Russ bumped down the pitted dirt trail that snaked across Bruce and Ida Puckett’s front pasture to a dusty parking spot in front of their rundown farmhouse. He had smelled smoke a mile down the road and every light in the farmhouse and even sorrier looking barn was shining into the dark night. Dutch Ketcham, chief of the Heaven’s Point and Verde volunteer fire departments, stood beside the small fire truck talking to Bruce and Ida while the rest of the volunteers sprayed down what was left of a good-sized chicken coop, the smoke-blackened walls swaying precariously in the brisk evening breeze and the odor of burning chicken flesh rank in the air. Smoke-blackened feathers floated along the ground in the wind and the occasional bedraggled-looking chicken squawked indignantly as Russ gathered up his electronic pad and strode toward the three solemn faces surveying the damage.
“Dutch, good to see you,” Russ said as they shook hands. “Mr. Puckett, Mrs. Puckett.” Russ stifled a smile as the Pucketts recognized him and their already sour expressions went even further south. “Sorry to have to come out here for this.”
Bruce Puckett, years of hard work and repeated disappointment stamped on his whip-thin body and wrinkled features, merely nodded as he shook Russ’s hand. His plump and pickle-faced wife eyed Russ up and down. “You that Riley boy?” she asked suspiciously.
Yes, I’m the one whose sister is marrying your daughter’s widower, he thought. And the one who outed your only son and his boyfriend last year during a murder investigation. He offered his hand for a quick handshake. “Yes, I’m Russ Riley,” he said mildly. “So fill me in and then I’ll have a look around.”
Ida looked at him disbelievingly. “Isn’t it obvious? Somebody burned down the chicken coop. With the chickens in it, I might add.”
“Yes, ma’am, I can see that,” Russ said. “And I understand one of Angie Baxter’s gift baskets was left at the scene. I have a few questions for the two of you and then I’ll need to see that basket.” He powered up his tablet. “Were you at home this evening when the fire started? Did you see or hear anything out of the ordinary?”
“We were here,” Bruce bit out. “Ida made pork chops and we were catching up on some of the television we missed last week. Didn’t know a thing was wrong until we smelled the smoke. We tried to put it out ourselves but the fire took hold too quickly—we could smell the damned gasoline. Coop was pretty well gone by the time Dutch and his crew got here. Most of the chickens burned, too.”
Russ made a few notes on the tablet. “But you heard and saw nothing until the coop was already on fire? No car, no dog barking, nothing to alert you there was a trespasser on the property?”
“No, we didn’t see or hear anybody coming on the property,” Ida said. “And if anybody had come in the main gate, we would have seen them and heard them.” She motioned toward the wide-open field.
“Only other way in is through the Wyatt pasture,” Bruce volunteered. “And that gate is so narrow no modern vehicle could get through it. They would have had to walk nearly a mile lugging a gasoline can.”
“Unless there was gas here on the premises and whoever did this knew it,” Russ said.
“Hell, I hadn’t thought of that,” Bruce said. “Everybody and God sees me filling the gas tanks down at the station.”
“So it’s common knowledge you have gas out here,” Russ said thoughtfully. “Which direction is this gate?”
Ida pointed toward a thicket of brush and small live oaks—perfect cover for a stealthy exit by the arsonist, especially under the cover of night while the Pucketts were busy with their evening television.
Russ shined his flashlight into the brush and noted that a couple of small branches were dangling and the leaf cover was disturbed. Dutch whistled under his breath. “They may as well have left you a trail of breadcrumbs,” he said. “Didn’t even try to cover their tracks.”
“That’s where they came through,” Russ said needlessly as he turned to Bruce. He checked for footprints but the thick ground cover made it impossible to even make a guess as to shoe size or type. “How about we take a look at your gas cans?”
Bruce led the way to the barn, where three empty gas cans were carelessly thrown on the floor. Ida reached for the cans to straighten them and Russ snapped at her not to touch. “Fingerprints,” he added more gently when Ida jumped and Bruce scowled at him. “I’ll dust them for prints before I go. Now, I need to see the basket that was left at the scene.”
“The damn thing’s on the kitchen table,” Ida said abruptly as she turned on her heel. She led them across the yard and up sagging back porch steps into a faded but spotless avocado-green kitchen. One of Angie’s baskets, ribbons singed and the whole thing covered in soot, sat in the middle of the old oak kitchen table. “I didn’t think of fingerprints when I moved it,” Ida said defensively when Russ looked at the handprint at the top.
“It’s okay, Mrs. Puckett; we probably won’t be able to lift anything off the basket anyway,” Russ said as he donned a pair of gloves and gingerly examined the contents. “Are you a customer of Angie’s?” he asked casually.
“Is that why they left it?” Ida asked instantly. “Is that why they burned down my coop?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t jump to that conclusion,” Russ said quickly. “There is absolutely no telling at this point why your coop was burned or the basket left at the scene.”
Bruce and Ida gave him identical you-have-to-be-kidding looks. “I heard somebody left one at Angie’s shop.” Bruce’s eyes were sharp as they met Russ’s.
“Yes, sir, somebody did,” Russ said. “And of course I’ll look into any possible connection.”
Bruce nodded and peered over Ida’s shoulder. “You use any of the stuff in that basket, hon?”
Ida swiftly glanced over the basket. “Only the moisturizer. I use a different lotion and soap.”
So either what was in the basket was irrelevant to what was going on here or the perpetrator didn’t know Ida’s purchasing habits very well. Interesting. Russ made a quick note and asked the Pucketts a few more questions and carefully bagged the sooty basket in a large evidence bag.
“I’ll need to come back tomorrow morning to take a look at everything in daylight,” he said. “In the meantime, treat the coop and its surroundings and the gas cans as a crime scene. And, I’m real sorry about this,” he added sincerely.
“So are we,” Bruce said. “Ida made almost all our spending money with the eggs. It’ll take us months to replace the coop and raise another batch of laying hens.”
“I’ll do everything I know how to find out who did this to you,” Russ promised the Pucketts. He traded the sooty basket for a big flashlight and joined Dutch and his crew beside the still-smoldering coop, the stench of the burned feathers and animal bodies nearly overpowering. Dutch pointed downward with his own flashlight. “Arson all right, and a sloppy damned job of it if you ask me,” he said. “Either that or the arsonist didn’t really know what he was doing.”
“How so?” Russ asked.
“Look at the pattern. See how this wall isn’t burned evenly? It looks like the gasoline was just kind of thrown on the wall haphazardly and they really didn’t use enough. And there’s gas spilled in three places between here and the barn. Sorry,” he said when Russ looked at him strangely. “I just hate sloppiness.”
“Remind me to do a neat job for you the next time I burn something down,” Russ said. “So tell me exactly what you found here and I’ll put it in my report.”
Dutch condensed his observations into a handful of sentences and Russ added them to his report. He strung up crime scene tape and dusted the gas cans for fingerprints while Dutch and his crew put out the last of the smoldering embers and stowed their equipment and then followed them across the Puckett’s pasture.
Once he had reached the smoother-riding highway he called 911 and asked for Angie’s landline. He could wait and contact her in the morning. And he probably should. That would give him time to sort through his unexpected attraction to her, an attraction that went beyond the physical and one that he did not particularly welcome. But he remembered the way the woman came alive in his arms and decided that he wanted to hear her voice one more time today.
If Angie was surprised to hear from him tonight, she didn’t let on. “What happened out at the Pucketts’?” she asked as soon as Russ identified himself.
“Somebody burned down their chicken coop,” Russ said. “They left one of your baskets at the crime scene. I need you to come by the station in the morning and take a look at it.”
“I’m making a trip to the post office before I open the shop,” Angie said. “I can be at the station by nine.”
“See you at nine, then.” Russ deliberately softened his voice. “I really enjoyed having dinner with you.” He waited a beat. “But the dessert would have been better.”
Angie was silent on the other end of the phone for a minute. “Yes, it would have been,” she said a bit wistfully. “See you in the morning.”
Angie disconnected before Russ had a chance to answer her. Whistling under his breath, he whipped around a curve and spotted a large For Sale sign on the gates to the old Verde Vineyard. “Well, when did that happen?” he said out loud as he slowed down. “I thought they had a good thing going.” On impulse he pulled into the drive leading into the vineyard and aimed his headlights at the headquarters building. It was pitch dark inside and the gate itself was padlocked, but Russ could see that the vineyard was deserted and probably had been for some time. Russ backed up and angled the headlights toward the field planted with grapevines. They too looked neglected and that was a crying shame, Russ thought as he backed the cruiser onto the highway and continued toward Heaven’s Point. At one time the boutique vineyard had been the pride of the Chamber of Commerce, and Russ thought it was sad that the business had fallen on hard times; it had been a real little gem.
*****
Angie donned the gloves Russ handed her and gently poked through the contents of the sooty basket. “Sheesh, this thing stinks,” she said as she turned up her nose.
“If you think this is bad you should have been there,” Russ said. “I’ll bet those poor people lost a hundred chickens or more.”
“More like two hundred, city boy,” Hutch Pruett said from his corner desk.
Russ shrugged. “Okay, two hundred dead, smelly chickens. Not something Angie’s going to want for a soap line any time soon.” He turned back to Angie. “Do you have any memory of this basket?”
“This one and forty-nine more,” Angie said. “This is one of the generic baskets I feature on the website. I made up and sold over fifty of them last month.”
“And what about before that?” Russ asked.
“Plenty, but this body lotion,” she pointed out one of the smoked tubes, “I just started offering for sale last month. So unless somebody bought one earlier and made a substitution, this has to be one of the fifty I mailed out last month.”
“I’ll need the name and address of everyone you mailed one out to,” Russ said.
“No problem,” Angie said. She looked down at the ruined basket. “There has to be a tie-in to that basket I got.”
Russ debated trying to smooth things over and thought better of it. “There probably is, but I have no idea what, so please don’t start jumping to any conclusions, okay?”
“It’s just that Ida Puckett is one of my best customers and I don’t want to lose her business,” Angie said.
“I don’t think you will,” Russ said encouragingly. “Come on, I’ll walk you to your car.”
The sun was already hot on the back of his neck as Russ accompanied Angie to the parking lot. The subtle scent of one of her soaps, a different one from last night, enveloped her hair and her body, mingling with the scent he remembered from last night that was pure Angie.
His body hardened instantly at the memory of how warm and willing she had been in his arms and how right her body had felt against his. “Would you like to do dinner again tonight?” he asked softly. “Maybe tonight we’ll make it all the way to dessert.”
“Uh, maybe not,” Angie said with a wobbly voice even as her eyes ate him alive.
Russ turned on his most engaging smile. “Uh, maybe not dinner or maybe not dessert?”
“Maybe neither,” Angie said. She looked up at Russ nervously. “I got carried away last night,” she said softly. “I don’t just jump into bed like that.”
“Neither do I,” Russ said softly.
“Really?” Angie asked skeptically. “Your reputation says otherwise.”
“Never mind my reputation. Why, Angie? Why not go out with me again?”
Angie swallowed nervously. “Because I don’t know what the hell to do with a man like you. Anyway, thanks for dinner last night.” Her face flaming, Angie jumped in her SUV and practically smoked the tires getting out of the parking lot.
Russ hid his grin until Angie could no longer see his face. So the lovely lady was having second thoughts, he thought as he wandered back into the justice center. She was still attracted to him but she had cold feet. That was all right. He had dealt with plenty of ladies who had to be coaxed a little before they were willing to take the plunge, and if he had been thinking clearly last night and not leading with his desire he would have realized that Angie Baxter was one of them. But that was all right, too. With a little bit of patience and a little bit of coaxing Angie would come around for a quick little no-strings fling they would both enjoy, and the victory would be just that much sweeter for it.
In the meantime, he had interviews to do. He grabbed his tablet off of his desk and found Denton Baxter in the conference room sipping a cup of coffee and dealing with a pile of paperwork.
“What is it about the full moon that brings out the worst in people?” Denton asked tiredly as Russ slid into the chair across from him. “I answered three domestic disturbance calls and then a drunken and disorderly on a woman naked and sloshed in the high-rent district over by Lake Saunders.” Denton shuddered. “She shouldn’t have been drunk and she sure shouldn’t have been outside naked. That was almost a human rights violation.” He pushed his paperwork to one side.
“Let me guess what this is about. You’ve heard the gossip and are wondering just how pissed the Baxter family is with my former sister-in-law and if any of us are still mad enough at her to burn down Ida Puckett’s chicken house in her honor.”
Russ grinned as he powered up his computer. “Your perception of the obvious is outstanding, Denton. So, if you wouldn’t mind filling me in. I knew nothing about the ill will between Angie and the rest of the Baxter family until my future bro-in-law and I had a gossip session. Angie didn’t say a word to me and was rather put out when I brought the subject to her attention. Says relations are better and that she doesn’t want a resumption of ill will.”
“Decent of Angie, especially as nasty as Mom’s been to her over the years. Mom was just sure that after Buck got sent up she was going to get Wade. She nearly had apoplexy when Judge Riley handed Wade over to Angie and for years she didn’t let an opportunity go by to be unpleasant. Not that Angie didn’t dish it right back,” Denton said as a smile played around his mouth. “That pretty little kitten has some claws on her.”
“And now?” Russ asked.
Denton shrugged. “In all honesty? What difference does any of it make? Wade’s grown, he’s turned out wonderfully, and he sees all of us except Buck on a regular basis. I’ll admit that I resented it, too, at first. But damn, Russ, she was a wonderful mom to my nephew and at this point I probably can’t say enough nice things about her.”
“How about your brother Abel? Is he that generous?”
“Abel the asshole? Hardly. But then Abel is an asshole, always has been, always will be.”
“Angie gave me a few names. What about Huey Strong?”
Denton let out with a wicked snicker. “He’s had it in for Angie since he backed her up against a wall and she kneed him in the balls. But he doesn’t have enough imagination to do something like the baskets. Next?”
“Chesney Young?” Russ asked.
Denton shrugged. “I doubt it. The last time he and I talked about Angie, he’s more or less on the same page I am about her raising Wade.”
“Sam Rodriguez?” Russ asked.
“He moved to the Panhandle sometime back.”
Russ read off the last name on the list. “Estelle Puckett? She’s mean enough but she’s so crippled she’s on a walker,” Denton said. “Russ, you know if I had any idea who left the baskets and burned down the henhouse I’d be the first one to tell you. I honestly haven’t a clue.”
“Well, if you don’t, you don’t,” Russ said. “Would you do me one favor? I’d like for you to make it clear to your mom and brother that Angie in no way implicated them.”
“That I will,” Denton said. “Oh, just a suggestion. Talk to Abel at school or someplace public. If you go by his place you’re going to be subjected to a bunch of crap.”
“Thanks for the heads up,” Russ said. “One more question. It’s been ten or eleven years since Buck was sent to prison. Why the hostility now? Any idea what might have triggered this?”
Denton shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.” Russ thanked Denton for his time and telephoned Regional High. The secretary said that in fact Coach Baxter’s conference period began in a half hour. Russ was waiting outside Abel’s classroom when the bell rang. As soon as the last student barreled out of the door, Russ stepped inside and pulled the door shut. “Coach Baxter, I’m Deputy Riley. I need a few moments of your time,” he said in a voice that made it clear that he wasn’t making a request.
Abel Baxter’s eyes hardened as he motioned for Russ to have a seat. A few years younger than Denton and just as big, Abel bore a striking resemblance to his handsome young nephew. Russ didn’t know much about him other than what Angie and Denton said but the man must have at least some redeeming qualities or he wouldn’t be on Jack Briscoe’s faculty.
“My brother called and said you were coming,” Abel said. “Tried to make like Angie hadn’t accused us of anything.”
“She didn’t, actually,” Russ said. “I’m the one who’s asking the questions.” Russ pulled a student desk out of its neat row and sat down. “I’m talking to your former sister-in-law’s family and friends to try to get a handle on what’s going on with the baskets that were left on her front steps and out at the Pucketts’,” he said without preamble.
Abel raised one eyebrow and looked at Russ. “So what are you doing talking to me? I am neither friend nor family to that b—woman,” he corrected himself hastily.
“Then tell me where you were last night between ten and eleven,” Russ said impassively.
“What?” Abel roared, nearly coming out of his chair. He glanced over at the door and dialed back somewhat. “Why in the hell do you want to know where I was last night?”
“Since you are neither friend nor family to Ms. Baxter I can only assume you count yourself an enemy,” Russ continued calmly. “And the person who left those baskets is definitely her enemy. So again. Where were you last night between ten and eleven?”
“At home by myself,” Abel said through clenched teeth. “Look, Riley, I’m not the Easter Bunny and I’m sure not out burning down chicken coops. Not that I give a damn about Angie, but Ida and Bruce Puckett are fine people who didn’t deserve to lose the income from their eggs. And even if I were so inclined, I wouldn’t do anything in this town to further sully the Baxter name. It took years to live down the shame Buck and Angie brought to our family.”
Russ raised his eyebrow and stared at Abel. “You think your sister-in-law was somehow responsible for your family’s embarrassment?”
“It was bad enough what Buck did. She didn’t have to make it worse by cuffing Buck to the damned porch rail and using that prod on him. We were the laughingstock of this town for months.”
“I see.” Russ made a notation on his pad. “So if you don’t mind my asking, why the continued hostility? How long has it been now? Ten years? Eleven? And your nephew turned out to be a fine young man, didn’t he?”
Abel looked Russ in the eye. “Because she shouldn’t have had him. Period. Damn it, Wade is our blood and his loyalty should be to us. We should have raised him. Instead she marches in like what Buck did to Wade was our fault and she snatches him out from under our nose. And everybody in the damned town felt sorry for her so they let her do it. And now he thinks he’s hers, not ours.”
“I see.” Russ bit his lip to keep from arguing with the jerk. “Any idea who might have burned down the Pucketts’ chicken house?”
“Absolutely none. And believe me, if I had any idea who’d burned down the Puckett henhouse I’d be the first one to tell you.”
Russ thought a minute. “It’s been eleven years since Buck did what he did and was sent to prison. Any thoughts on why somebody’s waited so long to try to hurt Ms. Baxter? I mean, why after all this time?”
Abel shook his head. “Wouldn’t have a clue.”
Russ thanked Abel for his time and left. The man was a jerk, Russ thought as he drove toward the justice center. He was a jerk and an asshole of the highest order. But probably not involved in the baskets. And that was too bad, seriously too bad. Russ would have loved taking him down a peg or two.
*****
Russ pulled off the farm–to-market road onto the dirt driveway that led to the old ranch house that Molly Baxter still called home. On the other side of Verde from Heaven’s Point, her small but well-run property looked a little rundown but no more so than the Puckett place, and Denton had mentioned more than once that despite being over seventy, his tall, raw-boned mother did most of the work herself. He’d also learned that like most of the ranchers in the area, Molly had worked another job as well, serving as Regional High School’s attendance clerk until her recent retirement. Hopefully he would learn more by talking to Molly this afternoon. Maybe she had some insight on who would be leaving the baskets and why.
Russ parked his cruiser next to an old Taurus and rapped smartly on the front door twice. He was about to decide no one was home when an even older pickup truck came careening across the pasture pulling a trailer with a couple of pretty, just-weaned calves inside. Molly Baxter parked the pickup truck and trailer under a huge shade tree and ambled across the yard. “I’m going to wash up at the outside sink around back. You go on in, deputy,” she said as she wiped her sweaty face with a bandana. “It’s not locked.”
Russ stepped into the shabby ranch house living room that was covered from one end to the other with years’ worth of pictures of the three Baxter siblings and Wade, starting when the Baxter brothers were little and ending with a recent picture of her and Wade. But it was the older pictures that caught Russ’s attention. There were a few pictures of three very young boys with a man who closely resembled Abel and lots of pictures of Denton and Abel and a young man who could only be Buck. Taller than either of his brothers and almost wickedly handsome, Buck was like looking at Wade; his smile was wide and engaging, showing nary a trace of his mean streak. There were pictures of Buck with Wade and Angie and a few of Buck and a tall, blowsy woman holding a little baby.
“That’s Candace, Wade’s real mother,” Molly said as she came through the door from the kitchen. “She was a little flighty but I still liked her. Up until she up and left Buck and Wade, of course.”
Russ sat down on the shabby sofa and powered up the tablet. Molly’s lips tightened as she sat down across from him.
“Is this going to take a long time?” she asked impatiently. “I need to get those two calves to the auction before they close down for the night. So what can I do for you? I assume this has to do with that mess out at Ida’s with Angie’s baskets but I sure wouldn’t have any idea what’s going on with that, in spite of whatever my former daughter-in-law has led you to believe.”
“She hasn’t led me to believe anything,” Russ said. “Surely Denton explained that to you.”
Molly sniffed. “Denton’s going to say whatever you tell him to. Okay, let’s make this quick. I had nothing to do with either of those baskets and I have no idea who might have left that basket on Angie’s porch or who might have burned down the Pucketts’ chicken house or what might have prompted them to do it. Not that I give a damn about Angie or Ida either one. Ida Puckett is as mean as a junkyard dog to her sister-in-law Estelle, and Angie, well, there’s no love lost between that woman and me. She took my grandson away from his blood kin and that was wrong.” She looked Russ in the eye and her nostrils flared a little.
“And you’re still angry about that?” Russ pressed. “As wonderfully as Wade has turned out?”
“Yes, I’m still angry,” Molly snapped. “Deputy, I don’t know about you, but as far as I’m concerned blood ties are everything. That and family loyalty. Kids belong with their blood kin, not some damn stranger who thinks she loves him more.” Her eyes narrowed as Russ studied her angry face. “But I wouldn’t try to destroy her business, deputy. She’s helping Wade pay for college and I wouldn’t interfere with that no matter how pissed I was with her.”
Big of you, Russ thought, grinning inwardly as he asked question after question, deliberately taking up enough of her afternoon so that she would have to take the calves to the auction in the morning. A part of him wondered if she was being honest with him, but try as he might he couldn’t trip her up and he finally decided that she must be telling the truth.
It was an interesting attitude that she and Abel shared, he thought as he headed back to town. The only thing that mattered to them were the blood ties, never mind the love that Angie showered on Wade, the sacrifices she’d made for him and was still making for this son of her heart. Russ thought of his own mother, loving and bringing up Holly as her own, and Holly, who was prepared to do the same for little Carrie. And a part of him couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for narrow-minded Molly and Abel who couldn’t seem to understand that kind of love.
*****
Eagle Boy and Racy held up their mason jars and Pistol Annie filled them to the brim with sweet iced tea. “Damn, this hits the spot,” Eagle Boy said, downing half the jar and holding it up for more. “It was hot out there today.”
Racy nodded. “My car was as hot as a two-dollar pistol when I got in this afternoon.”
“I feel so sorry for you,” Pistol Annie jeered. “At least you work inside. So, here’s to the first of Angie’s customers to go down. Let’s have a toast.”
Eagle Boy and Racy obediently lifted their glasses and drank. “Although it’s my understanding that the coop almost didn’t burn,” Eagle Boy complained. “Ketcham said it was a very amateurish job and that you hadn’t used enough fuel, Annie.”
Pistol Annie shrugged. “I used all there was. Besides, the coop got burned, didn’t it?”
“I still say we shouldn’t have burned the Pucketts’ coop,” Racy complained. “They didn’t deserve that.”
“That’s the whole point,” Eagle Boy told Racy patiently. “We do this to nice people who don’t deserve for something bad to happen to them. If we limit the destruction to the assholes of the community, nobody’s going to care and we get nowhere. Plus, since most of Angie’s customers presumably are nice people, they are going to think that if this nice person gets the shaft for being a customer, they might be next if they shop with Angie. So they stop shopping with her, she loses her business, and we win. Got that?”
Racy shrugged. “I guess so.”
“Okay. Time to deliver the next basket.” Pistol Annie pulled out the three straws and held them out to the other two.
Racy drew the first straw. “Short. My turn. How about tomorrow or the next day?”
*****
“Too soon,” Eagle Boy said. “Fool Angie and her deputy buddy into thinking it was a one-time thing. Besides, you need to assemble a special basket for this one.”
“Works for me,” Annie said. “Lull her into complacency and then hit her with another delivery.” Annie’s eyes narrowed. “But I don’t want to wait too long. The sooner we ruin her the better.”
“Amen to that,” Racy and Eagle boy said in unison. “Amen to that.”
*****
Angie put the last swirl of icing on the freshly baked lemon cake and stepped back to admire her handiwork. Nice, really nice, she thought as she inhaled the aroma of Wade’s favorite comfort food. She had baked the first one of these for him long years ago on the day he was discharged from the hospital and she had baked many since, both for the good times and the bad. And then there were the days, like today, when the cake was a welcome home present. Wade and his roommate and best friend Benny Keller were home for the summer, having snagged jobs on the crew rehabbing the old house on the Adamcik ranch. This summer was bittersweet to Angie, since this would probably be Wade’s last summer to come home to her. A wistful smile crossed Angie’s lips as she thought of the tall, handsome young man who would soon be coming through the front door. Even though she had every intention of mothering at least one more child, Wade was her first and he would always be special.
Angie put the cover over the cake plate and checked the progress of the pot roast in the oven. She was unloading a case of sodas into her back refrigerator when she heard a vehicle pull up and the screen door bang open. “Mom, I’m home,” Wade said. “Did you make me a cake?”
“Is the Pope from South America?” she called back. “Take the duffels straight to the washer and get a load started and then you can start in on the cake.”
Angie squeezed in the last of the sodas and found him in the miniscule laundry room stuffing a definitely aromatic assortment of jeans and T-shirts and dirty socks into the washing machine. He dumped in an unmeasured amount of detergent and hit the on button. “Hey, Mom,” he said as he pulled her into a warm hug. “It’s good to be home.”
He was so tall these days, she thought as she hugged Wade back. So tall and so good-looking and such a fine young man. Oh, she loved this son of hers, she thought as she blinked back tears. “It’s good to have you home,” she said. “You and your laundry and your appetite.”
Wade laughed. “Benny and I ran out of detergent about a week ago and we decided we’d just wait to wash until we got home since we had to pack anyway. Jason and Emily are moving so we decided to give up the duplex and try for a place in that complex down the street.” Wade grinned wolfishly. “I guess you heard about their upcoming visit from a long-legged bird?”
“I may have heard something to that effect,” Angie said. “Her brother mentioned it and then Patsy called me in a bit of a dither to see if it was too late to book me for the wedding makeup. I’m doing both Riley weddings back to back.”
“I was kind of surprised about Holly and Mr. Adamcik,” Wade said, deadpan. “I didn’t know people that age were still doing it.”
Angie rolled her eyes and hoped Wade didn’t notice her blushing. “Come on, I’ll feed you some cake.”
He followed her into her cheerful little kitchen and they were soon making serious inroads in the lemon cake.
“So how is Natalie doing?” Angie asked as Wade cut himself a second piece. “Did she go home for the summer?”
He shrugged. “I think that’s what she was planning. I don’t know for sure if she went or not.”
“Oh, Wade, did you break up with her, too?” Angie asked with equal parts sadness and exasperation. “And she was so nice.”
Wade’s face closed off. “Yes, she was,” he said softly. “Too nice, and I know I hurt her.” He swallowed. “I miss her.”
Angie studied her son’s face for a moment. “Damn it, when are you going to figure out that you’re nothing, nothing like your father?” she demanded. “When are you going to realize that you’re totally different from him?”
“How am I supposed to do that when the bastard stares me in the face every morning while I’m shaving?” Wade asked. “I look at myself and damn it, Mom, I’m practically a replica of the son of a bitch. What if I’m as much like him on the inside as I am on the outside?”
“You’re not,” she said with a stubborn jut to her chin.
“I don’t know that, Mom,” he said tiredly. “I just don’t want to get serious about someone, get married maybe, and then have it turn out like it did for you and me and Buck.”
“Wade, let me repeat myself,” she said. “Buck Baxter wasn’t half the man you’ve turned out to be. Even before things went to hell for us he wasn’t the man you are. And you’re letting what happened do a number on you that it doesn’t have to. Please, Wade. Don’t let what Buck did dictate the terms of the rest of your life.”
“Isn’t that what you’ve done?” Wade asked quietly.
Angie’s head snapped up. “I beg your pardon?” she asked.
“Well, isn’t it?” he persisted. “Mom, you were only twenty-three when you divorced him. You’ve been by yourself now for eleven years, having discreet little relationships I’m not supposed to know about and breaking them off when a man starts to get too close. You fuss at me for not wanting to care about someone, but aren’t you doing the same thing?”
Angie’s eyes widened. “You know about the men?”
Wade smiled his crooked half smile and nodded. “Now what about the other?”
She thought a minute. “Actually, there’s a huge difference in what I’ve done and what you’re doing. I won’t pretend that what happened with your father has had nothing to do with my not wanting to marry again, because obviously I’m influenced by the past. I’ve avoided marriage mainly because I don’t completely trust my judgment when it comes to men and I want the freedom to make a quick exit if the occasion warrants. What I’m not doing is thinking badly of myself because of Buck. You’re letting Buck make you doubt your goodness and decency and you need to stop doing that to yourself. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, Mom, loud and clear.”
“And are you going to give the next nice girl who comes along a chance?”
Wade shrugged. “I’ll think about it.”
Angie sighed and gave up for the time being. She asked him about his finals and his schedule for the fall semester and they spent the afternoon more or less catching up.
Wade was predictably horrified to learn about the baskets and the Pucketts’ chicken coop and less than glad to hear that Russ Riley was handling the case. “Is he still as big a smartass as he was last summer?” he asked as he got out knives and forks for dinner. “Emily says he’s incorrigible.”
“He’s also an experienced criminal investigator,” Angie said, turning her face away so Wade could not see the pink staining her cheeks. “He did finally catch Chucky last fall.” And he’s a great kisser, she thought involuntarily. “Anyway, just so you know and don’t hear it from someone else, Russ and I went out to dinner last week.”
Wade’s eyebrow shot up. “Not your usual type.”
“For a catfish dinner and a little conversation I don’t think I have a type,” Angie said dryly as the doorbell chime pealed through the small house. Saved by the bell, Angie thought as Wade went to answer the door. But her relief at the interruption quickly turned into irritation when she heard Molly Baxter’s gravelly alto in the living room.
Couldn’t Molly have waited until tomorrow to come see Wade? But she was being unfair, she thought as she wiped her hands on a towel and found Wade and Molly in a huge bear hug in the living room. However much she blamed Angie for the events eleven years ago, Molly Baxter loved Wade dearly and had been absolutely devastated when Judge Riley handed Wade over to Angie. The big, raw-boned ranch woman was as generous with Wade as her limited income would allow. As far as the cracks and the sniping went, Molly learned very quickly that Angie gave as good as she got and after a few years of catty exchanges Molly and Angie settled into an uneasy truce for Wade’s sake.
Molly leaned back and looked Wade up and down. “I swear, you look more like the Baxter men every day,” she said with satisfaction.
Ouch. Angie winced internally.
“Have you seen Denton or Abel yet?” Molly asked.
“I only got home a couple of hours ago,” Wade said. “I’ve been doing laundry and catching up with things here. I’ll see them in the next day or so.”
“You be sure you do that,” Molly said. Her smile faded somewhat as she turned to Angie. “How are you?”
Angie inclined her head. “Can’t complain. How are you, Molly?”
“Busy with the ranch like I always am this time of year,” Molly said. She turned back to Wade, her eagerness to visit with him painfully evident. “Barney Keller told me last week that you and Benny landed summer jobs out at the Adamcik ranch. I want to hear all about that.” She glanced into the kitchen and spotted the silverware on the table. “Damn, I caught the two of you sitting down to supper. Why don’t I go on home and you and I can catch up tomorrow?”
Relief warred with good manners and good manners won out. “If you’d like to have dinner with us, I have plenty,” Angie said. “You and Wade could catch up over dinner.”
Wade looked from Molly to Angie. “Yes, please stay, Grandma,” he said with enthusiasm. “We’d love to have you.”
“If you’re sure.”
“Of course we’re sure,” Wade said. He got out an extra set of silverware while Angie dished up the roast and potatoes and dressed the bagged grocery store salad. Soon the three of them were gathered around the dining room table.
Wade as always ignored the undercurrents between Angie and Molly and entertained them both with a semester’s worth of stories from college, ending with the news that Jason and Emily would be marrying the weekend after Holly and Jimmy. “And Mom tells me Mr. Adamcik and Holly moved theirs up for the same reason Jason and Emily did,” he told his grandmother, his eyes dancing with amusement.
Molly shrugged. “It sounds like all three of those Riley kids are wild as March hares,” she said dismissively. “With both girls getting pregnant like that and then the boy getting kicked out of the Army for hanky-panky.”
“Oh, Grandma, Emily’s not wild, she’s just in love, and I’ll bet the same thing’s true of Holly and Mr. Adamcik,” Wade said. “Russ? I don’t know about him. On one hand he can’t tell my mom from my girlfriend, but when that Chucky bastard came after Jason and Emily last fall, I was real glad he was on our side.”
Molly sniffed. “Well, I think he’s a damned fool. He actually questioned Denton and Abel and me after the Puckett chicken coop was burned down. Like he thought I might know something. What did you say to him, Angie that would make him question us like that?”
“Not a damned thing, Molly,” Angie snapped. “And believe me, Russ was not happy with me for not telling him about the past. I thought it had no bearing on the case and told him so.”
“Sorry,” Molly said. “But I still don’t think he had any business questioning us.”
Angie shrugged, but inside she couldn’t help but feel that Molly’s past behavior certainly warranted Russ’s questioning Abel, too.
“Grandma, would you like a piece of cake?” Wade asked quickly. Good going, Wade, Angie thought as Molly nodded. Already having eaten her fill of the cake, Angie cleared the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen while Wade and Molly polished off their cake and drank another glass of iced tea.
Angie listened with half an ear as Molly told Wade about some of the improvements she was planning for the ranch. “I’m hoping to fix up the house a little and put in a new hay shed,” Molly volunteered. “The old one’s the old family dogtrot cabin and is about to fall down. Your granddad’s grandparents built it when they bought the farm in the 1870s which would make it a hundred thirty years old at least.”
“Are you sure you want to tear it down, Grandma? Wouldn’t it have some kind of historical value or something?” Wade asked.
Molly laughed softly. “Only to the Baxters, Wade, and in all honesty not that much even to us. But it’s sweet of you to think that.” Angie could feel Molly glance in her direction and she stiffened.
“But you are a Baxter, Wade, by blood and by loyalty, and some day at least part of that ranch and the heritage that it represents will be yours. Just be sure in the meantime you don’t forget who your family really is.”
Damn her anyway, Angie thought as she slammed down a pot on the kitchen counter. “That’s right, Molly,” Angie snapped. “Let’s not forget who Wade’s mother really is and who had the bruises all over her to prove it.”
Molly’s lips thinned. “Well, you have the boy so brainwashed he thinks he’s yours. Half the time he doesn’t know whose son he really is.”
Wade’s eyes narrowed as he looked at his grandmother. “Actually, Grandma, I am well aware of whose son I really am. And while I love you and my uncles to pieces, as far as I’m concerned Angie is my mother, my real mother, and I would appreciate your remembering that.”