by Carol Finch
Katy nodded, refusing to confide that she had already helped Chad financially for six months. That was between Katy and Chad.
When Tammy ambled to her room, Katy plunked down at the kitchen table to devour a few more Turtles, then she stared appreciatively at the bouquet of roses Nate had given her. She faced a frustrating conundrum here. If she tried to prove Nate wasn’t involved in setting the fire, she would likely get Chad into hot water with Sheriff Peterson. If she didn’t offer her speculations, then Nate would remain the convenient scapegoat. Lester and John would continue to sway public opinion about Nate.
To save one, she might have to sacrifice the other. Talk about getting caught between the proverbial rock and hard place.
“Damn,” Katy mumbled around a mouthful of candy. How was she, who had practically turned into a recluse and let her appearance go to hell the past few years, going to have enough credibility and influence on the folks in this community? She was just poor Katy who’d had a rough time of it and kept to herself. Folks around here had offered sympathy but hadn’t followed up the emotion with charitable acts. They let her wallow in her misery and never tried to draw her out, include her in activities.
But now Nate Channing had come back to town, and he cared enough to make a difference in her life. His insistence in getting her out of the house this evening lent testimony to that.
Katy frowned thoughtfully. In less than a week, Nate had managed to stir up emotions Katy thought she had buried. He, alone, had befriended her, included her by giving her a tour of his house, inviting her to dinner and renewing her acquaintance with Fuzz Havern.
In an effort to protect her from Lester and John’s vicious tongues, Nate had spirited her away tonight. He had to know that Lester and John would view the incident as another victory in their ongoing feud against Nate. He hadn’t defended himself by announcing that he had spent the evening with Katy and Tammy.
He had been willing to sacrifice his attempt to gain respect in his hometown in order to protect Katy and Tammy. The noble gesture could cost his already questionable reputation dearly in this suspicious town.
Tears welled up in Katy’s eyes. Life had been so unfair to Nate…and Katy had been the reason he was forced out of town sixteen years ago. She could never let herself forget that she owed him for the loss of respect he suffered the night he was spirited away.
Katy sat up a little straighter in her chair and raised her chin a notch. Perhaps she would never regain enough self-confidence and self-esteem to share an intimate relationship with Nate because Brad had taught her to fear sexual advances, had pounded it into her head—literally—that she was a pathetic sexual partner. But she felt the compelling need to stand up for Nate, even if she had forgotten how to stand up for herself. Maybe she was only a partial coward, she decided. Maybe if she projected a new image in town, she could earn enough credibility to become Nate’s champion….
If she didn’t chicken out the way she usually did during heated confrontations and revert to the old habit of running for cover.
No more negative thoughts, Katy Marie, she told herself firmly. Nate Channing deserved a second chance in this dusty, dried-up, opinionated town. And Katy was going to find a way to ensure Nate got a chance. If the first step in phase one was to improve her image and appearance, to hold up her head and assert herself, then that’s what she was going to do.
Yes, she decided, she was going to ignore the barrage of second thoughts that ricocheted around her head. She could do this, for Nate Channing’s sake. She was going to recapture a little of that fire and spirit her father and husband had smothered. She had told Nate countless times in the past that he was worthy and honorable and capable. All she had to do was tell herself the same thing.
Given time, she might even begin to believe it.
Chapter Six
Chad Parker nearly jumped out of his skin when an ominous figure loomed within the shadows on the front porch of his house. “What the hell are you doing here? Who are you?”
“Your worst nightmare, kid…if you refuse to cooperate with me.” Nate took an intimidating step forward, then another, until he had forced Chad to back down the sidewalk.
“You better beat it, mister, or I’ll holler to my parents,” Chad threatened nervously. “My dad’ll blow you away.”
Nate scoffed at the bluffed power play. He knew this routine, had used it himself in the past. But the fact was that he had used his cell phone to check with Fuzz Havern, and he had the lowdown on Chad and the gang of boys who had most likely caused the fire at the grocery store.
“Your mother isn’t home. Rarely is,” Nate told the fidgety kid. “I know you don’t have a father.”
Chad elevated his chin and tried out his tough look, but Nate wasn’t impressed. He looked at Chad and saw himself ten times over. Behind all that bluff and bluster was a scared kid who had very little guidance, direction or encouragement.
“What the hell do you want?” Chad snapped hatefully.
Nate broke into a devilish smile. “Your soul for starters, kid.”
A wary expression crossed Chad’s face as he shifted uneasily from one well-worn sneaker to the other. “Who the hell are you?” he demanded again.
Nate leaned forward to get right in the kid’s face. “The name is Nate Channing. I know you and your buddies started the fire. Are you the one who tossed aside the cigarette that caused the dry grass to set off like a lit fuse and ignite the grocery store?”
Chad’s face turned the color of vanilla pudding. “How’d you know about—”
“Because I’m right in your head with you, pal. Been there, hated my lot in life, resented being looked down on, as if I wasn’t as good as everybody else. Even believed it myself for a while. And you know what, kid?”
Chad gulped. “What?”
“I made it out of the gutter where everybody thought I belonged. I left behind a ramshackle shanty that looked worse than the one you’re living in. Somebody in this snobbish town saw potential in me, and she never let me give up on myself. Her name is Katy Bates, and no—” he hurried on before Chad assumed Katy had confided Chad’s identity “—she doesn’t know that I know who you are. She doesn’t know that I saw her slip you a crisp Jackson when you skulked into her backyard.”
Chad’s face turned a lighter shade of pale, but Nate didn’t let up, because he had gotten the kid’s undivided attention and he intended to press his advantage.
“You know what else, kid? You aren’t going to get by with the excuses you’ve been relying on anymore because they won’t cut it with me. You want a better life, a new image, a chance? Well, guess what, I’m your lottery ticket, and you win.
“Starting tonight, I’m going to make a winner out of you. If I hear any excuses about the lousy start you’ve had, about your lack of parental guidance, then you’ll leave me no choice but to cram them back down your throat. Don’t force me to do that, kid, because I gave up the F word, smoking, drinking and fistfighting years ago. But not so long ago that I don’t remember how to deliver a brain-scrambling punch that causes temporary amnesia. You got that, kid?”
“Yeah,” Chad chirped nervously.
“That is ‘yes, sir,’ to you,” he corrected him sharply, amazed that the instant he approached this kid and lit into the boy, he sounded exactly like Bud Thurston and Fuzz Havern all rolled into one intimidating authority figure.
“You’ve got just one chance,” Nate continued gruffly. “You blow it and you’ll rot away in this dump of a house, in this town. You won’t have the chance to walk away from the bad example your parents set for you. You won’t learn something positive and become a better man, worthy to be seen in public with someone of Tammy Bates’s caliber.”
Chad’s eyes rounded. He stared up at Nate as if he were telepathic or psychopathic—the kid couldn’t figure out which.
“My dad was an alcoholic who turned mean and nasty when he was drunk. So did my mother, so don’t whine to me about a deadbeat dad an
d the uncaring mother you got stuck with. Don’t whine to me about not having the funds to date the prettiest girl in town. When I was your age, I couldn’t even set foot on my girlfriend’s doorstep because her snobbish daddy didn’t think I was good enough to get within a hundred yards of his high-class daughter.
“And you want to talk modes of transportation?” Nate added with a snort. “My bucket-of-rust car was broken down more than it ran. I couldn’t even afford a car until I was a senior in high school. If I didn’t learn to fix that junk heap, then it didn’t get fixed, because I couldn’t afford a professional mechanic. Right now you don’t have wheels, but you’re going to earn the money to buy one.”
“Doing what?” Chad mumbled. “Picking up aluminum cans beside the road? There’s not much work for kids in this town.”
Clearly, having wheels was a high priority on Chad’s list. His ego was smarting because he was afoot. Nate understood the embarrassment, but Fuzz and Bud had taught Nate that sarcastic back talk was a no-no. Chad had to learn that straight away.
“You say something to me, kid?” Nate snarled for effect.
Chad reflexively jerked to attention. “No…sir.”
“I didn’t think so. If you had, you would have used a polite, nonhostile tone.” Nate cuffed Chad by the rib knitting on his T-shirt and hauled him down the street.
“Where are you taking me?” Chad shrieked in alarm.
“For a ride in my shiny black Lincoln, just so you’ll know you could have one just like it someday if you wanted one, provided you don’t give up on yourself, provided you refuse to live down to people’s low opinion of you.”
Nate jerked open the door and shoved Chad roughly into the car, the very same way Fuzz had manhandled him sixteen years ago. It had made a lasting impression on Nate. He was pretty sure it would have a similar effect on Chad. The kid was going to realize immediately that, no matter how tough he thought he was, Nate was bigger, stronger and tougher.
“Wow!” Chad breathed in awe as Nate plunked down behind the wheel. “This car is really loaded.”
“Darn right. Bought and paid for with hard-earned money, not illegal funds, no matter what you are likely to hear to the contrary from some folks in this town who refuse to accept me because of the frustrated kid I was when I left, not the man I am now. You, kid, are going to leave this place with a better reputation than you have now so you don’t have to deal with this kind of suspicion and mistrust if you ever decide to come back.”
“So where are we going?” Chad asked as Nate pulled through the alley and veered to the street.
“To pick up your so-called friends. You’re going to tell me where to find them. You’re also going to tell me who tossed aside the cigarette, because I think you have more sense than to pull an irresponsible stunt like that.”
Nate glanced sideways, noting that Chad had clamped his mouth shut. “I’m not going to beat the crap out of your friends, at least not if they cooperate the same way you are going to. You want them to have the same break you’re going to get? Or do you care if they make it out of the gutter?”
Thus far, Nate had followed Bud and Fuzz’s policy of informing a juvenile of exactly how he was expected to behave. He wasn’t going to tell Chad and the other boys what not to do, but what to do, how to respond in certain situations. Nate was going to prepare them to become responsible, law-abiding citizens. This would be the payback Nate owed society. He was going to set up his own behavioral-modification program and attitude-adjustment classes. Chad Parker might not know it yet, but he was going to become Nate’s star pupil—like it or not!
“So where do I find those soon-to-be-converted thugs?” Nate demanded sharply.
Chad kept silent for a long moment. Nate didn’t push and prod. He let the kid mull over the rapid-fire comments and make the right decision. And Chad would make the right decision or Nate would move directly to plan B. Fear, Nate knew for a fact, was a strong motivational technique. He hoped he wouldn’t have to resort to strong-arm tactics with Chad.
The other boys, Nate wasn’t so sure about.
According to the background information Fuzz Havern had provided, the other four hoodlums weren’t hard-core but they were borderline. Nate prayed he could reach them before they followed in Sonny Brown’s footsteps, before they gave up completely on themselves and turned to lives of crime.
“The guys are probably at the hamburger joint,” Chad said finally.
An unseen smile quirked Nate’s lips as he hung a right and cruised down the side street. His new charges were hanging out at the Coyote Grill, were they?
This Podunk town lacked creativity, Nate thought to himself. There was no Sundown Café, no Fluff-and-Dry Laundromat, just plain old Coyote Café, Coyote Grill, Coyote Service Station and Coyote Grocery, which had recently gone up in smoke. No wonder kids just sat around howling at the moon. No wonder the hidebound snobs in town dragged their feet and resisted change. The whole lot of the folks in town were stuck in a rut. Nate hadn’t realized that until he shook the dust of Coyote Flats off his boot heels, then returned to view the town from a new perspective.
His thoughts trailed off when he saw four boys sipping drinks from foam cups while they leaned negligently against a light pole. All four juveniles had their ball caps turned backward and were trying to act like the coolest of the cool in Coyote County. It was just an act, Nate knew from experience. These kids were suffering from attention deprivation and severe cases of inferiority complex.
“Go round ’em up,” Nate ordered brusquely. “We’re going for a ride.”
Chad did as he was told. Nate watched Chad deliver the summons, saw the thugs glance at the Lincoln with its tinted-glass windows. They held a short powwow, then finally the foursome swaggered behind Chad when he returned to the car.
Nate made a long, pensive study of the foursome who approached and he immediately picked out the ringleader. The kid was a stout bully type with a chip the size of the Rock of Gibraltar on his shoulder. Of course, the kid was the first one to shoot off his smart mouth when he plopped carelessly on the back seat of the car.
“Whatddya want with us—”
Nate twisted around, snaked out a steely arm, grabbed the kid by the front of his T-shirt and hauled him forward before he knew what hit him. When dealing with troubled kids, like Nate used to be, he knew attention-grabbing was important. He employed yet another technique Fuzz and Bud had used on him, noting that it worked as well now as it had way back when.
“You set your last fire around here and smarted off for the last time, son.” Nate breathed harshly on the kid’s reddened face. “I’m the only thing standing between you and a stint in a juvenile detention center. I promise you that you don’t want to tangle with the badasses locked up in there. This is your lucky day, pal. You get to deal with me instead.
“When I ask you a question you will respond truthfully and politely. The name is Nate Channing,” he told the cocky ringleader. “When you reply you can use my name or sir, whichever you prefer. That goes for the rest of you. Any deviation from Rule Number One will land you in deep trouble with me. Is that understood?”
He released his hold on the ringleader. “Is everybody clear on how to behave respectfully?”
“Yes, sir,” Chad said, setting a good example for the boys in the back seat.
Nate smiled discreetly at his star pupil when the fearless foursome tucked their tails and mumbled, “Yes…sir.”
During the four-mile drive to the construction site, Nate silently thanked Bud and Fuzz for teaching him how to deal with wayward youths and make them respond. These half-pint thugs would come around because Nate refused to let them give up on themselves. Katy’s crusade to help underprivileged, neglected and troubled kids had become his crusade.
When Nate cut the engine, he was the first one out of the car. He waited for the boys to pile out, then directed their attention to the monstrous steel building that would soon house a branch office, research and developme
nt center, and supply warehouse for Sunrise Oil Company.
“I’m hiring all five of you to clean up the premises,” he announced. “I want every packaging paper from insulation, every scrap of steel, every discarded bolt and hex-head screw picked up off the ground and placed in the trash bins. When the shrubbery arrives to landscape the grounds, we will shovel, rake and plant the garden sites according to my specifications. The interior of the building will be swept clean nightly so the electrical and framing crews don’t have to work around clutter and risk injury. When the time comes to build the fence around the property, I will be your foreman.
“You will report to me exactly one hour after school is dismissed each day and at nine o’clock on Saturdays. You will be paid two dollars an hour above minimum wage, and you will be docked five dollars for tardiness. There will be no smoking or drinking on the premises.
“Since my parents were both alcoholics, I have zero tolerance for what booze can do to people, to families. I know exactly what you have endured in life because I endured it myself as a teenager, so don’t think flimsy cop-outs will work with me. They won’t. I will also be checking in with the teaching staff to ensure your job doesn’t cut into your grade-point average. If you aren’t making the kind of grades to brag about, then it’s time to start. The Nate Channing School of Etiquette and Work Ethics doesn’t tolerate sloppy appearance, rotten attitudes and self-imposed ignorance. Any questions?”
“Yeah,” Jake Randolph said, smirking. “You and what army is gonna make us follow your stupid rules?”
Nate got right in Jake’s face, forcing the kid to look up at him, establishing his role of authority.
“You want to rephrase that question, kid?” Nate growled venomously. “I don’t think I heard you correctly, did I?” Nate practically stood on top of him, his gaze boring down like laser beams.
“No…s-sir,” Jake squeaked when a painful twist was applied to his hair.
“Now, what was it that you wanted to ask me?” Nate prompted through gritted teeth.