You can knock me down, she’d said to that one then, her hands clenched at her sides, but I’ll keep getting up. No matter how many times you knock me down, I’ll get back up.
She had.
It had been hopeless, but still she’d tried, had fought. She’d lost then, but she had won, too. He’d never bothered her again.
She couldn’t defend herself at home then, but she could here. Here she could fight.
As she could face these boys.
“I can’t take you all,” she said firmly, “but I can take one of you and bring down a serious case of whoop ass on him before the rest of you take me down. I’ll visit some serious hurt on one of you. Who wants to go first?”
They’d hurt her dog, terrified Fair, just out of meanness. No, even worse, out of boredom.
She’d seen the expensive truck, heard its motor rumble as she stood there, its headlights spearing into the darkness, the backwash of that light illuminating the paddock.
They’d done it because they could, because they were rich and bored and because Daddy would get them out of it.
“Come on, tough guys,” she said. “Come and get me. Surely you can take me? I dare you. Or wasn’t your tae-kwan-do classes enough?”
There was a place in town, on the Square, that taught karate to those who had enough money to afford it. For all the talk that the martial arts were a philosophy, she’d found that the mindset of bullies trumped it.
One of them flinched, but automatically tried to take a stance.
Suddenly, all the lights around the paddock and yard flashed on. Beth could see each face clearly as Josh came out of the house at a dead run wearing nothing but jeans.
Josh was stunned.
The sound of the barking had awakened him, but the sound of Beth’s voice, the alarm in it, had galvanized him.
A glance out the window as he pulled on his jeans confirmed it as he saw her running through the darkness, her nightgown flashing white in the harsh glow of the headlights. It fluttered around her ankles as she ran, and that image had him racing for the door. He’d had just enough of a look to see the drunken boys, the big black pickup half in the ditch by his front fence.
Then he’d heard the puppy yelp.
Wolf.
He pictured the fluffy puppy too easily and cringed inside at the thought of what had made him cry out like that.
Fury flashed through him.
Snatching up the phone as he went past the counter where he’d left it, he hit speed dial for 911 even as he went through the front door, snapping off instructions as they answered and he ran past the barn.
They were closing on her, drunk enough and mean enough to do serious damage.
With a snap of his wrist he sent his cell phone spinning into the darkness as he jumped for and vaulted the fence.
Furious, enraged, he snatched the rake out of Beth’s hands to put himself between her, Fair, and the drunken boys. He couldn’t see the puppy.
If they hadn’t been boys – although the older two had to be either eighteen or close enough to it, and so old enough to know better, the biggest one obviously the ringleader – he would have beaten the crap out of them.
He could have, even four against one.
Growing up he’d been small until he hit a growth spurt at thirteen and shot up in height. Even so, in the years before he’d been bullied a lot until he joined the Golden Gloves.
He knew kids like these, had known them then and later, football players when school was in session, their size giving them a confidence they hadn’t earned. He remembered them from when he’d played football himself, the smallest guy on the team. But the most determined. He’d earned his letter as some of the others hadn’t.
It was the youngest one, a skinny kid who reminded him too much of himself at that age, young, impressionable, that gave him pause even in the face of the eldest’s sneer. That older kid needed a taste of what he dished out and Josh was big enough to do it now, but that younger one… That was a different story. What would it teach him?
Just because he could beat them, Josh didn’t need to. It would be enough with that older one to make him back down, to give that arrogant rich kid’s pride a good kick, make him realize there were people bigger and tougher than he was.
He looked at the eldest two.
“You’re good with puppies and women, do you think you can take me?” he said in disgust.
Beth thought she’d never seen anything like it in her life.
For the first time someone was fighting for her.
Josh glared at the boys, magnificent in his fury, his lean body taut with anger.
Looking at him standing there, so calm, sure, and so furious, but in control, she found she wasn’t afraid anymore. She thought she’d never seen anything so incredible, pride just swelled inside her. In a corner of her mind she was conscious of how beautiful he looked in the harsh white light, of the way his firmly muscled body looked, wearing only jeans, his feet bare.
Both of the bigger boys bristled. One of the two younger ones looked scared. The other looked ashamed.
As they looked at Josh, though, at the rake held firmly in his hands, at his muscled body and the calm, certain look in his eyes, the two eldest suddenly wilted, backed off.
“Take off,” Josh snapped. “I called the sheriff, he’s on his way.”
That was what did it. One of the boys swore softly. Fear and horror were laced through his voice.
“My dad’s going to kill me,” he said.
The others suddenly looked panicked. The one broke and ran.
That was all it took. The others broke and fled.
Josh tossed the rake after them, turned and yanked Beth into the safety of his arms.
In all his life he’d never been so scared as that moment when she’d put herself between his horse and those boys. Drunk and mean, they’d been capable of anything.
In that moment, he’d also known she understood those boys might kill her by accident, out of spite, or fear, or anger, but she’d still done it. Had stood and faced them down.
She’d been beautiful, impressive and completely insane.
He understood then how much danger she’d faced and, knowing what he knew of her, he thought he’d never seen anything so beautiful, so courageous.
There was nothing, nothing, more important to him than she was.
In that moment, holding her close, he knew just how much in love with her he was, as delicate, desperate and fragile as she was.
He clasped her to him, cupped a hand around her head.
In all his life he had never seen anything so incredible, so brave and so incredibly stupid. That thought echoed through him.
Threading his fingers through her soft hair, he held her against him as the truck peeled away with a screech of tires.
He was incredibly conscious of her body beneath the thin white cotton of her nightgown, of her cheek against the bare skin of his chest, but he was also aware of the life in his arms, of the woman in them. Of the precious gift she was and he held her all the more tightly.
“Wolf!” she cried and broke away to carefully gather the broken body of the puppy in her arms.
She turned to look at Josh as her face crumpled and tears glimmered, bright in the lights.
In the distance Josh heard the sound of a siren as he gathered her close again. Her and Wolf, the fluffy puppy hair so soft against the bare skin of his chest.
“He’s still alive, he’s still breathing,” she said.
Chapter Thirteen
As in many small towns, the courthouse was large and ornate in comparison to the rest of the town, with massive Corinthian columns. The building faced out over the town green with its bandstand where once upon a time politicians had stumped and fireworks had been set off on the summer holidays. The town had only one main street, called Main, which split to circle the green the locals called the Square. Few politicians stumped there now and the fireworks had been moved out to the County Fairgr
ounds where it was safer. Attempts had been made to bring bands back to the bandstand – really a large pavilion – but after a while those efforts had died out for lack of attendance. With the advent of the big box stores out by the interstate highway, the town was dying by slow degrees. If you looked hard you could see the name of the old department store that had once been the mainstay of the town in the darker patches on the wood of the old boarded-up storefront, but soon that would be gone as well.
The town council had found just enough money in the budget to pay for the flowers that decorated the light posts around the Square in an attempt to attract businesses to the now-empty shops that lined it. Those flowers were maintained by one of the women’s clubs.
The Square still boasted the one remaining decent hardware store. Not one of those big bright ones out by the highway with the rest, but the old style, close and dark kind where the owner could find things the big box stores didn’t stock.
The main building of the courthouse was an impressive gray edifice in the colonial style with its classic Greek elements, a pediment above the entry with its depiction of the founding fathers, the veranda faced with those Corinthian pillars. The building was constantly in need of repair and there was always work of some kind going on to fix it. Years before enough money had been found in the budget to add on a newer section at the back, so now only the courtrooms were still in use in main courthouse itself.
Beth knew one of those courtrooms well.
One indelible memory – of the day when she’d been taken her away from her parents.
They’d led her to one of the offices in the new section, had asked her to tell why she had the bruises, the marks of whippings. They’d touched the welts and scars. A nurse had treated them.
There had been a hearing of some kind, before a judge. Her parents hadn’t attended. And then they’d driven her away to that other place. Before Ruth.
Inside the courthouse the halls were narrow and crowded with folks seated on benches awaiting their turn before the judge, but Josh had his arm around Beth’s waist. She was conscious of his strength, his steadiness. She needed it. Memories crowded.
Even as they stood waiting for the arraignment, Wolf was in surgery at the vet’s and she wasn’t there with him, she was here. They were needed to identify the boys who’d hurt him.
A bailiff led them into the courtroom, to find all of the boys in orange jumpsuits.
It hadn’t been hard to find them, to catch them, that late at night. Few cars were on the road at that hour, much less one like that big, black monster. The sheriff had taken off after them in his county car, lights flashing.
The richer kids looked only a little scared as they were led out in handcuffs. They were also confident, almost cocky, certain that Daddy – whoever he was – would get them off.
Beth was stunned by the look on the face of one of the younger ones. The one who’d looked ashamed the night before.
He wasn’t like the others and he was so young, so scared, trying to man up, but the fear was in his eyes as they led him down the hall. His momma half stood as he went by and she reached out, trying to call her boy back, to undo what he’d done. It was clear that he’d been trying to fit in with the others.
The boy ducked his head in shame.
By her clothes his mother wasn’t rich, but she’d given her son the best she could. It was visible in his clothes, in the fancy running shoes on his feet. At a guess, she was a single mom, struggling to make ends meet and he was all she had. She’d tried to give him what he needed to succeed, had thought that clothes would do it, when her example should have been enough.
Tragedy on tragedy.
Beth looked at Josh, saw him watching the boys as well, the expression in his eyes troubled. His gaze met hers.
How many times have I seen boys like them, all of them? Josh wondered, shaking his head.
He’d grown up with kids like these, rich kids who hadn’t done a lick of real work in their lives, who’d made fun of him because Josh’s father was a farmer. It didn’t matter that his dad had been well-respected in the community, in school all that mattered was that he worked in the dirt.
Town kids versus country.
After his father had died and his mother had been forced to sell the farm, it had gotten even worse, because then they made fun of him because he was poor.
These kids were much the same.
All but the one.
Josh looked at the boy. He’d known kids like him, too, and remembered one in particular.
They’d been good friends until Greg had decided he wanted to be friends with the in-crowd, with the wild ones, the ones who had the fancy cars, the four-wheelers and other toys, the ones who got drunk, ran the roads, and tipped cows for fun. Unfortunately, Greg hadn’t been rich so when one of their pranks had gone bad it had been Greg who’d gone to jail while the other kids had gotten off.
Josh looked down at Beth, her face pale, but her eyes clear.
“You have something in mind?” he asked.
With a nod she walked down the hall to the bailiff with Josh beside her.
“I need to talk to the judge,” she said.
The judge was a hard-faced man, adamant, but he called the attorneys and the public defender in for a talk. It was easy to tell who represented who by their clothing.
“Give him to me for six months,” Beth said about the younger one.
“We want all of them,” Josh said. “I’ll take the others, have them work for me. It’s better than jail, and maybe they’ll learn something, like the value of hard work. I’ll pay them a decent wage.”
His face grim, the judge looked at the lawyers. “They want to deal. I’d take it if I were you. This isn’t the first time I’ve had some of these boys in front of me. I’m inclined to throw the book at them.”
One of the lawyers started to speak, but the judge silenced him with a glare.
“I hope you’re not about to say what I think you’re going to say,” he said tightly. “You tell Martin he’d better take this deal or that boy of his is going to a have a record he’ll carry the rest of his life. He’s just old enough to be tried as an adult. How do you think a jury will look at him hurting that horse and kicking a puppy so hard it needed a vet?”
When the lawyer subsided, the judge nodded. “That’s what I thought.”
He looked at Josh.
“Their wages will go to pay for the vet bill.”
Josh nodded.
The youngest boy’s name was Tyler. He was thirteen, a tow-headed gangly boy with hazel-green eyes. At the moment he looked numb, trying to figure it all out, knowing he was in trouble, and uncertain what would happen next.
He was silent as they walked out of the courthouse, but he didn’t shrug off Beth’s arm when she laid it over his shoulders.
His mother met them outside the courthouse.
“Miss…,” she began, looking at Beth.
There was hope on her face, gratitude.
With a soft smile, Beth shook her head as they walked toward Josh’s truck. She wasn’t ready to talk yet. All she could think about now was Wolf, about getting back to her dog.
She had shut everything else down, refusing to think of what came next.
“It’ll be all right,” Josh said to the woman. “We’ll bring him home this afternoon.”
Josh had his hand around Beth’s waist as they walked to his truck.
The vet’s office was a long low building, a mix of brick and vinyl siding, a little worn at the edges, institutional.
Beth looked at Josh as they walked toward it.
He slipped his hand into hers as she looked at Tyler.
“It’ll be all right” she said, echoing Josh’s words to Tyler’s mother. “No matter what happens. But you should know there are consequences to your actions. Don’t let it define you, define who you are, but there are always consequences and all of them, your actions and the consequences, will make you who you are, good or bad.”
He is so young.
Barely finished.
She could see hints of the man he would be someday in his face, in the thin lines of it. She couldn’t see meanness in him, just fear and uncertainty. It had been that determination to look like a man, to try to be one in the face of his actions, that had caught at her.
She could respect that.
That look stuck with her.
He could be saved.
She wasn’t sure about the others.
Now they’d see what kind of man he would be.
The three of them walked into the vet’s office. It smelled of frightened animals.
Inside it was all tile floors and plain walls. A video played endlessly in one corner, touting a system for decreasing shedding.
They knew her, had been prepared by her phone call.
“How is he?” she asked, looking at the vet as she came out.
The woman looked tired, strained. “There were a few cracked ribs, contusions and scrapes, and the leg was broken. We think we got him. Right now he’s stable, but the next few hours will tell the tale. You can come see him if you’d like.”
Wolf lay on the table, his fur thick and dark, sedated so his bright eyes were mostly closed. His tongue lolled from his half-opened mouth. They’d shaved the dense fur around his ribs, the bandage so white against his bare skin. A cast immobilized one leg. There were tubes in him, but his chest rose and fell regularly.
She almost broke down then and there, to see him like that, so broken, so still. He was just a puppy. Too young to really understand why this had happened to him, that the world could be so unkind. He’d been so brave.
As was the boy, he was so young.
Gently she laid a hand on Wolf’s rough/soft fur, the texture both wiry and soft, and so unique to him.
She looked at the boy again, at Tyler.
“You can touch him if you’d like,” she said, her voice gentle. “His name is Wolf.”
His gaze shot to hers, startled.
She nodded.
For a moment he hesitated and then he brushed his fingers through the soft puppy hair.
The Girl in the Window Page 10