Bought the Farm

by Peg Cochran

  Unlike most of the inhabitants of Lovett, who bought American cars, Matt drove a Mitsubishi Montero SUV, which he affectionately called Monty. It was nearly twenty years old and had its fair share of aches and pains, as he put it. But he didn’t want to part with it to get something newer—he would miss his old friend too much.

  Matt parked and stood by the passenger door and watched as Shelby came down the porch steps, yelling good-bye over her shoulder to Kelly. He opened the door and gave her a boost inside.

  “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you giving me a ride,” Shelby said once they were under way.

  “On the contrary, I can’t tell you how glad I am that I could be of service.” Matt glanced sideways at her and smiled.

  Shelby felt a warm sense of contentment that had nothing to do with her sun-warmed seat.

  The hospital was thirty minutes out of town, a short distance from the highway exit. It served a fairly large area and the medical helicopter was frequently seen landing and departing from its roof.

  Matt deftly pulled the Montero into an empty space in the emergency parking lot and trotted around the car to open Shelby’s door.

  “I hope Bert is going to be okay,” Shelby fretted.

  Matt held the hospital door aside for Shelby to enter. “I’m sure she will be. She did the right thing coming to the emergency room.”

  “Can you believe she drove herself?” Shelby said, half-amazed and half-appalled.

  “That’s Bert for you. There isn’t anything she can’t do.”

  A woman was standing at the reception desk with a towel wrapped around her hand. Shelby noticed a thin line of blood trickling down her arm, which was being absorbed by the hem of her long-sleeved T-shirt.

  Kitchen mishap? Shelby wondered.

  A nurse whisked the woman into the bowels of the emergency room and looked up at Shelby expectantly.

  “I’m looking for a Bert . . . I mean, Roberta—”

  Before Shelby could finish, a voice called out from behind the reception desk. “I’m in here.”

  The nurse smiled at Shelby and Matt and handed them each a badge. “Room twelve B,” she said before pressing a buzzer that let them into the inner sanctum.

  They found cubicle 12B, and Shelby cautiously parted the curtain and peered inside.

  “Come on in. I’m decent,” Bert said.

  She was lying on a gurney under a thin blanket, wearing a blue-and-white-print hospital gown.

  “Seth has been by to see me, bless his heart,” Bert said, straining to sit up.

  “Don’t,” Shelby said. “Let me help you.”

  She poked all around the gurney, looking for the lever that would raise the head of the bed.

  “I think this is it.” Matt bent down and pressed something on the side of the gurney. There was a grinding sound and the head of the bed slowly rose.

  “Whoa,” Bert said, “don’t send me flying through the curtain into the cubicle across the way. I don’t know what he’s got, but it sounds contagious. He’s been making a huge fuss over there ever since I got here.”

  “Don’t worry.” Matt smiled and the skin around his eyes crinkled. “It’s all under control.”

  He sat in one of the molded orange plastic chairs and Shelby sat in the other.

  “You two are just wasting your time, you know,” Bert said, fussing at the hem of the blanket. “Why don’t you go get yourselves something to eat at a nice quiet and cozy place? I’m going to be fine.”

  “Not on your life,” Shelby said with as much firmness as she could muster. “We’re staying right here, and we’ll be here when they wheel you out of surgery again.”

  “Suit yourselves,” Bert sniffed. “I heard the cafeteria food isn’t half-bad. Not much atmosphere, though.”

  Shelby laughed. “Don’t worry about us. We’ll manage.” She had a sudden horrifying thought. She whirled around toward Matt. “I’m being awfully presumptuous. You must have things to do.”

  Matt gave a lazy smile and took Shelby’s hand in his. “Nothing at all except sit here with you and keep you company.”

  An orderly came to wheel Bert down to the operating room. She left with a very satisfied smile on her face.

  * * *

  • • •

  Bert came through the surgery with flying colors. Shelby and Matt waited until she was settled in her room before saying good night and heading out.

  “I can’t thank you enough,” Shelby said when Matt pulled into her driveway.

  “Like I told you—it was my pleasure.”

  Shelby noticed that only one lamp was burning in the living room and that Billy’s bedroom light was out. He must have gotten tired and put himself to bed. Shelby would tiptoe in later and kiss him good night.

  “Are you hungry?” Shelby said, suddenly realizing she was.

  “Now that you mention it . . .”

  “Come on in, and I’ll see what I can put together.”

  The television was on in the living room and Kelly was watching a documentary on marine life in the Virgin Islands.

  She got up, stifling a yawn, when Matt and Shelby walked in.

  “How’s Bert?” she asked, rubbing her eyes.

  “Bert’s doing fine. They took her gallbladder out and Seth said that will solve her problems.”

  “Good.” Kelly stifled another yawn. “I’d better get going.”

  “Thanks so much, Kelly,” Shelby said as she walked Kelly to the door.

  “Don’t mention it,” Kelly said, giving Shelby a quick hug.

  Shelby didn’t want to know what she was going to find when they walked into the kitchen, but she was pleasantly surprised. Amelia had put all the dishes in the dishwasher and wiped down the kitchen table. Half a delectable-looking pizza was on a serving dish on the counter covered with plastic wrap.

  Matt pointed to it. “That sure looks good. Or are you saving it for something?”

  “No, I think Amelia saved it for us.”

  Shelby turned on the oven and slid her pizza stone onto the bottom rack.

  “It won’t take long to heat this up. In the meantime, I have some cold beer or a glass of wine?”

  “Beer sounds good.”

  Shelby retrieved a bottle from the refrigerator and handed it to Matt along with a glass, then checked the oven temperature. She slid the remains of the pizza onto the now hot stone and set the timer.

  “That should be ready in a few minutes.”

  “No rush.” Matt twisted the cap off his beer. “Any news from your brother-in-law on the murder investigation?”

  “No.” Shelby perched on a chair and put the glass of wine she’d poured herself on the table. “Frank isn’t sharing much with me.” She thought for a moment. “He never does, but I suppose he can’t.”

  “Have you learned anything new?” Matt poured his beer into the glass, the foam rising almost to the top. He took a sip and tilted his chair back on two legs.

  “Quite a bit. I think Cody was killed because he knew something. Maybe he noticed that the killer’s clothes were wet.”

  “Whoa.” Matt let his chair drop back to the floor. “You didn’t tell me about that. You mean there was a second murder?”

  “Yes. Paislee found Cody in the barn. Strangled.”

  Matt frowned, his brows lowering over his eyes. “I don’t like this at all. Are you sure you and the children are safe?”

  Should she tell him about the threatening comment on her blog? Shelby wondered. No, she decided. It would only worry him more.

  “I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

  Matt didn’t look convinced. “I wish they would nail whoever did this.” He put his glass down. “I’d sleep a whole lot better at night.”

  His comment brought Shelby up short—he really was worried about her. />
  “Me, too.” Shelby sighed. “There are almost too many suspects. Jax had several reasons for hating his brother. But then so did Paislee.”

  “Oh?”

  The timer on the oven dinged, and Shelby got up to retrieve the pizza. The scent of basil combined with a warm yeasty smell filled the air when she opened the oven door.

  “Travis and Paislee were having an affair. But when the band arrived here, Travis took up again with Jessie, his former fiancée.” Shelby carried the pizza to the counter. “Let’s just say that Paislee was less than pleased about that.”

  “That’s easy to understand.” Matt leaned back in his chair and stretched out his legs. “I suppose that gives her a motive.” Matt took the plate of pizza Shelby handed him. “That smells delicious,” he said, inhaling sharply. “But could a woman have killed Travis? It must have taken some strength to hold his head underwater.”

  Shelby shuddered at the thought. “According to the autopsy, he’d been hit over the head first. He might not have been knocked out completely, but he was definitely stunned enough to make killing him easier.”

  They talked of other things while they finished their pizza. Matt drained the rest of his beer and pushed back his chair.

  “I’d better get going. It’s late, and I know you have to be up with the chickens in the morning.” He shook his head. “I don’t think I could do it. I guess you can take the boy out of the city, but you can’t take the city out of the boy.”

  “Do you miss it? New York City, I mean.”

  Matt tilted his head. “Sometimes. Sometimes when I read about a new exhibit that’s been mounted or a new restaurant that’s opened . . . but then I remind myself of everything I have here, and the longing passes.”

  “You can always go back for a visit.” Shelby walked with him toward the front door.

  “That’s true. But I hate to go alone. I’d rather wait until I have someone to go with me.” He stared pointedly at Shelby.

  She felt her face becoming suffused with warmth. They were standing by the front door now, mere inches apart.

  Matt leaned forward until his lips met Shelby’s. His arms went around her and pulled her close.

  Shelby was overwhelmed with sensations—warmth and contentment and the feeling of everything being right in the world.

  * * *

  • • •

  Another storm kicked up during the night, and Shelby reached down and pulled up the comforter she’d folded at the foot of the bed. The thought crossed her mind that it would be nice to have someone to snuggle up to and of course she thought of Matt.

  Bitsy and Jenkins were on either side of the bed, and one of them—Shelby thought it was Jenkins—was snoring softly. She punched her pillow a few times to bunch it up into her preferred shape, pulled the comforter up under her chin, and closed her eyes again. She could get up and close the open window—the lace curtains were being blown into the room by the wind—but the thought of her bare feet on the wood floor made her shiver.

  She was about to drift off again when both dogs suddenly startled and jumped to their feet. They began barking furiously. Shelby felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. The dogs were used to all the nighttime noises at Love Blossom Farm. The only thing that would cause them to wake up and begin making such a racket was something out of the ordinary. Way out of the ordinary. Both Jenkins and Bitsy were deep sleepers.

  Shelby threw back the covers and winced as her bare feet hit the floor. She tried to listen but could hear nothing but the dogs barking. She nearly ran into Amelia, who was standing in the hall looking like some sort of ghostly angel, her blond curls in a tangle around her face.

  “Why are the dogs barking?” she said, her voice thick with sleep.

  “I don’t know. There’s probably an animal outside that set them off.” Shelby turned Amelia around so that she was facing her bedroom. “You go back to sleep. It’s nothing to be worried about.”

  Amelia looked like a sleepwalker as she drifted back toward the open door to her room.

  Shelby tiptoed down the stairs. The dogs were already by the front door. Their barking had yet to slow down, let alone cease. It was a miracle they hadn’t woken Billy, but that boy was so active all day that at night he didn’t so much sleep as fall into a coma.

  Shelby realized she was shivering as she peered through the sidelights alongside the front door. She should have grabbed her robe before heading downstairs.

  She couldn’t see anything outside and was about to turn away when a shadow momentarily blotted out the porch light she’d switched on. Her breath caught in her throat and she felt her heart hammering hard against her chest.

  It was probably nothing. The dogs barked at everything.

  Yes, but they don’t usually rouse from a sound sleep, part of her brain argued.

  Suddenly Shelby didn’t feel so brave. She retrieved her cell phone from the table in the living room where she’d left it charging and dialed a familiar number almost without thinking.

  Shelby stood in front of the living room window, wrapped in one of the throws she kept on the sofa, scanning the dark for the first pricks of light from a car’s headlights. Finally she thought she saw something in the distance, and the light got brighter and brighter as the car came down the drive.

  Shelby had thrown open the door almost before the car came to a halt. She ran toward it, a sob of relief catching in her throat.

  The dogs, finally freed from the confines of the house, bolted outside, their noses to the ground as if they were bloodhounds and not a mastiff and a West Highland terrier.

  A figure emerged from the darkness and put his arms around Shelby. She rested her head against his chest and slowly her heart and her breath slowed.

  “Did you see anyone?” Matt said as he led Shelby back inside.

  He looked around the porch. The floor was covered by a thin layer of fine dirt that had been blown onto it by the evening’s wind. Matt pointed at something.

  “Footprints,” he said succinctly.

  “Where?” The hair on the back of Shelby’s neck prickled again.

  Matt waved a hand toward the right side of the porch.

  “Those are new,” Shelby said, shivering. “I swept the porch earlier. The wind must have churned all this dirt up again.”

  Matt frowned. “Someone was standing on your porch.” He shook his head. “I don’t like it.” He turned to Shelby. “I think you should call the police.”

  “It’s the middle of the night.”

  Matt smiled. “That’s what they signed on for, isn’t it?”

  “Whoever it was—if there was someone on the porch—has probably been scared off by now. I’ll call them in the morning.”

  “Then I’ll stay here and keep guard. I can sleep on your couch.”

  Matt was already reaching for the front doorknob.

  Shelby wanted to argue, but she was shaken enough that the thought of being alone in the house with the kids spooked her.

  She arranged the throw she’d been wrapped up in earlier on the sofa.

  “I’m afraid it smells a bit of dog,” she said, catching a whiff as she shook it out.

  “My favorite smell.”

  “I can get you a pillow.”

  Matt put a hand on Shelby’s arm. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine. And I’ll be sure to leave before the kids are up. No need to start tongues wagging.”

  Suddenly Shelby was very tired. Her eyes wanted to close and her limbs felt as heavy as tree trunks.

  “I can’t thank you enough.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Matt said, putting his hands on Shelby’s shoulders and turning her toward the stairs. “You look exhausted. Go get some sleep. It will be morning all too soon.”

  Shelby didn’t argue. She dragged herself up the stairs and into bed but not b
efore slamming the bedroom window shut. The room was still cold and she wrapped up in the comforter, tucking it securely around her feet. She couldn’t help but think of Matt downstairs on the sofa.

  She would be so much warmer if he would come upstairs and join her.

  19

  Dear Reader,

  Chickens come in different sizes and you want to be sure you have the right one for the job. Broilers, fryers, and roasters are relatively interchangeable—it depends on what size chicken you need to feed your brood. They range from around two and a half pounds to five pounds. Want to roast, poach, or broil them? They’ll all work. They’re young chickens and will yield tender, succulent meat—just don’t overcook them!

  If you’re making stew or soup, you can get away with an older bird—in this case, a stewing chicken. The meat is tougher and needs long, slow cooking to break down and become edible.

  True to his word, Matt was gone when Shelby woke up in the morning, the throw neatly folded and draped over the arm of the sofa.

  Shelby yawned, pulled on the fleece she kept by the back door, slipped on her clogs, and went out to feed the chickens. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon and it was quiet except for the sound of a car backfiring out on the main road.

  Shelby scattered the chicken feed and watched in amusement as her Rhode Island Reds scurried around, picking it up. Her bucket empty and hanging at her side, she stood for a moment watching the sky lighten and the objects around her take shape, then returned the bucket to the barn and headed back toward the farmhouse.

  Amelia and Billy would be up soon. Shelby retrieved several eggs from the refrigerator, cracked them into a bowl, added a splash of milk, and mixed them up with a whisk until the clear whites and the deep yellow yolks had blended to a light lemon color.

  She had a frying pan on the stove with a nub of butter in it. Shelby lit the burner under the pan and swirled the butter around as it began to melt. She had her hand on the bowl and was about to pour in the eggs when she heard a car come down the drive. Moments later there was the sound of a car door slamming and then a timid knock on her back door.