So, not running. Not yet. But making plans to do that.
Beckham was apparently also making other plans because he went into the tack room, and when he came out, he no longer had the backpack.
“Just look,” Beckham repeated, this time his voice filled with frustration. “I don’t have anybody else I can ask.”
“Yes, you do,” Cleo blurted out. “You can ask me.”
In hindsight, she probably should have gone about this in a more subtle way because it caused Beckham to curse. He immediately shoved his phone in his pocket, and she could practically see him trying to come up with a lie that would explain all of this away.
“What are you two doing out here?” Beckham snapped, and he eyed them with more than just mere suspicion. The eyeing and tone smacked of an accusation. “Are you bringing her here to make out or sleep with her?” he asked Judd.
Cleo huffed, ready to chew him out for even asking such a thing, but she backed down. It would have been hard to be indignant, considering they had indeed been making out just moments earlier.
“That’s the best you can do?” Judd challenged. “You’re caught putting together plans for running away, and you think a question like that is going to let you off the hook? Trust me, it won’t.”
Beckham’s eyes narrowed. Now he was the one huffing. He even kicked at a clump of hay. All posturing so he could delay answering something that he clearly didn’t want to answer.
“I think you owe Cleo the truth, don’t you?” Judd insisted, but his voice wasn’t cop now. It was firm, but gentle.
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Beckham snarled. “I just need to be ready in case something goes wrong. I need to be able to get Isaac and Leo out of here if the social worker tries to take us and put us somewhere we can’t be together.”
Judd went closer. “You had me promise that I wouldn’t let that happen. My words not good enough for you?”
“Say what?” Cleo went closer, too, and she looked at Judd. “What promise? When?”
Judd’s gaze stayed on Beckham’s, and it was Beckham who finally huffed again and then answered. “I’m not letting Isaac and Leo go back to the piss witch.”
“Lavinia,” Judd amended.
“Judd said he wouldn’t let that happen,” Beckham added to her.
Well, heck. Cleo had told the boys the same darn thing. Apparently, Beckham hadn’t believed her because he’d clearly gone to Judd for a backup promise. Or maybe Beckham thought Judd’s was the primary one.
“I swore I wouldn’t let Lavinia get Isaac and Leo,” Judd went on, “and in turn you promised me that you wouldn’t run.”
“I’m not running!” Beckham practically yelled, but the fit of temper was a flash in the pan because it cooled as quickly as it’d come. “This is just a backup plan.”
“And what about the person you were talking to on the phone?” Judd persisted. “Is he or she part of this plan?”
Beckham nodded. “It was a friend. A friend I don’t want to get in trouble so I’m not going to give you his name.”
Cleo sighed. Beckham didn’t have a lot of friends so it wasn’t hard to figure this out. “Mason Daughtry. They’re close,” she informed Judd. “Beckham spent some nights with Mason when Miranda first got sick.” She turned to Beckham again. “You asked Mason to look for a backup place for you to go?”
Beckham nodded.
“And the backpack?” Cleo asked.
Beckham did some more hay kicking before he answered. “Just a few supplies. Snacks. A little cash. Some cat food,” he said in a grumble. “I know I need more money, and that’s why I want to get a job.”
Cleo could have told him all the logistical reasons why it was a bad idea to try to run away from a rural area that didn’t have any form of public transportation. Any snacks in a backpack would quickly get eaten up. The money, too. Plus, the odds were slim that Mason would even find them a hiding place.
But Beckham wouldn’t want to hear logistics.
“How much money do you figure you’ll need?” Judd asked.
Beckham lifted his shoulder. “As much as I can earn.”
Judd nodded, made a sound to indicate he was considering the teen’s answer. “Okay, I’ll give you a job. But there are rules.”
Even after Judd tacked on that last part, Cleo was shaking her head. She didn’t want to make it easier for Beckham to do something stupid. Maybe even dangerous.
“I have two horses,” Judd went on. “You can tend to them for me, and I’ll pay you ten bucks an hour. But the rules are that it can’t interfere with your schoolwork or the other chores you do for Rosy and Buck.”
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” she whispered to Judd. It was an angry whisper.
“It’s what Buck did for me when I first came here.” Judd kept his attention on Beckham when he spoke. “I didn’t know him. Definitely didn’t trust him. And I wanted to be able to get Callen and Nico out of here if things got bad.”
It surprised Cleo that she had forgotten those days, but yes, Judd hadn’t been very trustful. Actually, he still wasn’t. But he hadn’t actually shared any escape plans with her.
“Oh, and FYI, the tack room is a dumb place to hide backup supplies,” Judd told the boy. “Buck’s always in and out of there. Best to put it in the hayloft up in the far right corner.”
Beckham nodded, but the movement had a lot of uncertainty in it. “Why are you helping me?”
Judd shrugged. “To heck if I know. So far, you’ve been a pain in the butt. But maybe you remind me of myself. I was a pain in the butt, too.”
“Yes, that’s what Miss Rosy said,” Beckham muttered under his breath. “You won’t tell them about my backup plans?”
“Oh, I’m sure they already know them,” Judd quickly assured him. “They’ve fostered dozens of kids over the decades, and I figure they’re past the point of a kid doing something they’ve never seen before.”
Maybe it was Judd’s frank way of spelling it out that had Beckham’s shoulders and chin lowering. “I just need to be able to fix things,” he said. “Like my mom used to do.”
Cleo saw it then. Beckham blinking hard and fighting back tears. Dang it. Of course, her own eyes had to get in on that, and she went to Beckham, pulling him into her arms. He went stiff again, but he didn’t try to wiggle away.
“I miss her,” he whispered. “God, I miss Mom so much.”
That cranked up the likelihood that the blinking would fail to hold back the tears that would soon start spilling down her cheeks.
“I miss her, too,” Cleo said despite the thick lump that had formed in her throat. Nothing, maybe not even time, was going to fix that, but Cleo thought of something that might help.
Cleo pulled back so she could look Beckham in the eyes. “Shortly after your mom got sick, she wrote you and your brothers letters that she wanted me to give you on your birthdays. Maybe it would help if you had your letter now?”
“Letters,” he repeated. Dried his eyes with the back of his hand. “What do they say?”
She had to shake her head. “I didn’t read them.” In fact, she hadn’t even known Miranda was going to write them, and it was probably best not to mention that Miranda hadn’t given them to her until just a couple of days before she died. “But I have them in my room here at the ranch if you’d like me to get yours now.”
When Beckham gave her a quick “yes,” Cleo glanced at Judd to make sure he would stay with the boy until she got back. She didn’t think Beckham would try to run, but Cleo also didn’t think it was a good idea for him to be alone right now. Judd gave her a nod so she hurried back to the house.
“Everything okay?” Kace asked as soon as she stepped inside the kitchen.
Since the room was pitch-black, and she hadn’t been expecting anyone, Cleo made a garbled sound of surprise blended with s
ome PG-rated profanity. Kace was at the window, looking out at the barn.
“I think we have everything under control,” Cleo said. “He wasn’t running away but making plans for a possible future run.” She paused. “You knew Beckham had left the house?”
“Big-brother ears.” Kace tapped his own.
It was a reminder that he’d likely had to apply those ears to his own brothers and the troubled pasts they’d brought with them to the ranch. Those ears that might have picked up on other things, too.
“Uh, did you know about Judd and me?” she asked.
“Tonight or when you were teenagers?” Kace countered without hesitating.
Cleo didn’t wince. After all, if she was woman enough to invite herself to a man’s bed, then...okay, she still winced. “Both.”
“Both,” Kace answered.
Obviously, Cleo wasn’t as sneaky as she’d thought she was.
“Normally, Judd just sleeps around,” Kace went on. “One-night stands, that sort of thing.” He looked at her. “You wouldn’t be a one-night stand, Cleo.”
“I sort of was before,” she muttered.
“Only because you were moved to another foster home. This time it wouldn’t be a one-night bang with you two practically already on top of each other.”
She thought Kace meant that as Judd and her living in the same general area and not literally. “Are you trying to say you’d disapprove of me having sex with Judd?”
“I’m just saying go into it with your eyes wide-open. I don’t want anything to happen to send him over the edge.”
Well, no pressure there, and it took care of any lingering heat that was left over from the kissing session she’d just had with Judd. With her mood quickly sinking, she went upstairs, got the letter and then went back outside toward the barn. She hadn’t intentionally planned to go in stealth, but Judd and Beckham obviously didn’t see or hear her because they continued to talk as she approached.
“If you hurt Cleo, I’m going to be really pissed off at you,” Beckham said. She had no idea what had started this particular conversation.
“If I hurt her, I’ll be pissed off at myself.”
Apparently, this was the night for a potential pissing off. And for conversations about Judd and her. But she did like Judd’s answer and smiled a little before she remembered Kace’s warning. The smile came back when she took just one look at Judd the Stud, and the sizzle started up again.
If it was just the issue of her getting hurt, she would go for another round of kissing—that would easily lead to sex. However, Kace had put some doubts in her head—not about her state of mind but Judd’s.
She cleared her throat to let Judd and Beckham know she was there, and they pivoted toward her as if they’d been caught with both hands in a cookie jar. Cleo tried to put on a blank expression, which was impossible to do because it wasn’t just the overheard conversation she was dealing with, but what she was holding in her hand, too.
Cleo gave the letter to Beckham, and he studied it as if trying to figure out what to do with it. “You’ll give Leo and Isaac theirs?” he asked.
“If you want. But I’d rather wait for their birthdays. They might need a lift since it’ll be their first birthdays without their mom.”
With his attention still on the envelope, Beckham nodded, tucked the letter in his shirt pocket and headed back toward the house. He definitely didn’t offer to open it then and there. Something she understood. Reading his mother’s last words was probably something better done in private. Though Cleo was worried about him. Beckham was already dealing with a mountain of emotions, and a letter from the grave might not help.
“I’ll keep an eye on him,” she muttered, and then Cleo turned back to Judd to launch into a discussion about sex.
Cleo wished she had worked up a “check yes or no” box as she’d done when she was sixteen. But even if she had, there wouldn’t have been time for a single check because her phone rang, and she saw Daisy’s name on the screen. Cleo immediately got a bad feeling about this.
That feeling was soon confirmed the moment she heard Daisy’s frazzled voice.
“Cleo,” Daisy greeted. “I really hate to bother you on your night off, but there’s been some trouble.”
Cleo immediately thought of the bachelorette party that should have been over by now, but maybe the bride’s fiancé had caught her fondling Harry’s butt. If so, things could have gotten ugly.
“You need to get to the bar right away,” Daisy added. “Because the cops are here.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE TROUBLE WAS COWS.
Despite it being after midnight, Judd had no problem seeing that the moment Cleo and he pulled to a stop just up the street from the Angry Angus. Except it was back to Anus again. It was hard to notice the sign, though, when there were so many other things to capture his attention.
The dozen or so plastic cows that had once been inside the bar were now on the sidewalk and street.
Not all in one piece, either. From the looks of it, they’d been chopped, hacked and hit, leaving bovine parts scattered all around. The vandal—or rather vandals, since he doubted one person could have done shit like this—had enhanced the parts by splattering what appeared to be gobs of thick red paint over them.
It looked like a scene from a horror movie. Or a frat party gone bad.
Judd had to hand it to Cleo. She didn’t curse or get upset as she sat in the passenger seat of his truck and stared at the carnage. Just in case, though, he gave her arm a little jiggle to make sure she wasn’t in shock.
“When things look bleak, I play a game with myself,” Cleo said. “It’s called BS, as in best scenario.” She stayed quiet a moment, probably trying to come up with something that would fit that particular bill. “The cows look better here than they did inside, and I might get some publicity for the bar out of this.”
Leave it to Cleo to make him smile. Of course, maybe that was going to be the norm for the night since the two uniforms seemed to be fighting back amused expressions. They were in the doorway of the bar, talking to Daisy. No smile for her. Just plenty of puzzlement.
Judd got out when Cleo did, and after he took a whiff of the air, he realized the red gobs weren’t paint after all. Cherry Jell-O was his guess. That smacked of a kids’ prank, but as much of the glop as there was, it would have cost twenty bucks or more for the stuff. He supposed some kids would be willing to dole out that much, but a can of spray paint would have been cheaper.
His phone dinged with a text message. “Kace,” Judd said after glancing at the screen, and Cleo immediately leaned in to read it.
Beckham’s in bed. Will keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn’t leave again, Kace had texted.
Now, Cleo sighed, and Judd knew why. When she’d asked Kace to be a foster parent, she hadn’t planned on shackling him with this much responsibility. Especially since Kace had to be at work in the morning. But maybe this kind of “emergency” wouldn’t come up very often.
The moment Daisy saw her boss walking up the sidewalk, she started toward her. “Sorry to make you drive out here this time of night,” Daisy whispered. The woman had boxes tucked under each arm. “But I didn’t want to sign the cops’ report until you had a chance to look at it.”
Cleo gave her a pat on the arm and walked closer to the uniforms. “I’m guessing someone found the cows in the alley, dragged them out here and did this?” Cleo asked the cops.
“We’re hoping that’s what happened,” one of them said. “They’re mechanical. Did you know that?”
“Yes, but it’s only to make their mouths move,” Cleo said. “And to make mooing sounds. We didn’t turn them on when they were in the bar because it sounded more like farts than moos.”
The cop actually jotted that down.
“The mechanical movement wouldn’t have allowed t
hem to walk out here,” Cleo added, and she said it with a straight face, too.
“No, but they freaked out some kids,” the uniform explained. According to his name tag, he was Sanchez. “Witnesses said they saw and heard some kids yelling and running so maybe they got scared and...beat up the cows.” His lips twitched as he fought back a laugh, and Judd couldn’t blame him. If he’d gotten this call, he would have had trouble not seeing the humor in it, too, and he rarely saw humor in anything.
“You on the force?” the other uniform, Davidson, asked when his attention shifted to Judd.
Judd nodded. “Deputy Judd Laramie, Coldwater PD.” He tipped his head to the security camera. “Did you get anything from that?”
Sanchez and Davidson both shook their heads, and it was Sanchez who continued. “Somebody smeared it up good with Jell-O, but they started with a spray of Extra Creamy Dreamy whipped cream.”
“And the camera didn’t pick up who did that?” Cleo persisted.
“No. The vandal stayed to the side, just out of camera range. All you can see is a gloved hand holding a party-sized can of Extra Creamy Dreamy.”
So, the person had been aware of where to stand, and that likely meant this wasn’t his or her first time here. The glove could have been worn so there wouldn’t be fingerprints, but it was possible the whipped-cream sprayer believed that Cleo would recognize whose bare hand had disabled the camera.
“Like I said, we got witnesses,” Sanchez went on. “Some said they heard a ruckus in the alley. Some heard kids running and yelling. But nobody saw how the cows got here.”
“Were there customers still inside?” Cleo asked.
“Just a few.” That from Daisy. “Some stragglers from the bachelorette party. Harry, Monica and Tiffany.” Daisy rolled her eyes. “They said they didn’t see or hear anything.”
“Uh, we had to give the cowboy a warning,” Sanchez explained. “He can’t be out here on a public sidewalk with his butt exposed like that.”
Judd recalled the strippers Cleo had been auditioning when he’d visited her here, and yeah, an exposed butt would have violated a few laws. Maybe Cleo wouldn’t get dragged into that. Especially since the cows were going to be enough of a problem. No witnesses and a camera that’d been tampered with meant reports and maybe even an insurance claim.
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