A Christmas Affair

The deputy smiled. “Travis, meet your nearest relatives.”

Travis thought of bolting, but it was like looking at the freaks at the circus. He was afraid to blink.

The wrinkled uncle grinned and removed his hat that said CAP. “Hello, son, I’m your Uncle Cap, Cap Fuller.”

“Of course you are.” Travis took his offered hand, wondering what the other two would be named—probably Slim and Crazy.

“We’re sorry about your folks,” Cap said, without letting go of Travis’s hand. “We’ll do the best we can for you while you’re here.”

The bony one took a long step like he was crossing a line in the sand and committing himself to sudden death. He removed his cowboy hat and nodded. “I’m Dice, Dice Fuller. You’re a fine-looking boy. How old are you, son?”

“Almost sixteen.”

“I would have guessed older, maybe seventeen. You got old eyes.” Dice looked him up and down as if there would be a test later. Height, weight, hair color.

Travis decided he liked the thin man—unless, of course, Dice was planning on frying him up for supper. He probably hadn’t had a meal in years.

The third uncle was chubby and looked like he’d spent way too much time staring at the refrigerator light. He didn’t speak, but he smiled at Travis like the criminally insane might. The guy had too many teeth to be normal and his lips looked like rubber bands pulled tightly between fat cheeks.

In fact, none of them seemed normal. That one point probably confirmed they were kin to him.

About the time Travis had decided to run, a uniformed man stepped into the room. The deputy straightened slightly.

The stranger, who had kind eyes, introduced himself as Sheriff Brigman. “I know this isn’t going to be easy on you, Travis, and I want you to remember that I’m right here if you need me.” He turned to the uncles. “You’ve all made changes to make this work.” He looked at Travis. “This won’t be like home, son, but if you give it a chance it won’t be so bad.”

Travis lowered his head, not wanting to say anything. The last time he saw the trailer he called home, there was trash everywhere, broken furniture and blood. Even the uncles’ place probably wasn’t that bad.

Cap shook the sheriff’s hand. “Thanks for your help, Dan. If you’ve no objection, we’d like to keep him out of school until the new year? Let him get used to the place and us. He’ll stay at Horace’s house with Dice at night, but they’ll drop him off at my place across the street on the days they’re working. Among the three of us, we’ll do our best to keep up with him.”

“You guys work?” Travis was shocked. They all looked old enough to be drawing Social Security checks.

Cap turned to him, talking slowly, as if there was a language barrier between them. “I retired from teaching several years ago, but I still help out at the retirement village. The manager needs my advice often. And as a former captain of the volunteer fire station, I’m called in to handle problems. I’ve even been known to work crowd control for the sheriff from time to time. It seems to be in my DNA to take charge in emergencies.”

Typical teacher. Ask him the time and you get a lecture on how the watch works.

“You ride, son?” skinny Dice Fuller asked.

“Horses?” Travis thought of yelling that he wasn’t any of their sons, but he’d save that tantrum for later. Four-to-one odds didn’t look so good.

“Yeah, horses. We don’t usually ride the cows.” Dice chuckled.

“Nope. Never had the chance, but I’ll give it a try.”

“I’ll teach you. A man oughta know how to ride.”

“How about drive? That’s important, too. I’ll be old enough to get my license next year.” Travis saw the first ray of hope. If these old guys would teach him to drive he wouldn’t have to run away; he could drive. Then he could really go places, live in his car, much safer than the streets. If he didn’t like the place he landed, he’d just drive away.

Dice leaned his head sideways, as if swashing water to brain cells he hadn’t bothered using for a while. “You learn to handle a horse and then we’ll take on a car. Fair enough.”

Travis smiled. “Fair enough.” This prison wasn’t going to be so bad. In three, maybe six months he’d learn all he needed to know and be driving out of here.

Free, he thought. And these three old guys would simply think they forgot where they put him.

CHAPTER FOUR

ONE WEEK TO the day after Maria Anne Davis kissed Wes Whitman, she walked back into his store with her arms loaded down with boxes of jars. Wes rushed to help her and accidentally brushed her arm as he took half the load.

“Sorry,” he said, remembering she didn’t like help.

“That’s all right,” she answered with a shy smile.

Then she turned away as if he was no more than a stranger again. As if they hadn’t kissed. As if he hadn’t spent hours thinking of what he should have done.

He knew all about running a store; he’d learned from his father. He could make small talk with customers and stand back in crowds until he seemed invisible. Wes knew how to live an orderly life, but he had no idea what to do with Maria.

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