Welcome to Harmony (12 page)

“But
I
mind. I’d rather sit somewhere else because I
am
interested in the rodeo.” She didn’t want to attract attention. “Let go of my arm.”

Brandon opened his mouth to say something, then looked past her and seemed to think better of it. He pulled his hand away and huffed. “Prickly little girl, aren’t you? I was just trying to be friendly.”

When she tried to move around him, he shifted his leg so she’d have to brush it to get past him on the narrow space.

Reagan
brushed
his leg hard with the heel of her shoe, a few inches below his shin.

He smiled for a second before her heel dug in, sliding down his leg, scraping skin as if it were the top layer of tree bark.

From the expression on his face it was obvious he was bleeding beneath his black jeans.

Pulling away, he let her pass, then yelled for some kid walking by to wait up. He limped down the steps, shoving people aside as he moved.

She expected to see Noah standing behind her, but when Reagan turned, no one was there. It was as if Brandon had been frightened by a ghost. No one was even looking at her.

Then she saw them. Blue jackets, just like the one over her shoulders, had moved in around her. Not so close that she’d noticed them, but close enough to make a point. She sat down as the barrel races started, aware of the blue jackets slowly moving away. Reagan had a feeling that if Brandon or someone like him returned, they’d be back.

It was a strange feeling, being protected. She’d thought she was alone watching while Preacher rode, but all along they must have been watching over her.

A few minutes later, Noah climbed the bleachers two at a time and plopped down next to her. He looped his arm lightly over her shoulders. “How’d you like my ride, Rea?”

“What ride? You fell off.”

He laughed. “I stayed on four seconds. I was halfway there. Wait until I ride the bull. I’ll make the buzzer.”

“Before you fall off?”

He nodded. “Before I fall off.”

She poked him in the ribs. “So this falling off is part of it, win or lose. Noah, doesn’t that seem strange to you? Seems like if you make the time, they should train the bulls to stop at the bell and let you get off.”

“I’ll put that in the suggestion box.” He laughed.

Thirty minutes later, he lasted five seconds on the bull before he was bucked off and rolled in the dirt and mud. She clapped, figuring he was making progress.

As the last few events wound down, the wind seemed to kick up as if pushing the crowd toward their cars. Families bundled up the kids and headed for home.

One of the blue jackets behind her walked past, his girlfriend right behind him with her hand on his shoulder to steady her.

“Wanta go down by the chutes?” the boy asked Reagan.

“You can meet up with Preacher there.”

His girlfriend nodded once, as if to reassure her.

“Sure,” Reagan said, not wanting to be the last one left in the stands.

She found Noah behind the fence. He was dusting the dirt from his jeans. When he straightened, the light reflected off something wet on his shirt.

“What’s that?” Reagan moved closer, touching the sticky liquid.

“Bull snot,” he said.

“Oh.” She wiped her finger on her jeans.

“It’ll dry”—he slapped at his leg—“but this shit I fell in is all over me.”

“Nice ride,” she managed, trying not to think about what he was covered in.

“Yeah, I almost made the time.”

She was beginning to think maybe he did have mush for brains. He didn’t seem the least upset that he’d failed at everything he’d tried tonight.

He offered her the hand he’d been using to dust off his jeans. “Want to go to the dance?”

She swallowed and took his hand. “Sure.” If it didn’t bother him that he was covered in snot and shit, she guessed it didn’t bother her. “But I don’t know how to dance.”

“Me neither.”

They listened to the music and watched the dancers for an hour, and then he drove her home, explaining all the rules of the rodeo. She asked questions more because it was fun to listen to him talk, all excited and happy, about something he obviously loved.

When he pulled into the yard, she saw Jeremiah sitting on the front porch.

“Your uncle waited up,” Noah whispered as he accepted his jacket back.

“He’s probably asleep in the chair.”

“He was worried about you,” Noah added.

Reagan doubted that, but she said, “I’d better go in before this pickup turns into a pumpkin.”

Noah grinned. “You had fun?”

“I did.” She thought of telling him that this was very nearly the best night of her life. She’d laughed more than she had in months, and she’d felt protected. For her, both were too new to be taken for granted.

“You want to go with me again next week?”

“Don’t your folks come?”

“No, my mom’s never cared for rodeo. My dad lives in Amarillo and only comes over to one now and then. My sister is usually too busy being sheriff to worry about me. It was kind of nice having someone in the stands watching me almost make the ride.”

“I’d like to come.” She thought of being hesitant, playing it cool, but she couldn’t. “Only I bring the food next week.” She’d seen a few picnic baskets and buckets of chicken. She wasn’t sure she could face another burrito that tasted like it had been made from the oldest bull.

“Fair enough,” he said as she opened the door. “See you Monday at school, Rea.”

“See you,” she answered, and hopped out of the cab. “Thanks for not turning into a werewolf.”

“What—”

She slammed the door and ran toward the house.

HANK ROLLED OUT OF BED AND PULLED ON A WORN PAIR of Levi’s as he walked across the room to answer his cell.

“Chief.” Willie’s voice was high with excitement. “We’re pulling out now. You said to call you no matter how small the fire if we took the truck out.”

Hank could hear the siren in the background. “What is it, Willie?”

“Highway patrol called in a trash fire out at the north rest stop.”

Willie had been sleeping at the fire station since he turned eighteen and his stepfather kicked him out. Brad Rister would be there tonight also. He slept there every time his wife kicked him out. Andy Daily, one of the night dispatchers across the street, would have caught a ride as well. Andy wasn’t much of a fireman, but he was an adrenaline junkie and about to starve to death in a town the size of Harmony.

“I’ll meet you there,” Hank said, and closed up his phone.

Andy and Brad were levelheaded, and Willie could follow orders. They didn’t need him to put out a trash fire. But Hank had been restless all night. He might as well go check everything out himself rather than lie in bed worrying about it. With a trash fire, there was always the chance it could spark a grass fire.

Glancing at his watch, he realized in an hour he would have been up anyway. He liked to get up and be at work before dawn when he was at the ranch. He’d work a few hours before coming in for breakfast with his mother and Saralynn. His sisters usually slept late, and his old aunts had their morning tea and bakery scones in their quarters.

As he took the side stairs outside his room, he hoped he made it back for breakfast. Tuesdays, his mother left early to visit the gallery in Wichita Falls that handled her pots, but every other morning, the three of them laughed and talked over pancakes and eggs before they started their day. Sometimes he thought his family circled around him in endless rings, but at the core were Saralynn and his mother.

When Hank pulled up to the north roadside park, he could see smoke rising gray against the night sky. The huge Dumpster was still popping with the heat, but the fire inside had been put out.

His men had sprayed the dried grass around the site to ensure that no spark would start something far worse than a Dumpster fire.

“What do you think happened?” Willie asked.

“Some traveler tossing his trash along with an ashtray, maybe,” Hank guessed. Dumpster fires weren’t all that unusual. An odd smell drifted with the smoke, making Hank wonder if some animal had been trapped in the Dumpster. Or maybe roadkill had been tossed in.

He noticed one of the sheriff’s cars pull up beside the highway patrolman’s vehicle, but Hank didn’t move out of the dark. If Alex was here, she was on duty and probably didn’t want to talk to him. For the second Saturday in a row he hadn’t gotten a call from the bar. She’d stayed out of trouble. Part of him was proud of her, and part wondered if she was staying away from him.

Flashlight beams floated around an old station wagon parked near one of the picnic tables. The crack of a police radio crackled across the cold air.

Brad Rister approached Hank. “Should we try to determine the cause, or just wait and come back in a few hours when it’s light? Both lids were down when we got here, so the fire had pretty much choked itself out. All we got was smoke; no flame when we popped the latch.”

“Go on back and try to get a few more hours of sleep.” Hank turned his collar up. “I’ll stick around for a while.”

Brad motioned for Willie and Andy to pack up.

Hank noticed the beam of a light moving toward him. He didn’t move as Alex’s tall, lean shadow materialized from behind the light.

“Fire out?” she asked.

“It’s out.”

“Mind if we have a look inside?”

“The Dumpster’s probably still hot and smoking, but knock yourself out.” He followed her and two highway patrolmen. “Any reason this can’t wait until dawn?”

Alex didn’t answer, but the patrolman said, “We found drugs in the station wagon. There is a possibility that the driver climbed out of his car for some reason and decided to light up in the Dumpster.”

Hank frowned. “You think he caught himself on fire?”

“I’ve seen it before. In the car, out where we could see him if we passed by, wouldn’t seem near as safe as inside the Dumpster. Only problem was he might have closed the lid.”

Hank could fill in the blanks from there. A few years ago, the parks department had put on latches to keep animals out of the trash. A five-year-old could open the lid from the outside, but there was no way to open it from the inside. A few park workers had complained about almost having a heart attack when they opened the lid and an angry raccoon shot out.

Hank stood behind Alex as she leaned over and shone her flashlight in. One of the patrolmen did the same.

Hank didn’t have to look. He had a feeling they’d find something dead inside.

Alex stepped back and, in the dark, no one else noticed Hank steady her.

“We’ll need a crime unit,” she said, fighting to keep her voice calm. “He’s burned, but the cause of death may be asphyxiation.”

“Or drugs,” Hank added. “Does it really matter? He’s dead.”

No one heard him. They began talking about what had to be done. Hank walked back to his truck just as the sky started to lighten. With the door open, he sat in his Dodge and watched the show. Usually, he loved sunrise on the prairie, but the smoky haze in the air and the stench took the joy out of it.

He barely noticed most of the cars leaving. The sky was rose-colored when he heard someone come around the side to the open door of his truck.

“You can go,” Alex said, then added, “Thank your team for coming out. Thank you for coming.”

He didn’t move or look at her. “I wasn’t asleep.” He almost added that he’d been thinking of her, or, more accurately, thinking of her in bed beside him.

She came closer. “I’m staying until the crime boys get here. There’s no reason for you to have to stay.”

He turned his head and found her only a foot away. The dawn reflected in her eyes. She stared; an ocean of words that needed to be said flowed between them, but neither had any idea how to begin. The memory of the way she’d felt in the restaurant with her leg pressed against his filled his tired mind, blocking out all else.

“You need something, Hank?” She raised one eyebrow slightly.

“Yeah, come closer.” He was just tired enough not to be able to act like he didn’t want her anymore.

She took a step closer, almost touching him, her eyes daring him.

Hank slowly lifted his hand and slid his finger around the back of her neck. He didn’t tug her forward, but leaned out of the truck and kissed her lightly on the mouth.

When she stiffened, he moved away. “You can shoot me out here if you want to, Alexandra, but I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.” He had no idea what she’d do or say. He didn’t care.

She braced her hands on either side of the open door frame and leaned in, kissing him full on the mouth hard.

His arm circled around her and tugged her in beside him as her mouth opened and the kiss deepened.

She broke the kiss, but she couldn’t pull away. Her back was pressed against the steering wheel, and her front was pressed against him. “This doesn’t mean anything,” she whispered, as if to herself, not him. “Don’t think we’re even friends.”

“Fine with me,” he answered as his arm tightened, pulling her hard against him and covering her mouth once more.

He wanted to feel her heart pounding as she kissed him back, but all he felt was her bulletproof vest. The knowledge of where they were and who they were must have registered with her a second after it did with Hank.