Andy clapped her hands. "Okay! When can we—"
"Andy!"
Cal looked up to see the blond man coming down the steps of the porch.
"Can't leave you alone for five minutes without you wandering off. Get back in the house and help Christa put your stuff up like your dad said."
"I was just talking to Cal," Andy said defiantly.
"Well just stop," Nolan said. "Go on or I'll back out on the candy bar deal we had."
"That's not fair," Andy complained.
"Tough," Nolan said. "Go!'
Andy went, deliberately dragging her feet in the gravel. Cal started to go back in the trailer when the man called Nolan stopped him. "Hold on a second. I want to talk to you."
"I don't want to talk to you," Cal said. "I don't like what you said to my mother."
"And I don't like kids pointing shotguns at me," came the reply. "I've had my share of bad experiences in that particular—" There was more coming, but he suddenly broke off and stooped to look at something in the drive.
"Goddammit. That better not be from my car."
Cal couldn't help himself. "What?"
"Oil, or whatever the hell that is."
"It's a good-looking car," Cal said. "V-8 engine?"
"Yeah. And clean as a whistle before this happy little martyr-making excursion."
"How much is it worth?" Cal asked.
Nolan straightened and looked at him again. "About three of you and six of your mother. Did she have the landline in the house disconnected?"
"No," Cal said. "The lines were cut. Ours were cut, too. Twice. We had it fixed and they cut 'em again."
Nolan's raised eyebrows were two shades darker than his hair. "Who is they?"
Cal shrugged. "We don't know. Probably the same people who stole the horses. They got Mom's Mustang, too. They smashed a hole in the radiator."
The eyebrows were meeting now, making Nolan's nose look longer than it was. "A hole? What about the old man's car? Didn't he have a car?"
Cal gestured toward the small garage on the south side of the house. "The Lincoln's in there. Got a ruptured gas tank. It's been there almost a year."
The way the man was looking at him told Cal that he was deciding whether or not to believe him. "Come on," Cal said. "I'll show you."
"Wait a minute," Nolan said. "Was the radiator punched before or after the phone lines were cut?"
"What difference does that make?" Cal said. "They did it three days after Darwin's funeral. Me and Mom have been stranded since then. And then last night they came and—"
"Why didn't you walk to town?" Nolan interrupted.
Cal's mouth tightened. "Because we were afraid of what would happen if we left. We've done all right, mister. We have a garden and two—well, one goat now. Mom was anxious for Mr. Kimmler to get here so he could help her straighten things out. She called Ed Kisner, and then she called the sheriff, but he—"
"You mean you've been eating radishes and drinking goat's milk for the last ten days? What the hell kind of mother have you got, kid?"
Cal shook a trickle of perspiration from his temple and stepped toward the blond man. "We didn't have any choice. It isn't her fault. They came again last night and tried to run her down in the drive. We surprised them with the guns I got from the house, but while we were out here they were in our trailer killing our other goat and slopping blood everywhere. I can show you that too if you want to see it, but if you say one more word about my mother I'll break your ugly face."
The man's mouth curved. "Relax, kid. It's a good story, but I'm still curious about the motives here."
Suddenly Cal understood. It was the money after all. They didn't trust his mother because of the money Darwin had left them. "If you're worried about the twenty thousand Darwin left my mother, most of it is intended for me. He wanted her to leave here and get me started in a college somewhere."
"I'm sure," Nolan responded. "By the time you graduate from high school that money will be long gone, kid."
It was Cal's turn to smile. "I graduated last year, mister. And don't ask, because you don't want to know my I.Q. I can get a scholarship anywhere I want. But we've got to get out of here first."
The man was staring at him. "You're shitting me. An honest-to-God child genius?"
Cal's spine stiffened. "I'm not a child. I'm—"
"Yeah, yeah, you're thirteen. I heard you the first time. Dang. A genius."
"Don't call me that. And I didn't make anything up so it's not a story. I don't care if you believe me anyway. Mom will tell Mr. Kimmler what's been going on and he'll believe her. We haven't done anything wrong."
"Maybe you haven't," Nolan said. He picked up the end of his T-shirt and wiped his face with it. "But I'm reserving judgment on your dear old Mom."
"She's a lot younger than you are," Cal said.
Nolan snorted. "I doubt it."
"Wanna bet?"
"Yeah, I'll bet. What's the deal?"
"A radiator for the Mustang."
"Christ," Nolan said. "You don't mess around, do you? No deal, kid. I'm not exactly a rich man. And besides that, I didn't get a close enough look at her."
"Bull. You got right in her face. You wanna bet or not?"
"Being in her face and looking at her is two different things. I didn't look look."
"Chicken. You must be worried now," Cal said.
The man laughed. "You are a smart little bastard. But like I said, I'm not a rich man."
"You're probably richer than us. Mom is almost broke. We have to wait until the C.D. matures in August before we can touch the money. She was planning on getting the car fixed then, but we're both ready to get out of here. They can mail us the money."
The man was nodding. "Uh-huh. I see. And just where were you planning on going?"
"We're not sure," Cal said. "It depends on where I decide to go to college."
"You haven't decided yet?"
"No. I'd like to go some place Mom can get a job, Los Angeles, maybe."
"What does your mom do when she isn't stealing horses? Rob banks?"
"You're a real jerk, you know that? She used to be a commercial artist."
"And I used to be a hell of a ballplayer. In other words, used to be doesn’t count, kid. If you're so smart, why don't you want to go to Harvard or Yale and be one of the big boys?"
Cal smirked. "When I decide what I want to do, I'll do it. Until then, Mom's doing the best she can for both of us."
The man shook his head and muttered something under his breath about mothers. Cal shook the beaded sweat from his face again. "What?"
"Nothing. Damn, that sun's hot. Where is this Mustang anyway? What year is it?"
"It's a 'sixty-eight. We pushed it into the barn." Cal watched the man's eyes light up in interest.
"No way does she have a ‘sixty-eight. Let's go have a look. Hardtop?"
"Yeah. Hey, we never settled the bet."
"We don't have to. The only place you're likely to find a radiator will be in a salvage yard somewhere; otherwise, it's going to cost more than I can handle. But just out of curiosity, how old is she?"
"You first," Cal said.
"Jesus, kid. All right. I'm thirty-five."
Cal grinned at him. "Mom'll be thirty-three the first of August.
"I thought you said she was a lot younger."
"Come on," Cal said in disgust. "I should've known you were a sore loser from the way you backed out on the candy bar deal with the little girl."
The man laughed again and held up his bandaged hands. "I haven't backed out yet. I just used it to get her back in the…” He paused after glancing at the house. "Now who in the hell was that?"
Cal looked. "Who?"
"At the kitchen window. She was there just a second ago. Long brown hair."
"Probably one of the girls, "Cal said.
"They're not that tall. Unless Christa was standing on a chair or something." He lifted one broad shoulder and continued on toward the barn.
"You might as well start over again and tell me everything. And be on your toes, Boy Wonder, because I'm going to look for inconsistencies in your story."
"Ass," Cal muttered. But he felt better. He had the feeling this guy could handle whatever came his way.
He also had the feeling they would need him.
CHAPTER 5
Christa finished tidying Andy's drawers and turned to examine further the room they had been given. The wallpaper had roses on it that she thought must have been a bright pink at one time. It was peeling in several places and was completely ripped away in one spot beside the bed. The bed itself was bigger than any she had ever slept in, but of course she would be sharing this one with Andy. She didn't mind. They had a whole house to play in, with stairs and everything. All the rooms smelled kind of musty, and most of the furniture looked really old, but Daddy said it was their house now. All of it.
"Come on, Andy," she said. "Let's go exploring."
Andy looked up from her sack of toys. "I can't find Georgie. Is he in your sack?"
"I've already put my stuff up. Georgie wasn't there. You should've looked for him before you picked that sack."
Andy's lower lip stuck out. "I did look."
"Don't start crying," Christa warned. "It's your own fault. Do you wanna come exploring with me or not?"
Andy didn't. She wanted to sit there and cry about her silly stuffed turtle.
"Well I'm going," Christa said. At the door she paused and put her hand on the white porcelain knob. She didn't really want to go by herself. Not when the house felt so strange to her.
"Andy…”
Still sniffing, Andy turned away from her sack and walked to the door. "Maybe Uncle Nolan will find Georgie when he goes back home."
"This is home now," Christa told her. She led the way into the hall and paused in the doorway to the bedroom across from theirs. It was bigger, but the bed was the same size and the furniture was the same heavy dark brown as the furniture in their room. Grown-up furniture. Christa had to give Andy the bottom drawers in the chest across the hall; she could barely reach the top ones herself. The one piece of furniture that differed from their room was a big heavy-looking cabinet with a glass door. She pointed to it. "That's for Daddy's guns. This is his room."
"I know," Andy said. "That's his suitcase."
"It used to be Grandpa's room," Christa added.
"Does it smell funny to you?" Andy asked.
"A little. I think maybe Grandpa died in here."
Christa backed out of the room and Andy followed close behind.
There were two other doors in the hall; one hid a big closet with lots of towels, sheets, and blankets inside, and the other opened into the bathroom. After inspecting the height of the rust-stained sink and deciding that Andy would need a stool to brush her teeth, Christa turned to the ancient-looking bathtub.
"Weird," she said. "Its feet look like lion's paws. I guess the thing sticking out of the wall is the shower."
"Guess so," Andy said seriously, though she wasn't big enough to take showers yet.
Christa turned to leave then she paused as the skin on her arms prickled. "Did you feel that?" she murmured.
"What?" said Andy.
Christa stood poised, waiting for the sensation again. "It got real cold for a second. By the bathtub."
Andy looked at her sister. "Your arms are goosey."
"Weird," Christa repeated. "Come on. Let's go find Uncle Nolan's room. He'll probably sleep upstairs."
"All by himself?" Andy said. "Won't he be scared?"
“He doesn't get scared, Andy. He's a grownup."
They left the hall and stood at the foot of the stairs. Beyond them was the living room with its scuffed wood floor, sooty stone fireplace and un-matching furniture. Next was the dining room with the widest, longest table Christa had ever seen. Then there was the big kitchen with the empty cabinets, warped floors, and dusty, unplugged appliances.
"How come everything here looks so old?" Andy asked. She was eyeing the torn and faded wallpaper, not roses but little white flowers here in the dim hall.
"Because it is," Christa answered. Even the brown braided rug beneath their feet was so faded it seemed almost gray. "See the lines, Andy?" She pointed. "We can use those as a road for Barbie's car. Like a racetrack."
"Yeah," Andy said with interest. Then she lifted her head. "Are we going upstairs?"
"Where's Uncle Nolan?" Christa replied.
"Talking to Cal."
Christa glanced toward the living room. "He's cute. I like boys with blond hair."
"Like Uncle Nolan," Andy said. "Christa, are we going up there?"
Christa looked up. There was no rail, only wooden steps and the walls to hang on to. The stairs looked steep. She counted twelve steps. At the top she could see nothing, but she knew what was up there. Uncle Nolan's room was up there. And something else was up there too. Christa suddenly changed her mind about exploring the upstairs part of the house. It might not be safe. It would be even hotter and stuffier up there and Andy might fall and get hurt on the steps…and whatever was up there might get them
She turned to her sister. "Let's go find Uncle Nolan instead."
Andy looked relieved. "Okay. I want a sandwich first, Christa, I'm hungry. I'm thirsty too. It's too hot in there."
Christa pushed her away from the stairs. "It's hot because there's no air-conditioner. And we don't have anything to fix a sandwich with. We'll eat when Daddy gets back."
"Oh yeah. I forgot." Andy followed her through the living room then paused. "What’s that? I was going to ask you before but we—"
"What?" Christa turned. "Oh. That's a piano. See, that thing on the front lifts up and you play the keys underneath. We had one in music class at school."
"Can we play with it?" Andy asked.
"Daddy said not to touch anything until he got back from the store."
"I just wanna look at it. Can't we just look?"
"Okay." Christa heaved an exaggerated sigh and went to lift the lid on the piano. The keys beneath were yellow with age. She plunked one and smiled. Andy giggled and moved to stand beside her. "Play it."
"I don't know how to play it," Christa said.
"I do," said a voice behind them.
Christa couldn't stop the shriek that came out of her throat. Andy instinctively clutched her arm.
"Did I scare you?" Nolan said with a laugh. "Here, move over and let me get that bench out. Damn, it's hot in here. We need to open some windows and find a fan."
He pulled the bench from beneath the keyboard and sat down. "I used to have an old upright like this. Not as old as this one, though. It probably hasn't been tuned in years. Remember the one we saw in Dodge City?"
"No," Andy said.
"Can you really play?" Christa asked.
"With these bandages, probably not. Let's see."
It sounded like playing to Christa, and Andy squealed in delight as a tune rolled out from beneath his fingers.
Then he stopped. "Shit. Can't play these mitts. How about a little Jerry Lee Lewis?"
He pounded out part of another song and then stopped again. "Worse than I thought. And my guess is that there aren't many piano tuners in this part of the world. Not that it would help, as ancient as this thing is. Your dad could probably peddle it as an antique. Did you girls get all your stuff put up?"
"Yes," Andy said. "Play some more."
"Later, maybe. I'm going out to look at your grandpa's car. Why don't you watch some TV until your dad gets back?"
"There's no television," Christa informed him. "We looked when we first came in."
"No television? Damn. That means no baseball. Why have that big satellite dish in the back if you're not going to have a television?"
"Maybe it belongs to Cal and his mom," Christa said. "Do you think they'll let us watch?"
"Yeah, probably—if they stay. The way things sound, someone doesn't want them to."
"Who?" Andy asked.
"Can't we come with you?" Andy said immediately. "It's scary in here, Uncle Nolan."
He smiled. "That's only because you're not used to it yet. A week from now you'll know every inch of the place. It looks like a good house to play hide-and-seek in. Why don't you play that?"
"We don't want to," Andy said. "We want to come with you."
"I said no. Don't piss me off, Andy. Besides, the garage is probably full of spiders and bugs and you wouldn't like that any better."
Andy opened her mouth, but he was already moving toward the door. Christa followed and stood watching at the screen as he crossed the twenty yards to the detached garage. The lanky Cal trotted across the drive to join him.
"I hope a spider bites him," Andy said. She hopped onto the piano bench and pecked at a few keys. "On the ears and even on his nose. Don't you, Christa?"
"No," Christa said. "He can't help it if he's mean sometimes. He's not used to us, remember?"
Andy ignored her. "I want to play and sing like him. He can do lots of things, can't he?"
"So can Daddy," Christa said.
Andy suddenly turned away from the piano. "Christa, do you ever miss Mommy?"
Christa glanced at her. "Sometimes." She moved to the nearest windows and pushed aside the heavy brown drapes. She could just reach the first latch.
"I miss her a lot," Andy said. "I wish she was here right now. I don't like it here, Christa. Everything's old and dirty and smells funny. I want to go back home and live with Mommy again."
"Andy…” Christa pushed open the window and turned to see her sister's lip sticking out again. "Don't cry. I told you a hundred times about Heaven and how Mommy can't live with us anymore. Daddy says we have to live here now. We can't go home."
Andy was going to cry anyway. Fat tears rolled down her cheeks and a bubble appeared at her nose.
"Christa, something is here. Something scary."
"No," Christa said. "It's just a scary place, Andy. We'll get used to it, just like Uncle Nolan said."
Borderland Page 5