Rock lost his battle to remain upright and sank onto the lawn beside the boy, who grinned as if he’d just won a year’s worth of free chocolate bars. Miko hovered above them, keeping one eye on the pathetic thief crying on the back step a few feet away and the other on the man she loved as his lifeblood dripped onto the lush green grass of the yard.
Miko wrapped her arms around Rock, helping him lie back in the cool grass. Gentle fingers probed the wound on the side of his head. A prayer of thanksgiving rolled up from her soul and joined her heartfelt sigh of relief that Rock would be fine. The bullet had barely grazed his head just above his ear. Although it bled like the dickens, he would recover.
She looked to the boy who had defended them and her home. “Petey, would you run inside and phone the sheriff? If you ask the operator, she can connect you. Please tell him his assistance is needed and give him our address.”
“I’m on the job, Miko!” The youngster shoved his slingshot into his pocket and raced around to the front porch. The sound of his footsteps pounding through the house vibrated out the open windows. The excited tone of his voice drifted to the adults on the breeze although his words were not distinguishable.
When Petey returned, he held a wet towel in one hand and a glass of water in the other. He rushed over to where Rock had raised himself to a sitting position and pushed the towel against the wound oozing blood all over Rock’s fine clothes.
“The sheriff is on his way. I told him to be quick about it since we got a wounded soldier and a crazy man with a gun in his pocket.” Petey handed him the glass of water, then hunkered down, resting on his haunches. “Gee, Cap, but ol’ Norman sure made a mess out of your nice suit.”
Rock drained the glass and glanced down. “I guess he did, but this doesn’t seem like much compared to the mess he made in the house.”
“I’ve never seen such a cyclone!” Petey whistled and waved a juice-streaked hand toward the back step where Norman continued to cower and whine. “Gosh, do you think we ought to tie him up until the sheriff comes?”
Rock forced his gaze to focus on his wife. Although she stood, she looked unsteady on her feet.
“Why don’t we —” Rock gasped and rose to his feet as Norman screeched an unearthly sound and lunged toward Miko, struggling to draw the gun from his pocket with his wounded hand.
Marbles scattered beneath him and he fell down the steps. Rock used the butt of the pistol in his hand to knock Norman senseless. The criminal tumbled into the grass at Miko’s feet.
“Let’s do him up right!” Petey retrieved the rope he’d removed from Miko and rushed back, handing her a length of it. She took the gun from Norman’s pocket, then knotted a piece of rope around his hands while Petey wrapped the man’s ankles. The boy promised to keep watch if she wanted to help Rock back inside.
Brushing aside the marbles with her foot, she opened the back door, then wrapped an arm around Rock’s waist, guiding him into the kitchen. Carefully cleaning the wound, she’d just finished wrapping a piece of gauze around it to keep it clean when wailing sirens announced the sheriff’s arrival. Two speeding vehicles approached the farm, red lights swirling on top of the cars.
“I don’t know what Petey told them, but they certainly hustled to get here,” Miko said, helping Rock to his feet. Together, they walked to the front door and down the steps to greet the sheriff and two deputies.
“Afternoon, sir,” Rock said, holding out his hand to the sheriff, pleased to see the man he considered a friend.
“Afternoon.” The sheriff looked around, expecting to find a yard littered with bodies from the frantic message relayed to him. “How many bodies are there?”
“Bodies?” Rock asked, gaping at the sheriff. “There’s one would-be murderer trussed up in the backyard, but that’s it.”
The sheriff’s face remained impassive. “Shall we take a look?”
Miko and Rock led the way to the back of the house, where Norman remained curled on the grass, shooting venomous daggers from his glazed eyes. Petey stood nearby, brandishing a pitchfork he’d grabbed from the garden shed.
The sheriff’s eyes widened and he bit back a grin at the sight of the boy and Norman Ness. Over the past few weeks, he’d embraced the hope he’d never set eyes on the salesman again.
“Norman, fancy meeting you here.” The sheriff bent down and removed the rag Petey had stuffed into Norman’s mouth. “You got anything to say for yourself?”
Norman appeared drunk as his eyes rolled back in his head and he muttered gibberish no one could understand. His breath came in short little puffs that reeked of sour candy while sweat rolled off him in waves. Although adrenaline had fueled his strength earlier, he now seemed as harmless as a wrung-out dishrag.
“Interesting.” The sheriff turned to Petey and hunkered down. “Do you live around here, young man?”
“Yes, sir. That way.” Petey pointed to the path he took to cut through the pasture to his house
“Is that right?” the sheriff asked. “Are you the one that phoned our office?”
The boy nodded with such vigor, his mop of red hair flopped into his eyes. “That was me, sir. Miko was busy keeping Mr. Nasty-Pants Norman from getting away and Cap was down for the count, so calling in the cavalry was up to me.”
The sheriff chuckled and motioned to the stone bench beneath the maple tree. “How about we sit down and you tell me all about your afternoon adventure while my deputies take Mr. Ness to jail?”
“Are you gonna stake him out in front of a firing squad and everything?” Petey asked as the deputies half carried, half dragged Norman around to their waiting car.
“Not just yet. I’ll have plenty of questions to ask him first.” The sheriff took a seat on the bench and Petey plopped down next to him. “Let’s start at the beginning. What did you see when you arrived?”
Petey answered the sheriff’s questions, his little body strung so taut with lingering excitement, it appeared he might combust at the slightest provocation. He’d just reached the point in his story about hearing the gunshot from the house, when John Phillips arrived, racing into the backyard, concern evident in every line of his face.
“Petey! Are you okay?” he asked, scooping his son into his arms and hugging him close.
“By jingo, Dad, I done good! Boy, you should’a seen me in action. I was a regular terror, but I tell ya, I’m about played out.” Suddenly sapped of energy, the boy sagged and rested his head on his father’s strong shoulder.
John looked to the adults for an explanation. Miko spoke of finding Norman at the produce stand, then waking up to Petey cornering the salesman like a rabid animal on the back step. Rock shared what little he knew of the story. The brave little boy filled in the gaps the two adults hadn’t been conscious to witness.
The sheriff sent Petey home with his father after praising him for his fine work. Miko handed over the pistol she’d taken from Norman. The sheriff pocketed it and accompanied the couple inside the house, inspecting the damage Norman had caused. After taking detailed notes, he glanced around in disgust at the mess.
“What was he after?” the sheriff asked as Rock and Miko walked him out to his car.
“We think he wanted the deed to the farm. He had it in his head if he found it, he could take over the farm,” Rock said.
“You won’t have to worry about him bugging you again, Mrs. Laroux. He’ll be gone for a very long time,” the sheriff said, then pointed to the produce stand. “Are the melons ready yet?”
Miko hurried over to the stand and returned carrying one of the few early watermelons she harvested that day. She handed it to the sheriff with a shy smile. “Thank you for your help, Sheriff. We appreciate it.”
He took the melon with a grin and set it on the floor in his car. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to wait to taste that until I get home. My wife and kids might never know about it. Maybe I’ll bring them out here one of these days.”
“You’re welcome anytime, sir,” Rock said,
settling his arm around Miko’s waist again.
The sheriff nodded. “If we have any questions, we’ll be in touch.” The man pointed toward Rock’s head. “You might want to have that graze checked by a doctor. Most likely it just stunned you, but head wounds can be tricky things.”
“Thank you, sir, and thank you for coming out so quickly,” Rock said, shaking the sheriff’s hand, then watching as the man slid into his car.
“If you ever get in another fix, I sure hope the Phillips boy is around. Now that’s a young one with some spunk.” With a wink, the sheriff backed up and left.
Rock and Miko watched him drive away before turning toward the house. Neither wanted to clean up the monumental mess Norman had created.
With heavy steps, they crossed the front walk and mounted the porch, but the sound of another vehicle approaching drew their gaze to the car pulling up at the front gate.
One of their work crew bounded up the walk and stared at them. “Are you both okay?” he asked, fear clearly expressed on his face and in his voice.
“We’re okay, Jared,” Rock assured him. “What are you doing here?”
“I was working just down the road, over on the Donald place, when I heard the sirens and saw the flashing lights speed by. I had to finish my work, or I would’ve run over right then. Anyway, I wondered what brought the sheriff out this way again. It hasn’t been that long since Mrs. Danvers’s wreck. I was almost to your lane when the sheriff pulled onto the road.” The young man took in Rock’s bandaged head and the blood all over his clothes. “Jeepers! What happened?”
Rock looked down at his filthy clothes. “You know that salesman, Norman Ness?”
Jared’s nose wrinkled. “The smelly one who eats that stinky candy, and then breathes all over you when he talks?”
Miko couldn’t contain her smile. “That’s the one.”
“He’s a sick man, Jared,” Rock said. “He got it into his head that if he killed me and Mrs. Laroux, he could take over this place.”
“What!” Jared’s eyes widened. “That’s crazy!”
“Yep, it is. Anyway, he tied Mrs. Laroux to a tree, tore the house apart looking for the deed to the farm, and shot me when I arrived home from town.” Rock gingerly touched his head. “I’m lucky he isn’t a better shot.”
Eager to hear the rest of the story, Jared leaned forward. “How’d you stop him?”
“Petey Phillips,” Rock said with a broad grin. “I wish I’d been awake to see the whole thing, but Petey kept ol’ Norman cornered on the back step with his slingshot and a bucket of rotten produce he nabbed from the compost pile.”
Jared laughed. “That kid is a regular firecracker. Boy, I wish I’d seen it, too.” The young man sobered. “But you both are okay? Did the sheriff take Norman to jail?”
Miko smiled at the teen. “We’re fine. Norman will be in jail for a long time to come,” she said. “I don’t have a thing put together for supper, but I could probably find some cookies and iced tea if you’re interested.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Laroux,” Jared said, following them through the open front door. He stopped inside the threshold and whistled, looking around the disastrous mess. Norman had dumped drawers, pawed through cushions, turned over lamps and tables, broken picture frames and tossed papers and books in his search for the deed. “Well, if this ain’t a dirty gyp of a thing, I don’t know what is.”
The young man stepped over a broken vase and glanced from Rock to Miko and back again. “You both have been so good to us this summer, it’s our turn to help you. Do you mind if I call the gang to give you a hand?”
“Oh, Jared, that’s so sweet, but I’m sure you must be tired from a long day of work at Mr. Donald’s place.”
“I’ve got plenty of juice left to squeeze,” the teen said with a jaunty grin. “Point me to the phone and I’ll send out a call for help.”
Miko shrugged and looked to Rock. He led the boy to the kitchen and showed him the telephone, then went to change his clothes. Miko retrieved a tablet of paper and began a list of everything that had been broken or damaged.
Rock returned to the living room pale-faced. Once they righted the sofa, she insisted he rest.
Within seconds of his head hitting the cushions, he fell asleep. Jared helped Miko until two carloads of young people arrived. The two girls who worked for them carried brown paper sacks full of hamburgers.
Miko poured glasses of juice and she and the teens ate an improvised picnic outside, then set to work cleaning the house. Rock roused when they returned inside. Miko gave him a hamburger and a glass of milk, ordering him to stay on the sofa. Unable to sit still while others worked, he moved into the office where he and one of the boys shelved the books Norman had scattered across the floor. John Phillips phoned, letting them know Petey had fallen asleep on the way home and awakened just long enough to eat a sandwich before drifting back to sleep.
When they finished, it was well past ten that evening. Not one of the teens left until the house was sparkling clean and everything that hadn’t been broken was put away.
Miko hugged Jared when he lingered behind as the other kids left. “I don’t know how to thank you, Jared. What you did was wonderful and so appreciated.”
Red crept up the embarrassed teenager’s neck, and he glanced down at his feet. “Aw, it wasn’t anything, Mrs. Laroux. We’re glad we could help.”
“You’re a fine young man, Jared.” Rock clapped him on the shoulder, then held out a hand for him to shake. “Thank you for what you did for us today, and for all you’ve done working for us this summer.”
“Well, shoot, everyone knows this is the place to work. It’s good pay, good hours, and Mrs. Laroux makes the best brownies.”
Miko smiled. “Perhaps we should have brownies tomorrow, then.”
“That’s a swell idea.” Jared grinned and jogged down the steps. “See you in the morning.”
Miko and Rock returned inside the house, relieved the mess was gone, and grateful for the amazing young people who had swept in and completed the bulk of the work.
Rock slumped onto the sofa and Miko sank down beside him, resting her head on his shoulder. Not one usually given to great shows of emotion, she sniffled as tears burned her eyes and clogged her throat.
“What’s wrong?” Rock kissed the top of her head as his hand rubbed comfortingly up and down her arm. “Did Norman hurt you? Did something happen you didn’t mention earlier? If he laid a hand on —”
Miko melded her lips to Rock’s, silencing him. Caught off guard, he didn’t want to frighten her away. He meekly accepted the kiss like a treasured gift and didn’t press further when she pulled back.
“I’m fine, Rock. Norman didn’t hurt me, other than my pride. I’m rather overwhelmed by the fine young people we know. First Petey, and then Jared and the gang. On top of that, I’m grateful you’ll be fine. If Norman had shot even a centimeter closer, you wouldn’t be here with me right now. I can’t bear to think of how close I came to losing you today.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks and she buried her face against Rock’s throat. He wrapped her in his arms and held her close, murmuring words of comfort.
“If I wasn’t bone-tired and incapacitated, I’d show you just how happy I am to be alive and here with you,” Rock teased when Miko lifted her head.
She offered him a lopsided smile and released a choppy breath. “I better take a look at your head before you go to bed. Do you have a headache?”
Rock hated to admit it, but his head felt like it might split in two. It had been that way since he’d come to his senses after Norman grazed him. His ears rang as if someone incessantly clanged a bell inside his noggin. Any quick movements of his head made him nauseous. He suspected he had a slight concussion, but he didn’t want to worry his wife.
On the other hand, if it would keep her close, he could let his tough, rugged persona slip to the wayside for one night.
With an anguished expression, he held a hand to his head. �
�My head feels like it might explode and my ears have been ringing like church bells for hours.”
Miko stood and fisted her hands on slim hips. “Why didn’t you say something earlier? I would have driven you to the hospital. Get up and I’ll take you right now.” She took two steps before Rock caught her fingers and tugged her around to face him.
His eyes fluttered open and closed, then he expelled a weary breath. “A good night’s rest is all I need. It’s probably just a little concussion.”
“A concussion! Good grief, Rock Laroux!” She plopped down next to him, making him wince, and then bounced back to her feet. “That’s it. I’ll take you straight to the hospital.”
“Honest, Miko, I just need to rest. I’ll be fine tomorrow.” He made a great show of lumbering to his feet and weaving his way down the hall to the bathroom. In the mirror, he examined the wound on his head, glad it wasn’t any lower or it would have taken part of his ear. Any higher, and it might have been impossible to hide the scar it would leave behind. Incredibly blessed to be alive, Rock decided the inconvenience of a headache was a small price to pay.
He took a fast shower and brushed his teeth, then entered his bedroom to find Miko there. The covers on his bed were turned back, his pillows fluffed. The curtains blew in the soft night breeze from the open window. The fragrance of moonflowers and cinnamon pinks drifted in, filling the room with a succulent scent that reminded Rock of his days in Trinidad.
Although his wife lingered in his bedroom, she didn’t appear ready to join him in bed. Fully dressed, she stood with hands at her sides, ready to offer assistance.
When he walked into the room dressed only in his underwear, he’d hoped to stir a reaction from her, but she hadn’t so much as blinked. A man less confident in himself might have felt slighted at her lack of interest or expression.
Had he not known how much she loved him, he might have given up hope. But no matter what she did or didn’t say, love lingered in her touches. He could see it in the light that shone from her dark eyes, and hear it in her voice when she said his name.
Garden of Her Heart (Hearts of the War Book 1) Page 26