Bishop's Pawn

by Suzanne Halliday

  Good question, Roman thought. He wasn’t sure what caused her immediate withdrawal. So he started at the beginning.

  “On approach, I overhear her giving a load of grief to some jerk named Burt. Hear the idiot give her back the same load. It wasn’t friendly and-or pretty.”

  Jimmy nodded. “Burton Dulb. Daddy’s boy. Hates everyone.”

  “Tell me something,” Roman said, making no attempt to hide his confusion. “What did he mean when he said her land should have belonged to his dad and that her people were squatters?”

  “Aw, god. Really? Is that what he said?” Jimmy sighed heavily and muttered. “What a fucking dick.”

  “Do you know what he’s talking about?”

  “Yeah. It’s an old feud. The James family has farmed that land for generations. Back in the late sixties when things around here started going south, one of the daughters had a kid that she gave up. Fast-forward a couple of decades and one by one the family dies off until the last one standing is the daughter. She didn’t have other kids so when she passed on, the property went to the one she gave away. Enter Deb James. She turns up out of the blue with a bunch of legal documents supporting her claim. Not much to say after that. She was a recluse and, frankly, a fucknut from what people say. She was close to Sam the butcher and his wife but mostly she avoided Providence and kept to herself.”

  “And another local family thinks the land is theirs?”

  Jimmy let out a hooting laugh. “Jesus. Burt Dulb’s old man was doing old lady James. He figured his dick gave him rights to her land when she croaked. He’s a redneck son-of-a-bitch with a mean streak. Hell, everyone hates him. Drew Dulb is a prick.”

  Roman laughed. “Hold up. Drew Dulb?” he was barely keeping from falling over with laughter.

  “I know, right?” Jimmy snickered.

  “Dude,” Roman growled after a hearty chuckle. “This shit gets more complicated by the minute. Any other family secrets or mountain feuds I should know about? Like who’s the father of her kid? By the way,” he thought to ask. “Got an age range on said offspring?”

  “Lil said she wasn’t sure but if she had to guess, maybe four?”

  The math made him angrier than before. A teenage mom. A now dead and once reclusive mother. A land feud. Ugh. Liam was going to have a shit fit.

  “What did you say to spook her?”

  “Fuck if I know,” he muttered. “Introduced myself. That’s all.”

  “Gotta be more to it than that. Are you sure you didn’t say anything else?”

  Roman shrugged. “Just her name. I said her name and before I could blink she was gone.”

  The knot in his stomach firmed up and got damn painful. She probably needed the money. After all, that’s what they used to lure her out of the hills. But because of something he did, she chose to run rather than collect.

  Fuck. His conscience got all kinds of twitchy.

  “What are you gonna’ do?” Jimmy asked.

  “I’m going to take the back road to the split and hope I don’t drive off the side of a fucking mountain.”

  “Better do it quick then. Storm’s coming. The weather service threw up an alert. Looks like we’re gonna get snow slammed when that massive winter front moves in from the north.”

  Standing up, he tossed aside the wilting ice pack and grabbed Jimmy’s wrist to yank him from the chair. They walked out of the office and made for the stairs to his room while shooting the shit and having a good laugh about the night’s antics.

  Later, when he was alone, he considered calling Liam with an update but decided against it. The time difference was a factor plus he didn’t know much that was definite at the moment except what she looked like.

  Tomorrow would bring more answers. All he had to do was go on a blind hunt in the woods with no real guide and hope he wasn’t walking into any more surprises.

  The freezing cold shower did nothing to help her day get started. Neither did the break-of-dawn bucket of day old coffee she reheated and drank because there was no other choice.

  Trudging from the chicken coop to the goat pen, she took care of the early chores while keeping a wary eye on the thickening cloud cover. By the time she lugged and arranged enough logs to over-stack the porch pile, her arms were on fire, and her stomach was growling. And it was only nine in the morning.

  Stomping the dirt off her boots at the back door, Kelly rubbed ice-cold hands briskly on her jeans-covered thighs, hoping to generate some heat. Shaking off the old denim jacket big enough that she wore a bulky sweatshirt beneath, she was hanging it on a peg at the door when the phone rang. The jarring, unexpected sound made her jump.

  Nobody ever called, so it had to be Sam or Ginny. Hurrying to the phone on the wall, she yanked it against her ear and barked an unintentionally unfriendly hello.

  “Oh dear,” a concerned voice murmured. “Should I assume from your tone that last night didn’t go as planned?”

  It was Ginny. Kelly heaved a pained sigh. What would she do without the older woman’s calm gentleness? She counted on it more than she probably should.

  “I should have stayed home, that’s how much good going into town was.” Throwing a bit of steel into her voice, she immediately declared perhaps a bit too forcefully, “Men ruin everything.”

  Ginny snicker laughed. “Boys will be boys, I suppose. Does your morning grumble have anything to do with the brawl that broke out at Shorty’s? Sam called just now. Said the first thing on everyone’s mind this morning was the beer soaked fracas. Did you start a fight, honey?”

  “What? No! Not a single punch got thrown while I was there. What are you talking about?” Her mind broke into a fast sprint gathering every impression from last night searching for who or what might trigger a slugfest.

  A long, awkward pause ended when Ginny asked, “What aren’t you saying, dear?”

  Two things, separate and distinct from each other, stood out in her mind.

  “The Dulbs are losing their shit. That idiot Burt tried to school me. Apparently, and I quote him here, I’m messing with the wrong people.” Her snorting dismissal showed what she thought of the whole thing.

  “They’re threatening you now? What the blue blazes is wrong with Drew for egging Burt on? This is ridiculous.”

  Kelly couldn’t agree more. “I’m not disagreeing,” she scoffed.

  “And?” Ginny quietly inquired.

  “How do you know there’s an ‘and’?”

  “Because you can handle Burton Dulb in your sleep.”

  “Oh,” she murmured, chuckling softly. “You have a point. Yes, well. Um…”

  “Kelly?”

  “There was a stranger.”

  “What kind of stranger?”

  What kind? Sheesh. Kelly shivered remembering. The kind of stranger who was big and dangerous. The kind of stranger who talked and looked all citified. The kind of stranger who made her boots shake from how bad her legs quivered when he was near. The kind of stranger who…

  “He knew my name, Ginny. My full name,” she said with emphasis.

  Everything in her life shifted at that exact moment. She wasn’t sure what that meant, but she felt the fluctuation when it happened due to the abrupt change in Ginny’s tone and demeanor.

  In a no-nonsense voice, Ginny demanded, “What name exactly?”

  A warning bell clanged inside her head. That was an odd question, right?

  “Uh,” she stammered. “My name. You know. Kelly Anne. Kelly Anne James.”

  An anxiety bomb exploded in her stomach when Ginny’s unmistakable sigh of relief came through the phone line. Something wasn’t right. She was sure of it when her proxy granny spat out questions, strange questions, in short, clipped bursts.

  “Did he approach you?”

  “Did you see him before he spoke?”

  “What was he wearing?”

  Kelly blinked at each interrogative question. Sensing the importance to Ginny’s line of inquiry she answered straight away.


  “He appeared out of nowhere at the exact moment Burt slithered away. Called him a dick. And no, until he was in my face I wasn’t aware of him. He was wearing black. Lots of black. Why?”

  “Have a bad feeling about this,” Ginny muttered.

  “Look, I knew something wasn’t right. Told him from the start to go away. He’s the persistent type if you know what I mean.”

  “Go on.”

  “Well, he didn’t. Go away. And then he um,” she hesitated while her mind recreated the encounter. “Then he introduced himself. I told him to fuck off. That’s when he said my name.”

  “So a man you didn’t know fell from the sky, and you basically gave him the finger. Something he ignores. When you don’t play, he throws down with your full name. Have I got this right?”

  “Pretty much, yeah.”

  “And what did you do?”

  A blast of wind rattled the windows. She glanced out the frosted panes above the sink and despite being inside felt the arctic chill. The full body quiver moving from head to toe, however, had everything to do with the stranger and nothing at all to do with the weather.

  “I uh…ran. When go away didn’t work, I chose the low road.”

  “You ran as in mid-sentence booked for the door?”

  “Uh, yeah. Again. Pretty much.”

  “Oh Kelly,” Ginny groaned.

  “What? What did I do? Ginny, I mean shoot! A stranger walks up to me in Shorty’s. A stranger in Providence. Like that’s not weird enough. He got what they all get. Not interested and a direct back the eff off. I knew the second my name came out of his mouth I had to get out of there. So I did. End of story.”

  Kelly had a new understanding of the word unsettled. The way Ginny was reacting made the hair on her neck stand up. She knew her imagination was operating in overdrive when the only thing she could come up with was a witness protection arrangement because she was sure of one thing. Ginny knew something that Kelly didn’t. And whatever that thing was, well, it was mighty important.

  “Look. I’ve got a dozen things to do before the weather turns and I’m sure you didn’t call to chat about strangers. Is Matty okay? Are you bringing him home?”

  “Actually dear,” Ginny murmured. Kelly could hear the concern in her voice but now was not the time for a heart-to-heart. Life in the woods didn’t wait while folks worked through their issues. “We thought keeping him here was best. The storm is going to slam hard. Sam only went into town this morning so people could get their supplies ready. They say we might be on our own for days.”

  “I know. Dumb luck, huh? Like we need a foot of snow. Send it to California.”

  “Is that okay with you? One less thing to worry about for you, and you know Matty and Sam. They’ll turn it into a fireplace campout.”

  As much as she needed Matty close by for her own selfish, fearful reasons, Ginny was right. He’d be better off with them. They had a fancy generator and could easily ride out a storm. Unlike her. The stack of logs she hauled earlier made the argument for her. If the storm got really bad, it’d be a far sight easier and safer to have just herself to worry about.

  “Can I talk to him?”

  “I hope that’s a yes to him staying.”

  “Of course it is. We love you guys. You’re family—you and Sam. Matty likes being spoiled, so thanks. But I want to talk to him.”

  “Oh, of course, dear! Of course. He’s anxious to tell you about last night. He and Sam made a Lego castle. He’s obsessed with building a castle for Kiki. But he’s out back with Sam. They’re marching along the back fence in the yard as we speak,” she chuckled. “That’s why I called now. A little adult talk minus the three-year-old.”

  “Almost four,” she chided softly. “Whatever ya’ do, don’t call him a three-year-old!”

  They laughed together and her heart filled with joy. She and Matty weren’t the isolated loners they started life as. If nothing else, they had Sam and Ginny.

  Arrangements made for an early evening call, they hung up, and she instantly switched to high gear. Her eyes ticked methodically around the kitchen and living room. Everything was in place to ride out a heavy snowfall. There were even two sturdy shovels propped right next to the door for her to dig a path to the animals. It really was a help to have Matty safely cared for. One less thing to worry about.

  A quickly thrown together overstuffed bologna sandwich went down smooth with a half glass of ice cold milk. She had just enough time to trudge along the crooked path up behind the house to a spot where she was sure to find a small animal wandering her woods. A quick hunt she could use to restock the meat supply would keep her busy if the storm hung on.

  Stuffed once again into the denim jacket, she wound a scarf around her neck, crammed a pair of heavy gloves into a pocket, slid a paper sack with an oatcake and some raisins inside the jacket, and headed out. Stopping at the Blue Bandit, she pulled open the passenger door and took a rifle off the gun rack. Spying a red wool cap on the seat, she pulled it on and impatiently shoved stray hair under the rim. She already had her hunting knife strapped on. The backpack stuffed behind the cab’s bench seat had everything else she’d need.

  Setting off, she made the arduous hike in fast time. With any luck, she’d bag something small and be home before the storm hit.

  Three hours later she had some quail strung together. What started as a light freezing drizzle turned to a steady snow shower by the time she was ready to head out. Impatient and tired as can be, she hurried when she should’ve been cautious. A foolish move but she knew every tree and rock in the woods and counted on that knowledge to see her through.

  Mother Nature, however, either had on her bitch panties or was having a bit of a giggle at her expense. That’s the way she rationalized the Olympic effort it took to stay on her feet. The deepening snow covered dangerous ice patches, and she found herself with flailing arms and wobbly legs as she skated along unable to gain any traction. A bumpy ice covered mound was her undoing.

  With gravity and shitty luck in control, she launched off the mound, tumbling awkwardly to the other side only to skate down the steep hill on her butt. She tried to dig in and stop her fall, but the layer of hard ice beneath the white blanket made that impossible.

  Once or twice she slowed down and was able to make the icy descent more controlled.

  At a dip wide enough to stop her downward roll, Kelly caught her breath. Shaking her head vigorously to get rid of the snow clinging to her cap, she didn’t pause for long. Every minute that went by made the conditions worse. Getting her bumped and probably bruised ass safely home was priority one.

  Climbing out of the ditch wasn’t easy, but somehow she managed to slide, roll to her knees and then get up by clinging to a tree. Picking her way with slow, careful steps she stayed upright, propelling from tree to tree all the way down the last part of the rolling hill to a treacherous spot just a few hundred yards from the bend behind the house.

  Tossing her backpack and the chain holding the birds over an embankment onto the snow-covered dirt road, she was making good progress inching her way around the embankment when she lost her footing.

  Figuring it was easier to go with the fall and hope she could roll out of it, the last thing Kelly expected was the sound of brakes locking up and the unexpected shine of headlights glowing through the heavy snowfall.

  A dull thud hit her elbow and hip. The energy from this contact sent her flying over the road into a mound of snow-laden bushes and ground cover.

  Dull pain shot through her when she tried to move. On her back, she looked up at the gray sky and waterfall of snow. Flakes clung to her eyelashes and cheeks.

  In this grey-white tableau, a face appeared, looming over her. A dark scowl contradicted the concern she found in the eyes boring into hers.

  “Are you all right?”

  The voice barking in her face sounded familiar but laying on her back in a snow pile was a more immediate concern.

  A hand touched her shoulder and s
lid down the arm of her jacket until instant reflex made her kick out and whomp her foot on his calf.

  “Get your hands off me,” she growled. He didn’t, so she angrily swatted at his insistent fingers as they touched her everywhere. Determined to put up a fight she got heated and struggled twice as hard to haul herself off the ground.

  Standing up on unsteady feet, she swiped snow from her face and glared at the do-gooding trespasser. Prepared to rip him a new one, her words died when she realized why the voice sounded familiar.

  No.

  Oh god, no.

  Roman Bishop.

  Mumbling dark oaths as he drove at a snail’s pace through the thick snowfall, Roman questioned his sanity for doing this when the weather reports preached caution. He just figured they always blew stuff up for ratings.

  “Why does this have to be the one time the weather guys are right?”

  The wipers arced back and forth at intervals, pushing snow around the windshield. He was pretty much guessing where the road was from the trees lining each side. Harrowing didn’t come close to describing the situation in which he found himself.

  Unsettled by what he’d learned so far, he abruptly abandoned his original go slow and earn her trust plan. Fuck that. In his mind, things were more critical than he or Liam imagined. Discovering she lived alone, and with a kid to take care of, changed everything. The land feud and asshole threats simply topped off this recipe for problems.

  One thing he was sure of though was that she had no idea that for all intents and purposes she was going to end up with quite a pile of money someday. Knowing that day loomed sooner than later, he felt the push to get this thing done before Adam Ward died. Not for her so much, but for Liam.

  Peering intently through the snowy windshield, he kept a close eye out for the road bend leading to the James farm. A gust of icy wind slammed his truck. Gripping the wheel tighter, he squinted at the roadway when movement on his right caught Roman’s attention. All of a sudden a boulder of snow hurtled toward a ledge next to the road.

  Standing on the brakes, he heard the anti-lock systems engage as the vehicle came to a lurching, sliding stop. The chunk of snow hit the fender and bounced across the road. Rolling his window down, he peered through the curtain of white and froze.