The Secrets of Rosa Lee

by Jodi Thomas

  Lora pushed her hair back from her face. “I went over to Wichita Falls with Talon Graham. Man, was that a mistake.”

  “The guy who brought you the poster?”

  “Right. I figured I owed him something.”

  Billy swore. “So you went out dressed like fresh meat.”

  She laughed. “I guess it did seem something like that. Anyway, we had dinner. He spent most of it telling me how important it was that his company get the Altman land. He drank way too much, then he wanted to go dancing out near North Scott Street. By midnight, he was in no shape to drive home so I asked him to give me the keys.”

  “Let me guess,” Billy interrupted. “He said no.”

  “Right. In fact he gave me a choice. Let him drive home, or spend the night in Wichita Falls. He seemed to think I should be honored that he was even considering sleeping with me on our first date.” She hugged her bare legs. “Like a fool, I’d left my purse at home thinking I’d be dancing and didn’t want to worry about it. Dumb. I also abandoned my cell for fear my mother would call wanting updates on my first date since the divorce.”

  “Dumb,” Billy agreed.

  “I know, but I’ve been out of the dating pool for a few years.” She pushed her toes beneath the edge of his sleeping bag. “Anyway I tried to talk it over with him, but got nowhere, so I walked out.”

  “Why didn’t you call someone?”

  “Who? You’re pretty much the only friend I have in town. My mother made a point of telling me they’d leave a door unlocked no matter how late I got in. She and Dad have been trying to match me up with Talon ever since they found out he’s heir to the Graham ranch north of here. He plays the rich grandson to the hilt, but I’ve got the feeling his grandfather is making him prove himself in business before he turns over the running of a ranch. He mumbled on for half an hour about how important it was that we see it their way and give the Altman land over to them.”

  “So, how’d you get here?”

  “I walked for a while after I left Talon. The place was out of town, but I noticed an all-night café at the crossroad. I sat there for a while, telling the waitress my problems when some truckers hauling cattle came in to refill their Thermoses. One of the trucks had Wichita County Feed Lot on the side, so I asked the driver if he was heading anywhere near Clifton Creek.”

  “He gave you a ride.” Billy couldn’t believe anyone would turn her down.

  “Yeah. Said he was on a tight schedule and had to drop me off at the turnoff, but he did ask me for a date.”

  Billy laughed. “You didn’t say yes because you were beholden to him, did you?”

  “No. I’ve learned my lesson. I did tell him I’d give him a real good deal on a new car. That seemed to cheer him up.”

  “It’s over two miles from the interstate.”

  “You’re telling me. I had time to think of a dozen ways I’d probably be killed before I reached Main.” She rubbed her feet. “Not the least of which was freezing to death. Whoever made that rule about women never wearing open-toed shoes after Labor Day might have had a good idea. I can’t seem to stop shivering.”

  “I could drive you home?”

  “No thanks. I don’t think I could face a cross-exam right now and knowing mother, she’s waiting up. I thought she was determined to get me married off before, but this time I’m like damaged goods, and she’s put me on the ‘must go’ table.”

  “Want to share my bedroll until you get warm or it gets late enough to be safe to go home?”

  Lora looked up. “As a friend?”

  “As a friend.” Billy opened the old sleeping bag and slid as far as he could to the back half. He lay on his side, his arm extended.

  She hesitantly slid in beside him, her back to him, and rested her head on his arm as he laid the top half over them both. They lay side by side for a few minutes until the warmth relaxed them.

  “This is great,” she whispered. “I’m starting to feel my toes again. Another block and I think they would have fallen off and started rolling down the street ahead of me.”

  He didn’t answer.

  “I hope Talon’s out there looking for me, but more likely, he’s passed out over the table. I could tell something was bothering him when he picked me up. I should have canceled the date right then. He must have taken a dozen cell calls during dinner. He’d leave the table for a while, then come back and order another drink. Something, besides me, was ruining his night.”

  She stretched and moved her hair above Billy’s arm, then tucked the cover around her as if building a nest. Their bodies brushed lightly in several places as their combined warmth took the chill off the inside of the bag.

  “Billy, what you thinking?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “You asleep?” She rolled a few inches until her shoulder touched his.

  “No,” he finally whispered. “I’m just trying not to think about how you used to jump.”

  She stabbed him in the ribs with her elbow and he let out a groan.

  “Thanks,” he whispered out of breath. “That helped.”

  She giggled and cuddled next to him, spooning against him for warmth.

  Billy closed his eyes and tried to give up thinking all together. This had been one hell of a night.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Micah let himself into his duplex and paused to listen, making sure all was calm. Mrs. Mac’s TV still sounded through the open door. He checked on Logan. The boy had kicked off his cover, but was sound asleep. The kitten, curled on Logan’s extra pillow, opened one eye, then went back to sleep. Micah pulled off his shoes and moved into Mrs. Mac’s quarters. She snored away in her extended recliner. He turned down the TV and covered her with a blanket. He’d made the mistake of switching off the set once and she’d jumped with the shock of sudden silence.

  When he moved down the hall to his bedroom, he fought the urge to practice the two-step. It had taken Randi an hour to teach him enough so that they moved smoothly. Then, they’d danced like he’d never thought he’d dance in his life, fluid and free, as if blowing in the breeze.

  If anyone had seen them dancing, they would have thought it strange, the preacher and the bar owner. But, somehow they’d found the one thing they could do together. He told himself they could never be lovers. Dating was probably out of the question. Neither wanted any involvement.

  But they could dance. He could hold her close, feel her heart beat. For a short time, he wouldn’t be so alone and maybe she wouldn’t either. He’d never danced with Amy, so Micah didn’t feel as if he were replacing his wife. The feel of Randi in his arms took the edge off his loneliness. Maybe it did the same for her.

  He pulled off his clothes and fell into bed, thankful tomorrow was Saturday and maybe Logan would let him sleep until nine. The boy’s favorite thing to do on Saturday morning was to sneak the cereal and milk into Mrs. Mac’s place. They’d eat together and watch cartoons until Micah awoke. It was their special time together.

  Closing his eyes, he guessed Mrs. Mac would probably get her fill of cartoons and Cheerios tomorrow. Just before he fell asleep, he reached for his other pillow, pulling it against him. But tonight, it was Randi he pulled into his embrace, not Amy.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  The phone rang as Sidney pulled her keys from her purse. She’d given up on waiting for Sloan McCormick and decided to drive over to Wichita Falls alone to visit with Dr. Eastland’s old nurse. Sloan might have some reason for not showing up, or he could have changed his mind about wanting to go with her. Either way, talking to the person who’d found Rosa Lee’s body had to take priority.

  She caught the call on the third ring, already preparing to hear his excuse. “Hello,” she almost shouted.

  “Professor Dickerson?” The voice was definitely not Sloan McCormick’s.

  “Yes.” She straightened, all business.

  “This is Mayor Dunley. I hate to bother you so early on this Saturday morning, but I’m feeling some pres
sure to find an answer to the Altman house problem and I need to know if anything was decided yesterday.” He hesitated. “I tried to phone last night, but you must have gone to bed early.”

  Sidney wasn’t aware the house, or her private life, was a problem. The mayor had made serving on the committee sound like an honor only a few weeks ago. Now, it was a problem he felt he had to check on.

  “What kind of pressure?” She knew offers were coming in to buy or lease the land, but the oil companies surely could wait a few days—after all, the oil, if it was down there, had been beneath the land for hundreds of thousands of years.

  “I got a call about an hour ago from Howard Drilling. They’re interested in placing a bid, even though they say they’ve got all they can handle right now. Normally, I’d want to give it to a local company, but Talon Graham’s been in my office every day this week. He seems to think that since his grandfather owned a ranch north of town, he’s local, even if he did grow up in Austin. If you add those two offers to the one a man named McCormick set on my desk Friday afternoon, that’s three.”

  Sidney remained silent. Sloan must have made his offer Friday while the committee was meeting, but true to his word, he hadn’t mentioned it to her. He’d said any offer made would be between the mayor and him.

  The mayor cleared his throat. “I told both Talon Graham and Howard Drilling that they’d have an answer as soon as possible.”

  “Can they lease the oil rights and not bother the house?”

  “No. Both claim the house is on the crest and that’s where the drilling needs to be. Talon suggested moving the house, but it would crumble for sure if we tried anything like that. Even the Harvey brothers, who moved picky Old Man Hamm’s house to town, aren’t up for a job like that.” The mayor laughed. “I forget you’re not from around here and don’t know everyone, but you’ve probably seen Old Man Hamm. He’s got six kids living in the county, not counting grandkids and greats, and far as I know not one of them speaks to him.”

  Sidney glanced out the window. She really didn’t have time to play the mayor’s favorite game of who is related to whom in Wichita County. Since she had no roots here, he always took it on himself to go over local family trees with her.

  The mayor grew silent for a minute. “I told Talon we’d have an answer in a few days. He’s really in a hurry to know. He seems to think this job is vital to his career, even though we all know he’s only in the oil business until he decides to run for election.”

  Sidney didn’t want to get into another long discussion about someone she didn’t know. “The committee meets again Wednesday, but I’ll call everyone and tell them to be ready to vote. As far as Talon Graham goes, I’ve never met him, so his impatience isn’t my concern.”

  “Oh, you’d know him if you saw him,” the mayor told her. “Looks just like his father.”

  Sidney crossed her eyes in frustration. “I assure you, the committee is working, Mayor. We’ll have a decision as soon as possible.”

  The mayor coughed into the phone. “I’m sure you are, and I want you to know I’m not trying to influence you in any way. Just let you know the facts. A group out of Dallas wrote saying they would take a look at the place to see if it qualified as a historical site, but they didn’t much think it would. If the committee goes that direction, you’ll make a lot of the older residents happy and I promise you we’ll try to survive without the extra revenue.”

  “Thank you, Mayor. I’m glad you’re not trying to influence me.”

  “You’re welcome. It’s the only fair way, but I got to tell you I don’t know how the town will pay the bills this winter much less come up with any money for fixing up the house. I had to pull the money for the new window out of our snowplow budget. We’ll just have to hope it doesn’t snow bad enough to close the roads before Christmas.”

  “I understand.” His not-so-subtle hints were growing stronger with each passing minute.

  When he began telling her about the snow of 1970 that closed even the interstate, she leaned away from the phone enough to see out the window. Sloan pulled up in his pickup and stepped out. His long legs looked even longer in jeans. She had no idea what he’d been like as a young man, but she had a feeling he was in his prime in his forties. The slight gray at his temples suited him, as did the laugh lines.

  “I have an appointment,” Sidney interrupted the mayor. “I hate to leave, but I must if I plan to be ready for the vote Wednesday.”

  He mumbled something about telling her more later and hung up.

  The doorbell rang just as she put the phone back in place.

  “Morning,” Sloan said when she opened the door. “Sorry I’m late.”

  She waited for him to explain, but he didn’t. After an awkward pause, she held up her hand for him to wait for her on the porch. Stepping back into the hallway, she grabbed her briefcase and purse. Sidney thought of telling him about the mayor’s phone call, but wasn’t sure how much she wanted him to know. A tiny part of her couldn’t shake the feeling that he might be playing her for information. Maybe he even thought she’d swing the committee his direction if he flirted with her.

  When she stepped outside and locked her door, she asked as casually as if they were simply going for a drive, “I forgot to offer to take my Jeep.”

  Sloan glanced over at the rusting Jeep parked in the carport beside her bungalow.

  “If you’d like to drive?” He studied her car as if trying to decide if he’d fit into the thing. “We can take whatever you like.”

  “I hate to drive,” she admitted. “And sometimes my Jeep hates to run.”

  He relaxed. “I guess living on campus you don’t drive often.”

  “Right.” She walked toward his pickup. “It does have its disadvantages. Students drop by without calling sometimes. Usually to turn in late papers as if shoving them under my door at 11:59 p.m. still counts.” She thought of adding that sometimes anonymous people dropped off yellow slips of paper telling her how to vote, but if he didn’t know about the paper, she wasn’t about to tell him.

  “Everyone in town knows where you live,” he added more as a statement than a question. He helped her into the truck.

  “I wondered how you knew which place was mine last night.”

  He closed the door without commenting. He seemed occupied, not fully in the conversation.

  While he walked around to his side, she noticed he’d cleaned up his work space between the seats. His small laptop was off and folded into a pouch. The papers and notepads were all stuffed into a pocket. The cords to cell phones, computer or whatever he used were gone. Even the cups of half-finished coffee usually stuffed in his holders had disappeared.

  When he climbed in, she noticed he’d dressed more casually today. Boots, jeans, pressed shirt. The shirt was a pale blue, not white, with snaps not buttons. The boots expensive, but worn.

  “Ready?” He started the engine without waiting for an answer.

  She wanted to ask him again how he knew where she lived. Another time, she decided. She only nodded and opened her briefcase. As he drove, she told him all the information about Rosa Lee that she had found in the county records. The woman had been born in 1910 and had died ninety-two years later. Her mother had died the day she was born with Rosa Lee being her first and only child.

  Sidney glanced at Sloan. He didn’t interrupt, in fact she wasn’t even sure he was listening.

  “Rosa Lee must have been friends with my grandmother Minnie during her short stay in Clifton Creek during the Depression,” Sidney continued, needing to organize the facts whether he listened or not. “Minnie couldn’t have lived here long for my mother’s birth certificate was registered in Chicago on April 3, 1934.”

  “You have no proof they knew each other?” Sloan interrupted, finally interested.

  She shook her head. “I remember Grandmother Minnie talking about how she and my grandfather married and worked the farm until fall. Then, she stayed in Texas while he went north to find
work. He had family he stayed with and saved money until they had enough for her to join him.”

  “Times must have been hard then,” he said, more to himself than her. “But, at least they had each other.”

  She knew without asking that no one waited for him.

  Sidney flipped to Henry Altman. “Rosa Lee’s father was born 1878; one record shows he died in 1964, the same year I was born.”

  “Me, too,” Sloan added. “Sixty-four must have been a good year for everyone but old Henry.”

  “Strange thing is, everyone thought of him as the father of the town even though it had never been official. He established one of the first ranches in Wichita County, shipping cattle as soon as the railroads came in. He donated the land for the railroad station and the city hall. He was remembered as a kind man who did a great deal to help others.” Sidney paused and lowered her voice. “But, the paper reported that he was buried next to his wife in the Wichita County cemetery without a funeral. Not even a graveside. Apparently, Rosa Lee refused all visitors.”

  “Strange.”

  “I read through the society notes from back then. She was never mentioned, not before or after her father died.”

  “Maybe she just didn’t like people?” Sloan pulled around an eighteen-wheeler.

  “Probably,” Sidney said halfheartedly. “Rosa Lee never married. Fell on hard times in her later years and died penniless except for the forty acres she still owned where the house and her gardens stand. In her last few years some people said she kept her money hidden away in her house, but more likely, she’d been selling off first land and later furniture to live.”

  “You think there’s more to the story than just a dislike of people?”

  “Maybe, but we’ll never know.”

  “Lonely life,” Sloan said. “Maybe she was homely, or had a wart on her nose. Or bald. I had an aunt once. Head looked like a bowling ball. We all figured she’d be an old maid for sure, but one day she brought home the hairiest man you’ve ever seen. He was crazy in love with her and she said he kept her warm at night.”