Chapter 10

Julie huffed up the hill toward the gazebo in the predawn darkness. It had turned into winter overnight and she’d had to exchange her jeans jacket for Wes’s orange plaid quilted coat. The sleeves were rolled up twice and the work gloves she’d found in the pockets swallowed her stiff fingers. But the pièce de résistance was the wool cap with ear flaps that she’d laughingly put on in the hallway and was now glad she’d overcome her fashion scruples to wear outside.

Smitty ran back and forth across her path, nose to the ground. He picked up a stick and brought it to her only to snatch it away again. Then he dropped it on the ground and trotted over to the juniper bush and lifted his leg. Steam rose into the cold air.

Smitty might think this was a lark, but for Julie, the novelty of getting up at dawn was beginning to pale. Not to mention that she was nervous as hell.

With Maude in Plattsburgh, she was flying solo, so to speak. But she’d done her homework and she was as ready as she’d ever be.

“You stay out here and behave,” she told Smitty as she opened the mesh fence. “After I feed them, I’ll let them roam free, uh, free range, or whatever.” Not that anyone, even a chicken, in their right mind would want to spend too much time out in this weather.

As she walked up the ramp, she had a horrible image of finding twenty flash-frozen chicken carcasses inside the gazebo. Wes hadn’t mentioned heating. “Shit,” she said and quickly opened the door to the gazebo, getting a whiff of godawful odor.

Fifteen hungry and very alive chickens surrounded her. It was warm inside, and for the first time, she noticed the quiet whirr of the generator that ran the heater.

Thank God, she thought as the chickens waddled down the ramp. Within seconds, she was the only occupant of the fetid space. She quickly gathered the eggs. Only four today. Which was fine with Julie. She couldn’t eat eggs every morning; too much cholesterol.

She followed the chickens out, broke the film of ice on the water dispensers and refilled them with fresh water. Checked the feeders and got a pan of scratch out of the shed.

As she broadcast the kernels of corn and grains, she conjured up Wes’s list of names and descriptions of each bird. The roosters were easy. There were only two. Ulysses, a giant leghorn, and Bill, a small red bantam. The females were more difficult. She knew Ernestine, but it would take a few days before she could distinguish the rest. A lot of them looked the same.

Smitty watched obediently from the other side of the fence, panting clouds of vapor into the air, while the sun gradually rose above the foothills behind him, leaving an aureole of gold around his coat.

Gold, thought Julie. What am I doing feeding chickens when I should be looking for gold ... for my inheritance?

She looked past the clearing and into the woods. Thought about treasure and hiding places. Which made her think of Cas’s riddle. Which made her think of making love to Cas.

They’d gone at each other twice in the three days she’d been here. Normal people would have taken things slower, gotten to know each other. But not her and Cas. They just banged away like there was no tomorrow.

And for them there probably wasn’t. Not here anyway.

A sudden shriek brought her back to the present. Ulysses was flapping at a speckled hen and pushing her away from the feeder.

“Hey, stop that,” cried Julie and hurried over to intercede. “That’s not polite, you beast. Ladies first.” Ulysses spread his wings to their full span and spit at her before turning his attention back to the hen. Julie jumped between them and quickly lifted the hen out of range. She looked her over and said, “Mamie, right?” The hen cocked her little chicken head and Julie smiled, then realized she was holding a chicken. She hurriedly set her down at another feeder.

“Wow. I just picked Mamie up and survived. Am I a natural or what?” She turned back to Ulysses and pointed her finger at him. “Don’t mess with me.”

Ulysses strutted past her without a look and resumed his inspection of the feeding troughs.

Julie turned to see Smitty watching her. “Okay, so I’m talking to a rooster. I talk to you, don’t I? Big deal.” She walked over to the fence. “If I let these chickens into the yard, you better mind your manners—no chasing, no herding, no eating. Got it?”

Smitty thumped his tail.

“Good.” Julie opened the gate. A little bantam hen, Hilary, hopped past her and high-stepped straight for Smitty.

“Stay,” Julie warned him. Then her mouth fell open as Hillary rose in a flurry of wing feathers and settled onto his back. Smitty didn’t move, but looked at Julie with such a surprised expression that she laughed out loud.

“That is so cute,” she said. “Don’t scare her.”

Several other chickens cautiously followed Hillary out of the pen. Most just continued to feed, while Ulysses marched up and down the rows, and Bill perched above them observing the proceedings.

Julie took the eggs to the house, poured herself a cup of coffee and returned to the porch steps. She was supposed to let them out twice a day, and she couldn’t in good conscience leave them to face the elements alone. There were predators out there.

So she sat on the steps and watched Smitty and Hillary bond. Soon, Bill hopped down from his perch and wandered outside. Julie felt a peck at her boot and looked down. Ernestine rolled in the dirt at her feet. Then she hopped up the steps, cocked her head at Julie and jumped into her lap.

Julie froze. Ernestine puffed out her feathers until her head disappeared and she began to purr. Julie began to absently stroke Ernestine’s neck. It was amazingly comforting to have a chicken in your lap—as long as she didn’t leave any steaming presents behind when she left.

Don’t even think about getting attached, Julie warned herself.

“What am I going to do with you guys, Ernie? I can’t really keep you. I have to get a job and I don’t think it’s going to be raising layers. I’ll have to move to a larger town and hope I can get a good reference from the NYPD. I may have really fucked up by leaving. But there it is. Never let people make you feel small, Ernie.”

Ernestine cooed; Julie continued to stroke her head. Out in the clearing, Bill joined Hillary on Smitty’s back. The sun rose into another clear day, and Julie’s coffee grew cold as she sat on the steps and felt contented.

 

Cas awoke to shining sun and for a moment he thought he was on the water with Julie beside him, the light sparkling off the crests of the waves. But he was alone. And the light was glinting off the dresser mirror.

He rolled over and grunted. His eye hurt, his whole face hurt and his back and a few other parts. Then he remembered why. A fight at the Roadhouse. Julie had decked him in front of half the men in town last night. Of course, she’d more than made up for it later. But he was going to have to take more ribbing from the bar’s regulars. Well, he thought philosophically. At least it will take their minds off chicken thieves.

But he was wrong.

When he walked into the police station twenty minutes later, Lou and Edith were both sitting behind the dispatcher’s desk, their blue-curled heads bent over a magazine. Simultaneously, they looked up. Simultaneously, their eyes widened and their mouths opened. Then without a word, they tilted their heads toward the bench that sat along the front wall, their curls moving like identical cotton candy.

Cas slowly turned his head toward the bench where Henry Goethe and Elton Dinwiddie sat with their hats in their hands, scowling at the brims. They stood up and Cas’s stomach sank.

“No more robberies, I hope,” said Cas as he stepped toward them.

“Not yet,” said Henry in a gravely voice. “But Elton and I got to thinking that maybe there’s a ring of thieves in this town.”

“Chickens and electronics?” asked Cas.

“You got a better explanation?” asked Elton.

Cas considered the possibility as he watched Elton’s cheek work on a plug of tobacco. Do not spit on my floor, Cas thought and asked them if they’d like coffee.

“We’d like our property back,” said Elton, getting ready to spit. Cas nudged the wastepaper basket toward him.

“And we want to know what you’re doing about it,” said Henry, taking up the demand while Elton hacked into the trash can.

Fortunately, Cas was distracted by Edith, who handed him a mug of steaming black coffee. “Thanks,” he said and turned back to the two men.

Elton wiped the sleeve of his jacket across his mouth. “We don’t want to make life difficult for you. We know you just took this job ’cause Wes Excelsior conned you into helping Hank out, but dammit, Cas, something needs to be done.”

“I realize that,” said Cas.

“We’re not blaming you, mind, but we got to talking and thought maybe you could use some deputies.”

Cas looked at the two men. Elton was pushing eighty, Henry had a bum knee and walked with a cane. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m just a stand-in. I don’t think I should be appointing any deputies. You’d better go ask Hank what he thinks.”

“Tried that,” said Elton, already taking aim at the trash can again.

Cas looked away and concentrated on his coffee.

“Thelma wouldn’t let us talk to him. That darn woman. Too damn protective by half.”

Henry nodded. “We’re not saying we don’t think you’re doing an okay job, just that these robberies have to stop.”

“I agree,” said Cas, wondering how he could get them out of the station. “That’s why I brought in the county.” Except the county sheriff, who’d been on the football team with Cas at Excelsior Falls High, had just wheezed over the phone and said, “Cas, you sucker. I’ll be surprised if Hank ever comes back to work. Thelma’s been trying to get him to retire for years. She wants to move to Florida.” Then he relented. “I’ll send someone over to take a look.”

He had and they hadn’t found a damn clue.

Henry pushed himself to his feet. “Well, if you change your mind, Elton and I are available and so are some of the other men in town.”

Elton spit into the wastepaper basket and stood up. “We could set up a neighborhood watch.”

“I’ll think about it.” Cas ushered them toward the door and held it open for them.

“So Julie Excelsior’s back, huh,” asked Henry, his eyes twinkling as he took in Cas’s black eye.

“News travels fast,” said Cas, opening the door wider.

“Heard she’s got a wicked right hook,” said Elton and went out the door to spit on the sidewalk.

Henry pushed his hat back on his head and nodded at Cas. Then went out the door, chuckling to himself.

“So it’s true,” said Edith as soon as the door shut behind them. “Julie Excelsior is staying at Excelsior House.”

“And she did that,” said Lou, pointing to Cas’s face.

“It was an accident.”

“Good thing she wasn’t aiming at you,” said Edith and exchanged a wink with her sister.

Cas took his coffee over to his desk and sat down. “Why are you both here?”

“I was just leaving,” said Edith and picked up her black clutch purse from the desk. “I have a hair appointment at ten.” She paused by the front door. “Do you have a date for the Candy Apple Dance Friday night?”

Cas looked up from a stack of forms that he had yet to fill out. “Are you asking me?” He grinned at her.

Edith tittered. “I’m already going with Ed Schott. But I know his daughter, Isabelle, is planning to be there.”

Cas managed to bite back a groan. “I’ll be there in my official capacity.”

“She’s a pretty girl. Prettier than the other two that have been chasing you from one end of town to the other.”

Cas cracked his neck and felt pain shoot down his shoulder.

“Edith,” said her sister. “You leave the sheriff alone. He’s a busy man.”

“I’m just saying,” said Edith and left the station.

“Thanks, Lou.”

Lou shook her head. “She’s just angling to get Ed to ask her to marry him. But he won’t do that until he gets Isabelle settled.”

“Well, she’s not settling with me.”

“No. She’s too straight-laced for you.”

“Lou,” said Cas. “What makes you think I’m not straight-laced?”

Lou smiled the same smile that Edith had given him. “How long have I lived in this town? Sixty years now?”

Try seventy-one, thought Cas, but decided not to mention it.

“There was a time when we thought the Excelsior-Reynolds feud might come to an end.”

“Yeah,” said Cas. “Well, it didn’t.” He picked up a pen and started filling out forms. He heard Lou sigh, then the rustle of paper as she opened her magazine.

“It’s not too late. You can look forward to some licks of love around the end of the month.”

Cas raised an eyebrow at her.

“It says so right here.” Lou lifted her magazine for him to see. The front cover read, Ten Ways to Make Him Beg for More. “I wonder if Julie Excelsior will be there,” said Lou and turned the page.

 

When the chickens were back in the gazebo, Julie dressed and went to Henryville. She bought groceries and drove over to the real estate office. But she didn’t go in.

“I know,” she told Smitty as she unpacked the groceries. “I said we’d only be here a week. I lied.” She needed to find Wes’s money before she let people start traipsing all over the place. And she needed to get the house in better condition before putting it on the market.

Smitty looked up at her.

“Let me get out of these clothes and we’ll take a walk.” Fifteen minutes later, she was dressed in jeans and Wes’s coat and hat. She looked into the parlor where Smitty was sleeping on the hearth rug.

“Come on, boy. We’re going on a treasure hunt.”

They struck off down the driveway toward the pond. A layer of rime covered the surface; sticks and leaves were captured in the ice. Julie picked up a flat stone and tried to skip it across the ice. It broke through and sank.

“Lost my touch,” said Julie. Once she’d made a rock skip eight times. It was a record and Wes took Cas and her down Route 28 to the A & W for hot dogs and root beer floats. He had a—green pickup truck. She pushed at the ice with the toe of her boot. Cas was driving Wes’s old pickup.

They walked the perimeter of the pond, looked into nooks and crannies, all their old hiding places, and found nothing. Smitty ran ahead and once she found him digging. But when she rushed to see what he’d found, it was only a chipmunk’s hole.

They criss-crossed back toward the house, stopped in the shed where Julie moved supplies, looking for a hiding place. And found nothing.

They walked to the far side of the cleared area and into the orchard. The trees seemed more gnarled than before. Several branches had broken off and lay on the ground. She walked down the rows of trees, looking for a scrap of yellow paper. And found nothing.

Keeping an ear out for hunters, Julie entered the woods. She had heard the report of distant shots ever since her first day back, but none were close enough to make her worry about poachers.

The woods accounted for fifteen of the twenty acres. It was old and overgrown and easy to get lost, and their games never penetrated too far from the clearing.

But there had been a path that led through the woods. She climbed over a fallen log, pushed a low hanging branch out of the way and pressed on. It was much colder without the sun to warm the air. The ground was still saturated from the recent rain, and Julie slipped on wet leaves as she searched for the path.

At last she found it, marked by two large chunks of granite, partially hidden by leaves that had recently been trampled. Julie knelt and peered at the area.

Smitty lifted his nose to the wind.

“Yep. Someone’s been here and I bet it was our thief. And they were riding a motorcycle.” She just hoped it wasn’t Henley or Bo.

Smitty took off, leapt over a mass of leafless blackberry brambles and disappeared into the underbrush. Julie was about to follow him, when a squirrel shot out from the bushes, ran over Julie’s feet, and was gone. Smitty came loping toward her, head and tail held high.

“Very brave of you,” said Julie and started down the path. Smitty fell in step beside her. She leaned over and began to search the ground; Smitty snuffled through the leaves. After a minute she stopped in front of an old tree stump. Was this the one they had used as a hiding place? She brushed leaves aside and found the tips of two stones they had covered with dirt to mark the place. This was it.

She knelt down and touched the stump; the wood fell away in slivers, disturbing a colony of insects. Julie sighed and stood up. Nothing but a bunch of termites. On to number two.

But none of the rocks, fissures, or old trees that had once held their secrets yielded anything but a few scraped knuckles.

They followed the path until they came to a glade deep within the woods. A huge boulder rose out of the forest floor. At least it used to be huge. Today it looked like a big rock. A ray of sun filtered through the trees and lit the surface.

She’d spent a lot of Saturdays on this boulder: tied up as a captive cowgirl, a captive robber, a captive princess.

She found a handhold and climbed up the face. Twice her feet slid on loose dirt and she was out of breath when she reached the top. Smitty was already there waiting for her.

“I used to be better at this,” she told him, brushing off her hands. “And anyway, you cheated. The back way’s for sissies.” She sat down at the top, crossed her legs, and lifted her face to the warmth of the sun.

While Smitty stood guard, Julie’s mind drifted into the past. Wes always had an adventure planned; he’d take them fishing or shooting or send them on treasure hunts. On warm sunny days, they’d lay in the grass and count the clouds, while Cass told them about the model ship he was building and where he would sail if it were real.

Or she and Cas would explore the woods and play. Invariably they would end up here, playing cowboys and Indians, cops and robbers, or pirates and captive Princess, Julie tied up and Cas tickling her and sneaking peeks at her underwear. There was something a little kinky about all that bondage. She didn’t realize it at the time. And hadn’t thought about it since.

Well, she’d thought about it. But not that much. It was all innocent. Sort of. Until that stupid day on the river. Maybe, she and Cas were a little old to be playing make-believe, but she hadn’t realized it until Reynolds yanked the bandanna from Cas’s head and gave her a look of such contempt that her insides burned.

And there she stood with a tablecloth tied around her shoulders and she felt stupid and small and guilty. It was awful and humiliating then. Now it just seemed ridiculous. She’d felt betrayed when Cas let Reynolds take him away. Then the jokes started at school, and Cas had ignored her, let her face their taunts alone. That was what really hurt. Julie felt her lip tremble. “Actually, it still hurts.”

She felt better now that she’d said it out loud, something she had never done before. She felt better, but she wasn’t quite ready to forgive.