by Cora Seton
Steel whistled. “Perfect.”
A commotion back at the door had them both swinging around. Steel cursed and dropped the box in the bed of his truck, then loped toward the building, where Jed and Virginia had exited and seemed to be coming to blows. Olivia stood back as Steel and Liam Turner managed to separate the octogenarians. Steel hustled Virginia to Olivia’s truck.
“Get her out of here,” he said.
“What about my things?” Virginia demanded.
“We’ll get them home, don’t you worry.” He tucked her into the truck and shut the door. “Seriously, Olivia. Take her straight home, and don’t let her cause any more problems tonight. Can you do that?”
Stung at his tone, she said, “Yeah, I can do that.”
Steel sighed. “Hell. Didn’t mean to take anything out on you. This is all we need, though. We were just making headway.”
Olivia knew what he meant. As soon as the Founder’s Prize had been announced at the Chance Creek Spring Fling Fair, Virginia had pounced and strong-armed Carl Whitfield into helping her fund a renovation and technological upgrade to Chance Creek High. The renovation was going to be fantastic. The old run-down building would be a high-tech palace by the time it was done and would feature a robotics program open to all its students to participate in. Carl had gotten donations from all kinds of major tech companies, and she was pretty sure he’d thrown in some of his own money to boot.
The Coopers’ fortunes had taken a turn in the town. Suddenly they weren’t just troublemakers. They were troublemakers who made a difference. Troublemakers who might just win that prize—and the Ridley property. If Virginia kept this up, though, soon enough they’d go back to just being trouble.
“Did you at least get my clock tonight?” Virginia demanded when Olivia got behind the wheel. “I told you it was the perfect time when everyone else was at the reception.”
“Noah followed me. Caught me in the act,” Olivia said matter-of-factly and braced herself for Virginia’s response.
“Huh. You probably blurted out all our secrets the minute he walked through the door. Never could hold your tongue.”
Count to ten. Count to ten, Olivia told herself. Every time she saw Virginia, her aunt managed to slip in a dig or two about the past. Repetition didn’t take away the sting, though. Nor the feeling her aunt was right.
“Your father would be alive, and your mother would still live in Chance Creek if—”
“Virginia!” Olivia exploded. Caught herself. “Virginia,” she started again in a calmer tone. “If you know what’s good for you, don’t push me tonight. I’m tired. I’ve had a long day. I’m liable to pull over and make you walk.”
“Ingrate.” Virginia crossed her arms and stared out the window, mercifully holding her tongue—for a minute. “What the hell happened to your dress?”
The next day Noah entered the house after his early chores to find Jed sitting at the kitchen table nursing a cup of coffee and reading the newspaper.
“Morning,” Noah said, eager to get past him and on with his business. He needed to leave for town in a minute.
“Morning, yourself. You seen this nonsense?” Jed ruffled the paper and began to read aloud. “‘Coopers to Bring Chance Creek High into the Twenty-First Century.’ What a load of baloney.”
“Can’t blame the school board for voting to accept their proposal. They’re going to update all the wiring and bring in high-tech equipment. Teach the kids computer programming and robotics. Things that’ll be useful to them.”
“Useful? Who needs computers? And those robots are just waiting to kill us. You know it’s true.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. But if they’re coming after us, maybe it would be smart to train a passel of kids to stop them, don’t you think?”
Jed glared at him. “It’ll be funny right up to the minute one of those machines breaks you in half.”
“Whatever, Uncle Jed. I’ve got to get to work.” Noah crossed to the sink, poured himself a glass of water and took a long drink. Ranching was a dusty business, and there hadn’t been rain in weeks.
Jed snorted. “That’s what you’re calling your day job? Lotta work it takes to jaw for half an hour now and then with your criminal friends.”
“I’m not jawing. I’m supervising parolees. It’s an important job.” Not to mention somebody had to keep the Flying W afloat. “I help make sure they get a chance to reintegrate with society. Or do you think we should just kick them to the curb when they’ve served their time?”
Ironic, Noah thought, that he was rebuilding the Turners’ finances by helping people bounce back from their mistakes. His father’s decision to help the Coopers bounce back from the ones they’d made had helped drain their coffers in the first place.
Not that any of the Coopers showed a whit of gratitude for that.
Noah forced himself to take a deep breath. He was being unfair. As far as he knew, none of the Coopers were aware of what he’d done, and paying Thorn Hill’s bills for the few months it stood unoccupied during the years they were away really wasn’t the crux of the Flying W’s money problems. He’d made a few mistakes the first years he’d taken over the operation. He was trying to set that right.
“No one’s helping me with my life,” Jed declared.
“Are you serious?” Noah waited, but Jed didn’t qualify his statement, and Noah wondered why he’d bothered spending half the night moving Jed’s things home. He set the glass on the counter and readied to go.
“Hold up there,” Jed said. “I’ve got a job for you.”
“You just said—” Noah gave up. “What job?”
“If we let those Coopers get away with their plan, they’re going to win the Founder’s Prize, which means they’re going to leave us high and dry.”
“You said we’d win it just because we’re Turners. Because we built the high school in the first place, and because you served on the council all those years.”
“We should win the prize for what we’ve done. I’m not on the council anymore, though, and people these days have short memories. You need to think of something that outshines what the Coopers have done. Something to fix or build or… something.”
“Like what?”
“You figure that out. I don’t get around as fast as I used to. You’ll have to be my eyes and ears on the ground. Go into town, ask around. What do people need that they don’t have? That’s what we’ll build.”
“We don’t have a lot of extra cash—”
“Stop making excuses and get it done. Meanwhile, I’ll figure out our strategy for blocking the Coopers. A project as big as theirs can have all kinds of things happen.”
Noah checked the time on his phone. He was late and didn’t have time to argue, even though he didn’t like his great-uncle’s train of thought. “I’ll get back to you on that,” he promised Jed. “But only if you leave that school alone. If I figure out you’ve been interfering, there’ll be consequences.”
“I’m shaking in my boots.” Jed scowled. “Think fast. Those Coopers already have a big head start.”
Maybe Chance Creek needed a bigger jail, Noah thought as he headed for his truck. One with an extension on the back of it—housing for ornery relatives.
Fifteen minutes later he slid into one of the rear booths at Linda’s Diner, where he and Brandon Sykes could have a quiet chat. He liked to meet his clients in public rather than in his shared office at the sheriff’s department. It was less intimidating. Parolees were more likely to open up when you treated them like human beings.
Noah had only worked this job for a couple of years, and he was aware he had a lot to learn. Men—and women—leaving the system entered civilian life like farmed fish thrown into the ocean. They were often caught off guard by unexpected currents. Easy prey for the same predators who’d influenced their decisions before they were incarcerated. Jumpy. A little lost.
He’d learned he had to work fast to establish a connection with his clients before their other, l
ess helpful friends and acquaintances established one first. He was amazed how often first-time offenders ended up back in prison within months—even weeks—of being released.
Brandon arrived on time, Noah was happy to note. He had high hopes for the twenty-five-year-old man who’d gone to jail for tampering with an ATM machine. Brandon had gotten drunk at a family barbecue one weekend and let an older cousin with a long history of bank robbery and other offenses convince him to help out with the job. Thankfully, Brandon broke off his relationship with his cousin when he went to jail. If he kept away from him, Noah thought the young man had a good chance of making something of himself. He was smart and seemed truly sorry for what he’d done—not like some habitual offenders who gloried in the lifestyle.
“Coffee?” Noah asked.
“Sure. Thanks.”
“Hi, Noah.” A waitress hustled up to their table.
“Hi, Christie. How’s it going?”
“Same as ever,” she answered with a smile. A cheerful brunette with her hair pulled up into a messy ponytail, she held up her notepad. “What can I get you?”
Noah placed their order, and she went off to fetch it. When he turned back, he noticed Brandon watching the waitress walk away.
“Any luck with your job hunt?” Noah prompted him.
Brandon shook his head ruefully. “I’ve applied to everything. No one ever calls me back. Why would they? They all know what I did.”
“You’ll find something. It takes patience.” Noah nudged the salt shaker until it lined up with the pepper shaker in the middle of the table. He picked up a packet of sugar substitute and added it to the line. He knew Brandon was going to have a rough time finding someone to hire him, but this was part of the process: he had to experience the search and the eventual success. Sooner or later some rancher would need an extra hand, and there would be Brandon, ready to help.
“Waiting around is driving me nuts. I need money. My folks don’t want me back home. I’m twenty-five, for God’s sake.”
“Lots of people live with their folks a lot longer than that. I did.” He wished his folks were still around to share the ranch now.
“Yeah, well, we’re not getting along.”
“Tell me about that.”
They paused while Christie delivered their coffee. “Anything else?” she asked.
“No, thanks,” Noah told her. He turned back to Brandon. “Well? What are you and your folks arguing about?”
“My mom’s always on me. Clean your room. Do your laundry. It’s like I’m a kid again.”
“Why do you think that is?”
Brandon scraped a hand over his face. “I don’t know—because I’m acting like one?”
“Are you?” Noah took a sip of coffee and noticed Christie hovering nearby. “We’re good,” he told her. She nodded and left. “Friend of yours?”
Brandon turned to see who he meant. Frowned. “Christie? I guess I know her from high school. She was a couple of years behind me. She’s grown up a bunch, though.” He shrugged.
Noah made a note to keep an eye on the situation. Christie wouldn’t be the first bored small-town girl to take on a project like Brandon to make life more interesting.
“So how can you act more like a grown-up?” he asked Brandon.
The other man sighed heavily. “Get a job and get my own place,” he growled. “Which I’m trying to do, but it’s not working.”
“How about seeing your parents as allies rather than as wardens, huh? Think about it.” Noah set his coffee cup down in line with the shakers. Added a fork to the lineup. “They’re your bridge to the community. Your parents are respected. They have jobs. They meet other people with jobs. People who might need new employees. You act like a kid at home, give them a hard time, throw your dirty clothes on the floor, leave your bed unmade… why would your folks recommend you to one of their friends?”
Brandon sighed again. “So I suck up to my parents.”
“You suck up to everybody,” Noah told him. “You never know where that next job is coming from. Every person in this restaurant, everyone on the street, everyone in the grocery store or at the movies—they’re all links in a chain to your next paycheck. Does that make sense?”
After a moment Brandon nodded. “Yeah, it actually does when you think about it that way. I don’t know why I’m being an ass to the folks,” he added.
“Are you going to those sessions I recommended?” There were casual group-therapy sessions for newly released offenders. He hoped Brandon would take advantage of them.
“Not yet,” Brandon admitted.
“Go to one,” Noah pressed him. “Look, there are all these pieces that have been laid out to help you. Pick them up and put them together to make yourself a new life. You owe it to yourself to try.”
“All right.”
“Action steps?” Noah prodded him. “I’ll see you in a week. What are we going to talk about?”
Brandon held up a finger. “I’m going to keep applying for every job I see.” He held up another. “Be nice to the folks.” Another finger. “Go to a stupid meeting.”
“What about exercise? You running?”
“You’re telling me to run?” For the first time Brandon cracked a smile. “I think that violates the terms of my parole, Noah.”
“Yeah, yeah, smart-ass. You know what I mean. Blow off some steam in a healthy way. You said you used to run back in high school. Get back to it. Set goals. Get healthy. Deal with the anger that builds up. You hear me?”
“Yeah, all right.”
“I like to jog,” Christie said, passing by again.
“Oh yeah?” Brandon sat back in his seat. “You never joined the track team in school.”
“Didn’t have time. Too busy working. With Dad not around…” She trailed off, but she didn’t need to explain. Noah knew Christie and her sister, Monica, had helped pay the bills when their dad took off. That was the thing about small towns, Noah thought. Everyone really did know everything. Or at least thought they did.
“I think we’ll take the bill, Christie,” he said, trying to derail what was happening. Knowing already he was too late. He’d have to have a private word with Christie and give her some advice. Brandon could turn a corner and spend the rest of his life on the straight and narrow path. Or he could take up where he’d left off and destroy her life along with his own if those two started dating.
“All right, I’m out of here,” Brandon said when they’d settled the bill. “Next week?”
“That’s right. Good luck,” Noah told him and watched him leave, not missing the smile Christie sent Brandon’s way when he passed her.
Hell. More trouble.
Christie veered off to greet a new set of customers, and Noah lifted his coffee cup to drain it. When he set it down again, Liam was taking a seat across from him.
“What’s up?” Liam asked.
“Just met with Brandon Sykes. What’s up with you?”
Liam took a menu from Christie when she came back but didn’t open it. “Coffee. Black. And a Danish. Something with strawberries in it.”
“Got it. Be back in a minute,” she told him and took the menu again.
“Killing time.” He chuckled. “Getting away from Uncle Jed, to tell the truth.”
“Yeah, he’s a handful.”
“What are we going to do about him?”
“What can we do?” Noah countered. He adjusted the fork to make his line straighter.
“If he stays, he’s going to try to run the place. He might not be able to ride anymore, but he can sure talk.”
“Let’s take it one day at a time for now,” Noah suggested. The truth was, he didn’t have any idea what to do either. Liam was right; Jed would soon grow bored on the ranch without the company he’d enjoyed in town. He didn’t know how to fix that.
“Hey, there’s Carl. Shouldn’t he be on his honeymoon?”
“I don’t think they went yet, actually,” Noah said. “Something about needi
ng more time to plan a big trip. He and Camila spent a few weeks down in Mexico last month.”
“Yeah, heard about that. Who’s he with?”
Noah didn’t recognize the man sitting across from Carl, but he could take a guess. “That’s got to be the architect who’s working on the school. Look, he’s got plans. Let’s go check it out.”
“What about my Danish?”
Noah wasn’t worried about the Danish. Christie would track them down. He wanted to see what Carl was up to—and how hard it would be for his family to top it.
When he reached Carl’s booth, he didn’t wait for an invitation. He dropped into the seat beside the stranger. “Morning, Carl. How’s married life treating you?”
“It’s great so far. We’ve got big plans for the ranch.”
“Got a name for it yet?”
“We’re keeping the one it has. Laurel Heights. Suits us fine.”
“What’cha got here?” Liam put in, sitting next to Carl when Carl slid over on his seat and tapping the large pieces of paper spread over the table.
“Plans for the Chance Creek High upgrade.”
“Heard it’s going to be pretty high-tech,” Noah said.
“It is. We’ve been working with the teachers to figure out how best to support them during the upgrade and transition. I’m going to bring in a half-dozen experts later in the summer for intensive training programs for them, too. Next fall those kids are in a for a big surprise.”
“Sounds great.” It bothered Noah he couldn’t simply feel happy for the town that it was happening. But there was the Ridley property to think about. “Feels like Chance Creek itself is getting an upgrade.” He made a show of looking around. “Wonder what else is in store for this town?”
“There’s a lot to do,” the architect put in. “Name’s Henry Woodruff. From Billings.” He shook hands with Noah and Liam. “Little towns like this all over the United States are getting rough around the edges.”
“Maybe one thing will lead to another,” Carl said. “But I like the old buildings in town. I hope people don’t mess with those classic facades too much.”