Heart of Texas Vol. 2 (12 page)

“Richard,” she whispered. “I'm hungry.”

He opened his eyes and blinked a couple of times.

“I'm hungry,” she repeated, louder this time.

“Get out of here, kid.”

“I want my mommy,” she said, and her lower lip wobbled. “I don't like it here. I want to go home.”

Richard slowly sat up and rubbed his face. “Get lost, will ya?”

Maggie didn't mean to, but she started to cry. She'd always thought Richard was her friend, and now she knew he wasn't.

“Stop it!” he shouted and scowled at her.

Sobbing, Maggie ran away from him.

“Maggie,” he called after her, but she didn't stop, running between two of the buildings. “Damn it.”

Maggie pre tended not to hear him and, thinking he might
try to follow her, she crept down the side of a building, then slipped inside another store.

The town was old. Really, really old. Older than any place she'd ever been. It smelled old. None of the buildings had paint, either. It sure seemed like no one had lived here for a long time. Some of the places had stuff inside. The store had a table and chair and shelves. But there were only a few cans sitting around—they looked kind of strange, like they might burst. Plus a cash register. She'd tried to get it to work, but it wouldn't open for her.

Maggie wasn't sure what kind of shop this had been, but it had a big cupboard. Maybe she could hide from Richard there. She opened the door and saw that it had shelves. On one of the shelves was a doll. A really old one, with a cotton dress and apron and bonnet. The doll's face had been stitched on. It wasn't like any doll she'd ever seen. The only one she owned with cloth arms and legs was Raggedy Ann, but her clothes were bright and pretty. This doll's clothes were all faded.

“Are you scared, too?” she asked the doll.

The stitched red mouth seemed to quaver a bit.

Suddenly she heard Richard's foot steps outside.

“Maggie, damn it! You could get hurt racing around this old town.”

Maggie didn't care what Richard said—she didn't like him. She crouched down inside the cupboard and shut the door, leaving it open just a crack so she could see out.

“Are you hungry?” he called. She watched him stop in the doorway, staring into the building. Maggie's heart pounded hard and she bit her lower lip, afraid he might see her.

“Come on, kid,” he growled.

Maggie clutched the old doll to her chest and closed her eyes. She wanted Richard to go away.

“I'm going to cook break fast now,” he said, moving away. He continued down the sidewalk with heavy foot steps. “When you're ready, you can come and eat, too.”

Maggie waited a long time and didn't move until she smelled bacon frying. Her stomach growled again. It'd been hours and hours since she'd eaten.

Her grip on the doll loosened and she looked into its face again. It was a sad face, Maggie realized, as if the doll was about to cry. Maggie felt like crying, too. She missed her mommy.

Slipping her backpack off her shoulders, Maggie opened it and carefully tucked the sad doll inside.

“I cooked you some bacon and eggs,” Richard called.

This time Maggie couldn't resist. She pushed open the cupboard door and slowly walked out of the old building.

“There you are,” Richard said, holding out a plate to her.

Maggie didn't trust Richard anymore and moved cautiously toward him. If he said something mean, she was prepared to run.

“I'm sorry I yelled at you,” Richard told her.

“What about the bad words?”

“I'm sorry about those, too.”

“Will you take me home now?” she asked, standing in the middle of the dirt street.

Richard stood by the post where people used to hitch their horses. He didn't look like he was sorry, even if he said he was.

Maggie's stomach was empty and making funny noises.

“You really want to go home now?” Richard asked. He sounded surprised that she'd want to leave. He made it seem like she was supposed to be having fun.

“I want to see my mommy.”

“Okay, okay, but we need to talk about it first.” He set the
plate of food aside and sat down on the steps leading to the raised sidewalk.

“Why?”

He scratched his head. “Do you remember Grady getting mad at Savannah about coming to the ghost town?” he asked.

Maggie nodded. Grady had been real upset with Savannah when he found out she'd been to the town. Savannah had come to look for special roses, and Grady had stomped around the house for days. Even Laredo wasn't happy when Savannah wanted to come back and look for more roses.

“Now, this is very important,” Richard said, his voice low and serious. “You mustn't let anyone know where you've been, understand?”

Her chin came up a little. “Why not?”

“You love your mommy, don't you?” Maggie nodded.

“If anyone finds out you've been here…” He stopped and glanced in both directions as if he was afraid someone might be listening. “If anyone finds out, then something really bad will happen to your mother.”

Maggie's eyes grew big.

“Do you know what ghosts are?” Richard asked.

“Melissa Washing ton dressed up in a sheet and said she was a ghost last Halloween,” Maggie told him.

“There are good ghosts and bad ghosts.”

“Which kind live here?” Maggie whispered.

“Bad ones,” he whispered back. His voice was spooky. She wondered if he was trying to scare her on purpose.

“Bad ones?” she repeated faintly.

“Very bad ones, and if you tell anyone, even your best friend, then the bad ghosts will find out and hurt your mother.”

“How…how will they hurt Mommy?”

“You don't want to know, kid.” He squeezed his eyes shut and made an ugly face, as if just telling her about it would upset him.

Maggie blinked, not sure she should believe him.

“Remember when Wiley cut his hand and Savannah had to wrap it up for him?”

“Yes…”

“That's what bad ghosts will do to your mommy, only it wouldn't just be her hand.”

Maggie forgot all about the smell of bacon. Wiley's hand had bled and bled. Blood had gotten every where, and she could remember being surprised that one hand had so much blood in it. Just looking at it had made her feel sick to her stomach.

“You wouldn't want anything bad like that to happen to your mommy, would you?”

Maggie shook her head.

“I didn't think so.”

“Can I go home now?”

He studied her for a long time. “You won't tell anyone?”

“No.”

“Cross your heart?”

“Cross my heart.” She made a big X over her heart.

“I'd hate to see your mommy hurt, wouldn't you?” Maggie nodded.

“Then maybe it'd be all right if I took you home.”

Maggie sighed with relief. She was tired and hungry, and all she wanted was to see her mother again.

Richard helped her into the cab of Grady's truck. He made her curl up on the seat and keep her head down so she couldn't see as they drove away. Every time she closed her eyes she thought about a bad ghost and what might happen to her mother if she told anyone where she'd been. She still wasn't sure if Richard was lying, but she couldn't take any chances.
She remembered how angry Grady had been with Savannah. When she asked her mother about it, Caroline had explained that Savannah had gone to a dangerous place. Now Maggie understood why Grady was so upset. That town was really creepy, and the more she thought about it, the more she believed there were bad things in those buildings.

The ride was bumpy and she was tossed about, but Richard wouldn't let her sit up and look out the window until they were on the real road.

“Remember, kid, you never saw me. Got that?”

“I never saw you,” she repeated solemnly.

“Your mother's life depends on you keeping your trap shut. You wouldn't want your mother dead, would you?”

“No.”

“Good. Just remember that the first time you're tempted to tell someone where you were.”

“I'll remember. I won't tell.” Maggie didn't want her mommy to die. Not like her grand mother. Or Savannah's parents. Or Emma Bishop's daddy.

Richard didn't drive her all the way back to the Yellow Rose. He stopped at the top of the driveway, leaned across her and opened the truck door.

“Remember what I said,” he told her again. His eyes were mean.

“I'll remember,” she promised, and before he could change his mind, she climbed out of the truck. She stumbled as she jumped down and fell, scraping her elbows. She began to cry, hardly noticing that Richard had driven off, tires squealing.

With her backpack hitting her shoulder blades, Maggie raced toward the ranch house. The driveway was long and her legs felt like they were on fire before the house finally came into view.

Grady stood on the porch with a cup of coffee, but the
moment he saw her, he gave a loud shout and flung the cup away. Then he leaped off the porch without using any of the steps and ran toward her.

Almost immediately afterward, her mother threw open the screen door and placed both hands over her mouth. Then she started running, too. Maggie had never been so happy to see her mother. She was even glad to see Grady. He waited for Caroline and let her go to Maggie first. Maggie liked that.

Her mother caught her in her arms and held her tight, then started to cry. She was worried about the bad ghosts, Maggie reasoned. She didn't need to be afraid, because Maggie wouldn't tell. Not anyone. Not ever.

Grady wrapped his arms around them both. He closed his eyes the way people did in church when they prayed. When he opened them again, he smiled at her. Maggie liked the way he smiled. It was a nice smile, not mean.

“Boy, we're glad to see you,” he said.

 

S
AVANNAH WIPED THE TEARS
from her face as she strolled along the pathway in her rose garden. But this morning she didn't appreciate the beauty of the roses. Nor did she find the solace she normally did here. If she lived to be a hundred years old, she didn't want to go through another day like the past one.

Although Caroline had repeatedly told her it wasn't her fault that Maggie had turned up missing, Savannah blamed herself. She'd been preoccupied with baking bread, her head full of the romance developing between her brother and her best friend. What she
should
have been doing was keeping careful watch over her best friend's child.

“I thought I'd find you here.” Laredo walked up from behind her.

She didn't want him to know she'd been crying, but wasn't sure she could hide it.

“Sweetheart, why are you still upset? Maggie's home safe and sound.”

“I know.”

“Then what's bothering you?”

Her chest tightened, and she waited until the ache eased before she answered. “My brother.”

Laredo clasped her shoulders. “Richard?”

She nodded. “He was involved in Maggie's disappearance. I know it.”

“I have to admit it's mighty suspicious.”

“Maggie won't say a word. Everyone's tried to get her to say where she was, but she refuses. Even Frank Hennessey can't get her to budge.”

“It doesn't matter. She's home now.”

“But it
does
matter,” Savannah said passionately. “Laredo, tell me, where did Grady and I go wrong?”

“Sweetheart, your brother's an adult who makes his own decisions. You didn't do anything wrong. You're his sister, not his mother, and even if you were, I'd say the same thing. Richard is his own person, responsible for himself.”

“In my head I agree with everything you're saying, but that doesn't take away the pain.”

Laredo guided her to the patio set and made her sit down in one of the white wrought-iron chairs.

“I was the one who convinced Grady to let him stay.”

“Yes, but that's because Richard's your brother.”

“If I'd listened to Grady that first night, none of this would have happened.”

“Oh, my love, that's the risk of having a gentle heart. Someone's bound to take advantage of it. I'm sorry it had to be your own brother.”

“He's hurt so many people.” That was what troubled Savannah most. It wasn't just she and Grady who'd been hurt, but
others. Who knew how many? Wherever he'd spent the past six years, she had no doubt he'd left victims behind. People like the shop keepers in Promise. He'd defrauded them, humiliated them, and ultimately
she
was the one to blame. Savannah didn't know if she could forgive herself. “I should've let Grady kick him out that first day,” she muttered fiercely.

“You don't think he's coming back?”

She shook her head. “All his things are gone.”

“Everything?”

She nodded and swallowed tightly. “Including Grady's truck.”

Laredo swore under his breath. “Did Grady talk to Sheriff Hennessey?” he asked.

Savannah looked down at her clenched hands. “Yes,” she said, her voice small. “That was when he learned…”

“Learned what?”

She sighed. “There's more, Laredo. Richard's charged thousands of dollars' worth of goods in Promise. He owes money to everyone in town. There was never any check. He didn't intend to pay for any of the things he charged and now he's gone.” She squeezed her eyes shut in an effort to keep the tears at bay. “You should have seen the look on Grady's face when Frank told him. It was the same look he had six years ago—when he found out what Richard did then. After Mom and Dad died…”

Savannah hadn't thought herself capable of such intense anger. She looked her husband in the eye and said, “I think I hate my own brother.”

R
ICHARD HAD BEEN GONE A WEEK.
To Grady, his brother's disappearance was both a blessing and a curse. Only now was Grady getting a complete picture of the damage Richard's extended visit had wrought. Every day since his brother had vanished, a fistful of new bills arrived, charges Richard had made using the family's accounts.

The bills were stacked on Grady's desk, and whenever he looked at them, his anger mounted. He'd made a list of money owed and checked it three or four times before he could grasp the full extent of what Richard had done.

While a majority of businesses in town accepted credit cards, ranchers tended to avoid them. Grady carried only one, and it was tucked in the back of his wallet for emergencies. All his purchases were paid for with cash or put on account, then paid in full at the end of each month.

In the weeks since his return, Richard had taken it upon himself to run into town to pick up supplies, and Grady had let him. Sending his worthless brother on errands had seemed innocent enough, and it freed up Laredo, Wiley and him for the more serious ranching chores. What Grady didn't know was
that every time Richard had driven into town, he'd charged clothing, expensive liquor, all kinds of things, on the family accounts. It added up to nearly eight thousand dollars, not including the money still owed on some of his earlier purchases. Richard had masterfully hidden what he'd done, robbing Peter to pay Paul, returning goods and buying other things with the credits. He'd managed to disguise his actions using a number of clever cons. Merchants had trusted him. Trusted the Weston name.

Now Richard was gone, and just like six years earlier, Grady was stuck with the mess he'd left behind.

Unable to tolerate looking at the stack of past due notices, Grady grabbed his hat and abandoned his office. The day was hot, although it was only nine in the morning, and he was supposed to meet Wiley and the hired hands near Gully Creek.

He was halfway to the barn when he saw Frank Hennessey's patrol car coming down the driveway, kicking up a plume of dust in its wake. Grady paused and waited for the lawman. With any luck Frank would have some word about Richard and the stolen truck. Whereas Grady hadn't filed charges against his brother six years ago, he felt no such compunction now. He wanted Richard found and prosecuted to the full extent of the law.

Richard deserved a jail term, if for nothing more than the agony he'd caused Caroline by kid nap ping Maggie. Until the day he died, Grady wouldn't understand what had prompted his brother to steal away with the child.

For her part Maggie seemed to have made a full recovery. Thank God. She clung to Caroline, but that was understandable. She refused to talk about where she'd gone or who she'd been with, but anyone with half a brain knew it'd been Richard. If Grady had anything for which to thank his useless
brother, it was that he'd had the common decency to bring Maggie back to her mother.

Frank parked the patrol car in the yard and slowly climbed out of the driver's seat. “Morning, Grady.” He touched the brim of his hat.

“Frank.” Grady nodded in greeting. “I hope you've come with good news.”

“Good and bad, I'm afraid,” Frank said. By tacit agreement the two men headed toward the house for coffee. Savannah was busy in her office, updating her rose catalog on the computer, but she'd recently put on a fresh pot.

Grady poured them each a cup but didn't sit down. When it was a question of receiving news about Richard, he preferred to do it standing up.

“What have you learned?” Grady asked, after giving Frank a moment to taste the coffee. He leaned against the kitchen counter and crossed his ankles. Frank remained standing, as well.

“First, your truck's been found.”

This was an unexpected and pleasant surprise. Grady had driven the old Ford pickup for ten years now, and he'd grown attached to it. The thought of being forced to buy a new one had rankled, especially in light of the mounting bills.

“Richard abandoned it in Brewster,” Frank said, “and stole another.”

While he wasn't surprised, Grady would almost rather lose his truck permanently than have his own brother steal some other rancher's vehicle.

“It was a newer model,” Frank said with a soft snicker. “Apparently yours was a bit too old to suit his image.”

Grady didn't miss the sheriff's well-placed sarcasm.

“Only this truck had an additional ad vantage,” Frank muttered.

“What's that?”

“The owner kept a rifle mounted in the back window.”

Grady took a moment to mull over the information. “You don't think Richard would actually use it, do you?”

The lawman shrugged. “Given the right set of circumstances, I wouldn't put it past him.”

Grady had never thought of Richard as violent. He'd proved himself to be a weasel and a lowlife, but the fact that he might be brutal enough to use a weapon against another human being surprised even Grady. “What makes you think that?” Grady asked, afraid of what Frank was going to say. Last night he'd alluded briefly to something Richard had done back East, but at the time they were all too concerned about Maggie to give it much thought. “What do you know about Richard?”

The sheriff had never been one to hedge, and he didn't do so now. “It gives me no pleasure to tell you this, but there's been an arrest warrant issued for him from New York City.”

“New York? On what charge?”

“The list is as long as my arm,” Frank said with real regret. “Extortion for one. Richard's been involved in a number of scams, most of them bilking immigrants from Central and South America. Apparently he fed them a pack of lies, luring them into the country with promises of housing and jobs. Promises he had no intention of keeping. He set them up in ware houses in horrible conditions, forced them into menial jobs from which he collected most of their pay. It made big news on the East Coast when his activities were un covered. Somehow he managed to scrape together the bail, then hit the road the minute he was freed.”

Grady had been angry at his brother and furious at himself, too, for allowing Richard to worm his way back into their lives with his hard-luck story. Richard had taken advantage of his family; that was bad enough. But to learn he'd made
a profession of stealing from others made Grady sick. How was it that his own brother—born of the same two parents, raised in the same house hold—could have lowered himself to such depths? If he lived to be an old man, Grady would never understand what had turned Richard into the type of person who purposely hurt others.

“I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, Grady,” Frank said again.

“I realize that.” His voice sounded strange even to his own ears.

“When and if we find Richard, I won't have any choice but to arrest him.”

“I understand.” Grady wouldn't expect anything less. It was what his brother deserved.

“I talked to the New York district attorney this morning. The state wants him bad. Apparently there's been quite a bit of press regarding his arrest and the charges brought against him. He's hurt a lot of people, Grady.”

“What happened to him? What made Richard the way he is?” The questions were rhetorical; Grady didn't actually expect the sheriff to supply an answer.

Frank shook his head. “Hell if I know. I liked Richard. He was always charming and clever—but somehow that turned into conniving and un trust worthy. Why he's like that, I couldn't say. Over the years I've met other people who were just as rotten, and I don't believe environment or bad circumstances is always the explanation. Your parents were God-fearing folk, and they raised him right. The fault lies within Richard himself.”

Although Grady already knew as much, it helped to have a lawman as experienced as Frank confirm it.

“Eventually Richard will be caught,” Frank said, as if he
felt the necessity to prepare Grady for the inevitable. “And when he is, he'll be headed straight for prison.”

It hurt to think of his brother doing jail time, but Grady's sympathies went out to all the people Richard had cheated, himself included.

Grady walked Frank out to his patrol car, then made his way to the barn. He whistled for Rocket and stopped abruptly when the dog didn't come. Rocket's hearing was getting bad, and he'd grown arthritic; these days, he mostly enjoyed lazing about on the front porch. But he still liked to ac company Grady to the barn. Just to reassure himself, Grady decided to check on his dog. Rocket had belonged to his father and was already middle-aged—seven years old—at the time of the accident. In the hard, financially crippling years that followed, the dog had become Grady's constant sidekick and friend. He'd shared his woes, frustrations, joys and sorrows with Rocket, and the old dog always gave him comfort.

A smile came to him when he saw the dog lying on his usual braided rug. He whistled again. “Come on, boy, we've got work to do.”

Rocket remained still.

As Grady approached the front porch, his steps slowed. He wasn't sure when he realized his faithful companion was gone, but by the time he reached the porch steps, his heart was full of dread.

“Rocket,” he whispered and hunkered down beside the dog.

One touch con firmed the worst. Rocket had died, apparently in his sleep.

An intense sadness settled over Grady. On a ranch dogs came and went, and he'd learned the downfall of becoming too attached to any one animal. But Rocket was special. Different. Rocket was a loyal intelligent dog—the best dog
he'd ever had; Rocket was also the last tangible piece of his father.

His throat ached and he bowed his head for several minutes, not even trying to fight back the tears.

Once he'd composed himself, he sought out his sister. He found her working in her garden. “I need a shovel,” he announced without emotion, as if he didn't know where one was kept.

As he knew she would, Savannah guessed immediately that something wasn't right. “What happened?”

He steeled himself and told her. “Rocket's gone. It looks like he died in his sleep.”

He watched as the sadness trans formed her face. Tears filled her eyes. “Oh, Grady, I'm so sorry. I know how much you loved him.”

“He was just a dog,” he said with a stoicism he didn't feel.

“Not an ordinary dog,” she added gently.

“No, not ordinary,” he agreed, the pain of loss tightening his chest. “If you agree, I'd like to bury him in your garden by the rosebush you named after Mom.”

She nodded mutely.

They worked side by side, brother and sister. Grady dug the grave, grateful for the physical effort that helped vent his pain. Again and again he was forced to remind himself that Rocket was just a dog, like a dozen or more who'd lived and died through the years. But he couldn't make himself believe it.

When he finished, he placed a rock as a marker. Savannah stood beside him.

“Goodbye, Rocket,” she whispered.

“Goodbye, old friend,” Grady said.

Savannah sobbed and turned into his arms. Grady held her, battling back emotion himself. An image came to mind,
a memory—his father crouched down and Rocket running toward him, leaping into his arms, joyfully licking his face. Their reunion would be a happy one, but Grady knew there'd be a hole in his heart for a long time to come.

 

“I'
M GLAD WE COULD FINALLY
meet for lunch,” Ellie Frasier said, sliding into the booth at the bowling alley café.

Jane Dickinson smiled in welcome. She'd been waiting ten minutes, but she tended to be early, a habit her family had instilled in her. This lunch date was something she'd really looked forward to, although it had been difficult to arrange with both their schedules so busy. But Dovie had encouraged Jane to meet Ellie, mentioning her in almost every conversation.

Jane had come to think of Dovie as a mentor and friend. Stopping to talk with her that first morning she'd gone for a jog had been one of the smartest things she'd done since moving to Promise. Unfortunately Dovie was still the only person in town she knew on a first-name basis. Despite her efforts to become part of the community, friendly gestures from the other residents of Promise were few and far between.

“So…Dovie thought it would be a good idea for the two of us to get to know each other,” Ellie said, reaching for the menu.

“I realize you're getting married soon,” Jane said as a means of starting the conversation. “You must be terribly busy….”

Ellie nodded. “The wedding's only a couple of weeks away.” A wistful look stole over her face. Jane recognized that look—it was the look of a woman in love.

Jane envied her happiness. After medical school and then working as an intern, followed by her residency at a huge public-health hospital in Los Angeles, there hadn't been time in her life for anything other than medicine. Now she was
trapped in Texas with only one friend and zero prospects for romance.

Ellie did little more than glance at the menu before she set it aside.

Jane had spent several minutes reading over the se lections, but had failed to make a choice. “You know what you're going to have?”

“I almost always order the chicken-fried steak.”

The thought of all those fat grams was enough to make Jane feel queasy. Even the salads listed on the menu were ones she normally avoided—coleslaw with mayonnaise dressing, for instance. Most of the food was battered and fried. Even the vegetables. Okra coated in cornmeal and cooked in a deep fryer. The same with tomatoes. It was a wonder anyone lived beyond twenty-five in this town. The eating habits here were probably the un healthiest she'd seen in years. It was time the people of Promise caught up with the latest in formation on health and diet.

“The chicken-fried steak is great,” Ellie coaxed when Jane continued to study the menu.