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Grady climbed into Cecily’s SUV, balancing his duffle on his lap as the vehicle bounced along the rutted dirt road. The sharp edges of the metal box dug into his thigh, reassuring him he might stand a chance of getting out of this mess. As long as he had a bargaining chip, he should be okay, right?
Cecily’s chatter as she drove faded into background noise. She’d stop, point to something. He’d nod. Drive some more. Stop. Point. This less-than-a-mile ride was taking longer than the drive all the way from the courthouse.
On the upside, she was hot, with her shiny reddish-brown hair, big brown eyes, and full, shiny lips. Tall, too. He was five-ten, and she was nearly his height—although she had on those high-heeled cowboy boots. Fancy boots with red, white, and blue stars? Red and white shirt with snaps instead of buttons? Give him a break. Did people wear those? He remembered the cowboys at the lunch table. Guess so.
He’d gone along with Heather, the social worker, when she’d taken him shopping for ranch supplies. Fine. Clothes were clothes. The hat was kind of cool, though. He bit back a smile. Besides, who’d recognize him in cowboy duds? Duds. That was a cowboy word, wasn’t it?
Cecily had stopped again, pointing off in the distance. “Those are some of our cattle. The brown ones with white faces are Herefords. The black ones are Angus. We’ve got twelve pastures and we move the cattle from one to the other, which lets the grass grow back.”
He stared at the dots of brown and black along the hillside. She saw cows, he saw steaks and hamburgers. He’d never thought about where the meat came from. Did they slaughter and butcher the cows here? Would he have to do stuff like that? He suppressed a shudder. That was going too far.
“Here we are.” She stopped the SUV in front of an oblong wooden building with a porch extending along about a third of the length. “I fixed a room for you yesterday. Nothing fancy, but you won’t be here for much more than sleeping.”
He got out of the SUV and slung his bag over his shoulder. Cecily opened the door and waved him inside. Derek had said something about this being converted from a cowboy bunk house, and the inside seemed newer than the outside. He sniffed. Smelled like lemon and pine.
Inside the door was a section of tiled floor. The rest of the floor was polished wood, scattered with a bunch of little rugs, like different shaped and colored stepping stones. Castoffs from somewhere else, he figured. Four large windows on the front and rear walls filled the room with light. He followed Cecily as she gave him what she called her nickel tour.
She indicated a row of pegs on the wall next to the door. “Outerwear goes here. If you’ve been working, boots come off unless you want to spend your free time cleaning the manure and mud off the floors.” She showed him a strange wooden plaque on the wall, about eighteen inches high and four or five wide. Prongs of wire, like two-tined forks, stuck out along its length. Three of them, and two wooden pegs below. “Your Stetson goes in here. Slide it in crown down. Always. Otherwise you’ll ruin the brim.”
There was a lot to learn about this cowboy crap, but he wanted her gone. How hard was it to figure out where the bathroom, bedroom, and kitchen were? Especially the bathroom.
“You can get with Tanya to stock some basics for early breakfasts and suppers,” Cecily went on.
Tanya. She was hot, too. And not as old as Cecily. Seemed nice enough, unlike Bryce, who was supposed to be Grady’s boss. Well, nothing said they had to like each other.
What was with the guy’s hair? A blond ponytail reached past his shoulders, with different colored rubber bands every couple inches. Like one of those poisonous snakes in the zoo. Or, considering the way Bryce ran his fingers from one band to the other, like playing a guitar.
No, Grady would rather think about Tanya. Did she have a guy? Maybe she’d be a side benefit of this stupid program he was supposed to be thankful for. He pictured himself introducing Tanya to his mom. That would be worth it to see her reaction to him having a girlfriend with dark skin. You know I have nothing against them as long as they stick to their own kind, she’d have said.
Yeah, right. Well, no way was he ever going back to Wisconsin. Home? As if. Back to the place where she and the man she had her claws into this time lived was more like it. Not a home.
“You have a cell phone?”
Cecily’s voice brought him back to reality. He shook his head. Not one that belonged to him. Or worked, for that matter. Besides, he was trying not to be found. Enrique and Xiang would never think to search for him way out here. Once again he cursed falling for their false friendship, taking what they’d offered like a junkie desperate for his next fix.
Cecily gestured to the wall. “Phone’s in here. Land line. Number for the house and Derek’s cell are on the board.” He noted the small whiteboard next to the phone with the two numbers in red marker.
“Let’s check out the rest,” she said. Her boots clomped against the floor, alternating with quiet as she crossed the rugs. At the other end of the space was a hallway with three doors on each side. “Bathrooms are in the middle.” She opened the center door on the right. He peered inside. Nothing fancy. Seeing the fixtures made him all the more aware of his need to use one of them.
“Got it,” he said. “I can manage.”
“You sure?” she asked, as if living in a house was a new experience.
He hadn’t grown up on the streets. Hell, if she knew where he’d grown up, she’d never have picked him for her little save the urchins project.
“Yup.” Another cowboy word. “I’ll be at the barn on time.”
She paused, and he tried not to squirm under her stare, as if she was waiting for something. His life story, he bet. “Um ... thanks.” He held out a hand.
Her handshake was firm, her hands were warm. “You follow the road to the house. Should take you about fifteen minutes.”
“I’ll be there. Should I wear the hat?”
She grinned. “You bet. Boots, too. Don’t forget the gloves. Heather did outfit you, right?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. Almost as an afterthought, he added, “What about keys?”
She laughed. “Out here? Nobody locks doors.”
Great. Would she, or Derek, or that Bryce guy come snooping?
He thought of the box in his duffle. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. Where could he put it where it wouldn’t be found?