Chapter Two

Miles of cotton fields and sprawling ranches had given Dodd Cunningham an uneasy feeling that afternoon, even before he passed the Welcome to Trapp, Texas! Home of the Panthers! road sign, but he figured small-town life would grow on him. The sense of security his mother felt being near her old friends, the Mendozas, made up for the petty discomforts nagging him.

“Dodd?” His younger brother, Grady, rolled down the passenger window of the El Camino, speaking over the moan of the glass. “Does anyone live in this town?”

“Well, there was the guy back at the gas station.”

“You think he killed the rest of them?”

Dodd cut his eyes toward Grady and chuckled. “Possibly.”

“Well, I think the high school principal could be in on it.”

“Tell me he’s not that bad.”

Grady stuck his head out the window and shook his hair in the wind. “I guess you’ll find out Monday morning, won’t you?”

Dodd smiled as he eased to a stop behind the orange-and-white moving truck in his driveway. He and Grady climbed out of the car to stand on the cracked sidewalk, surveying the pink siding of the shoebox-sized house for the second time that day. Dodd took a deep breath and realized Trapp even smelled strange. Like baked dirt. “I have a funny feeling about this place.”

“Funny like hysterical?” Grady said. “Like maniacal laughter?”

Dodd glanced at puffy, white clouds, finding comfort in their familiarity. Funny like how did I end up here. He flinched. His primary goal was to be an encouragement to Grady and his mother, so he forced a lighter mood. “Funny like you never know what God has up His sleeve.”

Grady strode to the chain-link fence at the side of the house. “You can’t pray about a move as much as we have and doubt whether it’s right. Obviously God wants you here or He wouldn’t keep dumping job interviews on you.” He leaned against the top rail, the wire mesh clinking in protest. “I thought no big trees grew out here.”

Dodd joined him, leaning his forearms on the warm metal. “Grady, that tree is dead.”

“Yet they left it here as a memorial.”

Grady frowned at the oak in their backyard, but Dodd didn’t doubt his brother’s enthusiasm for their new home. Even at eighteen, Grady had the markings of a natural missionary, and Dodd envied the ease with which his brother adapted to new situations. Their mother had signed a contract to teach at the middle school two weeks ago, and at the last minute, Dodd decided to come with them. He hadn’t yet gotten used to the idea of living in Nowhere, USA, and his confidence was sprinting to catch up to his good intentions.

Their mother called from the front porch. “What do you think of the place?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Grady pushed away from the fence.

“Just wait until Fawn Blaylock introduces you to some of the kids,” she said.

“Mom …,” Grady whined. “We don’t even know her. Isn’t she old?”

“I think she’s twenty. That’s not old. Besides, Charlie says she knows all the teenagers in town.”

Dodd followed his brother to the moving truck and shoved the door up with a clatter. Wednesday night, the Trapp elders had come to Fort Worth for a brief interview, and Dodd had met Fawn’s father, Neil Blaylock. Polished boots, starched jeans, broad smile. In some ways, the complete opposite of Charlie Mendoza, his mother’s old friend from college, who was a softer version of cowboy. The third elder, Lee Roy Goodnight, could’ve been their grandfather.

Dodd looked at Grady and gently crossed his eyes.

“We don’t want no hick girlfriends, Mom.” Grady hooked his thumbs on his tank top.

“I didn’t mean to imply you did.” She retrieved a mop and pail from the back of her SUV. “Before you know it, Trapp will feel like home.”

She smiled, but Dodd detected a hint of apprehension in her voice that echoed his own. He took the cleaning supplies as a breeze swept red sand down the street and with it, the odor of manure. “This town will take some getting used to, Mom.” He kissed the top of her head. “But the important thing is the people.”

Grady cleared his throat. “Both of them.”

Forty-five minutes and several dozen boxes later, sweat soaked Dodd’s shirt and stung his eyes. He paused to analyze how they would get the refrigerator off the truck. “Of all the vans on the rental lot, I end up with one whose ramps are stuck.”

“What do you suggest?” Grady asked.

Dodd gauged the distance from the truck bed to the ground. “What if you lean the chunky girl all the way back so she’s almost lying on her side, then ease her over the edge.” He rubbed the nape of his neck. “If you pull back when she slides down, I think I can support her weight until she reaches the driveway.”

Grady scratched his head. “So you want me to pitch her down to you? Just like that?”

Dodd pushed up the sleeves of his T-shirt with deliberate movements, flexed, then laughed. “Okay, so it might not be the most practical idea, but I don’t see any other option.”

“Cool.” Grady clambered into the truck. “I may get my own room after all.” He dragged the appliance across the bed of the truck as the screech of metal on metal echoed down the street. “That’s as near as I can get it. I’ll tilt it back and slip the edge off the side.”

Dodd wiped sweat out of his eyes. “Rotate it ninety degrees to take advantage of the smooth side. As it is now, you’ll be sliding against the back tubing.”

“But that’ll scratch the finish.”

Dodd looked past Grady. “Grab a blanket from behind you.”

Grady dug through a box, then flared the bedding like a bullfighter. “You ready, then?”

“Bring it on.” Dodd grinned at his brother, glad of the time they were spending together, a bittersweet result of their father’s death. If all had gone according to plan, they would have still been hundreds of miles apart—Grady working foreign missions with their parents while Dodd labored stateside, sending money to support them.

Grady angled the appliance until the bottom edge lay even with the truck floor. “I’ll pull back as I send her over. Here comes the princess.”

Dodd braced himself against the bottom of the fridge and said a quick prayer.

Together they scooted the bulk over the edge, but too late Dodd realized the blanket would cause the appliance to slide too easily.

Grady stammered, “My hands are slipping. Sweaty.”

“Not yet. Two more feet.”

“I can’t.”

The top of the refrigerator crashed against the inside wall of the truck, and Dodd buckled under the added weight. “Grady, do something!”

“There’s nothing to hold on to.”

Dodd heard running footfalls, and the fridge shifted before gliding to the ground. He rose slowly, massaging a sore spot where the door handle had gouged his inner arm. That would be a substantial bruise, but it could have been so much worse. He breathed heavily as he stepped around the appliance and came face-to-face with one of the largest men he’d ever seen. Several inches taller than Dodd and twice as broad, the stranger was a modern-day Hercules … in a tattered Led Zeppelin T-shirt.

“You came along just in time.” Dodd extended his hand. “I’m Dodd Cunningham.”

The man’s gaze swept the street before he gripped Dodd’s hand and answered in a deep bass tone. “Just moving in myself.”

Grady sat on the bed of the truck, his legs dangling over the side. “You saved my brother from getting smashed by four hundred pounds of Maytag.” He grinned. “I’m Grady. What’s your name?”

The stranger hesitated. “Clyde. Clyde Felton.”

“I’m not above bribing you, Mr. Felton,” Grady said. “If you help lug this old thing into the house, we’d be more than happy to assist with your own belongings.”

“Place came furnished.” Clyde scrutinized the pink shoebox of a house as if it were a nest of scorpions. “I guess I can help real quick.”

Most likely Clyde could have transported the appliance on his own, but together the three of them maneuvered it toward the porch, and all the while Clyde glanced up and down the street. Dodd wondered if the other neighbors would be so skeptical. So far he’d received a hearty small-town welcome, but this guy was new in town too. Maybe he felt as out of place as Dodd.

With the fridge installed in the corner of the kitchen, Clyde said shortly, “No dolly?”

Dodd’s mother entered from the backyard, where she had been shaking out rugs. “My son gets carried away pinching pennies. I’m Milla Cunningham.”

“Ma’am.”

Her gaze bounced from their neighbor to the floor and back again, and Dodd knew his mother was having just as much trouble figuring him out as Dodd. The man seemed lost, like a toddler separated from his mother in a toy store—a peculiar blend of angst and excitement.

“I wish I could offer you a glass of iced tea,” Milla said, “but tap water will have to do for now.” She dug through a cardboard box for a stack of foam cups as Clyde shuffled toward the door, his outdated Adidas dragging across the gritty linoleum.

“Water’s fine.”

The man made his way to the front porch one step at a time as he dodged questions from Milla. Eventually she would crack the poor guy, and they’d be friends, but Dodd opted for a slower approach, figuring it might take a while to earn his trust.

Grady motioned to the weeds in Clyde’s yard across the street, then the tall grass in his own. “I’ll be mowing tomorrow. I’ll make a swipe through your place as well.”

Clyde’s eyes jerked toward the teenager. “No need.”

“It’s the least I can do for the man who saved my brother’s life.” Grady slapped Dodd on the back.

“Best stay away from my place.”

Dodd tensed at Clyde’s tone, wondering if the crusty neighbor intended the remark as an underlying threat, but his concern evaporated as an older pickup stopped on the street.

“There’s Charlie, late as usual,” Milla said, in an obvious attempt to lighten the mood.

His mother’s old friend folded himself out of the truck with a broad grin. His boisterous voice boomed, belying his thin frame. “About time you made it to Trapp, Milla Vanilla.”

“I haven’t heard that nickname in twenty-five years—Charlie Womendoza.”

“Hey, now.” He pointed an index finger at her as he strode across the yard.

The way Charlie put his mother at ease lessened Dodd’s doubts about their new home but reminded him of his father’s absence. Dodd would give anything to be able to ask his dad’s advice about his new job at the church.

“Neil asked if he could tag along.” Charlie gestured toward the truck.

Neil Blaylock, tall and tan, swept a cream-colored cowboy hat onto his head as he walked toward them.

Dodd shook the man’s hand. “Good to see you again, Mr. Blaylock.”

“Welcome to Trapp, son. From what I hear, your father would be right proud of you for all you’ve taken on. Right proud.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“It’s good to see the old El Camino.” Charlie gazed wistfully at the car. “I can’t believe it’s still running. Your daddy and I had some adventures back in school.”

Milla peered at Neil and Charlie. “You didn’t bring your wives?”

“Not this time.” Neil flashed a smile. “But they’ll be at the ranch tomorrow night for the cookout.”

Dodd’s stomach tightened uncomfortably. He wanted to impress the church members yet felt underqualified. His measly experience didn’t make up for his lack of education, and he was even more ill-prepared to lead his family. He was grateful to have Charlie—and hopefully Neil—as a source of encouragement and guidance.

“Everything go all right with the move, son?” Charlie’s large hand gripped Dodd’s shoulder.

“Smooth sailing until Grady and I tried to unload the refrigerator by ourselves, but a neighbor came to our rescue.”

“Neighbor?”

“Clyde Felton. He lives across the street.” Dodd motioned toward the porch, but sometime during the conversation, Clyde had slipped away.

“Whoa,” Grady said. “Where’d he go?”

Neil adjusted his hat with a frown. “Clyde Felton was here?”

“Until a second ago.” Grady grinned. “Dodd would be smashed right now if not for him.”

Dodd wondered at the man’s abrupt disappearance, but Milla waved away the discussion. “Come on in,” she said. “I’ll show you what we’ve done with the place.”

“That shouldn’t take long,” Grady mumbled.

As his mother and brother entered the house with Charlie and Neil, Dodd surveyed the old trailer house across the street. A light shone in one of the windows, but he could detect no movement. The evening breeze carried the trill of a distant train whistle, and Dodd once again inhaled the odor of cattle. He would be accustomed to the scent in a day or two, along with hundreds of other unexpected differences of small-town life, and by the time he fulfilled his three-year commitment to preach part-time at the Trapp congregation, he might even beg to stay. In the meantime, he decided it would serve him well to get to know his neighbors.

Especially Clyde Felton.