Seeking Shelter

by Angel Smits

  “Nope.”

  Katie smiled back and Amy felt her heart catch. If only all of life’s problems could be fixed with a simple cookie. She pulled one of the store-bought cookies Katie preferred out of the jar on the back counter.

  Halfway through her snack, Katie called to her again. “Mama?”

  “Yes?”

  “I have a question.”

  “I have an answer.” Amy repeated one of her mom’s old quips.

  “Mama...” This time Katie drew out the word with a long-suffering sigh and Amy laughed. “I’m serious.”

  “Okay.”

  “Since I don’t have a daddy now, is it okay if we start looking for one?”

  Amy froze and stared at her. “What?” She hadn’t really heard that, had she?

  “Can I—we—look for a dad?”

  “That’s what I thought you said.” Amy glanced away, staring out the window at the little town they called home. On a good day, Rattlesnake Bend boasted four hundred residents, including the surrounding ranches. If half were male, that’d be a stretch. Single and under the age of fifty? The numbers dwindled even further.

  The tension in Amy’s stomach eased. “It’s not like getting a puppy, you know, but, uh, sure, honey.” She reluctantly agreed, as much to appease her daughter as to get out of this conversation.

  What was with the world all of a sudden? First Hank pushing her to sell the ranch, now Katie back to wanting a dad.

  What was wrong with the way things were? Amy looked around at the store, at her daughter munching away on her cookie. She’d managed to support them for the past two years with this store. They weren’t rich, but they made it.

  No, she wasn’t ready for any changes. Things were going to stay just the way they were.

  * * *

  JACE HAD JUST PASSED the highway sign that told him Rattlesnake Bend was another twenty miles when the bike’s engine started to miss.

  Damn. He should have taken the time for the tune-up. After driving to Pennsylvania when Linc had been trapped last spring, then back to Los Angeles, he’d known the bike needed some TLC. But there hadn’t been time. Or motivation.

  Mac’s dying had been damned inconvenient.

  The bike missed again, and he cringed. He hated driving the twenty miles, pushing the bike into probable damage, but stopping out here in the middle of nowhere wasn’t an option.

  By the time he’d forced the bike to the city limits, he was worried about the engine. It finally gave up, sputtering and falling silent, a pathetic state for the Harley beast Jace loved. He’d have to push the big bike the last couple of blocks to the old-fashioned gas station up ahead.

  As he walked, Jace looked up and down the street. Rattlesnake Bend, Arizona, boasted a population of 423 if the city limit sign was to be believed. The bullet holes in the sign and a few scattered cars parked at uneven angles to the curb crowned this as Podunk, America. The Café sign said simply what it was. It probably didn’t even have a full name.

  Jace had seen town squares like this back in the Midwest with one major difference. Those communities had actual parks in the center of the square. Here, the desert provided only hard-baked dirt for a couple scraggly pines and an old, dead cottonwood that looked more like the local hanging tree than actual landscaping.

  The town was quiet as it baked in the sun. Lord, it was hot, despite it being midwinter. How did people live here in the summer?

  Sweat poured down his face as he finally stopped by the pumps. Gas wouldn’t help, but he wasn’t pushing any farther. The desert sucked.

  A man about his age came out the front door. Jace glanced up and smiled. The good-ole-boy look was still in style. Grimy ball cap, bill forward, not sideways. T-shirt beneath an unbuttoned denim shirt with one of those ovals on his left side that labeled him as Rick.

  “That’s sure one pretty bike.” The man’s gaze roamed over the Harley’s body almost as if it were a woman.

  “Yeah. You should see her when she’s cleaned up.” The chrome and denim-blue paint were covered in road dust at the moment. “She was running rough out in the desert. I let her go as far as I could.”

  “Been pushing a ways? Whatcha think’s the problem?” Rick crouched down next to the bike, peering at the engine with a practiced eye.

  “She needed a tune-up a while back. Sounds like a plug, maybe a plug wire that’s toast.” Jace knelt beside him.

  “I think it’s more than plugs, but don’t think I got this kind, anyway.” Rick leaned in closer, poking around in the compact engine. “We’d better look at the points and the generator. Nearest parts store is over in Gilcrest. That’s fifty miles. Could be a challenge to get it quick. You might be stuck for a couple days.”

  Jace cursed. Getting the bike there, or the part here, wasn’t going to be easy. And that was if it was just the plug and wires. He sighed. He wasn’t really in a hurry. There wasn’t anything or anyone waiting for him in L.A. And he had business here, anyway.

  “We got a problem?” Another man’s voice cut through the desert heat.

  “Nothing we can’t handle.” Rick stood and glared at the other man. He didn’t seem much older, but Jace couldn’t tell for sure, as a worn cowboy hat shaded his eyes. The badge on the man’s shirt proclaimed him the local law. Jace looked up at him from where he crouched.

  Jace had had enough run-ins with cops to know they either trusted you and left you alone or they didn’t—and the latter could be pure hell. He’d learned long ago to keep a low profile until he knew which kind he was dealing with. Not always the easiest thing to do, but the wisest.

  Rick interrupted Jace’s thoughts. “Gavin, quit being an ass.”

  Jace turned his attention back to the engine, but kept his ears open. He didn’t say anything. He wasn’t here to get involved with the locals, at least not these two.

  “Rick, I’m just tellin’ you. You need to be careful.”

  Rick sighed. “If this town is going to survive, we can’t chase off everyone who comes to town who doesn’t fit your standards.”

  Jace heard more than words in their conversation. He heard a history he wanted no part of.

  Ah, small towns. He’d grown up in one. Everyone knew everyone else’s business. There were no secrets, no true privacy. He’d run away from just such a place when he’d turned sixteen. He was in no hurry to go back.

  “It’s my job to keep everyone safe.” The lawman stepped closer, crowding Rick.

  “Yeah, and you’re an elected official. Screw up and we’ll vote you out of office. We need people to come here. You like them tumbleweeds blowin’ across your doorway?”

  As if on cue, one the size of a VW Bug chose that moment to meander across the wide street.

  “Shut up, Rick.” Gavin had the sense to step back. He still loomed over Jace, though. “You just watch yourself,” he said in a low voice.

  Jace resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and slowly unfolded his lanky frame. He realized that he was a good head taller than either man. “You don’t need to worry. I’ll take care of my business as soon as I can, and be on my way.”

  He didn’t explain that his business in Rattlesnake Bend was more than fixing his bike. He didn’t think good old Gavin could handle that piece of information.

  Jace had traveled five hundred miles over the past two days to get here. He was tired and hot. No local yokel was going to get in his way, but he didn’t intend to get in theirs, either.

  He took another glance around the deserted town and sighed. Just because he had the address didn’t mean Madeline Grey and her daughter were still here. He wished he’d pushed that attorney for more info, but then he’d probably still be in L.A. Behind bars, most likely.

  All the way here, he’d thought about Mac’s family, wondering what the heck to say. He still hadn’t
figured it out.

  Until he did, he wouldn’t start asking questions, even if one of these men could give him answers. He could wait a little longer. Until he knew the lay of the land and the mood of the people, he’d keep his business to himself.

  Jace stood watching as the lawman strolled away, little puffs of dust rising up behind his boot heels.

  “You can leave her here, and I’ll call over to Gilcrest to check on the parts, if you’d like,” Rick offered.

  “Thanks.” Together, they pushed the bike inside one of the bays.

  “Be a shame for something to happen to such a pretty girl.” Rick grinned as he eyed the bike with that same sense of awe. Jace almost felt sorry for the man’s wife, if he had one. She hadn’t a chance measuring up to the machine. The mechanic pulled down the old garage door to block the bike from view.

  “The diner open?” Jace didn’t remember how long ago he’d had breakfast.

  “Not till five. Lunch rush is over. Caryn heads out to her place to take care of her horses this time of day. There’s stuff over at the grocery you can eat up quick, though. Just stay away from anything in the front counter.” Rick shuddered and then laughed as he walked back into the air-conditioned glass box that served as the office for the station.

  Jace headed toward the tiny grocery store. He was surprised to see that it had a screen door, and the old Rainbow Bread sign on the handle had seen better days.

  The wood frame slapped shut behind him, and Jace blinked several times as he stepped into the comparatively dim interior. The air was blessedly cool, and he thought he’d stay right here forever. Finally, his eyes adjusted, and he was pleasantly surprised at the neatness.

  It wasn’t kitschy or frilly, as so many small-town shops were. Only the roadrunner wallpaper up near the high ceiling gave an indication anyone had tried to decorate in anything but stock and boxes.

  Three aisles lined with well-filled shelves ran the length of the building. Canned and boxed goods sat like little soldiers in neat rows.

  The counter stretched across the front, including a glass case filled with pastries and other baked goods. Next to that, a glass meat counter glistened under the fluorescent lights. A giant meat slicer and state-of-the-art steamer sat behind it.

  A young woman stood behind the displays. He wondered if she was the owner or just a clerk. She didn’t seem old enough to own a business, but looks could be deceiving. A hunk of meat lay on a wooden chopping block, and she held a cleaver in her hand. She brought the blade down with a loud whack. At first she didn’t look up. Good thing, too. It could have been disastrous.

  “Can I help you?” she asked as she turned around. Her voice was warm, but there was a wariness in her eyes. She took a step forward, keeping the counter between them.

  She wasn’t tall, but her stance was straight and proud. Her long blond hair was pulled back into a haphazard ponytail with enough pieces left loose to fall down around her face in a golden cloud. She stared at him with wide green eyes.

  She wiped her hands on a rag, and he saw that the once-white apron she wore over her jeans and T-shirt was stained with red, like the butcher he remembered Mom going to back home. A hundred years ago.

  He couldn’t help but smile. It made him think of the millions of campy horror movies he’d seen. He loved those movies. It’d been a while since he’d seen one.

  He shook his head to focus on the now. He’d spent way too much time in the sun.

  Jace squinted at her, trying to read her expression. She wasn’t old enough to be Madeline’s contemporary but maybe she knew the daughter. “Yeah. Thought I’d get some supplies.” He indicated the aisles with a tilt of his head.

  “Canned goods are on the far wall. You’ll find the snacks front middle, and beverages over there.” She waved the blade in the general direction. “If you need personal stuff, you’ll have to go see Sam down the street at the drugstore.”

  “Thanks,” Jace mumbled, and headed down the center aisle. There must be a basement under part of the wood floor, as he heard a hollow tone beneath his steps toward the rear.

  A wall-length, glass-fronted freezer stood at the very back, and he couldn’t resist opening the door. The cool air blasted him and he drank it in, letting it cool him as well as clear some of the dust from his lungs.

  A box of Häagen-Dazs ice cream bars sat open on the bottom shelf. He grinned. They weren’t tagged, and he bet he’d just found her private stash. He grabbed one and tore open the wrapper. The rich chocolate ice cream tasted sweet and cool as he sauntered through the aisles. He grabbed a couple of sodas, some canned meat and a bag of chips along the way.

  Traveling on the bike meant frequent stops, and he didn’t have much more than his clothes in the saddlebags.

  He hadn’t planned this trip. Not that he planned much of anything, anyway, but definitely not this one. He’d just taken off, needing to complete this self-appointed mission. He suddenly realized that the past year—going all the way to Pennsylvania to see his brother and back—had done a number not only on the bike, but on him. As well as the emotional upheaval of losing Mac.

  All of a sudden, Jace felt tired. He sighed loudly and headed toward the checkout. Dropping the pile on the counter with a loud clatter, he tossed the still damp stick on top so she’d know to charge him for the ice cream.

  Their eyes met, and hers widened as she looked up at him. For the first time in a long time, something inside Jace stirred to life.

  * * *

  ALL HER LIFE, Amy had been warned against letting strange men in the front door. That was much easier in the context of her home. Owning a grocery store in a small town, well, she couldn’t afford to be too picky.

  That was one of the reasons she’d agreed to let Katie adopt Butcher. She glanced down at the dog, who was flopped at her feet, watching the man. Fat lot of good the mutt was right now. He’d found his favorite spot in the store—on the vent beside the big old butcher block where she worked. He was currently a puddle of contented fur.

  She’d been watching the man since he’d come into town, pushing the big motorcycle over to Rick’s station. The bike was a monster and must weigh a ton. He’d pushed it easily, any strain hidden by his black leathers.

  He had to be baking in that jacket. The only breeze was what he created as he moved. It barely stirred his dark, shoulder-length hair.

  Her gaze had been drawn to the form-fitting leather pants he wore like a second skin.

  When he moved down the aisle, the dog perked up one ear. Nothing more. But it was enough to reassure her that she was safe. Or as safe as a woman alone in the middle of nowhere could be.

  She returned to the butcher block and the package of steaks she was preparing for Hank. The old man would be here at four to pick them up, so she had plenty of time. As the stranger wandered down the aisle, she wondered what would be Butcher’s greater motivation—the need to protect her, or to protect his perceived dinner—if the man proved to be a threat.

  She put the meat cleaver on the butcher block, but within easy reach. She’d hoped to keep track of him, but too late, he was in her space, standing on the other side of the narrow counter.

  And Butcher was simply thumping his tail against the floor.

  She swallowed hard before turning to face her customer. “Did you, uh, need anything else?” She cringed when her voice quavered, and inched her hand toward the cleaver.

  “Not a knife, if that’s what you’re offering.”

  She pulled her hand back, and the smile that was too good-looking for such a rough guy sent heat to her cheeks. People who rode motorcycles like the one she’d seen him with shouldn’t have pearly white teeth. But he did.

  “It’s not.”

  “Can you ring me up?” He tilted his head toward the stack on the counter.

  “Oh. Sure.” A paying
customer. What a novelty.

  “Nice dog.” Butcher’s tail moved faster.

  “He’s my watchdog.”

  “Uh-huh.” The man didn’t sound convinced. His smile widened.

  She chose to ignore it. But if Butcher decided to take a hunk out of his leg...well, she might let him, though it’d be a shame to ruin that nice backside with teeth marks. Her cheeks warmed and she looked away.

  Amy wiped her hands on the apron and stepped behind the register. She punched in the amounts, and after each, the ratcheting of the paper feed filled the silence.

  “The ice cream is a buck twenty-five.” She didn’t have a clue what they should cost. They weren’t really for sale. Too late now.

  The purchases fit in one bag. He pulled a worn wallet out and peeled off a crisp new bill. She smiled. Much easier to deal with than a credit card, or God forbid, a check. The fact that it was a fifty-dollar bill surprised her.

  She counted out his change, then extended her hand to give it to him.

  He smiled back and reached out to take it. Her heart did a funny little flip as she looked at his wide palm.

  Back in junior high, she and her best friend, Caryn, had bought a book on palm reading. They’d pored over all the meanings of the lines in a person’s hand. Looking at this man’s hand, with its calluses and lines, she wished she remembered some of that information. He intrigued her. She didn’t usually care about strangers, especially not men. But this man had been places outside this town. And he was heading someplace else once he left here. She wondered where.

  She shook her head to dispel her thoughts, and nearly dropped the coins.

  To keep the money from falling, he curled his hand around hers.

  Heat that had nothing to do with their location in the middle of the Arizona desert shot up her arm. Surprised, she looked up, then tried to hide her uncertainty. “Your change.” She pulled back her hand, and he let her go, though the feel of him lingered. She moved to the butcher block as he headed to the door.

  He stopped, holding the screen door open, and faced her. “So, is there somewhere I can get a room for the night?”