Читать книгу Nothing But Trouble - BEVERLY BARTON, Beverly Barton - Страница 7

Tallie could tell by the look on his face that he was spitting mad. There was a ruddy hue to his tanned skin, a cold fire in his deep blue eyes and a coiled tension in the way he moved. His salon-styled ash blond hair appeared slightly mussed, as if the wind had dared to tousle it. Glancing at Deputy Wanda Simple, Tallie smiled, straightened her shoulders and prepared herself to endure his wrath. Although Peyton Rand was usually a calm, controlled, easygoing man, Tallie knew she possessed the power to dent his Southern-gentleman facade.

He slammed his leather briefcase down onto the table. Leaning over slightly, he splayed his big hands on each side of the briefcase, then glared at Tallie.

“You’ve done some stupid things before, Tallulah Bankhead Bishop, but this has to be the—”

Oh, he was really angry. He’d called her Tallulah! “I warned him to stop, Peyton. I promise I did.” Tallie took several steps forward, her hands cuffed behind her back. “He was beating Richie. Kicking him around. I couldn’t just stand there and let him hurt that child, now, could I?”

Straightening to his full six-foot-two height, Peyton bent his arms at the elbows and threw open his hands, knotting his palms into half-closed fists. “Okay, so you had to do something to stop him, but did you have to shoot Nolan with birdshot?”

“What was I supposed to do?” Tallie inched her way toward Peyton, one cautious step at a time, looking up at him with what she hoped was a remorseful expression on her face.

“You had Solomon with you, didn’t you?” Peyton reached out and grabbed Tallie by the shoulders, giving her a gentle shake. A shiver of awareness zipped through his body, reminding him of why he shouldn’t touch Tallie. Regardless of his unwanted attraction to the woman, the fact remained that she was bad news. “Why didn’t you let Solomon handle Cliff Nolan?”

“Hell’s toenails, Peyt, if I’d let Solomon attack Cliff, I’d be in here on murder charges instead of assault.”

“You’re going to be able to get her off, aren’t you, Mr. Rand?” Wanda Simple asked. “This whole town knows Cliff Nolan is a no-good skunk, always manhandling Loretta and those kids. Tallie just did what she thought was right.”

“Well, I hope the judge will see it that way.” Releasing his hold on her, Peyton shook his head. Why, dear God, why had he been cursed with the responsibility of Tallie Bishop? If ever there were two people on earth who were a mismatched set, it was Tallie and him. “I came straight from Jackson, so I haven’t had a chance to talk to Clayburn about your bail. But I have talked to Lowell, and you can thank him that the charges aren’t assault with intent.”

“I’ve already thanked him.” Tallie realized that nothing she said or did would soften Peyton’s attitude, and she couldn’t much blame him. Ever since her brothers had left Crooked Oak to find their own way in the world, Peyton had acted as their substitute, trying to look out for his friends’ kid sister—a kid sister who, at twenty-six, should have known better than to shoot a man.

“I’ll see if Clayburn won’t go ahead and set bail so I can get you out of here today.” Peyton glanced at Tallie’s arms, arched behind her back to accommodate the handcuffs. “Wanda, take this little heathen to her cell until I can make arrangements with Judge Proctor.” Pointing his index finger at Tallie, he said, “It would serve you right if I left you in here all night.”

Thrusting out her chin, Tallie gave him a haughty stare. “You do whatever you want to do, Peyton Rand. I splattered Cliff Nolan with birdshot to keep him from doing any more harm to his child and the child’s dog. I hate that I had to shoot him, and maybe what I did was wrong, but if you can’t see past the law into the human heart, then I doubt—”

“Dammit, woman, will you shut up!”

With a startled jerk, Tallie tensed, then swallowed hard and glanced up into Peyton’s stern face. “You tell Judge Proctor that if I could have thought of another way to handle the situation, I wouldn’t have filled Cliff with birdshot, but...at the time, I saw no other alternative.”

“I’ll tell him, and maybe he’ll agree to set bail.”

“Do you have any idea how much bail will be?” Tallie didn’t have a lot of cash money, but her garage and tow-trucking business was quite successful, so she didn’t think there’d be a problem with posting her own bail.

“I’ll handle the bail,” Peyton said. “I can trust you not to leave the country, can’t I?” A hint of a smile twitched at the corners of his mouth.

And Lord, how Tallie loved his mouth. She’d spent endless hours wondering just what it would feel like to kiss that mouth.

Taking a deep breath, Tallie didn’t even try to disguise the sense of relief she felt knowing that Peyton’s anger had begun to subside. She grinned at him. “I won’t even leave the state.”

“That’s good to know.” Retrieving his briefcase, Peyton headed for the door, all the while chiding himself for being a total fool. No matter how many times her behavior created problems for him, he could never stay angry with Tallie. Despite her fierce independence and feminist bravado, she was a tenderhearted, vulnerable woman—somewhere beneath all that grease, the boyish haircut and her aggravating take-charge attitude.

“Oh, Peyt, would you please go by the Humane Shelter and pick up Solomon?” Tallie asked. “I had Wanda call Susan to come get him and keep him until we could straighten out this mess.”

“We’ll pick up Solomon after you’re released.” Peyton stopped just inside the doorway, turned around and surveyed Tallie from head to foot. “How the hell can such a little woman stir up so many stinks in this county and cause me nothing but trouble?”

Before Tallie could reply, Peyton left. She supposed she should be grateful that he’d even bothered to come when she’d called. After all, he really didn’t owe her anything. Just because Peyt’s father, old Senator Rand, had been a hunting and fishing pal of her grandfather’s and just because her brothers and Peyton had buddied around together—despite the differences in their social positions—didn’t mean he was responsible for getting her out of every mess she got herself into, did it? Of course not. But ever since Jake and Hank and Caleb had, one by one, left Crooked Oak for the big, wide world outside the boundaries of Tennessee, Peyton had become her guardian angel, always just a phone call away. Of course, he fussed and fumed and swore she’d be the death of him. And whenever she called him for help, he warned her, “This is the last time, so help me, Tallie.”

“Come on, Tallie, let’s get you into a cell until Mr. Rand comes back for you.” Wanda Simple, a tall, skinny, bespectacled woman in her early thirties had graduated from high school with Jake, and she and Tallie had been on friendly terms for years.

“Do you think Clayburn Proctor will go ahead and set bail so I can get out of here today?” Tallie asked.

“Ah, shoot, Tallie, you know Judge Proctor thinks the world of you. Why, ever since you saved his grandson’s life when you got to the scene of the wreck before the ambulance and performed CPR on that child, Judge Proctor’s thought you hung the moon.” Placing her hand on the small of Tallie’s back, Wanda led her down the hall toward the short row of jail cells. “Besides, Peyton Rand could charm the birds down from the trees, couldn’t he?”

Tallie stood perfectly still, while Wanda uncuffed her. “Yeah, you’re right. Peyton’s got his daddy’s silver tongue. He’s a born politician.”

“I swear, girl, why haven’t you made a move on that man? It’s plain to see that you’re crazy about him, and everybody in the county knows he’s always acting like your knight in shining armor.”

“Peyt just feels responsible for me, that’s all.” Tallie walked into the cell. “My brothers made him promise to keep an eye on me.”

Wanda closed the cell door. “Well, for a man who doesn’t care, I’d say he keeps a pretty close eye.”

“He’s never thought of me as anything but a pest. Besides, I’m hardly the kind of woman a man like Peyton Rand would want, and I’m certainly not what he needs.” Stepping away from the bars and into the center of the small cell, Tallie spread out her arms and slowly turned around in a circle. “Just look at me. I’m a country girl. What I need is a man with calluses on his hands and dirt on his boots, not some rich lawyer who wants to be governor.”

“You look fine.” Wanda ran her gaze from the top of Tallie’s head to the tips of her feet. “Well, you could use a little dolling up, but that wouldn’t be too difficult with your face and figure. And even if you and Peyton Rand are totally different, that doesn’t mean you weren’t meant for each other. Opposites attract, you know?”

“Wanda, a man on the verge of running for governor isn’t about to get himself romantically involved with a woman who owns a tow-trucking company, has only a junior college education and is always getting into trouble because she can’t keep her nose out of everybody else’s business.”

“Well, if you don’t make a move soon, you’re liable to lose him for good,” Wanda said. “He’s been dating that Donna Fields for three months now. You know her granddaddy was governor and her uncle’s a federal judge.”

“Peyton and I are all wrong for each other, but he and Donna Fields are a different matter. She’d probably make him the perfect wife.” Tallie hated admitting that another woman was far more suitable for Peyt than she was, but the truth was the truth. Donna Fields was the best possible choice for a politician’s wife. Tallie Bishop would be a politician’s nightmare.

* * *

Peyton sat in the luxury of his dark blue Jaguar, his shoulders resting comfortably against the leather seat as he spoke on his cellular phone. With casual grace, he flicked the ashes off the end of his cigar into the tray.

“She’s never gotten herself into this much trouble before, Clayburn, but she honestly thought she was doing the right thing.”

“I know,” Clayburn Proctor said. “Tallie’s got a good heart, it’s just that she acts without thinking. I don’t have a problem with setting her bail now. No sense in that girl staying overnight in jail. But there’s no way we can get out of a trial. Of course, since Lowell’s only charging her with assault and battery, I can just put the case on my docket if she pleads guilty. No need to take this before a jury.” Clayburn laughed. “But my bet is if it did go to a jury, they’d acquit her. I know she broke the law, but by God, somebody’s needed to do something about Cliff Nolan for a long time. If only his wife would press charges against him.”

“Thanks, Clayburn. I appreciate this.” Peyton hadn’t had a doubt that the judge would bend over backward to help Tallie; as a matter of fact, there was hardly a soul in the whole county, especially around Crooked Oak, who wouldn’t go out of their way for Tallie Bishop. Just about everybody liked her. Despite her penchant for getting into trouble, Tallie’s main fault was that she was always trying to help others. He’d never known anyone so concerned about every living creature on earth. He supposed that was the main reason he’d never been able to sever the ties that bound him to Tallie, despite the many times he’d wished she’d get the hell out of his life.

“Well, who’s going to post bond for Tallie?” Clayburn asked.

“I am.” Peyton laughed. “She’s promised me that she won’t leave the country.”

“Well, since you’re the one posting bail, I’d say that a fair amount would be 1,678. Wouldn’t you say that would be fair?”

Hearing the slight chuckle in Clayburn Proctor’s voice, Peyton took a draw on his cigar, then blew out a ring of smoke. Damn the man! The judge had a warped sense of humor. Whoever heard of such an odd amount for bail?

“That’s a rather unusual sum, don’t you think?” Peyton asked.

“You know, for some reason that amount sticks in my mind. I seem to connect 1,678 with you, Peyton.”

“It couldn’t possibly be the exact amount you’ve lost to me in our friendly little poker games over the last few months, could it?

“Well, well, that must be the reason.”

“Clayburn, you’re not going to get that money out of me. Tallie won’t jump bail.”

“Not intentionally,” the judge said, chuckling loudly. “But knowing Tallie, she just might take that tow truck of hers into Mississippi without even thinking, and if she does, and if I have a mind to, I can rule that she’s jumped bail.”

Clayburn Proctor was a wily old fox who enjoyed his games. Peyton wouldn’t put anything past him. If anyone else had been posting Tallie’s bail, Clayburn would have named a different amount, but the judge couldn’t resist the chance to needle Peyton. “You wouldn’t do that to Tallie.”

“Probably not,” Clayburn admitted. “We’re both under that girl’s spell, aren’t we, Peyt? Like everybody else in these parts.”

“You may be under her spell, but I’m damn well not!” Peyton had never been under any woman’s spell and most definitely not Tallie Bishop’s. She was five-feet-two-inches of pure trouble. She’d been a pest as long as he’d known her, ever since she’d been a kid and traipsed around after him and her brothers when they went hunting and fishing. And, dammit all, when she’d turned sixteen and fancied herself in love with him, she’d nearly driven him crazy until he’d persuaded her that there could never be anything romantic between them.

“Don’t protest so much,” Clayburn said. “Folks will assume you’ve got something to hide.”

“Thanks again for setting bail, odd amount or not,” Peyton said, deliberately changing the subject. He was not interested in Tallie Bishop, most definitely not in the way Clayburn Proctor was suggesting. They were barely friends. He tried to look out for her as a favor to her brothers and because somebody had to do it. There was nothing more to their relationship than that—absolutely nothing.

* * *

Standing in the doorway, Peyton watched Tallie while she made the rounds up and down the pens in the animal shelter. When she and Susan Williams, the shelter manager, stopped by the pen that housed Solomon, the huge dog reared up against the wire gate, his head towering over the two women.

The moment Susan opened the gate, Solomon jumped down and loped out toward Tallie. Squatting beside the Great Dane, Tallie gave him a hug, then ran her hand down his back in a loving pet.

“Did you think you were doomed to life in this prison?” Tallie’s voice held the same soft, even quality a mother uses when reassuring a child. “Well, Peyt and I have come to take you home, but you’ll have to be on your best behavior because you’ll be riding in Peyt’s Jaguar.”

Good God! He hadn’t thought about that when he’d offered to drive Tallie and Solomon home. That dog was the size of a pony. Peyton felt like kicking himself. Why hadn’t he let her call on someone else for taxi service? Why did he think it was his responsibility to make sure she got home safe and sound?

“Where’s your truck?” Susan asked as they walked into the outer office area where a volunteer manned the reception desk.

“Mike picked it up at the Nolans’ and took it back to the garage.” When Tallie stopped, Solomon came to heel without a word from his mistress. “We didn’t know whether or not I’d be spending the night in jail.” Smiling, she cut her eyes in Peyton’s direction. “Lowell let me bring Solomon along in the police car, and I certainly appreciate y’all taking care of him for me.”

“Good gracious, Tallie, taking care of Solomon is the least we could do for our number-one volunteer,” Susan said. “Mr. Rand, we’re certainly glad you were able to get Tallie out of jail so fast. I just can’t believe she’ll have to stand trial for protecting a child and his dog.”

“Well, Ms. Williams, Tallie did shoot a man.” Peyton knew it was useless to point out Tallie’s faults to any of her many admirers, and Susan Williams was no exception. “I expect once I present the evidence, Judge Proctor will go easy on her.”

“As well he should,” Susan said. “I just wish we could get Loretta to take those children and leave Cliff Nolan. If she doesn’t, he’ll wind up killing one of them sooner or later.”

“Tallie, we really should be going.” Peyton nodded toward the front door. “I’ve taken off all afternoon, but I need to get back to Jackson. I have a dinner engagement in Marshallton this evening.”

“Sure thing.” Tallie, her dog at her side, gave Susan a quick hug. “Thanks again. Come on, Solomon.”

Just as Peyton opened the door and stepped outside, the telephone rang. When the volunteer informed Susan that the call was for her, Tallie followed Peyton outside. But before they made it to the car, Susan stuck her head out the door and called to Tallie.

“Wait up,” Susan said. “Tallie, I need to talk to you for just a minute. It’s important, or I wouldn’t hold you up like this.”

Tallie gave Peyton a questioning look. “Do you mind terribly? I promise I’ll hurry.”

“Two minutes.” Peyton tapped the face of his Rolex.

“Stay, Solomon,” Tallie ordered, then rushed to the entrance of the animal shelter where Susan stood waiting.

Peyton leaned against the side of his car, his tense body striving for relaxation. Reaching inside his coat pocket, he removed his sunglasses and put them on, then crossed his arms over his chest.

He didn’t have time for this delay, whatever the cause. He’d had his secretary clear his calendar for the afternoon because he hadn’t had any idea how long this latest “Tallie rescue” would take. But he and Donna had plans to dine with Marshallton’s mayor tonight. Peyton wanted to get his old friend’s thoughts on the possibility of running for governor in the next election.

Peyton glanced over at Tallie. The late-afternoon sun caught in her raven hair, giving it a blue-black luster. She kept her dark curly hair cropped short, in an almost boyish style, but there was nothing boyish about that baby-doll face, those long, thick eyelashes, that full pink mouth. Damn, why couldn’t she have stayed skinny and flat-chested, the way she’d been at sixteen when she’d professed her undying love and he’d gently rejected her? Somewhere between the age of sixteen, when Caleb, the youngest of the Bishop boys, had left for college on a baseball scholarship and had asked Peyton to look out for his little sister, and the age of eighteen, Tallie Bishop had blossomed. Actually, she’d over-blossomed. Her body had filled out in all the right places, creating an hourglass-shaped body on a petite frame.

Peyton noticed the way her frayed blue jeans clung to her hips and legs. She wore a grease-stained short-sleeved chambray shirt, tucked beneath the waistband in the back and hanging loose in the front. Underneath the unbuttoned shirt, her full breasts strained against a faded yellow T-shirt. On a less well endowed woman, the clothes would have looked masculine. On Tallie, they looked damned sexy. And that was the problem. For the past eight years, men had been ogling Tallie, despite her tomboyish ways. She’d had her pick of most young bucks in the county, dating every good-looking Tom, Dick and Harry. On more than one occasion, she’d coldcocked some overzealous suitor. Trouble sought Tallie the way a moth seeks a flame.

And it wasn’t just the men who couldn’t take no for an answer that caused problems, it was Tallie’s constant interference in other people’s lives. He had to admit that she was a good citizen, working in her spare time as a volunteer fire fighter for Crooked Oak as well as a helper at the Humane Shelter. But more often than not, Tallie let her concern overshadow her better judgment. Case in point—filling Cliff Nolan full of birdshot. But there was always something. Her love for animals had gotten her into trouble with Lobo Smothers, an illiterate farmer suspected of illegal hunting and trapping. Tallie had been doing everything in her power to help the authorities catch him and put him in jail. Needless to say, she and Lobo weren’t the best of friends. And there were her endless efforts to get abused women to leave their husbands and start new lives. Cliff Nolan wasn’t the only husband in Crooked Oak who had a bone to pick with Tallie.

What the hell was Peyton going to do about her if he did decide to run for governor? There was no way the woman would ever change, and having his name linked with hers in connection to one of her wild exploits was bound to damage his image.

His image? His old man had always cared about the Rand family’s image, and it had been one of the things he’d despised about his father. If he did decide to enter politics, would he become more and more like Senator Marshall Rand? His father had died a lonely and unhappy man. Peyton didn’t want to follow in his footsteps.

“Ready?” Tallie asked.

Peyton stared at her, unaware until she’d spoken that she had approached the car. “All finished with Susan?”

“Ah...yeah...just some shelter business.” Tallie opened the passenger door, ordered Solomon inside and slipped into the seat.

Peyton didn’t like the way she’d answered him. She was hiding something. Tallie was so damned honest, the truth showed on her face whenever she tried to lie. Pink spots stained her cheeks. Getting into the Jag, he started the engine. “What sort of business?”

“Huh?”

“What’s up, Tallie?” Peyton backed out of the parking area. “If this is something that’s going to cause me any more problems, then let me hear it now.”

“What makes you think this has anything to do with you?” Sticking out her chin, Tallie crossed her arms under her bosom.

“If it’s not something that could get you into trouble, then why won’t you tell me?” Turning the car onto the highway, Peyton glanced over at Tallie and wished he hadn’t. Her slender, crisscrossed arms had boosted her full breasts up and out, reminding him of how truly female she was.

“An anonymous caller told Susan that he had information about where Lobo Smothers had set up some traps, out toward Kingsley Hill.”

Peyton groaned, then glanced over at Tallie. “Stay out of it. Give the information to Lowell and let him handle it.”

“I could do that, but it won’t do any good. Lobo Smothers always seems to be one step ahead of the law.”

“Lowell Redman is just newly elected. Give him a chance.”

“The last time I shared information with the sheriff’s department, they arrived at the scene to find no traps, and no Lobo. I told you then that Lowell’s got a rat working for him. I just haven’t figured out who it is yet, but I will.”

“Tallie, stay away from Lobo Smothers.” Peyton issued the command in a tight, controlled voice. “The man is dangerous.”

“All the more reason that he should be behind bars! Besides, rumor has it that Lobo is growing marijuana out there in the woods somewhere. If his abuse of animals won’t stir the law into action, maybe his being in the drug racket will.”

“Whatever Lobo Smothers is doing, let the law handle it! Dammit, woman, you’re in enough trouble. In another week or two, you’ll be going to trial for shooting a man full of birdshot. You do realize that if Lowell Redman wasn’t a friend and if Clayburn Proctor didn’t think you were a saint for saving his grandson’s life, you could do some serious jail time for what you did.”

“I was defending a poor, helpless child and a pitiful little dog from a monstrous brute.” Solomon growled as if agreeing with his mistress.

“Tallie, I’ve been getting you out of trouble for years now, and I’m sick and tired of it. I’ve tried to talk reason to you, but you refuse to listen.”

“There’s no need for you to waste any more of your valuable time, Peyton,” Tallie said, refusing to look in his direction. “Just drop Solomon and me off at the garage.”

“Fine. I’m probably running late, as it is.”

“Well, that’s just awful, isn’t it? You sure wouldn’t want to keep Donna Fields waiting.”

“No, I wouldn’t want to keep Donna waiting. Ladies like Donna are accustomed to a certain kind of behavior from the men they date...like being punctual for dinner.”

“Ladies like Donna?” Tallie turned in her seat, stretching the safety belt to its limit when she leaned toward Peyton. “A lady whose grandfather was governor and whose uncle is a federal judge? A lady professor with blue blood in her veins? My, my, a lady like that could do a lot for a man with political aspirations. Just think what a wife she’d make for someone with his eye on the state capitol.”

Peyton glanced at Tallie and then back at the road. He knew she was trying to goad him into a fight. She was implying that his only interest in Donna was her suitability, and he didn’t like to think he’d become so much like his father, he would consider marrying a woman just because she and her family could help him politically.

“Donna is a very special lady. I’ll have to introduce you to her sometime.” Peyton turned off the highway into the parking area for the garage and tow-truck company Tallie owned and operated with Mike Hanley and his sister, Sheila Vance.

“Spare me.” The moment Peyton killed the engine, Tallie opened the door. “I doubt Donna Fields and I have anything in common. Someone with blood as blue as hers would probably be offended by a little ol’ redneck like me.”

Peyton laughed at the thought of introducing Donna and Tallie. The funny thing was, he had the oddest notion that once they met, the two women would actually like each other. “Don’t count Donna short just because of who she is. She’s not a snob.”

Tallie got out of the Jag, then ordered Solomon to join her. “Well, you and Donna have a pleasant dinner tonight, and don’t you worry about me. There’s not one reason for you to bother with me again until my trial.”

“I hope you’re right,” Peyton said. “I’ll call you when Clayburn lets me know about the trial date.”

“Fine.” Leaving the door open, Tallie walked away, then stopped and turned around. “Thanks, Peyt. I...well, just thanks.”

“Tallie?”

“Huh?” She walked back over to the Jag. “Let Lowell Redman handle Lobo Smothers.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I mean it. You stay out of trouble.”

“I’ll try.” She slammed the door.

Waiting until Tallie and Solomon disappeared inside the garage, Peyton pulled the Jag out onto the highway and headed toward Jackson. Something told him that he’d be seeing Tallie again before the trial. If she stayed out of trouble for two weeks, it would be a minor miracle.