by Gemma Bruce
“Then why did you?”
Julie shrugged. “Because we were poor, I guess. And don’t ask me why. I don’t know. Though I’ve often wondered.”
“Maybe your dad was a history buff.”
“I don’t think so.”
“These cottages are two hundred years old.”
Julie looked at her in surprise. “Are you a history buff?”
“History sucks.”
Taking that as a yes, Julie said, “It’s a shame how everything has been forgotten. This was a really important part of the nation’s past.”
“I guess. They teach all that shit in school.”
“Right, I remember. Junior year. American history. Pretty boring.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I’ve had enough of my family history. I’m for lunch.”
They retraced their steps back to the street and Julie took a last look. Tried to see the old house as a historical site instead of just the other side of the river. It didn’t work.
She started off back toward the main road, Melanie a few steps behind. They’d made it half way there, when they heard a car engine. Then a gray van sped past, headed toward the mill.
“Hey,” said Julie. “That’s the van that was used to kidnap me.” She tried to move faster, but by the time she’d reached the cleared section of road, the van was gone.
“What are they up to?” she said.
“To no good,” said Melanie. “That’s Henley’s van.”
Julie looked at her, then fumbled in her pocket for her car keys. “Go get Cas or Terrence. I think we might have found some kidnappers and some thieves.”
Melanie hesitated. “What are you going to do?”
“Hide and watch, just like our great-great-grandfathers.”
“Do you have your gun?”
Jeez, thought Julie. Did the whole town know about her Glock? “No. So hurry.”
Melanie took off toward the car, moving faster than Julie had ever seen her move. Julie began walking down the road toward the mill.
She stayed close to the snow banks, taking what cover she could. The van was parked in the front of the mill. She jumped back as Henley and Bo came out of the door, carrying stereo equipment.
Julie reevaluated her opinion of their stupidity. They must have learned something in school, like a little local Civil War history. She watched as they loaded the contraband into the van and went back inside.
She was torn between keeping an eye on them and going back down the road to warn Cas or Terrence when they arrived. She was pretty sure Henley and Bo would have to go back the way they came. Unless the road had been cleared all the way out to the old state highway on the other side of the mill.
Too late, she saw a shadow spread across the snow bank. She started to turn but felt something poke her in the ribs.
“Don’t get any ideas, Ms. Excelsior. Now, put your hands up. I’ve got a rifle.”
Damn, she hadn’t expected another accomplice. Slowly she raised her hands. The rifle poked her again. “Move.”
She began to walk toward the van.
Henley and Bo came out of the mill, stopped and stared.
“Where did she come from?” asked Henley.
“Found her hiding back in the snow, watching you, you dumb shit. I told you to be careful.”
“Dammit, Dad, I was careful. She’s a sneaky one.”
Arnold Baxter. Of course. Julie knew Henley and Bo would need help to figure out anything more complicated than lifting a beer bottle to their mouths. She just hoped Cas had the good sense to bring Terrence and not walk into a trap.
“I suggest you boys hurry and get out,” said Julie. “Somebody might see you.”
“Yeah, like you?” Henley laughed. “Too bad you won’t be around to tell.”
Julie went still. “It will be my word against yours. Won’t hold up in court.” Of course, it would, but she bet they didn’t know that.
“Sure won’t if you’re dead,” said Arnold. “Now shut up.”
Bo stared at Arnold. “You’re not gonna kill her. That’s murder. I’m not gonna be part of any murder.”
“Shut up, Bo,” said Henley and Arnold together.
“No, I mean it. They can send you away for murder. I’m getting out.” Bo dumped his load of equipment on the van floor and straightened up.
“Hold it right there unless you want to join her,” said Arnold.
Julie rolled her eyes. She didn’t really think Arnold would shoot her. Nobody could be that dumb, not even the Baxters.
Then she heard a faint sound. A car. Far away, but coming toward them. The others didn’t seem to notice.
“I’m not kidding. I’m not going down the road for a few stereos.”
“You dumb fuck, just load the stuff,” said Henley.
“First you tell me you aren’t gonna kill her.”
Henley shoved Bo. Bo stumbled back, then lunged for Henley. They both fell to the ground and started pummeling each other.
“Stop it,” yelled Arnold. Julie felt the rifle move against her back. Now was the time to move.
“Freeze,” yelled a new voice.
Oh no, thought Julie. Please say he isn’t waving that unloaded .38 at them.
“Drop the rifle.”
Slowly Arnold moved the rifle away.
Julie readied herself to grab it. Everyone in town, including Arnold must know that Cas couldn’t shoot worth shit. Julie turned her head enough to see that Arnold was still holding the rifle and that Cas was walking toward him, the .38 aimed at Arnold’s chest.
Damn it. If Arnold didn’t kill him she would, for being such an idiot.
Julie spun around intending to knock the rifle away. At the same moment, Arnold turned, raised the rifle and aimed.
She bit back a scream, but Cas wasn’t where he had been a moment before.
Arnold pointed the rifle indiscriminately, looking for him. Cas was closing in on him from the left; he dove at Arnold’s legs. Arnold jerked back from the force of Cas’s body; the rifle fired into the air, then fell to the ground. Arnold fought to keep his balance, but Cas just kept pushing him back. Julie snatched the rifle away as the two men fell to the ground.
Bo and Henley stopped fighting to watch Arnold and Cas roll across the pavement, fists flying.
Julie aimed the rifle at Bo and Henley. “Get up. Slowly,” she said just as another car screeched to a stop. It’s a party, she thought and motioned Henley and Bo into the open van.
Julie’s VW drove right up beside her. Terrence and Melanie jumped out. Terrence ran over to where Cas was hauling Arnold Baxter to his feet.
In minutes, the three culprits were handcuffed and pushed into the back seat of Cas’s police car.
Cas turned to Julie, a huge grin on his face and another black eye rapidly forming.
Julie narrowed her eyes at him. “Just what do you think you were doing?”
Cas’s grin disappeared. “I was saving you. I’m the sheriff.”
She stepped toward him, grabbed him by his jacket and shook him. “Don’t ever do something that stupid again.”
Cas frowned, then looked hurt. “I was just—”
“Trying to be a hero,” put in Melanie.
“Hey,” said Cas.
“I don’t want a hero,” said Julie, accenting each word with a shake of his lapels.
“You don’t?” asked Cas, sounding bewildered.
“Arrgh.” Julie pulled him into her until they were inches apart. “I just want you to keep giving me the best sex of my life, not get your balls blown off.”
“The best?” Cas’s frown slowly changed back to a smile. “Works for me.” And he kissed her.
Julie heard someone snort. Melanie. And someone rumble. Terrence. She pulled away. “We have an audience.”
“I can fix that.” Cas tossed his keys to Terrence. Then held out his hand to Melanie. She dropped Julie’s keys into it. “Take Mel back to the station with you. I’ll be there ... soon.”<
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A minute later, Julie and Cas heard the police car back up and drive away, but all they saw was each other.
The following Friday afternoon, Cas and Julie were standing inside the Roadhouse with the rest of the habitués for Tilda’s Grand Opening of the Old Roadhouse Inn. The original stone building had been converted to the front entrance and the clapboard addition was slated to undergo improvements in the spring. Tilda had just unveiled a new bronze sign that read The tavern that saved New York.
“A bit over the top,” said Maude, standing in the midst of the Hellzapoppin gang.
“Not at all,” said Tilda, looking proudly at her sign. “I’m having the whole history of the plot printed on the placemats and napkins, and Old Roadhouse Inn embossed on the new coasters.
“We’re a historic site. I’m gonna be ready for all the tourists,” she raised her voice and proclaimed, “who’ll come to see where Josiah Excelsior and William Reynolds thwarted the plot to capture New York.”
“I’ll drink to that,” said Terrence and drained his mug.
The door banged open and Larry, the biker, ran into the bar. “Wall down at the bridge broke.”
“Oh, shit,” said Cas.
“Anybody hurt?” asked Terrence.
“No, but—but you better come see. There’s something in the water.”
Julie, Cas, and Terrence exchanged glances.
“We’d better go see,” said Cas.
“You ladies better stay here,” said Dan Pliney and followed them out the door.
“Damn if I will,’ said Maude and hurried after him.
Soon the entire patronage of the Roadhouse was walking down Old Mill Road to the bridge. Cas and Terrence were looking across the river where water was gushing out of the ruptured wall.
“Would you look at that,” said Tilda.
“Damn, it looks like Niagara Falls,” said Dan.
Pretty close, thought Julie.
They all watched the water churn into the river.
“Do you think the bridge is safe?” someone asked.
“Sure, it’s broken through downstream.”
“Hey, look over there.”
Everyone turned toward the old harbor whose water level was rapidly dropping. There was something there. Big wooden beams began to stick obliquely out of the water.
It can’t be, thought Julie. But it was. As the water continued to drain, the deck of what had once been a river barge came into view.
Terrence and Cas immediately cordoned off the bridge with yellow crime tape.
“Historic site,” said Terrence. “No trespassing.”
“Let’s call the newspapers,” said Dan Pliney. “We’ve got us a major historical find here.”
“This might just put us back on the map,” said Henry Goethe.
“Well, no one touches it until we get some experts up here to look at it,” said Cas.
“Good idea, sheriff,’ said Elton Dinwiddie. “We’ll form a historic site watch, take turns guarding the place.”
“That’s a great idea, Elton,” said Cas. “Why don’t you organize it?”
Elton saluted and began making a list of volunteers.
“I see a bright future for old Ex Falls,” said Julie.
“Maybe they can find a real sheriff now,” said Cas.
Julie’s stomach fluttered. “You’re leaving?”
“We’re leaving.”
“We are?”
“Yep. Since we’re down here, I have something to show you.” He took her hand and led her through the crowd. At his cottage, he stopped and unlocked the door to the machine shop. “Close your eyes.”
“Okay,” said Julie, feeling wary.
He led her inside, turned her to the right and said, “Okay, open them.”
She did. She was standing in front of a shiny white boat hull. Along its prow, black letters spelled out Julie E.
“Oh, Cas, it’s beautiful.”
“She. She’s beautiful and so are you. Sail away with me, Julie.”
Julie turned. “Aye, aye, Captain. My pleasure.”
“Always,” said Cas and kissed her.
The entire town came out for the bon voyage of the Excelsior-Reynolds. Even Marian and Reynolds, who’d taken a long lunch hour from his new job as assistant manager of the Henryville Mercantile Bank.
“Take care of Ernie,” said Julie.
“Don’t worry,” said Maude.
“And Bill and Hillary and little Chelsea.”
“I will,” said Maude.
“And the Beetle.”
Melanie waved the keys at her. “And you take care of my dickhead brother.”
“I will.”
“We’ll have that shower when you come back for Tilda and Terrence’s wedding,” said Marian and dabbed at her eyes with a white hankie.
“Humph,” said Reynolds. “Drive safely.”
“I will,” said Cas and winked at Julie.
They got into the green truck.
“Are you ever going to tell me about the chicken, the horse and the Harley?”
Cas smiled. “Once there was a chicken and a horse ...” He started the engine.
The town waved good-bye, and Julie and Cas drove away, the Julie E. hooked to the bumper and Smitty smiling at everyone through the back window.
Don’t miss Dianne Castell’s
’TIL THERE WAS U,
available now from Brava!
Here’s a first look ...
A woman in shorts, white blouse, blond ponytail, barefoot and with a big purse slung over her shoulder was pulling something from the backseat. “The car’s my rental, but I don’t know who ... Holy cow! Effie?”
“Who’s Effie?”
“I ... I’m not sure,” he said to Rory as much as to himself as he took her in. Golden hair hanging free instead of bound up in some business do, a flimsy little blouse and bare legs ... lots and lots of bare tan legs. No wonder she didn’t want to lose her tan. Ryan ran his hand around the back of his neck. “I’m not sure at all and that’s not good.”
“I don’t know who you’re looking at, boy, but that gal is mighty fine.”
California Effie he could handle, but this? Who the hell was this? She gave a final tug, the suitcase sliding all the way out, making her stumble backwards and fall on the ground, the luggage landing on top of her.
Ryan rushed across the grass and picked up the luggage. Rory took Effie’s arm and helped her up. “Are you okay, little lady? You should have waited for someone to help you with that thing. Could have squashed you flatter than a frog on the freeway.”
“I’m fine, thank you,” she said to Rory with a genuine smile, making Ryan suddenly want her to smile at him like that. “The porter at the airport must have jammed that suitcase in the back. Like a size twelve foot in a size nine shoe.”
Rory’s eyes twinkled. “Well, I’ll be. Haven’t heard that expression in a coon’s age. A real country girl.”
Effie laughed, and Ryan’s insides did a little flip. She’d never laughed open and carefree like that before either. She said, “Born and raised in San Diego, but my grandparents lived on a farm. This place reminds me of it, sort of brings out that country girl you mentioned.”
Ryan nudged the suitcase. “What the hell’s in this thing? And where’d you get those clothes? You never dress like this.”
She turned his way. “I only packed slacks. I hadn’t planned on the blast furnace you all call the weather around here and being out in it. Thelma lent me clothes.” Effie smoothed the blouse and shorts. “Wasn’t that nice of her?”
“Thelma does not own short-shorts.” Did she just say ‘you all’?
“Rolled them up. And as for the luggage, I packed a fax machine and printer along with toner and paper so I can set up an office in the dining room. Thelma said it was okay with her and—”
“You packed office equipment?” Ryan watched a hint of breeze tease the wisps of blond hair curling in the humidity at her temples.
“You’re the one who said the Landing was nothing like our office, that this place was rural.”
“I didn’t say they used stone tablets and smoke signals.”
“Well, that’s what you implied. All I know about Tennessee is that it has mountains and they filter whiskey through ten feet of sugar-maple charcoal.” Effie shrugged. “One of my old boyfriends was a whiskey snob.”
“I’m Rory O’Fallon,” Rory said on a chuckle as he nodded at Ryan. “His daddy and happy as all get-out to meet you. The two of you together is damn interesting, I’ll tell you that.” He held out his hand to Effie.
Ryan felt as if he were seeing Effie for the first time, like when she’d come into his office all those months ago and knocked him on his ear. Trouble was, she was more beautiful now than then. He was certainly seeing parts of her he’d never seen before. Bare legs, bare arms, buttons open down the front of her blouse hinting at delectable cleavage where he suddenly wanted to bury his face. Shit!
Why couldn’t he work with the big fat guy down the hall and have him along now? Because the big fat guy wasn’t half the architect Effie Wilson was.
Rory hitched his chin toward the river. “We’ve got whatever office equipment you need right down at the landing. Help yourself anytime, though cell phones don’t work for spit in these parts.” He grinned. “The crew will sure appreciate having you around, give them something nice and pretty to look at and brighten their day. Hope you don’t mind a wolf whistle or two. They don’t mean nothing by it, just a little appreciation for the finer things in life.”
Did Effie blush? Ryan had never seen her do that. Made her eyes greener, her hair blonder, her skin shimmer. No way was he letting her go to any damn docks.
Okay, this great idea to bring her along so they could work together was not his best lifetime idea. In fact, it sucked. He’d thought things would be the same as in the office; he could handle Effie in a suit and buttoned up. Except she sure as hell wasn’t buttoned up now. He had to get rid of her, just like he told Rory he would. “Afraid she won’t get that far, Dad. Effie’s leaving in the morning.”
“I am?”
“There’s no need for you to be here. I’ve reconsidered.”
She folded her arms and glared at him. “Well, bully for you.”