Melted sleet soaked my coveralls. My socks, damp from sweat, chilled my feet. What kind of protection did Ethan wear?
From far away, the roar of Dahlia’s pickup grew until Roxy pulled up next to me and slid the window down. The heat of the cab puffed across my cheeks. I needed to get Ethan out of this cold and into that comfort. “Anything?” I asked Roxy.
She shook her head and waited for instructions.
I nodded to the south. “Go that way. Honk your horn and call for him. I’ll head north.” The window slid up, but I slammed my gloved palm on it. “You don’t need to go more than five miles. He couldn’t have traveled any farther than that.” I didn’t watch her drive away.
A thin layer of slush accumulated on the one-lane road but was not solid enough to hold a footprint. Why hadn’t we brought phones? Someone might have come along the road and picked him up. He could back at the Long Branch right now, enjoying hot chocolate and a Kate Cake. I could have called Ted and redirected the search. If Roxy came back to me before I found Ethan, I’d have her drive back to the ranch and call.
Keeping a steady pace down the road and shouting his name after every inhale, I stopped less and less frequently to listen, feeling defeated. What was my next plan? “Ethan!” I plopped my hands on my knees to catch my breath.
My ears perked before my brain registered. Was that…? “Ethan!” I shouted again, though my voice sounded like gravel in a tin cup. I picked up my feet and ran flat out, believing I’d heard a high-pitched response. I stopped again. Yelled, listened.
“Here!” Closer this time.
Encouraged, I sprinted up a hill. To the right side of the road, a lone elm grew. I’d always loved that silly tree, knowing it beat the odds. A random bird dropped a random seed in a low spot where every now and again, some moisture accumulated, and perhaps the groundwater rose close to the surface. The seed sprouted and fought to exist.
I loved this tree even more now. This is where Ethan had dragged two soggy paper sacks, empty of the fifty pounds of cattle feed and probably blown out of a rancher’s pickup bed weeks before. He’d propped them in the branches and constructed the sides of his fort with tumbleweeds rammed together. While not dry, it was drier than being in the open and probably a lot warmer out of the wind and trapping his little bit of body heat.
Ethan jumped up when he saw me. “It’s you!”
Not waiting to see if he wanted me to or not, I threw my arms around him and gave him a mother-bear hug. “Are you okay?”
I held him back for inspection, unwilling to let go of his shoulders. He wore full camo coveralls and an extra jacket. An Elmer Fudd cap with earflaps down held in body heat, and gloves protected his fingers. Sturdy boots completed the ensemble that kept him from freezing. Still, he had to be miserable. I know I was.
Ethan’s expressive eyes showed worry. “Uncle Tony told me to stay there until an old lady came to get me, but my phone died, and it got really smoky inside. I thought I could maybe walk back to town.”
I put an arm around his shoulder. “I’m so sorry you had to go through this.”
He acted skeptical. “I’m not in trouble?”
“No.” I hugged his shivering frame close to me. “Our ride is coming along soon. We’ll get you warmed up and into dry clothes before you know it.”
He pointed to the tree. “Did you see my shelter? I learned about that in Boy Scouts. It really helped.”
A big old lump of emotion made me swallow hard to clear my throat. “You’re awesome.”
He grinned and puffed up. “I think Uncle Tony will let me tell that to the sheriff and stuff. Even though I’m not supposed to say anything except act all happy to be rescued and even cry. But I’m not going to cry because, hello, I’m ten.”
The sound of a vehicle approaching made us stop. I’d expected Roxy from the south, but this came from the north. I didn’t have to see his grille emerge from the fog fifty yards ahead to recognize the unique purr of his engine. Elvis to the rescue. Too bad he had to be driven by Dahlia.
Ethan whistled. “Su-weet.”
I liked him even more. “Meet Elvis, my one true love.”
Ethan turned surprised eyes to me. “That’s your car?”
We waited for Dahlia to stop. She flung open Elvis’s door and flew out. “Oh, thank God. You’re okay.”
I ushered Ethan to the passenger seat. “No thanks to you.” I settled him and made my way to the driver’s side. I bashed into Dahlia, who seemed rooted to the road.
She sounded nervous, a little wavery. “We can put Ethan on the console between us.”
I spared her one scornful glare, my foot inside the car, hand on the door. “It’s only seven or so miles to the ranch.”
She looked as though I’d handed her a death sentence. “But I’m not dressed for it. I don’t have a hat or boots.”
“Walk fast and you’ll be fine.” Roxy would be along before Dahlia’s first shiver, but she didn’t need to know that.
I hopped in Elvis, cranked the heat, made a three-point turn in the road, and gunned it to town.
On the way back, Ethan told me the plan. Tony said they were playing a practical joke on Ethan’s father. The guy hadn’t paid child support in two years and hadn’t even called Ethan on his last birthday. Ethan thought if he went missing, it might jolt his father into realizing how much he loved him.
Tony, you lowlife. Teaching a kid to manipulate and lie. Not to mention setting Ethan up for devastation if his father didn’t respond. I wanted to stuff Dahlia and Tony in a burlap sack, tie it to a rock, and drop them in the Middle Loup. Of course, that river was shallow enough they could stand up. But it would scare the bejeezus out of them.
Before we turned from the oil strip to the highway leading to Hodgekiss, Dahlia’s Barbie truck popped over a hill far behind us. Roxy flashed her lights in a not-so-subtle call for me to pull over. I kept going.
Knowing lectures never work, I had to give it a try anyway. I wasn’t likely to see Ethan again, so I took the only chance I had. “It must feel awful that your father doesn’t pay more attention to you. But your mother loves you. And you’ve got an uncle who cares.” That last sentence made me cringe.
Ethan looked less than thrilled with mention of Tony. “I guess.”
I spoke this most important truth slowly and clearly, hoping it would sink in enough for him to remember. “You can’t force someone else to be the person they should be. The only thing you have control over is yourself and how you react.”
He stared at his gloved hands in his lap.
I listened to the words. Good advice, Katie.
I spoke gently because guilt is a heavy club. “I know you only wanted your father to pay attention to you, but a lot of good people are out in the cold, searching through the hills, worried sick about you. That’s not fair.”
He brought his head up to look at me, tears pooling in those sweet eyes. “I didn’t think.”
I patted his camo-clad leg. “I know.” I bit back the rant about how Tony should have thought and how this whole fiasco was Dahlia’s fault and that Ethan was only a pawn. All of that was true. But Ethan needed to own up to his part without shifting blame.
He squeaked in a little mouse voice, “What are you gonna do?”
“When we get to the Long Branch, you’re going to go up to your room and take a hot shower to warm up. I’m going to call your uncle and the searchers and tell them you’re okay.”
He blanched. “Don’t make me talk to the people. Please. Please.”
A shard of my heart broke off. “No. I’ll give Tony a head start so he can get to town first, pick you up, and be on your way to Omaha before the others get back.”
He lowered his head, and tears plopped onto his leg, even though he was ten. He whispered, “Thanks.”
I dialed the number Ethan gave me. Not surprising, Tony didn’t seem thrilled I’d found Ethan. Tony assured me he’d talk to Ted and send everyone to town.
We pulled up in fr
ont of the Long Branch, and Ethan shot from Elvis to the outside door leading to the hotel rooms upstairs. I headed to the bar.
The Long Branch was empty and didn’t do much to dispel my chill. Twyla probably prepped for the searchers in the kitchen. Louise would be gathering, cooking, directing. The box of Kate Cakes greeted me, and I grabbed one just as Roxy and Dahlia jetted inside.
Roxy started in as I made my way behind the bar. “Before everyone gets in, we need to talk about this.”
My phone rang, and I held my finger up to silence her. “Hi, Ted.”
Roxy waved at me, her eyes wide and frantic. I turned my back to her.
Ted sounded way more excited than Tony had. “You found him? He’s at the Long Branch?” Relief whooshed through the line, and I struggled with the warring ideas of Ted the Lying, Cheating, Son-of-Boiled-Turnip and Ted the Courageous, Compassionate Sheriff.
Our conversation was brief, and my phone didn’t make it to my pocket before Roxy’s worried jabber commenced. “I’ve been thinking, and we should say that Ethan showed up here. He got lost and walked to town.”
Twyla had stacked thick diner coffee mugs on the bar next to insulated pitchers of coffee in anticipation of returning searchers. I filled one.
Roxy spoke quickly. “You could say you stayed back to help with the food and man the phones. We’ll help Ethan to shore up his story.”
Dahlia, in all her stateliness, stood in the middle of the room, as if awaiting sentencing with dignity.
Roxy, the defending attorney, pleaded the case. “Okay. You can say you found him. That will be good for your campaign, huh? You remembered a place behind your parents’ house and you went there and found him.”
I poured coffee. “I won’t have Ethan lie.”
Roxy stomped a foot in frustration but didn’t argue.
I picked up another cup. “Why wouldn’t I tell the truth? That Dahlia tried to influence the election by staging this circus.”
Roxy shook her head at my gesture to pour her coffee. “It wouldn’t help anyone. Ted didn’t know about this. You know he’d have never allowed it. It wouldn’t be fair to punish him for what Dahlia did.”
I held the cup to Dahlia. “Coffee?”
Her lips flattened, and her nostrils flared.
Roxy picked up a cup and held it out for me to fill. “You don’t want to win this way. You’d rather have a fair fight.”
I filled her cup. “An honorable political campaign? That’s un-American.”
Roxy giggled, putting a hand to her mouth to keep from spewing her coffee. “You’re so funny. I see why Ted fell in love with you.”
Even Dahlia closed her eyes at Roxy’s cluelessness.
The glass door banged open. Two seven-year-old cowboys barreled in, each with a rope in one hand and a sack of hamburger buns in another. Louise bounced in, hot on their trail. “Mose. Zeke. Put those buns on the table. Don’t make a mess.”
Dahlia drew herself up as if afraid of being damaged by the twins. Roxy whipped her face toward me, clearly pleading with me.
Louise’s attention ricocheted from Dahlia, to Roxy, to me. Hands full of a two-gallon Tupperware container of potato salad, stacked with a covered cake pan and her famous Jell-O mold, Louise broke into a grin. “Sarah called. You found him! This is so great. I brought more Kate Cakes. Everyone is going to celebrate.”
She plopped the food onto a table, not noticing Dahlia and Roxy hadn’t moved. “Tell me everything.”
Twyla sauntered from the kitchen, unlit cigarette in her mouth. “Yeah. Tell us.”
Roxy swallowed hard. Dahlia managed to look down her nose at me from halfway across the room.
Through the window behind Louise, Tony charged toward the hotel door.
I took a bite of the Kate Cake. I mumbled with a full mouth, “These are excellent.”
Louise huffed in her most annoyed way. “Don’t be a brat.”
The twins took a turn around Dahlia, swinging their ropes and whooping in cowboy fashion. She folded her arms in supreme distaste.
Roxy reminded me of Boomer, my old boxer, and how he used to try to force me to feed him my sandwich with the power of his eyes.
I washed the cupcake down with coffee. “After I thought about it, I remembered a place a kid might be. But Ethan wasn’t there. I searched a bit and found him in a shelter he’d built. Resourceful kid.”
Roxy released 120 psi of air and dropped to a bar stool. Dahlia’s shoulders dropped from her ears, though she kept her superior countenance.
Louise’s tilted head and disapproving expression shouted how much she didn’t believe me.
Tony appeared outside the window carrying two duffels. He opened the back seat of a black SUV and tossed them in. Ethan, in blue jeans and hoodie, scooted after him.
“Where is the little guy?” Louise asked.
Exhaust from the SUV puffed into the gray air. I didn’t really know Ethan, but I thought I might miss him for a long time. “He was pretty worn out, so his uncle loaded him up, and they’re on their way home.”
The passenger door of the SUV popped open, and Ethan tumbled out. He raced to the Long Branch door, and I shot around the bar. I met him as he pushed open the glass door. He sailed right into my hug.
He gave me a short squeeze, and I whispered into his silky hair, “Be good.”
Without another word, he zipped out. He jumped into the SUV, slammed the door, and they drove away.
The first bunch of searchers burst through the doors with excited shouts. Roxy met them, ready to relay all the details of my heroic rescue.
Twyla tugged my arm and squinted in Dahlia’s direction. “That ain’t what really happened.”
I stuffed the rest of my Kate Cake into my mouth. “Close enough.”
Read on for an excerpt from the next Kate Fox novel
DARK SIGNAL
Coming Fall 2017
1
Sometimes, you’ve got no choice in life but to jump off the cliff. I’d jumped and landed on a crumbling ledge, clutching a root to keep from falling.
That’s why I stood sandwiched between Betty Paxton and Ethel Bender in the drafty commissioner’s meeting room at the Grand County courthouse. I raised my right hand and swore away my next four years.
The whiny strains of country music jangled from the radio in the treasurer’s office, one door down. Clete Rasmussen, commissioner since the days of Moses, continued addressing us in his booming, if pained, voice. “I will not advocate nor become a member of any political party or organization that advocates the overthrow of the government of the United States or of this state by force or violence. So help me God.”
My mumbled “I do” mixed with that of Betty and Ethel.
Betty’s spiked hair was probably cutting edge when she first sported the do twenty years ago. Now it reminded me of Bart Simpson. She tossed off a smile. “Good to have you aboard.”
With her scowl and thin lips that looked like someone drew them with a pencil, blue-haired Ethel let out a sigh like a deflating tire.
Betty and Ethel exited the room, leaving me and Clete alone.
This was my first, and hopefully only, pledge to protect and serve the good people of Hodgekiss, Nebraska, and the four widely spread communities that populate the sprawling ranch country of Grand County, where cattle outnumber people by more than sixty to one.
I adjusted the stiff brown shirt I’d washed several times to soften it and smoothed my hands down my hips, knowing the twill uniform pants didn’t flatter my figure. Who cares?
Clete clapped his hands. “That about does it.”
The bruising purple of evening showed outside the two-foot-high windows that ran along the top of the meeting room. A clear night like this wouldn’t temper January’s knife-cold. It’s the kind of night the cows huddle in the corner of the pasture, pressed close together to share warmth.
I didn’t need to worry about cows anymore. Later tonight, with wool socks keeping my toes toasty, flannel paja
ma pants, and long-sleeve T-shirt, I’d snuggle under a down comforter. Alone.
Clete cleared his throat, a sound like thunder in a box canyon. He lifted a cardboard carton from the hulking desk in the corner. “Here’s the sheriff stuff. Ted dropped it off this afternoon.”
For Ted—the previous sheriff and my husband of eight years and ex-husband of nine months—giving up the tools of the office would have been a knife in his heart. Too bad.
Clete rested the box in my open arms. “There’s the inventory sheet you need to fill out and sign, along with the phone and, uh…”
“The gun.” I finished for him. Taking that gun off his hip must have felt to Ted like disrobing in public. In truth, I probably hated that exchange more than he did. Guns and I didn’t have a love relationship.
“In for a penny, in for a pound,” Dad always said, so I’d better open my heart to the .40 caliber Smith and Wesson. Tomorrow.
The phone in the box let out a chirp so familiar to me, yet one I hadn’t heard in nine months. It took a moment to convince myself it wasn’t Ted’s phone, but the sheriff’s phone. And I was the sheriff.
I set the box on the conference table and pulled the phone out, punching it on. “Sheriff’s phone.” I winced. That’s how I used to answer it when I was Ted’s wife and he was sheriff.
“Whew.”
“Sarah?” I recognized the voice of my best friend and sister-in-law.
She let out a breath of relief. “You didn’t answer your phone, so I took a chance you’d already got this one. I didn’t want to talk to Ted.”
I glanced at Clete, who eyed me with irritation. Or indigestion. With Clete, it was hard to tell. Sarah wasn’t likely to call me to chat, so I stepped into the hall. “What’s up?”
She huffed into the phone. “Damn, it’s freakin’ freezing! Why did you have to be born in January?”
Oh no. My stomach sank. “Tell me it’s not.”
She gave an irritated sigh. “It is. Louise planned a surprise party at your parents’ house. We’re pulling up now.”
Close Enough Page 4
