Farraday Country

by Chris Keniston

  “You can’t cook?”

  “I can cook. Well, I can grill. I serve a mean steak, pretty good chicken, no one can match my corn on the cob, and I do okay with hotdogs and hamburgers. But unless it involves scooping out cookie dough ice cream, desserts are not my specialty.”

  “I love cookie dough ice cream.” Hannah almost bounced off the cushion. “I love cookie dough anything. Almost as much as I love s’mores”

  “There are lots of brands with s’mores flavored ice cream.”

  “Yeah, but I’m waiting for Blue Bell to master it.”

  “Ah, a true diehard Texan.”

  “Born and bred.” She lifted her chin proudly then pierced another marshmallow. “Last one. I promise.’

  “It’s okay,” he shrugged, “they say chocolate is an antioxidant.” He was enjoying sitting on the floor with her in front of the fireplace almost as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

  The sound of car doors slamming carried into the house. Turning his wrist, the time of day startled him. He’d have sworn they’d only been chatting and eating for a brief while. No wonder she was swearing off any more s’mores, they’d been stuffing their faces between conversations for over two hours.

  “Oh my God, what a great idea!” For a woman carrying an extra load of baby front and center, Toni Farraday made a beeline for the fireplace with the agility of a much lither person, and dragged the nearest chair up close to Hannah. “May I borrow your fork?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Oh wow.” DJ’s wife followed her husband into the house and hurriedly scrambling around him, caught up with the others in front of the fireplace. “Grace is going to be really mad she wasn’t here for this.”

  One by one all the Farraday women gathered around the hearth, a few of their husbands hovering nearby. After squealing with delight, Aunt Eileen scurried into the kitchen and back. “I knew I’d get to use these someday.” She handed everybody a yard-long narrow utensil reminiscent of a fondue fork.

  Slipping his phone into his pocket, Connor was the last to enter the house. Taking a moment to scan the room, he zeroed in on Hannah. “I have a feeling things are about to really start hopping.” Leaning over to help his daughter Stacey hold the marshmallow skewer higher in the fireplace, he looked to his cousin. “Apparently Mrs. Hampton likes to talk. I don’t know what you said to her yesterday, but without her son having a single class with you, she is already spreading the word that you come highly recommended by Mrs. Stewart and should be an excellent replacement for the equine instructor who moved to California.”

  Hannah picked at some crumbs on her lap. She looked adorable casually nibbling on the dropped graham crackers. Any minute now Dale expected her to give in and make herself another S’more.

  “That’s a good thing,” she muttered, sucking the crumbs off her finger. “Why do you look like there’s too much starch in your shorts?”

  “Because one of the women who also used that instructor wants you to work with her daughter.”

  “Another good thing. More paying customers. Or does this person need subsidizing as well?”

  A fresh s’more in his hand, Connor shook his head and took a quick bite before answering. “Paying customer.”

  “My favorite kind.” She beamed.

  “Only this paying customer wants to start tomorrow.”

  Hannah’s exuberance for the moment fell away. “Tomorrow?”

  “She’s visiting her parents in Abilene for a few weeks and wants to take advantage of the closer proximity.”

  “You know,” Catherine leaned forward on her knees, “equipment-wise, we’re ready to go. There’s no real reason not to take on both of these clients starting tomorrow.”

  Hannah looked to her cousin.

  “It’s up to you.” Connor shrugged.

  “This girl has cognitive issues and her mother fears she’s regressing without the interaction with horses,” Catherine said.

  Dale could almost see the gears moving in Hannah’s head. She was going to make this happen. And to his own surprise, he was more than pleased he’d be a part of it.

  ****

  Trying to get Dale away from the others long enough to get the rest of the story out of him had proved harder than DJ had expected. Originally he had planned to leave the church picnic ahead of the others in order to be first at home. When Sister and Sissy cornered him outside their boutique to carry on about how much fun they had at the wedding and how they could hardly wait for the next celebration, he knew he was in trouble. Then when they proceeded to prattle on for ten more minutes wanting to gab about not one, but two dogs playing matchmaker in Tuckers Bluff, he knew any chance of getting home before the rest of the family was shot to hell.

  When Brooks insisted on taking Dale upstairs for a quick checkup, DJ saw his chance and ran with it. Slipping away while everybody else kept busy fixing after dinner drinks and setting up board games or chat sessions, he quietly followed his brother and friend upstairs.

  “I was wondering how long it was going to take you to corner me.” Dale sat down on the bed, ignoring the bewildered look on Brooks’ face.

  “Longer than I’d planned.” DJ turned to his brother. “I hate to do this, but why don’t you go wash your hands in the bathroom or something.”

  Brooks looked at his watch. “I’ll give you fifteen minutes.”

  The moment the door closed, DJ turned to his friend. “You said the DA was trying to build a case.”

  “That’s right.” Dale took a seat on the bed.

  “How are you communicating?”

  “I have a burner cell I picked up in Tyler on my way out of town. I check in with her every few days.”

  “Tyler? That’s a couple of hours east of Dallas. Talk about a detour to West Texas.”

  Nodding, Dale smiled. “If for any reason somebody picks up that I’m alive and have left Dallas, I made sure they believe I’m heading east.”

  “I should’ve known.” DJ muttered. Dale had a mind as sharp as a tack and could think three steps ahead of the bad guy. “Why don’t we start at the beginning?”

  “We only have fifteen minutes.” He turned his wrist. “Probably fourteen by now.”

  “Let’s not waste any of it.” DJ leaned against the dresser, crossed his arms and waited.

  “I still don’t think this is a good idea. The less you know…”

  “We’re not taking that route again, are we? Just tell me the truth please, and make it quick.”

  “All right, you win. But I want it on the record that this is under protest.”

  DJ nodded.

  “The whole thing started a few months back, maybe longer, right after I broke up with Grace’s roommate. Stopped at a restaurant near the University for a drink, sat at the bar. I had a beer, maybe two, when a woman screamed and a ruckus formed around the table behind me. You know how it is, instinct kicks in and before you know it you’re right in the thick of things. Turned out to be fairly simple. Some moron screamed a man was having a heart attack. Another person yelled for CPR. But it was obvious the way the victim couldn’t speak that he was choking on something. Took a quick glance at his plate as I positioned myself behind him and saw he’d ordered pork chops for dinner.”

  “Choked on the bone.” DJ hadn’t meant it as a question.

  “Yep. Serves the guy right for not using a knife and fork. Anyhow, after I dislodged the thing from his throat, this character turns around and shakes my hand so vigorously he almost dislocated my shoulder. Something about him looked incredibly familiar, but with the beers and the adrenaline rush and all the people around, I didn’t put my finger on it right away. He insisted I join them, ordered me another drink and asked if I’d had dinner. I hadn’t, so the next thing I knew I had the biggest damn steak in front of me that I’d ever seen in my entire life.”

  “Times going by fast. Can we cut to the chase, please?”

  “As soon as I sat down, I recognized the face. Joe Bettina.”


  DJ was pretty sure his eyes had popped out of his head. “The Joe Bettina?”

  “The one and only. I had a knock on my door at 6 o’clock the next morning. By 7 o’clock, as far as Bettina and his mob were concerned, my name was Dale Henderson, salesman extraordinaire.”

  “You went undercover with the Famiglia Crime Organization?” DJ almost couldn’t spit the words out. This was some serious crap.

  “Not really. Just being chummy. Casual. Eventually I’m sure it would have gone deeper, but so far I’d simply made myself available for the occasional card game or late night drink. One day we played golf. I’m not about to tell you who made up the foursome.”

  This time DJ agreed. He didn’t want to know. “Keep going.”

  “The turning point came when I got invited to Joseph’s daughter’s birthday celebration. At his house. On my way to the bathroom, I turned left somewhere instead of right. Found myself to one side of a slightly open door and eavesdropping with a limited view of Joe standing with his back to me and another guy across from him. In case they weren’t discussing the weather, I pulled out my phone and turned on the video, but by the time I’d shifted angles for a better view, it was too late. Joe had put a bullet in the back of someone’s head. He whipped around to the guy across from him, waving the gun and shouted, that’s the way you do it, then he spun around to his other side and growled, are you happy now? It’s done. Just the way you wanted. Whoever gave the order responded in a language that wasn’t Spanish before tossing Joe a coin. I caught one word, Dobro.”

  “Russian?” The hair on the back of DJ’s neck bristled. Dealing with the mob was never a good thing, but some had no mercy, no honor code among thieves, and the Russians were one of them.

  Dale waved his arms and shrugged. “Maybe. Could be any of the Slavic countries where Dobro means good.”

  “Well at least we can be sure he wasn’t referring to a guitar.” DJ blew out a sigh. “What did the guy look like? Were you able to make him?”

  “No.” Dale shook his head, his fingertips running across his left temple. “I didn’t see a damn thing. I barely heard the voice, it was low and rough and hard to hear. The recorder got it, though. DA has it.”

  “Would you recognize it if you heard it again?”

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  Even DJ felt a headache coming on. “So you’re the reason Joe Bettina is in jail?”

  Dale nodded.

  “And let me guess, there’s a leak in the department and your cover was blown.”

  Tapping the tip of his nose with his finger, Dale nodded. “That’s when I found myself coming around the curve on an empty street with no brakes and a dark sedan riding my ass. Next thing I know I’m waking up in ICU with enough wires and tubes sticking out of me for a high school science experiment.”

  DJ needed air. He stood and walked across the room. The bedroom door inched open. Brooks popped his head in, took one look at DJ and Dale, and whispered “Ten more minutes” then closed the door behind him.

  “You see my dilemma,” Dale sighed. “I could’ve stayed at a safe house in Dallas, but my gut said hell no. With only two people knowing I’m alive and zero people knowing where I am—”

  “One person,” DJ smiled.

  Dale scoffed but smiled. “Okay one. On my own I like my survival odds a whole lot better.”

  “Agreed.” There were only a handful of people in this world outside his family DJ would trust with his life. Dale was one of them. Hand rubbing the back of his neck, DJ doubled back toward the bed. “All we have to do is get you on the stand in one piece. But without the kingpin, you’ll never have a day’s rest. WITSEC?”

  “That’s pretty much it in a nutshell.”

  “Does the DA have any new leads on who this person is?”

  “Oh come on. Long before either of us had been on the force, these guys have had their fingers in everything from counterfeit money to identity theft, prostitution, gun smuggling, and whatever else rolls in the big bucks. Still, not once has anyone been able to find a clue or turn a perp to uncover who the top man is. We get as high as Joe Bettina and then all the leads run dry.”

  Shaking his head, DJ sat down again. Now he really had something to think about. Dale may have been right. Bringing him here might be the worst thing DJ could’ve done for the Farradays.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Even though Hannah wasn’t working the ranch today, she and Dale rose with the rest of the family for an early breakfast.

  The equipment had been left out in the arena from yesterday. She would take her new student through the paces and see where they were at.

  “Where do we start?” Dale asked.

  Hannah came to a stop in front of Patience’s stall. “Even though you and Maggie got along like a house on fire yesterday, I’d rather not take any chances with a new student around. I read the paperwork the mother filled out for us and the history she submitted from the previous equine center, but I don’t know what I’ll be dealing with until I work with her. Since we don’t have a mechanical horse to do an initial assessment with, it has to be on a real animal and I don’t need to be worrying about the horse too.”

  “Makes sense. So now what?”

  “We’re going to get Patience saddled and ready for when Melody gets here. Just like we started to do with Maggie yesterday.” Once again, with Dale at her side, she gathered up what was needed to prep the horse. “When we’re done, I’ll leave you with the mare while I go greet Melody and her mother.”

  “You alone. Got it.”

  “Thank you. Once we’re ready, you can walk Patience over to the mounting blocks. Depending on her size and skill we’ll determine how she mounts. At least we know she’s not in a wheelchair and won’t need the ramp.”

  Dale nodded. “And after that?”

  “You stay nearby. You’ll walk alongside Melody and the horse. If necessary you will hold the lead, but from what I understand so far, she’s able to do this on her own. At some point I need you to step in to assist Melody or to take the lead for something new. Either way, I’ll let you know what’s going on.”

  “Sounds simple enough.”

  “It should be. We’re not training for the Olympics here or gunning for a barrel racing championship. This is all about mastering the horse, building a feeling of success in kids who rarely feel they can succeed at anything in a normal world. We’ll move slow and easy.” She didn’t feel she needed to explain anything more. The concept really was quite simple. Though she’d never gotten a straight answer these last two days of what he’d done recently for a living, it was obvious he was very bright and adaptable.

  Wearing her own helmet, Melody walked in beside her mother. The girl’s face broke into a smile as soon as she caught a glimpse of the horses in the stalls to the side.

  Gesturing for Dale to go get Patience, Hannah extended her hand to Melody’s mother. “I’m Hannah Farraday, nice to meet you.” She turned to face Melody. “Thank you for coming to visit us.”

  “I like horses. Miss Jennifer moved away.” Melody stood at about five foot four and looked like any other girl in her early teens. Her face scrunched in a frown. “I don’t like Mr. John. He has a mean voice.”

  Hannah glanced over the girl’s shoulder to the mother, looking for some affirmation. Melody’s mother merely shrugged. Hannah could only take that to mean Mr. John wasn’t a good fit for a teenage girl. “I hope I don’t sound mean.”

  Melody shook her head vehemently. “You have a pretty voice, like Miss Jennifer.”

  “Thank you.” The sound of hooves clomping on the concrete floor drew everyone’s attention to Dale and Patience. “I’m going to introduce you to Patience. She’s a sweet girl too. And she likes girls your age.”

  Grinning, Melody approached the horse with ease from the front side. She removed a treat from her pocket and held her hand out stiff for the horse to nibble. Then taking another moment to rub the side of the horse’s neck, she turned to face Ha
nnah and proudly announced, “I like her too.”

  Without a word of instruction Melody turned away and walked to her place on the mounting blocks, patiently waiting for Dale to bring the horse beside it.

  “We,” Melody’s mother started, “had been training for the horse show in Houston the end of next month. We’re hoping we’ll still be able to do that out of this stable.”

  Hannah hadn’t considered getting involved in any of the events or competitions that some local cities held for horsemanship so soon. But the way Melody gleefully nodded at her as her mother spoke, Hannah didn’t have the heart to say anything but, “I’m sure we can work something out.”

  It seems flying by the seat of Hannah’s pants was becoming a regular thing for her.

  ****

  Dale stood near Patience and Melody as Hannah walked them through the paces. So far he hadn’t been needed to do anything, but watching Hannah work had been fascinating. Her youthful appearance completely belied the training and expertise she exhibited working with this sweet young teen. Hannah’s gaze held a seriousness, a glimmer of understanding that told of a person who had seen a harsher side of life and was willing to do something about it. Sort of a kindred spirit. He and she both wanted to make a difference. He may have been too distracted to notice before, but Hannah Farraday was definitely all woman.

  “That’s it, now turn in the box.”

  The horse began to slowly step backwards.

  “Where are your hands?” Hannah asked softly.

  Melody lifted her hands to show Hannah and the horse took another step back.

  “Yes.” Even though Hannah smiled at the young girl, Dale got the feeling that was not the response she had wanted. “What do you do with your hands to stop the horse?”

  Melody pulled on the reins.

  “That’s right, and what do you do to the reins if you want her to move forward?”

  Without hesitation, Melody loosened her hold on the reins.