Farraday Country

by Chris Keniston

  “I…” Kelly looked down at her phone. “It’s Ned. He’s on his way back from towing in a trailer from Ken Brady’s. Will meet me in about an hour.” Her gaze met his and lovely green eyes blinked. “Guess I won’t be getting home in time for supper.”

  “Then join me at the café?”

  Those pretty green eyes widened a second time.

  “Just dinner,” he said quickly. Meant to reassure her that he had no untoward intentions, the way the light in her eyes immediately dimmed, he wondered if maybe he’d said the wrong thing. “Please.”

  Her slight nod was less than reassuring that he hadn’t somehow hurt her feelings. While Ian slammed the hood of the car shut, Kelly retrieved her purse from the backseat and stood smiling in front of him. “All set.”

  Maybe he’d been wrong in his snap assessment. Maybe he hadn’t said anything wrong. Then again, with women, what did he know?

  They’d progressed only a few feet when she slowed her pace. “Is there any news on my…” she glanced left then right and whispered, “arrest?”

  So wrapped up in the stretch of fence they’d stumbled on today, Dale’s call earlier in the afternoon had completely slipped his mind. “Yes. I’m sorry. It’s been a busy day, but everything is straightened out. You don’t have to reappear in court, and there won’t be anything on your record.”

  Only a foot away from her, he could hear the deep sigh of relief. He was an idiot for not having called her right away, or at least having made sure that DJ called her. He felt two inches tall knowing that she had been worried about this all afternoon while his mind had been on missing calves.

  “Thank you so much for answering DJ’s phone, and everything else. I don’t even want to think about what would’ve happened if I’d had to sleep there all night or worse spend a few days in jail. I owe you. All of you.”

  Reaching for the café door, Ian smiled. “That’s what friends are for.”

  “Thank God.”

  “Well there.” Abbie waved. “Didn’t expect to see you back in town so soon. Looks like Finn was wrong, you hold up just fine after a day’s work.”

  Ian had to laugh out loud. He didn’t know what the heck his cousins thought he did all day long in his regular job, and he would be the first to admit there were some days that were easier than others, but there were other days when he worked twice as hard as any of his cousins. Ranch or no ranch.

  “Just two, expecting someone else?”

  “Only two,” Ian answered.

  Abbie scooted around the counter. “Take any spot. I’ll be by in a second with some water and to take your order.”

  “Make mine iced tea please.” Kelly smiled at the café owner. A nice smile. Bright, sincere, nice to see.

  At the table the two had barely slid in place when Abbie appeared, drinks in hand. “Special tonight is pasta puttanesca.”

  “I don’t remember Frank making that before.” Kelly frowned.

  Abbie waved a finger at no one in particular. “Seems while he was helping out at your house, he and your grandpa got to talking about their time in the military. Apparently both of them spent a good deal of time in Italy. Your grandpa in the Navy, and Frank in the Marines.”

  “Oh boy.” Kelly winced. “I hope Gramps didn’t offend Frank.”

  “Offend?” After a short time helping corral chickens, Ian couldn’t imagine such a sweet old man offending anyone. Especially someone as gruff and tough as Frank.

  “I think jarhead is the kindest thing I’ve ever heard Gramps say about a Marine. And if I’m not mistaken, Marines don’t take very kindly to that word.”

  “Maybe not,” Abbie shrugged one shoulder, “but from what I understand they got along like a house on fire. And whatever they talked about, it’s had Frank whipping up old recipes left and right. I’m just glad nobody’s asked me to translate puttanesca.”

  This time Ian bit back a smile. One of Naples many claims to fame is their whore style pasta, though no one can really agree how the spaghetti sauce got its name.

  “Whatever it means, I’m sure it will be delicious,” Kelly nodded. “I’ll try it.”

  “Make that two,” Ian added.

  “Two pasta puttanescas coming right up.”

  Ian waited a few moments for Abbie to walk away before speaking. “How are the repairs on the house coming along?”

  “Fine. He pops over for about an hour after the café closes and does a little here, a little there. Frank does construction as well as he cooks.”

  “I’m not surprised. Do you know what he did in the Marines?”

  “No idea.” Kelly flipped her hand palm up. “I actually know very little about him. It sounds like my grandfather may know more about him now than anybody else in town. Except maybe Abbie.”

  “That woman would’ve made a great bartender. I wouldn’t be surprised if she knows everyone in town’s secrets.”

  Kelly failed to hold back a laugh. Ian thought she had a nice smile, but he liked her laugh even more. Actually, now that he took a few seconds to think about it, there was quite a bit about Kelly he liked. Too bad he wouldn’t be around long enough to do anything about it.

  ****

  Kelly didn’t know where to look. She was sure every time Ian smiled at her, she probably blushed like a crushing school girl. She’d spent more time with Ian Farraday in the last two days then she had her entire life. And she’d spent plenty of time as a teenager spying on all the Farraday brothers and cousins. They’d all been off limits, but she hadn’t minded getting an eyeful. By the time she’d graduated high school and gone off to college, she’d developed a healthy immunity to Grace’s brothers, and she’d thought the cousins too. Until now. She may feel like a little sister around Adam and his brothers, but none of the things she was feeling right now with Ian were even remotely related to a big brother.

  “Speaking of which,” Kelly fiddled with the straw in her glass, “if the rumors of a referendum to sell liquor are true and the town decides to pass it, Abbie could get a lot more opportunity to listen to sob stories.”

  Ian shook his head. “I don’t see her serving more than wine or beer with dinner.”

  “True.” Kelly shrugged. “Still, with some folks that’s all it takes.”

  “Honestly, with all the hoops required to jump through to get a liquor license, I wouldn’t be surprised if she declares the café a Bring Your Own Bottle restaurant”

  “Hey man,” Ken Brady paused at their table shoving a hand in front of Ian, “I heard you’d be around for a couple of weeks. We should hit Butler Springs Friday night.”

  Ian glanced up. “Maybe. We’ll have to see how the week goes.”

  “Turning into an old man already?” Ken laughed. He was closer to Finn’s age than Ian’s and Kelly could see by the flash in Ian’s eyes that he didn’t appreciate the jab at his age. “By the way, have you heard if there’s any truth to the rumor about the referendum?”

  Hefting one shoulder in a lazy shrug, Ian shook his head. “Nothing confirmed.”

  Ken lit up like a Christmas tree. “Hot damn. Dear Lord, may we please finally get a nightspot of our own so we don’t have to drive all the way to the Boots and Scoots in Butler Springs.”

  “I don’t mind.” Abbie set two plates down on the table. “You want to dance closer to home, that’s fine, but the last thing I need is any competition for my dinner customers.”

  Ken slung an arm across Abbie’s shoulder. “Tell you what, if the referendum turns out to be more than a rumor, and it passes, you clear out a few tables for a little boot scooting and a beer, and I’m all yours.”

  Abbie rolled her eyes and slid out from Ken’s resting arm. “I may have to reconsider,” she teased.

  The bell announcing another patron sounded as DJ and Becky walked in. It took the man only a few seconds to scan the place and zero in on his cousin.

  “Looks like we’re going to need a bigger table.” Kelly glanced across the café. “Are you expecting someone?”
she asked Ken.

  “Actually, I’m here to pick up an order. Mom’s not feeling well and the last thing anybody wants is my dad in the kitchen.”

  DJ reached the table. “Did he start another fire?”

  “Oh please,” Kelly sighed, “don’t mention fires.”

  “Sorry, Kel.” DJ winced.

  “No more fires,” Ken answered, “and we want to keep it that way.”

  “Might as well pull up a chair while you’re waiting.” DJ pointed to the table beside them, then gestured to his cousin. “Why don’t you sit on the other side so I can sit with Becky?”

  “Don’t make the man move.” Becky moved to Kelly’s side of the table.

  It wasn’t often she saw the town police chief pucker his lower lip in a near pout. Actually, she’d never seen the town police chief do that, but danged if it wasn’t what DJ’s expression looked like.

  “Don’t get your prize buckle in a twist.” Ian pushed his plate to the empty spot beside Kelly and then slid out of the booth and settled in beside her.

  Yes, she’d spent several hours in a car with the man yesterday, but there had been a console between them and she’d been more concerned over possibly being hauled back to Dallas to spend more time in jail, and what her grandfather had done to the house, rather than paying that much attention to the handsome man driving her car. Having nothing catastrophic on the horizon now left her mind wide open to notice and consider the Farraday hunk beside her.

  From across the counter by the kitchen, Abbie called out to Ken. “Five more minutes and you’ll be ready to go.”

  “Thanks.” Ken slid the chair from the nearby table and hanging his arms over the back, straddled the seat. “Since we’ve got a few minutes, did you figure anything else out about the missing calves?”

  Ian put his fork down. “Y’all have had calves go missing too?”

  “Yeah. First time we noticed it we thought someone had made a mistake. Then the second calf went missing so I mentioned it to DJ to see if anyone else in the county was having trouble.”

  DJ nodded. “And that’s what had Dad and Finn double checking the pastures.”

  “Which is when Grace found the downed fence line and the cigarette butts. Today we found a loosely repaired fence line.” Ian waved a finger at his cousin. “I was actually coming into town to talk to you about it.”

  DJ turned to Ken. “Have any more calves gone missing?”

  “Nope.” Ken shook his head. “But my place is a fraction of the size of yours. How many calves has the ranch lost?”

  “So far only one, but I put some feelers out to the neighboring ranchers to check their calf count and just a little while ago I got a call from Stan Rankin—”

  “He’s lost calves also?” Ian asked.

  “Not calves,” DJ enunciated. “Calf.”

  Ian threw his arms out palms up bumping against Kelly. “Sorry,” he said to her before looking up at his cousin. “Who steals one cow from a ranch?”

  “That would be fourteen ranches and seventeen calves over the last few months that I know of and why, dear cuz,” DJ leaned back and crossed his arms, “we’ve got you.”

  Kelly shifted her gaze from her friends seated across from her, to Ken another friend since childhood, to Ian sitting way too close beside her. From the sounds of it, she wasn’t the only one in town up to her armpits in crazy trouble.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “That nine is a diamond not a heart.” Eileen waved a finger at her friend’s cards. She’d left the ranch early for the Tuesday morning meeting after fixing breakfast and sending Sean and Ian off for the day with a packed lunch. Even though she’d skipped coffee before leaving and was barely halfway through her first cup here at the café, she could still see the mismatched card from across the table.

  Ruth Ann lowered her eyes to the straight flush she’d laid out in front of her. “Damn. How did I miss that?”

  Peering over the rim of her playing cards, Dorothy, another longtime member of the Tuckers Bluff Ladies Afternoon Social Club, stared pointedly at Ruth Ann. “Because you refuse to wear your glasses.”

  Sally May shook her head. “She’s right. If Ralph walks in the door, one of us will warn you to take off your glasses.”

  Ruth Ann squinted at her cards again.

  “Oh for land’s sake.” Eileen tossed her cards into the pot. They’d have to play the hand again anyhow. “Ralph won’t care if you wear reading glasses. This isn’t 1966. No one is going to call you Four Eyes. Heck, starting with Elton John back in the 70s and up to Lady Gaga, eyewear has become a fashion statement.”

  “Just get yourself a nice colorful pair with a few rhinestones and you’ll look great,” Dorothy said a little too happily.

  “I’m not so sure if the old goat would even notice if you’re wearing glasses.” Sally May scooped up the cards from the middle of the table.

  Ruth Ann rolled her eyes. “He’s not blind and he’s not that old.”

  “Sorry.” Sally May flashed a toothy grin. “So when is the next date?”

  “I don’t know.” Ruth Ann sighed. “I think that fire in the sink has him distracted.”

  If Ruth Ann didn’t look so forlorn, Eileen would have teased her at least a little bit.

  Dorothy cut the deck. “I’m sure once everything is back to normal, you’ll hear from him again.” Unbidden, Eileen’s mind dragged her back over 25 years to a place and time she’d long ago buried. Grace had just begun to pull herself up, her brother-in-law Sean had discarded all the nanny applicants, and Eileen had postponed her wedding again. Glen lost his temper and slammed the phone down hard in her ear. Anne Farraday had been nearby and noticing the pain in her eyes had mumbled something very similar, “Soon things will be back to normal and then you’ll hear from him again.”

  And she had. A month later he was engaged to Sally Marshall.

  “Earth to Eileen.” Dorothy waved her hand in front of Eileen’s face.

  “Sorry. What?”

  Dorothy pulled her cards close to her chest and leaned forward. “I said they’ve been mowing the old golf course. Have you heard of any plans to reopen?”

  “Why the heck would anyone want to reopen that?” Sally May paused mid-air before slipping a card into her hand.

  Dorothy shrugged. “Maybe there’s some new oil business coming in. Makes sense if someone’s wanting a liquor license that they may be wanting it for the clubhouse, which means they’d want the golf course playable, which means there’s got to be something big moving in near town.”

  “That’s an awful lot of which means and suppositions, don’t ya think?” Ruth Ann chimed in.

  “Don’t know.” Dorothy raised her brows high on her forehead and cocked her head with a smile. “Liquor referendum. Golf course getting mowed. It has to mean something.”

  “Yes,” Sally May looked up from her hand, “it means rumors take on a life of their own when people start speculating. I say we play cards.”

  Dorothy rolled her eyes, blew out a low huff, and slumped back in her seat.

  The rumor debate over, Eileen tried to focus on the cards in her hand, but her mind kept wandering back to Glen and Sally Marshall.

  “Eileen!” Three faces stared at her. Clearly she’d missed another question.

  “What?”

  “Have you heard from Finn?” Dorothy carefully enunciated as though Eileen were demented not distracted.

  “Of course not. He’s on his honeymoon.” What grown man breaks away from alone time with a new wife to call his aunt? Had all her friends gone off the deep end?

  “Like you told Ruth Ann, this isn’t 1966. The kids have cell phones with free long distance, spend more time on their apps than with human to human communication, and—”

  “Honeeeymooon,” Eileen repeated with more emphasis. “I don’t care if Finn could call Mars for free.”

  “She does have a point.” Sally May raised and lowered her eyebrows suggestively before swallowing an impish grin. />
  “Fine.” Dorothy fanned open her cards, moving them about with a tad more gusto than necessary. “Forget I said anything.”

  What Eileen wished she could forget was the unopened letter that had been sitting on her dresser for weeks. Then you’ll hear from him again.

  ****

  Ranch life started dark and early. Normally Ian would have been less than thrilled to be up even before the crack of dawn, but today he appreciated the quiet time, the hard-working time, the thinking time.

  After dinner last night, he and DJ went back to DJ’s office and mapped out a timeline of reported lost cattle, at least as many as they knew of. The only thing they could conclude was that these were either incredibly stupid thieves who didn’t stand a chance in hell of making much money, or a brilliant masterminded ring spread a lot wider than this little piece of West Texas, amassing herds of cattle virtually undetected as stolen. His bet was on the former.

  This left him spending all night mulling over possible motivation for stealing cattle. And not full grown market cows, something rustlers want, but calves. The whole thing made no sense to him, to DJ, or anyone else in the family. There was a lot of ranching background bouncing ideas around and not a single person could come up with a blessed thing.

  “You’re thinking about the missing cattle, aren’t you?” Uncle Sean asked.

  “This entire situation is one big puzzle and there are several pieces that simply don’t fit.”

  “You’re not telling me anything I don’t know.” Sean slipped off his gloves and stuffed them in his back pocket. “We’re done with this bit of fence. I’m thinking I may want to check water levels on one of the wells that has been acting up.”

  “Need some help?”

  “Nope.” Sean Farraday shook his head. “You might as well check out our pasture with the missing calf.”

  Ian smothered a smile. When he was a kid both his dad and his uncle seemed to have an uncanny ability to know what he and his cousins were up to. For a few years he would’ve believed anyone who told them the Farraday men could read minds. Even though it made no sense now, he wasn’t at all surprised that his uncle knew he’d been itching to check out the spot where Grace had found the cigarette butts. Yes, the fence had long ago been repaired, but he still wanted to see for himself. And his uncle knew it. “I’ll take the horse back to the barn and take the four-wheeler out to the pasture.”