15

 

Their second Scrabble game proceeded at a slow pace. Creighton chalked it up to the gray day, or maybe the aroma of cooked chicken that drifted through the house, numbed their minds. The broth cooled in the refrigerator and the chicken waited on the counter for de-boning.

“How close are the points?”

Shana’s question brought him back to the game instead of his taste buds.

“I’m two ahead.” He’d been more tuned in to the country singer’s voice as it floated from the stereo speakers, than the score pad.

“Not any more, big boy.” She picked up all of her letter tiles to spell the word C-A-R-R-I-A-G-E, making use of the E at the end of his last play. Shana did a little dance. She pointed her fingers above her head to accent her jig. “Fifty points. Give me fifty extra points.”

Creighton frowned. He scowled at the tiles on his rack.

She sank back into the sofa cushions and leaned against a giant brown pillow. “What’s wrong, Creigh?” Shana asked softly.

“Maybe we can finish this later.” He turned the strip of wood so she could see his letters as he set the rack on the coffee table. The letters M-I-S were grouped together on the rack, separate from the other four letter tiles.

She looked at him, puzzled.

“I was listening to that song about work being done on Earth, and it reminded me of a friend’s funeral. Then I thought of Rita possibly losing the baby.” He rubbed his scalp with the fingers of one hand. “Then you spelled your word carriage, and I added the prefix ‘mis’.”

Shana slid across the center cushion, careful not to jar the game pieces out of their places on the board, and sat next to him.

He gathered her close, rested his chin against her soft curls, and stared into the flickering golden flames of the fireplace. “That near disaster with Rita’s baby made me realize how precious life is. Now that you’ve recognized how God is part of our lives, let’s live like He wants us to, and get to know one another.”

“Sounds good to me,” she agreed and snuggled closer against his side.

Time didn’t exist for a long while. Eventually, Creighton cocked his head towards the sound of the wind as it played a musical tune around the corners of the house.

“Sounds like a night for chicken and dumplings.” He slid his arm from around her shoulder and reached down to clasp her hand. “Wanna help?”

“Didn’t you say the dumplings came from the grocery freezer?”

Creighton nodded.

“Then, I guess I can open the bag and pour them into the pot.”

“You disappoint me, woman.” He squeezed her fingers while swinging their clasped hands. “I figured you’d like to get all greasy and pull the meat from the chicken bones.”

Shana screwed up her nose.

“OK, you win. I’ll de-bone and the salad is your job.” He washed his hands thoroughly and handed the towel to Shana after she rinsed the soap from her own. Then he grabbed a narrow-edged crockery bowl and attacked a rich brown leg. The meat cleared the bone in one swipe.

They worked without words, his movements smooth and methodical as he separated and tore, hers jerky and noisy as she rinsed, chopped, and sliced pieces of every fresh veggie available.

“Hand me a paper towel, please, and then run the water hot so I can get this stuff off.”

“Yuck,” Shana reacted to his messy fingers before she ripped off a piece of toweling.

“Don’t knock it. I won’t have to use hand lotion before bed.”

It was Shana’s turn to laugh. “What’s next?”

“Hand me the salad.” He slipped the covered bowl into the fridge and lifted out the pot of broth. Setting it on the stove, he opened the lid. “I’ll just skim off this little bit of fat, and then wait for it to boil. Last, I’ll add the dumplings.”

She leaned against the counter while he worked.

Creighton straightened from setting the table. “Should be done in just a few minutes.”

“I can hardly wait,” Shana answered.

“I heard that rumbling belly of yours.”

They shared a look.

He soon dished up the savory comfort food, and at the table, took both her hands. “Would you mind saying the prayer? I’m feeling a little shaky, thinking about Rita’s baby.”

 

****

 

Could she do this? She tightened her fingers against his callused palms. He made her feel safe and secure.

“I’m not sure how or where to begin.” She almost prayed for courage. On a shaky breath, she began. “Lord God, Jesus, I have a lifetime of things to thank You for. Right now, I thank You for the opportunity to be here on this ranch. Thank You for the landscape that I have learned to love. I thank You for this food, and especially for Creighton. Amen.”

Shana sighed over the first mouthful of doughy dumpling. Then she moaned in appreciation at the burst of flavor from a piece of tender chicken. “You’d make someone a good wife,” she teased.

“Nah. A good wife is described in Proverbs thirty-one. Besides, I lack clothes of scarlet, linen, and purple.”

“Really? Something like that’s described in the Bible?”

“Oh, yeah. The whole book of Proverbs has lots of guidelines for living that continue through the ages.”

Shana rested her soup spoon against the side of her bowl. “I have so much to learn, Creighton.”

He smiled in agreement. “Takes a lifetime. For all of us.”

A play of emotions struck his face. Was it guilt that remained from his past, or some imagined shortcoming? The frown line dissipated, but the shadow remained, blending the outer rim of blue into the darker hazel of his eyes. He seemed to have forgotten her presence.

Creighton jumped and caught the phone on its third ring. “Yeah.” A pause. “Guess I didn’t give it a thought, I was just so relieved that they’re both fine.” He scrubbed a hand over his hair until tufts stood up. His gaze rose to the ceiling. “Come, on. You know I would have called if anything happened!” His eyes squinted, and he clenched his jaw. “Sure. You bet.” He hung up and glanced her way. “Thomas, my brother.” At the table, he just looked at the dumplings in his bowl.

Shana crossed to his side and smoothed the hair that he had tousled. He leaned his head back against her mid-section, and then took her left hand.

“He talked to Rita, and when she went over the threat of losing the baby, he blamed me for not letting him know.” He shot to his feet. “I’m lousy company, let me walk you back.” He growled.

“I can help clean up,” Shana protested.

“Thanks, but I can only handle one problem at a time.”

“Hold it, buster. So you’re saying I’m a problem, now?”

“More like a distraction.” A grin slid across his face.

She could handle that. A distraction was better than a problem any day.

Their brief banter receded and reality struck on their walk to her cabin. She thumped her fist against her thigh, in accompaniment to the soft night sounds. Shana mentally counted the short days until she returned to Lincoln and planned how she would spend each one. She’d work and she’d play. And she’d savor life. But reality intruded on her idyllic dreams. Shana’s jaw tightened. “It’s so peaceful here, Creigh, like another world. Not my real world. I’ve always been able to fix things, to look at a situation from all angles and come to a workable solution. But how do I replace years of work if the bank doesn’t return my money? I wanted my own home. I was planning colors and wallpaper!” She fought the threat of tears.

Creighton’s mood seemed to darken as well, but his fingers tightened where their hands were now laced together.

Thankful for the flashlight, that she knew Creighton didn’t need, she gasped when the glow caught the glint of eyes.

“Cat,” Creighton’s low voice reassured.

At her front door, they stood on the deck and hugged for a long time.

Shana was reluctant to let him go.

Eventually, he relaxed, and slid his hands down her back.

She stayed on the deck until his shadowed form blended into the trees and out of sight. Shana smiled, again thankful for Creighton. Sobered, she longed to help him the same way he reached out to ease the pain of others.

The offensive smell hit her as soon as she turned from unbarring the cabin door. It was the same overpowering “perfume,” like sour sweat, that she had detected in her Lincoln duplex. Has to be my imagination. Or is someone here?

Who was after her? And better yet, why?

New to this prayer business, Shana tried to pray. But how can you think when your heart threatens to jump out of your chest?

 

****

 

Creighton slumped in the rocker on his front porch, staring into the midnight sky. Thoughts twisted in his mind.

Thomas had been a pain-in-the-neck little brother when they were kids. Then as a fun-loving, rabble-rousing teen, Creighton had been thankful that some of his chores could be handed off on Thomas. The antagonism came out when Creighton returned home from Wayne State College and made decisions regarding the ranch.

What had he ever done to Thomas to earn such derision? It wasn’t his fault that their dad had a will. As the oldest, Creighton was named executor and owner of the ranch. Their mother, Vera, had taken care of business until she died. The life insurance policy had been tucked away in the bank. Heaven only knew why his father had made payments. That money was split between Rita and Thomas, and Creighton had used the ranch fund to bury their father.

Had Creighton wronged Thomas and never been aware? Maybe Thomas had never forgiven him for being a drunk like their dad and felt Creighton was undeserving of the ranch?

But, thanks be to God, Creighton no longer drank. “And on that note, Father, I’m asking You to lift this cloud from my heart. Please bring Thomas to Yourself. Maybe then he can forgive me for however I’ve wronged him.”

Creighton stood, feeling the damp coolness. He looked towards Shana’s cabin and threw good-night wishes her way, and frowned at the tug in his heart.

Was she calling out to him?

 

****

 

A thud from the other side of the sliding door shook Shana into action. She gazed from the left side of the door, through the kitchen area, over the glass, towards her bed. By the time she garnered courage to move forward at a snail’s pace, a deeper shadow slithered on the other side of the glass. A person-sized shadow.

Shana sprung across the room, not circling, but vaulting over the sofa. Her toes caught, and she stumbled over a throw pillow. She slammed the slider open in time to hear thudding footsteps slapping against the decking.

No four-legged animal would make that kind of noise across the treated wood.

She screamed Creighton’s name and took off at a run. She was still screaming when she ran square into a chest at the edge of the pine windbreak. Her pulse beat in her ears. Her erratic breathing was enough to scare off any creature of the night. She struggled in the person’s grasp. Kicking proved fruitless.

“Calm down, Shana.”

Creighton. Oh, Creighton’s here, thank You, God.

“Someone was in my cabin.”

His grip tightened and he slung her behind him, ready to charge.

Somewhat quieter on the outside, she clung to his solid biceps and leaned into his side. “Whoever it was is long gone, I think he ran to the road.”

Creighton rotated in a complete circle. “We can get my quad.”

“No.” Shana untangled her feet from the grass. “Let me get the Lincoln policeman’s card and see if he thinks there’s a link.” She clasped Creighton’s hand like a lifeline as they returned to her cabin.

Anxiety built. Couldn’t she just ignore it all for a little while longer? Stay in the safety of Creighton’s world? Once inside, she trailed her hands down her arms. Her trembling fingers checked the laptop. Then she reached into her pants pocket to assure herself the flash disk remained safe.

But was she safe?

“All right. Why is this happening to me? I’m done taking this thing lying down.”

He held her hand in his, somehow transmitting strength to her, as they hurried to his ranch house. The telephone rang, and they ran the rest of the way.

Creighton seemed to move in slow motion when he reached to pick up the phone. He kept her by his side as he answered. “It’s for you.” He passed her the cordless handset and raised her other hand to his lips.

As she said hello, he kissed each knuckle. A new kind of craziness took root in her stomach, at the same time she tried to focus on her father’s voice.

“…I checked in with Investigator Shelbourne.” She heard his hesitation and recognized it as nothing good. “Sorry, sugar, no progress to report on the investigation.”

“I’m losing everything.”

Creighton shook his head and mouthed, “No. You have Jesus.”

She leaned against the door, finding it almost impossible to concentrate.

He drew a circle in the air, communicating that he was going to walk through the house.

She nodded, but wanted to freak out. To run into the night, screaming until it all went away. Whatever it was. The dial tone buzzed at her ear. She didn’t remember saying good-bye to her father. Instead, she imagined the flash of a human shadow outside the window. Would she be safe again in the cabin? She could be homeless soon. She had no reserves, nothing to fall back on. She was all alone.

You have Me. A hushed Voice sounded in her soul.

Creighton was right.

She wasn’t alone. Tension dropped from her brow. Following that thought, Shana pictured a verse in John’s Gospel. “I am the way and the truth and the life,” Jesus said.

Jesus was with her.

No lightning flashed. No thunder slammed. But peace invaded her soul. “Give me strength, Father. Please. And thank You, Jesus.” With a deep sigh, she dug into her pocket for the investigator’s business card. No reason to put it off. Technical Investigator Shelbourne at the Lincoln Police Dept. answered on the first ring. She identified herself and asked if there was any news concerning her situation.

“We really don’t have much to go on, Ms. Arnold. Your case isn’t big enough for a common thread connecting it with other similar incidents. Sorry to say, white collar crimes like this are the up-and-coming trend. Unfortunately, we don’t have a large enough database established yet to link the smaller cases. And, no news on your car, either.”

“I appreciate all that you have done and I guess I’ll chalk this up to one of life’s bad experiences.” She paused, sighed in resignation. “There’s something else, though. I returned to my cabin tonight to find that same strong perfume smell. I didn’t actually see anything more than a body-sized shadow, but I heard footsteps on the deck and ran back to the ranch house.” Fear lodged in her throat once again, even though Creighton had returned to rest on the couch arm, giving her support by his presence.

Shelbourne’s voice sounded like he’d had a shot of espresso. “Ah. Whoever this is must be escalating his activities. Is there a local sheriff to contact? Someone I can talk to up there?”

“I’ll have Creighton find out and hopefully contact you so we’re all on the same page.”

“Wish there was more we could do. I’m curious now, and will check on that perfume smell you mentioned. I followed up on Young’s report of the break-in.”

Shana straightened, paid more attention.

“We did pick up a latent print from your bureau.”

“That’s great news isn’t it?”

“We should know soon. When will you be returning to Lincoln?”

“I’ll be there this weekend.”

“Good. Please stop in so we can compare your prints with the others that we found.” He hesitated. “It’s different if you are the target instead of your finances.” Shelbourne asked to speak with the rancher.

She thanked the officer and handed the phone to Creighton. Shana stomped ten paces one way and ten back. Who was that mysterious someone…her enemy without a name?

Before any kind of answer could form, Creighton gathered her close, while speaking into the phone. He shot her a wink. “My neighbor about five miles away is a deputy sheriff. I’ll have Hank Flowers come by in the morning to take a look around.”

 

****

 

Bright sunlight defied whatever went bump in the night, and Creighton prayed Shana saw joy in the morning at her own cabin.

Deputy Sheriff Hank Flowers prepared to leave Creighton’s home. “That about does it. Nothing much to say except there are signs that a car was parked up the road. Other than that, all we found was disturbed dust and a sleeping bag in one of the rear cabins. I’m guessing someone slept there. I’ll send another deputy to see if there are any prints or other evidence. Don’t go to that cabin until we clear it.”

Creighton turned to go inside. He’d have to warn Valerie to be extra cautious. If needed, the women could stay at the house. He was struck by the emptiness of his rooms. He stood with his back against the kitchen counter, eating a bowl of cold cereal flakes, unable to sit at the table because he pictured Shana seated across from him.

She’d be gone in a matter of days.

He didn’t want to think about it now. His appetite gone, he set down the bowl. “How can I help her, Lord? I feel like my hands are tied here.” He dug his thumbs into his temples and massaged his forehead, as though unscrambling his thoughts.

The sun glared when he stepped outside. He climbed on his four-wheeler and rumbled through the pasture on his way to Valerie’s cabin, but detoured to the top of the nearest bluff. From that vantage point he waved at Roger, who was checking the stock tank at the far windmill. Soon, Rog would sell the calves and drive the cows to winter in the corrals at his place.

Fall meant a time of transition. A time between peaks of growth and the slumber of winter. Maybe he should invest in some cattle of his own. His thoughts idled with the motor beneath him. In the next couple of days, he’d ride the fences and make sure they were all tight.

Suddenly, the winter ahead loomed long and dark. He had to come up with a project. He circled around and headed for Valerie’s cabin.

She stepped outside as he pulled up. “I just need a few things at the store, Creighton. A twenty should cover it.”

He lifted his bright red cap and resettled it on his head. “Everything OK? Nothing needs a look?”

Valerie reached into her skirt pocket and started down the deck steps. She glanced at her list and handed it over, paper-clipped to a twenty-dollar bill. “The cabin’s in tip-top shape. But, now that I can see your eyes, you look tired. I don’t think you’re in tip-top shape.”

“Just trying to work some things out.”

“You young people.” Valerie shook her head and her long blonde-gray ponytail swung with the action. “Try not to be so serious about life. Enjoy each day, each problem, be glad in the Lord, and go with the flow.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“Sing, Creighton, sing. Your heart will be gladdened.” And with that, Valerie belted out a hymn he loved.

He laughed aloud. “Thanks. I needed that. But I don’t know if I’m in a singing mood quite yet. Shana had a scare last night and I can’t say I blame her. Looks like she had an unexpected visitor who disappeared without a trace.”

“Two-legged or four?”

“Appears to have been a person. So, please be on the look-out, OK?”

Valerie promised to check on Shana, and he was on his way again.

Shana had insisted on sleeping in her own cabin last night, and despite his reservations, he went with her wishes. At Shana’s cabin, he waited for her to come outside and give him her grocery list, but she made no appearance. After her interrupted night, she probably needed to sleep in. Creighton reviewed their precautions of the night before, and knowing Valerie was keeping an eye on Shana, he went on to the grocery store.