She shrugged. “I guess that’s one way to look at it. Everyone else there loved me, that’s for sure.”
Her face was transformed by a soft, fond smile. Seeing it, he thought he could see what she would have looked like as a young girl. He took her hand again.
She turned to him and cocked an eyebrow. “I was home schooled. Or car schooled. Motel room schooled. My mom taught me, and we lived on the road. So I don’t have any fond memories of torturing my classmates or trying out for cheerleader or getting chalk dust on my hands.”
“Really?”
She lifted her chin, and a defiant glint in her eye replaced the soft smile. “Really.”
He gave a short wave to someone as they passed. “How cool.”
She swiveled her head to look at him again. “What?”
“I think that’s cool, growing up like that. You’ve had experiences not many people have. Did you travel the entire country?”
“Pretty much. We spent most of our time in the South and Midwest, because of the music we played.”
“And you played with them?”
“From the time I was three years old and could shake a tambourine. I worked my way up from there.”
“No wonder you’re so good.”
She rolled her eyes, but she also smiled. “You know, when most people find out about my childhood they talk about how sad it must have been to grow up like that. No friends, unstable environment, all that. No socialization.”
“Maybe they didn’t see the look on your face when you talked about your parents. I know plenty of people who grew up in a so-called ‘stable environment’ and they don’t get that expression when they look back on it.” He sure as hell didn’t. His parents had a kind word for everyone they came across, but nothing but disdain for each other. He couldn’t imagine what kind of nightmare it would be to put them in a car together and drag them around the country. “That must have been a fun way to grow up.”
“It was. Of course, I never knew anything different, but as I got older and saw how everyone else lived, I realized how rare my parents were.”
“You know, your whole tone changes when you talk about them.” He stopped and faced her, drinking in the tenderness that crept into her face. “The lines of your face go soft. Your eyes even change color.” He lifted his hand to trace her hairline, from her forehead down to her ear. “They’re really special to you, aren’t they?”
He didn’t know why this surprised him. Maybe because she kept herself apart from everyone else, it was difficult to imagine there was anyone who meant so much to her, even blood relatives. During the short time he’d known her, he’d already come to see her as someone who needed only herself.
“Of course they’re special to me. They were my parents.”
“Were?”
She closed her eyes for a second, and moved out of range of his hand. “They died about ten years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, well…” She shrugged and turned to begin walking again.
“You know, though, when you have your own family, you can have that same special relationship with your kids.”
She cut her eyes up to his. “I don’t have kids.”
“I know. I’m talking about when you do. I’ll bet you’d make a very cool mom.”
She froze, facing him dead on, and whatever softness he’d seen in her face before was gone. When she spoke her voice was low and flat. “That’s a bet you would lose.”
She moved away from him, and when he reached out to stop her, the look in her eyes stopped him cold. “I have to go.”
She left him there to watch her make her straight-backed way through the crowd, wondering what he’d said. To no one in particular he said, “Why does she keep doing that?”
CHAPTER FOUR
The woman was impossible, Luke decided a few hours later as he talked on the phone to an officer from Seattle. That was all there was to it. She was antisocial, grouchy and just plain rude. Bad news. Probably end in disaster.
He’d never been more intrigued by a woman in his life.
The air conditioner thumped off, and almost immediately Luke felt the temperature in the office climb a couple of degrees. He looked at the thermostat and frowned. If he turned it any lower, the unit would freeze up again and they’d have to turn it off altogether to let it thaw out.
“It’s no problem to hold him a few more days,” he said to the Seattle officer. “We saw the news about the earthquake this morning and figured you’d need all hands on deck. How bad is it?”
“Could be a lot worse,” the officer from Seattle said. “But you’re right, we need everyone here for the next few days.”
“Like I said, it’s not a problem to hold him. But when you come, try to bring some of that Seattle rain with you. We’re about baked to a golden crisp down here.”
“Will do. I’ll call back in a couple of days.”
Luke walked back to Kenny’s cell after he’d hung up. He looked at the boy, whose shoulders were hunched up around his ears.
“That was about me?”
“Matter of fact, it was.” Luke put one foot on the bottom rung of the cell door. “We were right. Because of the earthquake, they’re not going to be able to come down and get you till next week, probably. So you get to stay with us for a while longer. But that’s good news, right?”
Kenny just stared at him and swallowed. “Can I have another bottle of water? The air is so dry here, my mouth feels like it’s stuffed with cotton.”
Luke got another bottle of water from the fridge across from the cells. Kenny was right, the air was so dry it crackled. But anyone as nervous as Kenny was bound to have a bad case of cottonmouth no matter what the humidity was.
The front door opened, and Toby walked in, followed by Luke’s mother.
Luke handed Kenny the bottle through the bars and walked back up front. As he returned his mother’s hug, he said, “What are you up to this afternoon?”
She set her purse on his desk. “I thought I ought to come up here and tell you the latest.”
Luke leaned one hip on the desk. “From the look on your face, the ‘latest’ isn’t good.”
“Mavis is boycotting the entire Rain Fest and the Jubilee in particular because she says she’s been insulted. She says no one wants to hear her high screechy voice.”
“Well, that’s true, isn’t it?”
Helen nodded. “Yes, but her feelings are hurt, and no one wants that, either. She left in a big huff this morning, and we ended up letting out early.”
“Yeah, I heard about that.”
“After lunch we got some of the girls together to see what we could do to make her feel better, and I’m afraid there was another… altercation.”
“This choir has been altercating all over the place.”
“True. But this one turned into a biggy. Mavis made it known that any of her true friends will show solidarity with her and join her boycott.”
A sick feeling settled in the pit of Luke’s stomach. The entire reason behind Rain Fest and the Jubilee was to get away from silly struggles like this. “That’s just nonsense.”
“That’s what I said. I’m afraid the ‘nonsense” versus “justifiable” was the first altercation on the agenda.”
“Does she have enough supporters to make this a problem?”
“She has that many women afraid of her,” Toby said. “Remember that time we tore up her azalea bushes trying to catch Bo Buchanan? She gave me a pop on the butt that still stings.”
“I remember Colt and I hightailed it out of there, while you stayed behind and tried to work you charm on her.”
“And she proved impervious. So if you need someone to go over there and try to sweet talk her into cooperating with the Jubilee, don’t look at me.”
“I doubt that will be necessary, although I’ll call Brother Mark and see if he can get her feathers unruffled.” He took a deep breath and crossed his arms over his chest. “Okay, so a few
women are joining her in the boycott?”
“Actually, about half the choir stormed out over the thing with Mavis.”
“Half?”
“She may be overbearing and tone-deaf, Luke, but she’s also president of the Quilting Club and the League of Women Voters. People are afraid of offending her.” Helen adjusted her glasses. “So we tried to reorganize the ones who were left and decide who was going to do the solos, and another argument broke out.”
“What was it this time?”
“Betty Wells wanted to sing “Nearer My Lord To Thee,” and Louise – you know how Louise is, absolutely no control over this part of her body – ” Helen made a sweeping motion toward her own mouth. Louise made a remark about Betty wanting to be nearer to Brother Mark, not the Good Lord. And she also said that Betty would probably rip off her choir robe for a dramatic climax to the song and have nothing on but a t-shirt and those tacky black bicycle shorts she wears all over town.”
Luke groaned.
“I know, Louise shouldn’t have said it. She should have at least kept her voice down. But really, Luke, those shorts are tacky. Betty passed the spandex-wearing age a long time ago.”
“Okay, so we lost Betty Wells. But we had the choirs from all four churches, so we should have at least a decent showing, right?”
“Actually,” Helen said slowly. “After Betty burst into tears and stormed out, Louise tried to explain herself by saying that it was only natural that she and Betty would hold different points of view, since Betty is a Methodist, and Louise is a Baptist, and everyone knew that Methodists just naturally had more relaxed moral standards than Baptists do. So then…”
“So then we lost the Methodists.”
“Eventually. After a few more words out of Louise.”
“I don’t want to hear what the ‘few more words’ were.” Luke stood and paced the office. “This is like the sinking of the Titanic.”
“Yeah, except the band played on when the Titanic sank. You don’t even have that,” Toby said.
“You hush, unless you have a solution.”
“Can you get the flower shop to deliver four dozen bouquets of roses by tomorrow afternoon?”
Luke ignored him. “Okay, let’s take stock. We’ve lost half in support of Mavis. Plus Betty Wells, who was our strongest soprano. Then the Methodists.”
“Plus the entire Church of Christ girls.”
“The entire Church of Christ? They were our best singers! What happened to them?”
“I’m not sure exactly, because it was right in the middle of all the hullabaloo between Louise and the Methodists. I just heard someone scream ‘sanctimonious blowhards in ugly shoes’ and then the entire Church of Christ turned up their noses and left.”
Luke rubbed his face with both hands. “So that leaves…”
“Me and Louise.”
“You and Louise,” he echoed flatly.
“And between the two of us, we can’t carry a tune in a bucket.”
Luke, Helen and Toby stood in the quiet room and looked at each other. The air conditioner came back on with a groan and clank, and Luke blew out a gust of air. He clicked his tongue and reached for his hat on the rack by the door.
“Where you going?” Toby asked.
“I’m going to find some new talent for the Jubilee.”
Dusty stood in the open doorway of Tumbleweeds and held her hair up on top of her head, waving a hand near her face to create the only breeze for miles. Her amplifier wouldn’t come on, and she couldn’t figure out why not.
She blew a gust of breath at her forehead and said a few choice words. Their first gig was tomorrow night, and the chances of finding anyone near here who knew how to fix her amp were not even worth considering.
Maybe it was just a breaker, she thought. She didn’t hold out much hope, but she felt silly for not thinking of that first.
She let her hair fall and wheeled the amp to another outlet, and felt even sillier when it lit up instantly.
“Rodney?”
His muffled reply carried from the office at the back of the room.
She headed that direction and poked her head through the doorway. “Breaker box?”
Rodney’s body was in his chair, but his head was tucked between his knees, and he was searching through the stack of paper at his feet. “Yes,” he said.
“Yes what?”
“Yes, we definitely have a breaker box. I’ve seen it.”
“Ummm…do you remember where it is?”
“Oh.” He straightened and placed his hands on his thighs. “Where is it? That seems to be the question of the day, doesn’t it.” He stood and turned in a slow circle, taking in the room. “I thought it was in here.”
Dusty bit back a sigh of exasperation. Rodney was one of the nicest bar owners she’d ever met, and the best bartender she’d never known. But once he stepped away from the bar, he couldn’t seem to find his butt with both hands.
“I don’t think it’s in here,” she said after she checked behind the door. “I’ll go check down the hall by the bathrooms.”
“Good idea. See if the liquor license is back there, would you?”
Dusty leaned against the doorjamb. “Don’t tell me you can’t find the liquor license.”
“Okay.” He held his hands up. “I won’t tell you.”
Finding the license suddenly seemed more important than the breaker, which wasn’t going anywhere at any rate. But without the license they were sunk.
She hated to ask, since Rodney looked like he was either going to start throwing things or break down and cry, but she said, “You’re sure you have one, right?” Knowing Rodney, he had the paperwork all ready to be filled out and sent in. Somewhere.
“I’m sure about that. Uncle Bob renewed it right before he retired. That’s the last thing he said to me before he left, ‘be sure and hang up the new license when it comes in’.”
“And it came in?”
“About three months ago, if I remember right. I just happened to look up there and see the expiration date on the old one, and I remembered.”
Instead of wasting time on dead-end avenues like ‘where did you see it last?’ Dusty began digging through the stack of papers on the metal file cabinet beside the desk.
She found a stack of receipts she was pretty sure Rodney’s accountant was going to be interested in, and a bunch of old newspapers she doubted anyone had ever been interested in. She found her own publicity packet.
She shook her head as she slid the glossy black and white photos from the envelope. No wonder Luke hadn’t recognized her when he saw her. The posters that were supposed to be circulated a month ago were still in Rodney’s office.
“Why didn’t you put these up around town?”
“What?” He looked at the pictures. “Hey, those are good pictures of you. We should put them up somewhere.”
“Good idea. They were in the envelope with the songs and instructions for the band.”
Rodney cocked his head. “No kidding? I didn’t even see those in there. I gave the band stuff to Luke, though.”
Good thing, Dusty thought, or we’d be in even worse shape than we are. Although it was hard to beat a bar without a liquor license. “You are in serious need of some organizational skills, my friend.”
“Tell me about it.” He lifted a water bottle off another large stack of paper. “I was going to hire a secretary but I lost her phone number. Hey!” He held up a sheet of paper.
“The license?”
“No, it’s the order form for the liquor supplier. I looked for this all last week.”
“If you tell me you don’t have liquor, I’m going to pack my bags. Although I suppose that would minimize the problem with the license.”
“No, I have liquor, because they faxed me another form. They were real rude about it, though.”
Dusty turned to search for the still-missing breaker box, and met Luke coming in. The sight of him threw her off enough that she actually stopped f
or a moment before turning for the back hallway. “You’re about four hours early,” she said over her shoulder.
“Good to see you, too. How’s it going?”
“We have no juice for the left half of the stage, and no liquor license. But other than that… how about you?”
“No choir for the Jubilee. But other than that…”
Dusty smiled as she spied the breaker box down the dark hallway. Good. They had something to talk about besides her sudden departure this morning.
“What’s the Jubilee – oh, that’s the revival thing, right?”
“Yes, but don’t call it a revival. The Catholics thought that sounded too Southern Baptist.”
“What happened to the choir?”
“As far as I can tell, half the women are afraid of Mavis, and half are outraged by something Louise said.”
Dusty studied the breaker switches and flipped one. “Do me a favor, would you? Wheel my amp back over to the stage and plug it in. Louise is the little one with the face that looks like a wadded-up paper bag?”
“Mmm, yep, that’s Louise.”
“And Mavis? Is she the loud one with the tall hair?
“The very one.” He plugged the amp in and turned it on. “You’re good to go.”
“Excellent.” She walked back down the hallway. “Now I have to figure out how we can distribute everything so we won’t blow it during the show tomorrow night.”
“I’ll help. And I have to find somebody to help me do the music for the Jubilee before tomorrow night. You interested in teaming up with me for some duets?”
She raised one eyebrow. “At a revival? You’re not serious.”
“Jubilee. And of course I’m serious. Why not?”
“A, I don’t do revivals, period.”
“Not a problem. It’s a Jubilee, not a revival.”
“And B, I don’t have time. Neither do you. We have rehearsal tonight.”
“We could learn three or four songs in no time. You could come up to the office tomorrow morning and we could get it all worked out. Just imagine it. Two people, two guitars. It’ll be folksy.”
“What it will be is one guy, with one guitar. And you’d better not let it interfere with your previous responsibilities. I’ve heard your new boss is a real hard case.” She put her hands on her hips and surveyed the scene, mumbling to herself. “We’ve rehearsed twice and haven’t blown anything, why is it blowing breakers now?”
Cowboy Sing Me Home Page 7