Just Down the Road (15 page)

As she walked out of the trees, she saw Brandon “Big” Biggs standing beside his truck waiting for her. In his work coat and the beard he’d started growing, he looked like a bear dressed up in a man’s clothes. He’d called her every night from his job. He’d even called Saturday morning to tell her he wouldn’t be in until Monday. From the looks of him, Big had left the job and driven through the night to reach her.

With a sob, she ran toward him, needing someone to hold her before she shattered completely.

He caught her in a welcome hug and lifted her off the ground. He didn’t ask her why she was walking in the cold. Big never questioned her. He was first and always her friend. Maybe because his parents hadn’t wanted him either, he always seemed to know when she needed him to stand close.

He shifted, lifting her legs and carrying her into the house. “Have you slept, little one?”

She shook her head, not remembering the last time she’d even tried. For the past two, maybe three days she’d sat on the porch watching the night and wondering if there had been anything she could have done to keep her uncle alive for just a few more months, a few more years. Then maybe she’d have been ready to let him go.

“He’s gone,” Reagan whispered.

“I know. That fact’s not going to change, Rea.”

Big carried her up the stairs and into her bedroom. He pulled the covers back with one hand, dropped her on the bed, then tugged off her boots and wet jacket. Without a word he tossed his own coat on the floor and crawled into bed with her.

He cuddled her close against him and kissed her forehead. “When you stop shivering, I’ll go turn up the heater.”

Bundling the covers around her, he fussed over her.

“Just stay with me,” she whispered. “I don’t want to be alone.”

He sat up and leaned away from her.

She stared at his back, wishing she could take the words back. He was a good friend, but no one should see her so broken.

Then she realized he was removing his sweatshirt.

A moment later, he was back, scooping her up against him. “Go to sleep, Reagan. I’m staying with you till you run me off. In the meantime, maybe we’ll both get some needed sleep.”

Reagan closed her eyes and let out a breath, warm against this bear of a man. “Thanks,” she whispered as she relaxed into sleep.

Four hours later when she heard a pounding on the door, Reagan cuddled deeper against Big. The last thing in the world she wanted to do was wake up and face the world.

“Honey,” he whispered as his hand cupped the back of her head and tugged. “You got to wake up. Someone’s pounding on the door like all hell’s broke loose.”

Reagan tried to think of swear words to put together to let him know how little she cared, but he was pushing her out of bed.

“It might be important,” he said.

She stumbled out of the bedroom and was halfway down the stairs when the front door came flying into the foyer, knocking over the line of framed pictures of all the old Truman relatives.

“Rea!” Noah yelled. He stepped over the lumber and glass as he looked around. “Rea, are you here?”

The shock of seeing Noah after months of missing him made her light-headed, and she sat down on the step. As always he was dressed western in jeans, a wool shirt tucked into his slim waist and boots, but this time he looked thinner, older, harder than when he’d left six months ago. Same
beautiful almost-black hair, same brown eyes, same handsome face but no easy smile.

It took him a few seconds, but he finally looked up. He didn’t look like he’d shaved in days. He shoved his Stetson back and smiled just like he always did as if playing to a crowd. “Hi, Rea. I came as soon as I heard.”

“Noah?” She hadn’t called him last night. For once, she hadn’t even sent him a text.

“Yep, it’s me.” He started up the stairs. “Dear God, I’ve missed you, Rea.” A smile dimpled his cheek. “I’ve even missed that wild hair of yours. Don’t tell me you always wake up with it looking like that … a red ball of fuzzy fire.”

Reagan brushed the side of her hair, knowing that it was hopeless. It had gotten damp during her walk and had probably curled into the tumbleweed style she faced every morning.

Before he reached her, Reagan heard heavy footsteps behind her.

Noah looked up and frowned. “What are you doing here, Biggs?”

“Sleeping,” Big answered simply.

Reagan saw in Noah’s face what he thought and knew she’d better act fast or both men would be tumbling down the stairs fighting.

“Uncle Jeremiah’s dead,” she said, half crying and half screaming.

Both men started patting her, trying to comfort her. Noah never could stand to see her cry, and Big was more worried about her than Noah. If a fight broke out, Noah would go all out, and Big, for her sake, would probably try not to hurt the bull rider. Of course, if Noah got a good punch in, Big would probably fall on the cowboy and crush him. She figured as long as she was crying, they wouldn’t think to start swinging.

Amid all the comforting and crying, the doorbell rang. For a moment, Reagan couldn’t figure out what it was. Everyone who came to the place always went to the back
door, or knew they’d be welcome to come on in so they didn’t bother with the bell.

She looked down and around Noah to see Sheriff Alexandra Matheson standing as if waiting for someone to open the door, which was lying in several pieces on the floor.

“Is something wrong here?” Alex had her hand on the butt of her gun and she was staring at her brother Noah as if she didn’t recognize him. “Was there a break-in?”

Noah straightened. “No, it was me, Sis. I thought something must have happened to Reagan, and when I noticed the door was locked, I knew something was wrong and I was right. The house has been invaded by Biggs here. You need to do your duty as sheriff and arrest him.”

Big looked confused, then angry. “I didn’t invade. I walked in carrying Reagan after I found her outside cold and crying.” He glared at Noah. “And I locked the door. You’re the one who broke it down, not me.”

The sheriff looked like she’d already had a long morning. “Reagan, you got any coffee? I could use a cup before I arrest both of these guys. Brother or no brother, Noah, knocking down the door just doesn’t seem right.”

Reagan led the sheriff to the kitchen while Big and Noah continued to yell at each other as they picked up the pieces of the door and tried to put it back together.

Once in the kitchen, Alex removed her hat and watched Reagan make coffee, “You okay, Reagan? I’m real sorry about your uncle.”

“I will be. He lived a long life. I guess I should be thankful for that and not so selfish to wish him here. His sister, Beverly, said to me once that to wish for someone not to die is to wish them one less day in heaven.”

“I remember your grandmother,” Alex said. “She was a nice lady, as friendly as Jeremiah was cold.”

Reagan concentrated on the coffee, not wanting to let Alex see her eyes and guess the truth. Beverly had just been an old lady at a nursing home Reagan became friends with as she cleaned her room. She’d told Reagan about Harmony, Texas, and when Reagan decided to run, she
took Miss Beverly’s last name. That was how she ended up at the Truman place five years ago.

Alex continued, “He and Beverly never got along, you know.” Alex glanced back toward the front door. “I know how he felt. I love my little brother Noah, but most of the time he’s home I’m frustrated with him.”

“I guess brothers and sisters don’t always become best friends. Uncle Jeremiah never talked about Beverly, but I found a box of birthday cards she’d sent him all her life. The fact that he kept the cards says something. They might have not been close, but they were still family.”

“Nobody got along with your uncle Jeremiah, but he will be missed. I’ve been sheriff for almost eight years, and he still treated me like I was a kid trying to steal his apples. I think he was a good man who loved his privacy, and,” she added, “he loved you.”

Reagan smiled. “I know. I’m not sure why. Maybe because he saw that I just needed someone to care about me, but I never doubted his love.”

The two men in the foyer finally smelled the coffee and wandered into the kitchen. Whatever they’d said to one another, or threatened, they didn’t seem willing to share.

Alex fell into her big-sister mode. “I don’t care why you broke that door, Noah, you’re not leaving here until it’s fixed.”

She looked at Biggs. “You were right to lock the door, Big. I can’t go into details, but for the next few days everyone should be on alert.”

“What happened?” Noah asked. “You can trust us.”

“If I tell you three, at least one of you will tell someone else, that you trust of course, and they’ll tell someone and by nightfall it will be the main topic of discussion from the diner to the bar.”

“You’re right, Sheriff, Noah’s got loose lips,” Biggs said. “It goes with his shifty eyes.”

“Me!”

Alex held her hand up. “Don’t start or I swear I’ll take you both in, brother or not, and put you in the same cell until you fight it out once and for all.” She waited until they
both looked calm. “Just be aware that there is a possible danger in town. A real danger.”

Noah nodded as if he’d been talking to himself. “Then it’s final, I’ll stay out here with Reagan to keep her safe.”

“You? What makes you think you’d be any help?” Big shouted. “Being able to stay on a bull for eight seconds doesn’t make you a guard. Hell, you’re the one who knocked down her door. And I can’t help noticing that this danger hanging around town seems to have come in about the same time you did.”

“I’m staying to protect her,” Noah said.

“Fine. I’m staying to protect her from you.”

“Me?” Noah looked hurt. “You’re the one who was sleeping with her when I got here.” He glanced at Reagan. “Which, by the way, I want to talk to you about as soon as we’re alone.”

“You’re not going to be alone.” Big grinned. “Because I’m going to be right next to her day and
night
until this trouble leaves.”

Noah took the challenge. “Then there will be three of us in the bed.”

Alex looked at Reagan. “You sure you don’t want me to lock them up?”

“No, they’re just like pit bull puppies. They’re just playing around.” She handed them each a cup of coffee and a cinnamon roll, loving their arguing, knowing that they both loved her and were hoping they’d keep her mind off all she had to live through today.

Her life was starting to sound like a soap opera with the volume turned up too loud. She could almost hear Uncle Jeremiah laughing all the way from heaven. He liked both “the boys,” as he called them. He’d complain that Noah probably had brain damage from falling off too many bulls, and Biggs was so big he’d eat them out of house and home.

“Pick one,” he used to say, “and I’ll run the other one off with the shotgun.”

“I can’t,” she’d always answer. “I love them both in different ways.”

He’d always walk off down the hall, mumbling that he maybe should shoot himself so he wouldn’t have to listen to them boys fight over his niece.

W
HEN
A
DDISON AWOKE, THE LITTLE BOY
, J
AMIE
,
WAS CUDDLED
against her warm and still sound asleep. The cowboy uncle was nowhere in sight, which worried her full awake.

Carefully, she slipped from the bed and pulled on a clean pair of scrubs. Tying her hair back, she walked toward the kitchen.

“Morning, beautiful,” Tinch said from where he sat making notes on what looked like a corner of a paper towel. The kitchen table was small and paint chipped, but the picture window beside it faced the sunrise, making the area shine golden.

“Coffee,” she whispered, following the smell.

He grinned as he watched her. “It was nice sleeping with you last night, Doc. I’ll never forget it.”

Addison frowned at him. “I bet you say that to every girl you sleep with.”

“I can’t lie. I probably have.”

“Hundreds of them, I’m guessing.” She straightened her back as she spooned sugar into her cup. “Men like you are all alike.” She’d heard her friends talk about them in college. Good-looking, wild cowboy types who hang out in bars like fishermen looking for their next catch, and if they didn’t get in a fight by last call, a different girl got reeled in every night.

“Men like me?” he said, leaning forward to lower the front two legs of his chair to the linoleum floor as he stuffed the paper towel scrap in his pocket.

She poured her coffee. “Men like you, reckless and free. Wild with no strings.” The night’s stubble on his chin and his wrinkled unbuttoned shirt did nothing to take away from his solid good looks.

“So, let me get this straight, Doc. You think I’m wild?”

She couldn’t believe he managed to pull off a surprised look even though she caught the hint of a grin.

“I met you while I was patching you up, remember. Must have been a slow night, cowboy. You didn’t go home with a bar butterfly.”

“They’re called barflies, not butterflies, and if I remember that night, I went home with you.”