Owen

by Barton, Kathi S.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  World Castle Publishing, LLC

  Pensacola, Florida

  Copyright © Kathi S. Barton 2018

  Paperback ISBN: 9781629898919

  eBook ISBN: 9781629898926

  First Edition World Castle Publishing, LLC, February 19, 2018

  http://www.worldcastlepublishing.com

  Licensing Notes

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles and reviews.

  Cover: Karen Fuller

  Editor: Maxine Bringenberg

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Kathi Barton

  Prologue

  Owen studied each picture in the thick book like there was gonna be a test on it. But he loved the colors that had been used, and the way that the water and trees seemed to just jump out at him. Or, and he smiled at this thought, the way they just begged to be touched. Running his fingers over the one of the cowboy on a horse, he wondered what the person had been thinking when they started out doing this one.

  “Whatcha doing?” He looked up at Clay, wondering not for the first time if his mom and dad were related. The boy looked as dumb as he was, but Owen would never say that to him. He kinda liked the kid. “You reading that for school, Owen?”

  “Nah, I just like the pictures. I don’t know how to draw a straight line with a ruler, but I sure like the way these pictures look.” He showed him the one of the cowboy. “Don’t you think you could almost smell the hot grass, Clay? That the steam rolling up from that dead buffalo makes you want to just turn your head away on account’a it being dead and all?”

  “No. It makes me wonder what you’ve been drinking.” The other boy laughed and Owen, so he’d not be made fun of, laughed with him. “You gonna get to go on that thing with the class? My mom said I can’t be going. There ain’t enough money in the jar for extras.”

  “My dad said that he’d pay for you to go.” He hadn’t said that, but Owen had his birthday money he was going to use for the trip. “You get a permission thing from the teacher, and we’ll go have us some fun.”

  It was a trip to the museum. Owen wanted to go in the worst kind of way, but like at Clay’s house, money was really tight. Owen’s dad had told him that he’d give him the four dollars, but Owen told him he’d pay for himself. And since he had ten dollars, he wanted his friend to go too.

  “Your daddy, he said that?” Owen would tell his dad what he’d told Clay, but he knew that he’d not be mad for the fib. “That’s real nice of him. You tell him I said so.”

  “I will.”

  When Clay went to get the slip from the teacher, Owen reached out to his dad. He was working, he knew, but this was important, in case Clay’s mom or dad talked to him before he could. He told him what he’d done.

  That’s right nice of you, Owen. If I had the money to give you both I would. But you pay for your friend, and I’ll pay the four dollars for you to go. He told him he didn’t have to do that. I want to. I want to reward you for being a nice person. And you doing this for your friend, knowing that he didn’t have the money for himself, that deserves to be rewarded. Maybe you can buy you both something when you get there.

  Thanks, Dad. I love you.

  Owen and his brothers never went a day without telling their parents, both of them, that they loved them. Being wolves, they never knew when they might be out running around, and someone would take a gun to them. Or, even as a person, a car might hit them. So, it was a policy at his house to say it to each other. He’d loved that idea his whole life.

  The next morning when he came down to breakfast, his mom was sitting at the table, her eyes red from crying. Looking at his dad, he saw him shake his head and Owen didn’t ask. When the rest of his brothers came down, they sat very quietly as well. Mom stood up then and wiped her eyes before she spoke.

  “There won’t be any school today, sons. I should have told you before you got dressed.” No one said a word, not about how they were excited to have a day to skip out on lessons and such. “Last night….”

  Owen wanted to ask about his trip but didn’t. His mom was crying softly into the chest of his dad. When Owen looked over at Caleb, he shook his head too, like don’t ask, something’s up. They sat there and waited, knowing that one of them would tell them soon enough. When Mom ran out of the room, sobbing harder, Dad told them.

  “Clayton Albright came home from work last night to find his family all dead. The boys and the baby had been shot, and Mrs. Albright was dead too. They’re all gone but for Mr. Albright.”

  “What happened, Dad?” Owen watched their dad as he seemed to struggle with something. It hurt him in ways that he couldn’t understand to see his dad and mom like this. But his friend, Clay, he had to have gotten out. “Did someone come in and rob them?”

  “No, son. Mrs. Albright has been ill for a long time, and she did it. Then she took her own life.” Caleb said nothing, but Owen wanted to know about Clay. “I’m sorry, Owen, but he’s gone too. All of them are.”

  For the rest of the day he sat up in his room. The tickets for them to go to the museum were sitting on his desk, and Owen couldn’t make himself look at them. Clay, his bestest friend in the whole wide world, was dead. And while he was old enough to understand that dead was dead, at ten, he thought he was too young to lose someone that he liked this much.

  “You okay?” He nodded to his dad when he came into his room. “I know it’s a might hard on you. You got any questions for me, you just ask. I’ll do the best I can in telling you the truth.”

  “Why was his mom sick? Dad, why would she hurt her own kids?” He couldn’t say the word out loud. He hurt with it. “Clay’s little sister wasn’t no more than a few months shy of her first birthday. Why didn’t she bring them over here? We’d of taken them, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, in a heartbeat. I even told her that so many times. Just to give her a rest when she needed it. But sometimes the mind, it can be tricky. And hers was the worst kind of tricky.” He told his dad he didn’t understand. “All right. You feel sad right now, don’t you? I mean, you lost your buddy and that hurts you, right?”

  “Yes. Even my feet hurt from it, ‘cause I know we ain’t gonna be running around no more.” Dad nodded. “I’ve been thinking of the stuff we did just yesterday. Him coming over and sitting with me. Just like it was a normal day.”

  “Yes, but that feeling you got, the sad one, you think on that real hard. And I want you to think about having the same hurt all the time even when you’re smiling. And it’ll be more hurtful and more painful every day.” He closed his eyes and tried to feel what his dad was telling him. “You feeling it?”

  “Yes, sir, I feel it. It’s powerful.” His dad told him that Mrs. Albright felt hurt more than that. Probably a hundred times worse. “She didn’t tell anyone?”

  “She did. But they didn’t have any money for her to get to see someone that could really help her. Like a head doctor or something. And you know that pills, they don’t work on us like they do humans. So that wouldn’t have given her much relief either if she could
have paid for them.” Owen nodded, watching his dad as he picked up the tickets. “She was sure happy that Clay was going to get to go with the class when she came to talk to me. But she had a powerful hurt, son. Worse than you can ever even imagine. And she just couldn’t deal with it. Not on her own. Now, I don’t rightly know why she took the lives of her children, we’ll never know that. But she did, and that’s what we have to deal with here.”

  “I wish I could have helped her.” He said that he did too, but sometimes it was just too much for someone. “Dad, is Mr. Albright going to be all right? I mean, he’ll be hurting bad on account ‘a he lost his mate, huh?”

  “Yes, he’ll hurt for a long time, I think.” Owen nodded. “When you see him, don’t shy away from him like you’re scared of him, Owen. You just say hi like you always do, and ask him if he needs anything. Whatever he tells you, says to you, you just know that his pain is terrible. Why, I don’t know what I’d do if I lost any of you. Think of that when you see him.”

  “I will, Dad. I promise.” He looked at the tickets in his dad’s hand. “I hope me buying the ticket for Clay isn’t what made his mom sadder. You think it did?”

  “No, son. She loved you for it.” He nodded and laid on his bed. “You don’t linger up here too long. Go on out and be in the sunshine. It’s the best thing in the world for a broken heart.”

  Owen didn’t linger, but he did think about things as he made his way outside. He’d never see him again, his friend. Nor would he get to play with the little girl, Beth, Clay’s baby sister. Owen thought about going over to see Mr. Albright but didn’t want to bother him. He was a grown up and might not care for some kids coming to see him.

  “Owen, you okay? I know that he was your friend and all. You okay?” He told Xander that he was fine now. “You need me, you just holler. I’m here for you. I never lost me a friend or anything, but I bet you’re hurting. I think I would be.”

  “I’m okay.” Xander started away. “Wanna go to the pond with me? I’d like to just sit and have it quiet. Will you go with me?”

  Xander was the only brother he had that liked to sit quietly. Gabe wasn’t too bad, but he’d think of something then over explain it to you. Caleb was just too old for sitting. He liked girls. Yuck. So, he and Xander went to the pond and sat in the sunshine, saying nothing to each other. Just thinking about life.

  “Xander, when I get older, I don’t want to have a single painting in my house.” Xander asked him why not. “I think me buying that ticket for Clay, it got his momma thinking how poor they were, and it hurt her. Dad said that it wasn’t that, but the more I think on it, the more I think that was it.”

  “I don’t know. Seemed like she was hurting before that.” He nodded. “But you might find that you like paintings someday. Don’t say never, Owen. You know that means you will.”

  Yeah, he knew that too, but he was gonna work hard at remembering how it felt when his friend died, and he had no one left to play with. Life sure was hard on a kid, he thought. Hard as heck.

  Chapter 1

  Clare didn’t know what was going on, but she’d been here for an hour and twenty minutes, and still hadn’t seen the man that wanted to talk to her brother. She had things to do, and he was getting antsy. Not that she blamed him—she hated to be cooped up all day as well. When he pulled on her sweater, Clare looked at Conrad.

  “Can we just go home now?” He started rocking, never a good sign. “I think I’d like to go home now, Clare. Can we go home now?”

  “All right. Let me just tell this nice lady that we’ve had enough.” Conrad whispered, but was still loud, that she wasn’t all that nice. Laughing, she was headed to the front desk again when a man came out of the office behind the dragon lady. That was the name that Conrad had given the lady sitting there, and she thought that it was as good as any name. Dragon stood up when the man asked her a question. He wanted to know if they were still there.

  “We’re here, but we’re leaving. We’ve been here for over an hour, and we’re going home.” She headed back to Conrad when the man started telling her how sorry he was. “I don’t really care. You’re a rude jackass, and this is no way to treat people.”

  “You owe the jar a dollar, Clare.” Clare smiled at her brother and told her she’d put ten dollars in the jar if the man told her once more how sorry he was. “Okay, you go tell him off then. I’ll count for you, but go slowly for me.”

  Clare turned to the man when he touched her shoulder. Taking him to the floor was easy. He should know better than to put his hand on someone he didn’t know. While he was begging for her to let him go, she counted to ten, slowly.

  “Miss Macintosh, I presume?” Clare looked at the older man standing behind the guy on the floor. “My name is Gilbert Wayne. I’m the one that called your brother. If you’d let my assistant go now, perhaps I can take you both to dinner, and I can explain why I needed to talk to you.”

  “My brother doesn’t like to be inside this long. So, say whatever it is, and we’ll be on our way.” A second man came out of the offices, but for now he wasn’t doing or saying anything to piss her off, so she talked to Mr. Wayne. “I’ll let him go, but I swear to Christ, if he says he’s sorry again, I’m going to snap his arm off. I’m exhausted and have a pounding headache. And so far this week hasn’t been the best I’ve ever had. But I suppose it could be a lot worse if I have to murder someone.”

  “Dinner it is then.” Mr. Wayne laughed but she didn’t find any humor in him. The other man, whoever he was, just kept staring at her. Clare snapped her fingers in front of his face when he looked like he was frozen in place. “Miss Macintosh, this is Mr. Owen Winchester. He’s the reason that I called you.”

  “Yeah? So?” Conrad came to her and said that he needed to pee. Taking his hand in hers, she asked where the men’s room was. Mr. Winchester said he’d take him. “You will not. He’s my brother, not some person you can take from me and hurt.”

  “I would never do that.” He sounded so indignant that she nearly laughed. “I won’t hurt him, only guide him to the men’s room where I was headed as well.”

  Conrad went with him, telling Clare he’d be all right. Waiting in the hallway right outside the restroom, she looked at Mr. Wayne when he joined her. His small laugh had her tensing up. Clare wasn’t usually so intense all the time, but there was something about the other man that made her want to lash out and hit him. And she really did have a headache, and she was stressed out as well.

  “Mr. Winchester has come across some things in his barn. And when he figured out who they belonged to, someone in his family had us looking into it. We were to find someone that might be a relative to the person who owns the things.” She didn’t say anything, but wondered how they’d ended up calling her brother. “I had no idea when I spoke to your brother that he was handicapped. I’m very sorry about that.”

  “Conrad does all right if you speak to him slowly, when it’s important, and I’ve been working with him since I was born. He’s all I have.” He said he knew that now. “You had us investigated then. Well, whatever he found, I’m not going to buy it from him. And we’re doing just fine on our own. If that’s all you wanted to tell me, then we’ll be on our way. As I said, Conrad doesn’t like to be inside of strange places.”

  When Conrad and the other man came out of the restroom, he looked at her. There was less tension in his face and he was smiling. He asked her if they could please go and get dinner with the man.

  “This is your meeting, Conrad. Remember? Do you want to go to dinner with these men? Or go home? Whatever you want, we’ll do that. I have plenty of time.” He nodded and took his phone out of his pocket and asked her to take a picture of him. “Yes, you know that I can do that. Stand over there.”

  She didn’t indulge him often. But he’d been upset before, and she didn’t want to make him that way again. When he said again that he wanted to go to dinner, she agreed with him. They were in the limo a few minutes later, and Mr. Wayne started t
alking to them both.

  “Mr. Winchester, as I said, has a barn on his property. The house and its contents were his to do with as he pleased, as was the barn and other buildings there as well. On the land there are several sheds, as well as the big barn that looks as if no one has touched it for a very long time. Decades, we think. He found some things in it, something of a distant grandmother of yours, that he wanted to share with you.” Clare said nothing. As she’d told Conrad, this was his meeting that had been set up by him. “He’d like to discuss with you what he found, as well as what you’d like to do with some of it. If anything.”

  When they both looked at her, she looked at Conrad. He was staring out the window, and she said his name to draw his attention back to what was going on. Conrad just started rocking, so she reached over and took his hand in hers before looking at the two men again. She figured that if she explained what was going on right now, they’d not freak out or be upset if he lost control on his fragile emotions.

  “Conrad, until a few months ago, was in an institution. They didn’t treat him well, and they took his things from him when they thought he was being bad. Things that he loves more than he does even clothing and food. He loves to paint. To create with clay, and even stacking up plastic blocks to make castles. He no more deserved to be in there than I did. And I’ve missed him and having him around. So as soon as I could afford it and after our parents were both dead, I went and bailed him out. And I say that because that was what it was like—I was bailing him out of a prison.” Mr. Winchester asked her what the name of the place was. “Sherman Oaks. Like it was some sort of retirement home or something. But they were terrible to him, and he’s only just learning to be out in the real world. We’re all we have. And I won’t have him upset or hurt over this. He’s not stupid, only a little slow in picking things up. He wanted to go to this meeting, and that’s the only reason that we’re here. If he wants to see this stuff, then we will, but to be honest with you, I can’t imagine that there’d be anything we want to look at.”