Cal looked at the page and counted. "Only three. And one boy. I wonder what happened to him?"
Nolan reached over and turned the page. "I wondered the same thing—why there's no Denke around today, I mean. There he is, under his parents' names in the death record."
"Looks like a kid added his name on," Cal observed. "The handwriting isn't the same as the other entries."
"Might not have been a kid," Nolan said. "My grandfather's handwriting looked like a four-year-old's scrawl. But look how young the Denke kid died. He was only fifteen or so. Pretty ironic that all the adopted kids survived and the Denke line died."
Cal grinned. "Maybe one of 'em knocked him off so they could have the land."
"It was probably the ancestor of that old fart at the diner," Nolan said with a chuckle. "But no, I imagine it was more likely an accident, or sickness. Life expectancy wasn't very long back then."
"Have you showed this to Vic?" Cal asked.
"Not yet. I asked him about the place a couple days ago, though. Just out of curiosity. All he knew was that the land had been in his family for several generations. He said he didn't know anything about his ancestry on his father's side and didn't seem very interested either."
Cal looked up from the Bible. "You're worried about him, aren't you?"
Nolan's mouth twisted. "Let's just say he hasn't been himself lately. If I didn't know better I'd say he was on drugs."
Cal closed the book. "Can I ask you something?"
"Only if I can answer it."
"You can. Where have you been going at night?"
"Out."
"I know that," Cal said in annoyance. "Where?"
"Just around."
"God, you can be such a jerk. Have you seen them?"
"Who?"
"You know who, dammit."
Nolan smiled. "No, I haven't, as a matter of fact. I don't know what the hell they're up to. Maybe they went back to Texas."
"I knew that's what you were doing," Cal said. "And Mom thought the same thing. But she thinks they're just waiting. I do too."
"For what?"
"For us to either drop our guard or go. By now my grandmother will have found out about the money Darwin left us. She knows we'll leave the state once we get it."
"You think they'll ambush you on the way out?"
"I don't know. It makes sense. These guys are just a couple of racetrack hoods who usually do collection work for my grandfather. My grandmother Clarice is probably behind any strategy they come up with. They're not smart enough to think for themselves.”
Nolan smiled again. "I'll have to tell Al you said that. He's been worried about mob connections."
Cal straightened. "Are you going to see him today?"
"When Vic gets back from church," Nolan answered. "I talked to Al last night on the phone and he said he signed the papers on the yard. The buyer'll be taking possession the first of the month."
"Can I go with you?" Cal asked.
"Not this time."
"Why?" The sudden coolness in Nolan's voice caused anger and more than a little hurt to swell in Cal's chest. "What did I do to make you mad? You haven't wanted to—not that I care or anything, but for the last few days you've been acting like you're an open sore and I'm a disease. Is it because of Mom?"
"No. Look, we had fun fixing the cars, but I'm not your—"
Cal knew what was coming. "I fixed the cars, you asshole. And I didn't need your help. I could've done the whole thing by myself. All I needed were the parts. I was only humoring you by letting you think you were teaching me something. I've been messing with cars on the sly since I was nine. How do you think Mom's Mustang lasted this long?" Cal was mortified to feel a hot tear roll down his cheek. He quickly turned and wiped it away. "I don't know why I was defending you to her. She was right. You're just like my dad was. You're even worse."
Nolan extended a hand. "Hey, come on."
Cal jerked away and threw the aged Bible to the ground. "Why don't you just leave? Nobody here likes you. Your own friend doesn't even like you."
Slowly Nolan withdrew his hand and bent to pick up the Bible. Without a word he tucked it under his arm and turned away. When he disappeared around the side of the house Cal went back to his screens and sat down hard on the ground.
"Asshole," he muttered as another tear rolled down his cheek. He wiped it away and looked up with a start as Nolan strode into view again. His mouth was tight. "All right, you smart little bastard. You're coming to Al's with me. We'll see just how goddamned much you know about a car when you're behind the wheel."
Cal swallowed in surprise. "Driving? Me?"
"You," Nolan said. Then he turned on his heel and stalked away, his bare shoulders gleaming in the sun.
Cal quickly glanced at the house to see if his mother had been in hearing range. She'd have kittens with mittens if she knew what Nolan was planning for him. Only once had he been allowed behind the wheel of a car, resulting in the necessity of finding a new rear bumper for Darwin's Lincoln. His father, who had refused to use his own car, yelled so much that Cal had become nervous and backed into a truck at town. The owner of the truck, a huge man with a silver crew cut and impossibly white teeth, had gotten into a frenzied shouting match with his father—until a wad of cash appeared. Cal never saw the big man again. And since his father had been kicked by a horse and killed shortly afterward, Cal had never received any additional time behind the wheel.
His mother, too nervous and protective to teach him herself, asked him to wait until they moved to a city with a driving school. He wasn't old enough to obtain a license anyway, she argued. And she wanted him to have a teacher she could trust.
Cal grinned to himself as he abandoned his fishing screen to go inside and wash up. What his mom didn't know wouldn't hurt her. And besides, he trusted Nolan, even if he was a jerk.
CHAPTER 21
Christa didn't want to ride in the front seat with her daddy and the old man named Jinx. She didn't like the way the wrinkled man's eyes looked when he smiled at her. And he was always trying to tweak her nose or pat her on the bottom. She told her father she preferred to ride in the back where she could use a seatbelt. It was state law, she informed him. The man Jinx laughed and asked Andy if she wanted to ride in front on his lap. Andy had looked at Christa before shaking her head. She would ride in the front, she said, but she wanted to sit next to her daddy.
They were taking Jinx home to eat dinner with them. Last Sunday it had been the big man called Al, and now it was the smiling, wrinkled man. Christa didn't think Myra knew they were having company. She told her daddy so, and he said not to worry; they were going to spend some time with the horses—two more were coming, remember—so Myra would have plenty of time to cook something. Christa did remember that two more horses were coming, but she also remembered what Myra had done to Uncle Nolan last Sunday. She didn't want Myra to be mad again.
She sat in the huge back seat of her grandfather's car and listened to her father talk to the wrinkled man. He laughed and joked a lot with Jinx, more than he did with anyone else. But it didn't sound like her daddy's usual joking voice, and his laugh sounded as if something were caught in his throat. When they mentioned something about a trip they were going to take, Christa leaned forward.
"Daddy, where are you going?"
"New Mexico," Jinx answered. "He's gonna come and baby-sit me for a few days."
Christa ignored the old man and looked at her father. "When Daddy?"
"Thursday," he told her. "We should be back sometime Sunday evening."
"Are we going too?" Andy asked.
"No, you'll be staying at home with Myra. This is business, honey. We'll be too busy to look after you."
"Police business?" Christa inquired.
"You could say that," Jinx said with a grin. "They'd probably like to make it their business, anyway."
Christa saw her father frown at Jinx before glancing in the rearview mirror to meet her eyes. "Just town busines
s, sweetheart. It's only for a few days."
"Who's going to be the police while you're gone?" Christa asked.
"Ed'll come out of retirement to fill in," Jinx said. "Don't you worry, little sweetie. Your daddy'll be with old Jinx." He stroked Andy on the bead. "You're just the cutest little thing. I'll bet you ain't worried."
Andy flipped her hair and squirmed closer to her father. "Are we almost home, Daddy?"
"Almost."
"Good. The kitties are probably hungry. They need their milk."
"Got kitties, do you?" Jinx said. "Little ones or big ones?"
"Both," Andy said. "More little than big."
Christa saw the old man's mouth curve. "You know you got to rub 'em just right behind the ears to make 'em feel good, don't you? Like this. . ." He lifted one veiny hand and reached for Andy's ear.
"We know," Christa said loudly. "Cal taught us how to tame them. You don't have to show us."
"Christa," her daddy said in a warning voice. "Be nice. Jinx is just being friendly."
"He smells," Andy said. "He smells old."
Jinx's mouth twitched, then he began to laugh. "I am old, cutie pie. I'm just as old as I can be. You know how old I am?"
"A hundred," Andy said.
"Close," Jinx said, still chuckling. "Christa, sweetie, how old do you think I am?"
Christa eyed him. Her voice was flat. "Old enough to die."
Jinx twisted around to look at her. The fierce light in his dirt-colored eyes made her shrink back in her seat.
"I ain't gonna die for a while yet," he said to her. "Not for a while, little one." He smiled suddenly and twisted back around. "How you been feelin' lately, Vic? Better than you was, I hope?"
"A lot better," her father said. "Auntie Em's twister could pick up the house and I'd sleep through it. Makes a helluva lot of difference when you get a good night's rest."
"That it does," Jinx said. Then he sighed. "I hope Myra ain't fryin' anything for dinner. I'm tryin' to cut down on my cholesterol intake."
"She bakes and broils mostly," Christa heard her daddy say. "She doesn't like to use oil or lard."
"That's good," Jinx said. "That's real smart. I sure love my fried chicken and hash browns, but Doc says I got to stop eatin' such things. Bad for the ticker."
"Red meat and all that junk too, huh?"
"Lord, no. You couldn't make me give up my steaks for anything." Jinx pointed then. "Is that Cal standin' out there? I ain't seen that boy in ages."
"That's him, all right," her father answered, and Christa undid her seatbelt to sit up. Cal was standing beside Uncle Nolan's car. His arms were crossed over his chest in a pose of waiting. She waved as they neared him but she didn't think he could see her. When the car stopped she quickly got out before Jinx could open her door for her. Andy scooted out after her father.
"Hi, Cal," Christa said.
"Hi, Christa. How was church?"
"Boring," she said. Then she ran past him to go in the house and tell Myra they had company for dinner again. She looked in the kitchen and the pantry and the living room and finally decided that Myra was upstairs. She passed Uncle Nolan on the way up and he merely grunted hello at her.
"Is Myra in her room?" she asked him.
"Where else?" he said before continuing down. He looked mad. Or sad. It was hard for Christa to tell with Uncle Nolan. She rushed up the stairs and went to knock on Myra's bedroom door. A hard bumping sound followed her knock, as if something had been thrown at the door.
"I'm fine!" Myra shouted from the other side. "Just take him and go!"
"It's me," Christa said cautiously.
Seconds later the door opened. "I'm sorry," Myra said. "I thought you were someone else. What is it, Christa?"
"Have you been crying?" Christa asked. "Your nose is all red."
"I had a nosebleed," Myra said.
"I've had one of those before," Christa told her. "I had to put my head back and put ice right here." She pointed to the bridge of her nose.
"That's what he wanted to do," Myra muttered. "Mr. Friendly Fire—anyway, it's stopped now. What did you want, honey?"
Christa's brow lowered. "Daddy brought Mr. Jinx home for dinner."
Myra made a face. "Great."
"And he doesn't want anything fried," Christa reported. "But Daddy told him you didn't fry stuff." She eyed Myra's pink nostrils again. "What made your nose bleed?"
"I don't know," Myra said. "I felt suddenly cold and then weak and… light headed. But I'm better now."
Christa nodded knowingly. Sometimes she felt the same way after Drusilla appeared. It was like Drusie needed some of Christa's…something…for herself. After Christa felt the cold she always got tired. But then she would see Drusie again and she'd forget about being tired.
"What are we having for dinner?" she asked.
Myra smiled. "With Jinx here I think I’ll serve cold cabbage soup."
"Ugh." Christa wrinkled her nose. "He won't ever come back here to eat."
"That's the idea," Myra said.
"You don't like him either," Christa observed with relief. But she didn't want to eat cold cabbage soup for dinner and she told Myra as much.
"I was teasing you, Christa. We may not like Jinx, but we have to be civil to him because he's your father's guest. Come on. Let's go see what's in the cupboard."
Christa let herself be steered out of the room. She walked ahead and then paused when she felt Myra stop. Christa turned back to see her staring into Cal's room with a funny expression. After a moment Myra shivered and hurried to catch up. Christa took her hand as they descended the stairs. Myra was trembling.
"Daddy says we're going back to town with Jinx later to play Bingo. Do you want to come with us?"
"No thanks honey."
"Are you sure? It'll be fun if you're there. Andy always needs someone to help with her cards. She never pays attention when the numbers are called."
"I'm sure," Myra said. "I'm planning on going to bed early tonight. I think I just need some rest."
Christa frowned as she remembered her father's words in the car. It seemed like grownups had an awful lot of trouble sleeping. And it wasn't Auntie Em's twister. She would have to remember to tell him that.
"What do you suppose Old Raisin Face would deign to eat?" Myra said as they entered the kitchen.
Old Raisin Face. Christa grinned and put her arms around Myra's waist to give her a hug. It was the first time she had ever done so, the first time she had wanted to hug any woman since her mother's funeral. She waited, breathless, until Myra hugged her back; then with her face in the soft of Myra's stomach, she said, "I'm sorry Drusie made your nose bleed. She probably didn't mean to."
"What?" Myra pulled away. "What did you say?"
Christa paused in consideration before finally shaking her head. "Nothing." I'm going to the barn now."
It was better not to talk about Drusie. Her daddy had gotten upset when Christa told him about their strange friend. Christa didn't want to upset Myra. Not if they were having pie for dessert.
CHAPTER 22
Nolan drove down the drive with a scowl on his face. He hated the nosy old sonofabitch with Vic. Jinx must've asked him three times when he was leaving. Finally Nolan said he would drop by the diner on his way out of town so Jinx would have the exclusive. Vic didn’t think it was funny, but Cal laughed like a fool. Nolan glanced at the boy. His cheeks were flushed with excitement and anticipation. His blue eyes sparkled with warmth when he met Nolan's gaze.
So much for putting distance between himself and the kid. "Another mile and she's all yours," he said. "Have you ever driven before?"
"Once," Cal said. "Dad took me into Denke and I hit this guy's truck."
Nolan raised both brows. "He took you into town on your first try?" Granted, there wasn't that much traffic in Denke, but it still seemed foolish.
"It was Darwin's car. That was the bumper I told you about. Dad wouldn't have risked his own car."
An
d you think I'm just like him, Nolan thought. Even worse.
No, that was just an angry kid talking. Cal knew better. He knew, for instance, how Nolan felt about his convertible. Putting it into the hands of a green kid was like offering up sacrifice to…
"Cal, I want to say one thing. You put one dent in this car and you're carnage on the road. Got that?"
Cal grinned. "Got it."
Nolan stopped the car and opened his door to get out and take a good look around. All he needed was for Grandma's henchmen to show up while Cal was behind the wheel. He squinted in both directions and saw nothing but dusty, deserted country road. So far, so good.
"Slide over, kid. And put on that belt."
Cal finished fastening his seatbelt. "Ready."
"Okay. Do you need to move the seat up?"
"I'm fine. I'm almost as tall as you."
"In your dreams, maybe. Seriously now, can you reach the pedals okay?"
Cal put the car in gear and showed him. Nolan pushed himself away from the dash and scrambled for his seatbelt.
"Whoa, kid. Treat that accelerator like a backseat virgin with locked knees. Be nice and she'll open up all on her own."
The car swerved as Cal gave a nervous laugh. "My mom would kill me if she knew I was doing this."
"She knows," Nolan said. "I told her."
Cal darted a look at him. "What did she say?"
"Nothing." She'd been too concerned about the blood pouring from her nose. And she wouldn't let Nolan get near her. If she slammed that bedroom door in his face one more time he was going to take the fucking thing off the hinges and burn it.
"Keep your eyes on the road, kid. You're doing great so far."
Cal's knuckles were white. "I can't believe she didn't say anything."
"Well, she didn't, so stop worrying and think about what you're doing. Just relax your grip on the wheel and feel the play beneath your hands. She'll go anywhere you want her to with just a touch."
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