A Rainbow Above Us

by Sharon Sala

  He thought about Gran and Aunt Ella. They didn’t even know he was coming, but they were going to get a surprise tomorrow morning. Not only had he come back to Blessings to fix their house, but he was rescuing them from the nursing home and bringing them back here to stay during the renovation. They could have his bedroom and private bath, and he’d bunk out here for the duration. There were two pieces of furniture in the living area that turned into beds, as well as another, smaller bath, and the motor home was huge by motor home standards.

  The kitchen was state of the art, so Aunt Ella would have no trouble making their meals while he was at work during the day. Whatever discomfort he experienced by giving up his space was worth it to know they were happy and safe.

  After a couple of hours, he shut down his laptop, turned off the television, and went to take a shower. He emerged a short while later wearing an old pair of gym shorts that he slept in, then put his cell phone on the charger and the Taser next to the handgun before crawling into bed. He thought about setting the alarm clock, and then fell asleep before he did it.

  But as it turned out, a different alarm, the car alarm, went off just before daylight. Bowie swung his long legs out of bed, grabbing the Taser as he raced to the front door. The moment he opened it, the security alarm inside his home began going off, too, but he didn’t stop to disarm it.

  Motion-detector lights were already on as he ran out, highlighting the fact that his Cherokee had just been keyed, and then he caught sight of a teenage boy running away.

  “Stop!” he yelled, but the kid didn’t slow down.

  Bowie had the advantage with longer legs, and as soon as he got close enough, he fired the Taser. The prongs hit the middle of the boy’s back, and seconds later, he was on the ground, writhing in pain.

  The couple in the fifth wheel came out, looking wild-eyed and scared.

  “Everything’s okay!” Bowie said. “But I need you to call the police. I just caught someone vandalizing my car.”

  The older man waved to indicate he’d heard and darted back inside their trailer, while the woman just stood there, staring.

  It occurred to Bowie, a little too late, that the old gym shorts he slept in were seriously small, and he was close enough to naked that the possibility of being arrested for indecent exposure might exist. Nothing like bringing down the house his first morning here.

  He knelt down beside the kid and pulled the barbs out of his back, then grabbed him by the arm and yanked him upright.

  “What name do you go by besides Dumbass?” Bowie asked.

  The kid just shook his head. Either he was still reeling from the shocks, or he wasn’t willing to talk.

  “Fine. Dumbass works for me,” Bowie said, and dragged him back to the car, shut off the alarm, and then opened the hatch. He pulled out a roll of duct tape and taped the kid’s wrists together behind his back, then sat him down and taped his legs together at the ankles.

  “That hurts,” the kid muttered.

  Bowie looked up. “No, it doesn’t, and we both know it.”

  The kid started to respond, and then the look on Bowie’s face changed his mind.

  By now, lights were coming on all over the trailer park and men were coming out carrying everything from hunting rifles to baseball bats. Bowie watched one big redheaded man stomping toward them, waving a bat and yelling.

  “What the hell’s going on?”

  Bowie pointed at his prisoner. “Damned kid keyed my car and set off the security alarm. Don’t let him move. I need to shut off the alarm inside.”

  The man glared down at the kid, who persisted in staring at his own feet.

  Bowie bolted through the doorway, turned off the alarm, then ran toward his bedroom, grabbed the jeans he’d taken off last night, put them on, and was back outside within less than a minute.

  “Thanks,” Bowie said. “I’m Bowie James. I appreciate the help.”

  “I’m Yancy Scott, but most everybody calls me Red. That’s some rig you have there. You must have come in last night.”

  Bowie nodded. He could hear sirens. “Sorry about all the noise. It wouldn’t have happened except for the dumbass who refuses to identify himself.”

  Red grinned. “I don’t know his name, but I do know he’s Emmitt Boone’s boy.”

  Bowie turned around and stared. “Is that so?” he said. “Did your daddy send you, or was this all your bright idea?”

  The kid looked up, and the hate on his face was easy for Bowie to read.“You broke my daddy’s nose last night,” he said.

  “Why, yes, I did. I don’t suppose he mentioned that he and your uncle, Melvin, ganged up on me in the parking lot at Granny’s. Mel had brass knuckles, and your daddy had a baseball bat. If they had minded their own damn business, none of this would have happened. And now you have done the very thing I warned them not to do.”

  The boy looked stunned by the news and then frowned. “What did you warn them not to do?”

  “Oh, you’ll find out soon enough,” Bowie said, and looked up just as the first of two police cruisers came flying into the trailer park, lights flashing and sirens screaming.

  Chief Lon Pittman was the first out of the vehicle, and his deputy, Ralph Herman, pulled up behind him and got out on the run.

  Lon quickly scanned the scene and saw only one person he didn’t know.

  “I’m Chief Pittman. What’s going on here?” he asked.

  “My name’s Bowie James. I arrived here last night and was still asleep this morning when my car alarm began going off. I ran outside with my Taser, saw the key marks on my vehicle and this dumbass running away. I chased him, tasered him, and dragged him back here so I could shut off the alarms.”

  “Woke us all up,” Red said.

  The neighbors from the fifth wheel had joined the crowd.

  “He’s telling the truth,” the man said. “Me and Jewel saw the boy running away and this fella chasing him down.”

  “I assume you want to press charges,” the chief said.

  Bowie nodded. “Yes. The damage to my Cherokee is going to cost enough to make this a felony, too.”

  The boy’s eyes widened. “I’m a juvenile. I’m only fifteen.”

  “Being stupid and underage still gets you arrested,” Bowie said.

  The kid was bordering on tears. “But Chief, he broke my daddy’s nose last night.”

  “Tell him the rest of the story,” Bowie said.

  “But I didn’t know that at the time,” the boy muttered.

  Bowie shrugged. “You can ask Emmitt and Melvin what happened last night in Granny’s parking lot and see if they want me to file charges against them, too…for assault.”

  Lon frowned. “Obviously there’s something going on here I don’t understand.”

  “Nothing but an old feud,” Bowie said.

  Lon’s frown deepened. “Between who?”

  Bowie shrugged. “You’re new to Blessings since I lived here. It was common knowledge then. My mother was raped by Randall Boone. She reported it. He denied it, and that was the end. Then she found out she was pregnant, and I am the result. They don’t like me being here. I am proof of everything they denied. Pearl James is my grandmother. Gran and Ella James are all of the family I have left. They wrote asking me to help repair what the hurricane did to their home, which is what I came to do, and then I’m leaving.”

  “I’m missing something here,” Lon said. “What’s the grudge, if no one was arrested?”

  Bowie pointed at the boy. “By the time I was his age, I was beginning to look so much like them that their denials that a rape never happened no longer held water. So they nearly beat me to death and told me to get out of Blessings. Afraid they would follow through on their promise, Mama packed up our stuff, and we ran in the middle of that same night. I haven’t been back since, until now.”

&nbs
p; Lon frowned, thinking of all the complications that could still arise.

  “Did your mother come with you?”

  Bowie’s expression went flat. “She committed suicide the day after my eighteenth birthday.”

  Lon didn’t like hearing this. It sounded like a mess that wasn’t likely to go away anytime soon. But, first things first. He looked down at the boy.

  “What’s your name, boy?”

  “Emmitt Lee, named after my daddy,” he mumbled.

  Lon reached down and pulled him to his feet, eyed the duct tape, and then glanced up at Bowie. “Car alarms, duct tape, Tasers… What else don’t I know about you?”

  “I have a Luger, a hunting rifle, and a license to carry. My motor home also has a security system and motion-detection lights. Life has taught me to be wary, if you know what I mean. I’ll get dressed and go to the police station to sign the complaint.”

  Lon nodded, then motioned to his deputy. “Hey, Ralph, come help me get him in the cruiser.”

  A few minutes later, both police cruisers were exiting the trailer park, leaving Bowie to meet his neighbors. He turned around and managed a brief smile.

  “This is a poor way to meet, and I’m sorry for all the noise. My name is Bowie James. Ella James is my aunt, and her mother, Pearl, is my grandmother. They’ll be staying with me during the renovation, so I hope you don’t hold any hard feelings toward them that you might have for me.”

  Red grinned and slapped him on the shoulder. “No hard feelings at all, dude. The Boones are a little wild and hard-nosed for my liking. I’m pleased to meet you.”

  And just like that, the crowd around him began to echo similar feelings, vowing to make sure no one bothered the ladies while they were in his care.

  “Much appreciated, and thank you,” Bowie said. “But I need to get dressed.”

  The people began drifting away, talking among themselves about the incident and feeling bad for the ladies and their flooded house. More than one woman commented about what a good-looking man that Bowie James was, but it was Jewel, the lady from the fifth wheel, who brought the conversation to a halt.

  “He’s even more good-looking without them jeans he’s wearing,” she said, and grinned.

  The women giggled.

  “And how do you know?” one asked.

  “Me and Frank saw him just as he came running out of his rig. I reckon he don’t sleep in much.”

  Giggles erupted again.

  “I might set off that car alarm again just to see that,” the woman said.

  “I wouldn’t,” Jewel added. “The Taser he used on that Boone boy looked like it caused a world of hurt.”

  Chapter 2

  Bowie was at the front desk signing the vandalism complaint when Emmitt Boone burst into the station. Even though the doctor had put a brace over Emmitt’s nose to keep it from being bumped and dislocated again, it was too swollen to ignore.

  Emmitt took one look at Bowie and turned white as a sheet. “What’s he doing here?”

  The chief looked up. “Signing a complaint against your son.”

  Emmitt gasped. “But you said when you called that he’d been arrested for vandalism. What does he have to do with it?”

  Bowie kept writing without looking up. “It was my vehicle he vandalized. Keyed the hell out of it, too. It will cost thousands to get that fixed.”

  Emmitt groaned.

  Bowie slid the complaint across the desk toward the chief. “If that’s all, I’ll be leaving now.”

  “That’s all,” Lon said.

  Emmitt started to grab Bowie’s arm, then thought better of it. “Wait! Wait! Let’s talk this out. I don’t want my kid having an arrest record.”

  “You’re the one who raised him,” Bowie said. “Besides, he’s getting off easy from me. When I was his age, you and your brothers beat the hell out of me, and I didn’t do anything to any of you. I told you what would happen if you didn’t leave me alone. I’ll see you in court.”

  Emmitt cursed beneath his breath as Bowie walked out of the precinct, then turned to the chief. “Can I talk to my boy?”

  “I suppose, after I pat you down,” Lon said, and confiscated a large pocketknife. “You can have that back when you leave.”

  “Hell, Chief! You’re treating us like common criminals,” Emmitt muttered.

  Lon shrugged. “Unfortunately, your son is a criminal now. And the cost of the repairs on Mr. James’s vehicle will turn this arrest into a felony.”

  Emmitt’s lips parted, but then he thought better of arguing.

  While Lon took Emmitt back to see his son, Bowie was on his way back to his motor home. He didn’t have any sympathy whatsoever for the kid, or for Emmitt. He hadn’t been here even twenty-four hours, and he’d been assaulted and his car vandalized. He could only imagine how the rest of his time here would play out. And, it was already daylight. Time to begin another day.

  He hurried inside and changed the sheets on his bed for his girls’ arrival, cleaned up the bathroom, and moved most of what he used daily into the other bathroom.

  Closet space was limited, so they’d have to manage with what he had, and hopefully the renovation would go smoothly and wouldn’t take too long. A half-dozen men from one of his work crews were on their way to Blessings. He’d made reservations for them at a local bed-and-breakfast and paid two weeks in advance. After that, he’d pay week by week until they were done.

  Once he had everything neat, clean, and put away, Bowie headed to Granny’s for breakfast. It wasn’t yet eight o’clock, too early to go visiting at a nursing home. He set the security alarm again, then locked up as he left.

  Frank and Jewel were sitting at a little table outside, having their morning coffee, and waved at him from the front yard.

  He grinned and waved back. Sometimes that was the extent of being neighbors in the life he led.

  By the time he got to Granny’s, the parking lot was nearly full. He hoped they didn’t run out of biscuits before he got his share. They were the best he’d ever eaten. And then it dawned on him that he’d already met the police chief, the man who was married to the baker.

  Bowie was thinking about biscuits and gravy when he walked inside. The dining room was packed, but there were a couple of vacant tables and one empty booth.

  Mercy welcomed him back as she took him to a small table.

  “Enjoy,” she said, and left the menu with him, only Bowie didn’t bother picking it up. He already knew what he wanted.

  A different waitress showed up with a coffeepot and filled the empty cup in front of him.

  “Good morning, I’m Lila. Do you know what you want, or do you need a few minutes?”

  “I want sausage, biscuits, and gravy,” he said.

  “No eggs to go with them?” Lila asked.

  “No eggs,” Bowie said.

  She smiled. “Coming right up.”

  Bowie leaned back and took a quick sip of the coffee, then set it aside to cool a bit as he glanced around the room. This morning, the other diners were staring without apology.

  He stared back until they looked away. The news was probably already spreading about the teenager who keyed his car. For the people who knew Bowie when he was growing up, the fact that the boy in jail was Emmitt Boone’s son only made the news juicier.

  His phone signaled a text. He read it and grinned. His crew was less than an hour out of Blessings. He sent back a text telling them about Granny’s, and to go ahead and get settled in the bed-and-breakfast before they ate. He’d get in touch with them later.

  When his food came, Bowie looked at the plate of browned sausage patties, the basket of hot biscuits, and a bowl of white gravy, and couldn’t wait to dig in. The first bite did not disappoint, and he ate two plates full before he stopped. He was finishing up his coffee when Lila stopped by and left his bi
ll on the table.

  Bowie left a tip and headed up front to pay. It was almost nine o’clock now, and he was anxious to go to the nursing home.

  He and the girls had stayed in touch for the past twenty years by phone calls, letters, the occasional postcard he would send, and as technology changed, now by FaceTiming on their phones. And then it occurred to him that their phone must have fallen victim to the flood, since they hadn’t called him about the house, but had written the letter instead. He’d find out details soon enough.

  He was pulling out money to pay when the entrance door opened behind him. He heard the heavy footsteps, the angry growl of a man’s voice, then saw what amounted to panic on Mercy’s face.

  “Turn around and face me like a man!” the man yelled.

  Bowie ignored him and kept talking to Mercy. “Breakfast was great. Do me a favor, and please call the police. Oh, and keep the change,” he said, and handed her cash.

  The man behind him was obviously impatient, but Bowie already knew who it was, and when Judson Boone grabbed him by the shoulder and tried to yank him around, he didn’t yield.

  Bowie shrugged off the hand, turned to face the nemesis from his childhood dreams, and took satisfaction in the shock he saw on Jud’s face.

  “Like looking in a mirror, and seeing a vision of your younger self, isn’t it? Outside,” Bowie said quietly, and pointed to the door.

  “Like hell! You don’t tell me what to do!” Jud shouted, and took a swing at Bowie.

  Bowie calmly grabbed his wrist in midair and tightened his hold until the old man grimaced.

  “I said outside,” Bowie said softly, and took off for the exit, dragging Jud with him.

  Once they were in the parking lot, Bowie turned him loose.

  “What’s the matter with you, trying to start a fight in there? You truly don’t give a shit about anything but yourself, do you?”

  Jud was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that the family bastard was his doppelgänger, and didn’t bother answering the questions. He’d come here to straighten out the mess his family was in, but was beginning to realize it might be harder than he’d expected.