It had been years since Tara had felt so scared. Even seeing the gun pointed at her at the shop hadn’t brought her to her knees the way being alone in her apartment was making her feel now.
There was a time after Doug had died that she had been afraid of everything. Her world had been rocked. She’d been angry and grieving. At the shop today, she had been numb. It wasn’t until she’d seen Brody and Hunter standing there, that she realized what was actually happening.
But now that numbness was gone. And she was alone.
A tear trickled down her cheek and she quickly swept it away. She went through her apartment and turned on all the lights. If she had to sleep on the sofa with the light on, she would. Something told her she wasn’t going to get any sleep at all.
Her heart beat strong in her chest. Even putting her hand over her chest couldn’t calm it.
“You are insane, Tara. You’ve been living here for five years and have never been afraid to be alone.”
She heard a loud crash in the kitchen and bolted to a stand. She didn’t want to go in there. But she knew in her mind that it was only Dexter. Her cat had a habit of knocking things off the counter onto the floor when Tara ignored her when she got home.
She slowly walked to the kitchen and peeked inside. Then she laughed when she saw Dexter standing by a nearly empty food dish and an empty water bowl. The can of tuna fish she’d left on the counter was nearby on its side. Dexter gave a very loud meow in protest.
“You can’t scare me like that,” she said reaching down and scooping him up from the floor. When she felt lonely, Dexter usually made her feel better. But tonight her faithful cat did not have the same effect at calming her nerves.
Tara put the cat back down on the floor and busied herself for a few minutes by filling the water bowl and adding dry food to the cat’s dish. As soon as she set both bowls back in place, Dexter ignored her.
She should be hungry, but she wasn’t. Making dinner would probably kill at least thirty minutes of time and keep her mind off her nerves.
Or she could bake a cake. She’d purchased some frozen huckleberries at the grocery store the other day. Of course, then she’d have to eat the cake. And it probably wouldn’t come out as good as Norma’s delicious pastry goods.
She gasped, as she thought of Norma. She probably heard of what happened at the shop today, but in her fear and in the day’s events, Tara had somehow forgotten to call her to let her know that she wasn’t opening the shop in the morning. It might be several days before she could open her shop again given the damage that had occurred.
She rushed into the living room and grabbed her purse. Then she pulled out her cell phone. Norma’s telephone number was on speed dial so she quickly dialed and waited for Norma to pick up.
“I was wondering when you were going to call,” Norma said. “I didn’t know if you were home from the police station yet.”
“I’ve been home for about an hour,” Tara said, nervously flipping a strand of hair behind her ear and looking around the living room at everything and nothing at the same time. “Sorry, I forgot to call you.”
“News travels fast. Of course, I heard about what happened to you, you poor thing. Are you okay?”
“Oh, you know me,” she said, lying through her teeth. “I’m fine. But I am staying closed tomorrow. Probably for the rest of the week. I’m not sure if the police are going to need to come back and do any type of forensics like they did the last time.”
It was another lie. Caleb and the other officers had already done an exhaustive investigation. Caleb had said they wanted to make sure their case against Ox, who was the man who broke in, was ironclad.
It would be impossible to open the store tomorrow. But now that Tara was home and feeling so isolated, she wondered if that had been a bad decision. At least at the shop, there would be activity just outside her door and inside as people came into town.
“I thought as much,” Norma said. “Don’t you worry about a thing. Just let me know when you need me to start up again, and I’ll be over first thing in the morning with the goodies.”
Guilt stabbed at Tara. This was lost money for Norma. And Tara knew just how much. Her voice quivered as she answered, “Thank you, Norma. It will only be a few days. I want to make sure we cleanup when the police are finished, and I’m going to see about getting a better security system.”
“That sounds like a good plan. Call me if you need anything.”
“I will.”
Tara disconnected the call and then sat down on the sofa. She could get up and start cooking. Or baking. She’d planned to do as much before she’d rushed to call Norma. But what would that do? She’d still be alone.
* * *
“No way,” Brody said, standing in the doorway of the bunkhouse, and watching as the boys set up a table in the middle of the room.
“Ah, come on. Levon used to play poker with us all the time. It’s no big deal. Even Trip joins in sometimes,” Dusty said.
“I heard. He lost his shirt, or so he said.”
Dusty laughed as he put a few frosty beer bottles on the table. “That’s not my fault.”
“Of course not. Call Trip. See if he’s interested. I’m turning in for the night. My back hurts.”
“It’s only eight o’clock!” Buck said, spreading his arms out wide as if he was shocked by the notion.
“I need to get to that fencing on the south side of the ranch tomorrow. You do, too. The sooner that gets repaired, the sooner we stop having to search for stray cattle every night.”
“At least stay for a beer,” Dusty said, reaching for one of the bottles on the table.
“No, thank you. But much appreciated.”
Dusty made a comical face as if he was crazy. Brody would love to grab one of those long necks, sit back on the porch in a comfortable chair and look up at the sky. He’d missed doing that. But the terms of his parole were that he could not be caught drinking alcohol at all or risk being hauled back to prison.
That wasn’t going to happen. He had the date on the calendar when he was finished with his parole. On that day, he’d sit on the porch with a cold beer with some friends and look up at the sky. Until then, he wasn’t risking it.
He left the bunkhouse to the sound of laughter as the boys got themselves settled at the card table. Brody occasionally liked a game of cards, but not tonight. His back was aching. He’d gone to the clinic to make sure they’d gotten all the shards of glass that had cut him out of his skin. He’d gone alone and left Tara back at the store to talk with the police officers. When he called the store after he’d left the clinic, he’d gotten the store’s voice mail. She’d left.
He had to keep himself from getting in his truck and riding over to Sweet Sensations, although he wasn’t exactly sure what help that would be. Tara wasn’t there. She was home. He didn’t have her address and he didn’t have her cell phone number. There was no way for him to check on her except in his mind where he tried to convince himself she was safe and a crazy drug dealer didn’t have a gun pointed at her anymore.
He walked the short path from the bunkhouse to his house, still marveling in the notion that he had a home again. It wasn’t a temporary place in a seedy part of town because it was the only place that would rent to him given his criminal record. This was a home. And Tara had been trying to help him put his own stamp on it.
When Hunter had first approached him about working as a ranch manager at the Lone Creek, he thought Hunter had lost his mind. Now he knew he’d be indebted to Hunter for the rest of his life. So much of the past he’d tried to flake off of his back these last years without success was finally shedding away.
He listened to the sound of the animals in the barn and in the pasture. He loved being here. It had been almost instantaneous the day he’d moved in. With each night he spent sleeping in his bed, listening to the sounds of the ranch, he actually believed he was here to stay.
There was only one thing missing from his life. Tara.
He’d just stepped up on the porch when his cell phone vibrated in his back pocket. He pulled it out and looked at the caller ID. He didn’t recognize the number. He half thought of letting it go to voice mail. But he didn’t know who it was, and if it had anything at all to do with his parole, he could be in trouble by not taking the call. So he answered it.
“Brody?”
The sound of Tara’s voice turned his blood cold.
“What’s wrong? What happened?”
“I…I need…” She started crying and talking fast and he found it hard to understand more than a few words of what she was saying. Dexter? Who was that?
“Where are you, Tara?” he asked, trying to remain calm so she wouldn’t get more upset.
“I’m home.”
“Is someone with you?”
“No!”
The fear he’d felt when hearing her voice deflated like a balloon. “Good. What’s wrong?”
“I don’t want to be alone. Can you come over?”