Gnome On The Range (6 page)

“What are the condoms for then?” I wondered.

He lifted the box. “Condoms are for sex. A relationship is when you don’t use them.”

Made sense to me in a single, commitment-phobic male sort of way. Goldie had said that I needed sex. Not a relationship. She obviously thought an orgasm or two would help. In theory, I couldn’t argue with that. An orgasm would be darn good, but in reality, unless I pulled out that fingertip vibrator, I’d have to get up enough nerve to be with a man. And with Ty, it was obviously no-strings-attached. Something to think about.

Ty brushed the knuckles of his hand holding the condom box ever so gently over my left breast. “Let me know.”

My mouth dropped open, my eyes briefly closed at the scorching, and surprising touch. It had been years since I’d had male contact like that.

Before I had time to react, Ty opened the door to leave and ran square into a man who had George the Gnome hugged against his chest. He was about five-ten, white, scraggly brown hair with an attempt at a mustache above his lip. He had a startled look of a deer about to be run over by a semi.

“What the…?” Ty said, surprised.

The man turned and bolted, Ty making chase after a moment to process. I dashed after them, once I’d gathered my wits about me. I had a slower pace, as my legs weren’t nearly as long as Ty’s and I didn’t have the same adrenaline rush as Gnome Stealer. Ty grabbed the guy’s arm but he wriggled free, stripping off his shirt in the process. He kept going as if the hounds of Hell were on his heels. The gnome slipped out from under his arm and fell onto the street, breaking into pieces. Ty skidded to a stop, breathing deeply, the man’s flannel shirt dangling in one hand, box of condoms in the other. We both watched the man take off around the corner onto Lincoln. He wasn’t coming back anytime soon. He was halfway to North Dakota.

After a moment of stunned silence we looked down at George. He was broken into four large pieces. I wasn’t sure how I would explain this to Zach. I couldn’t even explain it to myself. Hopefully, it could be put back together with the glue gun.

“What the hell?” Ty knelt down next to the pieces and picked up a small bundle that had been inside the gnome. Clear bubble wrap protected something that wasn’t gnome gizzards. It fit easily in Ty’s palm. I heard a car approach, so I quickly scooped up gnome parts and we walked together back to the house. I placed the pieces on the counter and watched as Ty unwrapped the packaging. Inside were an empty plastic bag and a glass vial with a black screw top. The kind scientists used to create secret potions. It was filled with some kind of white goo.

“What is that?” I peered closely at it. “Glue? Dish soap?” This was super weird. Why was glue inside a gnome?

Ty lifted it up to the light, turned it around. Eyed it funny. “Looks like cow sperm to me.”

That was the last thing I thought he’d say. Cow sperm? I tried not to think about how one got the sperm from the cow and into the vial. Yuck. Double yuck. “I need to wash my hands.”

Chapter Four

“Can you please explain to me how you know that’s cow sperm?” I pointed at the vial and cringed before I went to the sink and pumped and pumped soap onto my hands.

I knew a little about sperm. My eggs had met some sperm and made two babies. I worked in a store that sold products to keep sperm away from eggs. But that was it. None of this vial stuff.

“My parents run a cattle ranch.”

Right. I forgot about that one. “Then how did it get into Zach’s gnome? And why?”

Ty didn’t look any happier about this than I did. “I have no idea. I’ll call my parents to help figure this out.”

I handed him the phone, glad there was an expert for everything. As he waited for someone to pick up he said, “This isn’t some kid’s prank. I guess we just figured out it wasn’t a damn deer in the yard the other night.” He held up a finger signaling me to wait. “Hey Mom—”

I pulled the glue gun from the craft bucket, plugged it in and waited for it to heat up while Ty talked with his mom. Unnerved, I went in and checked on the boys. They were conked out, Bobby on his back with his arms flung over his head, Zach on the top bunk completely buried in blanket except for one exposed foot.

When I returned Ty was off the phone and downing the rest of his beer. “My mom can’t say for certain it comes from a cow. There’s really no way of knowing by looking at it. She said it also might be from a horse. Or, it might not be sperm at all.”

Ick. I wrinkled my nose. “Could it be from a…person?”

Ty pondered my question for a moment. “It’s possible, but there’s no real black market for it. There are sperm banks and more than enough willing guys to make donations. This baggie was wrapped in with the vial. I think dry ice was in there to keep the sperm fresh.”

Again, ick.

“If someone was selling it to make money, it would only work if the sperm was viable. My mom said it has to be kept below thirty-eight degrees to be worth anything. Frozen even to last as long as possible.”

“I’m impressed you recognized what it is. If I’d found it on my own I probably would have opened it and used it as glue for a kid project.” I was making myself nauseous. “That’s so gross.”

“I grew up on a cattle ranch, so this isn’t all that gross for me. My parents still run it with my two brothers. Cows, chickens, pigs. The works. What freaks me out is the fact that it was in a gnome and that some crazy son-of-a-bitch has come back here twice to steal it. He could come back again.”

“So you’ve had tons of experience with horny bulls?” I kidded, trying not to think about the man returning, possible danger to the boys, cow sperm. All of it.

He chuckled and scratched the back of his neck. Obviously, he didn’t know how to respond to that. I guess I wouldn’t know what to say to that if I was asked, either. Nice. I’d done it again. Nerves made me say stupid things.

“Bulls, no.” He lifted a brow and said with a leer, “Horny, definitely.”

I rolled my eyes. “Now what?” I asked, changing the subject.

“I suggest we look in the other gnome, see what’s inside that one. Then we throw out whatever we find and forget about it,” he said as he tossed the bubble wrap into the trash.

My roiling stomach gave way to anger. How dare someone steal from my kids! The man had taken the gnome right off my front stoop and the other night traipsed through the back yard. And Ty wanted to forget about it? “Forget about it? I’m going back to the garage sale where we bought the gnomes.”

“No way. It might be dangerous.”

“A dangerous garage sale?”

A muscle in his neck grew taut as he most likely grinded his teeth. “You have no idea why that vial was in the gnome or what kind of people we’re dealing with here. This guy,” he pointed his thumb toward the front yard, “can’t be a big player in this. He’s pretty stupid to try and steal back his vial while it’s still light. He could have waited two hours when it was dark and you were asleep. He’s either desperate or an idiot.”

I stood facing him, arms folded over my chest. “That’s why I need to go back there. To find out why and who and what. I definitely want to know what.”

“Someone wanted this stuff enough to snoop around your backyard at night. He even came right up to your kitchen door. Which was unlocked!”

“That’s because I let you in!” I poked my finger at his chest with each word. He might be stubborn, but I could do stubborn really well. I could be more stubborn than a pack mule in the summer.

He held my hand over his heart. I felt it thump-thumping, its cadence strong and reassuring. “Why do you want to look into this? Let it go. It could be dangerous.”

I shook my head, pulled my hand free. “I don’t want the boys to get hurt.” Duh. “That crazy man could come back. So, I need to know what’s going on, to know that lunatic isn’t going to show up again on my doorstep. The next time he does, the kids might be awake. Or out front playing.”

Ty went to my fridge and helped himself to another beer. He downed half of it before he spoke. I watched his throat muscles work before he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Fine. When do we go?”

***

By six thirty the next morning I was out the door with the kids in the car. I had successfully glued George the Gnome back together before I went to bed, although he did look a little rough. Zack had minded a lot less than I expected and decided it needed a Band-aid on one of the glued cracks. After close inspection, Bobby’s gnome had no signs of tampering. No vials. No sperm.

I called Kelly, my freshman roommate at MSU and best friend, and dropped the boys and the gnomes—couldn’t leave them behind—off at her house so I could track down the Gnome Stealer.

Kelly lived west of town about ten miles, south of Four Corners in a neighborhood called Elk Grove. It was a subdivision less than ten years old built on a swath of farmland. Surrounding it was more farmland. No trees. The Spanish Peaks were front and center and that meant Big Sky, the ski resort was nearby, and further on, Yellowstone. The Gallatin River flowed just across the road, home to some of the best rainbow trout anywhere. The houses were all different, the fences the same and the neighbors friendly. You had to drive slowly or you’d run over a kid or two. They were everywhere. Kelly’s house looked like a red barn. You couldn’t miss it as it was the only one in that unusual style. With seven kids, they were piled in, but she was happy and that was what counted.

She’d married her college sweetheart, Tom, at twenty-one and pushed out her first kid a year later. Every two years after that another one came. She had a brood ranging in age from sixteen to two and she’d wanted each and every one. They were all planned, although she seemed to get pregnant by just being in the same room with Tom. They didn’t need any help from Goldilocks.

If Kelly was über-mom, I was average mom. She home schooled. I’d rather stick a fork in my eye than do it. Her kids were well mannered and they all got along really well. No bickering or fighting. Or at least not much. I was so impressed by her ability to juggle everything life had to offer. But she’d known what she wanted way back in college. A big, crazy family. I, on the other hand, was still trying to figure out what I wanted to be when I grew up.

Zach and Bobby ran to the jungle gym in the backyard to play with Kelly’s kids before I could get out of the car. I saw at least five or six heads jumping and swinging and heard a whole lot of screaming and yelling—even at seven in the morning. No hugs and kisses for me. Oh well.

Kelly waved to me from the front door. She wore shorts, a pink tank top and flip flops. At five-one, she was what you’d call petite. After seven kids, she was round in all the right places but seemed to melt off the baby fat like Crisco in a hot pan after every birth. Keeping up with them could do that. Her hair was blond and cut short into a chic style. A cross between Meg Ryan and Tinkerbell. I’m not sure how she did it, but it always looked good. Brushed, never a hair out place. Maybe she used tons and tons of hairspray. I never asked. I didn’t want to seem petty and jealous of her gorgeous hair. My curly, dirty blond mess always looked like I kept my head out the window of a car for an hour like a dog. And that was after attempts at styling. It was impossible to style wayward curls. Usually, my hair went into a ponytail and stayed there.

Kelly was jealous of me being skinny, I was jealous of her hair. Go figure.

Cute or not, jealous or not, I did not want seven kids. Having only two was worth a perpetual bad hair day.

I stepped out of the car and leaned an arm on the top of the door. “They’re in the backyard,” I told her.

She laughed from the porch. “Seven kids, nine kids, what’s the difference?”

To me, a lot. To her, not much.

I promised her an update when I came back later and was off.

I cruised back into town to get Ty, my older-model Jeep Cherokee chugging along. It was black and I’ve had it longer than I’ve had the boys. It wasn’t that pretty anymore. It only got an occasional summer wash so the shine was gone. A few door dings, kid stains and hail damage from the storm of twenty-ten. But it got me where I wanted to go, especially in the snow and cold. There was no point in wasting money on a flashy car when I didn’t go far and had messy kids, so it would have to catch fire before I replaced it.

Ten minutes later I pulled in front of Ty’s house and knocked on his door.

He held a cup of coffee when he let me in. He looked me up and down.

I wore a pair of olive capri cargo pants, a white V-neck T shirt and a pair of Keds sneakers. My hair was down as I’d showered and let it wind dry in the car on the way to Kelly’s.  It now spilled around my shoulders in a windblown casual look. Or at least that was what I was going for.

If you had to dress up in Bozeman, you wore a clean pair of jeans and your best boots. My wardrobe screamed casual. Why dress fancy when I usually collected dirt, grease—from food and bike chains—grass stains and other mystery spots over the course of a day? At least I had mascara, sunscreen moisturizer and lip gloss on, and that was pretty darn fancy.

I felt as if he was looking through my clothes and pictured me naked. Which he already had, at least one part of me.

“I’ll drive,” he said. “Be right back.”

“Um, sure.” As I slipped on my sunglasses, I made a mental note to wear nicer underwear tomorrow. If he were going to undress me with his eyes, I might as well be dressed to impress.

“Sure you don’t want me to drive?” I asked after he locked his front door.

He lifted one eyebrow in a look that screamed I was nuts to even consider it. “If I’m going with you, I’m driving.”

“Control freak?” I asked.

“Definitely.” He beeped his truck open with the lock remote. It was a very nice and new four door Toyota Tacoma pickup that could haul anything and everything. Silver. Typical rugged, outdoors guy car. Immaculately clean as if he spent hours washing and buffing it. Even smelled brand new. If I locked him in my house for a couple hours, I’d bet it would be super clean. Something to remember.