“If anybody’s missing when we come back,” George warned, “well, it wouldn’t go too good for poor Ralph, here, if you get my meaning. And no phone calls,” he added.
The instant the bathroom door closed, Caleb pounced. “What the hell is going on?”
Melanie dropped her head against the back of the chair. God, how much humiliation could one woman be expected to stand? With her eyes closed, she told Caleb what was happening.
“It looks like you were more right than you knew,” she told him, “when you called them goons.”
“So we’re just going to sit around and let this joker hold a gun on us all night?” he asked.
“You have a better idea? One that doesn’t get any of us hurt?”
“It wouldn’t be hard to—”
“And gets Daddy out of debt?”
“Oh, well, if you’re gonna get picky.”
“I’ll tell you what I’d like to do,” Fayrene said in a heated whisper. “I’d like to shoot that George character right between the eyes for threatening Ralphie, for making him let them do whatever it is they’re doing out there in the pasture tonight. And I’d do it, too, put a bullet between his eyes, but he’s got the key to the gun cabinet.”
“Mama, I don’t want to hear any more talk about shooting.”
Fayrene huffed and folded her arms beneath her breasts, making them look even larger.
Melanie dared a glance at Caleb and found him staring somewhere in the vicinity of the top of her mother’s head. Bless his heart, he was working diligently to avoid offending anyone by staring at her mother’s chest. Melanie, unable to avoid staring herself— it was, after all, quite a sight—had to admire his tact and control.
Maybe in about ten years she might get used to her mother’s new look. Maybe.
“We’ll just have to grit our teeth and wait this out,” Melanie said.
Caleb hoped it would be that simple, but he had his doubts. Why would George and his pals want to leave a bunch of witnesses who could identify at least two of them?
On the other hand, if things went according to plan, the only charge that would stick would be home invasion, if that was a legitimate charge, because Caleb and the others would never get near this so-called merchandise and wouldn’t know what it was. The only evidence would be tire tracks in the pasture.
So they seemed to be more or less stuck here, waiting it out, then letting the bastards go. Hoping the bastards would let them go.
He turned the situation over in his mind and thought maybe it wouldn’t be in this Bruno character’s best interests to leave a bunch of dead bodies around. He was obviously, in addition to whatever this business tonight meant, a bookie. How could he make any more money off Ralph if he killed him?
Then, too, if George was bent on killing them, why hadn’t he already done it?
One thing was certain. If they all got out of this alive, Caleb was going to butt his nose in and have a serious talk with Ralph. The man had no right to endanger his wife and daughter this way. Granted, he probably hadn’t know Fayrene was here, but he had deliberately brought George into Melanie’s home. Whatever Caleb had to do to see that such a thing never happened again, including tying Ralph up and tossing him in a closet, he would do.
* * *
The hours of the evening and night crawled by at a snail’s pace. It was just after one in the morning when two pairs of headlights cut across the backyard.
Ralph jumped to his feet. “Is that them?”
George waved him back. “Stay there. I’ll check on it.”
But when George moved to the kitchen, everyone got up and followed him. George opened the back door and looked out. Ralph and Fayrene followed him, while Melanie went to the window over the kitchen sink.
Caleb stood at her back and looked out over her head. He placed a hand on her shoulder for the simple reason that he couldn’t go another single minute without touching her.
When she raised her hand toward his, he knew she was going to push his hand away. But she didn’t. Instead she stroked his fingers, sending hot shivers up his arm. Then, with her back still turned toward him as she watched out the window, she threaded her fingers through his and squeezed.
Outside, a two-toned pickup with a white camper shell covering the bed drove beneath the utility light, then past the barn and on toward the pasture over the rise, down near the spot where Melanie and Caleb had made love that day. A small, light-colored car followed.
Out at the edge of the yard, near the mouth of the driveway, Little Donnie waved his flashlight. To signal back, George flipped the porch light on and off.
Several minutes later the small car came back from the pasture. As it passed beneath the utility light, two people were plainly visible where there had been only one before.
The car stopped for the driver to speak to Little Donnie, then drove away.
“Now what?” Melanie wondered aloud.
George shooed her parents back inside the house and pulled a cell phone from his pocket. He pressed a couple of buttons and put the phone to his ear.
“It’s George,” he said. “The truck’s here, and Hank’s bringing the driver to you right now. Yeah, everything’s fine here. The daughter’s boyfriend showed up, but he’s behaving himself. Okay, boss, we’ll see you when you get here.”
George ended the call and slipped the cell phone back into his pocket.
“Now what?” Melanie asked again.
“Now we wait.”
“We’ve been waiting,” she said tartly.
“And the first part is over. The goods have arrived. As soon as the driver checks in with Bruno, Bruno and some of the guys will come down and divvy up the goods, then we’ll all go home and you good people can have your lives back.”
“Wouldn’t that be nice,” Melanie muttered. “How long might this next part take?”
George shoved the back door shut and locked it. “It’ll take as long as it takes. Might as well make yourselves comfortable. In the living room, if you please.”
Fayrene heaved a huge sigh, which made her chest rise to impressive levels. George nearly drooled.
“Well,” Fayrene said. “If we’re going to be up and awake, we might as well have some coffee. Is it all right if I make coffee?” She smiled coyly at George.
Ralph pulled his gaze away from his wife’s breasts long enough to scowl at her.
“Sure thing, Mrs. Pruitt. I’d like some coffee.”
“Fine, then.” Fayrene all but batted her lashes at him. “You all just go right on and make yourselves comfortable. I’ll start the coffee.”
“All right, everybody, let’s go have a seat,” George said.
“I’ll stay and help Mama,” Melanie said, turning toward the coffeemaker on the counter without giving him a chance to object.
When the others had gone to the living room Melanie hissed at her mother, “What are you doing, playing up to that creep?”
“Just watch your mother, baby, and learn a thing or two.”
“What are you up to?” Melanie whispered.
“Shh. Get me a filter. Where’s the coffee? You’ve moved it.”
Together they managed to take twice as long to start the coffee brewing as Melanie would have alone. But it was so good to have her mother home that Melanie didn’t mind the added confusion in the least.
Melanie stared as the coffeemaker sent hot water streaming through the coffee in the filtered basket and out into the carafe. “We’ve missed you, Mama. Both of us.”
Fayrene stood next to her daughter and stared at the same sight. “I’ve missed you. Both of you. I’m sorry about the money I’ve been spending. I didn’t realize…”
Melanie frowned and looked at her mother. “How could you not realize? We’ve never had the kind of money you’ve been spending.”
Fayrene heaved a sigh. “Okay, I guess I knew that. I don’t think I cared. All I ever wanted was his attention, you know?”
“Oh, Mama.” Melanie wrapp
ed an arm around her mother’s shoulders and laid her head on her shoulder. “He loves you. He’s been so lonely without you. I wish…”
“I know, baby, I know. I wish it, too. But don’t give up on us yet. I haven’t. So, what’s this I hear about Sloan getting married?”
Melanie straightened away from her mother. “He got married last summer. Where did you hear it?”
“I have my ways. What I want to know is why you didn’t tell me yourself.”
Melanie gave her mother a wry smile and took the sugar bowl from the cabinet. “Because I didn’t want to hear what you’d have to say about it.”
“I would have said I was disappointed in you. I always had such high hopes.”
“So did I, and I have no idea why. He never gave me any reason to hope. He was always honest with me. Emily’s perfect for him. I like her.”
Fayrene took five mugs from the cabinet and lined them up on the counter. “It was smart of you to go after Caleb, then.”
“I didn’t go after Caleb,” Melanie protested. “He’s just been helping me out. We’re just friends.”
“Mmm, hmm. If you say so, baby.” she said with a big smile and wink.
“No, Mama,” Melanie said firmly. “No, no, no. Caleb and I are friends. Best friends. Just like we’ve been all our lives.”
“If you say so.”
“What are you doing?” Melanie hissed.
Fayrene’s purse had been sitting on the counter where she’d put it when she’d walked in the door that afternoon. She reached into it and pulled out a bottle of prescription medicine. She shook three capsules into her hand.
“It’s time for someone to take a nap, don’t you think?”
Melanie’s eyes bulged. The dosage on the bottle said one capsule. “Is that for George? You’ll kill him.”
“Of course I won’t.” Then she frowned. “I don’t think three will kill him. No, three won’t kill him, I’m sure they won’t. Besides, we have to counteract the caffeine, don’t we?”
“Mama.”
“Shh. Just remember, the Transylvania mug is his.”
Melanie snapped her mouth shut. Their coffee mugs were all souvenirs from vacations, rodeos, cattle-buying trips, et cetera. When Melanie was in high school they’d gone through a little town in Louisiana named Transylvania. Everything in the town, she remembered, had a bat on it. The mug they’d brought home with them was no exception. A vampire bat.
“After all,” Fayrene said, “it’s as plain as Lucy and Ethel that he’s nothing but a bloodsucker.”
“Lucy and Ethel?”
Fayrene arched her back and stuck out her chest. “Baby, when they’re this big they deserve names of their own.”
“Mama, that’s—” Melanie snickered. “That’s awful.”
“Whatever. He works for a bloodsucker, and he is a bloodsucker.”
Melanie shook her head. Her mother had always had a sly, sneaky streak. “Shame on us. You pour, I’ll serve.”
It was all Caleb could do to keep from bouncing his knee in agitation. What were Melanie and her mother doing out there in the kitchen? How the hell long did it take to brew a pot of coffee, for crying out loud?
She was safer in the kitchen. If she stayed in the kitchen. But she was just crazy enough to try something foolish. What, Caleb couldn’t imagine.
A moment later he let out a quiet breath when she walked into the living room carrying two mugs of coffee. She handed the first to him, then turned away before he could say thanks.
“George?” She crossed to the far end of the sofa where their keeper sat. “Do you want cream or sugar? We don’t have cream, but we have milk and that fake powder stuff.”
“Black’s fine. Thanks. I really appreciate y’all taking this so well.”
“No problem,” she told him. “It’s almost over, right?”
She was much too nice and accommodating, Caleb thought. She was up to something.
George blew on his coffee. “That’s right. It’s almost over.”
Melanie turned away and went back to the kitchen. She returned a moment later with her own mug of coffee, and Fayrene followed with a mug for Ralph and herself.
Caleb nearly choked at the way Fayrene squirmed her rear in those skintight jeans as she sat down between her husband and the goon. He was almost positive that she brushed her breast against George’s arm. The man nearly dropped his coffee.
“This is good,” George said a moment later when he had steadied himself. “Everybody sitting around drinking coffee. This is good. I mean, it’s not like anybody’s being kidnapped or anything. I mean, Ralph here agreed to it, said it wouldn’t be a problem. Isn’t that right, Ralph?”
Ralph gave a grunt and took a sip of his coffee.
“Sure is good coffee, Mrs. Pruitt,” George said.
“Thank you, George,” she said with a little wiggle of her rear and shoulders.
“Kind of a nutty taste to it.” He turned the mug up and drained it.
“It’s a special blend I get in Phoenix,” Fayrene told him.
Ralph looked down into his mug and frowned. “Tastes like plain ol’ c-c-c—”
Fayrene twisted on the sofa until one breast rubbed against Ralph’s arm. His words stuttered to a halt.
Caleb’s head swam. Suspicious one minute, amused the next, he didn’t know what to think or feel.
Then he was just plain stunned when George let out a small snore.
Fayrene smiled serenely and took the mug from his hand before it fell to the floor.
Ralph leaned forward to peer at George, on the other side of Fayrene. “What the hell? George?”
Fayrene patted Ralph’s knee and pushed herself up from the sofa, George’s mug in her hand. “He can’t hear you, hon. He’s sleeping like a baby.”
“What have you done?” Ralph cried. “Good God, woman, what have you done?”
Fayrene gave a toss of her head. “I’ve fixed it so I can go to the bathroom in my own home without having to ask permission. That’s what I’ve done.”
Caleb nearly bobbled his mug.
Ralph gaped openmouthed as his wife left the room, headed for the bathroom.
“What did she do to him?” Ralph demanded of Melanie.
“She put sleeping pills in his coffee.”
“Good God.” He stared at the empty doorway another moment, then looked over at George, snoozing peacefully at the opposite end of the sofa. He shook his head. “Woman always was full of surprises.”
“Okay.” Fayrene had returned from the bathroom. She stood before the others in the living room and propped her hands on her hips. “Now what?”
“Are you out of your mind?” Ralph roared.
“Probably,” she said tartly. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
“How long will he be out?” Caleb asked, hoping to avoid a personal argument between husband and wife.
Fayrene shrugged. “I take one pill and I’m out for eight hours.”
“How many did you give him?” Caleb asked.
She smiled. “Three. But don’t forget the caffeine he drank. And he’s bigger than I am.”
“Any way you figure it,” Melanie offered, “he’s down for the count. Or at least until we wake him. Mama, I’m so proud of you I could pop my buttons.” She threw her arms around her mother and kissed her.
“Proud of her? She might have killed this man,” Ralph protested.
“Proud of her because now we can get out to that pickup and find out just what kind of merchandise has to be delivered and divvied up in the middle of the night.”
“Are you going to argue about this?” Fayrene asked her husband.
“No,” Ralph said slowly. “No, I’m not. I never bargained to have all of you held here against your will like this. I want you all to know I’m sorry about this. I have to go through with the deal to pay off my debt. But none of you should have to be involved. Truth is, I wouldn’t have gone along with it at all if they hadn’t threatened to put me in the hospi
tal, and Melanie right along with me. But I don’t see how we’re going to do anything about it, unless you plan on drugging Little Donnie, too. And then what do we do when Bruno shows up? I owe him money. He takes money seriously.”
“Relax, Mr. Pruitt.” Caleb placed a hand on Ralph’s shoulder and squeezed. “The rest of you stay here in case Little Donnie comes up to the house for anything. I’ll slip out a back window and go check out that pickup in the pasture.”
“Now wait just a minute,” Melanie protested. “When I said we could go out there, I meant that figuratively, not literally. I’m going.”
“There’s no need for you to go traipsing around outside in the middle of the night,” Caleb claimed. “You’ll stay here. I’m going.”
“Says who?”
“Says me.”
“You think just because you gave me the best orgasm of my life that I’ve suddenly become helpless? Or stupid? Or timid?”
“What?” Ralph bellowed. “Did you say… orgasm? As in sex?”
Fayrene fanned herself. “Oh, my.”
“Melanie,” Caleb pleaded, keeping one eye on Ralph in case the man decided to grab George’s gun and come after him.
“This time last week,” Melanie declared hotly, “when all we were was best friends, you would never have questioned my going out there. You probably would have sent me on my own.”
“I would not.”
“You damn sure wouldn’t have told me to stay in the house and keep safe, like some little idiot who can’t take care of herself.”
“That’s not what I meant,” he protested.
“That’s exactly what you meant. I used to be your friend. Now you see me as the little woman. Well, I won’t have it, do you hear me? You don’t tell me what to do, you don’t protect me, you don’t take care of my problems. You got that?”
He hated it when she was right. He was thinking of her differently. He couldn’t help it. He’d held her, kissed her. Been inside her. How could he not want to see her safe and protected?
But that was his male ego talking. Melanie, he knew, would have none of it. If he wanted to keep her friendship and stay close to her, he was going to have to respect her in the ways she required in order for her to feel respected.
The Chisholm Brothers:Friends, Lovers... Husbands? Page 33