An Ex to Grind in Deadwood (Deadwood Humorous Mystery Book 5) Paperback – September 4, 2014 (22 page)

“That he’s stuck up here and can’t reach Cooper.” She called Reid yet another not so nice name under her breath.

“Wasn’t there someone else he could call?” Someone who wasn’t using his picture for target practice?

“No. I’m the only other one who knows where to find him up here, especially at night.” She pointed at a gravel road spurring off to the left up ahead. “Take that one.”

I was so turned around at this point that I understood why only she could find him. “Did he say what he was doing way out here?”

“No, but I suspect it involves a bottle of whiskey.”

Reid came up here to drink? Alone? If so, Mona might be right about him being broken. Reid didn’t seem like the kind to go off on binges like this. I knew he was pining over Aunt Zoe, but this was Shakespearean teenager tragedy stuff, not something I’d expect of Deadwood’s well-respected fire captain.

“I don’t get it,” I thought aloud, wondering why Reid was so messed up about Aunt Zoe all of a sudden. What had changed?

“It’s our spot,” she explained.

“Your spot?” I glanced over at her, seeing lines creasing her forehead in the dashboard lights.

“Where we used to go to …” she flapped her hand in front of her, “you know, have a little fun out under the stars.”

“Oh.” That spot. I focused on the pitted road, keeping my mind from going
there
with Reid and my aunt. “How much further is it?”

“Another half mile or so.”

We bounced along in silence for a couple ticks of the odometer. “You think he’s there alone?” I asked, trying to prepare mentally for the shit storm that would hit when we reached this spot of theirs.

“For his sake, I hope so.”

Me, too. I also hoped for Reid’s sake her shotgun wasn’t tucked behind the seat.

She pointed out the windshield. “You can see his pickup up ahead on the right.”

The headlights reflected off the chrome back bumper of his red dually truck. I pulled in next to it and cut the engine, leaving the headlights on.

“Where is he?”

“Just through the trees. You can see the path.”

It was more of a deer trail, actually.

She grabbed a flashlight from the glove box, opened the door, and stepped down. “You coming?”

I hesitated. “You sure you want me to?”

“If he’s drinking, I’m going to need your help. He’s not a little guy.”

No, he sure wasn’t, but I’d much rather have stayed alone in the dark pickup in a spooky forest than witness the hellfire Aunt Zoe was about to blast at Reid.

Pocketing the keys, I shut off the lights and followed her into the cool evening air. A fresh, pine-scented breeze blew through the needles overhead. Their whispers grew louder while twigs crunched under our feet. Up ahead, I caught glimpses of firelight through the trees.

When we stepped into the clearing I paused, realizing two things at once.

First, Reid probably wasn’t drunk—not yet, anyway. The bottle of wine sitting on a nearby tree stump—along with two glasses—hadn’t been opened yet, neither had the picnic basket on the ground on the other side of the fire.

Second, his phone message had been intended as a party invitation for Aunt Zoe alone, not the two of us.

“Oh, shit,” I heard Aunt Zoe say under her breath from where she’d stopped in front of me.

A rustling sound in a young stand of straggly trees to our left turned out to be Reid crashing through it with an armload of branches and bark. Feeling like a monster truck-sized third wheel, my gut sank even deeper. I’d have much preferred Bigfoot. We could have run off together to go scare campers carrying cheap video cameras and left Reid and Aunt Zoe alone to reminisce about old times at their favorite spot.

“Hi, Zo,” he said, shielding his eyes.

Aunt Zoe lowered the flashlight.

To Reid’s credit, his smile for Aunt Zoe only slipped for a moment when he saw me there next to her. “You brought Sparky along.”

“I thought I was going to need her help.” Aunt Zoe jammed her hands on her hips. “But you’re not drunk.”

“No,” he dropped the kindling next to the fire, taking his gloves off and shoving them in his back pocket. “I’m done with the heavy drinking. It doesn’t work.”

What did that mean? Alcohol wasn’t getting him drunk anymore or it wasn’t making him forget a certain hard-headed aunt of mine?

“You acted drunk on the phone,” she accused.

He shrugged. “I was pretending. You won’t take my calls, so I had to figure out some way to get you to talk to me.”

“So you lied and played on my sympathy?”

“I didn’t outright lie about anything. You just assumed the worst about me.” His gaze moved to me. “Did you really bring Sparky to help?”

“Why else would I drag her away from her children on a weeknight?”

“Because you were afraid to be alone with me.”

Aunt Zoe’s chin shot up. “You don’t scare me, Reid Martin.”

“You say that,” he pulled a wine opener out of the pocket of his jean jacket and grabbed the bottle from the stump. “But we both know you still have feelings for me.”

There was a steely confidence in Reid’s tone that might have chafed my hide if I had been in my aunt’s shoes. I took a step backward, wanting to inch my way into the trees where I could take cover.

“The only feelings I have these days when it comes to you are heartburn and indigestion.” Without taking her eyes off Reid, she said, “Violet, stay put.”

Her tight tone took me back to my childhood. I froze. “Yes, Aunt Zoe,” I responded, just like the old days.

Reid chuckled, low and smooth. He pulled the cork and grabbed a glass, filling it half full with red wine. “I don’t believe you. There’s still fire in your eyes.”

Aunt Zoe grabbed my forearm and stalked over to Reid, dragging me along with her as if she figured I’d make a run for it given the chance. She was right.

“Fire in my eyes?” She pointed at her face. “This isn’t the heat that used to burn for you. That cooled long ago. This is fury, plain and simple.”

Reid handed me the glass of wine. I took it without thinking.

“That’s what I’m talking about.” He picked up the other glass and poured wine into it. “If you didn’t care anymore, you wouldn’t be threatening to fill me with holes every time I came near.”

“Damn it,” she muttered. “I should’ve brought my shotgun.”

I looked down at the glass in my hand. Why was I holding wine? This wasn’t my party. I gave it to Aunt Zoe, who took it probably for the same reason I had—because it was handed to her. Or maybe she planned on throwing it in Reid’s face.

I glanced toward the deer trail. Maybe I should high tail it back to the pickup and deal with the ass chewing she’d give me later for abandoning her.

“See, you still care,” Reid said, handing me the other glass of wine, which I took again, feeling like I was guest-starring in a Three Stooges comedy. “I had to reach the bottom of several bottles of whiskey to figure that out, but I came around. Now you need to come around, too.”

I fidgeted, wishing a sinkhole would open under my feet.

“I’m not coming around to anything when it comes to you.” She thrust the glass of wine back to him, sloshing it over the side onto her hand, which she wiped off on her jeans. “You had your chance years ago and passed it up. There is no second time around for us.”

Not sure what to do or where to look, I stared into the bottom of the glass as I took a sip of the dark liquid. The wine had a deep tone with a hint of fruity sweetness. “What kind of wine is this?” I blurted out.

“Zo’s favorite,” Reid said. “It’s a Gamay.”

“That’s a Gamay?” she asked, still huffing.

Reid gave her a crooked smile. “It’s what we always drank up here.”

She grabbed the bottle and tipped it, gulping down a good-sized swallow. “This doesn’t mean I’m giving in to you,” she said, taking another smaller drink. “It’s just a shame to waste perfectly good wine on a starry night.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Reid said, holding out his glass in a mock
cheers
and then downing some wine. “Sweet on the tongue. Reminds me of you.” He winked at Aunt Zoe.

I looked up at the sky, searching for a UFO to flag down. Anal probing would be only slightly less comfortable than standing right here right now.

“This isn’t happening, Reid,” Aunt Zoe said, setting the bottle on the stump. “We’re leaving now.”

Toot toot! That was my cue. I handed the glass back to Reid.

“Don’t you want to see what’s in the basket?” he asked, setting both glasses down on the stump.

Well, I sure did now, but I didn’t know if Aunt Zoe was going to fall for his parlor trick.

“Unless it’s a killer Chihuahua that I can sic on you,” she said, “I’m not interested.”

Reid crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes narrowing as he stared at her. “You never were good at bluffing.”

“We’re leaving now,” Aunt Zoe said through stiff lips, but her feet stayed planted.

“No, you’re staying and opening the basket,” he told her.

“How about I go warm up the pickup,” I offered, taking a step toward the trees.

“Don’t even think about it, Violet Lynn.”

“Got it.” I focused on the fire and began whistling quietly to myself.

“What’s in the basket, Reid?” Aunt Zoe asked.

“Come and see.” He walked over to the basket and opened one side of the lid.

Aunt Zoe tapped her foot a few times and then growled. “You’re such a pain in the ass.” She joined him.

The firelight bathed them in an orange glow, the darkness behind them black velvet sprinkled with starry diamonds. I took a sip from the closest wine glass, not caring which had been mine, as I waited to see what was in the basket.

“What is it?” Aunt Zoe squatted down, reaching inside. She pulled out a small box.

A jewelry box? I gasped, which earned a wrinkled brow from both of them.

“Sorry,” I said, staring into the bottom of my glass again.

“No, Reid,” I heard Aunt Zoe say. I peeked up to see her holding the box out to Reid.

“You’re jumping to conclusions, Zo. Open it.”

She wiggled off the lid, frowning down at whatever was inside.

I took a step closer. What was it? Diamonds? Rubies? Sapphires? What?

“You’re kidding,” she said and chuckled. “I can’t believe you still have this.”

What was in the box? I opened my mouth to ask but then poured more wine in it instead of catching another glare.

“You always were such a sentimental sucker,” she said.

“Hey, now,” Reid said. “Don’t be making fun in front of Sparky.”

Aunt Zoe put the lid back on.

What was in the box, damn it?

“Zo, I need to talk to you for a moment.” He glanced my way. “Alone.”

Thank, God! “I’ll be in the truck.”

“Hold up, Violet.” Aunt Zoe stopped me before I’d made it two steps. “Reid, if you have something to say, spit it out.”

“Fine,” Reid said, not sounding like he meant it. He pointed at the box. “That’s for you to keep.”

“I can’t.”

“You can. Listen,” Reid paused, frowning over at me.

Sorry
, I mouthed, wishing I weren’t standing there eavesdropping on this private conversation. I considered zipping my coat closed over my head to escape.

He turned back to my aunt. “I want you back.”

“No.”

Ouch! She hadn’t even taken a moment to think about it.

“Shut up and let me finish,” he said, undeterred. “I want you back in my life, morning, noon, and night. I was an idiot to let you go before, and I’ve regretted it every day since you kicked me out. Please stop torturing me and let me in again.”

Holy crap!
I held my breath as I waited for Aunt Zoe’s response.

She stared down at the box in her hand, her shoulders rising and lowering several times, and then she held it out to him. “Would you hold this for a minute?”

He took the box. “What do you say?”

For the first time since he’d stepped out of the trees, he sounded uncertain. My heart clenched for him.

“I say that I owe you this.” She pulled back and punched him, landing a right jab to his left cheek.

My jaw hit the forest floor, followed by my glass of wine, which broke into pieces.

Reid took a step backwards. His boot heel caught on a root, and he stumbled back several more steps before falling out of sight into the darkness. In the silence that followed, I heard the cracking of breaking branches, a thump, and then a yelp from somewhere below.

“Oh, shit!” Aunt Zoe ran to where he’d disappeared. “Reid? Are you okay? I’m so sorry! Reid?”

I picked up my jaw and ran over, shining the flashlight down over a small outcrop in the rocks. Reid lay about seven feet below on a bed of pine needles and bent over yearlings. He blinked as I willed him to move.

Aunt Zoe latched onto my arm in a death grip. “Please be okay, Reid,” she whispered. “I wanted to hurt you back a little, not kill you.”

“Reid?” I called down, taking stock of his limbs, making sure nothing was bent in an odd way. “Is anything broken?”

He squinted in the bright light and sat up with a grunt. “Just my pride.” He stood slowly, wincing. “And maybe my left ass cheek.”

A strangled garble sound came out of Aunt Zoe’s throat.

“Can you walk?” I asked.

“Probably with a limp.”

“How about climbing?”

He bent sideways, stretching his lower back. “I think so, if you don’t mind giving me a hand at the top.”

“I could’ve killed him, Violet,” Aunt Zoe said, her voice shaking. She stalked toward the fire, her right hand clenching and unclenching. I hoped she hadn’t broken any bones. Her hands were her livelihood.

I waited for Reid, latching onto him and tugging a few seconds later.

He came up limping as he’d predicted, still holding the little box. He gingerly touched his face below his left eye. “Damn, Zo. Your punches get harder the older you get.”

“I’m sorry.” Aunt Zoe was still flexing her hand, staring blindly into the fire. “But it’s your fault.”

“You punching me was
my
fault?”

“You broke my heart, you son of a bitch. It took a long, long time to heal it, and now you lure me up here to tell me you’ve regretted what you did all of this time. When I think of the years of feeling empty inside … years, Reid …” she shook her head, lifting her gaze to his. “You’re lucky I didn’t bust that wine bottle over your thick skull.”