by S. H. Pratt
Several other people stood and Dexie feared that there would be a lynch mob soon, with Jason Bergman as their target. She stood and held her hands up to forestall the growing crowd of people getting to their feet in her defense. Bergman looked at her one last time, his malicious glare tinged with fear, showing that he, too, sensed that his safety was in question, then he collected his briefcase and left the building quickly.
Dexie waved to a few of the people in the crowd who yelled ‘hi’, before the chaos was interrupted by the sound of something being pounded on the table. Everyone resumed their seats and turned their attention to a man Dexie didn’t know.
“I’m going to assume, based on the actions of the group assembled, that you are, in fact, Dexie McBride,” the man stated rather than asked.
“I am,” Dexie replied.
“Ms. McBride, it’s an honor to meet you. I’m Sam Brightman.” The man introduced as he and a woman sitting in the front row, a few seats away from Drake, stood. Dexie noticed the woman nearing the man and his response of putting his hand on her back. “And this is my wife, Tabby.”
“It’s nice to meet you. Please, call me Dexie.” Dexie implored as she shook their hands. Sam nodded his agreement then gave Tabby a gentle nudge toward her chair.
“I’m sorry to see you’ve had a less than pleasant homecoming, your mother’s passing notwithstanding,” Sam noted with a soft tone of compassion.
“It’s no less than I expected… well, maybe not the twenty-four-hour stint in the hospital, but…” Dexie shrugged. “May I address the council and assembly?”
“Please,” Sam smiled and resumed his seat. Dexie looked at the crowd and searched for the right words to start what she needed to say… to make the people understand her position.
“Good evening,” she started and to her surprise, a woman in the crowd on the right snorted and glowered. “As most of you know, I have been gone for the last ten years and only days ago returned upon the passing of my mother. I know you don’t understand why I left, where I went, or why I wasn’t here when my mother needed me to be. I know you all have heard, at the very least, rumor of what occurred yesterday morning at the old Palmer cabin. I’d like to offer some clarity and advice, as well as the understanding that my sole purpose for being back here in Peace, and for being here tonight, is to give this town some freedom.”
“And you probably won’t even stick around when you’ve finished messing up everyone’s lives,” the woman muttered in a voice just loud enough to carry to the table. Dray sighed and rubbed his eyes.
“This is not the time or place to air out dirty personal laundry, Charlee. Nor does Dexie deserve your recriminations.” He noted in a tired voice.
“So now I’m dirty laundry? Bite me, Dray.” Charlee snapped. She stood and stalked from the building, the door slamming loudly in the shocked silence that followed.
“Sorry, Dexie, please continue,” Dray apologized resignedly. Dexie looked at him questioningly then shrugged before turning back to the crowd.
“I’ve known for many years that the Harrington’s wanted to own the town of Peace outright. I also knew I was wholly unprepared to fight their growing monopoly. My mother, Elaine, was devastated by my father’s death and never truly recovered, as many of you well know.” Dexie continued morosely. There were several heads nodding sadly among the group. “When BJ convinced her that by marrying him, her worries about my future and the future of Peace could be put to rest, I’m fairly certain she had no idea the depth of the Harrington’s corruption.”
Dexie was brief and cryptic in her retelling of the events that led to her leaving Peace and the Harrington’s role in it. She told the group of the Harrington’s plan to take Peace either by manipulation or force as well of their threats against her family and the town. Sounds of outrage, disgust, and disbelief became a low buzz in Dexie’s ears. She briefly outlined the events that had occurred the day before which had led to Brent’s trip to Billings and his arrest, omitting the nature of Brent’s surgery and the ‘trap’ that Bergman had spoken of. The buzz became punctuated by quiet weeping and grumbles of revenge as she continued.
“The thing that needs to happen now, is Peace needs to be free of the cloud of fear and you, the people of Peace, need to be given the chance to contribute to Peace’s prosperity. I know the town by-laws. I studied them in depth while I was gone. My lawyer has studied them as well. With the criminal investigation into Brent’s assault and attempted murder, you, as a town and council have the power and right to remove him from the council, freeze his assets, and forgive any and all debt he may hold over the town or its people. You also have the right to determine what happens to the properties owned within the town limits. My suggestion is to give the current tenants the chance to purchase the property they currently occupy. If the tenant chooses not to, then hold a public auction.”
“Dexie?” Sam’s voice to her left drew her attention. She turned to look at him, finding a deep frown of concern marring his face.
“Yes?”
“Just to clarify, because I’m afraid I heard you correctly. You sacrificed your health and safety when you returned to Peace? You used yourself as bait?” The man stumbled as though trying to find the right words in his growing horror.
“I did use myself as bait, in a manner of speaking, to provide the proof necessary to obtain freedom from Brent for myself and for this town. I knew what he wanted and what he’d do to get it… he’d proven his capacity for violence ten years ago. I knew I had to protect myself and Peace while the burden of proof rest on my shoulders. I have no doubt in my mind that Brent victimized others and I knew it was my responsibility, as the sole remaining McBride, to bring his misdeeds to public light.”
“Are you willing to fill his seat on the council… as the sole remaining McBride?” Sam asked after a long, uncomfortable silence. The heavy blanket of shock with its underlying anger was oppressive and nerve-racking as it settled over the room.
“I am. Although, the requirement of having a descendent of one of the founding fathers has been fulfilled for as long as a Palmer sat in a council seat.” Dexie confirmed.
“I don’t understand,” Sam frowned.
“August Harrington had three children. The eldest, his son, took his place on the council. His eldest daughter, Sabine, married a man named Terrence Burkeholder. They had two daughters, the youngest of which, Ruth, married Byron Palmer, Dray’s grandfather.” Dexie explained.
“Interesting. Why has no one said anything before?”
“Because it was never necessary. There has always been someone from the direct male line to sit on the council… until me.”
Dexie stared at the clock, its glowing digital numbers bright in the deep darkness of the room. She was exhausted but her mind refused to stop replaying the events of the evening in the school cafeteria. The relief of having the council accept her sudden appearance in their midst, her immediate replacement of Brent, and their ratification of her suggested steps to strip Brent of his chokehold over the town had been overwhelming.
The incessant hugs and well wishes that had followed the adjourning of the meeting had been draining. She’d consistently refused to elaborate on her whereabouts or activities while gone. Questions about the nature of the protection she’d brought with her to fight Brent had also been turned away unanswered. The mysterious Mrs. Webster had practically thrown herself, sobbing uncontrollably, on Dexie, thanking her repeatedly for making Brent pay for his horrible deeds. By the time she, Dray, and his father had stepped into the house, Dexie had been well past the point of exhaustion.
Now, after nearly two hours of tossing and turning, watching midnight creep closer, she was still wide awake. The sound of someone slowly ascending the stairs outside her door tore her eyes from the red, glowing numbers. Dray had been quiet throughout the majority of the evening and the drive back to his place. Charlee’s outburst had confused her at the meeting, but now that she’d had time to contemplate its possible mea
nings, she was certain that Charlee had feelings for Dray that went far beyond friendship.
With a restless sigh, Dexie left the bed and reached for her bathrobe. Stepping quietly, she moved across the hall where light poured from the crack at the bottom of the door. She lifted her fist and paused, uncertainty flaring in her mind, then knocked softly.
“Come in,” Dray’s voice beckoned. Dexie opened the door and looked at him. He was sitting on his bed in nothing but his pajama pants looking careworn and as exhausted as she felt. He held his hand out to her as he murmured. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
“Just restless. I can’t get my mind to stop. I heard you come up so…” Her voice faded as she shrugged, moving to take his hand. Dray tugged her down to sit beside him and wrapped his arm around her shoulders comfortingly.
“It’s been an eventful few days. Tonight was…” Dray seemed to flounder, searching for the right word to describe the tumult of the evening.
“Yeah, it certainly was,” Dexie snorted. Dray chuckled softly then stood, pulling Dexie back up to her feet. He lifted the covers, silently inviting her to lie down. She shrugged out of her bathrobe and got onto the bed, sitting up against the headboard. Dexie looked around the room while Dray sat next to her and covered them.
The room was warm, hues of red and deep autumn orange complimented the rich brown that dominated the space. There were only four pieces of furniture, with the large antique four-poster bed being the focal point, which sat in the center of the wall across from the door. A nightstand was to the left of the bed and behind the door, against the wall opposite the headboard was chest of drawers and a chair. This room was exactly how Dexie imagined Dray’s space would be.
“You changed the upstairs but nothing down?” she noted.
“Not entirely true. Dad’s study was turned into his bedroom once he couldn’t manage the stairs anymore. And, since I know he won’t be up here again, it felt less weird to change things up here. It still feels like their house not mine.” Dray countered wryly.
“Yeah, I’m not really looking forward to going to the ranch tomorrow. I have no idea how long it’s been since someone’s been there.”
“Last week.”
Dexie looked at Dray, a confused frown etching her face. “Huh?”
“Every other week, I go up to the ranch house and let a cleaning service from Columbus in to dust and stuff. After you left, your mom had all the locks changed. It pissed BJ off that she refused to give him keys to the place too. She had an alarm installed and gave me the keys and code. She asked me to maintain it before she passed.”
“Why would she do that?”
“She told me when she asked me to do it, that she was afraid that Brent had done something to make you leave… that you were scared,” Dray explained in a low voice. Dexie snorted but he ignored her and continued. “She said if you were ever going to show up in Peace again, you wouldn’t go to the Harrington mansion, you’d go home. Her reasoning was that if you couldn’t get in at home, you’d come here and I could give you the keys.”
Tears filled Dexie’s eyes as she listened. She pulled her knees up and crossed her arms over them, dropping her head to her arms. The hurt she’d caused her mother crushed her. Dray’s arm came to rest around her back and she leaned into him.
“I never meant to hurt her,” Dexie whispered.
“She knew that. She just missed you… we both did. She and I spent a lot of time together over the last few years. Now I miss her as much as I do my own mother.”
“I miss her too,” Dexie sniffled.
They fell silent, a heavy melancholy settling over them. The longer they didn’t speak, the more restless Dexie mind grew until she turned her head to look at him while keeping it on her arms.
“Why didn’t you tell me about the ranch house the other day instead of offering the cabin?” A frown creasing her brow.
“Strictly selfish reasons. I was hoping if you were at the cabin where we always had so much fun, that it would stop feeling weird between us.” Dray grinned crookedly.
“But I made it worse with my obnoxious opinions.”
“Nah. You just gave me things to think about.”
Silence fell between them again as Dexie continued to gaze at him. Her mind continued to bounce restlessly until she frowned again, unsure if she should even approach the subject that now poked at her.
“So you and Charlee?” Dexie asked warily. Dray’s face reddened and he sighed.
“I thought you said you weren’t dating anyone?” she continued.
“The friends with benefits package is not dating. And after Brent attacked you at the cabin, I called Charlee and told her that the package deal was off.”
“Is that why she was pissy tonight? She thinks I’m just coming in here to stir the shit pot and leave? She thinks I’m going to leave you high and dry?”
“Pretty much.”
“You do realize that Charlee probably has feelings that go deeper than friends with benefits… right?”
“I do now, but when I called her yesterday, I didn’t. She never said and I’ve never been great at mind-reading.” Dray grimaced.
“I’m not gonna do it, you know.”
“Do what?”
“Leave you high and dry. I want to stay home.”
“Home as in Peace or home at the ranch?”
“Peace… with you.”
“Me, huh? And what happens when I drive you nuts with my horribly allocated priorities?”
“You said you were looking to reallocate them so you’re probably in better shape than me that way. But I’ve been alone for ten years… what if I can’t figure out how to navigate people again?”
“I think you’ve been navigating beautifully. You’re here in my arms.”
“And now you’re sweet-talkin’ me.”
“I am. I’m happy that you’re here with me.” Dray admitted with a soft smile. He moved his arm and gently caressed a lock of hair from Dexie’s cheek. She smiled as Dray shifted to lie down, taking her with him, then turned the lamp off. Resting her head on his broad chest, Dexie hugged him with one arm around his middle. She breathed deeply, a light, subtle scent that teased yet soothed her swirled around her senses. Dray’s arms were strong and warm as he held her close, giving her a sense of safety that she’d thought was lost forever. He made her heart race and her stomach flip but he made her feel protected and loved.
“Dray?” Dexie whispered in the dark.
“Hmm?”
“Who was that guy sitting next to Jim Harwood?”
“Gary Wilson.”
“Why does that name sound familiar?”
“Only because we saw his name on a bunch of trophies at the high school. He graduated the same year Jim did.”
“Oh. I guess that would explain why I didn’t recognize him,” Dexie gave a little shrug.
“Well, that and he sobered up after you’d gone. After he stopped drinking and got himself together, he’s been a different man.”
“That’s cool,” she smiled, then grimaced in the dark. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Jim that mad before.”
“I know I haven’t! That was crazy, he looked ready to deck Bergman.” Dray snickered softly. Dexie chuckled as her mind replayed the meeting for what seemed like the millionth time.
“The Brightman’s seemed nice. How does Sam do everything, being mayor and running the store, and all?” She commented idly.
“They’re good people. And Tabby runs the store for the most part since Sam got elected. They are most definitively not pro-Harrington.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Remember when Mrs. Taylor dated BJ for about two months? Sheila had died from that aneurysm while waiting tables and BJ was basically dating anyone who’d have him because he didn’t want to have to raise Brent alone.”
“Yeah,” Dexie scowled in disgust
“And you remember that she had nothing nice to say about BJ or Brent after?”
“
Uh-huh.”
“Apparently when she listed the grocery store for sale, Brent wanted it… badly. He offered her twice what the Brightman’s did but she sold it to them because she refused to let a Harrington have her store.”
“Holy shit. I knew she and BJ hadn’t left the relationship on good terms, but that’s beyond ‘bad breakup’.” Dexie breathed in shock as they fell silent again. The sleep that had been so elusive for hours earlier washed over her in gentle waves strengthened by Dray’s solid presence and deep, even breathing.
The late May sun was brilliant in the clear Montana sky as Dexie stepped from her rented Jeep the next morning. Her body still ached and her head and face were still bruised and painful but she’d been in Dray’s arms when the alarm had roused them, leaving her more optimistic than she’d felt in ten years. They’d been eating breakfast when a sheriff’s deputy had arrived to let them know the cabin had been cleared as a crime scene.
Dray had given Dexie the keys and code to the ranch house she’d grown up in then driven her to the cabin. She’d been horrified to see the broken lamp, blood, and other remnants of Brent’s vicious assault but Dray had held her, reminding her that she was safe and Brent was still locked up tight in Billings. Dexie had collected her things after sweeping up the remnants of the lamp while Dray had cleaned up the rest of the mess, then they’d left. Dray had headed into town on an errand for his dad while Dexie had turned toward her family property.
Dexie turned the key in the lock and opened the door. The incessant beeping of the alarm Dray had told her about made her ears hurt and her head throb until she managed to press the code in to make it stop. Dexie took a tentative step into the house she hadn’t lived in for almost twelve years and shuddered at the timeless sensation that cloaked her. To her right was the garage and she idly wondered if her dad’s old Durango was still in there. She looked to her left into the formal living room that was exactly as it had been left when they’d moved to the Harrington mansion.