Everyone Deserves a Second Chance (7 page)

"Oh well, we can put
them back in again if they do." The little girl turned to
Garrett. "Right Garrett?"

The little boy looked up
at Brenda and smiled. His unruly hair and dark eyes reminded her
so much of Marcus it took her a second to return the smile, and
it was only half hearted at most. However, the little boy had
already turned his attention back to Lauren and hadn't noticed.

Brenda threaded a ribbon
through the gelding's mane and tied it with a quick jerk. She
tried to fight the anger rising within her using the relaxation
techniques she taught her clients. To her disappointment it
didn't work. One ribbon after another she gave an angry jerk to
tie them until she was out of the shiny material and Tonka was
eying her with annoyance.

"Sorry boy."
She patted the horse's neck and ran her hand along the soft fur
of his coat.

"All done momma!
Look how pretty he is Garrett. We're going to look great
tomorrow."

"He does look neat."
Garrett giggled. "But I wouldn't want to ride a horse that
has pink bows in its hair."

Lauren gave him a
childish shove, almost knocking him to the ground. "Hey!
That's because you're a boy. Boy's aren't supposed to like pretty
things."

Garrett stuck his tongue
out at her and ran screaming and laughing from the barn when
Lauren took off after him. Brenda and the gelding exchanged a
glance before she pulled his blanket on and brought him to his
stall.

"Lauren! Come give
Tonka some hay before we go."

"Aw, do we have to
go?" Lauren and Garrett reappeared, both short of breath and
still giggling.

"Yes we do. You have
to get up early tomorrow for the parade and you still have to
clean your room. Remember what I said, if you don't clean it you
don't go."

"Ugh!" Lauren
stamped her foot.

"Don't get mad at
me. Feed Tonka so we can go, check his water also."

When Brenda saw to it
that Lauren had fed and watered Tonka to her satisfaction she
watched her daughter say a teary good bye to Garrett before she
could get her into their car and started for home.

"I didn't get a
chance to say good bye to Uncle Marcus." Lauren complained
as they pulled away from the dirt drive and headed for home.

"He had other things
to do. You'll see him first thing tomorrow anyways."

"What time will we see granny and gramps tomorrow? I can't
wait till they see me on Tonka. I'm a lot better at riding this
year then I was last year. They'll be super impressed."

"I'm sure they will.
They said they'd be there as soon as the parade started. They're
going to be by the big pavilion near the lake. We'll have lunch
there and then you're going to spend the weekend at their house."

"Will Jenny be
there? She was so mean to me last time…"

Brenda patted her
daughter on the arm. "No, Jenny won't be there. She was only
mean to you because you took her doll. That wasn't very nice of
you."

"Well she's stupid
anyways. I hate her the most of all my cousins."

"Lauren!"

"Well I do."
She crossed her arms and peered out the window the rest of the
drive home, refusing to answer any more of Brenda's questions.

When they pulled up to
the front of their small house she hurried out of the car and
disappeared up to her room as soon as Brenda unlocked the front
door.

"Clean that room!"
Brenda called up after her. When her daughter refused to answer
her Brenda sighed and went to start dinner.

Her mind wandered to
Marcus as she rinsed and chopped carrots for stew. Since
Lindsey's arrival she'd been extremely worried for him. Although
he was a client no longer, she remembered what he'd gone through
after her disappearance.

Even though her office was at the far end of town, she heard the
first gunshots along with everyone else. The two other people in
her clinic exchanged a look between each other before the gun
went off again.

"Stay away from the
windows!" Brenda called to them as she hurried to the door
of the building and peeked out at the street. As the owner of the
clinic she sure as hell wasn't going to let anything happen to
the two people who worked for her.

She saw him far down the
street. The horse lay on the ground at his feet, kicking and
screaming in pain. When the animal tried desperately to rise he
kicked it hard in the head, bringing it back down to its side.
Blood and dirt covered its once white coat. Slowly he reloaded
the double barrel shot gun as the horse continued to struggle
before him.

When the first police
officer approached him he shouted something she couldn't make
out. The officer said something back as he kept his gun pointed
at his chest.

In a sudden motion the
horse gained its feet. Brenda turned her head away just as he
pulled the trigger at the horse's head. It didn't move again. Her
heart went out for the animal that lay in a spreading pool of
blood.

"Put the gun down
Marcus! Put it down now!" The police officer demanded.

Brenda watched in horror
as he turned the shotgun on himself. Her hands came up to cover
her eyes as she awaited the loud retort to go off when he pulled
the trigger.

She was too far away to
hear the click of the empty barrel. The police officer, now
joined by a second and third man, forced him down to the ground
and put him in handcuffs. The man's sobbing filled the air.

"Brenda? Is
everything okay out there?"

"Yes Brenda. Its
safe for you two to come out now." Brenda turned to the
young secretary and gave her a reassuring smile.

"What happened?"

"A man killed a
horse in the middle of the street." Brenda said half
astonished at her own words. Back in Chicago if she'd said the
same thing to one of her co-workers they would have checked her
into a mental institution. Here in Nevada things were much, much
different.

She was relieved however when Brenda, a woman who'd been born and
raised in this town, said "Weird," before going back to
work.

That afternoon she'd been
getting ready to go home, closing up the clinic, when the officer
approached her.

"Hello Ms. Clark, my
name's Tim Gentner. I'm an police officer over at the station."
He motioned down the street. "I know you're new in town and
are still trying to get settled in, but we, the guys at the
station that is, have someone we'd like you to talk to if you
have some free time."

"Actually I was just
leaving. Tomorrow maybe?"

"Of course, I'm
sorry to have disturbed you. Tomorrow won't work, so we'll just
forget the whole idea." He nodded and started away.

"Officer?"

"Call me Mark."

"Mark," she
smiled at him. He wasn't an unhandsome man. A little short for
her tastes and going bald at his temple, but he had a pleasant
face and nice manners. "Is it the man who shot the horse?"

Tim winced. "Awfully
sorry you had to see that. We cleaned everything up as soon as we
could…" He paused. "We can't keep him for more
then tonight. See, its not illegal for a man to put down his own
horse, how he chooses to do it is his business. We could charge
him with breaking the peace, or endangering other citizens but
Marcus is a good man. He just hasn't been himself since, well,
I've said too much as it is. Just sorry you can't see him
tonight."

"I have to pick up
my daughter from day care. If you don't mind me bringing her I
guess I could come."

"Mind? Why would I
mind? Of course you can bring her. Me or one of the other boys
will be waiting for you." He nodded, gave her a brief smile,
and continued on back down the street.

A man at the station
greeted her and waved her towards the back of the building when
she arrived later that night. She watched Tim stand up from
behind a desk and come forwards as soon as he noticed her.

"What a cutie!"
He said as the little girl watched him with wide green eyes.

"Thank you."

"Yes, right this
way." He led Brenda to the back of the jail where three
cells stood in a row, the first two empty. At the farthest cell a
folding chair had been set, well away from harms way should he
approach the bars. Brenda took a seat and arranged Lauren in her
lap before she glanced at the man inside.

His clothes were covered
in dried blood, and dirt matted his hair. He sat in the farthest
corner of the cell with his knees drawn up to his chest and his
head resting atop them. From the look of his boots, well worn
with age, he was someone used to a hard day's work.

When Brenda heard Tim
leave the room she cleared her throat. "Hello. My name's
Brenda Clark." She watched him for a reaction and wasn't
surprised when she didn't get one.

"I saw you out there
today. I thought you might want to talk about it." Brenda
shifted Lauren in her arms as she started to fuss. When she
looked back up he was looking at her.

His dark eyes were
bloodshot and red rimmed. Dried blood and tears streaked his
face. The pain she saw in his expression made her heart swell
with compassion for this young man who sat huddled before her.

"What's her name?"
He asked, nodding towards her daughter who was falling asleep on
her shoulder.

"Lauren."

He nodded but said
nothing more as he watched the two of them.

"And you are?"
She asked him, although she was already knew his first name.

"Marcuse Whitman.
Most people round here call me Marcus."

"Your friends are
worried for you Mr. Whitman. I call them friends because they
asked me to come talk to you." He watched her for a second
more before he put his forehead back on his knees. His sobs tore
at her heart.

"Sometimes it helps
to talk about things that are bothering you." Brenda
continued, her voice thick with emotion. When he didn't answer
but continued to sob she went on.

"I lost my husband
last year. He worked almost two hours away. It was a long drive,
but we couldn't afford the place we were in otherwise. He had
long hours on top of the long commute. He fell asleep at the
wheel one night. It was a head on collision with the truck. Even
now I pray he didn't feel anything." Brenda wiped tears from
her eyes. Her voice shook as she continued.

"When he died I
thought I would die with him. That one event altered my entire
future. But you see I had my daughter to think of. I had myself
to think of. I had to go on with my life. Talking about it helped
me cope with what happened, it helped me realize that there's a
purpose to everything that happens in our lives.

"And here I am
talking to you. I only moved in last week. My parents moved down
here a few years back and they always have great things to say
about this place. I figured it would be better for me if I moved
closer to my family. What about you? How long have you lived
here?"

Although he didn't
respond he'd stopped crying and was watching her again. Brenda
glanced at her watch and then back up at him. It was getting late
and she hated driving at night.

"If you don't want to talk I might as well be going. If you
change your mind you'll find me at the new clinic up the street."
She started to rise and Lauren protested as Brenda's movements
woke her. He never said a word as she left him there, to be alone
again in his cell.

Tim met her as she came
back into the main part of the police station. "Any luck?"
he questioned as he walked her out to her car.

"I did what I could.
The rest is up to him."

"Thank you Ms.
Clark. We all appreciate it. He's so young, and such a great guy.
We'd hate to see anything happen to him."

"How old is he?"

"He'll be twenty one
in September."

"Really young…"
Brenda muttered as she thought of the pain she'd seen in his
eyes.

"Well, thanks
again."

"Of course."

Brenda was even more
surprised to see him the very next morning sitting on the steps
up to the clinic as she came to open it for the day.

"I, uh. I thought we
could talk." He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of
his jeans. In clean clothes he cut quite a figure with his
tousled hair, lean muscular frame, and expressive dark eyes. He
looked down at the ground, scuffed the dirt with a boot and then
looked back up at her.

Brenda smiled at him.
"Come on in."

Marcus cursed under his breath as she looked up at him. She was
on the couch again, a blanket draped around her shoulders. He
turned his face away from her as he pulled off his dirty boots
and let them hit the clean kitchen floor. Like the last time he
spied a plate of food in the microwave.

"Why don't you go to
bed Lindsey? Don't bother waiting up for me. I told you that last
time." Marcus jerked open the refrigerator looking for a
beer. Instead he found milk, juice, and bottled water. Things a
family would keep in the refrigerator. He swore out loud and
leaned against the counter.

"What do you want
from me Lindsey?" He whispered as he felt her hand touch his
back. Her other hand found its way up the front of his shirt.

"Garrett is a sound
sleeper." She whispered into the back of his neck as she
pulled the cowboy hat off his head and let it drop to the kitchen
floor. She wound her fingers though his tousled hair. With her
teeth she caught his earlobe and tugged. The hand up the front of
his shirt found one of his nipples and squeezed before doing the
same to the other one.

Marcus shut his eyes and
tried to steady his breathing. He could feel her unbuttoning the
front of his jeans, and the firmness of her breasts pressing
against his back. He spun and wrapped his hands around her waist
pulling her closer. When their mouths met her tongue pushed his
lips open and explored.

"Not down here."
She said with as gasp, as they broke apart. She took hold of his
hand and dragged him up to the third floor. "I always loved
this room." She said with smile as he jerked her shirt up
and trailed kisses from her navel to bra.