“It’s nearly a mile out to the highway and I guarantee you my cows are too lazy to walk that far.” It occurred to him that this was the most ridiculous argument he’d ever been involved in. “That was only an example of why it’s important to be able to keep in touch.” She clammed up, obviously preparing more arguments. He couldn’t wait to hear what they were.
“I see,” he responded. “You may be right and— Aaagh!” He scooted past her and made for the hose attached to a water pipe at the front of the house.
“What are you doing?” She followed him down the steps.
Caleb picked up the hose, turned the faucet on full-blast and aimed it across the yard. “I’m trying to keep a worthless tomcat away from my barn cats. The mama has had two litters since I’ve been here.”
“You mean she hasn’t been spayed?”
“No. Apparently, along with being a lousy cattleman, I’m a lousy cat owner.”
“Yes, you are. That’s completely irresponsible. The feral cat population in this county is already out of control. If she’s had two litters and each of them is responsible for a litter, that could end up being hundreds more cats. Why haven’t you taken care of this?”
His lips tightened and his eyebrows pulled together in a ferocious frown. The argument became too personal. “Don Parkey took the kittens to his clinic, spayed and neutered them, brought two back to me and put the rest up for adoption, but he couldn’t catch the mother because, first of all, she is feral, and second, she and the other two know there’s a pack of coyotes roaming the area, so they all pretty much stay up in the rafters. And, no, I don’t know how the tomcat has stayed alive to keep coming to pay her conjugal visits.” He stopped and pointed to his bad leg. “And, obviously, I can’t catch her, either.”
In a flash Laney’s expression went from annoyance to embarrassment. “Oh, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
When he saw pity drench her eyes, he looked away. That was what he hated—someone feeling sorry for him. And worse, someone wanting to do things for him that he used to be able to do without a second thought.
Laney cleared her throat. “I could catch her for you and take her in to Don’s clinic. In fact, I could do it right now. Do you have some kind of cage?”
“No.”
“Well, I think my dad has one. I’ll get it from him and catch her for you.”
“No.” This time he gave her a look that invited no argument.
She argued anyway. “Now you’re just being stubborn.”
“Yeah, I’m good at that. I’ll figure out some way to catch her myself.”
“You’re being ridiculous and stubborn.”
He knew that, but it was better to be stubborn and ridiculous than to have her feel sorry for him.
Laney turned suddenly. “I’m going home. Good night.”
“I’ll drive you.”
“I’d rather walk.”
“It’s getting dark, and you don’t want to run into those coyotes,” he answered. “I’ll drive you.”
“I haven’t seen any coyotes.” Her tone was so snippy it could have cut off his nose if he’d been standing closer.
“Maybe not, but I’ll bet you’ve heard them.”
She gave him a look that could have curdled milk. Good. Let her be mad at him. It was better than being the object of her pity. She walked to his truck and tugged the door open, not waiting for him to do the gentlemanly thing—which he did actually know how to do.
Caleb climbed behind the wheel and started the engine before glancing over at her. In spite of those crazy boots, the expanse of bare leg and the revealing tank top, she sat as primly as if she was dressed in a neck-to-heels wool dress from the 1800s. Her chin was in the air and her eyes bore holes through his windshield.
He put the truck in gear and started down the drive before it occurred to him to ask, “Where’s Sam? Not home alone?”
She didn’t even spare him a glance. “Of course not. He’s spending the night at my brother Ethan’s. He and his sons brought a bike over for Sam and then took him home with them.” She clapped her mouth shut and gave him a sideways glance. Did she think she’d said too much?
Her brother. The guy she’d been so cozy with was her brother. Caleb decided he wasn’t even going to think about the reason he felt a little kick of happiness.
A flash of movement beside the road had him leaning forward and peering into the gathering darkness.
“What is it?” Laney asked. “The friendly neighborhood coyotes?”
“Maybe,” he answered. “And don’t think they’re not out there. They are. Probably be better if you didn’t walk across the pasture at night.”
“Probably be better if your cows stayed out of my yard,” she answered sweetly.
Caleb twisted his mouth to the side. She always had a smart answer. He thought it funny that she seemed to be working so hard to control every aspect of her life but her son and his cows threw the plan to the winds.
As she and her son had done to him, he thought, sobering. But he wouldn’t think about that right now. He wrestled his thoughts back to what they’d been discussing.
“The coyotes are a real threat, but there’s something else out there. I heard it and when I went out into the yard, I saw...an animal, but couldn’t tell what it was.” He didn’t mention the flashback he’d had, thinking he was back in a war zone, holding a stick the way he held a rifle, looking for a phantom enemy.
“What do you think it was?”
“I don’t know. The sound it made wasn’t one I’d heard before.” He glanced over. In the dim radiance of the dashboard lights, he saw her chew her bottom lip. “Probably a bobcat,” he concluded, though he honestly didn’t know.
“I’ll call the sheriff’s office,” she said solemnly. “Ask if there have been any reports of any predators besides coyotes.”
“Be a good idea.”
He had her back at her place within minutes. When he pulled into her drive, the headlights swept over the damage his cattle had caused to her property.
“The next time I’m in town for supplies, I’ll get some sod, then come over here and fix this,” he said. “What kind of flowers did my cattle trample?”
She turned in the seat and swept him with a look. “Petunias. Purple ones. But you can only repair the damage to my yard if you’ll let me catch your cat and take her in to Don’s clinic.”
“Now who’s being stubborn?”
She tilted her head and gave him an angelic smile. “It takes two.”
He wanted to laugh, but that meant he’d be stepping over a boundary he’d set for himself. “All right. You can catch the cat.”
“Good. Don’t feed her tomorrow. And I want your phone number.” She took her cell phone out of her pocket and waited expectantly to punch it into the memory.
Still reluctant, he gave it to her.
“I’m going to give you mine,” she said.
“I don’t have my cell phone.”
“Then memorize it,” she said. Then she rattled off the number and made him repeat it back to her. He deliberately transposed a couple of numbers just so he could see her exasperation grow, but she patiently repeated it until he had it right.
When at last she was satisfied, she opened the door and climbed out of the truck.
“I’ll come take care of that cat tomorrow,” she said in a tone that invited no argument. “I have to go into town, anyway, to pick up Sam, so I’ll get the trap from my dad and bring it over.”
“Okay.”
The glow of the cab’s dome light allowed him to see the suspicious look on her face—as if she was expecting more argument—but he was ready to give it a rest. His leg was starting to throb and he knew he had to get home and elevate it or pay the consequences with a night of muscle spasms a
nd leg cramps.
“Well, then, good night.” Laney closed the door.
He hit the button to lower the window. “I’ll wait until you get safely inside.”
Laney nodded. He watched as she reached the door and opened it, and then drove home thinking that he would see her again tomorrow. He didn’t mind that as much as he should.
* * *
FROM HER DOORWAY, Laney watched Caleb drive away. She wasn’t sure that they’d made much progress, but she knew she felt energized and jumpy and it would take her a while to get to sleep tonight.
Before she went inside and closed the door, she stood for a few minutes looking into the darkness, trying to see if there was anything lurking out there, anything that might be a threat to Sam or to her.
* * *
LANEY RECONSIDERED HER plan to take Sam along on the cat-catching expedition. He would be too curious and too anxious to “help” and would probably only get in the way or, worse, put himself in danger.
She called Jenny, who was home with the boys today, and told her what was going on. She then swung by her mom and dad’s house for the small-animal trap her dad used to catch pack rats and gophers before hauling them far out into the desert.
“Sorry, Laney,” Frank said when she reached the house. “I loaned that out to someone a few months ago and never got it back. Can’t remember who borrowed it.”
She looked at him with fond exasperation. “Dad, this happens all the time. You need to write things down.”
He was the most accommodating and easygoing man she’d ever known. He’d managed a local bank, but when Vivian had retired, he had, too, so they’d have more time to spend together. He would do anything for anyone and people often took advantage of him. He didn’t mind at all, though, somehow convincing himself that people always had the best intentions. Ethan was the same way. Laney had realized years ago that knowing these two men had left her woefully unprepared for a self-centered jerk like James Carson.
Frank grinned at her. “I enjoy the mystery and when something is returned, it’s like getting a surprise gift and it gives me a chance to visit with the person who returned it.”
Laney shook her head, gave him a kiss on the cheek and started to head for the Jeep, but turned back.
“Dad, Ethan tells me Mom bought a banana tree.”
Frank’s smile fell. “Yes. Apparently her reputation hasn’t reached the internet.”
“Is it dead yet?”
He shook his head, looking puzzled. “Hasn’t even started turning brown and the bananas on it are actually growing. Did you know they grow sticking up in the air? Kinda cute, but I guess it’s only a matter of time before it starts to droop and die.”
Laney nodded in sad agreement, gave him another kiss and headed home. She should have called first to see if he had the trap. Don Parkey probably had one she could borrow, but then she remembered a report one of her students had given about trapping a stray cat in an ordinary cat carrier and thought she could make it work. She often assigned her students research papers and speeches on a variety of topics, so she’d learned random information on a host of topics over the years.
Remembering she needed groceries, she stopped at Sweetsilver’s one and only supermarket. She was wheeling her cart through the produce section wondering how she could disguise fresh vegetables so her son would eat them, when she heard someone call her name.
Glancing around, she saw Monette Berkley bearing down on her. Stifling a groan, she attempted a friendly smile that she knew probably fell short.
“Did you find your son?” Monette demanded as her shopping cart came to a stop inches from Laney’s.
Laney frowned. Any conversation with Monette always put her on the defensive, and one that started out this way would probably go downhill quickly.
“You mean the other day when I saw you on the lane by my place? Yes, he was at the neighbor’s, exactly as I thought. What were you doing out there, anyway?” Good, she thought, put Monette on the defensive for once.
Monette opened her mouth and closed it a couple of times. Color washed into her face, which Laney thought actually improved her drab appearance. “I...I was taking a drive in the country, and...happened to be there.”
“You won’t see much countryside on Bartlett Road. It’s a dead end.”
Monette sniffed. “I found that out.” Then she quickly asked, “So, how are you?” Monette was obviously uncomfortable being on the defensive. Laney knew she much preferred putting other people in that position.
Monette’s close-set brown eyes surveyed Laney from head to toe. Her expression dripped with disapproval, which Laney found ironic since Monette was dressed in a baggy brown suit with a drooping hem and was wearing a pair of loafers that had long since seen better days. She had thick, black hair that would have been beautiful with a decent cut, but she wore it scraped back from her face in a loose bun, or in a severe ponytail held in place by a clip that Laney thought resembled a Ninja weapon. Monette would have been attractive if she took a little time for herself, but she was too busy sticking her nose into other people’s business and trying to tell them how to handle it.
“Are you fighting fires this summer?” she asked, her eyes darting around. “And where’s your little boy, Sean, this time?”
“His name’s Sam. And he’s with his cousins,” Laney explained and then could have kicked herself for doing so. The less Monette knew about her life the better. Monette had been their neighbor in the small apartment complex in town, so she already knew too much about Laney’s life. To make matters worse, she was a social worker with the state and felt that gave her license to interfere.
“You need to give up that firefighting job. You could get hurt.” Monette clapped her hands on her skinny hips and stuck out her chin.
Laney gritted her teeth, trying to hang on to the good manners she’d been taught. Monette never seemed to be able to talk about any other subject with her than her firefighting job.
“I’m afraid I don’t have time to chat right now. Have a good day, Monette.” Whipping around, Laney hurried away, grabbing the things she needed, swooping through the checkout and rushing from the store. As she drove home, she took a deep breath and shoved thoughts of her former neighbor from her mind.
* * *
MONETTE WATCHED LANEY hurry away, hoping that she was doing a better job of watching her little boy than she had when they’d been neighbors. She didn’t like to think about the dangers that child could be subjected to if his mother didn’t look after him. During their time as neighbors, she had given advice and information freely, but Laney hadn’t been interested in hearing any of it.
Pushing her cart toward the produce aisle, Monette thought about all the times she’d seen little Sean put at risk—going down the stairs without his mother holding his hand or carrying him, riding his three-wheeled toy on the landing outside their apartment. Sean was lucky to be alive.
In fact, if it hadn’t been for her keeping an eye on him and reminding his mother to watch him more closely, he might not be alive at all. She nodded to herself, glad that she’d been there to secure the little boy’s safety. She didn’t know who would watch out for him now that his mother had moved with him out of town.
Monette congratulated herself for going out there to take a look around, but hadn’t been able to see much from the road. State and department rules said she couldn’t investigate or file a report without due cause, so she’d had to be careful when checking on little Sean’s welfare.
Monette stopped, frowning as she slipped a head of lettuce into a plastic bag, then moved aside as a harried mother with three kids crowded past.
Not Sean, she thought as she placed more items in her cart. Where had that come from? She knew his name was Sam. Of course she knew that. Alarm zippered up her spine. She’d better check all her notes on th
is case to make sure everything was in order, and certainly, she had better check the file she was keeping and make sure she had his name correct. If it became necessary for him to be removed from his mother’s care, she wanted to be sure she had everything in perfect order. No child would ever be put at risk because of sloppy paperwork. Not on her watch.
Monette headed toward the checkout at the front of the store then stopped short, staring into her shopping cart. There were three plastic clamshell packages of strawberries in her basket. She had picked up lettuce, tomatoes and apples, not strawberries. Her heart fluttered in her throat. She never ate strawberries. They made her deathly ill.
Glancing around, she saw the woman who’d passed her a minute ago. No doubt it was those kids, Monette thought, picking up the strawberries and returning them to the produce section, then hurriedly scrubbing her hands on the front of her skirt. They thought they were being cute or funny. In their young minds it was a harmless prank, and it probably was, but why didn’t people watch their children?
Critically, she eyed the woman and tried to remember if she’d ever written a report on her. No, she didn’t look familiar. Her kids might be naughty, but they seemed well cared for. Monette breathed a deep sigh. No cause for alarm. She didn’t have to be concerned about these children. It was the Sean Reynoldses of the world she needed to keep an eye on.
She gave a quick shake of her head as she started once more for the checkout lane. No, not Sean. Sam. Sam Reynolds. That was his name.
CHAPTER FIVE
IN SPITE OF the heat, Laney dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt in case things got too up close and personal with the cat. She’d found the carrier she’d saved from the time when she’d had a cat of her own—and then had had to give it away because of James’s allergies.
“I should’ve kept Peterkin and dumped James right then,” she muttered as she loaded all the supplies into her Jeep.
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