Hide and Seek (15 page)

Melissa nodded. “According to the news, Gulf Power won’t be able to restore electricity for days.”

"Holt has a lot of repairs and cleaning up to do. How about yourself?"

"I lost power and some shingles. It's an inconvenience, but my dad and the folks in Virginia had it far worse with Esmeralda.”

One of the girls screeched, causing an echo on the tiled floors. Melissa softly reprimanded her then stood to leave. "Early Saturday morning, Scott and I are taking the girls away from this mess to a dinosaur museum in Tallahassee.” Melissa snatched her car keys from the counter. “Holt won’t want to go, but you and Shawn should come. It’s mostly an indoor exhibit which means there will be blessed cool air.”

Caprice’s thoughts veered to the planner and Alan’s determination. “Thank you. I’ll think about it."

****

The following day a westbound sun struck orange rays from behind towering thunderheads as Holt led a saddled gray into a circular enclosure several feet from the barn.

Caprice's hold tightened on Shawn's hand. She didn’t know much about such huge animals. The only experience Shawn had with horses was an occasional pony ride at the county fair, but Holt was at ease around them. He seized the wide leather strip, looping it through the saddle’s heavy, metal ring. He pulled up on the leather and cinched the girth.

He bent and gripped Shawn around the middle. "Up you go, son."

Son.
Her heart thudded. The Stetson’s brim shielded Holt's eyes, but had Shawn read his lips?

Holt stood at the horse's massive shoulder, the toe of his boot touching a steel-shod hoof. He gripped the leather reins and showed Shawn how to control his mount.

Shawn repeated the reining movements and looked to the man for approval. Holt touched his fingertips to his chin then dropped them into his left palm.

"The kid catches on fast,” he said as they stepped outside the ring.

Admiration for him warmed her as Holt shut the gate. "So do you. Either you've been watching us, or you've studied the sign language book."

"Maybe a little of both." Over the fence rails, he gestured to the horse. "Jezebel, walk."

The mare moved along the ring's sandy perimeter as Caprice leaned on the fence. “Sure he’ll be safe?”

“Why not? Jezzy practically raised my nieces.”

Reassured as well as amused by his response, Caprice inhaled warm air still damp from the storm’s soaking. Her spirits lifted as cattle lowed in the distance. “It's so peaceful here, and your animals are beautiful."

"I told you my Limousins are special." A challenge filled his gaze. "I’ve been thinking…I want to commission you to paint my cattle and the land, minus the pile of debris by the drive, of course. Depict the ranch the way you saw it when we arrived, but paint from the heart."

She shifted. "I appreciate what you're…”

“Lady, you’re dragging around a guilt-filled duffle. Don't cheat others out of your gifts."

"Mom." Shawn stopped the mare. After pointing to them, Shawn circled his right hand over his open left palm then clasped his hands.

Like a blast from a hot oven, heat struck her face. Narrowing her gaze, she signed.
Do not make those decisions for me.

When Shawn looked as if he would argue, she signed and spoke. "Get off now?"

Shawn shook his head. Rocking his heels up and down against the horse’s sides, he urged Jezebel into a slow trot.

Holt dipped his head and chuckled. "Caprice, someday you should remarry.”

"You understood!" A flush singed her skin. Yet, she hurt for Shawn. "He admires you.”

"The boy needs someone who accepts him for himself.”

Caprice appreciated Holt’s adamant feelings then asked what had been on her mind. "Did you want children with Lilah?"

He considered her question. Resting his booted foot onto the lowest rung of the fence, he worked at the red clay packed in the heel’s crevice like a bad memory.

"She was in her second trimester when she left me. I found her two weeks later in Jacksonville with a Naval officer.” After a moment, he added, "Lilah insisted she had miscarried.” He shrugged. “And, maybe she did. I don’t know, but my child would have been Shawn’s age by now.”

As if by their own volition, Holt’s lips twisted, mirroring his confusion. How had he so easily admitted that to Caprice? He had never told a soul about the baby, not his father or Melissa. He searched Caprice’s gaze for some element of witchcraft. Instead, she briefly rested her hand on his arm.

"I am sorry.”

He lifted his shoulders. "Life has a way of making you come to heel like a dog on a leash. Lilah hated the ranch's isolation, but this place is in my blood. I'll never leave."

Jezebel slowed her pace, and shook her head, jangling the bridle’s chin chain.

Holt rested his forearms over the rail and commanded softly, “Jezzy, walk on.”

"I've never seen this side to Shawn. He’s fascinated with your horses, and I love the peace.”

A warm rush rippled through Holt at the smile in her tone. Caprice understood and appreciated the beauty surrounding them, but he knew better too. "You'll be happy to return to Charleston,” He searched the sky as a light plane descended and its lazy drone grew louder. "Besides, this ranch is too secluded for a woman."

Caprice stiffened beside him. Granted his remark was downright sexist, possibly unfair, but the comment had just slipped out. It was what he felt and what he knew.

"Has it occurred to you that some women are the staying kind?"

Her arsenic-laced tone amused him, but experience had taught him differently. "Like I was saying earlier about remarrying, first, start dating men that…"

The plane’s engine abruptly throttled back. Holt looked up to see the barrel of a high-powered rifle from the cockpit’s open door.

He gripped Caprice’s arm. “Get to the barn! Go!”

A well-placed shot sent the dirt flying near Jezebel’s back legs. The startled animal tucked her tail. She side-jumped, but Shawn stayed seated. He pointed to his ear. “Mom?”

Caprice screamed. She started to clamber over the fence rails, but Holt gripped her hips. “Go to the barn. Now!”

“Get Shawn!”

Another shot blasted the stock trailer and ripped through the metal roof. Caprice released a terrified shriek. Holt scaled the fence and jumped into the ring. He hooked his arm around Shawn’s middle, and lifted him from the saddle as Caprice unlocked the gate.

“Nooo! Ride.”

Snorting and wide-eyed, Jezebel’s neck was bunched, her noise-affronted ears pricked. Her tail raised and flagging, she blocked Holt’s escape. He slapped the mare’s rump. In a furious fit of confusion, Jezzy bolted through the opening toward Caprice. She jumped back and instinctively shoved her fists against the mare’s shoulder as she plowed past.

“To the barn,” he ordered and gripped her hand. “Move it! Move it!”

As the plane banked hard for another pass, Shawn twisted in his arms. "Hoorze!"

Once they were inside the barn’s dim aisle way, Holt set Shawn on his feet and led them into the tack room. Holt’s shoulders bumped leather halters and bridles sending them to the floor, but he was too thunderous to care. For the first time in years he wanted to choke a woman.

“Dammit! I told you to run for the barn.”

Her eyes blazed. “Not without my son.”

Shawn tapped her arm and sobbed. “Mom? Ride?”

Still furious, Holt slammed his Stetson onto a wooden shelf. “And, Jezzy nearly trampled you.”

A shot hit the corner of the barn’s roof. Wood splintered and Caprice blanched. She grabbed Shawn. Their argument forgotten, Holt reached to pull her quaking form against him. “Shh. We’re okay.”

“How are we safe in here?”

He pointed to the ceiling. “A bullet would have to penetrate the roof, the roof deck below that, then two rows deep of bundled shingles that I keep stored in the loft.”

Her lips trembled, and she was about to respond when a heavy saddle slid from its rack and hit Shawn’s shoulder. Swearing harshly, glad the boy couldn’t hear him, Holt reset the saddle before drawing his cell phone from his back pocket.

He jabbed the numbers for emergency, but his heart twisted when Caprice dashed at her eyes.

“Nine-one-one. Do you need police, fire, or medical?”

While Holt answered, then verified his address, Caprice knelt before Shawn. She tapped her watch with an index finger. "Ride another time,” she said as Holt finished with the sheriff’s department.

“They’re sending a couple of units to the house,” he said aware of the plane’s fading drone.

When Caprice stood, she was pale. His decision to keep Diablo’s murder to himself had been a wise one, after all. “They’re miles out now,” he soothed. “Let’s go to the house.”

“Holt, I’ve had it.” Her voice wavered with uncustomary defeat. “We have to leave.”

“Those were just warning shots, a scare tactic,” he said, framing her face with his hands. “Montero’s trying to flush you out, but if you leave, you’ll be playing right into his hands, putting yourself and Shawn into real danger. Do you want that?”

“No. Of course, not.” Stepping away, she inhaled and managed a tremulous smile, and he realized she was the bravest woman he had ever known. “It sounds like we have company.”

****

That evening, long after several deputies and a detective had left after promising twenty-four hour surveillance of his house and properties, Holt sensed Caprice was cautiously composed.

He rolled down his old Ford’s window and turned onto the county road. Caprice and Shawn were safe inside the house with the alarm set, while he was determined to purchase food from Billy Jo's Convenience Store…providing she had power.

Lightning flashed, illuminating the occasional tree canopy half-obstructing the road. From behind his truck, high beams reflected in his rear view mirror as a vehicle approached like a bull eager to mount. The driver laid on the horn. Holt slowed, willing the other vehicle to pass. He wanted the road and his thoughts to himself.

Slapped with varying thicknesses of red body putty, the dated Chevy pick-up drew alongside. Men’s laughter roared from the open windows. Holt ignored them until a beer bottle, clattered across his hood. The Chevy’s driver gunned the engine and rammed his Ford’s front quarter panel.

What the hell?
Holt hit the brakes, and shoulder gravel pinged, spraying the chassis. The other truck roared ahead then disappeared around a sharp bend.

His mood matched the dark night when he turned toward the well-lit convenience store located adjacent to Billy Jo’s home and property. Orange barrels strung with rope, partitioned the parking area protecting a new coat of blacktop. He cranked the wheel, and the tires churned the gravel on the building’s unpaved side.

When he stopped beside a green Dumpster, he killed the ignition, and the crude smell of freshly-applied asphalt invaded the truck’s open windows.

Once outside his vehicle, Holt surveyed the fender under the store’s lighting then shrugged. A new dent added character to his truck, but who else would those drunks terrorize on the road?

The store’s glass door was propped open with a yellow real estate box. Inside, a slim brunette sat on a tall stool behind the counter. To him, Billy Jo had always been Mike’s cookie-baking mother, but around town the widow was known for an explosive temper when protecting her small business.

Billy Jo looked up from her laptop. She tilted her head to one side and removed her reading glasses. "Holt LeBerger? Is that you, all shaved and shorn?”

He motioned toward the coolers. “I see you have electricity. New generator paying for itself?”

“It’s running the lights too. I can’t complain.”

With his boot heels scuffing the worn linoleum, Holt headed for the freezers where he selected rocky road ice cream, a flavor Shawn would like. At the dairy cooler he removed a gallon of whole milk. Not unlike his cows and their calves, Shawn needed plenty of calcium. The kid needed real food too, like beef and not Caprice’s namby-pamby vegetarian diet.

As he approached the counter with his purchases, Billy Jo handed him a Styrofoam cup filled with steaming coffee. He made a production of looking around the store. “Okay…what’s broken?"

"Not a thing, but could you loan me a chainsaw? My beautiful dogwoods and live oaks took a beating.”

“I’ll send Brian over. He’s young, but he’s clever with a chainsaw.”

“Thank you. Under the circumstances, I’m grateful for any help.” Billy Jo regarded him. “Doc Goff was here. He’s been trying to contact you.”

Holt grunted. He didn’t want to discuss the doc. “How’s Mike these days?”

“He and Pam are busy with work and raising those three rascals, but a granddaughter would be a blessing too.”

She totaled his purchases and set the ice-cream and milk into two separate bags. “I heard some of your bulls and cows stole several divisions at the Denver stock show recently."

“Just a few.”

"You're too modest.” Her expression changed and a soft wistfulness entered her tone. “LeBerger men have their many faults. Determined to have things done their way is one, but they're always honest.”

Holt grabbed his purchases and headed for the door then considered her words. He stopped and turned. She was attractive, intelligent, and had lived in Elixir since he could remember.

“What is it?” She looked down and swept her shirt. “Damnation! Did I spill yogurt on myself again?”

“Didn’t you attend high school with my dad?”

“Jack was two years ahead of me. That was well over thirty years ago.” A fleeting smile curved her lips. “Actually, he asked me to his prom.”

“What happened?”

She shrugged. “I went with Mike’s dad instead, married him, and Jack never forgave me.”

As Holt started for his truck, his thoughts turned to Caprice. Granted, she was off limits, but he looked forward to a quiet evening talking and listening to her blood-heating drawl.

He stopped at the truck's door and dug into his pocket for his keys when a footfall ground the gravel behind him.

A distinct beer-breath odor hung in the humid air. His nape hairs prickling, Holt turned to face a beefy, rough-skinned man. “LeBerger, we have a message from Mr. Montero.”