Starr Tree Farm

by Ellen Parker

  Laura flexed her back at the reference to proper lifting, a theme Kathy returned to several times during their trips between Roger’s truck and the main display area of her shop. Soon the used shelving she’d purchased from a computer ad directing her east of Eau Claire would all be inside the display area. Thanks to Kathy’s timely phone call and willingness to assist, she would have everything tidied up and be back to the farm before dark. “I crossed paths with the mother and daughter in the front unit late yesterday. I think we’ll see more of each other when I start regular hours.”

  “I think,” Kathy trailed Laura across the back porch, “you need to find local women friends.”

  “I’ve only been here a week. And I’ve not exactly been hiding.” She pulled a bundle of short supports toward her. “I’ve met Amy at the café, Marge at the library, sampled Jack’s fish fry, and attended the charity basketball game. Pardon me if I hibernated with a movie last night.”

  “Sorry. I’m not in the forgiveness business.”

  Public relations, she remembered the mayor’s description of her office. “One of these days I’d love to have you up to the farm for coffee. Maybe we can figure out Daryl if we both work at it.”

  “You better invite more than me to that party.” Kathy slammed the tailgate and picked up the plastic bucket of nuts, bolts, and washers. “He’s always been on the quiet side. Guess you knew that. Now that he’s got this investigation business going it’s even more difficult to get a response to anything that matters.”

  “For a full year I’ve been hinting — make that closer to pleading — for him to work on Scott’s case. Only since I’ve arrived has he admitted to being in touch with the St. Louis Police.”

  “That’s a start.” Kathy surveyed the collection of shelves awaiting assembly. “He’s very successful when he goes after missing persons. I have managed to get him to celebrate the end of cases. A couple of times he’s even talked more than three sentences about them. After it’s all over, of course.”

  “Wouldn’t expect less.” Laura pulled two bottles of water from the fridge and offered one to Kathy. After opening her own she took a deep breath and mixed it with courage. “May I ask you something? From one widow to another?”

  She waited only long enough for a nod before hurrying on. “Does it ever heal? Or will I have a raw hole in my heart forever?”

  “Work won’t fill it.” Kathy rested both elbows on the counter. “I tried. Came close to a physical breakdown. Our children almost kidnapped me for a long weekend to break me off my frantic little hamster wheel. I don’t think other things will ever change. Maybe I don’t want them to. Six years later now and I still make his favorite foods on birthdays and holidays.”

  “And the nights?” Laura spoke two steps above a whisper.

  Kathy’s mouth curved into a silent laugh. “Daryl’s retirement helped immensely. Let’s leave it at that.”

  Laura hid her face by looking at the floor. Her uncle in bed with Kathy? The idea flooded her body with embarrassing heat. Almost as shocking as the first time she’d imagined her parents having sex. “Sorry I asked.”

  “We’re consenting adults. Thanks for the workout and the conversation.” The mayor claimed her coat and waved on her way out the front door.

  Roger’s truck started on the first turn of the key five minutes later. Laura backed out of the parking space and punched the radio button.

  “Stock up on the basics, listeners. The leading edge of the storm we’ve been tracking is tickling the western edge of the metro area. This system has packed high winds and ten inches of snow in a path from Bismarck to central Minnesota.” The announcer completed the segment with numbers to call for updated road conditions.

  Laura glanced at the gas gauge, less than half a tank with a storm on the way. She turned toward Harter’s to fill it on her way home. Front Street businesses and half a dozen students walking away from St. Mathias filled her view.

  Who? What? She held her breath and halted her foot before it hit the brake.

  Brad stood on the sidewalk close to a small woman wearing a bright blue puffy jacket. Very close. Embracing.

  All moisture fled from Laura’s mouth as her mind registered the kiss. A public display of affection with one half of the pair the very same man who held and kissed her last night. He whispered such comforting things mere hours ago.

  Liar. Trickster. He was nothing more than another untrustworthy male with a smile.

  She kept her hands firm on the steering wheel, and turned at the next cross street. Her throat spasmed and she blinked at threatening tears while driving to her next errand. For a long moment she remained in the cab after stopping at the gas pump.

  “Grow up, girl. His older sister said he liked multiples. Scott’s the one who deserves your deepest emotions. All that touchy, sweet word stuff comes at a steep price. Protect your heart.”

  Several minutes later, Laura returned the gas pump handle to the holder. The first flakes of the forecasted storm drifted down against the black and gold sign Harter’s Essentials over the door. With a deep breath she turned toward the small, general purpose store, determined to stock up on some basics.

  “Do you have tea bags?” Laura selected a package of gum from the display.

  “Second aisle, toward the back.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Greetings, Mrs. Tanner.”

  Laura halted, searching for the words to answer that now familiar voice. “Mr. Wilcox. This is a surprise.”

  He closed the freezer door on the meat display before facing her directly. “We’re in a small town. Or have you forgotten?”

  “Not at all. Merely thinking of other things.” She advanced half a step and reached for a box of assorted herbal teas. She retreated deep into the collar of her parka as the skin on her neck quivered under his stare. With more poise than she’d imagined possible, she gestured to the package in his hand. “Buying your supper?”

  “Something like that. And you?”

  “In case I get snowed in,” she held up the bright colored box. “Is that your Jeep? The red one at the end of the building.”

  “Yes, matter of fact. Last year’s model. Are you a car aficionado?”

  “That’s too strong a term. It’s more like a casual interest. Thought I’d get a start on learning people by their vehicles. Isn’t that the local custom?”

  He laughed short. “The valley has all sorts of unique customs. The hills and ridges hide all sorts of peculiarities.”

  “I understand you live on Robert’s Ridge, near the tree farm.”

  “Is that a problem?”

  She walked to the cashier and set her items down. “No. You get to live where you decide. So do I.”

  On Scott’s face that triple blink meant surprise. Is it the same for his double?

  A minute later, Laura concentrated on making a casual departure from the store. Even as she overheard portions of the exchange between Myles and clerk, her skin prickled, signaling that she remained under the man’s inspection.

  • • •

  “Get, beastie!” Laura yelled at the final steer in the yard, the one standing as calm as a six hundred pound statue. “Don’t you know there’s a storm coming?”

  Taffy and Cocoa trotted large arcs behind the stubborn animal in their imitation of cattle herding while light, wind-driven snow swirled across the ground. Cocoa darted in, nipped at the steer’s left heel, and flattened before the reflexive kick could connect with her head.

  “Move!” Laura pulled a damaged leather leash from her coat pocket and flicked it against the animal’s black hip. All her hustle and rushing after leaving Harter’s weighed on her like leaden waste. Was this a mysterious bovine idea of a reward for changing into a barn jacket and boots after her full day away from the farm? The wind picked up even as sh
e stood there in an unsatisfactory stare down with an Angus. “Don’t look at me for sympathy. Go inside before your friends get all the grain.”

  In the next breath the steer stepped forward. He moved in a dignified, four-legged march to the shed door, entered, and joined the group of oldest animals already in the first pen on the right.

  Laura rushed across the yard and pulled the lower half of the door closed behind her. She moved down the aisle latching the individual pen gates and counting animals. Fourteen. All present. “Finally. What happened to the concept of animals sensing the weather? The grain and fresh water is inside. Uncooperative males.”

  Well, what should she expect? Uncle Daryl held more layers of secrets than she’d suspected. And while it was foolish to expect him to share confidences with her she’d still like clear, rather than cryptic, answers to questions.

  Brad managed to use sincere words and tiny acts of kindness to soften her defenses. He repeated them often enough that she’d been lulled into a feeling of safe friendship. Perhaps it was a good thing she’d witnessed his public display of affection on the sidewalk this afternoon.

  Then there was Myles. His physical resemblance to Scott put her on guard. But the insurance man spoke as if holding back his honest opinion and stared at her with more interest than she invited.

  A few minutes later, the usual sounds of livestock jostling for the last lick of ground grain dominated the shed. Laura set a large bucket under the faucet and turned on the water before claiming a seat on a nearby upside down pail.

  “What do you think, Taffy?” She rubbed the dog’s thick coat. “Will two buckets of water be enough? We lose the water system if the electricity goes out. Yes,” she leaned away from collie kisses. “Roger claims they haven’t lost power for more than an hour at a time in recent years. Nervous city girl wants to be prepared.”

  Laura finished the chores and slipped out of the narrow gap in the machine storage side of the building into fine, stinging snow. The wind carried finer snow than before she’d gotten the animals into the snug cattle shelter, and more of it. Electric lines from both sides of the dusk-to-dawn light pole swayed above her, contracting in the cold until little slack remained. She tipped her face down, away from the worst of the flying snow and plodded to Roger’s workshop. Visual inspection and a weak shake of both doors assured her the peg and hasp system was in place.

  A few moments later, she banged into the calm of the back porch, shed her outside clothes, and descended to the basement. If stubborn steers rated a reserve of drinking water, she deserved a bucket or two of her own to flush the toilet. She pulled two clean five-gallon pails from under the shelves of canned goods. It would be just a short delay to get the emergency supplies in order, and then she’d take a long shower and have a hot meal. Tonight would be a time to pamper herself.

  The flickering lights made her hurry her steps.

  Chapter Fourteen

  He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and wiggled his toes. Heated hunting socks aside, waiting in the cold and dark tested his patience. The storm increased around him and he remained huddled under a white poncho at the edge of the tree farm.

  Mind games. Think like Jason. If she’s not gone quickly, these toes will test warm Brazilian sand instead of Wisconsin snow.

  Ten minutes ago, she’d gone into the house. He’d settled at this vantage point long before that and held silence while she worked with the steer. Cattle up close made him nervous. In his limited experience they were large, messy, and impulsive.

  Through his low light monocular he spotted her at the kitchen window. He checked his watch and decided to wait. His lips moved in a silent request. “Go to the bedroom. Take a long hot bath. Turn up the television and ignore anything you hear from outside.”

  A full five minutes later, she left the kitchen and vanished into the back of the house. His gaze roamed around the other buildings. One of the dogs walked out from behind the haystack and raised her nose to the wind.

  He swallowed back apprehension and replaced it with an image of the doggie treats in his pocket. According to his pet owner friends, the amount of sleeping aid he’d mixed into ground beef would not harm the animals. The meat would distract and the medicine would quiet them temporarily. He only needed ten minutes inside the metal building. Fifteen at the most. Add a few more to jog to his truck and he’d vanish into the storm.

  Jason. Need to think of myself as Jason tonight.

  He eased to his full height and moved out from behind an overgrown white pine. The wind covered any sound from his footsteps as he advanced to the deep shadow at the end of the workshop. With his back flat against the building he cleared the corner and worked his way toward the sliding door.

  A collie emerged from the larger shed and barked twice.

  “Nice doggie.” He reached into his pocket and closed a gloved hand around a special, semi-frozen, raw meatball. A moment later, when both dogs eyed him from a few paces away, he tossed them each a treat.

  One sniff and the canines plucked the drug-laced meat from fresh snow.

  He followed it with a second for each of them before pulling the peg in the latch and pushing against the heavy door.

  The moment he slipped inside the workshop he rolled the door closed. No sense in having a dog in here with me. He clicked on his flashlight and scanned the space. Lawn and garden equipment parked close together occupied this end of the building. He worked his way past a cart-mounted sprayer to the workbench. Pale light from high windows supplemented the flashlight in his hand. He skimmed his gaze over pegboards of small power implements on heavy-duty hooks and electrical outlets at the back of the bench.

  It took him less than five minutes to rig the accident. A soldering iron plus enough associated materials to imitate a job interrupted formed the core of it. A few rags from an open box proved convenient. The strategic placement of a portable gas can finished the set up. He scraped insulation from a small section of cord, plugged in the soldering iron, and exited.

  The dogs followed him around the corner but didn’t bark. When he curved around the evergreen, he glanced back and spotted them huddled together at the edge of the circle of light vomiting into the snow.

  Come on. Jason encouraged the engine, goosed the accelerator, and his small truck surged forward through the growing snowdrift. He guided his pickup to the center of the road and passed the buildings at Starr Tree Farm with the headlights off.

  • • •

  Laura wrapped a clean towel around her freshly washed hair. Her mouth curved into a small smile at the sight of the flashlight resting on the vanity. It sent a supplemental but unnecessary spot of light against the white bathroom wall. So she overreacted. The electric and water systems worked exactly as designed after that one short blink. She could follow her pre-storm plans and go from shower to supper to a movie in the farmhouse collection.

  That is, if she could shake thoughts of Brad. His voice, his touch begged a comparison with Scott, but she refused to let the two men into her mind at the same time.

  Brad’s kiss — make that plural — had stirred desire and pleasure out of hibernation. Their conversation in the shop following the mustard-tinged kiss appeared sensible at the time. The scene on the back porch last night and the impulsive words in his truck that preceded it made her breath stutter.

  She needed to be more cautious. Nothing good would come from sharing with him. It didn’t matter that he worked as a private investigator. A profession’s code of ethics didn’t cancel a personal life. That brief scene on Front Street, in plain sight of the entire Crystal Springs grapevine, proved his kisses and fine words were nothing more than male powered hot air.

  “I’ve got to find a balance,” she told the empty house as she pulled on her warmest pajamas and robe. Scott deserved her continued love as well as justice. Moving on with the practical, visible
aspects of her life didn’t change the basics. If she needed to wrestle with feelings of betrayal, it should be about her part in the kisses with Brad.

  She picked up a wide-toothed comb and began to work it through tangled hair. With every blink she caught an image of Brad embracing the brunette. Who was she? Did Laura really know anything about his friends? It could be a nurse or physical therapist he pursued. Why did she care?

  Betrayal? Jealousy? Laura discarded each label. She wasn’t prone to that sort of thing. As recently as yesterday, after the conversation turned away from dead cats, phone calls, and threats she’d experienced a joy and optimism listening to Kathy and Daryl’s exchanges. A bachelor and a widow made a delightful couple. When I’m not the widow.

  She wandered into the dining room, removing tangles with one hand and tracing the rings with one finger of the other. The edge of Scott’s ring represented loss. For a year now she’d been alone, living the lesson that planning and doing went so much easier with a partner. I should be grateful for the years we shared.

  The dusk to dawn light illuminated swirling snow. Her footprints from the end of chores appeared as shallow marks, almost drifted smooth.

  “What are they doing?” Her gaze followed Taffy and Cocoa moving restlessly in front of the workshop. One collie raised her head as if barking an alarm but through the double paned windows all Laura could hear was a faint swish of wind wrapping around the house. The other dog pawed at the sliding door.

  Where had their sensible survival skills gone? They should be in the shed, curled up against each other on one of the broken straw bales.

  The longer Laura observed the dogs, the stranger their behavior appeared. After a few moments she gave in to her curiosity and headed for the back porch. She found a pair of boots oversized enough to accept her feet, slippers and all. She shrugged into a barn jacket, grasped her damp hair and twisted it to fit under a knit cap. Phone. Flashlight. She detoured into the kitchen, jerked her smartphone off the charger, and stuffed it into her coat pocket. She dropped a Maglite in beside it and hurried to the door.