Читать книгу More to Texas than Cowboys - Roz Fox Denny - Страница 10

SLEEP EVADED GREER for the rest of the night. She slipped out of bed a number of times to check on Shelby. And to rattle the doors and windows and to listen in the kitchen for any caterwauling, as Noah Kelley had described the cries. She was haunted by the fact that the first sound had seemed so human. The subsequent ones Greer wasn’t so sure about.

When her bedside clock said five-thirty, she gave up attempting to sleep. Instead, she dressed and decided to put her restless energy to work doing something constructive, like unpacking their household.

She felt vulnerable and exposed standing in a brightly lit living room with gray layers of early dawn breaking, so much so that coverings for all the windows now headed her list of items to buy in town. She hoped the material her mother planned to use for kitchen curtains was opaque enough to leave her feeling secure.

Darn, she hated this loss of control. Hated the way the person or persons responsible for those night noises had undermined her confidence. She ran down a list of people who knew she was in town, but who might prefer she leave again. She still couldn’t help thinking it was just too convenient that she’d encountered Father Kelley at the river, and there’d been no sign of anyone else. No footprints except hers…and his.

Greer had the living room unpacked and set up much the same as their cabin at Whippoorwill had been by the time Shelby wandered out of her bedroom, still clutching a stuffed animal.

“Good morning, honeybun. How’s the arm today? Let me check your fingers. Kristin said we should keep an eye on them to make sure they don’t get puffy.”

“I can wiggle them and it doesn’t hurt.” Shelby skipped over to show her mother. As she crossed the room, her eyes widened and she grinned. “Did elves come in the night and make this room look just like our old house?”

Greer laughed. “Elf Mom deserves all the credit. While you snored away, sleepyhead, I’ve been busy. But Elf Mom needs a break. How about if I go fix pancakes and bacon for breakfast?”

“Can we have slices of the peach pie Miranda brought yesterday, instead? Grandma put it in the pantry, and we forgot about it last night.”

“You’re right. It slipped my mind because it was so late when we had supper. But Shelby, pie’s not what we eat for breakfast.”

“Why?”

“It’s too sweet. Pie is for dessert.”

“Peaches are fruit, Mama. And the syrup we put on pancakes is sweet.”

“Honestly, twerp, I’ve never known anybody who argued all the angles the way you do. I swear you’re going to be a lawyer when you grow up.” She ruffled Shelby’s sleep-flattened curls. “You know, pie does sound good. Who says we can’t break from tradition? We make the rules. You run and get dressed in the clothes I laid on your chest of drawers. I’ll make my coffee and pour you a glass of milk.”

“What’ll we do after breakfast? If we clean cottages, I’ll have to do stuff with one hand.

“I have something else in mind. Think you can hold the tape measure while I measure all our windows?”

Shelby nodded. “Why?”

“Because I don’t like not having our windows covered up at night. I thought we’d go to town, and I’ll see if the hardware store stocks louvered blinds.”

“Didn’t Grandma say she’s sewing us kitchen curtains?”

“Yes, but I started thinking that with guests having free run once we open, we’ll want our privacy. I believe there are blinds that fit behind curtains.”

“That’s okay then. ’Cause we don’t wanna hurt Grandma’s feelings.”

Greer caught the child close for an impulsive hug. “You’re a good kid, Shelby-girl. Do you know that?”

The girl wriggled loose. “You’re who taught me it’s not nice to hurt people’s feelings, Mama. You musta forgot yesterday, ’cause you weren’t very nice to Noah.”

“Father Kelley,” Greer reminded, a frown replacing her indulgent smile.

“He likes Noah better. We’re just s’posed to call him Father at church.”

“Shelby, didn’t you hear me say we’re not attending his church?”

“But I want to. Noah told me about lots of kids my age who go there.”

Shaking her head forcefully, Greer nevertheless saw that her protest was useless. Shelby dashed down the hall and disappeared into her room.

Lord, but she was a stubborn kid. Greer wondered if that was a trait Shelby had inherited from her dad? Then again, maybe it came from the Bell side of the family. Certainly her dad was bullheaded enough.

Greer washed the breakfast dishes by hand, as well as the ones left from their evening meal. It was a chore she didn’t mind. She’d had the movers leave a still-crated commercial-grade dishwasher in a cookhouse that needed repair. Once the dishes were dried and put away, she finished writing her list.

On the drive to town, Shelby was her usual chatterbug self. Greer had a habit of listening with half an ear so she could respond appropriately when necessary. Like now, as Shelby leaned forward and asked loudly, “Can we eat at the café Dr. Kristin told us about? Callie’s café.”

“Call her Kristin, honey, not doctor.”

“Why? You said we hafta call Noah Father Kelley.”

“Kristin Gallagher is a doctor’s assistant, not a licensed physician.” Glancing over her shoulder, Greer sighed. “Shelby, must you always question everything I say?”

The girl lunged back against the seat. “My old teacher said asking questions is good.”

“When it pertains to schoolwork, yes. Did you know that when I was your age, a parent’s word was considered law? My mom and dad’s stock answer was do it because I said so.”

“Well, your mom’s a teacher so I guess that’s why. Mama, what does my grandpa do?”

“He farms. He used to grow squash. And kept sheep that he sheared for wool. Pigs, which he marketed twice a year. He raised chickens he sold as fryers, but he also maintained a flock of hens strictly for laying eggs.”

“No horses or cows?”

“I had one saddle horse. Dad didn’t raise beef. We didn’t have the grazing land. It wouldn’t have been worthwhile when he could raise enough sheep to make it pay.”

“Is that why we’re getting sheep? You wanna be like Grandpa?”

Greer paused. “That’s not why I decided on sheep. Cal Sanderson said they’d be easier to raise than cattle. And sheep will present our guests with a different aspect of Western life. Plus we’ll shear them and sell the wool. If everything works out the way I hope, maybe later I can lease land and get a few head of cattle. Okay, Q and A time is over. Our first stop is the hardware store.”

“You never said if we could eat lunch at the café, Mama.”

“Let’s see what time I finish all our errands. After the hardware store, I want to talk with the sheriff.”

“Gosh, why? I don’t want to talk to any old sheriff. They shoot people.”

“Shelby, where do you get these wild notions?”

“From Luke and Lindsay. And from TV.”

“I should’ve known,” Greer muttered, thinking she’d placed too much trust in Cal and Marisa’s kids being good role models for Shelby. “Here in Homestead, honey, our sheriff is a good guy.”

Greer dug out her list and shepherded Shelby into another store that brought back a flood of memories. This time, the man behind the counter was the one she remembered. Myron Guthrie hadn’t changed, except that his hair had gone from gray to white. He’d always been as wide as he was tall. He had no hair atop his head, but wore bushy muttonchop sideburns and a full beard. He still peered at customers over a pair of half-glasses. And he had a good memory, because he knew Greer on sight.

“Well, well, if your little gal ain’t the spittin’ image of you at the same age, Greer Bell. If you’re wonderin’ how I knew you was back, it’s because I ran into Ed Tanner having breakfast this mornin’ at Callie’s. He said you’re fixin’ to spruce up Jase Farley’s old hunting ranch.”

“That’s right. I qualified for the mayor’s land giveaway program. We’re going to open a guest ranch. This is my daughter. She’s nine. Her name is Shelby.”

“Pretty name for a pretty little gal.” Myron took note of Shelby’s shiny new cast as he unscrewed the lid of a squat glass jar and extended it over the counter. “I wonder if you like Tootsie Pops as much as your mama always did.”

Shelby’s eyes lit up, but suddenly shy, she backed against Greer and only gazed at the candy through lowered eyelashes.

“It’s okay to take one.” Greer nudged her forward. “Mr. Guthrie’s been giving his customers lollypops from the day he opened the store.” Smiling, Greer selected one with a red wrapper. She watched Shelby reach in the jar and pull out her favorite grape candy.

Myron screwed the lid back on the jar. He pointed out a waste basket near the door where Shelby could deposit both candy wrappers. Then he focused on Greer, who’d popped the candy into her mouth. “I doubt you stopped in just to pass the time of day. I see you’ve got a list.”

Greer cast a furtive glance at the door to make sure Shelby was still occupied. “Uh, Myron, first I’d like to fill out an application to purchase a small-caliber gun. I’d rather not let Shelby know. She slept through a situation that happened at the ranch last night.” In brief terms, Greer described the screams.

He drew his bushy brows together. “Probably some danged teenage boys messin’ around the river. Wade and his deputy have had run-ins with kids, or so Millicent reported in the paper.” Myron opened a drawer and got out a form, which he shoved across the counter. “A woman and kid all alone that far out probably oughta have a gun. Just be careful who you go shootin’ at, missy. You don’t want to be the one who ends up warming Wade Montgomery’s jail if you nail somebody’s ornery kid.”

Greer took the pen and started writing. “Jock’s no longer sheriff?”

“Jock retired. Homestead’s lucky to get his son. Wade’s more evenhanded than his pa.”

“Hmm. So, you think it was kids? I planned on going by the sheriff’s to file a complaint. Maybe that’s not necessary.”

“Won’t hurt,” he said, taking her completed form. “Wade likes to keep a tight rein on his town. What with all the new folks moving in thanks to the mayor’s scheme, there’s bound to be new kinds of trouble.”

“I guess townspeople aren’t happy with what Miranda’s done to resurrect Homestead.”

“Me, I’m happy as a clam at high tide.” The big man grinned like a boy. “Haven’t had so much business in five years, what with all you kids coming home to rebuild. I meant that the town council was real divided on our Miranda’s plan. You know how it is with Hill Country folks. Pa grumbles at the dinner table. His kid remembers that, so when he and his pals go hot-rodding at night, huntin’ up mischief, they maybe act out Pa’s grumblin’.”

Greer nodded absently. She’d formed her own suspicions about who was responsible for last night. And he wasn’t a hot-rodding teen. “I didn’t come just to apply for a gun permit, Myron. Do you sell mini blinds?” She laid her list on the counter. “These are the inside measurements for all my ranch house windows. I’ll need blinds later for the cottages, too, once I get them fixed up.”

Guthrie adjusted his glasses before scanning her figures. “You’re in luck, Greer. I unpacked a new order last week that includes blinds. I even got me one of those fancy cutters. I stock brown, white and ivory, but I can order blue or maroon if you want to wait. Come on, I’ll show you what I have.”

“Brown or ivory should do me.” Calling to Shelby, Greer fell in behind the waddling, short-legged store owner.

“There’s toys in aisle five if the little one wants to start making her Santa list.” Myron winked. “Diversifying is my wife, Sophie’s, idea. She likes to remind me every now and then that if she hadn’t suggested I branch out, we might’ve folded like so many of the other old-timers.”

Greer directed Shelby to an aisle already decked out with artificial Christmas trees. “I hope to be open by Thanksgiving, so I expect I’ll give the local economy a boost. Eventually I’ll need locks for the cottages, a door for the barn and materials to fix a falling down corral. The blinds and locks are all I’ll order today. Oh, and I need to find a company to fix the fence between my land and Gallagher’s pasture.”

“Smart idee, I’d say.” As Guthrie showed her the blinds and Greer made her selections, Myron gossiped. By the time he’d filled her Blazer with blinds and the hardware items she’d bought, Greer knew a lot more about the goings-on around Homestead.

“So, Shelby, you spent quite a while cruising the toy aisles. Did you start making your Santa list? Only a little over two months and it’ll be Christmas.”

“Mr. Guthrie’s got lots of good stuff. But I decided since you won’t get me a dog now, that’s all I’m going to ask Santa for this year.”

“Shelby, that’s no fair. I know Luke Sanderson told you where Santa’s gifts come from.”

The girl grinned cheekily. “So? Hey, did you decide if we get to eat lunch?”

“Okay. After I take care of some business with the sheriff. That’s provided you can stay quiet in his waiting room while I chat with Sheriff Montgomery.”

“I will, I promise. Is the sheriff somebody you know from when you used to live here?”

“Wade Montgomery is seven or eight years older than I am. As I recall, he left Homestead after high school and went to college in Houston. I think he took a job on the Houston police force. This is the first I knew he’d moved home. Myron said another guy I used to know still lives here. Ethan Ritter. You’ll be happy to hear he has a horse ranch not far from us. He runs a therapeutic riding school, and he married a woman who has a daughter about your age. They’ve adopted two kids, a boy and a girl who are nine. Father Kelley mentioned them yesterday, but I had no idea who he meant.”

“Mama, are all the guys you used to know married?”

Greer darted a sidelong glance at Shelby. “I don’t know. I suppose so. Why?”

“Nothin’. ’Cept I heard Luke’s mother tell his dad that maybe you coming home would be good. She said maybe you’d marry one of the guys you went to school with.”

Feeling her face heat, Greer concentrated on parking between a dusty white Ford with the sheriff’s insignia on the side and a light-colored pickup truck. Once she’d successfully jockeyed into the spot, Greer unbuckled her seat belt and faced her daughter. “Shel, I want to make this perfectly clear. I’m not on a husband hunt.”

The girl’s thin face fell, and she cast down her thick-lashed eyes.

“You seem unhappy about that.”

“Luke and Lindsay did cool things with their dad. I…hoped…” Shelby bit her lip and let her thought go unfinished.

“We do cool things together, Shel.” Now Greer found their exchange uncomfortable. She prided herself on being a very good mom. Had she fooled herself into believing Shelby had never missed having a dad?

The girl slipped out of her seat belt and opened the back door. “We do okay when you’re not working, Mama. I figured if I had a dad, even if he worked like Luke’s daddy, I’d have twice the chance that one of you wouldn’t be busy all the time.” Hopping down, she slammed the door.

Greer leaped out her side of the vehicle, making a mental note to devote more hours to Shelby, even though so much needed to be done to get the ranch ready for guests. Who was she kidding? As a single parent and a working mom, she knew that spare hours came at a premium. She sighed, unable to see how she could juggle her schedule.

The sheriff’s office was at the back of the courthouse. His dark wood walls were papered with Wanted posters. Greer assumed she’d be stuck answering a million questions once they left, as Shelby knelt on a bench, paying an inordinate amount of attention to the posters hanging at adult eye level. For a third-grader, Shelby read exceedingly well, and she retained everything. Greer hoped there weren’t a lot of really horrid criminals whose deeds would give her daughter nightmares.

Greer announced herself to a secretary. Barbara Jean Steck, it said on her name tag. “I’m new in town,” Greer told the woman. “A former resident, actually.” She darted a glance at Shelby and lowered her voice. “Uh, last night there was an incident at my ranch I’d like to report. To Wade if he’s available.”

“He’s in. Let me call and ask if he has time to see you, Ms. Bell.”

Wade flung open his office door a moment after his clerk buzzed him. “Greer, long time no see. Come in, come in. I don’t like hearing you’ve had an incident at your place. That would be the Dragging F, correct?”

Cringing, Greer’s eyes automatically cut to the girl still on her knees. “Will my daughter be all right by herself for a few minutes?” As Wade nodded Greer noticed that he hardly looked different from the brown-eyed, brown-haired, lanky guy he’d been in high school. There was an added maturity, of course. Or maybe the official khaki pants, white shirt, boots and heavy belt loaded with cop paraphernalia gave him that commanding aura.

Wade stepped around Greer and introduced himself to Shelby. “My wife’s sister, Brittany, is about your age. We’ll have to get you together one of these days. Brit will be ecstatic to have another girl in town. She thinks the school here is overrun with boys.”

Shelby, obviously impressed with Wade’s height and hardware, sat flat on the bench. She did little but nod with wide eyes.

Turning to his secretary, Wade said, “I’ll bet Barbara Jean can find a cold bottle of juice for Shelby while her mom and I have a word in my office.”

Smiling, the woman removed a bottle of fruit punch from a compact refrigerator. Greer smiled with pride when Shelby remembered to say thank you for the drink.

After leading Greer into a Spartan office, he pulled out a straight-backed chair across from his desk. Wade shut his office door and made his way to a swivel chair. “Problems out at the Dragging F so soon? Didn’t you just move in yesterday?”