Jim just watched her, leaning, almost sitting, on the kitchen table. He crossed his arms.
“Don’t you have to clean some stalls or something?”
“You know anyone named Vince?”
Christy almost dropped her mug and ended up spilling some on the floor.
Jim found a towel in a drawer and handed it to her. “I take it that’s a yes.”
“Why do you ask?” she managed. She had to keep her wits. Had to.
“Is he bad news?”
“Why do you ask?” Christy repeated.
“A man by that name was looking for you.”
“Here?” She set her mug down. She would surely drop it if she didn’t. “When?”
“Guess you were still asleep. Early this morning.”
Her voice was taking on a desperate tone, which she tried to suppress but couldn’t. “What did he say? Did you tell him I was here?”
“I said you were out, and I didn’t know when you’d be back.”
Christy was surprised he’d lied for her.
“Something about him I didn’t like,” Jim said.
“What else?”
“He wanted you to call him. And he said to tell you he’d taken care of your apartment, so you don’t have to worry.”
She stared at Jim as fear enveloped her. Taken care of her apartment? Right now her apartment and all her possessions lay in a heap of ashes. Was Vince playing games? Up until this point she’d managed to choke her suspicion that he’d set the fire—he wouldn’t do that to her!—but his cryptic message removed all doubt. He was saying something else too: Beware. I found you here, and I can do a lot worse.
Christy took a breath and tried to settle down, taking everything in. Vince had definitely planted the Hemingway in her car. He’d succeeded in killing her career and her reputation at the Barn all because she knew too much. She’d gone too far. She had dirt on him. Worse, she’d rejected him. He’d probably rationalized in that sick mind of his that if he tormented her enough she’d eventually give in, come back, and do his bidding. That could explain the fire. And he could’ve easily copied her keys. Maybe he’d truly thought it would drive her back to him. But it didn’t, and she wasn’t coming back. Maybe he was finally realizing that, and it had provoked him to stalk her all the way to the ranch.
Whatever the reason, the truth was terrifying. She was the only one who had evidence, her own eyewitness testimony, to connect him with the thefts and embezzlement at the Barn. If she disappeared, Vince’s world would continue spinning according to his plan.
“Christy?” Jim’s voice sucked her out of her thoughts. “What’s wrong? Who is this guy?”
She shakily pulled out her cigarettes and lit one before responding. He deserved an answer, but how much should she reveal? “I used to live with him,” she said, waiting for Jim’s puritanical reaction.
He only nodded. She appreciated that more than she could ever tell him.
“We worked at the same place and soon started a relationship. But I didn’t know the kind of man he was. Later, I learned.” She tapped ash into the sink. “I moved out a few weeks ago. He hasn’t gotten over it.”
“What does that mean?”
She clenched her jaw. “I didn’t tell anyone I was coming here.” She’d thought May’s ranch would be safe. But now it wasn’t at all. Not safe for her or even for May.
Christy was suddenly telling Jim more. “And I haven’t been very truthful with May. Don’t get me wrong, I came here to see her, but I also don’t have anywhere else to go. There was a fire in my apartment three days ago, and I lost everything. What Vince said about my apartment? The cops suspected arson, but I wasn’t sure.”
Jim stood a little taller and uncrossed his arms.
“He’s crazy enough to have done it. And now that he’s found me, I can’t stay here. He’s likely to hurt May to get at me. Or burn something else. I’m not willing to put May through anything more on my account, especially with what you guys are facing already.”
“He wouldn’t try anything with all of us around.”
She let out a sarcastic laugh. “Don’t underestimate him like I have.”
“Don’t underestimate me.”
Christy almost laughed again at the way he said it. There was certainty in his eyes. And if it was a matter of pure physical strength, she bet Jim could whoop Vince bad. He wouldn’t have a chance against a man who worked his muscles every day. But Vince wouldn’t go that route. He’d likely formulate some devious plan and find a cowardly way to strike, like torching a barn or poisoning the cattle. She couldn’t sit around and wait to see what method he chose. Vince wasn’t going to ruin May’s life too.
“I have to leave,” she said, throwing her cigarette butt into the sink and heading toward the living room and her suitcase. Besides protecting her sister, it would also solve the problem of what to do about her little show last night. If she was gone, there would be no more conversations. She had already wrecked any chance of having a friendship with May. This might be for the best.
Jim was right behind her. “Wait a minute. You’re safest here. Out there you’d be alone. Here, we won’t let anyone hurt you. One man can’t fight four.”
“You people can’t stop him. I’m telling you.”
“And what’s to keep this guy from following you once you leave?” His voice contained a hint of frustration.
She stopped. He was right. That was probably what would happen. Somehow Vince would hunt her down and make her pay. But at least if she left she wouldn’t be dragging May into her problems. Hadn’t she done too much of that already?
“What about May?” Jim said. “You’d leave without talking to her?”
“You can tell her for me.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Your relationship’s none of my business. But I’m not going to hurt her, and you know it would.” His next words were soft and sincere. “You’re safest with us.”
Christy wished he could be right, but he didn’t know Vince.
“Think this out. Talk to May. We can help you.”
It went against all that was screaming in her head, but she finally gave in. She could see Jim wouldn’t let her do anything else. And it was true that rashness wouldn’t get her anywhere. Maybe she could even smooth things over with her sister if she stayed a little longer.
She’d stay one more day, but that was it. Tomorrow would be another story. It was Sunday, and May had already talked about going to church. Christy could make her getaway then, without anyone to stop her.
***
Early on Sunday morning, a familiar voice woke Christy from her sleep on the sofa. She opened her eyes to see May kneeling beside her. Christy eased up on an elbow and smiled at her. She’d spent the whole day yesterday following May around, helping her and Ruth tag and vaccinate the calves in the second-day pens, and then riding with all three of them as they moved the yearling bulls closer to home. Amazingly, May never brought up the drinking or anything else, and Christy almost enjoyed herself. Almost. Vince was still lurking out there somewhere.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” May said cheerfully.
She groaned and fell back onto her pillow. With the checking for calves going on through the night, her sleep had hardly been restful. “Don’t you people ever sleep in?”
“I wish,” May said, smiling. “Hey, after breakfast we’re going to church. Come with us?”
She sat up, struggling with how to respond. She didn’t want to hurt May, but church really wasn’t an option. This was her only chance to leave. “Not this time. Some other, okay?”
May swallowed the answer like a champ, but her disappointment was obvious. It made Christy reconsider for a second. She hated to let May down, but she couldn’t afford to get sentimental now. She had to get out of here.
“Okay, then,” May said. “We won’t be long. There’s a storm on the way, so we’ll get back as fast as we can.”
> All through breakfast Christy acted bright and pleasant, but she kept catching Jim watching her from across the table. Each time their eyes met she’d look away.
After helping with the dishes, Ruth announced it was time to go, and Christy almost sighed in relief. They’d never have left her if they’d known about Vince. She was grateful for Jim’s silence, but it surprised her that he was going to let her stay alone.
She saw them out the back door, then raced into the living room. Checking to make sure what little she’d brought was stuffed in her suitcase, she stripped the sofa of its sheets and blankets, neatly folding them, and left the pile on a cushion.
In the kitchen she jotted on a scrap of paper, Something came up at work. Had to leave. Sorry. I’ll keep in touch. Thanks for everything, Love, Chris. Closing Scribbles in the house, she hastily strode to her car.
She threw her suitcase so hard it bounced on the backseat. She’d convinced herself Vince was the real reason she was leaving. If he burned her apartment, what else would he do? She didn’t want to find out. She had to escape and hole up someplace he would never find. Where didn’t matter. She’d check into another dumpy motel or something.
Christy opened the passenger door and reached across the seat to start the car and get the defrost going. This was supposed to be easy. She’d done her duty just like Aunt Edna wanted. They’d spent time together. She didn’t need to feel bad about anything. But why couldn’t she have just explained her situation to May like Jim suggested? Instead, she’d hidden it all, as usual, and hadn’t breathed a word. If she left now, in May’s eyes she’d be abandoning her. Once again.
She fished the ice scraper from the glove compartment and slammed the door. That’s when she saw Jim come out of his trailer. She swore when he walked toward her. “I thought you left for church,” she said.
“Didn’t change your mind, did you?”
Christy brushed a thin layer of snow off her windshield.
“So now you’re leaving.”
“What gave you that idea? Was it the suitcase or the keys?”
“Why won’t you talk to May about it before you go?”
She rolled her eyes. “Because I don’t want her to know I’m a loser, all right?”
“She’s not gonna think that. She cares about you.”
Christy stomped around him to the back window.
“That what you really believe?” Jim said.
“You think you know something about me? Well, you don’t know half my story. And May doesn’t, either.”
“Your sister loves you. Period.”
With the windows clear she went for the driver’s door, but Jim stood directly in her way. “Would you step aside?”
“And I know she’d only want to help. We all do.”
Christy wasn’t putting up with this anymore. She said in a low voice, “I’m asking you to let me by.”
“Look, she’s about to lose everything here. The ranch and now you too. Don’t just walk out on her like this.”
Her silence was the only answer he was getting.
He stepped out of her path and pointed to the car with a shrug. “Go ahead. Run away.”
She hesitated, then swore at him again. “You’ve got a lot of nerve.”
“But I’m right.”
That’s what bothered her. How could he see through her so easily?
“It’s always easier to run,” Jim said. “I oughta know. Ran from God for almost twenty years. About as long as you, no doubt.”
“God doesn’t have anything to do with this.”
“Then why not go to church with May?”
“I told you already. Because of Vince.” But even as she said it, she had a feeling Jim was seeing through this excuse too. Vince was a real threat, but he was also her scapegoat. If she’d had any backbone whatsoever she would have opened up to her sister, then left. She started to walk to the driver’s door, then turned around. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because you remind me of myself.” Jim tried to look into her eyes, but she wouldn’t let him. “I used to be like you.” For a second he almost appeared self-conscious, trying to find the right words. “I can see you need what I’ve found.”
Her gaze dropped to his muddy boots. “Right. I’m sure you say that to a lot of women.”
For the first time Jim seemed taken aback. “As hard as it might be for you to believe, people can care for each other without having ulterior motives. I don’t have one. You can believe that or not, but it’s true.” He walked away toward one of the pickups, and he didn’t look back.
Christy stood still, the cold wind flipping her hair into her face, her shoulders hunched. She heard his engine roar to life. Saw him drive toward her. Jim unrolled the passenger window and stopped beside her. They studied each other in silence.
“Where you going?” she said.
“Church.” He smiled a crooked smile, one she could barely detect. “Wanna come?”
Chapter 18
Christy never would’ve guessed it was a church. From the outside it looked like any other shop on Main Street, but it took up three storefronts.
“We’re hoping to have our own building soon,” Jim said, circling twice before finding a space at the edge of the packed lot. “Almost outgrown this place.” The sign said worship started at 11:15. She wasn’t sure which was worse: milling with people she didn’t know beforehand or coming into a service already started.
A cute elderly couple greeted them with smiles in the lobby decorated with fake plants. Music emanated from closed doors behind them. The couple was dressed nicely, and Christy immediately felt self-conscious about her jeans and sweatshirt. Even Jim had on clean denim and a bolo tie.
“Good to see you, Jim,” the old man said, extending a hand which Jim heartily shook.
“Same to you, Carl,” he responded, then introduced her to the couple he called the church’s faithful greeters. “Any seats left?”
“Pretty full today, but we’ll find you something.” Carl opened one of the doors, and the music boomed. Guitar, piano, drums. Somewhere a tambourine rattled. Christy saw rows and rows of people, maybe two hundred, standing, most clapping and singing to the music.
Carl scanned the room. “I’ll get some more seats.” He returned moments later and set two folding metal chairs against the back wall.
Jim thanked him. She did the same, thankful he’d put them in the back.
Above the heads of the crowd she could see the song leader, a twentysomething guy who strummed a scratched guitar and belted out the song into a standing mike. Jim started tapping his foot and soon was clapping with the rest, singing, “I’m So Glad Jesus Set Me Free.”
Christy determined to remain a spectator and kept her hands at her sides. When the song was over, some of the people raised their hands and spoke fervently to the ceiling in a bizarre way. Were they trying to talk to God?
As things calmed down, a man in his fifties with a shaved head took the platform. “Praise God. Folks, He’s right here with us, ready to meet you where you are.”
She looked around. God? In this place? There were no pews. The carpet was ratty. A ceiling tile was missing right above the guy’s head. If God was anywhere, she guessed He would at least want a church with stained glass and hymnals.
“Who’s he?” Christy whispered to Jim.
“Pastor Walt.”
A pastor in black jeans and a belt buckle the size of her purse? He wasn’t even wearing a tie.
“Thank y’all for coming out this morning,” the pastor said with a slight Southern drawl, setting a huge book on the podium. That would be his Bible, no doubt.
Just then she thought she saw May. About halfway up and over on the side with Ruth. Christy glanced at Jim as he reached into his coat and brought out a thin leather volume with the words New Testament in gold on the cover. Had she come here only to prove to him she wasn’t a coward? She remembered the things May had said the other night and had to
confess they’d made her wonder. May had something in her life that was keeping her happy and optimistic even in the face of losing her beloved ranch. What if what Jim said was true? What if this cowboy sitting beside her really did have something she needed?
Yeah, she was curious. She could admit that. Christy eyed the pastor as he walked back and forth across the stage.
“I grew up with an abusive father,” he said. “And a mom who tried to ignore it. My little brother and I lived every day fearing when our next whippin’ would be. When I was fourteen I could take it no more, and I ran away from home. Had no intention of ever returning, and I didn’t. Left my brother to fend for himself. Living on the streets, I quickly learned I could trust no one. I became hard and tough, stealing what I could to stay alive.”
Christy shifted in her chair thinking of her own childhood. They had something in common. He abandoned his brother, she her sister.
“By the time I was seventeen I’d sent three men to the hospital with serious stab wounds, dealt drugs, and stolen cars. It was then I discovered motorcycles. Got me a Harley and knew I’d found something goooood.”
The crowd chuckled.
Walt returned to the podium and held it with both hands, almost as if it were the handlebars of his bike. “Met a guy in a motorcycle gang, and he introduced me to the biker world. It was all I never had. A family. Men to look up to. I did whatever it took to be accepted by them. If that meant breaking into a store, I did it. If it meant beatin’ somebody up, I did that. Then one day I realized I was gaining respect. I had people looking up to me, something I’d never experienced before.
“I had power. But the thing was, when I got home and was by myself, I’d look in the mirror, and I wouldn’t see a big tough guy. I’d see a scared man who was searching for love.”
Walt stepped off the platform and paced slowly across the front of the room. “Then one night a bunch of us decided to have some fun. We’d been partying, and we got the idea that robbing a gas station would be a thrill. But something went wrong. When I showed my gun and demanded cash, the guy behind the counter pulled out a piece of his own and fired three rounds. All of them got me. And the thing was, my buddies, the guys who were supposed to stick by me when times got rough, ran. They left me there in a pool of my own blood waiting for the cops. I’m told I almost died, but no one visited me in the hospital. Guess they were too scared the cops would get ’em. That hurt more than the bullet holes. I felt betrayed. And I had plenty of time to think about it, ’cause it was right from that hospital bed to a prison cell for me.” He shook his head. “A lot of time to think. Was convicted of armed robbery and got six to ten.
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