That Stubborn Yankee

by Carla Neggers

  “Got it down at Bert’s?” Adam asked suspiciously.

  “No, not yet.”

  “What’s wrong with it?” Julian inquired, walking up beside Adam. “Must be pretty bad if you can’t fix it yourself.”

  “Look, you two, if I want your help, I’ll ask. Adam, what did Sessoms tell you?”

  “Same thing he said to you, I imagine. Harlan missed a brunch date with his mother. There was a report he’d taken a beating, and he hasn’t been seen since Saturday. Sessoms thought: he’d start looking here, because of your stake in Stubborn Yankee. Beth? You okay?”

  “Sure. As I said, Harlan will come out of whatever he’s gotten himself into just fine. It’s certainly no concern of mine.”

  Beth wondered why Sessoms hadn’t mentioned the beating to her. Good-ol’-boy camaraderie? Spare the little lady the sordid details? Possible, but unlikely. Suddenly she wasn’t so sure she trusted Jimmy Sessoms. Maybe she should find Harlan before anyone else did.

  But to what end? Why did she care?

  She cared about her car. Maybe Harlan could manage on his own without her help. She doubted he’d look after a battered, twenty-five-year-old automobile.

  Harlan pulled over at a windy rest stop off 1-81 near Scranton, Pennsylvania. The Chevrolet was running like a top, but he needed coffee, ice, sleep and painkillers. His condition was a vast improvement over early Tuesday morning, when he had practically crawled to Beth’s house. If he’d collapsed and died en route, it was comforting to know she would have kicked a clod of dirt over him and gone about her business. He wouldn’t want to put her out by having her grieve over him.

  The woman was the hardest-hearted Yankee he had ever known. That he had turned to her in his hour of deepest need had only seemed to irritate her. Well, he couldn’t exactly blame her.

  He stumbled from her old bomb of a car and made his way to the men’s room, where he splashed cold water onto his face and considered his reflection. Gray-skinned and unshaven, his face looked like that of a derelict. Certainly not that of one of the mid-south’s most eligible men. No wonder Beth had sent him packing, though knowing Beth as he did, he supposed that even if he’d been at his handsomest and most charming, she’d never have let him stay the night.

  He should have kept away from her in the first place. His thrashing had obviously knocked a few screws loose in his brain. First, he should have known Beth would toss him out on his ear. Secondly, he had no business involving her in his problems.

  He bought himself two chocolate bars and a cola before trudging back to the car. He sat on the trunk, hoping that the warm sun and breeze would ease his pain and frustration.

  “Oh, Beth,” he said aloud.

  The candy bars and soda consumed, he slid off the car.

  It has to be done. No choice.

  He tossed his trash into a nearby receptacle, headed back to the rest area building and located a pay phone. The gentlemen who’d pounded his face in had also relieved him of his personal items—except for the overnight case which they hadn’t seen—but he had his long-distance credit card number memorized. He dialed the number for Mill Brook Post and Beam.

  A receptionist answered and transferred him to Adam Stiles.

  “You got out of town with your hide intact, I take it,” Adam said dryly.

  “Barely.”

  “I haven’t seen Beth in such a lousy mood since you two were married.”

  There was no amusement in Adam’s tone. Harlan said nothing for the moment, wishing the pain would go away. All of it. The bruises, the mistakes, the ache he felt whenever he thought about Beth. Against his better judgment, he’d stopped by Mill Brook Post and Beam that morning. It was a case of either going there, robbing a gas station or slinking back to Beth’s in defeat—he needed cash. Adam had given him what he had and asked no questions, seeming to know instinctively that Harlan would sort out whatever mess he was in before returning to Mill Brook.

  Harlan only wished he’d asked Adam for a car, as well. The vision of Beth diving for her Chevrolet was one that would haunt him for a long, long time.

  “What does she know?” Adam asked.

  He willed himself to be coherent and concise. Exhaustion, pain and worry were all taking their toll. “Nothing.”

  “Harlan, maybe you should tell me what’s going on. You’re in trouble, I know. I saw your face.”

  “It’s a long story.” He wasn’t going into it now. He’d called Adam for one reason. Several hundred miles of solitary driving had helped clear his head. He knew what he had to do. “A P.I. from Nashville was looking for me at Beth’s place yesterday.”

  “Jimmy Sessoms. He was looking for you here, too. Something wrong with him?”

  ‘‘Not that I know of. However, if he thought to look for me in Mill Brook, so could ... others.”

  “Like the meats who beat you up?” Adam’s voice was deadly serious.

  Harlan briefly shut his eyes. “Yes.”

  After a long silence, Adam said, “I see.”

  “Beth doesn’t know anything, Adam. Not where I am, what this is all about. Nothing. These people might not believe that. They play hardball. If they find her...”

  “They won’t.”

  Harlan sank against the phone booth in relief. “Thanks.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’ll be fine. I have a better idea of what I’m dealing with now. I won’t be fooled twice.”

  “Doesn’t seem to me you can afford to be. I’m here if you need me.”

  “Thanks.”

  Hanging up, Harlan felt his sugar and caffeine intake start to kick in. Beth wouldn’t approve of what he had done, but he’d had to do it. No fool, Adam would know better than to tell his sister that her ex-husband had asked him to watch out for her. No one looked after Beth Stiles but Beth Stiles herself. She’d made that very clear years ago. Adam would be discreet, and Beth safe. That was the bottom line. Right now, that was all that counted.

  Mission accomplished.

  Now on to the next one.

  Hoping against hope Beth waited for a phone call asking her to come pick up her abandoned car. None came. That meant Harlan hadn’t just borrowed her Chevy for a bit. He’d definitely stolen it. Nor was there a phone call from Harlan himself apologizing and telling her what was going on and that he was all right.

  Jimmy Sessoms, Eleanor and Taylor Rockwood apparently didn’t think to call her, either.

  Well, they could all just stew in their own juices. She was going on with her life.

  She hitched a ride with one of the sawyers and left work early.

  Once home, she took off for a long, exhausting run. A quick dinner and the company of her cats and dogs improved her mood. Really, she was doing the right thing. Going after Harlan and her car had seemed rational this morning, but the quiet of the hot afternoon had restored her common sense.

  She fed the chickens and hummed to herself as she felt the freshness of a north wind on her cheeks. A Canadian high was moving in, pushing out the heat and humidity. Maybe she’d even stop fantasizing about steamy southern nights and smooth-talking, southern gentlemen. She climbed onto a huge, granite boulder at one side of the chicken coop and let the wind swirl around her.

  She spotted Julian’s truck halfway around the bend and stopped humming. Her brothers had been acting decidedly weird and secretive all afternoon. What if they knew something they weren’t telling her?

  What?

  “Why speculate,” she muttered, “when you can ask?”

  With a couple of dogs in tow, she marched down to the end of her driveway, onto the dirt road and around the bend. She shushed the dogs as they came upon Julian’s truck. They paid her no attention. They were developing a bad habit of barking when she didn’t want them to bark.

  Julian already had poked his head out the window by the time she got there. “Nice evening.”

  “Why are you spying on me?”

  “I’m not spying. I’m just figuring what kind o
f post-and-beam house I’d build where your shack is.”

  She hooted in disbelief. “Don’t lie to me, Julian. You’ve heard from Harlan, haven’t you?”

  “No.”

  “Adam has, then.”

  Julian stared at her and yawned. Beth peered into the truck and noted the baseball bat propped up against the seat. An icy trickle started down her back, but she suppressed her uneasiness.

  “Got a game tonight?” She nodded casually at the bat. Julian enjoyed an occasional turn at home plate with a coed softball team his enterprising wife had put together. When he shook his head, Beth leaned into the window. “Julian, I’m not going home until I get a straight answer. Why are you spying on me?”

  “It’s not a question of spying.”

  “If you’re not spying, then what?” She stopped and glanced again at the bat, recalling Harlan’s cuts and bruises. “I’ll be damned. You’re protecting me, aren’t you? You think whoever beat up Harlan might come for me. Damn that man! And you and Adam, too. You have no right to sneak around my house like the secret service and not tell me what’s going on.” She took a deep breath to calm herself. “When did he call? Or is he holed up at your place tonight? I should have known you men would stick together.”

  Julian gazed at her calmly. “Talk to Adam if you want answers. He asked me to take a shift keeping an eye on you. He said you’d opened up another can of worms with Harlan and could end up with some heavies coming after you.”

  “How charming of him to warn me, too.” Her sarcasm was apparently lost on Julian, who simply shrugged. She pointed down Maple Street, toward the mountains. “On your way, Julian. I can take care of myself.”

  “No way. If I left and something happened to you...”

  ‘‘You’d never forgive yourself. Too bad.”

  He grinned. “No, I’d hate to have to face Adam. He’s taking the night shift at ten. Talk to him then.”

  They weren’t going to budge. Obviously they believed her personal safety was threatened. She probably wouldn’t stand a chance with whoever had beaten up Harlan. Unfortunately, neither would Julian or Adam.

  “There’s no point in you two suffering any more than you have to on my account.” She straightened. “Hang on a few seconds, while I throw some stuff together. I can camp out at your place tonight, and we can all sleep better.”

  She called Adam from Julian’s house in the woods. Only because she needed information did she remain civil. “You heard from Harlan?”

  “Beth, he shouldn’t have involved you in whatever mess he’s in. He knows that now. All you need to do is lay low for a while, until this thing cools off.”

  “Where is he?”

  “He didn’t say.”

  “He still has my car?”

  Beth heard Adam hiss with impatience. “Nobody cares about your car.”

  “I do.”

  “Beth... Look, î didn’t want to have to sneak around your back or withhold information, but you’re not rational where Harlan’s concerned. God knows, you have reason not to be. Julian and I are just trying to help.”

  “Help whom?”

  “You, of course.”

  “Looks to me like you’re helping Harlan.”

  Adam mumbled something that didn’t sound at all pleasant. “He called again tonight, if you must know. He says your car’s running like a top, and he’ll have it back to you as soon as he can. He wouldn’t tell me where he is. He’s not in Vermont, okay? Let this one lie for a while, Beth. Get some sleep and relax.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do.” She slammed down the phone.

  Julian and Holly had the good sense to back off and leave her to her own devices after Julian had pointed out the six-pack of beer cooling in the refrigerator. Beth grabbed one and shook open the sleeping bag her sister-in-law had left on the living-room couch. She felt bad about snapping at her brothers. They were helping her out, however ineptly. Had anyone ever known what to do or say where she and Harlan were concerned?

  “Harlan, where are you?”

  The answer, or perhaps the suggestion of a possibility, came to her in a decade-old dream. She dreamed of Coffee County—a place she had come to love as much as the river and woods of Vermont where she had grown up. When she awoke from the dream, she was strangely agitated, longing to be back in her dream. Throwing off the sleeping bag, Beth padded into the kitchen and splashed herself with cool water. She pulled on a sweater, jeans and sneakers.

  She found the key to Julian’s Land Rover hanging next to the side entrance. She scrawled a note and attached it to the door.

  I’m off after Harlan. I need to know what’s going on. Don’t worry. If anybody was after me, I’d know by now. Tell Adam I’ll be in touch. Thanks for your concern. I’ll be okay.

  Love, Beth.

  The sound of the Rover starting up was enough to wake the dead. Julian opened his bedroom window and yelled something unintelligible at her. She shut the driver’s side window and let him yell. Maybe Holly would talk him out of chasing after her.

  Then again, maybe she wouldn’t.

  Beth dropped into third, braced herself for a rough ride and peeled out.

  Halfway between Julian’s house and the mill, she pulled off the road and skidded behind an abandoned red barn. Seconds later, Julian’s truck blew past her like the proverbial bat out of hell.

  “Sometimes I hate being the little sister.”

  Beth loosened her grip on the steering wheel and took the long way round to the interstate.

  Chapter Four

  ‘‘She took off,” Adam Stiles said, his fury—fury at Beth and now at Harlan—clearly audible over the phone lines.

  Harlan squinted against the haze of a Tennessee morning and digested what Adam had told him. He could understand the other man’s frustration. Time after time Harlan had vowed that he wouldn’t let Beth get to him. And time after time she had. The woman was thoroughly unreasonable.

  “What do you mean, she took off? Took off where?”

  “After you, I should think.”

  Harlan suddenly became aware of a jump in his heartbeat at the prospect of Beth chasing after him. The response was logical in its way. His heartbeat would quicken if a tiger were after him, too.

  “She’s crazy,” he snapped. “She hasn’t the vaguest idea where I am. Anyway, you can’t be right. She was ready to give me the boot yesterday morning, I left before she got the chance.”

  There was a moment’s silence on the Vermont end of the line. “You shouldn’t have stolen her car.”

  “I needed transportation.”

  “I’d have loaned you a car, Harlan, no questions asked, anything to keep you from sending my sister off the deep end. She claims she has no feelings left for you. Yet from her recent behavior, it doesn’t appear to be so.”

  “She hates my guts.”

  “Is that what you really believe? Char told me about you two at Bert’s yesterday morning. Beth regards your stealing her car as a deliberate affront.”

  “She’s wrong.” Harlan’s jaw lightened. Was Beth out of her mind? How could she have seen it as anything but a desperate act? “I had to get away. Adam— you’re sure she left of her own accord?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Harlan could hear the sharpness in Adam’s voice. “No one... grabbed her, I hope?”

  “No.” Adam’s tone was deadly cool. There wasn’t a single Stiles whom Harlan could care to cross. “Julian heard her leaving and attempted to catch up with her. Taking off was her idea. Harlan, talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.”

  “You must find her.”

  “Harlan—”

  He hung up abruptly hoping Adam wasn’t going to sic the entire state of Vermont onto him. He rubbed his stiff neck and breathed in the smell of freshly cut grass. He was on his own turf. It wasn’t much of an edge, but right now, it was all he had.

  “I JUST WANTED to let you know I’m fine,” Beth told Adam from a pay phone in northern Virg
inia. It was hot. The Rover’s worn shocks had made for a bouncy ride, and doubts had begun to creep into her consciousness about the wisdom of her impulsive decision. Why go after an ex-husband she was well rid of and a car that had seen its best days two decades ago? She had no rational answer.

  “Don’t worry about me. Just consider this a long-overdue vacation.”

  “Beth,” Adam said tightly, “you’re out of your mind. Let Harlan solve his own problems.”

  “Who says I want to solve his problems? I want my car back.”

  She heard Adam sigh. “Who do you think you’re kidding? If anyone but Harlan Rockwood had stolen that car of yours, you’d be collecting your insurance.”

  His words cut close to the bone. “It’s not insured against theft. Don’t meddle, brother, and don’t bother thanking me for having the courtesy to call.”

  She slammed down the phone before Adam could explode. She was tired, cranky and not sure why she’d bothered to call him in the first place. Courtesy? Not likely. The truth was that she’d had to find out if he’d heard from Harlan.

  Her back ached from the marathon session behind the wheel. Julian’s Land-Rover was no treat to drive. It smelled of grease and sawdust. He wasn’t nearly as scrupulous about keeping his vehicles in smooth running order as she was. His primary concern was that they started. Details like shock absorbers and brake pads meant nothing to him.

  Resisting the candy and soda machines, Beth did a few stretching exercises before heading back to the Rover. She hadn’t eaten in hours, But hunger gave her an edge, she thought, that helped keep her alert. Harlan had enough of a head start on her as it was.

  Feeling the heat, she climbed in. She took a swig from her water jug and cranked up the Rover.

  Adam was right. She was nuts.

  “Nothing yet?”

  The long, long drive south had exhausted Harlan more than he would ever have guessed. The fatigue penetrated his very bones. He hurt. God, he hurt. Now he was deep in the Cumberland Mountains, in the cool, still air of dusk. Almost there. Close to quiet, safety and a soft bed.