Hart & Stocker

by Max Ellendale

  "What do we do?" asked Dax, still focused on Carol.

  "We'll remove them and she'll be just fine," I said, caressing the soft nose of the pretty animal.

  "Alright," she said, looking from the horse then back to me.

  I'd never met anyone as quiet as Dax, especially not around here where everyone knew everyone else. It unnerved me some.

  "We can talk more about it and I'll give you an estimate. Okay?"

  She nodded, giving the horse one last pat before gesturing toward the entrance. I preceded her and she led me back toward the barn.

  We walked in silence for some time, though nothing about Dax's demeanor said quiet at all. The way she looked around, her eyes squinted against the sun, told me that she had a million thoughts in her head.

  "You know, I knew your father pretty well. How come I don't know you?" I asked, tucking my free hand into the back pocket of my jeans while the other toted my bag.

  "I moved to Seattle during high school. Just moved back here about seven months ago."

  "We thought they were going to sell this place…"

  "I changed my mind."

  "Did you?" I asked, my heart giving a great leap. "Why?"

  "It's nice here. Quiet. Not like the city." Both her hands made it to her pockets, her shoulders tensing. "I think I might stay."

  "Well, Sunny Sequim will be happy to have you," I said, setting my bag in the back of the truck when we approached it. "What'd you do in the city?"

  "You ask a lot of questions," she said, glancing at me again. Those sharp green eyes stabbed me so deeply that I was left feeling exposed.

  "You're very quiet." I leaned against the side of the truck, bracing my foot against the tire.

  In a single, subtle sweep, her gaze flickered down my front then met my gaze again. "I'm a U.S. Marshal."

  I started, my stomach squeezing with nerves at the disclosure. "Are you really?"

  "No. I made it up to make you nervous."

  I stared at her, for several uncomfortable seconds until her lip twitched. "You're joking…"

  "Yeah." Her frozen expression cracked into a small chuckle. "I'm a marshal." She pulled her badge out of her back pocket and flashed it at me before pocketing it again.

  "Shit." I gripped my shirt, laughing with unease. "No wonder you're scary."

  "You're scared of me?" The smirk that settled on her mouth had me staring at her lips longer than I should.

  "Slightly intimidated." I held up my hand while shaking my head. "But I'm going to help your horse anyway."

  "I would hope so…" She glanced back toward the paddock where Captain Marvel continued to graze.

  "I can email you the estimate—"

  "Can we just do it now?" Her question interrupted me and I stumbled for a second.

  "Um...sure. I can just call my office assistant…"

  "Okay." Dax glanced around us again before gesturing to the house several yards away. "Want some tea?"

  "Sure." I nodded, glancing over my shoulder as I began walking. "Do you always make people walk in front of you?"

  She shrugged. "I've got the gun. Easy to predict behavior."

  "Oh my God, you're scary." I lost my shit, spinning in a circle to face her while walking backward.

  Dax's laughter fully emerged at that point, though her sauntering pace never changed. With both of her hands in her back pockets, her shirt pulled tightly over her torso, and the impression of a toned core drew my attention. I gulped again, forcing myself to meet her gaze. Unlike before, it now had an air of playfulness to it.

  "You're an easy target, Hart."

  "You know, when I got a phone call from a deceased man asking me to tend to his horse, I had the fleeting thought that I was waltzing into the arms of a serial killer," I said, slowing my pace so that I wasn't as far ahead of her as before.

  "And now?"

  "I'm pretty sure I'm about to die."

  "You know, female serials are seemingly rare." She pulled open the screen door after we clunked our way up the three wooden steps leading to the landing. "But that's only because they're smart, calculated, and harder to catch."

  "I've misjudged you, Stocker." I hesitated before entering the house. "You're terrifying."

  She smirked and headed in before me. "Come on. I'll poison you some tea—I mean, pour."

  I groaned, but followed her anyway.

  Chapter Two

  "Dax Stocker's daughter tried to kill me last week," I told Sage as we sat together at the bar counter at Rooney's Saloon. Our favorite and only, dive bar in the area. I picked on a basket of fried pickles, while she busied herself with hushpuppies.

  "I heard she was back in town."

  "You know her?"

  "Yeah. She was in my grade in high school. Don't you remember?"

  "Not at all."

  "Only a year before you, Willa. Were you blind?" Sage laughed, taking a swig of beer.

  "Partially? I don't remember a Dax."

  "She was Dakota then." She smirked, shaking her head. "You were too busy fawning over Billy Evans back then."

  "I don't remember her and I definitely don't remember fawning over Billy."

  "Electively blind." She rolled her eyes. "Dakota moved away when she was about fifteen after her parents divorced. I think her mother high-tailed it off to Seattle and Mr. Stocker stayed for the farm."

  "Makes sense. Dax moved back from Seattle she said."

  "You're talking about her an awful lot." Sage narrowed her eyes, a hushpuppy pinched between her fingers. "Is she hot?"

  "Sage." I smacked her hand, and the fried morsel tumbled to her dish. "Don't even."

  "Will, we all know that every known thirty-something lesbian in this town is already paired off. You're the odd one out, as always. Fresh meat always looks tasty."

  "Harsh, Sage." I scowled, grabbing my beer and downing a gulp. "Harsh."

  "Just...don't get your heart broken by another curious straight girl. Okay?" She reached over and gave my hand a squeeze. "Have you tried that dating app?"

  "You mean the app where all the single gay girls live in Seattle? Yeah, I have. And I'm not desperate."

  "You're a little hard up. For more than just a chick."

  "What's that supposed to mean?" I swatted the counter and the bartender shot me a look. "Sorry."

  "Will." She set her drink down and gripped my forearm. "Friends, Will. You don't hang out with anyone."

  "Who am I supposed to hang out with? Marjorie and her perfectly pressed post-Memorial day mom jeans?" I grimaced. "I left my friends in Seattle when I took Dad's job out here after he died. I left everything to keep his business going. Two years goes by and people stop calling, texting. You know how it goes." Heat from anger rose to my face, but I managed to squash it fast. Sage and I got into it on a few other occasions about this and I didn't want to make a scene.

  "Unfortunately, yes."

  "From puppies and kittens, to horses and goats, Sage." I slouched in my chair. "Can you blame me? Not to mention half the people here are uncomfortable with my life choices. Bigoted bastards."

  "They still bring their pets to you, Will. And just because people are ignorant and uncomfortable, doesn't mean they hate. Some of them are just clueless."

  "Yeah, well, they can get their own clue. It's not my job to teach people to be open-minded."

  "No. No it's not," she conceded, sighing softly. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be so on you. I feel like Mom."

  "Mom's not so much on me as making excuses for me. Excuses that I don't need, mind you, but she feels I do," I said.

  "I know." She gave my hand a squeeze. "We love you, Will. Don't forget that, okay?"

  "I love you all, too." I downed my beer then knocked on the counter. "Rack 'em up here, Andy. Let's go."

  "Should I cut her off?" Andy slid another beer down the counter to me after popping the cap, his eyes on my sister.

  "Not yet. When she gets to three, then we worry."

  "Hardy har har."
/>   Andy joined us while the flow of alcohol tapered off. Patrons of the bar chatted under the tones of country music. Jake and a few of his friends played a game of pool in the far corner.

  "Best thing about Mom moving in with us is the built in babysitter," said Sage, tidying up her second beer.

  "She loves feeling needed. I mean, why else would she keep the rural doctor title? It doesn't turn off at night," I said.

  "Nope, but with her semi-retired and a new doctor in town, it spreads her less thin."

  "True."

  "Your mom's an icon in this town, ladies." Andy accepted the fresh bowls of popcorn that the waitress handed him and set them on the counter. "We'd be lost without her. Personally, I'd be dead."

  "You don't die from blue balls, Andy. Get with it." I snapped my fingers in his face and he laughed.

  "She thinks she's funny, your sister." He ignored me and focused on Sage.

  "I tell her all the time that she's lame."

  "Keep trying."

  "Jerks." I blew a raspberry at them and they laughed.

  The door to the bar opened and I glanced over while sipping my beer. Dax entered, sans hat, with sunglasses and her badge hanging around her neck. Like before, her weapon sat at her hip. She removed her glasses and tucked them into the collar of her T-shirt. This time, she wore a white shirt with blue jeans, and her level of official escalated tenfold.

  As did her level of sexy.

  She paid no one any mind as she made it over to the vacant end of the bar counter. Andy wasted no time shoving away from us. Before he even gave Dax a second look, he'd turned around and poured out a glass of Jack Daniel's over ice. I waited for soda to follow, but none did. Instead, he turned, flicked a napkin onto the counter, and set the drink in front of Dax.

  "Here you go, Chief."

  "Don't call me that," she said, before taking a deep draw on the liquid. She whipped the badge off her neck, and tucked it in her back pocket.

  A hard slap on my arm made me jump and I returned my attention to Sage. "What the hell?"

  "Don't stare."

  "I'm not," I muttered, returning my focus to the beer in front of me.

  The waitress returned and set down two pulled pork sandwiches in front of us. Sage didn't waste a second diving in, though I chose the fries first.

  I found it hard to keep my attention away from Dax, but she didn't seem to take issue with ignoring literally everyone. Equally, no one paid her any mind either.

  "C'mon," Sage said while chewing a bite of food. "Let's go watch the guys." She picked up her dish and drink, then nodded toward the gang around the pool table. "Sounds like some bets are happening."

  "I'm in."

  We perched ourselves at the high round tables against the wall. Jake and his rowdy bunch hooted when he rubbed the chalk at the end of the pool cue.

  "Fifty bucks or loser buys a round?" he asked, glancing to his burly cousin. Hugh had at least thirty pounds on Jake, most of which could be attributed to his wild beard. I hated that beard. It made his thirty-something appear fifty-something. And dirty.

  "Bring on the cash, bro."

  And off they went.

  I didn't always accompany Sage on her bar nights, but tonight I did. Partially because hiring a new doctor at the clinic freed up my time. The other part belonged to the restlessness I'd been feeling lately.

  Hugh and Jake, along with their work buddies, Drew and Pete, joked with each other during the entire game. Pete, in all his lumberjack glory, wandered over to Sage and me, leaning his elbow on the back of my chair.

  "Ladies," he said, snatching one of my fries.

  "Bigfoot." I nudged his arm off my chair. "Quit stealing my food."

  Sage laughed, her eyes wide with amusement while she crunched on a chip. "Don't feel too bad, Petey. She treats all the manly men that way."

  "Unamused," he said, standing up straighter. "Let me buy you a drink, Will."

  "I've got a drink, bubba. Move along." I jabbed my thumb to the side.

  Pete chuckled and our game of tease the crap out of each other ended. He pulled one of the other chairs over and sat beside me. "What's up, Will?"

  "Nothin', Petey. How are you?"

  "Good. You gonna finish that?" He pointed at the barely touched second half of my sandwich.

  "Nope." I handed it to him, sighing dramatically, and he grinned. "I never had a brother, but the group of you makes me grateful that I didn't."

  "Ah, well." He shrugged, clapping me on the shoulder. "All's well anyway." And there went the food in two bites.

  In the lull, I glanced over to Dax who remained seated at the bar counter, nursing her second drink as evidenced by the empty glass beside her while sipping off another.

  The pool game blended into the Friday night crew showing up around eight for a wild game of trivia. As wild as trivia can be. Sage and I entertained ourselves by playing a game of darts while talking about Macie's spring talent show at school.

  "She wants to be a veterinarian for her talent. You got a spare dog you could lend her for the show?" Sage laughed, tossing the dart and hitting almost dead center, ending the game. "Woo."

  "Nice. Nope, no spare dogs. But I might be able to wrestle up a goat." I set my beer down and nodded to the board. "Grab the darts? I gotta pee."

  "You betcha."

  I took my leave to weave through the crowded bar and wrestled my way between a handsy couple making out, passionately, in the alcove near the bathrooms. Some things never changed, even when we're old people in the same bars that we frequented as young adults.

  The lack of color and flare, however, made me miss my Seattle haunt. Wildrose wasn't special in a bar sense, but it surely was when it came to its patrons. Very sexy, very queer patrons. I pushed the bathroom door open and made my way to the only empty stall.

  While washing my hands, I examined myself in the mirror. Three years ago, I wouldn't have been wearing a flannel button down, still questionably coated with animal snot, with my hair a natural wavy mess. Three years ago, I would've rocked a pair of power heels, skinny jeans, and a low cut sweater that matched the perfect peaks of my eyeliner. Anyone who says the difference between thirty-two and thirty-four is small, is a damn liar.

  A toilet flushed behind me and out emerged Dax. She glanced at me in the mirror, her gaze meeting mine, though she said nothing at first, until the awkward was too much to handle.

  "What's up, Hart?" She turned on the faucet, holding her hands under the water while she looked at herself in the mirror. The haze of drunkenness dimmed the green of her eyes.

  "Hey, Dax," I said, turning off the faucet and drying my hands. "How’s Carol?"

  "Doing good." She animated suddenly, looking at me again. "I can tell she's more comfortable."

  "That's good. I'll be out on Monday to check on her. She might be ready for the bit by then."

  "It's no rush. She's happy. That's what matters."

  "Glad to hear it."

  "So...you're Sage's sister?" she asked, snatching some paper towels after washing up.

  "I am, indeed. You guys went to school together?"

  "Yeah. I didn't know her well or anything," she said, tossing the towels in the trash. "I remember you."

  "Me?" My stomach squeezed with nerves. "Why me?"

  "Because you had that miniature pig. What's your first name again?" Her brow furrowed, and she gripped the sink when her balance wavered for a second.

  "You remember the pig, but not my name?" I folded my arms over my middle. "Really?"

  "Fine. Pig Girl." She waved me off and made to walk past me.

  I laughed, and called after her, "Willa. It's Willa."

  She spun on her heel, her hand on the door handle. "Willa Hart," she said, nodding. "That's it."

  "That's me." I shrugged, gesturing to the door. "We staying in here or going?"

  "Going. Let me buy you a drink for fixing my horse."

  "Oh...okay, sure." Sage's warning bells sounded in my head. I ignored t
hem.

  Dax knocked on the bar, and Andy approached. "Yo, Chief."

  "Don't call me that." She held up two fingers and he chuckled before turning around.

  I straddled the bar stool, and Dax sat beside me, leaning her elbow on the counter. Andy dropped down glasses with ice and whiskey in front of us.

  "Enjoy," he said.

  "Thanks." I lifted the glass and took a small sip. Dax wasn't as gentle with hers.

  Trivia on one side of the bar turned into karaoke on the other. We both watched two horrible singers belt out a Dolly Parton song.

  Dax's brows crinkled as if she endured a great pain. "This place makes me reconsider moving back here."

  "Tell me about it."

  "Tell you about moving back here?" She scoffed, and the scowl darkened her eyes almost as much as the booze. "You're a townie."

  "First off, rude." I held a finger up to her. "Second, I'm not a townie. If you cared to ask, I came back here for the same reason you did."

  "I don't care to ask," she said, bringing her glass to her lips. From over the top of it, her seedy gaze stared me down. "What's the reason?"

  "Make up your mind." I laughed at her, but she was ill-amused. "My dad died and I moved back here to take over his veterinary clinic."

  "Where were you?"

  "Seattle."

  Dax set her glass down, seeming to struggle with swallowing her last sip. "Where at?"

  "Off Aurora. I worked at the vet clinic there. Where were you?"

  "Eastlake," she said, her posture relaxing with the conversation.

  "Do you miss it?" I asked, gesturing around us. "Trading that for this?"

  "The convenience of it." She shrugged. "I'm content on the farm."

  Our conversation lulled as it seemed to with Dax. She faded away easily, as if lost in thought, though tonight, I wondered if she was lost in whiskey.

  "Hey, Dax," a male voice called out from behind us. Drew approached, his smile slanted the way it does whenever he's drunk. Unlike the rest of his crew, his clean-shaven, put-together look always had him appearing more business class than rural class.

  Dax glanced at him, but said nothing, her attention returning to me. I noticed she released the hold she had on her glass, and her feet no longer dangled from the seat. Instead, her hands balled to fists and her feet braced against the bar on the stool.