. “I swear, Tinch, germs wouldn’t even live on you.”
“You finished?” he asked, figuring he probably deserved anything she said. She’d guessed right about him not cleaning up. He’d worked with the horses until dark, then climbed in his truck and headed to town for a few drinks.
“No, I’m not finished,” she answered as she shoved him outside. “Lori Anne died three years ago, and nothing is going to bring her back. It’s time you got on with your life.”
Tinch didn’t hate Georgia. He hated the whole world. No one seemed to understand. He didn’t have a life to go on with without Lori Anne. She’d been his best friend through school, his lover as soon as they both turned sixteen, and his wife the winter after they’d both graduated from high school. With his parents dead, Lori Anne had been his friend, his lover, his wife, his family, his world. When she’d died of cancer, she’d left him hollow and alone. She left him with nothing inside or out.
He stood as a tiny BMW pulled up to the curb. “How am I supposed to get in that thing? It looks like she drove it off a bumper car ride.” He leaned down to see the doctor at the wheel glaring at him. “I’ve seen toys in kids’ meals bigger than this thing.”
Georgia opened the door and helped him in. “You’re going, so stop complaining unless you want to sleep in the maternity ward.”
“No thanks.” He swore as he folded into a pretzel and Georgia shoved.
As he leaned back in the seat, the nurse patted his arm again. “I’m sorry, Tinch, but it’s time someone said something to you. All your friends are worried about you.”
She closed the door without hearing him say, “Tell all my friends to go to hell.”
Thank goodness, the doctor didn’t say a word as she drove away from the hospital. He caught a glance of her in the fading light. A statue of starch and ice, he decided. Strange that such a cold woman would pick a profession like doctor, or maybe it was just him she was so cold toward.
She didn’t ask which house was his. She just drove through the night as he leaned back and wished everything and everyone would go away.
When she pulled up in front of his place, she stopped and said, “You need any help getting in?”
“No,” he snapped as he fumbled for the door.
It took every ounce of his concentration to make it out of the car and up the steps. He heard her drive away as he opened the door and moved inside.
Tinch made it two more feet before he crumbled to his knees. He didn’t cry or scream or cuss. He just leaned forward, his head in his hands, and wished for the thousandth time that he could stop breathing.
A mile away Addison pulled her BMW into the dilapidated garage and walked across the darkened yard to the house she’d rented. As always, she’d forgotten to leave the porch light on. Her only excuse was she’d never lived anywhere but the city. She’d never known such blackness on moonless nights before.
Her body felt numb, she was so tired. When she stepped on the porch, she looked back south toward Tinch Turner’s house. She could barely make out the outline of his place against the sky. He hadn’t turned on a light either. Maybe, like her, he liked the shadows now and then. Stepping inside, she walked across the living room and into her bedroom, stripping off clothes as she moved. By the time she bumped into her bed, she wore only a T-shirt and panties as she tumbled into the unmade bed she’d left almost twenty-four hours before.
“Sleep,” she whispered, knowing that tonight, finally, she would.
Hours later, a knock on her door woke her. For a minute, Addison couldn’t figure out where she was, and then she told herself she was safe. She was in control of her own life. No one was pushing her. Her family didn’t even know where she lived.
When the knock came again, she wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and went to find the noise.
A tall man wearing a western shirt, well-worn and well-fitting jeans, and a cowboy hat stood on her porch. Without the blood and dirt, she almost didn’t recognize Tinch Turner, the bothersome neighbor she’d treated last night. The thought crossed her mind not to answer, but since she hadn’t even latched the screen door last night, and the wooden door stood wide open, it would have been hard to act like she wasn’t home. All he had to do was turn around and he’d see her standing on the other side of the screen.
While she thought about what to do, he shifted and she couldn’t help but think that he was a man built in balance. He was tall, but not lanky, slim, but not thin, with shoulders that looked strong from work and not from pumping iron. He might spend his nights drinking and getting into fights, but he spent his days outside.
Before she could move, he turned and faced her.
She froze, unsure what to do.
His piercing blue eyes drank her in with a slow movement fr
om her toes to her hair.
“What are you doing here?” Addison pulled the blanket closer, as if it offered her some protection.
“I came to say I’m sorry for not thanking you for bringing me home last night.” He smiled, showing straight white teeth, which surprised her. If he’d really been in as many fights as Nurse Veasey claimed, he should have been toothless by now.
“Forget it.” She expected him to turn away, but he didn’t move. Maybe her one neighbor was one too many, Addison thought.
He finally shifted. “I was wondering if I could ride into town with you next time you go. I need to pick up my truck. Ten miles is a little far to walk.”
“Why don’t you call someone?” She didn’t want to get to know Tinch Turner. They had nothing in common, nothing to talk about. With her work schedule she didn’t have time to make friends, and the last thing she wanted was a man in her life. Between a demanding father still trying to direct her life and the memory of a husband from her teens who’d used her as a punching bag, she’d had enough.
“I don’t have a phone,” he said. “Never needed one until today.”
The idea that someone might not have a phone, even a cell phone, was out of her realm of reasoning. She’d gotten her first phone when she was in grade school and carried a cell since high school. “How’d you get to my porch?”
“I walked. I don’t think it’s a mile between my house and yours. If you skip the road and head across the field, it’s not even that far. When the Rogerses lived here, they’d always ring that bell if they needed me and I’d run over.” He pointed to the corner of the porch as if she might not have noticed the huge bell mounted on the railing. “Course, they were both hard of hearing, so I always said I’d fire off a shot and hit the bell if I needed them.”
Addison thought of slamming the door. She didn’t have time for small talk. “Look.” She decided to be direct. “You woke me up. I worked a twenty-hour shift and I’m not due back till noon.” She felt for her watch, trying to remember where she’d left it. “What time is it, anyway?”
“Noon,” he said. “I figured you’d be awake.”
“Oh no!” She looked past him at the cloudy day. If she’d been guessing, she would have thought it was closer to dawn.
Running toward the bedroom, she yelled over her shoulder. “I’ll be ready in ten minutes. You can ride along, but I’ve got to get to the hospital fast. I’m already on duty.”
Addison showered, pulled on clean clothes, and walked out of her bedroom with her hair still wet.
If she’d thought about it, she might have guessed she’d find Tinch Turner waiting on the porch for her.
Though all the shutters were open, she saw no sign of him outside, or on the porch. Shrugging, she decided he wasn’t her problem.
One step more and she halted. The cowboy was standing in her kitchen, a tea towel tucked into his jeans like an apron and his hat pushed back.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Anger and panic warred inside her. He was in her house! She knew he was wild, probably violent and possibly crazy.
“Well, Doc, I couldn’t find much in the way of real food, but I made you an egg sandwich.”
“You’re cooking?” It seemed a strange thing to do before he killed her, but Addison had slept through the few psych classes she’d taken.
“I figured you’d want to eat something before you go.” He raised an eyebrow. “You planning on leaving with a wet head?”
“Look, Mr. Turner. I’m not your problem and I’m leaving.” Addison rushed toward her purse. “If you want a ride, you’d better be in the car when I back out of the garage.”
She knew she was probably overreacting, but she’d had all she wanted of him or any controlling man, and if he was insane, she had pepper spray in her purse. Somewhere!
“I don’t need someone worrying about my hair or if I’m eating,” she said as she kept looking and tried not to sound panicky. “I am none of your concern. I can take care of myself, and I moved here with the nearest neighbor a mile away for a reason.”
She wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d yelled at her and stormed out, and she wouldn’t care. He’d stepped over the line when he’d stepped into her house.
Gripping the spray can in a death grip, she hurried for the door.
He met her there, the egg sandwich in his hand.
She raised the pepper spray and widened her stance, then looked up into laughing eyes.
“Sorry, Doc.” He held the door for her as he wrapped the sandwich in a paper towel, unaware she’d been ready for an attack.
With a huff, she stormed past him.
“I’m guessing you’re not a morning person,” he said, matching her long strides to the garage.
When she glared at him across the hood and opened her mouth, he added, “I know, none of my concern.”
She didn’t look at him as she started the car and drove toward town. He had the good sense not to say a word. He just sat, his shoulder almost touching hers in the small car, and ate the egg sandwich.
When she pulled into the parking lot, he climbed out and yelled, “Thanks for the ride,” as she rushed away.
An hour later, when she told Georgia Veasey about how he’d walked right into her house and made himself at home in the kitchen, Georgia laughed.
“Tinch grew up on that land. I’m guessing he’s been walking into the Rogers house all his life.”
“It’s my place now,” Addison said. “And from now on I’m keeping the doors locked. If I never see Tinch Turner again, it’ll be too soon.”
Georgia shrugged. “When he comes in to get the stitches removed, I’ll take care of him. He’s a good man on bad times. You might want to get to know him.”
“Thanks, but I’m not looking for a man, period.” Addison had never said anything to anyone in Harmony about being married in her teens or how her father’s determination to direct her life had driven her to Harmony, but Nurse Veasey must have sensed something was broken inside her, and she’d been kind enough not to rush in and try to fix it.
Georgia had offered her friendship without strings. She’d probably noticed that Addison lived at the hospital and slept at a rented house she had leased fully furnished. She had no social life except dinner after work with Georgia and her husband now and then.
When Addison got home that night, she found a loaf of bread and a dozen eggs on her porch. No note. He knew she’d know who they were from. It wasn’t a peace offering, it was simply replacing what he’d taken.
She looked to the south and saw a single light shining in the barn beside his house. Somehow the light made her feel even more alone than she already was, but alone was a great deal better than the hell of her marriage or living closer to her father.
Chapter 6
MONDAY
SEPTEMBER 12
TURNER RANCH
TINCH WORKED WITH THE MATHESONS’ HORSE UNTIL LONG after dark. All day he’d felt lousy. Not only did he have a headache and a hangover, but he’d made a fool of himself yesterday. Any nitwit would know not to walk into a strange woman’s house and start cooking breakfast. She probably thought he was a product of too much inbreeding in this town. What had he figured, that she’d be happy he’d cooked her eggs? That it would be a peace offering so she wouldn’t look at him as if she’d seen his picture on a Wanted poster?
Hell no.
The lady had big city written all over her, and he’d just proven to her that she was living next door to a hick. He wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d stopped halfway to town and made him get out so she could run over him. Probably the only reason she hadn’t was because she was on duty and would have to be the one to patch him up.
“Crazy thing is,” he said to the horse, “from the way I acted, speed bumps are about my equal in brain cells.”
The animal tried to nip at the brand on his jeans pocket, and Tinch decided even the horse didn’t want to visit with him.
He’d heard of
women who hate men, but he could never remember being so close to one. He felt sorry for the first guy who accidentally touched her. She’d probably slice his fingers off with a scalpel. She was pretty, in a plain kind of way, if you liked washed-out women with no hairstyle or makeup. And she was jumpy too, like a newborn colt in a lightning storm.
Tossing the brush in the tub, Tinch led the horse into the first stall. Another few days and the animal would be gentle enough to take back to the Matheson place for their little girl to ride. He’d worked with the palomino for three months, and she was ready to join the family. The wounds where the animal had been mistreated by her first owner had healed, but the scars were still there beneath the hair.
He had no doubt that little Saralynn Matheson would show the horse only kindness and her uncle Hank would keep a close eye on them both.
Tinch checked on the other horses, each damaged in some way the vet couldn’t fix, and others about to go through a hard birthing that would need someone close to help. When he walked out the barn door, he noticed the lights were on at the Rogerses place. The angry doctor was home. If she could call it home? Except for a few clothes scattered around, the place looked exactly like it had the night the Rogerses were killed. They’d been in a bad car accident last winter. As far as he knew, the daughter didn’t take anything but a few pictures out of the house after the funeral. She wanted to sell the place as is. When that didn’t work, she had a leasing company rent it out. No one had ever driven out to look at it until the doctor moved in.
Tinch had always thought some farmer would buy the property. He would have bought it if he’d been able to scrape up the money. The land was good and water ran through it all year round. There were even a few fishing holes on the spread that he used to love going to as a kid. The house was small, but it would make a good starter place.
If all Addison Spencer wanted was somewhere to crash between shifts, why hadn’t she rented an apartment in town? Why come all the way out here?
