Lawful Heart

by Amity Lassiter

  Before she could linger too long on it, she swung her feet out of the bed. She padded out of the bedroom in her sleep shorts and t-shirt, and wandered into the kitchen. In an effort to distract herself the night before, she’d prowled every inch of the apartment and set the coffee up to give herself something to do. And when she couldn’t think of a single other thing to do, she’d climbed into bed and fallen asleep far more quickly than she’d anticipated.

  Three short raps on the door startled her near out of her skin just as she was about to turn on the percolator—she was already growing accustomed to the aloneness, something she hadn’t really experienced in the time she’d been with Rob. Now that there was a little distance, she could already see so much of it in focus. The isolation, the veiled insults, the control. It was a bit like a fog was lifting. Inside of the situation, it had been fine—everything had seemed okay. But on this side of it, nothing about the relationship had been appropriate or healthy. Maybe this was a blessing in disguise.

  She crossed the floor to the door and peeked out the window to see Nan standing on the stoop. She pulled the door open and smiled. Just seeing the woman’s warm, welcoming, kind face made Norah feel better.

  “Good morning,” Nan said. “I’ve got breakfast upstairs. I’m heading into town afterwards for an appointment and I’d love if you came with me. You could take a stroll around or we could go visit your Aunt Gloria. I’m sure she’d be thrilled to see you.”

  “Oh I’m starving,” Norah said at the same time she felt Nan’s eyes settle on the bruise. “Let me just get dressed and I’ll come up.”

  Nan nodded, seeming to have a hard time drawing her eyes away from the fingerprints. When she finally did, there was resolve in her gaze. Her smile snapped back into place. “Sure, just come up when you’re ready.”

  She really was starving, so less than five minutes later Norah found herself knocking on the same door she’d come in the night before, when she’d had no idea what the next few days would hold. Now she felt hopeful, at least. Nan opened it for her and ushered her back into the house.

  “No need to knock, dear. You’re a guest. My home is yours.”

  Norah closed the door behind her and came into the kitchen to find the table set for the two of them with a stack of pancakes and bacon already in place. A bottle of maple syrup—real maple syrup, from Canada, in the middle. Nan was at the stove.

  “How do you like your eggs?” she asked.

  “Scrambled. Is there anything I can do to help?” Norah asked.

  Nan shook her head and waved her spatula in the direction of the dining table. “No, you sit.”

  A pot of coffee sat next to the pancakes and a mug at her place setting so, not having had time downstairs for coffee, Norah poured herself a cup—just one—and topped it off with the cream and sugar. Her stomach growled aloud.

  “Go ahead, get started, dear. I know I don’t have so much as a crust of bread down in that apartment. You must be starved.”

  As she filled her plate with food, the good fortune of having landed in this town, with these people, was not lost on her. She had maybe fifty dollars in her pocket, which was a lot considering the way she and Rob lived normally, but she’d secretly pawned a few things that couldn’t make the trip with them. It still wouldn’t have been enough for a bus ticket anywhere but it might have gotten her a meal and some time to regroup had she landed in a different town. It was a pure stroke of luck that she’d landed here instead.

  —SEVEN—

  “I appreciate you finding the time for me before the office opens, Jess,” Banks said, shifting to look around Dixie’s large belly to see the young horse vet, Jessie Marks, bent and listening through her stethoscope to the mare’s abdomen.

  The young woman smiled wide—it was no secret she had a little crush on him and they’d had a little flirtation going on since she’d come to town fresh out of vet school to replace their retiring resident veterinarian and take over his practice—but it was strictly a friends thing. They had an excellent business relationship and that was as far as Banks wanted to take it.

  “I was in the area. But you sounded about as nervous as…what’s that you say? A long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs…?” she tried, straightening and looping the stethoscope over her neck. Banks shook his head and laughed. She was young, and new, still getting to know the area and the old farmers she’d have to deal with while serving the region. He’d once teased her about being too formal and tried to instill some local language in her. She was still trying.

  “Yeah, that’s the right one,” he said with a chuckle. “And yeah, I’m nervous.”

  “So tell me again what happened last season?” she asked, sliding a hand over the mare’s flank as she continued the basic exam. Dixie turned her head to sniff the vet. Young vets were always good—they had all that fresh knowledge in their brains, and were often far more open to innovative treatments—but all too often, especially in this area, they moved on to bigger and better. The town desperately needed someone who was going to stick around. The livestock far outnumbered the citizens here, but there were a lot of older, curmudgeonly ranchers she’d have to deal with, so Banks did his best to ease that burden with humor and friendship.

  “Red bag. I was right here, but I still lost the foal.” His heart quickened just talking about it. Dixie was relatively young when it came to a broodmare’s career so they had a lot of time to get it right, but it had been his first major loss, and it still smarted.

  “I’m sorry, that’s tough with any size of operation but especially hard when you only breed a few mares each year.”

  He nodded, swallowing, trying to push down the panic that this year would be a repeat. Logically, he knew the chances of it happening again were slim. He usually felt like he had control over his life but losing last year’s foal had really thrown him for a loop.

  “Her three year old had just won a futurity championship, too. Big money. So yeah, I’m a little nervous. I had someone want this foal in utero, but I’m too anxious about a replay of last year to agree.”

  Jessie straightened and moved on to her bag to put away her stethoscope and take off her gloves.

  “Well, I don’t think you’ll have anything to worry about this year. I mean, these things can always be a kind of mixed bag, but nothing here today indicates any obvious risks. She’s got a couple weeks left. I’d just keep an eye on her, but I think you’ll be fine.” She gathered her things and stepped out of the stall. Banks followed behind. “But I’m only a phone call away if you have any problems. And I’d be glad to stop by again before then if you want me to.”

  She stopped outside the door of the stall where Crash waited with his tennis ball, and bent to take it from him, throwing it long down the hall of the barn and out the open door on the end. The dog scrambled after it. He knew she’d always throw it—she did every time she visited. If Crash was the voting committee, Banks would be married to Jessie by now. Little did the dog know it took more than good pitching skills to make a relationship.

  “I’ll probably take you up on that,” Banks said, releasing a breath.

  “The roughest, toughest lawman in Three Rivers and all it takes is a pony to make you a classic Nervous Nellie.”

  “You’re not wrong,” Banks said with a laugh, as he closed the gate behind her. While he made a good side income with his horses, his operation wasn’t big enough that he could afford to lose foals—or broodmares. The good ones were hard to come by and expensive. The foals he produced each year allowed him to finesse and improve his bloodlines and give back to the community he served.

  Because he’d been raised right, he picked up her kit and walked her to her truck, where Crash was waiting for one more throw.

  “I get it though. She’s a nice horse. And they earn you a decent livelihood. And if you didn’t have them, you’d have to have some kind of a social life,” she teased.

  “That’s enough out of you,” he chided. “I should let y
ou get on with the rest of your visits today. But thanks for calming my nerves a little.”

  “Anytime,” the vet said, reaching out to give him a firm handshake as she did at the end of every visit. Despite their playful teasing, there was nothing there but a platonic relationship between a vet and client, a sheriff and his constituent.

  “Like I said…call me if you need me. It’s what I’m here for.”

  “It’s how you make your living,” he teased, closing her door behind her. “I’ll see you around.”

  He watched her big truck pull out before he went back to bring Dixie out to her day pen and close up the barn. She’d be confined to a round pen near the barn while he was gone. Normally, he might have let her stay out on the big pasture with the rest of the mares, but because of last year’s events, he didn’t want the stress of separating her from the herd on top of anything else that might happen. She was happy to stand around munching hay—she’d been pregnant for almost a whole year by this point.

  “You be good, Dix. Keep your legs crossed until I get home from the office,” he said, giving her a parting scratch under her jaw as he headed back toward the house where his cruiser was parked.

  One of the advantages of being such a small detachment was that he could roll into the office whenever he wanted, as long as his deputy, Carter Collins, was picking up the slack. They traded off, keeping only a few regular office hours during the week, which of course were flexible depending on what else was going on in town. This time of year, Banks was the one showing up late; in the fall, Carter had taken to checking out his deer stands in the mornings since his divorce. It was like meditation for each of them, so they didn’t mind giving the other leeway. It wasn’t as though they had a very active territory to take care of.

  But today was a paperwork day, so he was going to be tied to the office for a few hours at least, much to his chagrin. It was, as Carter reminded him often, why he got paid more. Nan was always after him to hire a secretary who could stay on top of stuff because he always left everything till the end of the month when he had no choice but to get buried for a while. Sure, there were easier ways to do it, but it was how Sheriff Watling had done it, and Banks had stepped into the role of an old dog having trouble learning new tricks, despite being the youngest sheriff the county had ever seen.

  “All right, buddy. Time to go.”

  While the dog didn’t normally ride along on regular patrol, Crash did come for office days. It gave Banks a reason to unfold himself from over his desk a few times a day to let the dog out to pee and throw the ball on the lawn a couple times. And on the extremely rare occasion someone needed to come in to report anything, Crash had the head-in-lap-comfort-stare down perfectly.

  “Load up,” he said, holding the passenger door of his cruiser open. The dog jumped in spryly. He’d been with Banks since he was a puppy, and he remembered well having to lift him into that passenger seat. He could imagine ten years from now having to lift him in again; and that thought choked him up a little. So he didn’t have kids…he had a dog, and horses. They were like his children. And people didn’t understand that, but Banks didn’t give a damn.

  —EIGHT—

  “I’ll only be about ten minutes in here,” Nan said, gesturing to Baylor’s general store across the way, marked ‘Baylors’. Norah vaguely remembered the family, but did have strong memories of getting penny candies at their front counter. “You can come with me or wait, it’s up to you. Then we’ll head to Shady Pines.”

  “I’ll wait,” Norah said with a nod, drawing a breath. They’d only been in town a short time but she was feeling overwhelmed by the smallness of it already. She’d been in Denver a long time compared to how long she’d spent here, and she’d forgotten that everyone wanted to stop and talk, see how you were doing, ask after the new stranger. Nan crossed the street and Norah headed toward a bench she’d spotted near where Nan had parked.

  The town was small—cozy, some would say. Most of the people here had been here forever, and probably most would never leave. It seemed the kind of place you left the minute you could or else you intended to stay until you died. She didn’t hate it; it was just different and would take some adjusting to if she stayed here for the long term.

  The bench she’d spotted was just in front of the local pharmacy, which had a bright spring display in the front window. There was a flyer advertising a ‘Spring Fling!’, whatever that was, and nestled amongst the Easter grass and chocolates on display, something caught Norah’s eye. Before her butt had even hit the bench, she straightened again and pulled the door of the pharmacy open. Inside and to the left, a big gift display held what had caught her attention. Big sketch books and charcoal pencils.

  I shouldn’t, she told herself, turning away from the display to go down the family planning aisle. She collected a bottle of prenatal vitamins off the shelf, but her mind was still caught up in the display at the front of the store.

  She hadn’t drawn in a long time. It was one of those things Rob didn’t think was worth her time. In retrospect, that should have been another warning sign. She was good at what she did. And she’d loved it. But he’d slowly squeezed it out of her life so she could be consumed with only the things he deemed worthy. Norah walked slowly back up to the front display and pulled the sketch book and a pack of pencils off the display, doing the mental math. It wasn’t wise to bleed off almost half her money for the art supplies but her fingers were itching to close around the pencils the minute she picked up the package. Besides, what better way to mark the beginning of this new stage in her life than to pick the hobby back up? Before she could change her mind, she turned and headed to the register, where a young girl with braces in a pharmacist’s coat rang in her purchase. $23.50. Norah held her breath as she pulled out the small wad of bills she’d hidden in the inside pocket of her purse and counted out the money, letting that breath out when she collected her bag. She stepped back out into the street and everything felt sharper, brighter, and more important.

  With no preamble, she sat down on the bench and pulled the art supplies out, stuffing the bag with the vitamins into her purse. She shook a pencil out of the box and took it between her fingers, resisting the urge to smell it, but savoring the moment. The weight of it, the shape of it between her fingers. Like coming home. She sat for a moment, her eyes closed with the pencil in her fingertips, and felt the heaviness of her situation flow out of her with the low, deep breaths she drew and released. She flipped open the sketch book and let the pencil find the paper. It took a minute to find her stride, but soon Norah was drawing freely, her fingers moving almost of their own accord. She’d sketched out the rough outline of a portrait before she recognized the shape of the jaw, the tilt of the cowboy hat. Banks.

  He’d been kinder to her than he needed to—then, that was his job. But right now he was her knight in shining…cowboy hat, and apparently that was inspiring. She didn’t care, she was drawing for the first time in a year.

  She was totally engrossed in shading the crown of his hat when a distinctly masculine throat cleared and she realized there was a shadow cast across her paper. A hat, roughly the shape of the very one she was drawing.

  “Mornin’,” he said, while she scrambled to close the sketch book, a hot blush rising up her throat and blooming over her cheeks. Turning her face up to show him how he’d flustered her was nearly as embarrassing as being caught drawing his portrait. She blew out a breath, hoping her cheeks would cool quickly, and lifted her face, offering him a smile.

  “Good morning.”

  “Getting friendly with the town again are ya?”

  “Something like that,” Norah said with a smile, tucking the pencils into her purse. “Your Nan is just in the general store, and then we’re going to visit my Aunt Gloria.”

  “Ah,” he said, nodding to her sketch book. “I saw you were drawing something. You always had a sketch book on the bus, I remember. Still at it.”

  “Old habits die hard.”

&n
bsp; She’d loved to draw from an early age but after they left Three Rivers, it had become an obsession. They’d moved around a lot and so it became the thing that grounded her. Taking classes, developing her skill. That one familiar thing she could hold onto. It defined her. And she’d let it go to be with Rob. It had made sense then, but it didn’t now.

  “You’ll have to show me some of your work.”

  She gestured to the book on the bench beside her. “That’s about the sum total of it. All my old sketch books are in my parents’ basement in Denver.”

  “You have nothing else more recent?”

  Shaking her head, she traced her fingers along the coil spine of the book.

  “No, I haven’t drawn in a while.”

  “Later, then,” he said.

  She smiled.

  “Maybe.”

  But probably not. If the first thing that came out of her fingers after two years of idleness was his face, there would be more, if she knew her muse. And there was no way in hell she’d show him a sketchbook filled with his face, studies of his eyes, his rough knuckles and calloused fingers…she straightened as a shiver drew up her spine thinking of Banks’ hands. What the hell has gotten into me? Perhaps it was the pregnancy hormones? Definitely pregnancy hormones.

  Nan saved her from her embarrassment as she called out to Banks, then crossed the street to them.

  “You all set, dear?” she asked Norah, who nodded, rising to her feet a little too quickly. “Are you harassing our guest, Banks?”

  “No ma’am,” he said, tipping his hat. “Just being friendly.”

  Nan narrowed her eyes at her grandson so dramatically that Norah nearly laughed out loud. He held up his big hands, fingers splayed out innocently.