Читать книгу The Judge - Jan Hudson - Страница 11

Her resolve didn’t last long. Carrie ran into Frank as she was coming out of the assessor’s office at a quarter to twelve, and darned if her heart didn’t skip a beat.

“Hello,” he said, closing his door behind him. “Going to lunch?”

“Yes, at the tearoom.” She wasn’t going to eat at cholesterol city across the square just to avoid Frank Outlaw.

He smiled. “Me, too. Want a ride?”

“Uh, no. I need to do some work in my room afterward. I’ll take my car,” she said.

“Mind if I hitch a ride with you? I’ll get Dad to drop me back here.”

“No problem. You joining your father today?” she asked.

“He and J.J. and I usually eat together on Thursdays. That’s chocolate cake day. We’re all suckers for Mary Beth’s chocolate cake.”

“I’m a sucker for anything chocolate.”

“I’ll have to remember that.”

He grinned. Why did he have to grin? He looked so darned sexy when he grinned. And why did he have to put his hand to her back when they walked to her car? Didn’t he know that it made funny prickles zip up and down her spine like a Japanese express train? Her resolve to cool her feelings for Frank was dissolving fast.

Since the first time she’d seen him, he’d had a singular effect on her, and it seemed to have grown instead of diminished. What was it about this particular man that shot her defenses? He had two arms, two legs and all the rest of the body parts typical of the male gender—and she’d never melted like ice cream in a skillet over other guys. At least not since she’d been sixteen and ape over Jon Bon Jovi.

As they drove away from the courthouse Frank ran his hand over the leather seat, and his fingertips brushed her leg. The touch hit her like a jolt of electricity. Did he do that on purpose? She glanced at him, but his hands were clamped together, and he was engrossed in studying the dash.

He looked up and said, “Nice car.”

“Thanks. I like it.”

“You must be a very good genealogist.”

She smiled. “I am. I’m good at all kinds of research that I do, but the car was a thirtieth birthday gift from my mother and her husband.” She didn’t add that her mother had told her latest catch that it was her daughter’s twenty-first birthday. Hence the special gift. After her face-lift, Amanda had shaved nine years off her age, so she’d shaved nine years off Carrie’s age as well. One thing she’d have to say for her mother, she’d made out like a bandit in her last couple of trips down the aisle. Amanda had plenty stashed away for her golden years.

“Her husband? Not your father?” Frank asked.

“No. My father died in an accident when I was only two. Amanda, my mother, has been married several times. I believe the latest one is a retired investor. He’s French. Jacques something-or-the-other. We’ve never met.”

“I take it that you and your mother aren’t close,” he said quietly.

She glanced over and saw sincere compassion in his eyes, and tears suddenly sprang into her own. Damn. She never cried. And certainly not over Amanda. Long ago she’d learned that the only thing crying accomplished was to make her face blotchy. That was another thing about Frank. He seemed to be able to fly under the radar of her emotional control.

She took a deep breath. “Not really. I never seemed to fit in with her plans.”

“That’s tough on kids.”

“I survived. Mary Beth tells me that you have twins.”

“I do. Janey and Jimmy. They’re five.”

She couldn’t think of anything else to say. She knew zilch about children. And, she reminded herself, she really didn’t want to encourage any further intimacy. She’d said too much already. Carrie clamped her teeth together and tried not to squirm.

The silence dragged on for an eternity.

Finally Frank said, “You mentioned doing other kinds of research besides genealogy.”

“Yes.”

“What kinds?”

Choosing her words carefully, she said, “Titles, missing heirs, that sort of thing.” Which was technically true.

“Ah. Missing heirs. Sounds intriguing. Found any folks in Naconiche County who have inherited a bundle from a long-lost relative?”

She laughed. “Not yet.”

“I think everybody has had the dream that some long-lost relative rolling in dough will kick the bucket and leave a fortune to them.”

“Do you have any long-lost relatives?”

“Only my mother’s great-uncle Heck Tatum. He went to California and was never heard from again.”

“When was this?” Carrie asked.

“I’m not exactly sure. Sometime before 1920, I believe.”

“You never know. He may have struck it rich in real estate.”

Frank chuckled. “I doubt it. From what my mother tells me about Uncle Heck, it’s more likely that he wound up in jail than in the money. He was the black sheep of his family. I think he left here just one step ahead of the sheriff.”

When they arrived at the tearoom, Carrie meant to duck out and go to her room for a few minutes, but she was so intrigued by the tale of Frank’s errant relative that she forgot her plan and walked with him to the door.

“What did he do?” she asked.

“You mean, to get the sheriff after him? As I recall the story, I believe that Uncle Heck made his living cooking moonshine and stealing cows. Folks around here don’t cotton to cattle rustling. Back then it was sometimes a hanging offense.”

“Hanging?”

“Yep.”

A few people were waiting for tables, but Frank waved to someone. “There are Dad and J.J. Come on, we’ll join them.”

“Oh, I don’t want to horn in when you’re having lunch with your family.”

“You wouldn’t be horning in. Come on.”

He steered her to the table for four.

J.J. and the older man stood as they approached, and Frank introduced Carrie to his father. Wes Outlaw was tall like his sons and she could see the family resemblance except that his dark hair was gray, his fingers were knobby and his waist had thickened a bit. He had the same great smile, and it flashed across his weathered face when he told her to call him Wes.

“I was just telling Carrie about Mama’s great-uncle Heck.”

“Ah, the cattle rustler,” Wes said.

“And the moonshiner,” Carrie added.

Wes grinned. “Nobody around here was bothered much by the moonshining—fact is, most folks bought a jug from him now and then, I understand. But stealing cows is serious business.”

All three of the Outlaws were raconteurs, and they kept her entertained during lunch with funny stories about some of the lawless characters in the county’s history. They seemed to enjoy topping one another’s yarns.

As they lingered over coffee and dessert, Carrie laughed as J.J. told in great detail about the night that a young man and his friends had a few too many beers and put a pig in the mayor’s Cadillac. “That pig made a big mess,” J.J. said.

“It didn’t,” Carrie said, laughing.

J.J. grinned. “It did. All over everywhere.”

“I had a hard time,” Frank said, “keeping a straight face when those kids were brought before me.”

“What did you do to them?”

“Gave them a stern lecture and made them put in a lot of hours of community service.”

Carrie glanced at her watch, then looked around the room. The place was almost deserted. “Sorry, but I have to go.” She reached for her wallet.

“Today’s on me,” Frank said.

“I’ll get the next one.” Why had she said that? What happened to the resolution that she wasn’t going to spend any more time with Frank Outlaw? She mentally shrugged. What was the harm? She enjoyed his company; she liked his family. No big deal. In a few weeks she’d be in West Texas or Oklahoma on her next project. She was going to take a page from Amanda’s book and live for the moment.

She said her goodbyes and went to her room to work.

“MIND IF I CATCH a ride back to the courthouse with one of you?” Frank asked over a second cup of coffee.

“Be glad to drop you off,” his father said. “Say, I like your young woman. Seems to have a head on her shoulders.”

“She’s not my young woman,” Frank told him. “She’s just someone in town for a few days to do some research.”

“What kind of research?”

“Genealogy,” J.J. said.

“And titles and missing heirs,” Frank added.

“Hmm,” Wes said, rubbing his mouth the way he always did when he was thinking. “What kind of titles?”

“Land, I imagine. She spends a lot of time in the tax office.”

“Did you invite her to go with us to the musical Saturday night?” J.J. asked Frank.

“Uh, no.”

“Why the hell not? She’s single, good-looking and fun to talk to. Ask her.”

“I’ll think about it.”

J.J. gave an exasperated snort. “I’m going to the kitchen to see Mary Beth.”

Wes pushed back his chair. “You ’bout ready to go?”

“Anytime. Just don’t you start on me.”

“Start on you? About what, son?”

“About Carrie.”

His dad held up his hands in surrender. “I won’t say a word.”

CARRIE WORKED in her room for the entire afternoon. There were some serious gaps in the information she’d gathered so far. She was going to have to run down some deeds, land titles and some missing heirs. She hadn’t lied about that to Frank. One of the tough things about her job was locating heirs when property owners died and didn’t leave a will. Texas had very specific guidelines about who inherited in such cases. Figuring out who owned what could get complicated.

This part of her job required patience and persistence. It was often easier simply to talk to the existing landowners and get information to at least point her in the right direction, but since Uncle Tuck wanted things kept quiet as long as possible, she was handicapped in her search. If she ran into too many problems, she’d have to start questioning the locals. Maybe that’s where Millie the librarian might help.

After working at her computer for several hours, Carrie felt as if she was going cross-eyed. She saved her work, then stretched and got up. No wonder her eyes were tired. It was growing dark. But at least her material was organized, and she was ready to start work at the county clerk’s office the next day.

She thought about jogging, then remembered that this was the night Mary Beth taught aerobics. She ate an apple, washed her face, then changed into her sneakers and workout clothes.

By the time Carrie arrived at unit two, several women had gathered.

Mary Beth looked up and saw her. “Hi, Carrie. Come on in and let me get you acquainted with everybody.”

She led her to two women and introduced her to Ellen, a blonde who was in real estate, and Dixie, a brunette who was in remarkably good shape for a mother of six children. Mary Beth said, “These two are my best buddies from high school. Can you believe that we used to be cheerleaders together?”

Carrie laughed. “I was a high school cheerleader, too. It seems like eons ago.”

She also met Dr. Kelly Martin, a stunning green-eyed redhead, whose long curls were held atop her head with a big yellow clip.

“Dr. Kelly is the person you want to see if you break your leg or get the flu,” Mary Beth said. “The best doctor in Naconiche.”

Dr. Kelly grinned and stuck out her hand. “Hi, Carrie. I hope you don’t need to see me professionally. Are you new in town?”

“No, just visiting for a few weeks.” Carrie studied the doctor’s face. “You look very familiar to me. Have we met?”

“I don’t know. I was just thinking the same thing. I grew up in Dallas. Did you?”

Carrie shook her head. “Did you go to the University of Texas?”

“Sure did.” She smiled knowingly, then mentioned the name of a sorority.

Memories flashed through Carrie’s mind, and she smiled as well. “Kelly Martin. Now I remember. You were a year or two ahead of me. But your hair was long and straight then, and you wore glasses.”

“I’ve had Lasik on my eyes, and I don’t have time anymore to blow-dry this mop into submission every morning. It’s great to see you again. You look gorgeous as always. It’s those eyes I remembered.” Kelly turned to Mary Beth. “Would you believe that Carrie and I were sorority sisters at UT years ago?”

“You’re kidding! That’s wonderful.”

“Are you going to be in town over the weekend?” Kelly asked Carrie.

“Sure am.”

“Fantastic. Let’s get together Sunday afternoon and catch up.”

They made plans for a late lunch, and there was barely time for a brief exchange of names with four other women before the class began. One of them was named Millie. The librarian? Carrie wondered.

She didn’t wonder long because Mary Beth went into her drill sergeant mode, and for almost an hour Carrie was too busy keeping the pace to think about much of anything. By the time they stopped to cool down, she was pooped and wet with sweat. She stretched out on the floor, flung her arms wide and sucked in deep breaths. “I may die,” she said to Kelly, who was next to her.

Kelly laughed. “I doubt it. But Mary Beth’s no wuss. She’s tough. I’ve got to run home and shower and make rounds at the hospital. See you Sunday.”

Carrie wiggled her fingers. After several of the women had left, she rose. “I thought I was in better shape,” she said to Mary Beth, who was standing with Ellen and Dixie.

“You’re in better shape than me,” Ellen said. “I still can’t make it through the whole session without resting several times.”

“Me, either,” Dixie chimed in.

“Yeah,” Ellen said, “but you had a baby not too long ago.”

“You’re all doing great,” Mary Beth said. “Remember that I said you should go at your own pace. You should have taken a break, Carrie.”

She chuckled. “What can I tell you? I’m a high achiever. I’m going to drag myself to my room and take a shower.”

“Have you had dinner?” Mary Beth asked.

“No, but I picked up something to nuke later.”

“Why don’t you join Ellen, Dixie and me at the tearoom for a light supper? It’s only leftovers, but we’d love to have you.”

Carrie laughed. “I’m a bit odoriferous for a social occasion.”

“Oh, piddle,” Dixie said with a dismissing wave. “We’ve all been sweating like pigs. Forget about it and come on. Mary Beth has saved us some chocolate cake.”

“Chocolate? How can I resist? That stuff is sinful.”

The four of them trudged over to the tearoom. Or rather, three of them trudged. Mary Beth still had a spring in her step.

They spent a leisurely hour over their simple meal, and Carrie thoroughly enjoyed getting to know the women, making girl-talk. Her job kept her on the road so much that she didn’t have much time to spend with friends, especially female friends. In fact, now that she thought about it, she didn’t have very many women friends left. Their lives had taken them in different directions, and she hadn’t taken the time to cultivate new friendships to fill the void.

Dixie was the first to rise. “I’ve got to get a move on or Jack will be sending out a posse,” she said. “Great to meet you, Carrie. I hope you’ll join us for as long as you’re in town.”

“Me, too,” Ellen said. “Nobody will be sending out a posse for me, but I know my sitter would like to get home early, and I’m riding with Dixie.”

After the two left, Carrie helped carry the dishes into the kitchen. “This was really fun,” she said. “Thanks for inviting me.”

“We enjoyed having you,” Mary Beth said. “Listen, if you’re going to be around tomorrow night and don’t have plans, why don’t you go to the football game with us? Then, watching high school football may not be your idea of a scintillating evening.”

“Lord, I haven’t been to a football game in ages.”

“We have a winning team this year, and everybody in town will be there. It’s the only Friday night entertainment around here. Go with us. We’ll have hot dogs and peanuts, and root for the Mustangs.”

“With you and Dixie and Ellen?”

“No, with J.J., Katy and me. I insist. Be ready about six-thirty. Wear jeans and bring a jacket.”

Carrie tried to weasel out of the invitation, but Mary Beth wouldn’t take no for an answer.

What the heck. She didn’t have anything better to do, and sitting around a hotel room alone with only a TV for company got very old very quickly.

“You’re on,” Carrie said. “Shall I bring my pompoms?”