Soul Mates

“He is still blaming me for driving Sonny to ruin,” Nate commented.

“Of course he is. Lester isn’t the kind of man who’s big enough to admit to his own failings and mistakes. It has always been someone else’s fault that his boy was worthless. It was the fault of bad weather conditions and plummeting cattle-market prices that caused him to lose his shirt in the ranching business.”

Fuzz shook his head. “Nope, you couldn’t convince Lester Brown that his laziness, his lack of ambition and lack of discipline for himself, and Sonny, caused his misfortune, not even if you dedicated an entire month of your life to explaining it to him…Why the sudden interest in Lester? Did you run into him already?”

Nate squelched his frustration and ignored the taunts still buzzing around his head. “Yeah, Lester and John Jessup headed up the unwelcoming committee when I drove into town to open a bank account and fill out the forms to have mail delivered to this address.”

Fuzz stared grimly at Nate. “Don’t let Lester get to you. I warned you that he would be on your case, along with his comical sidekick, Jessup. That was the first test you had to pass. You’ll have to turn the other cheek when those two lay into you.”

“They already did, twice today,” Nate confided.

Fuzz stared at Nate for a long, pensive moment. “Why don’t you just tell them flat-out why you came back? Maybe they would cut you a little slack.”

This wasn’t the first time Fuzz had questioned Nate’s strategy. Personally, Nate didn’t think the reasons for his return to Coyote Flats would change the low public opinion of him. No, Nate had to do things his own way, in his own good time.

The first phase of Nate’s crusade was already in place. He had constructed this spacious house on the site of his birthplace. He had convinced Fuzz Havern to share his home, rather than puttering around in that tiny garage apartment the retired sheriff rented after his wife died eight years earlier. Nate knew Sally Havern’s long bout with cancer had drained Fuzz’s savings account and plunged him into debt. Fuzz’s retirement pension barely covered expenses. Convincing Fuzz to move in with him was Nate’s way of repaying this man who had seen to it that a troubled kid had a chance to turn his life around.

Nate had specifically designed this house so Fuzz would have a private living area, bedroom, bath and kitchenette in the west wing. Of course, Fuzz could make use of the rest of the house any time he felt like socializing with Nate. That was the deal—no rent, no utility bills. Fuzz could stock his kitchenette with his favorite foods, buy personal supplies and maintain his pickup truck. Nate took care of everything else.

Although Fuzz had insisted on sharing a larger portion of the living expenses, Nate wouldn’t hear of it. This was his way of repaying a tremendous favor, and Fuzz just had to accept that.

The patter of canine feet on the kitchen ceramic tile prompted Fuzz to glance over his shoulder. He rolled his eyes as Taz trotted into the living room to shove his snout under Nate’s hand, demanding a pat on the head.

“I gotta tell ya, Nate. That is the ugliest mutt I’ve ever laid eyes on.” He regarded Nate shrewdly. “Is Taz the same kind of charity case I am?”

Nate stroked the affection-starved mongrel that was a cross between a blue heeler, border collie and German shepherd, but his full attention was riveted on Fuzz. “Let’s get one thing straight here,” he said firmly, directly. “You are not a charity case. You are, and always were, the only man in this Podunk town who gave a damn about me. When I was a kid, you saved me from a few beatings at my old man’s hands.”

“But there were times when I wasn’t around to stop them,” Fuzz murmured regretfully.

Nate didn’t particularly want to revisit those hellish memories. Living the nightmare was bad enough. Being knocked around, stepped on and locked out of the house for punishment was behind him now. His daddy hadn’t been anyone’s idea of a role-model parent, that was for sure. Gary Channing had done his stint in Vietnam, and the hell he’d endured screwed up his life royally. Nate wasn’t about to make excuses for his old man, who took his torment out on his kid, but the more he read about the trauma suffered by war veterans, the more he understood that Gary Channing was too busy battling his own demons to offer guidance to his son.

All Nate received from his father was a hefty life insurance policy that had been bought and paid for by his father’s parents. When Gary died in prison seven years earlier, Nate had acquired a financial base to invest in the oil industry, where he had been working for the previous three years.

It was Bud Thurston and Fuzz Havern, ex-marine sergeants, who had vouched for Nate when he applied for the job working endless hours on the oil rigs. Nate had been praised by his new employer for his hard work, respectfulness and cooperation.

Bud and Fuzz’s behavior modification program had worked like a charm. It was Bud who first employed Nate on the ranch west of Odessa and taught him to work and to be responsible for equipment and machinery. Fourteen-hour days, seven days a week on Bud’s ranch and on oil rigs was no picnic, but it left Nate no time to revert to his old ways. Nate had been too exhausted to do anything except plop his aching body into bed and sleep.

During those years on Thurston Ranch Nate had strung miles of barbed wire fences, had been launched off the backs of more ornery horses than he cared to count. He had been run down, kicked and stepped on by jittery cattle during roundup. But he had always managed to hoist himself to his feet to face another exhausting day.

Oh, yeah, Bud was one hell of a taskmaster, but Bud had been fair, honest and straightforward. He hadn’t put up with any crap from Nate or the other boys delivered to his care, and Nate had every intention of repaying “Sarge.” The firstborn calves from Nate’s cattle herd, which was presently grazing in the surrounding pastures of the property he had purchased the previous year would become a gift to Bud Thurston.

Nate Channing fully intended to repay every kindness extended to him. Furthermore, he was going to find a way to turn Katy Bates’s life around. He couldn’t abide by what she had done to herself—or rather, what some maniacal beast had done to her.

Nate continued to stroke the mongrel’s broad head. “I ran into Katy Bates in town this morning.”

Fuzz winced. “Did you?”

Nate’s gaze narrowed on the retired sheriff. What caused that reaction? he wondered.

Fuzz stared out the bay window, which provided a panoramic view of cattle grazing in the pasture. “You, I managed to rescue in time. She, I couldn’t,” he said regretfully.

A knot of apprehension coiled in the pit of Nate’s belly. He really didn’t like the sound of that. “Tell me about Katy.”

Fuzz arched a thick brow and smiled knowingly. Nate figured he must have given himself away by the way he murmured her name.

“She’s another reason you came back to town, isn’t she?” Fuzz nodded thoughtfully. “I figured as much, but you didn’t mention her name when you gave me that sales pitch about how you wanted me to move into this palace with you and help you out by checking on your cattle herd while you were tied up with overseeing the construction of your local branch office for your Sunrise Oil Company.”

Fuzz flicked off the television and settled himself more comfortably in the easy chair. “You really had it bad for that girl when you were a kid, didn’t you? Not that I blame you. Katy was really a vision in those days. Cute as a button when she was in kindergarten, then blossomed into an eye-catching young woman.”

When Nate didn’t respond, Fuzz snickered. “Aw, come on, son. You think I didn’t know how you mooned over that girl? You think the judge didn’t trot into my office and demand that I slap a restraining order on you after he found out the two of you were meeting on the sly?”

Nate’s eyes widened in surprise. He’d had a few confrontations with old man Bates, none of them pleasant. Dave Bates had warned Nate to stay away from his precious daughter, threatened to blow him to smithereens if Nate so much as set foot on the front porch. According to old man Bates, Nate was the worst kind of white trash that ever drew breath and he wasn’t fit to breathe the same air as Katy. But Nate hadn’t known the influential Judge Bates had tried to twist Fuzz’s arm into taking legal action, in attempt to halt the blossoming romance.

“Oh, yeah,” Fuzz said, then chuckled. “Dave bent my ears all the damn time. He claimed you were stalking his daughter, insisted that she was terrified of you. But I knew better. While I was cruising around the school grounds, I saw the way Katy looked at you when the two of you were speaking privately.”

“But you didn’t knuckle under to the judge’s pressure,” Nate presumed.

“No, I told Dave there was no evidence of wrongdoing. I also told him that I had talked to Katy, and she confirmed that you had done nothing whatsoever to deserve a restraining order.” Fuzz grinned wryly. “But I did cruise through that residential section of town enough times to notice that rattletrap car you used to drive was often parked a few doors down the street from Katy’s house.”

Nate squirmed uncomfortably. He’d had it bad in those days. He couldn’t begin to count the nights he had driven to Katy’s neighborhood and sat there in his car, staring at that house, wishing he were welcome. He would sit there puffing on a cigarette, wishing he wasn’t a social pariah, wishing Katy wasn’t off-limits, wishing he had the right to escort her around town and let all the other boys know she belonged to him. Oh, yeah, and he’d also wished he could win the lottery so he could afford to take her out to fancy restaurants, like the kids of Coyote Flats’ high society did when they dated.

In those days Nate barely had enough pocket change to fuel his gas-guzzling, bucket-of-rust car and put food in his mouth. His ill-fitting clothes were hand-me-downs that the United Methodist Women’s Society donated to his family once a year, along with a Thanksgiving basket of food.

It had been humiliating to be dirt poor and to be head over boot heels in love with a girl whose weekly allowance was higher than the salary he made as part-time attendant at the service station.

Embarrassment and humiliation didn’t keep Nate from caring deeply for that warm, sweet young woman who treated him as if he were special, though the other members of her social clique flung up their noses and pretended he didn’t exist. Nate honestly didn’t know what Katy had seen in him back in those days, but she had bolstered his confidence, defended him to her snooty friends, treated him with the kind of respect he had never encountered in Coyote Flats.

Nope, Nate reminded himself. There had been no one like Katy Bates. Every woman he’d been with since then had never measured up to her. She had been kind, caring, supportive and generous of heart. Nowadays, women were easily accessible because of his financial success in the oil industry. But Nate hadn’t had time for lengthy relationships, not when he was obsessively driven to succeed in business, to keep the promise he had made to himself when Sheriff Fuzz Havern had loaded his sorry butt into the squad car and driven straight to Bud Thurston’s ranch. During that late-night drive, Fuzz had told Nate that he was going to get one chance to make something out of his life. If he blew it, he would be on his own.

That long-winded lecture from Fuzz was something Nate had never forgotten. He’d been scared and desperate enough to listen that fateful night.

“Katy has changed drastically over the years, hasn’t she?” Fuzz said, jostling Nate from his pensive musings.

“I almost didn’t recognize her,” Nate admitted. “What happened?”

Fuzz rose to his feet. “I’m going to rob your fridge of a Coke to wet my whistle. Want one?”

Nate nodded as he rose to let the mongrel outside. When he returned, Fuzz handed him an iced-down cola, then sprawled in his chair. “The only reason I can tell you about what happened to Katy is that the two detrimental influences in her life are dead and gone, so you can’t revert to your old ways and beat the hell out of them.”

Nate winced. God, how grim was this tale? he wondered. It must be bad if Fuzz predicted Nate would be tempted to tear off on a mission of revenge.

Fuzz sipped his cola, then focused solemnly on Nate. “I chose to transport you out of town that night, despite the fact that Judge Bates wanted you incarcerated so he could have you delivered to a detention center. From that day forward, the judge took Katy firmly and relentlessly in hand. You already know about Dave’s crusade to pick her friends for her.”

Nate nodded. He remembered that Katy often confided her frustration with her old man. Dave saw his daughter as a reflection on his prominent position in the county. He was convinced that he and his children had a lofty image to uphold. The family was wealthy and high-class, and they were not supposed to associate with white trash, not even in this small community with its cross section of socioeconomic classes. Katy resented her father’s snobbish airs, but Dave ruled his roost with a stern hand, and when he pounded his gavel, he considered his decrees forevermore written in stone.

“Judge Bates decided the Butlers, who owned the big ranch south of town, would make an ideal connection. The Butlers had money coming out their ears,” Fuzz explained. “They also had a son and daughter who were close enough in age to Katy and her brother, James, to make a double match.”

Nate swore under his breath. He had never had a smidgen of respect for the high-and-mighty Judge Bates, who looked down his nose at the less fortunate. But Dave’s patriarchal matchmaking filled Nate with disgust.

Fuzz took another sip of his drink, then continued. “Dave pushed his son at Butler’s daughter, shelling out money so James could escort Shelly to the fanciest restaurants, the best movies and musical concerts held in Odessa.” He glanced pointedly at Nate. “Of course, if James wanted to date someone else, there was no pocket change handed out.”

“In other words, the judge used money to bribe his son into turning his attention to Shelly Butler,” Nate muttered.

“You got it,” Fuzz confirmed. “As for Katy, she was only allowed to date Brad Butler. If anyone else asked her out during high school she wasn’t allowed to go.”

“Brad Butler,” Nate murmured thoughtfully. “Wasn’t he the hotshot football star who went to play at West Texas State for a couple of years after graduation?”

“Right,” Fuzz replied. “Bradley’s dad made generous contributions to the college athletic program to get his kid on the roster. Brad was big and mean and loved full-body contact sports, on and off the playing field.”

The bitter sound of Fuzz’s voice caused alarm signals to clang in Nate’s brain. Sure as hell, he was going to hate hearing what came next.

“With Dave Bates pushing and prodding both his kids, they married into the Butler family. James was married a month after he graduated high school and had a child within the year.”

“A girl who works at the library with Katy?” Nate asked.

“That’d be Tammy,” Fuzz confirmed. “Her mama ran off with another man when Tammy was six, causing the Butlers and the judge all sorts of embarrassment. James only comes around a couple of weekends a month. He is married to his profession as a legal consultant for one of those highfalutin corporations in Dallas. Tammy lives with Katy most of the time.”

“And Katy’s husband?” Nate questioned. The first thing he had noticed when he recognized Katy at the café was that she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. According to what Fuzz had said earlier, Nate knew that Brad Butler had died. “What happened to the football star?”

“Six feet under,” Fuzz said without an ounce of regret. “Same as Judge Bates, who had a heart attack and keeled over on the courthouse steps. Dave and Brad are probably rotting in hell together as we speak.”

No love lost there, Nate noted. It was easy to tell that Fuzz wasn’t a member of Dave or Brad’s fan clubs.

Fuzz squirmed in his chair, clearly unenthused about continuing this briefing. “You got any chips and dip in that fully automated refrigerator of yours?”

Nate smiled faintly as he came to his feet. He remembered how Fuzz had carried on about the ice-and-water dispenser in the door of the freezing unit. The man loved to watch crushed ice plunk into his glass.

“Sure, Fuzz, dip and chips coming right up.”

Chapter Three

Nate grabbed the sack of Doritos and spicy salsa, then strode back to the living room to set the snacks on the end table beside Fuzz. “I’ve been thinking about hiring a cook and housekeeper,” Nate commented. “Do you think Mary Jane Calloway might be interested?”

Fuzz grinned devilishly. “You sly young scamp. You haven’t outgrown your ornery streak entirely, have you. If you hire Mary Jane away from Coyote Café, the whole town will be up in arms. It’s the only decent place in town to eat, the place where Lester Brown hangs out, shooting off his big mouth.”

Nate returned the wry grin. “As I see it, I would be doing Mary Jane a favor. She’s a widow who has a hard time making ends meet. If she comes to work for me, she’ll have shorter work hours and better pay. You think she might be interested?”

“You want me to ask her?”

Nate bobbed his head.

“Done.” Fuzz rubbed his lean belly. “I can almost taste her mouthwatering homemade pies from here. She can make chicken-fried steak and gravy that is to die for. Mmm…and her pot roast—”

“You’re stalling,” Nate broke in. “You were going to tell me about Katy’s marriage.”

Fuzz crammed a chip in his mouth, chewed, then swallowed. “You’re right, son. But I’m not one of those people who gets his kicks from reporting disasters. That was exactly what Katy’s marriage was—pure dee-saster.”

Nate sipped his drink, wishing he could have been there to rescue Katy. But that had been impossible. The night Nate was driven to Bud Thurston’s ranch, Fuzz made him promise not to make contact with anyone in Coyote Flats. Nate suspected Judge Bates would have been waiting for him, looking for any excuse to shove No-Account Nate into the Texas penal system—and keep him there indefinitely. The judge had the power and connections to get it done.

Until today, Nate hadn’t realized the full extent of Fuzz’s intervention. The judge had wanted a quick conviction and jail time. Fuzz had bucked the judge and insisted on an alternative plan. No doubt, Fuzz had promised that Nate would have no future contact with Katy.

Fuzz champed on a few more chips, then sighed audibly. “Well, hell, there is no delicate way to describe Katy’s marriage, so I may as well be blunt. Katy gave up fighting the judge’s domineering decrees after you left town. Her daddy sang high praises to Brad Butler and put on a spectacular wedding that boasted all the bells and whistles. I didn’t have much contact with Katy after her daddy packed her belongings and moved her off to college with Brad. I do know the judge saved Brad’s bacon several times when he was picked up for drunk and disorderly conduct on campus and DWI.”

Nate had a sick feeling in his gut about this prearranged marriage. He suspected the judge had been embarrassed that his son’s marriage had ended in divorce. Therefore, Dave vowed to prevent his daughter’s marriage from reaching scandalous proportions.

“The judge wouldn’t let Katy walk away from her drunken husband, I don’t suppose,” Nate muttered bitterly.

“Of course not,” Fuzz said, then snorted. “Wouldn’t look good for the judge, you know. Katy wanted out, but the judge refused to let her come home, refused to pay her college tuition and living expenses if she divorced Brad. Katy tried to run away and make it on her own, but the judge hired a private detective to track her down in Colorado and bring her back.”

Nate’s opinion of Judge Bates went right down the toilet. Dave’s attempt to prevent Katy’s actions from being seen as a bad reflection on himself was deplorable. He had no concern for his daughter’s well-being or happiness, only for his reputation.

“When Brad got booted off the football team, because of the incident involving rape—”

“Good Lord!” Nate erupted in outrage.

“What can I say?” Fuzz grunted in disgust. “The Butler kid was a creep. I didn’t know all the details until Katy and Brad moved back to Coyote Flats to work on Butler Ranch for his father. I saw Katy every once in a while, sporting a few bruises, but Brad would never let me close enough to question her, always had some excuse about how clumsy she was.”

Nate’s hands curled into tight fists. He had been granted a second chance in life, but Katy had had no chance at all. Her situation had gone from bad to worse after her wedding. Nate’s imagination ran wild, visualizing Brad getting snockered and knocking his wife around for kicks. Apparently the son of a bitch delighted in exerting his strength over a woman.

“No wonder Katy stopped standing up for herself,” Nate muttered. “Her own father manipulated her, then handed her over to an abusive beast. God, I wish I would have been there to go a few rounds with that Neanderthal bully Katy was forced to marry.”

Nate stared at Fuzz, noting the former sheriff’s bleak expression, realizing that, as bad as this tale was, it was going to get worse. Fuzz’s mouth was set in a grim line, and frustrated anger glittered in his eyes.

“Six years ago, Brad and Katy were on their way out to Butler Ranch for Christmas dinner. They had a wreck because Brad was legally intoxicated. He went through the windshield and Katy was trapped in the car, which was wrapped around an electric pole.”

Nate grimaced, realizing what had caused Katy’s limp. “She was hurt badly,” he presumed.

Fuzz nodded. “She was three months pregnant at the time. We cut her from the twisted metal with the jaws of life, and the judge had her airlifted to Dallas for surgery on her broken hip. He paid for the year of physical therapy needed for Katy to walk without crutches or a cane.”

Nate blew out his breath, wishing he could spout the F word a few times. Unfortunately, he had given up saying the queen mother word at the same time he quit smoking. But right now, he would sure feel better if he could chain-smoke and curse a blue streak.

The picture Fuzz painted was so depressing that Nate could understand why Katy’s will to live had been stripped away. His youth had been a nightmare, but her young adult years had been hell. She’d had no one to provide moral support, no one to rescue her from pain and anguish. And so she had drawn into herself, hiding behind a shell, going through the motions of living, existing only in books that lined the shelves in the library. Nate guessed that Katy only read books that guaranteed happy endings. It was her only escape from tormenting reality.

“These days Katy keeps to herself, raises her niece and quietly goes about the business of helping the unfortunate in the community,” Fuzz continued. “If a family is dealing with death or illness, you can count on Katy to arrive at the bereaved family’s home, laden down with food, supplies and flowers.

“Katy moved into her father’s home after his fatal heart attack. She sold the house where she and Brad lived after he was suspended from college. She uses the money she made from the sale to fund the library and aid needy families.”

Nate suspected Katy hadn’t wanted to live in the house where she was knocked around and treated like Brad’s convenient whore. Not that living in the judge’s house was much better. But then, the Bates home was a monstrous structure and a woman who had turned into a recluse had plenty of space to move around.

“Katy took some of the money from her inheritance and set up two college scholarships for high school students who want to make a better place for themselves in society,” Fuzz reported.

Nate smiled ruefully. He couldn’t help but wonder if Katy was providing for the other Nate Channings in Coyote Flats—the down-on-their-luck kids who faced grim futures. That sounded like something Katy would do. Those qualities of kindness, caring and generosity were still there, he realized. Though Katy had cut herself off from the world, it was her nature to help the less fortunate.