Borderland (31 page)

That was
a real laugh. You didn't send women out to do the hunting. They could handle
the syringe maybe, but the blade? No way.

Coral
and her damn high-minded ideas. She would hint around to the other gals but
never give. She liked to keep the golden key of knowledge to herself, and if
there was one thing that pissed women off in immense proportions it was that
sister of a cockteaser, the infuriating talk-teaser.

Naturally,
Ed's wife took out her own frustrations on him. Why was he making everyone so
angry with him? Do what they want, Ed, whatever it is. We've known these people
all our lives. We need them. I need them.

Well,
Bossy, old Ed says you don't. Who gives a damn if I cut any hair today? I
don't. Let it grow down around their hairy butts for all I care. And let 'em
slit each other's throats while Jinx is gone. I could give a whistling shit.
Let Vic Kimmler clean up the blood. I never liked being the law anyway.

Still .
. . Yeah, he did feel kinda sorry for Vic. The sorry dummy still didn't know
what he was getting himself into. Funny, but he was the only stupid Kimmler to
have come down the line. All the Kimmler’s before him had been smart as whips.
That's why they'd always been in charge. The very first Kimmler, one of the
last boys to be adopted by Wilbur and Adelaide, was said to have been quite the
little Einstein. A far cry from the sappy Vic, Ed decided.

Once Doc
changed the prescription a few more times Jinx would have young Vic eating out
of his hand—if he didn't already. Ed had seen the way Jinx and the others were
buddying up to the newcomer. Even the ones who had sent their own sons away
were happy to have the new, younger blood, all but Gil Schwarz, who was still
angry about the mare business. He couldn't believe Vic would take the word of a
woman over his own. It wasn't right. Men just didn't do that.

Not
Denke men, anyway, Ed thought. And Schwarz was still frothing at the mouth over
what that Wulf guy had done with his pistol. Gil claimed he was going to follow
him when he left town and run that convertible off the highway. Then he
intended to rip Wulf's heart out and eat it before his very eyes as he died.

That's
what he said, anyway. Gil was colorful sometimes. Most crazy people were.
Trouble was Gil would do just that if Jinx didn't chain him to a chair the day
Wulf left town.

Personally,
Ed thought Wulf's aim should've been lower. He knew he'd wake up and breathe
easier tomorrow if Schwarz was kissing dirt. Any day now, Jinx would turn the
tide of Denke opinion against old Ed Kisner's continuing existence. Ed wasn't
going to be able to coast along like he previously imagined. He guessed he made
his own opinions known and openly disagreed with Jinx Lahr once too often in
the last few weeks. Someday soon he might find his own car being forced off the
road by a grinning Gil Schwarz. And in view of his reluctance to find his flesh
between those fierce white teeth, he knew he had to do something about the
situation.

He left
the mirror and walked to the window of the shop. The streets were empty. Too
hot for visiting, sitting on porches or taking summer's day walks. There was a
lone car in front of Jinx's diner, Darwin's big Lincoln. Sunlight glared off
the chrome.

Money,
Ed thought. If I'm going to leave here, I need money, money to buy Len some
land far away from here. Have to get him out of Denke, and probably have to
tell him the truth to do it, the whole truth. But he'll go. He's got a good
head on his shoulders. He'll be sickened by the things his father has
done—maybe even hate me—but I have to do it. Can't let Jinx have him. I won't.
Things aren't going to change all by themselves. Someone has to start the ball
rolling and it might as well be me. I'll be remembered for that if nothing
else.

But
where was he going to get the money he needed? To leave he would need a lot,
enough to see himself and his son safely away. Bossy could stay. She needed
these people, remember?

He clenched
his pale fists suddenly. If he was as smart as he liked to think he was he'd
have been saving a diamond ring here and a gold watch there instead of giving
everything to Jinx. He should have—

His gaze
flitted back to the diner. Jinx...

Jinx had
himself a safe in that back room. Among the council members it was known as the
First Bank of Denke. There was money in that safe. The town’s money.

Ed
wondered how much was inside. Jinx lied to them all the time about how much
they had. Ed knew he did, because Ed wrote down a few figures himself from time
to time and most of those times his figures didn't agree with Jinx's figures.
He knew Jinx liked to think he was the only one any good at mathematics, but Ed
had learned a few things while Len was in school. He learned everything he
missed in his own schooling, including fractions.

His eyes
began to water as he stared at the diner. The glass. The brick. The wood. The
doors, naturally, would be locked. Jinx was a suspicious bastard.

But Jinx
was gone. Gone to get more money.

Ed
smiled to himself and blew out a few stray clipped nose hairs as he breathed.
Dare he? Dare he do what he was contemplating? This was his home, after all. He
had known these people all his life. Every man, woman and child, every shop, every
house, every... His brows drew together as a small, midnight blue foreign job
cruised slowly down the empty street.

Nope. He
didn't know that car.

He
walked to the door and poked his head out to watch the car's progress. It sped
up as it left the town proper. Just an idle gawker? Or was the man behind the
wheel kin to the two in the chewed up Buick? The ones who were after young
Calvin Callahan.

Poor
Myra, Ed thought. Then he looked back to the diner again and the smile returned
to his face. Poor Jinx. Yessir. A shame he was going to miss that dance in the
church hall tomorrow night. Everyone in town would be there.

Everyone
but Ed.

CHAPTER 27

Christa
knew Myra wanted to talk to her and she wished the woman would just get it over
with instead of looking at her in such a funny way. Christa was so nervous she
couldn't eat her breakfast. And Myra didn't look good. There were dark places
under her blue eyes and her face always looked tired lately. Tired and white
and worried.

Myra was
probably sick. Sick and going to die. That's what she wanted to talk to Christa
about, just like Christa's mother had done. Sometime today Myra was going to
sit her down and explain that soon she would be going away. Forever.

Moisture
filled Christa's eyes as she stared down at her cereal. She looked up only when
Andy lifted her bowl to her mouth and began to slurp down her milk.

"Andy,
don't do that. Daddy says only slobs do that."

A loud
belch was Andy's reply.

Cal and Uncle
Nolan laughed. Christa wiped her eyes and pushed her own cereal bowl aside.

Myra
watched her. "You haven't eaten very much, honey. Not hungry this
morning?"

Christa
shook her head. "Not really." She glanced around at the other faces before
looking back to Myra. Her eyes welled up again. "Myra, are you sick?"

Andy
dropped her bowl to the table with a loud clatter. When she saw Christa's eyes,
her own began to fill. Cal stared suddenly at his mother, his expression
worried.

"No,"
Myra said quickly. Her gaze went to each of them in swift succession. "I'm
not sick. What gave you that idea?"

"You
look sick," Christa said on a half-sob. "You look like my mom
did."

Andy
looked from Christa to Myra and then back to Christa again before echoing her
sister's sob. Nolan dropped his spoon and reached over to lift Andy from her
chair. "Hush," he said as he put her on his lap. "Myra's not
sick she's just having trouble sleeping." He looked at Christa. "You
have nightmares sometimes, don't you?"

Christa
nodded.

"And
they keep you awake sometimes, don't they?" She nodded again.

"Well,
kids don't corner the market on scary dreams," he told her. "Adults
have nightmares, too, and lots of times we lose sleep because of them. Right,
Myra?"

Myra was
still looking at Christa. "That's right, honey. I'm not sick."

Cal's
release of breath was loud. "Why don't you take the fan from now on, Mom?
I don't need it."

Myra
smiled at him. "Thanks, Cal. You keep it." She darted another furtive
glance at Christa. "I don't think it would help."

"Come
on now." Nolan slid Andy off his lap and pointed her toward the pantry.
"I'll bet those kittens are wondering where their morning milk is. Cal,
did you milk the goat yet?"

"I'll
do it now." Cal left his chair and followed Andy to the door. "Are
you coming?" he asked Christa over his shoulder.

"Not
right now." She wiped her eyes again and stood up. "I have to go to
the bathroom."

While
there she wiped at her eyes and blew her nose. She threw the wadded tissues at
the wastebasket and missed. She resisted the temptation to leave it there—like
Andy always did—and bent over to pick it up. Underneath the tissue, right
beside the base of the toilet, was a little white pill. She picked that up,
too. This was dangerous. Andy could get this and swallow it. She would have to
give it to Myra to put away.

She was
glad Myra wasn't sick. She liked Myra a lot. She reminded Christa of the last
teacher she'd had, the pretty Mrs. Shellhammer.

Christa
slipped the pill into her shorts pocket and raised herself on the tip of her
toes to look in the mirror. Her dark hair and brown eyes seemed plain compared
to the golden blond looks of Myra and Cal. And Cal was so smart. He was so
smart he seemed like a grownup sometimes—mostly when he treated her like a baby.

With a
long sigh she left the bathroom to return to the dining room. She stopped in
the doorway. Uncle Nolan was bent over Myra's chair and he had his arms around
her from behind. Myra's head was leaning back against him. Christa edged closer
to hear what he was saying.

".
. .in my room. Both of us might get some sleep for a change. Did you know I
played with your nipples after you finally drifted off last night?"

Myra
smiled. "Liar."

"Okay,
I just thought about it. Seriously though, you really do look worn down."

"I
know," Myra said. "But I don't think sleeping with you is the
cure."

"You
never know till you try," Nolan said with a low laugh. "Don't tell me
you're afraid of the big bad Wulf?"

"Hardly,"
Myra answered. "I've heard he's all blow and no go."

Christa
stepped forward. "Only with little pigs."

Myra's
head jerked up and Uncle Nolan laughed. He released Myra and turned to sweep
Christa off the floor. After tickling her ribs and making her laugh he lowered
her back down again. "The only girls who aren't afraid of me are nine
years old and under. Christa, tell her I'm harmless."

Christa
pulled at her bunched-up shorts. "He's just a heartbreaker, Myra. Daddy
said so. He doesn't really hurt girls he just loves them and leaves them."

Myra
burst out laughing. Nolan's smile turned into a dark scowl. "Thanks a lot,
kid. When did your dad tell you that?"

Christa
smiled at his mock anger. "He said it a lot of times. That's why I
remembered it."

"Great."
Without another word, Nolan turned and left the room. Christa stared after him,
suddenly unsure whether he had been playing mad or not.

"Never
mind," Myra said. "He'll get over it. The truth always hurts."

Christa
went to her and put a hand on her arm. "I'm really glad you're okay. I
didn't want you to be sick."

Myra
turned in her chair to embrace her. "I'm just fine. I promise."

"Good."
Christa hugged her hard. Then she leaned back. "Maybe you should sleep
with Uncle Nolan—if it would help you rest, I mean."

Myra
looked away and cleared her throat. "I don't think it would help, Christa.
Probably just the opposite."

"Are
you really afraid of him?" Christa asked.

"Not
in the way you mean, no."

"But
you are in another way?"

Myra
tried to smile. "Let's not talk about Uncle Nolan any more, all
right?"

"Are
you afraid he'll break your heart?" Christa pressed.

"Something
like that," Myra answered. "Now, that's the end of that conversation.
Would you like to help me clear the breakfast dishes from the table?"

"Maybe
you should let me do it," Christa said. "If you want, you can go
upstairs and try to go to sleep. I won't let anybody wake you up."

Myra's
eyes suddenly clouded. Her voice dropped to a low murmur. "Not even
her?"

"Who?"
Christa asked. The look on Myra's face was strange. It made Christa
uncomfortable.