Lone Heart Pass (9 page)

CHAPTER TEN

Thatcher
March 5

O
N
F
RIDAY
MORNING
,
Thatcher Jones got up at six, took a bath, washed his hair, ate a piece of leftover pizza he found in the refrigerator and headed off to school.

Not, he decided, because of any fear of the sheriff, but because he wanted to see what Kristi Norton looked like in dry clothes.

As he parked his pickup where the dirt road met County Road 111, he watched the sun rise and waited for the school bus. He thought about Kristi for the hundredth time. He doubted he'd be able to see her bra in dry clothes and he was pretty positive she wouldn't hold his hand, but still, he needed to see her again.

Since the night of the storm when her family had found the body in Ransom Canyon, she'd slowly become more fantasy than reality in his thoughts. If he went another week without seeing her, he might not recognize the real girl when he did finally bump into her.

The bus almost didn't brake as it passed his stop. The driver was fifty feet down the dirt road before she could stop.

“Hell,” Thatcher yelled as he climbed on. “Is this part of Phys Ed class that I have to run to chase the damn bus down!”

The driver had her headphones on. She just waved him in.

Thatcher looked around. Two kids in middle school were trying to make out in the very back seats. From the looks of it they had no idea what they were doing, but Thatcher was no expert. In the middle of the bus were half a dozen older girls, probably fifteen or sixteen. They appeared to be trading makeup as they all talked at once. The few others scattered about were either reading or sleeping—in other words, trying to be invisible.

Not wanting to draw attention, Thatcher sat down in the second seat beside a tiny little girl who looked too young to be on the bus.

She stared up at him without fear as she raised one finger. “If Mizz Tiffee had heard you, she would have kicked you off of the bus for cussing.”

He glared at the fairy of a girl. “You are not even old enough to go to school, so why are you on this bus?” He was surprised she knew enough words to talk in sentences.

“I am five and a half. I'm in kindergarten. There is no cussing or fighting on this bus.”

Great, Thatcher thought, the tiny kid knew more about the bus rules than he did. “What's your name?”

“Lillie Collins. If you bother me in any way, I'm supposed to scream and tell Mizz Tiffee.”

Thatcher frowned. “What if you bother me?” He noticed a sign behind the driver that said Your driver is Miss Tiffany today.

Tiny Lillie turned her pigtails from one side to the other and finally said, “Then you scream and tell Mizz Tiffee.”

“Good plan.” He glanced back. There were at least ten seats between them and all the other kids. “You don't know anyone on this bus, do you, Lillie?” It was March and he'd never seen her ride before.

She shook her head. “When we lived in town, my daddy took me to school, but my daddy says we live too far out for him to do it everyday so I have to ride the bus sometimes. I don't have a momma.” Big tears floated in her eyes.

“Don't worry about it, kid. I don't have a dad.”

“You don't?”

“Nope.” He smiled at her. “You want to know something else?”

She nodded.

“I don't have any friends on this bus, either. How about you and me decide to be friends? When I get on the bus, I'll wave and say ‘Hi, Lillie,' and when you get off you tell me to have a nice day.”

She thought about it for a minute, than said, “I don't ride the bus on Thursdays and Fridays. I stay in town.”

Thatcher shrugged. “That's all right. I don't usually go on those days anyway.”

When the bus pulled to a stop between the high school and the grade school across the street, he got off first and smiled as she yelled for him to have a nice day.

Miss Tiffany took off her headphones and told Lillie that she had to walk her into her classroom. Thatcher watched them go. When the little fairy glanced back at him, she looked as if she was about to cry. He made a funny face and Lillie smiled. Then, she waved until she disappeared behind the doors.

Thatcher grinned, making up his mind to keep an eye on Lillie when he could. If anyone picked on her, they'd answer to him.

As the first bell sounded, he heard laughter coming from a few feet to his left.

Thatcher turned. Standing there, smiling, was the reason he'd come to school. Kristi Norton. Her hair was long and curly and her clothes were dry, but there she was, the girl of his dreams.

“Hello, Thatcher,” she said moving closer. “I figured I'd run into you eventually. The school's not that big.”

He just stood there. He'd lost the ability to talk. Hell, if he didn't act fast his muscles would die on him soon. Brain activity was already questionable.

Kristi didn't seem to notice that he'd turned into a short flagpole. She giggled and took his hand. “We'd better run or we'll be late.”

Then they were running up the steps and down the hall. She let go of his hand when he turned one direction and she turned the other.

“See you at lunch,” she yelled a moment before she disappeared.

Thatcher stopped moving when he realized she was in the sophomore hall and his classes were in the freshman hall. He had no doubt she was smarter than him, but she was also older. She'd never talk to him at lunch. He might as well stop dreaming about it happening.

As he walked to his first class, he swore under his breath. No one seemed to notice. No one talked to him anyway. As usual, he was simply a nobody who walked the halls.

Maybe Kristi just wanted to make fun of him at lunch. He'd always been that odd kid who didn't fit into any group, didn't have any friends. Why should this day be different?

He didn't watch TV, or have a cell phone or play any games. He could count the number of movies he'd seen on his fingers. He always missed the first week of school because the teacher would have them write about where they went on vacation. His mother never worked anywhere long enough to get one and if she did ever take a vacation he doubted she'd take him along.

Kristi would probably act as though she didn't know him next time. No, that didn't make sense; she could have done that before school.

Maybe she wanted to be his girlfriend. After all, she did hold his hand. He'd never had a girlfriend. He had no idea how to act or what to say.

Hell, the little fairy on the bus probably knew more about it than he did. All he knew for certain was the proper way to act had nothing to do with what he saw at home.

He found his backpack and books in his locker.
Damn, damn
, he swore as he walked into his class. He'd have to stay around until lunch and see what was going on. If Kristi made fun of him, it would hurt a little, but he could handle it. If she talked to him, he'd do his best to at least nod.

He sat down in the back and decided to pay attention in class for a change. After all, Kristi might say something about what he'd learned.

The morning seemed endless. By lunch, he'd started worrying whether he'd have the ability to eat in front of her. When he headed into the cafeteria, a line of little kids was passing by like a centipede.

“Hi, That.” One of them raised her hand.

He laughed. “Hi, Flower.”

Lillie giggled as she passed, but he heard her telling the little girl behind her that he was her friend.

Thatcher was still smiling when he looked across the room and saw Kristi Norton. She looked even more beautiful, if that was possible. She was carrying a tray and nodded toward a table.

He nodded back, guessing she wanted him to get his food and join her. This was hard to figure out. Suddenly, he was Columbus without a map.

A few minutes later he sat down across from her.

She smiled. “You only got pie, Thatcher. Correction, three slices of pie.”

He looked down at his tray. “I like pie.” He thought of adding that he liked her, too, but that might be too much. “I'll share.”

She reached across the space between them and handed him half of her sandwich. “You like tuna?”

“Sure.”

“Good.” She nodded toward his tray. “I like chocolate.”

Then, a few minutes later, he learned his first fact about girls.

If you listened, they didn't seem to notice that you didn't talk. She told him about how she liked the school and how tough it was having a father for a principal and how she loved this girl's hair and wished hers looked like that girl's. She even told him she never wanted to be a cheerleader, which Thatcher would have never thought to ask.

As they finished off the third slice of pie, Thatcher managed to say, “I like your hair just the way it is.”

Right then he learned his second fact about girls. One compliment is all it takes to make them smile.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Jubilee
March 10

J
UBILEE
STOOD
IN
the dawn darkness of her bedroom and watched Charley moving around down by the barn. He'd worked for her for over two weeks and she still didn't feel as though she knew him. What she did know was that he worked hard and never wasted time with compliments or lies. She liked that about him. Honesty was rare in her world.

At over six feet and void of fat, there was a grace in his movements, but everything else about Charley Collins's appearance bothered her. She'd spent six years dressing for success. Dressing her candidate to be polished. Measuring the worth of a man by the cut of his suit.

Charley's hair was a month or two past needing a cut. None of his clothes looked as if they'd ever seen an iron. He was the total opposite of the men she'd known in DC. She couldn't even imagine him in a suit.

When they'd first met, she'd thought he'd be hard to get along with, maybe even a little chauvinistic, but he wasn't. Oh, he was headstrong, but he was also kind. He never pointed out her weaknesses or failures. She'd spent years working with political sharks who, at the first sign of weakness, could smell blood in the water. Maybe that was why she'd always picked easygoing men to date who let her set all the rules.

Charley didn't fit into either type.

Jubilee remembered the morning she'd felt the need to tell him that wash-and-wear was just a suggestion and he'd promptly told her to mind her own business. Dressing for success evidently wasn't his thing. They talked over everything about the ranch, though, but her word wasn't law. Most of the time they argued it out, and he won as often as she did.

And he was a great father to Lillie. This down-on-his-luck drifter who didn't own a bed to sleep in was the best father she'd ever seen. He was strict, had rules he expected even a five-year-old to follow, but no one could miss the love in his eyes when he looked at his daughter.

Jubilee had to wonder what it would have been like to have grown up with that kind of love.

She moved closer to the window as first light crept across the land behind the barn. “You're not like any man I've ever known,” she whispered to his shadow circling the still dark barn. “If ever there was a man who wasn't my type, you're him. Bossy, headstrong, impatient.” All the other men she'd gotten to know well enough to sleep with were calm. Nothing was ever worth fighting over. They'd always simply left. But not Charley; he'd argue his point of view to the end and she had a feeling that if he did leave, he'd have plenty to say on his way out.

The man was exhausting, but she knew without any doubt that she'd never be able to get this place in shape without him. The first few days she'd had to fight to get him to show her how everything was done, but finally they'd begun to work as a team. Their breakfasts were strategy sessions using both their strengths.

As she tugged on yesterday's jeans and shirt, Jubilee decided he was rubbing off on her. She was becoming a bum. No more silk blouses. No navy or black suits. No heels. The people in the campaign office wouldn't recognize her now.

She barely recognized herself in the mirror. She'd started braiding her hair to keep it out of the way. Her face and arms were tanned and freckles brushed across her nose. Though she tried to remember to wear a hat, her hair now had streaks of sunshine in the color her sister had always called dirty blond.

After pulling on her boots, Jubilee brushed her teeth and headed down to make breakfast. After a week of cereal, she'd figured out how to make pancakes. It really wasn't that hard—just shake the plastic bottle, add milk, shake again, and pour. Bacon was even easier. Buy precooked and microwave it for twenty seconds.

Of course she had to buy a microwave first, then mattress covers, rugs, pillows, shower curtains, towels and bedspreads for all the bedrooms no one used. The little touches upstairs made the house seem brighter. At night, when she couldn't sleep, she'd bring down antiques from the attic and decorate each room in which it looked as though Levy hadn't stepped foot since she'd left that summer years ago.

She'd found trunks of beautiful quilts and handmade lace that was spider-web fine. She'd discovered a box of dolls with porcelain faces and hands.

Levy had showed them to her that summer and said she could have them if she still played with dolls.

When she shook her head, he'd handed her a hundred-dollar bill and drove her to Walmart. “Buy what you need. If you're too old for dolls, I have no idea what you want.”

“Can I fix my room up?” she'd asked.

“Anyway you want, missy. You're the one who has to sleep in it.”

At eleven years old, she'd bought the wrong size sheets, way too many washcloths and enough shampoo to last years. But she'd had great fun decorating her room with old blankets and furniture she'd found scattered around in the house.

Now she could decorate the entire house. She was home.

A noise from the barn pulled her away from being Martha Stewart.

She reached the porch just as Charley ran out of the barn and headed to his house.

“Lillie!” he shouted as if calling an alarm.

Jubilee took off toward him but he reached his front door at a full run. Something was very wrong.

She almost made it to their porch when he rushed back outside, his daughter on one arm and a rifle on the other.

He stormed toward Jubilee, but his voice was surprisingly calm. “Take Lillie inside your place. There's something in the barn I'm going to have to deal with before I come back to get her.”

Jubilee opened her mouth to ask questions, but the look in his eyes frightened her more than his words. She took the girl and tried to keep panic from spilling into her words. “Sure. We'll make pancakes.”

Jubilee talked to Lillie all the way back to her kitchen. The little angel had eaten breakfast with them twice before. Usually, when she stayed on the ranch, she was up earlier and Charley fed her before he drove her down to the ranch gate where she caught the bus. Today something had kept Charley in the barn longer than usual.

“Are you really cooking pancakes?” Lillie asked.

“Do you like pancakes?”

“Yes, with blueberries inside and strawberry jam on top.”

“I might need some help.” Jubilee had never tried them with blueberries. After all it wasn't in the recipe on the box.

A few minutes later, as she poured the pancakes out on the hot grill, Lillie dropped the blueberries in the batter as they cooked.

Jubilee tried to relax and enjoy the fun, but her whole body was tense, waiting to hear a shot. She'd seen Charley carrying his rifle before. Once in the pickup when they were out on the back pasture, and once when he was cleaning it on his porch on a night Lillie had stayed in town. He'd told her it was simply a tool that was around every ranch, but she still didn't like seeing it.

Now all kinds of possibilities of what might be in the barn ran through her mind. A coyote, maybe, or a mountain lion. They had seen tracks of a lion in the mud near the pass. A snake, maybe. Or the killer of the man someone had found in the canyon might be hiding out in the loft. After all, he hadn't been caught.

The awareness of how isolated they were out here settled over her like a wet blanket. She'd never even heard the phone ring. Even if someone could find the place, whoever was hurt would be in grave danger. And if a killer was on the property, they'd have to deal with him themselves.

By the time they had breakfast ready, Jubilee wasn't sure who was keeping whom calm. Lillie made her laugh with her story of the dangers of the playground and how a third grader had told her the janitor was really a zombie.

When Jubilee moved a foot away to reach for milk, Lillie flipped a pancake on the floor and said that it had escaped.

Jubilee saw the mischief in her sparking eyes and decided to play along.

Finally, Charley stepped through the door. Slowly, as if it were simply a routine, he lifted his rifle and slid it onto a shelf above the door's frame.

“Everything all right?” she said as she tried to meet his eyes, but he was looking only at his daughter.

He nodded to Jubilee. “Breakfast ready?”

She smiled. “I had help this morning. Your daughter is a great cook.”

Lillie was busy spreading jam on her pancakes and rolling them up with one slice of bacon in the middle. “I had to show her how to make pancake rollups, Daddy.”

Jubilee passed him a cup of coffee and they all sat down as if they'd done so for years. Halfway through the meal Jubilee realized something. Charley was a different man around his daughter. Kind, funny, loving. The hardness about him had vanished.

She thought about how her father had been when she was growing up. He considered mealtime as a captive opportunity to lecture and criticize. Jubilee was his favorite target. If all was right with politics on the six o'clock news, her father would turn his attention to what was wrong with his youngest daughter. The meal and the lecture usually ended with him telling her to try and be more like her sister.

But Charley had Lillie laughing when he made a face as he bit into a blueberry. “Who put blueberries in my pancake? Everyone knows I hate blueberries.”

Lillie giggled. “They just fell in there, Daddy. It rains blueberries sometimes.”

Charley kept complaining as he finished his breakfast making up all kinds of stories about how blueberries might kill him. Lillie just laughed.

Finally, he stood and faced Jubilee. “Thanks for the fine breakfast.”

His first compliment ever, she thought.

“I'll take Lillie to school. I'm afraid we missed the bus this morning.” He met Jubilee's gaze. “We'll talk when I get back. Looks like rain coming in from the north. You might want to stay out of the barn until I get back.”

She offered another idea. “How about I ride along with you? I need to stop by the post office and pick up my mail. If it rains we might get more done in town than here. We can talk while we run errands.”

“Suit yourself.”

A few minutes later with Lillie between them, they flew down the back road while Lillie told them about a boy she met on the bus called That.

“Any chance his name might be Thatcher?” Charley asked as he pulled up at the school.

“It might be.” Lillie climbed over her father with backpack and lunchbox in hand.

Charley ignored all the elbows and knees as he kissed her forehead and said, “Tell Thatcher to drop by after school. I'd like to talk to him.”

“I will, if I see him.” Then she was running toward the door.

Jubilee smiled. “She's precious.”

“Yeah, she is.”

“Would you mind it if I asked where her mother is?”

Charley didn't look comfortable, but he answered, “We got married not long out of high school. I thought I could go to college and be a father. Turned out, she was the one who didn't want to be tied down at nineteen. She lasted almost a year, then she left me for parts unknown.”

“She left Lillie, too?”

He stared out at the schoolyard. “Said she wasn't the type to be a parent. Claimed she never wanted kids, though she'd never mentioned it before.” He stared at the door where Lillie had disappeared. “Surprisingly, I did, from the moment they put Lillie in my arms. I couldn't turn away from her even if it meant going to school, working two jobs and staying up with her at night. I seem to do a great job of screwing my life up, but one thing I try to get right. Loving Lillie.”

Jubilee knew that if he'd been taking odd jobs when they met, he must have been struggling. But he worked hard, and now she saw the reason.

Jubilee whispered as if Lillie might still be able to hear, “What was in the barn?”

“A bull snake,” he answered softly. “Until I got a good look, I feared it might be a rattler. Biggest one I've seen in years.”

She shivered. “Did it matter what kind it was? I hate snakes. How'd you get rid of it? I didn't hear a shot.”

“I wouldn't shoot it. I just trapped it. Bull snakes eat mice. They generally don't bother cattle or horses except in barns. They'll make the horses nervous. I thought I'd give it to the kid, Thatcher.”

Jubilee smiled. “I'm sure his mother will be tickled to hear the boy has a new pet.”

Charley, for once, smiled back. “I don't think she'll mind. From what I hear she's dating a man who could pass for a bull snake.”

Jubilee thought of asking him if he dated, but somehow that was far too personal a question. Besides, she knew the answer. From what she'd seen the past few weeks, Charley was either working or with his daughter. The man had no time in his life for anyone else. Maybe he had a midnight lover he visited now and then. Women in town would line up for that job.

“Thanks for taking care of the snake,” she said, meaning every word. “Poisonous or not, it would have scared me to death.”

He grinned as if he thought she was joking. “Just part of the job, boss.”

He started the pickup and didn't say a word when she got out a few blocks later to check the mail at the tiny post office on Main.

When she returned empty-handed, he didn't comment, just put the truck in reverse and headed out.

Jubilee flipped the sun visor down as they turned east. Folded envelopes and pieces of paper tumbled down on her. “What's this?” she said picking up the papers.

“Notes I've made on what we need on the ranch. Things I want to talk to you about when we get a little money coming in. I'm trying to get them in order of what we have to have first.” He laughed. “I don't want to hit you with too many things at once. You might bolt. I'm guessing money is tight with you, Jubilee. Everything I buy, you ask if it was really necessary.”

She had done just that. Always keeping tabs on every expense and trying to guess what came next. It surprised her that he must have been trying to calculate on the other end, only, like her, he was doing it blind. He didn't know how much he had to spend and she didn't know how much she needed to buy.