by Janet Dailey
“Mmmm, delicious,” she murmured and popped the rest of the succulent berry into her mouth except for its leafy cap. “They’re so sweet they don’t even need sugar.”
“Really?” he said in a doubting voice when she reached up to delicately wipe any bit of juice from her lips with her fingertips.
As his head bent toward her, she was slow to recognize his intention. When she did, Laura was aware only of the quick thrill that raced through her, knowing his lips would soon be covering hers. The pressure of them was persuasively light yet delving—and all too brief.
Sebastian drew back only inches. “Nothing enhances the flavor of a strawberry like a kiss.”
“That was sneaky,” Laura said in mock reprimand.
“You knew sooner or later I’d steal a kiss.” His gaze drifted once more to her lips.
“But I didn’t expect it to be in a public place in broad daylight,” Laura chided, not the least bit offended. In truth she would have been disappointed if he hadn’t made a play. “I expected you to be more discreet than that.”
“What could be more discreet than this?” Sebastian countered, his crooked smile barely wavering. “The cab of the truck blocks any view of us from inside the store, and I’m shielding you from the sight of anyone who might be watching across the street.
“It was still a sneaky thing to do.” Laura plucked a berry from his hand and climbed into the truck.
“I noticed how much it upset you,” Sebastian replied, eyes agleam as he pushed the door shut and walked around to the passenger side. Laura started the truck and waited for him to slide onto the seat next to her. “We’re off to Harry’s, are we?”
“We are.” She reversed the pickup away from the store and pointed to the bar and grill across the highway.
“Is there a Harry?”
“Not any more. He died a few years ago. His son Jack runs it now. According to Trey, he has the place listed for sale.”
He studied the building with its chipped and peeling paint. “I should think my chances of selling Crawford Hall far exceed his.”
“Is that what you’re going to do?” Feeling a sharp twinge of regret, Laura threw him a quick look.
“My options are limited,” Sebastian reminded her dryly.
“And I’m one of them,” she said with a slight taunt.
“Easily the most beautiful one.” Sebastian replied.
“Too bad,” Laura declared with a saucy lift of her head and drove across the highway and into Harry’s graveled parking lot.
Sebastian climbed out of the pickup and looked around with interest. “Is this the extent of Blue Moon’s business district?” he asked and took a bite of berry.
“It is now,” Laura confirmed.
“Are you particularly hungry at the moment?”
“Not really. Why?” She halted halfway to the door, a little surprised by his question, and a lot curious.
“I’d rather like to go for a walk and look around. After all, this may be my first and only visit to a true western town.”
“Ghost town, you mean,” Laura inserted dryly, but she had only to remember her own visit to the lush English countryside to realize how starkly different this was to him. “But you’re right. It’s nothing like England. We’ll start the tour over there.” She motioned to the side street.
They set off at a leisurely pace, walking along the edge of the street for a block before they reached a sidewalk. Sebastian studied the first grouping of buildings.
“Most of these look new,” he observed.
“Relatively speaking, they are. Most of them were built between twenty and thirty years ago by Dy-Corp when the mine first opened. That one over there is a medical clinic. It’s staffed by a physician’s assistant two days a week now. There’s talk of it shutting down. The one on the left used to be a branch of the sheriff’s office, but everybody works out of the county seat now. About the only police presence in Blue Moon is Logan. Since he lives west of here, he usually makes a patrol through town on his way to the sheriff’s office in the morning and again when he comes home at night.”
“Did I mention I met your uncle the day I arrived at the ranch?”
“No, you didn’t.”
“He gave me the impression he was a man who knew his business,” Sebastian said and held out his hand. “Have a strawberry.”
“As long as it’s just a strawberry I get,” Laura said in playful warning and took one from him. When they reached the end of the block, she made a left turn. “Now we’re entering Blue Moon’s residential area. The homes along here are mostly old and mostly empty.”
The grass grew tall in the yards, tall and already seared by the relentless sun. The few occupied homes were easy to spot, thanks to their mowed lawns and the flowering plants sitting in pots on their porches or front steps. But those few splashes of color only seemed to emphasize the rundown and neglected state of the rest. Laura found it a bit depressing until she spotted the corner house on the next block. There was an immediate lifting of her spirits at the sight of it.
Without thinking, she reached over to lay a hand on his arm, seeking Sebastian’s full attention and using physical contact to obtain it. “I was wrong. There is a touch of England here in Blue Moon.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Laura ignored his doubting look and grabbed hold of his hand. “Come on. We need to cross the street.” With traffic in Blue Moon all but nonexistent, she didn’t bother to look to see if there were any cars coming; she simply led him across the street at a running trot. “See that place ahead of us?” She pointed to the white house on the corner lot, its front lawn alive with varying shades of reds, pinks, and whites, punctuated by touches of yellow and peach. “It’s the Fedderson house.”
“Those are roses, aren’t they?” Sebastian realized.
“Tons of them. I couldn’t have been much more than four or five years old the first time I saw them,” Laura recalled with a nostalgic smile. “I had never seen so many flowers in one place before. Mom says that after that, every time we came to town I’d hound her until we drove by here. I’ve had a soft spot for flowers ever since, especially roses.”
Sebastian’s glance shifted from the house and its rose garden to the treeless expanse of plains that surrounded the town. “I can see why it would make such an impression.”
Laura nodded absently and slowed her steps to prolong the view of the garden. Climbing roses rambled over the picket fence, up trellises, and over arbors while mountainous shrub roses hugged the sides of the house and its porch, leaving room in the lawn’s center for beds of hybrid roses.
“I was told old Mr. Fedderson planted these as a tribute to his wife,” Laura recalled idly.
“I assume her name is Rose,”
Laura flashed him a grin. “Obvious, isn’t it,” she said as they neared the corner. “The last I heard she was still alive.” She grew thoughtful. “Do you know it’s been years since I’ve been by the house—probably not since I started high school.”
“Your tastes likely changed to something more sophisticated.”
“Ouch. That was a dig.” She fired him a look of pretended offense.
“Not really.” Sebastian smiled. “Most teenagers like to act smug and worldly—and much too mature to savor something so simple as the joy of flowers.”
Suitably mollified by his explanation, she agreed, “You’re probably right.” She stepped off the curb and started across the street, her attention still focused on the riotous abundance of blooms. Not until she was nearly to the other side did Laura notice the slight white-haired woman in a faded housedress sitting in a lawn chair near one of the rose beds. Laura leaned sideways and whispered to Sebastian. “Look. There’s Mrs. Fedderson. We’ll go say hello.” Without waiting for his reply, she quickened her steps and cut across the lawn toward the elderly woman. “Good morning, Mrs. Fedderson. It’s Laura Calder.”
The woman lifted a frail hand to shield her eyes from the sun’s high
glare. “Laura,” she said in recognition. “My, haven’t you grown up to be a pretty girl,” she declared, then peered past Laura, eyes squinting at the sight of Sebastian. “Is that young Trey with you?”
“No, Trey’s at the ranch. This is a friend from England. His name is Sebastian Dunshill.” This time Laura didn’t bother with his title.
“From England, you say?” The woman repeated with a slightly worried look. “My hearing’s not too good.”
“From England, yes,” Sebastian confirmed, slightly raising the volume of his voice. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Fedderson. Laura was insistent that I see your rose garden. You do have a most spectacular display.”
After listening intently, the woman nodded. “The roses. Yes, Laura always did like them. My Emmett planted all of this for me.”
“So she told me,” Sebastian replied.
Laura caught a movement in her side vision and turned, smiling at the sight of a young toddler, still in her pajamas, her dark, uncombed hair hanging in straggles about her smudged face. Clutched in her stubby fingers were a bunch of rose petals as she made a beeline straight for Mrs. Fedderson.
Bending down, Laura touched the woman’s arm and pointed to the little girl. “I think you have a dirty-faced angel coming to pay you a visit.”
“What?” The woman frowned, then saw the child.
The little girl toddled right up to the chair and held out the crushed petals. “Coo-kie,” she said, giving Laura the impression she wanted to trade the flower for a cookie. To her shock, the old woman scowled at the girl, demanding, “Where’s that brother of yours?”
“Coo-kie,” the girl repeated and dropped the petals in the woman’s lap.
“He sent you, didn’t he?” Rose Fedderson accused and flung a shooing hand at the girl. “Go on. Scat! He’s not going to steal from me this time.” She struggled to push herself out of the lawn chair.
“What are you talking about, Mrs. Fedderson?” Laura said in protest and reached out to offer a helping hand.
“That brother of hers is a thief, that’s what I’m talking about.” There was no mistaking the conviction or the anger in the old woman’s voice. She made a painful turn toward the porch. “It took me a while to figure out why things were coming up missing.” Head down and back hunched with age, she started for the house at a hobbling gait. “The little brat sends that baby over here. Then he slips in the house and takes my things.” When she saw the little girl toddling after her, she flapped her hands. “Shoo! Shoo!”
Sebastian came up alongside her and pointed. “You wouldn’t be referring to that young man, would you?”
Laura turned in time to see a dark-haired boy making a mad dash across the backyard of the neighboring house. He had something tucked under his arm, but her glimpse of the object was too brief for Laura to identify it.
“Come back here, you little pup!” Rose shouted. “Come back here, I say!”
“I’ll catch him for you.” Sebastian broke into a long, loping run, giving chase after the boy.
Laura scooped the little girl into her arms and caught a strong whiff of a stinky diaper. “Where do they live? Do you know, Mrs. Fedderson?”
“Down the street, two or three houses. The one with all the trash in the yard,” she said with contempt.
“Coo-kie,” the little girl demanded and pushed out her lower lip.
“Later,” Laura said and set off to take the girl home, careful to keep her head averted to avoid inhaling the smell of the dirty diaper.
Chapter Fourteen
Laura took one look at the weed-choked yard, littered with broken toys, junked auto parts, and an old sofa with ripped cushions and a missing leg, and knew this had to be the right house. When she started up the front walk, Sebastian came trotting around the corner of the house.
“He ducked in the back door and locked it,” he said and went up the front steps two at a time.
Laura reached the porch as Sebastian put a shoulder to the door and forced it open. When he swung the door wide, she caught a glimpse of the boy racing toward the rear of the house, but it was enough.
“That’s the Mitchell boy,” Laura said in surprise.
Sebastian hesitated in the doorway. “Do you know the family?”
“Not really. I had a run-in with his father a week or so ago.” Remembering the man’s hot temper, Laura stepped cautiously into the house and set the girl on the floor. She immediately toddled over to a bedraggled-looking doll on the living room’s floor and picked it up. “Hello!” Laura called. “Anybody home?”
Beyond some rustling movement coming from the rear of the house, there was only silence. Laura ventured a little farther into the room. She muttered to Sebastian, “I wouldn’t be surprised if the swine hasn’t gone off somewhere and left the children to fend for themselves.”
Sensing Laura’s wariness, Sebastian made a thorough visual inspection of the areas within their view. “Is there a mother?”
“She’s probably working,” Laura said and bent down to the little girl. “Where’s your daddy, sweetheart?”
The little girl immediately lost all expression and backed away from Laura, turned and dashed off to sit against the wall next to an old armchair.
“He knocks you around, too, does he?” Laura concluded, her dislike of the man deepening to an anger. She straightened. “This time I am going to report him. Do you see a phone?”
“No.” More sounds came from the rear. Sebastian listened for a moment, then moved toward them. “I think I’ll see what our little thief is doing.”
Laura followed him into a narrow hall that led to the back of the house. The doorway to the bathroom stood open. She glanced in, but saw nothing but a pile of dirty towels and discarded clothes.
The next door was shut. Sebastian pushed it open. Looking past him, Laura saw the unmade bed. She was almost sorry Mitchell wasn’t in it.
Sebastian swore under his breath and charged into the room. “What’s wrong?” The question was barely out of her mouth when Laura saw a pair of slim bare legs, a woman’s legs, on the floor near the foot of the bed.
Alarm shot through her as she pushed into the room. By the time Laura reached the fallen woman, Sebastian was already crouched beside her, his fingers pressed against the inside of her wrist, checking for a pulse.
Her stomach lurched sickeningly when Laura saw the woman’s face. There was little about it that resembled the woman she’d seen slipping food into Mitchell’s truck the day of the auction. Her features were distorted by dark, purpling bruises that marked nearly every inch of them. One eye was swollen completely shut, and there was dried blood on her chin from a severely cut lip, partially covered by an inexpertly applied Band-Aid with stars scattered over it, the kind meant for a child.
When Sebastian gently lowered the woman’s arm to her side, Laura asked, “Is she—”
“No. Her pulse is strong. Her breathing is steady. But she’s been severely beaten, mostly about the face, it appears, although there is some bruising on her arms.”
“And I know exactly who did it,” Laura stated, giving rise to the anger that had been simmering ever since she realized Mitchell lived in this house.
“What did you say their name is?”
“Their last name is Mitchell. That’s all I know.”
Sebastian bent close to the woman. “Mrs. Mitchell, can you hear me?” He gave her shoulder a gentle nudge. “Mrs. Mitchell?” The undamaged eye fluttered open, then closed with the release of a low moan. Sebastian tried again to rouse her. “Mrs. Mitchell!”
Again she opened the one eye. This time it stayed open as the woman attempted to focus on Sebastian. “Who . . . ?” The movement of a cut lip must have produced an instant jab of pain as her hand moved shakily to her face.
“I’m a friend of the Calders,” he answered, knowing his own name would be meaningless to her.
The woman’s obvious pain was more than Laura could take. “I’m going to find a phone and call f
or help.”
As she started to turn away, the woman’s voice lifted to stop her. “No, don’t!”
There was just enough strength in her voice to make Laura pause. “You’ve been badly hurt.”
“No. No, I’m all right,” she mumbled and made a weak attempt to rise.
Sebastian checked her attempt, warning, “Careful. You may have some internal injuries.”
“No.” Her hand trembled over the swollen surfaces of her bruised cheek and eye. “My face . . . that’s all.” She directed a pleading look at Laura. “Don’t call anyone. Please.”
The appeal was so poignant that Laura was torn between doing what she knew was right and giving in to the woman’s wishes. Sebastian delayed the moment of decision.
“Let’s get her off the floor and onto the bed.” He nodded in the direction of the unmade bed and the table lamp that lay atop it, its shade dented and askew. “Straighten the covers, will you?”
“Of course.” Laura moved quickly to retrieve the lamp and set it on the bedside table, leaving the shade atilt for the time being, while Sebastian cradled the slight woman in his arms.
The bedcovers were a tangled mess. Rather than take the time to straighten them out, Laura merely threw them back to expose the bottom sheet and moved out of Sebastian’s way. When he gently lowered the woman onto the mattress, Laura hurriedly plumped a pillow and slipped it under her head, her heart tearing and her anger growing at the little sounds of pain the woman attempted to smother.
Sebastian sat on the edge of the bed next to the woman, his gaze examining her again. “You really should have a professional assess your injuries, Mrs. Mitchell. You could very well be concussed.”
A tear trickled from the corner of her eye. “No, please.” The words were a sob. Then a look of panic flashed in her face, and again she attempted to rise. “My babies—”
“Your children are fine.” It required no great amount of pressure for Sebastian to force her to lie flat.
“Your daughter is in the living room playing with her doll,” Laura told her. “And your son”—she turned, not at all sure where the little thief was until she saw him standing in the doorway—“is right here.”