“What about you?”
He glanced behind him again. “I don’t like hunting.”
I nodded. “Me, either.”
He accepted that. “But you’re a girl. You’re not supposed to.”
Not sure I could change his attitude in one casual conversation, I didn’t bristle. “I’d rather hike or ride my horse, or do something else outside than sit in a blind and wait for birds.”
He smiled that kind of kid smile that made me want to ruffle his hair and hug him. “You ride horses? Man, I’d love to do that.”
If I still lived at Frog Creek and had access to horses, I’d invite the kid out tomorrow instead of him having to go hunting with a bunch of hungover urban warriors.
He munched a french fry. “I thought I’d like it. I mean, I’m in Boy Scouts, and we camped and learned all this cool stuff about setting up camps and outdoor survival. But hunting is a lot of sitting around.”
“Hey, Ethan.” A slight man with light-colored hair and a thin scruff of blond beard threw an arm around the kid. “Who’s your lady?”
Ethan colored and stared at his plate. This must be the man responsible for giving Ethan the idea that girls shouldn’t hunt. If it weren’t for Ethan, I’d have ignored him. But I wanted to take the attention away from the poor kid, who didn’t deserve to be embarrassed for talking to me.
I held my hand out. “I’m Kate.”
The guy slapped his palm on the back of Ethan’s head. “Ethan is a real ladies’ man.” He took my hand. “I’m Tony. Brought my nephew out here on his first hunting trip. It’s the rite of passage for our clan. My dad brought me and my brother out here when we were Ethan’s age. So I’m doing the uncle thing and making sure the kid gets to do it, too. My sister isn’t married, so I’m the man in Ethan’s life.”
Isn’t that nice. Every kid needs a jerk to look up to. I mentally slapped myself for my rush to judgment. Tonight, any man over Ethan’s age wasn’t likely to get a fair shake with me. “I’m sure you’ll have a great time.”
Even though I shifted forward and hunched over my beer a little, the guy didn’t take the hint. He stepped up to the bar stool between me and Ethan and rested one hip on it. “I’m from Omaha. I’m a CPA.”
CPA Tony from Omaha didn’t need to carry his Smarmy Card for me to know he wasn’t my type. I tossed him a discouraging one-quarter smile and studied my beer.
He persisted. “So, you’re from around here? What do you guys do for fun? When it isn’t hunting season, I mean.”
I glanced at the mirror over the bar. Ethan had devoured half his hamburger and made a dent in the fries. He looked up and caught my eye, and I swear those big brown eyes sent me a sincere apology for his uncle’s boorishness. I think Ethan and I could be friends. I winked at him, and he grinned back.
Tony leaned on the bar, blocking my view of Ethan. “My aunt lives here. You might know her—Deb Holt?”
I could tell Tony that Deb’s dog, an Australian shepherd / blue heeler mix, was named Buster and Deb baked the worst lemon meringue pie in the county. She made garish Christmas wreaths, one of which graced my front door at Frog Creek since she’d given it to us for a wedding gift. She and Dahlia were so tight they had to unzip if one went on vacation.
He gave me a loose smile. “She usually cooks a big meal for us on Saturday night of opening season, but she had a big wedding or something.”
Yeah, or something.
“So, we’re here. It’s fortunate, or I’d never have met you.”
And our relationship felt so meaningful.
“I thought everyone out here was related or something. How come you’re not at the wedding?”
I drank my beer and didn’t answer. Tony didn’t seem to notice.
All the while, Tony leaned closer, his whiskey breath washing over me. “So, Ethan and I have a room upstairs. But Ethan, he likes to play games on his phone, so he’s good down here for an hour or so.”
“This is your bonding time with your nephew. I couldn’t interfere with that.” I should have left it at that, but this wasn’t a great night for me and men. “Besides, you’re a creep.”
I didn’t know Twyla had been watching the whole scene, but her cackle made Tony whip his head up and frown. Without another word to me, Tony motioned to Ethan. “You about done?” He stomped off to his group. Ethan gifted me with another cute grin, then slipped off his stool, leaving his decimated meal behind him as he followed his uncle.
I wound the scarf around my neck, pulled on my cap, buttoned up, and hit the door into the frigid night. I should go home. Barring that, I’d be better served to walk out of town and wander a dark country road until I wore myself out.
I turned up Main Street. Did I want to torture myself? Vehicles not only lined the street heading up to the Legion, but side streets also looked like parking lots. I counted my sister Louise’s old Suburban, brother Michael’s shiny Ford pickup, Douglas’s university-issued Jeep Wagoneer, Jeremy’s dented Ford. With Sarah and Robert on their way home, that accounted for all my brothers and sisters in the county. I knew they only attended to help me out, so why did I feel betrayed?
See? I was right. I shouldn’t have come up here. I turned to hurry down the hill, but before I got to the Long Branch, the sound of boys laughing, someone barfing, and the smell of cigar smoke wafted from the alley next to the bar.
Despite mind-blowing technological advances, some things, particularly in Hodgekiss, never changed. The only difference for me is that now, I was the disapproving adult, not the recalcitrant kid. I paused at the mouth of the alley and folded my arms.
The Husker kid noticed me first, and he took off on a dead run out the other end of the alley. One kid stayed on his hands and knees, head hung toward a puddle of vomit. Four other boys stood around him in various stages of alarm.
I deepened my voice to sound stern. “You boys get back inside.” I extended my arm. “Hand over the booze and cigars.”
The tallest kid tossed his head. “We don’t have—”
The kid who’d run into me earlier shoved the tall one. “Forget it. Give it to her.”
Glad they didn’t put up a fight, I accepted their nearly empty bottle of Wild Turkey and their last cigar. The kid on the ground staggered to his feet, and the boys filed out of the alley. I hated to see Ethan, the smallest and youngest by a few years, in tow with the older boys. Head down, he lifted his eyes for a shamed second and slumped off.
I’d had enough of the evening and beat cleats to my parents’ house to watch movies on TMC until the wee hours.
* * *
My phone woke me a few hours after dawn. I’d never slept this late when I lived at Frog Creek. There. That’s a good thing about not being a rancher anymore. The phone rang again, and I thought hard before snaking my hand from the cocoon of quilts. Milky autumn sun struggled through the open curtains, not bright enough to afford any warmth to my childhood bedroom on the second story of my parents’ house.
I snagged the phone and burrowed deeper into my bed. Sarah sounded breathless, and the static rumble of a pickup on the road rattled her voice. “What have you heard?”
This wasn’t good. I stretched my feet to the freezing sheets at the bottom of my bed, wide awake. “About what?”
Her voice pulled away from the phone, talking to Robert, I assumed. “She doesn’t know anything.” To me: “A kid’s gone missing. One of the hunters. News came over the police scanner at Mom’s, and she called. We’re heading in to help the search.”
I whipped the quilt back and jumped up. “What kid? Where is everyone gathering?”
“You know what I know, except we’re meeting at the Long Branch. I hope you get elected because I like having the inside scoop.”
My feet, nearly numb from the icy floor, hopped to the top of the stairs and propelled me down to the relative warmth. “I’ll meet you there.”
I hoped Dad was home from his last trip and had made coffee. More importantly, he had a preternatural a
bility to know everything in the county. He could fill me in on the details of the missing kid.
Sadly, no coffee in the pot, only the rattling of Mom in the basement, still in her creative mania.
In less than twenty minutes, I’d showered, dressed in my warmest, from long johns to insulated coveralls, and joined a gathering crowd at the Long Branch, sipping Twyla’s chest-hair-growing java and trying to get information. Along with neighbors and friends, all the daily faces of my life, hunters in their camo and Cabela’s chic gathered with worried faces.
All those boys in the alley last night, it could be any one of them, but I pictured Ethan. His expressive dark eyes and silky hair falling across his forehead. I’d wanted to hug him and protect him last night. That urge only grew the longer we waited for information.
I found Michael, Douglas, Robert, and Sarah at the corner of the bar. They were similarly outfitted as I was, all ready to face the frosty morning searching for a lost kid.
The bar was packed, the noise level high, electric worry passed from one knot of folks to another. Along the bar, Violet and Rose, Ted’s aunts, seemed out of place. They weren’t known for their outdoorsy ways, and neither wore heavy weather gear. Violet’s back faced me, her short hair permed and teased. Rose’s eyes glittered with excitement, as if watching a football game or action movie. Violet’s arm tugged at something and twisted, and my campaign poster slipped from its place on the cash register and fell to the floor, where Violet wiped her boots on it.
Rose laughed, then her eyes lit on me and she froze, turned red, and backed into the crowd.
The door opened, and everyone stirred. Voices escalated, feet shuffled, and people moved aside to let the entourage into the middle of the bar.
Dang it. Even though I’d braced for it, had my fences shored up and gates closed, the first glance of Ted shattered me. He leaned on his cane, still unsteady from the gunshot he’d taken to his spine in April. Despite that, he had the powerful look of confidence. Dark hair, a scruff of whiskers that would be thick come evening, broad shoulders, and all that dreamy attractiveness I’d gotten used to in our eight years of marriage. I began my mental litany to gain perspective: He cheated. He lied. He betrayed me. What I thought was love was my imagination. I’m better off without him.
All of that happened in a heartbeat, and I inhaled a stabilizing breath, fairly certain if anyone had been watching me, they’d never see the battle under the surface.
Roxy flounced beside Ted, one hand protectively on his shoulder, the other out, like an offensive lineman protecting the halfback. Instead of shoulder pads and helmet, she shone with her usual flash and sparkle, wearing a low-cut, rhinestone-studded T-shirt and puffy down vest. She chirped like a self-important canary—a newly married one. “Careful. You don’t want to reinjure the sheriff. Give him some space so everyone can hear him.”
Conversation dwindled, and the room quieted. Ted took to his spotlight like a cat in a basket of warm laundry. He didn’t smile, of course; that wouldn’t look good. But he played the hero like Ben Affleck, down to the square chin. “Thank you, everyone, for coming out today. As you’ve heard, we’ve got a little boy missing. His name is Ethan Holt.”
Even if I’d suspected, hearing his name was a punch to my heart.
Ted spread his concern to each person, making eye contact. “Ten years old. He’s from Omaha. Last seen just before daybreak.”
Another stir by the door, and the crowd spit out Tony, with a tearful Deb Holt behind him. Tony’s face flushed crimson, and he stuttered. “M-m-m-my nephew. We were hunting up on my aunt’s alfalfa field. I don’t know what happened. Ethan was there, and we flushed the birds. When I turned around, he was gone.”
Deb broke down in wails. “He’s a city kid. And the snow’s fixing to start.”
Dahlia stood behind Deb. She patted Deb’s back and her lips moved, probably in comforting words. But Dahlia’s eyes scanned the room with calculation. No doubt she weighed how the popular vote played out for Ted.
Ted stood tall, putting his weight on his good leg, not using his cane. “Just beyond that alfalfa pivot is the Middle Loup River. Lots of rushes and cattails. There’s any number of cattle or wildlife trails Ethan could have taken.”
Deb spun around and threw her arms around Dahlia.
The longer Ted stood there, the more he looked like Superman, all broad-chested and full of purpose. Dahlia’s eyes gleamed with pride as she watched him. Pride and something else. Satisfaction?
Ted’s gaze swept across the room. He pointed to the far corner. “Tuff, you take a bunch and start at the east end of the Holt headquarters.”
Several people murmured their affiliation with Tuff’s contingent. Ted continued to assign areas to different groups. The hunters, as well as the Sandhillers, seemed to gather strength from Ted’s command.
Because I couldn’t stand to look at Ted anymore, my gaze rested on Dahlia. I caught the sly look, shorter than a sparrow’s heartbeat, that passed between her and Tony.
My focus shifted to Tony. When he’d spoken to us, he’d been distraught. But now, with no one paying attention to him, he looked less than worried. He even managed a sleazy smile in my direction.
Sarah slapped my arm. “Let’s go.”
I must have given her a blank expression. She snapped her fingers in front of my face as if releasing me from a trance. “The south fork of the Loup? The Foxes are searching there.”
My gaze tripped back to Tony, who didn’t appear to be in a hurry to find Ethan. Dahlia left Deb’s side and made her way to Ted and Roxy, her body language screaming victory.
I’d seen that look on Dahlia’s face before. About a month before Ted and I were married, Dahlia had invited us to a competition at her shooting club in Broken Butte. Deep in the throes of new love, I’d have followed Ted down a raging waterfall. Back then, I hadn’t learned Dahlia could be much more dangerous than any wild river. When Roxy just happened to be entered into the competition, I’d tried to give Dahlia the benefit of the doubt. But wearing the same smug expression on her face as today, she’d innocently reminded me how Ted and Roxy had been shooting champions in high school. Back when they’d been voted cutest couple at Hodgekiss High.
Sarah tugged on my arm. “Come on.”
“No.” The word slipped out without much thought.
Robert, Sarah’s husband and my big brother by less than a year, whipped his head around. “No?”
His tone caught Douglas’s and Michael’s attention on their way toward the door. The twins, looking as much alike as a cuddly teddy bear and a pit bull, spun to me. Michael, the dog, pulled his head back as if I’d slapped him. “There’s a little boy out there, and you’re not going to help find him?”
While plenty of people had already filed out, there were enough bunched at the door that I felt nailed with hostile eyes.
I didn’t normally rejoice to see my oldest sister, Louise, but her voice punched through the blocked doorway, making me grateful for her distraction. “We’ll set up headquarters here. Twyla will keep the coffeepot on, and I’ve got snacks. Sandwiches at noon, of course.”
She muscled her way against the tide, carrying a food service tray of cupcakes, several of them picked off by those leaving the Long Branch. Louise baked with the zeal of a half dozen Keebler elves on speed and was about the size and shape of double that many elves squished together. She set the tray on a table and stood back, waiting for praise.
When none of us said anything, she opened her hands toward the tray. “Genius, huh?”
I bent over the dozens of chocolate cupcakes. Vote for Kate Fox was piped in red onto each frosted top.
A self-congratulatory grin spread across her face. “I’m calling them Kate Cakes.”
Michael grabbed a cupcake and shoved it in his mouth. Louise lunged for him, like Jell-O on skates. “Those are for the voters.”
Michael’s answer arrived muffled in cake. “Election’s over. Kate lost.”
Louise ga
sped. “Don’t you say that. I know it doesn’t look great right now, but there are still ten days before the election, and if we all make an effort to get out there, Kate will—”
Douglas shook his head. “Ted set up the search and rescue, and Kate’s refusing to go.”
He had that wrong. “I’m not refusing. There’s no need because Dahlia—”
Louise’s eyes popped wide in shock, and her mouth started before she drew a breath. “You what? Of course you’re going to look for him. Even if you didn’t need to do it to show what a good citizen you are, you have to do it because he’s a little boy in trouble.”
Our little circle of Foxes all nodded in agreement, with most throwing in a “Yeah” or “That’s right.”
Almost everyone had filtered out of the Long Branch by then, leaving our clan to duke it out, me against everyone.
I knew Dahlia was up to something. At least, I thought I knew. “Dahlia staged this whole event.” But what if I was wrong?
Louise rolled her eyes. Douglas’s mouth quirked up, maybe in amusement. Everyone else carried various levels of disbelief. They all looked like a big pile of put-out.
Sarah spoke with her trademark frankness. “We know Dahlia likes to pull strings and watch the puppets dance. And if she could swing popularity in Ted’s direction, she’d do that. But, really, using a kid? When there’s a storm coming?”
Robert nodded. “That’s low, even for Dahlia.”
I had to defend myself now, even if that little sliver of doubt nagged at me. “Dahlia’s manipulations have no bottom.”
Louise planted her hands on her hips. “Are you trying to lose this election? After all we’ve done to help you get elected? I’ve been baking for six months straight. The kids put up posters everywhere.”
Michael, alpha pit bull, joined in. “And I got you that speaking gig at the Lion’s Club.”
I didn’t let that one go. “You invited Ted, too.”
Michael shrugged. “I had to. But at least you got to say your piece.”
Close Enough Page 2
