Читать книгу All Roads Lead to Texas - Linda Warren - Страница 10

CALLIE SIGNED THE NECESSARY papers and everything that had happened seemed real for the first time. She and the kids would be living in Homestead and hopefully Nigel would never find them, or at least not until her lawyer had procured a hearing.

Her main concern was sleeping arrangements for the night. Miranda wanted them to stay with her and her mom until the house was ready, but Callie couldn’t intrude or involve Miranda any further in her situation. She had to make a home for the kids.

Miranda said the feed store carried sleeping bags, so after Callie unloaded the car she planned to go there. As she drove up to her house, she noticed an old tan truck parked in front. A rack was on the back with lumber. This had to be the carpenter—June Bug.

They got out and saw two men, somewhere in their thirties, inspecting the rotting column. One was tall and heavy-set, the other short and wiry. The short one walked toward her with quick steps. He wore jeans, a T-shirt and a baseball cap that read Dallas Cowboys. As he reached her side, she realized he was shorter than her. He couldn’t be more than five feet two inches tall.

“Howdy, ma’am. I’m June Bug Stromiski. Miss Miranda said you need some carpenter work done.” He talked fast, not even taking a breath.

“Yes, I do. Thank you for coming.” But for the life of her she couldn’t figure out how this little man could repair her big house. He didn’t seem to have enough strength to drive in a nail. But she shouldn’t judge him. She needed his help and hopefully Miranda knew him well enough to be confident that he could do the job.

“This is my cousin, Bubba Joe Worczak. He’s my helper.”

Bubba looked like a lineman for the Dallas Cowboys and capable of doing anything. But after a bit of conversation, Callie realized that June Bug was the brains of the duo and Bubba Joe the brawn.

“Why they call you June Bug?” Brit asked.

June Bug shrugged. “That’s a long story.”

“’Cause he eats bugs, that’s why,” Bubba Joe spoke up.

“What!”

“That’s right.” Bubba Joe nodded.

“You do not,” Adam said, always the skeptic.

Bubba Joe plucked a bug from the grass. “Show ’em, June Bug,” he said.

June Bug popped it into his mouth and crunched away. Callie gasped and wanted to cover the kids eyes for some silly reason. They stood there with their mouths open, unable to speak.

“Tastes kind of like chicken,” June Bug said in between munching. “If you have a real good imagination.”

Callie found her voice. “Please don’t do that in front of my children. Please don’t do it at all. It’s very unhealthy.”

“Sorry, ma’am, I’ve been doing it since I was ten years old.”

“Why?”

“I’m little. I’ve always been little and boys picked on me at school and I got beat up almost every day. They called me runt and things like that. Billy Clyde Hemphill was the worst. He’d hold my face down in the grass with his knee on the back of my neck until I couldn’t breathe. He’d always say, ‘Eat dirt, runt.’ One day as he was coming toward me on the playground, I just got tired of it and knew I had to do something. I saw a june bug crawling on the playground equipment and I picked it up and put it in my mouth before I could think about it.” He wheezed for a breath.

“Billy Clyde stopped in his tracks and the kids gathered round. I found another bug and ate it, then I handed one to Billy Clyde and told him it was his turn. He backed off saying I was crazy and the kids started calling him chicken. He ran away, but he never picked on me again. No one did. And that’s the way I like it.”

Callie just stared at him. “Why do you still eat them?”

Just then a truck drove by and someone hollered, “Hey, June Bug, what’s for supper?”

“Anything flying,” June Bug yelled back, and they heard laughter all the way to the stop sign.

Callie knew why he kept eating the bugs. It made him taller in his eyes, bigger and able to take on the town. But she refused to call him June Bug.

“What’s your given name?”

“Odell, ma’am, youngest of ten kids and the only boy. I have nine sisters.”

“I’ll call you Odell.”

“Only my mama and my sisters call me that.”

“I’ll still call you Odell.” To her, calling him June Bug would be making fun of him and she couldn’t do that.

“Yes, ma’am.”

For the next thirty minutes he showed her what needed to be done to the column and veranda to secure it and she told him to go ahead with the work. They were unloading the car when an older lady jogged up in sweatpants, a T-shirt stretched over an ample bosom and sneakers. Her gray hair was curled in a tight perm.

“I’m Ethel Mae Stromiski,” she introduced herself, wiping sweat from her forehead and gasping for air.

“Nice to meet you,” Callie said, figuring this was Odell’s mama.

“I cleaned up two bedrooms and the bath like Miranda asked me to.” She talked fast just like her son, reminding Callie of the hum of a sewing machine. She listened close to catch each word.

“Thank you. I appreciate it.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow to do more cleaning.”

“I—ah—”

“I got to jog this damn mile like the doctor told me to. He said if I want to keep living I need to exercise more. What I need is a damn cigarette. Odell, what time you coming home for supper?” She didn’t even take a breath.

“I don’t live with you anymore. I’ll come home when I want to.”

“Smart-ass,” Ethel muttered to Callie and gulped a quick breath. “He built him a room in the back of my house and he calls that moving out. Kids always have to do somethin’ different. What’s wrong with living with your mama? You just better not be eating bugs again,” she yelled to Odell. “Or I’ll wash your mouth out with soap.”

“Go home, Mama. I got work to do.”

“Supper will be ready at six.”

“I won’t be there.”

“Where you gonna eat?”

“Maybe I’ll have a beer at the Lone Wolf. I don’t know. It’s my business.”

“Kids—you give ’em your heart and they stomp on it. Now if he was meeting a woman at the Lone Wolf instead of Bubba Joe, I wouldn’t mind. I gotta find that boy a woman.” With that she jogged off down the street, panting.

“Is this a circus or what?” Adam asked.

“Be nice,” Callie scolded, but she could feel herself wanting to laugh and she hadn’t felt that way since her mother had died. She hadn’t felt much of anything besides fear. Homestead was going to be good for them—a simple way of life with some interesting characters. Though she couldn’t get too friendly with the townspeople. To guard their safety, she had to keep a low profile.

With all the luggage in the house, Callie decided that buying sleeping bags was the next order of business, but first she had to call her lawyer, Gail Baxter. She got her answering machine so she called her friend, Beth, in New York, for an update.

She’d bought the phone under the name of Amy Austin so if the FBI starting checking out her lawyer or her friend’s phone, they couldn’t trace it to Callie Lambert. She didn’t want to use her first name—it might give her away. She’d had no problem getting the phone in that name.

Beth picked up on the second ring.

“Oh, Callie, I’m so glad you’re okay. Just don’t tell me where you are because I’m not good under pressure.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t plan to. How are things there?”

“Not as much commotion as you’d think. The FBI is investigating and they questioned everyone here at the restaurant, but they were actually nice. I told them that if you took the kids then they were safe because Nigel was abusing them. They asked what kind of abuse and I told them all the things you’d told me and how worried you were.”

“Did they believe you?”

“I suppose so because Nigel came into the restaurant and accused me of spreading lies about him. Someone called the police and they picked him up. One of the agents came in yesterday and said your lawyer had called and informed them that you had the kids and you weren’t bringing them back until a hearing was set. He told me to call if I heard from you.”

“I’m sorry you’re caught in the middle of this.”

“Don’t worry. If I don’t know anything, I can’t tell them anything. Just take care of yourself and those kids.”

Callie hung up hoping her lawyer could get something done. She could wait as long as the kids weren’t with Nigel.

The kids were outside watching Odell and Bubba Joe work. She knew they were waiting for Odell to eat another bug. Oh yes, life was changing.

She grabbed her purse and saw the sheriff’s car drive up. Wade got out and opened his trunk. Another officer was with him. Now what? She didn’t need him showing up every few minutes. She laid down her purse and stormed outside. Wade strolled along the walkway with a sleeping bag in each hand. The other man also had two bags.

Wade set his on the porch. “Miranda said you planned to stay here so I thought you might need these.”

“I was planning to buy them myself.” She tried to quell her annoyance and couldn’t. “I might look helpless, but I assure you, Sheriff, that I’m not. I can take care of my family.”

Wade tipped back his hat. “No doubt in my mind about that, ma’am, but you’re not in Chicago anymore. Around here we try to help each other, especially the newcomers. I’m sorry if you have a problem with that.”

The kids came running, preventing her from further embarrassment. She was not only giving him a red flag, she was waving it in front of him. Why couldn’t she keep her cool around him? And why did he have to be so damn handsome?

“Sleeping bags,” Brit shouted. “Are they for us?”

Wade glanced at Callie for an answer.

She swallowed her pride. “Yes. The sheriff brought them for us.”

“Cool,” Brit said. “And look, there’s a purple one. I get it.”

The other man brought his bags forward and Wade introduced him. “This is Virgil Dunn, my deputy.” Painfully thin, Virgil was average height and wore the same kind of clothes as Wade, except his were starched and ironed, noticeably so. And he wore a tie. It was obvious Virgil was proud of his job.

“Nice to meet you,” Callie mumbled.

“Welcome to Homestead, ma’am.” He nodded his head and laid the sleeping bags by the others with nervous, quick movements.

“Look, there’s a Barbie one,” Mary Beth cried. “I get it. I get it.”

“Oh, yay. There’s one with horses on it. I want it.” Brit was changing her mind.

“You can’t have two, stupid,” Adam said with his usual scowl.

“You can have the purple one,” Brit told him.

The scowl became fierce. “I’m not sleeping in a purple bag.”

“I’ll take the purple bag,” Callie intervened. “Adam, you can take the nice green one.”

“Okay, but she shouldn’t get to change her mind. She’s always doing that.”

Brit stuck out her tongue at him.

“The kids are tired and out of sorts, so I better get their sleeping arrangements set up.” Callie thought it was time to end this visit. “I do appreciate the sleeping bags. I’m sorry I was curt. I’m tired, too.”

“No problem,” Wade said and made to walk off, but he turned back. “Brit, if it’s okay with your mom, I have a horse you can ride. She’s quite tame and I’ll teach you the basics.”

“Oh, wow, that’s totally cool.” Brit looked at Callie. “Can I, please? Can I?”

“I—ah—”

Seeing Callie’s difficulty, he added, “Think about it overnight and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He walked down the steps, followed by the deputy, and they went to where Odell was working. Their voices floated over her head.

“Is it going to be much of a problem to fix?” That was Wade’s masculine voice.

“No, Sheriff, just take a little time, but I’ll make it rock solid.”

“Thanks, June Bug.”

“Bubba Joe, don’t be climbing on that roof.” That was the deputy. “You’ll fall through and try to sue the city.”

“Give it a rest, Virgil,” Wade said. “Let’s go.”

Callie watched them leave feeling as if she were in a fishbowl with the people of Homestead looking in. And there wasn’t any escape. But the thought did cross her mind that being trapped with Wade Montgomery wouldn’t be too bad. That thought lasted a split second. The man probably labeled her a raving lunatic with her mood swings. She had to stay focused on her siblings’ futures.

Picking up a bag, she followed the kids inside.

“THAT MRS. AUSTIN SURE IS touchy,” Virgil said as they reached the sheriff’s office. “Mighty pretty, too.”

“I think she just wants her space, Virg.” Wade had his own suspicions, but he wouldn’t mention them to Virgil. Virgil’s overactive imagination sometimes ran away with him and he didn’t want to give him any ammunition.

Wade was just trying to help her. He’d found the horse sleeping bag and the green one at the feed store, but he’d had to search through Tanner’s General Store, which had an assortment of anything imaginable, to find the purple and Barbie ones. And she’d bit his head off for no reason.

So he intended to back off and give Callie her space. The incidents happening to the newcomers bothered him though. He didn’t want anything to happen to those kids. Or Callie. The house wasn’t that far from his office and he could keep an eye on things without her really knowing.

He cursed himself for mentioning the horse. Clearly Callie didn’t want her daughter to ride. At least not with him. He’d have to rescind the invitation, but he hated to break the little girl’s heart.

Before he could reach his office, Millicent Niebauer came through the door, a birdlike woman with a camera around her neck and a pencil behind her ear. Barbara Jean, his secretary, was gone for the day or he’d let her handle Millicent. She and her husband, Hiram, ran the local newspaper and Millie was always on the lookout for a story. Or more to the point, gossip.

“Sheriff, I heard we have newcomers in town over at the Hellmuth house.”

“Yes, Millie. Mrs. Austin arrived today with her three kids.”

“What’s she like?”

“Touchy,” Virgil spoke up.

“What do you mean?” Millicent turned to him and Wade sighed. Virgil was worse than any old woman gossip.

“Well, you see, the sheriff and me took sleeping bags over to—”

“Virg, aren’t you supposed to answer that call we just got from the Tuttles’ neighbor?” The only way to sidetrack Virgil was with police work.

“Ah, Sheriff, I hate going over there. Cora Lou shoots at Norris every time he comes home from one of his long-haul trips, accusing him of having an affair. I’m getting tired of having to break them up. I don’t know how she misses him. His chest is as broad as a side of a barn.” Virgil headed for the door, still grumbling. “I just might arrest Cora Lou and maybe she’d stop all this foolishness.”

“Then do it,” Wade said as the door closed.

“What’s the scoop on the new lady, Sheriff?” Millie didn’t skip a beat. “Virgil said she’s touchy. Why do you think that is?”

Wade suppressed a groan. As always, Millie was searching for a story where there wasn’t one. “There’s no story, Millie. She’s a single mom with three kids and wants to raise them in a small-town atmosphere.”

“Single, hmm?” Millicent scribbled something on a pad. “That’s going to get the young bucks in this town stirred up. Like when Kristin and Kayla came to town. They found husbands. You think Mrs. Austin’s looking for a husband?”

“I got work to do.” He walked into his office and closed the door.

A lot of things didn’t add up with Callie Austin, her nervousness, her desire to be alone and her kids calling her by her name. That was odd. It had thrown him for a minute. He’d taken the high road, though, and hadn’t asked. He’d learned that discretion worked best in his job. The details usually came out later, especially the ones people tried to keep hidden.

Sinking into his chair, he couldn’t stop thinking about Callie. Millie thought she was looking for a husband. He didn’t think so, but she was looking for something. What? He had no idea. Maybe it was peace and quiet and time to get over her husband’s death.

Whatever it was, the town had to leave her alone.

And that included him.

CALLIE ARRANGED the sleeping bags in one of the bedrooms. She had to put hers in between Brit and Mary Beth because both wanted to sleep by her. Adam arranged his at their feet. They found a table for Fred and fed him. Then Callie opened the ice chest with their food stash. Since she didn’t know the layout of the town, she thought it best if they just had a sandwich for tonight. Their diet had been atrocious lately, fast food and sandwiches. Until she got the kitchen fixed, she didn’t know how much longer it would be before she could cook them a decent meal.

They gathered in the parlor around the ice chest, sitting on the floor. “I want peanut butter,” Mary Beth said, Miss Winnie in her lap. “Peanut butter with bananas. You know how I like it, Callie.”

“I sure do, sweetie.”

“I want mine with grape jelly,” Brit added.

Adam made a face. “’Cause it’s purple.”

Brit stuck out her tongue again.

“You’re stupid,” Adam told her.

“You’re stupider.”

Callie stopped in the process of opening the jar. The kids were acting so out of character and Callie suspected it had something to do with Nigel’s abuse. They’d gotten along well until he’d come into their lives; now they were bickering and being rude. It had to stop.

“We have to talk. Adam, you will not call your sister stupid again. And Brit, you will stop sticking out your tongue.”

“What if I forget?” Brit asked.

“Then you say I’m sorry.”

“To him.” She jabbed a thumb toward Adam. “No wa…” Her voice fluttered away when she saw the look on Callie’s face. “Okay, but I think you need to punish him—make him sleep in the attic or something.”

“No, Callie,” Mary Beth cried. “Don’t make Adam sleep in the attic.”

The thought of any of them being punished again upset Mary Beth. “No one is sleeping in the attic.” Callie rubbed Mary Beth’s arm to comfort her. “Let’s eat dinner, then we’ll take a bath and go to bed. We’re all tired.”

They ate their sandwiches in silence and Callie cut apples and oranges into slices. After eating, Callie gathered the remains and put them in a plastic bag. She noticed Mary Beth’s eyelids drooping. It was time for bed.

Brit and Mary Beth took a bath first in the antique tub with claw feet. It was almost identical to the one upstairs, except it was clean thanks to Ethel Mae. For something so old, it was in very good shape. The toilet had a pull chain and it worked. Being in the house was like taking a step back in time.

She helped the girls into their pajamas while Adam took his bath. Snug in their bags, Callie hurriedly took a bath and slipped into pajama bottoms and a T-shirt. She left the bathroom light on so the house wouldn’t be in total darkness.

Soon they were all comfy. Or so Callie thought. “Callie,” Mary Beth whispered.

“What, sweetie?”

“What if I wet the bed?”

“Then I’ll clean it up and we’ll go back to sleep.”

“But my sleeping bag’ll be wet.”

“Mary Beth, sweetie. Don’t worry about it. I’ll wash the bag tomorrow and you can slide in with me.”

“’Kay.” Mary Beth turned onto her side, Miss Winnie in her arms. “Night, Fred. Don’t be afraid. Callie’s here.”

They went through this every night. Mary Beth just needed reassurance. Before Glynis’s death, she’d never wet the bed or been afraid. Once their lives settled down, the bed-wetting would stop. Since they’d been on the run, Mary Beth had only wet the bed once—their first night in a motel. Callie was hoping that soon she wouldn’t be wetting the bed at all and she wouldn’t be so afraid.

Callie gazed into the semidarkness, listening to the occasional sound of a car and the creaks and noises of the old house. They were here. They were safe—for now. Just the thought of that relaxed her.

“I can’t sleep,” Brit complained.

“Me, neither,” Mary Beth chimed in. “Tell us a story.”

“Not the princess one again or I’ll puke.” Adam made his wishes known.

“There’s a prince for every princess, right, Callie?”

“Right,” she answered Brit’s question, but she wasn’t sure. She’d met a couple of horned toads in her day. And kissing didn’t help.

“Daddy was Mommy’s prince,” Mary Beth said.

“Yes, he was,” Callie agreed. There wasn’t a better man than John Lambert.

“And Nigel’s a frog.” Brit giggled. “You know what? If he comes here maybe we can get June Bug to eat him.”

“Maybe he’ll eat you.” Adam joined the conversation.

“Callie, he’s being mean again.” Brit wanted to make sure she knew that.

“Everyone go to sleep.”

Silence for a moment, then Mary Beth’s tiny voice asked, “Can Mommy see us?”

Callie swallowed. “Yes, she can.”

“Daddy, too?”

“Yes, Daddy, too.”

“Then that bad sheriff won’t arrest us ’cause they’ll take care of us.”

How Callie wished that were true. And that Glynis had never met Nigel or that John hadn’t died. Now she had to deal with the consequences.

Once she heard Brit and Mary Beth’s steady breathing, she slipped from her bag. Adam’s recent behavior was unacceptable and they had to discuss it. Lying on his back, he stared at the ceiling. She went down on her knees beside him.

“Can’t sleep?”

“No.”

“Why are you being so mean to your sister?”

He turned on his side to face her. “Because she’s being silly and she’s going to get us caught. Then they’ll take us back to Nigel and put you in jail. I can’t take that, Callie. I can’t. And if you’re in jail, I’ll just die. I’m so scared.”

“Oh, Adam.” She gathered him in her arms, her heart breaking. “Please stop worrying so much. I’ll take care of us. I promise.”

“But the sheriff keeps coming here.”

“He’s just being nice.” As she said the words, she knew they were true. Wade Montgomery was a nice man. “Listen to me. Worrying is my department and I will handle the sheriff. I want you to turn back into the sweet little boy you’ve always been. Okay?”

“Okay.” He rubbed his face against her.

“Now go to sleep.”

Callie walked out onto the front porch and sat in one of the rockers, her heart heavy. It was a beautiful moonlit night with a million stars twinkling through the live oaks. She drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around her legs, listening to the gentle serenade of the crickets. Everything was quiet. Peaceful. Except her thoughts.

How could her mother do this to them? she asked herself again. Put them in the position of fleeing from the law. So much anger churned inside her at the turmoil Adam was going through, and the grief and fear Mary Beth and Brit were experiencing. She tried not to be angry at Glynis, but she was. She’d been taken in by a con artist. Nigel had lavished her with attention and praise, something she’d needed after John’s death. Still, it didn’t give her the right to bring that awful man into their lives.

Glynis could be impulsive and selfish at times, but she’d never done anything like this. She and John had had a good marriage, a good life, so how could she fall for Nigel? Callie didn’t understand that and every time she’d tried to talk to her mother, Glynis would say they’d talk later. But later never came. Instead, a nightmare had followed and she was still…

Her thoughts skidded to an abrupt stop as a car pulled up to the curb. Wade. Again. He unfolded his tall frame from the vehicle and started up the walk. It was late—too late for a friendly visit. What was he doing here? There could only be one reason. He knew her identity and had come to arrest her.

Her first reaction was to run inside, lock the front door and get the kids out the back. But her car was in front.

She was trapped.

And she didn’t even hear a siren.