by Meg Benjamin
Harris pushed down on the accelerator, moving more quickly to counteract the flow against the wheels. “We’re doing it,” he said quietly. “It’s going to be okay.”
“Sure.” She took a deep breath. “No problem.” Porky whimpered slightly in protest as she squeezed.
She could see the end of the bridge ahead. Their headlights and Chico’s illuminated the slope of the hill on the other side. The front wheels of the truck bumped across the end of the bridge, then the rear wheels.
Darcy realized she’d been holding her breath. She let it out, easing her hold on Porky as the truck began the climb up to the road.
And come to a stop.
She gave a half squeak before locking her teeth together. Harris let the truck roll backward slightly, then hit the accelerator again, moving up a few more feet. Darcy did her best not to think about what would happen if they stalled. Rolling back down the hill to the bridge didn’t strike her a great idea. Missing the bridge and hitting the river would be even worse.
The rear wheels spun against the mud as the truck seemed to zigzag halfway up. Harris pulled the emergency brake when they came to a stop again, maybe a little farther up the hill than they’d been before.
“Take Porky and go on up with Chico and Andy,” he said.
“No.”
“Come on, Darcy, you don’t need to be here for this. Just please go up the hill so I don’t have to worry about you.”
She drew a breath to refuse again, but just then Chico appeared in their headlights, sliding down the hill toward them.
“Shit,” Harris muttered, rolling down his window.
“I’ve got a winch on the front of my truck,” Chico said. “Don’t know how much good it’ll do in this mud.”
Harris shook his head. “I can make it if I can just get a little farther up the hill. There’s a bump in the road here and I can’t get enough traction to go over it.”
Chico shrugged, pulling his ball cap farther down over his eyes. “I’ll give you a push.”
Darcy felt ice drip down her spine. The truck was loaded with frozen meat and miscellaneous foodstuff. If it rolled backward while Chico was pushing, it was likely to flatten him.
Harris’s jaw flexed. “Go on up with Andy, Darce. Take Porky.”
This time she didn’t argue, climbing out and clambering through the sucking mud to the top of the hill where Andy sat hunched in Chico’s truck. Porky whimpered in her arms, pushing against her chest. Andy rolled down the window, leaning out. “What are they doing?”
“Chico’s going to push. Harris thinks he can get the rest of the way up the hill if he can get over the rise.”
Her eyes widened. “Chico’s going to push?”
Darcy nodded, looking away. She didn’t think telling Andy everything was fine would do much good. Besides, she’d be lying through her teeth.
Andy opened the door and hopped down, stepping to the edge of the hill and staring toward the stalled truck. Chico had taken a position at the rear corner on the driver’s side, both arms braced against the side and back.
Andy hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my god. He’s going to get hurt.”
Since that seemed like a real possibility, Darcy kept her mouth shut. She pushed Porky into the truck cab, then closed the door. Come on, Harris. Do it.
The truck motor revved again, and they watched as the nose came straight. They could see Chico leaning forward, his shoulder pushing hard as the wheels spun.
“He’s getting muddy,” Darcy muttered. Andy kept her gaze glued on Chico and the truck.
The wheels spun for a moment longer and then the truck lurched upward suddenly, the front tires getting purchase on the gravel above.
“Oh no,” Andy breathed.
Darcy glanced back at Chico. Or at where Chico had been, but wasn’t any longer. She stepped forward and saw him face down in the mud.
“Chico!” Andy screamed and began to run down the slope toward him just as the truck crested the hill.
For a moment, Darcy was afraid they’d collide, but then Harris jerked the truck to the right and Andy sped by. The food truck rolled to a stop a few feet up the road from Chico’s. Harris opened his door and stepped out into the mud, then turned back toward the road.
Chico was sitting up now, his legs in front of him. Andy knelt at his side, wiping at the mud on his face with a tissue. Which was sort of like trying to clean the Augean stables with a toothbrush.
Harris headed down the slope again, with Darcy following. Her boots slid in the mud halfway down, but she managed to stay upright. Harris’s boots had less tread. He slid partway down the hill, then landed more or less beside Chico on one knee.
“Are you okay?”
Chico raised his muddy face, grimacing. “Oh hell yeah. Just muddy and pissed. Help me get out of here.”
Harris took his arm, pulling him to his feet with some difficulty. Darcy heard Andy catch her breath. Apparently, she wasn’t quite as reassured. Harris started back up the hill with Chico climbing behind him.
Andy stared after them, then turned to Darcy. “Goddamn men anyway.”
Darcy closed her eyes for a moment, then started climbing after Harris and Chico. “Amen, sister.”
Chapter Nineteen
It took the rest of the night to get everything straightened out. Darcy got Joe LeBlanc’s permission to store some of the meat in the freezer at the Rose since it was close, and Chico put the rest in the walk-in at the Faro. Chico offered the King and Darcy the empty side of his duplex, although he didn’t have any furniture there, but the two decided to go to Darcy’s place instead. Once Chico and Andy were alone, he offered to go to his place to get cleaned up instead of messing up her shower, but she gave him a look that would have seared the hide off a less confident man.
He took that as a no.
He managed to wash off most of the mud, hoping he wasn’t doing any lasting damage to her plumbing. If he did, he’d corral his cousin the plumber over in Kerrville. He figured he owed her for the unnecessary distress. He’d seen her expression when she’d come barreling down that muddy hill toward him.
She’d been terrified. For him. His chest clenched tight remembering, even though there’d been no need for it. He hadn’t gotten hurt, just a face full of mud.
He came back into her bedroom, toweling off his hair. Fortunately, he had some clean underwear in her dresser.
Andy lay on the bed in her nightgown, watching him, one arm flung behind her head so that her breasts rose up beneath the thin cotton. This time more than his chest tightened.
“You should get some sleep,” he muttered. “You’re the one who has to get up and go to work later. And your office is likely to get a lot of calls about the flood.”
“You scared me to death,” she said softly. “I don’t think I’ve ever been that frightened before. Over anybody.”
“It wasn’t…” He paused—no reason to insult her. She’d been frightened. For him. “I know it looked scary, but it wasn’t so bad. Just messy. Thank you, though.”
“Thank me for what?”
He gave her a slightly wry grin. “For giving enough of a damn about me to care that I ended up in the mud.”
She blinked, her forehead furrowing. “I love you.”
Chico froze, staring. His heart thumped hard. “What?”
“You heard me.” The corners of her mouth edged up. “I love you, Chico.”
He sat down heavily on the side of the bed, still staring down at her. “I don’t think anyone has ever said that to me who wasn’t already related.”
“I don’t know why not.” She took a deep breath. “It’s true. I’m sorry if it bothers you.”
He shook his head slowly. “It doesn’t bother me. It clarifies things. Sort of.”
“Clarifies how?” She turned toward him, resting her head on her hand.
“Clarifies…things. Like we should get married.” He hadn’t known he was going to say that until he did.
“We
should?” She didn’t sound opposed, just a little surprised.
“Yeah.” He sighed. “I guess we need to do some other stuff first, though.”
She nodded. “Get the license, find someone to perform the ceremony. I guess we could do it at the County Clerk’s office, though. I know the County Clerk, as a matter of fact.”
“I was thinking more along the lines of letting our families know,” he said dryly.
“Oh. Yeah.” She grimaced. “Well, you’ve met Eddie. You need to meet Lorraine too, I guess. That’s pretty much it for me anymore.”
He sighed again. “I’m related to half the county, but we can start with my folks. They’ll probably take care of the rest of it. Be prepared to meet more people than you’ll be able to remember in this lifetime.”
“Okay.” She nodded again. “We can sort this all out later. Let’s get some sleep for now.”
“Right.” He pulled down the sheet, then turned back to her. “One thing, though.”
One eyebrow went up. “What’s that?”
“I love you too. And that’s definitely the first time I’ve said that to someone who wasn’t already related.”
She broke into one of those luminous grins that did odd things to his chest. “Very good to hear. Now get some sleep.”
Harris guided Darcy’s SUV up the road to his place. He hadn’t wanted to come, hadn’t really wanted to see what was left of his business, but the fact that he hadn’t wanted to had goaded him into doing it. Darcy was working lunch and dinner, although LeBlanc had given her breakfast off since she’d had a late night.
Risking her life and all.
He blew out a breath, pulling the car to a stop at the top of the small hill that led down to the bridge. No point in driving down there and getting stuck in the mud again. Even though the sun was shining, the ground hadn’t dried yet. And given that the humidity felt like he was encased in marshmallow, he doubted the road was going to dry out any time soon. At least the water level had gone down fairly quickly. Apparently, only the back country had been hit by the floods. That same back country where he lived and had his business.
He picked his way gingerly down the slope, then stared at the bridge. Water still flowed around the ends, but it was shallow now and slower. The bridge itself was clogged with debris underneath—tree limbs, barnyard trash, and some miscellaneous stuff that looked hauntingly familiar. After a moment he recognized his lawn furniture and part of the bench from the cypress tree.
He’d have to clean it out once the water level went back down to make sure the bridge didn’t give way. Just another thing on his to-do list.
He glanced up at the trailer that should have been well above the water. The skirting around the bottom had gaping holes where sections had torn away. He took another deep breath and blew it out, suddenly glad he’d come by himself. He didn’t think he wanted anybody else around right now, even Darcy.
The interior of the trailer wasn’t as bad as he’d thought it might be. It looked like the water had mainly flowed underneath with some seepage through the doors and windows. The floors were slightly muddy, but he couldn’t see any water damage. At least he’d had the good sense to turn off the electricity before they’d left the night before. Still, he’d need to get a professional to check it over before he tried turning the power back on.
He headed up the road to the kitchen building, his boots sinking into sucking mud. The brush alongside was full of debris and the weeds were rolled flat on the ground, but the building was still standing. He took a moment to study it. He’d been ready for broken walls and a missing roof, but the cement blocks had managed to withstand the force of the river even though the watermarks were a third of the way up the sides. For once he was glad he hadn’t had windows put in since they’d probably have been blown out by the pressure. But he figured that was the only thing he could be thankful for.
The door had been forced open, letting the water flow inside. A few inches still remained on the floor, along with several inches of mud. The appliances were history. He’d already accepted that that would be true. The real question would be the plumbing and the electricity. It looked like the drain had backed up in spite of his attempts to block it. Muddy water filled the sinks and overflowed onto the counters. Pans and stainless steel bowls from the lower cabinets lay in crumpled heaps along the far wall. The upper cabinets where he kept his staples appeared untouched, but he figured he’d have to wait a few days to see if the wood warped from the moisture. The contents would have to be pitched—the humidity would have ruined everything.
He stepped back outside again, pausing to gather himself together, then heading toward the lean-to. Might as well see it all, as long as he was doing an inspection. One of the smokers lay halfway down the road, smashed against a tree trunk. Another lay crumpled against one of the support pillars for the lean-to. The third smoker might be salvageable since he’d anchored it to the side, but he figured it would take several days for it to dry out. And the mixture of ashes and water might corrode the metal more quickly.
He managed to drag this last remaining smoker out onto the flats where the sun could hit it, then drained off the water in the fire box and the smoker body. He wished now he’d brought along some towels to clean out the remains of ashes in the fire box.
Something else to consider when he came back tomorrow. If he came back tomorrow.
He squared his jaw and looked up the hillside. Some of the logs were still where they’d thrown them, maybe half. The rest had probably been washed down by the runoff. Probably soaking in the river by now and useless.
Harris sank down on a stump at the side of the lean-to. He’d need a new freezer, a new refrigerator, and a new stove, along with possible electrical and plumbing repairs. To say nothing of the cleanup on the trailer and the kitchen. He’d also need new smokers, and he’d have to check the wood supply. The stuff he’d stacked in Chico’s truck might get him through the rest of the year, but he wasn’t sure what would happen after that. He’d probably need to be re-inspected by the health department too, just to get re-certified to sell food.
What little money he’d been able to save over the past two years would be gone overnight. And his prospects for expanding the business were pretty remote.
The cook-off suddenly seemed like a joke. Hell, he couldn’t even get his food truck up and running without a place to smoke his meat and something to smoke it in, let alone produce award-winning barbecue up against several dozen other cooks. He had the portable smoker that was attached to the food truck, but it wasn’t big enough to do the briskets the way he’d been doing them.
Right now the real question was whether he’d ever be able to open again. He doubted his insurance would pay off since he didn’t have a flood rider. It had seemed unnecessary during an extended drought. His luck was running true to form.
You could tap into the trust.
He closed his eyes. No, he couldn’t. The trust came with conditions, and those conditions would shut him down just as thoroughly as the flood had.
You could give up and go back to work for the firm. Then try again in a few years.
And watch his soul wither up to the size of persimmon.
Poor you. Poor, pitiful you.
Harris gritted his teeth. That voice in his head could be really annoying sometimes. It could also be dead right.
He stared at the smoker sitting out in the sunlight then pushed himself to his feet. He purely hated people who sat around feeling sorry for themselves, and he sure as bedamned wasn’t going to be one of them himself. He might get beaten by circumstances, but he wasn’t going to beat himself.
The first thing to do would be to call Chico and see what they could set up for the cook-off, maybe see if the portable smoker could be modified enough to work. Maybe they could drag the one remaining full-size smoker back to town. It didn’t look too bad—a few dents and some mud. He could fiddle with it.
The second thing would be to talk to LeBlanc and see
if he could leave the meat in his freezer for a few more days (and cancel the meat delivery scheduled for next week). After the cook-off he’d try to find someplace else to store it, although at the moment he didn’t have a clue where that might be. He’d also need to find some place he could cook, maybe see if he could rent out some cooking space at the Faro and see if they had space in their walk-in for his supplies. He could use the truck for sides and maybe he could set up the smoker in Darcy’s backyard.
Assuming Darcy was still in. He grimaced again. Of course she’s still in. Thinking she’d drop out over something like this was an insult to everybody concerned.
The third thing he needed to do was start working on his brisket for Saturday because he had just chosen to win that motherfucker. He might not be able to do much about this fucking disaster, but he could do that.
“Nobody beats the King in a cook-off,” he muttered. “Fucking nobody.”
He started back across the meadow just as he heard someone call “Harris” from the bridge.
He paused, squinting in the morning sunlight. His brother was standing at the far end. He waved. “Over here.”
Harris pushed his cowboy hat more firmly onto his head, striding back across the meadow. “Morning, Gray.”
Gray was frowning as he stepped gingerly around the mud. He was wearing wingtips, Harris noted. Maybe he hadn’t realized just how much flood damage there was back here. “I heard this part of the county got flooded last night. I was worried. I tried to call you, but I kept getting your voice mail. Are you okay?” He navigated the final stretch of the bridge.
Harris shrugged. “Yeah. Sure. My cell phone went dead because I left the charger out here.” He tried a grin, but gave up quickly.
“What about your trailer?”
“It survived.”
“What about…everything else?” Gray frowned as if he were trying to figure out what “everything else” covered.
“I’ve got some major damage. I’ll have to sort everything out next week.”