Ransom Canyon

“That waiting room is too small,” one of the other farmers said. “She’ll be stacking folks in chairs before long. With all the pregnancies lately, she’ll want to add a birthing room. We can handle a doc coming in once a week, but we need a nurse there full-time.”

G.W. Polk, who farmed next to Hollis, shook his head. “There’s a good hospital in Lubbock. I was born in a car headed that way. To my way of thinking, kids should be born the same place they’re conceived.”

Hollis nodded. “My point exactly. You were born in a car and you haven’t been the same since.”

Staten was distracted by thoughts of Quinn and the way she kissed him, but he tried his best to listen. He rarely participated in the town’s problems, but he always sent a check to help out with any fund-raiser. Every year the chamber of commerce thought up a grand plan to improve the town, but nothing ever really changed. Correction, he thought, the dozen reindeer they’d put up at Christmas on all the light posts along Main looked great.

After an hour, he excused himself and told the men that whatever they decided, he was behind the chamber one hundred percent. He took his time leaving. Reason told him he was being a fool worrying about what time he got to Quinn’s house. She was the same shy woman he’d known all his life. Nothing unusual would happen tonight, and he’d be wasting worry to think otherwise.

For the past five years he had never given their unusual relationship much thought. Maybe because it seemed to have grown naturally with neither of them planning it. He never considered finding another woman, though he knew a few who’d welcome him in their bed if he showed up.

Only, they would come with strings. They’d want eventually to become Mrs. Kirkland, and Staten wasn’t sure he ever wanted that again. Being numb most days was far better than hurting.

Maybe he should just be satisfied with what he had with Quinn. It was good. It was enough. She probably felt the same, even if she had asked to be kissed.

He told himself when he got to her house he’d act exactly the same as he always did. Nothing different. Nothing changed. One little kiss didn’t mean anything.

As he pulled up to her place, he noticed her working in the barn, elbow deep in the engine of her old tractor. Even after all his stops, he’d arrived early. He’d said supper. It wasn’t even five o’clock.

Halfway to her barn he remembered the bag of barbecue in the truck. If she hadn’t already waved, he would have turned around. But it was too late. Maybe she’d rather drive over to Bailee and eat hamburgers or maybe even try something at the café in town. They didn’t have to always do everything the same. He could be flexible. The kiss was proof, wasn’t it?

No, going into a café would seem too strange. They never ate out. They both thought it would seem too much like a couple thing.

“Need some help?” he asked when he reached her.

“No. I’ve about got it.” She stepped down to face him. “Where’s the barbecue?”

“In the truck. I brought beer, too. That all right with you?”

He rubbed away a smudge on her cheek with his finger. The touch was casual, but her eyes watched his every movement.

Stepping out of his reach, Quinn moved toward the house. “I’ll clean up while you get the food.” She was almost to the porch when she looked back and added, “I already set the table.”

He watched her until she disappeared. She’d never seemed quite so nervous around him. Suddenly, he wished he could take back the kiss from last week. He wanted everything to stay the same. They had it good and good was enough.

The shower pipes rattled from down the hallway as he set out the food. The paper containers looked out of place amid her china. He hadn’t given it much thought before, but she always set the table with her few pieces of hundred-year-old china and nice flatware. He tossed the plastic cutlery he’d picked up into the trash.

When she finally joined him in the kitchen, he was halfway through his first beer. He offered one to her, but she poured herself a glass of cold tea instead.

She was wearing a blue silk blouse that floated around her. He liked the look. Something different. Brushing his hand over the soft material, he breathed in her fresh smell. “It seems like I’ve been fighting all week to get back to you.”

“I know how you feel.” She leaned against him. “I missed you, too.”

They sat down where they always ate and filled their plates. He wasn’t sure what she’d like, so he’d bought a pound of every kind of grilled meat the café had. Then he’d tossed in fries and okra for the vegetable.

She asked about the meeting, and he told her the gossip that she probably cared nothing about. Neither ate much. Neither wanted to talk.

Finally, Staten stood. She hadn’t offered to take him to her bedroom, and if he stayed longer, he’d say more than he should.

“I should call it a night.” He reached for his hat. “We saddle up before dawn tomorrow.”

“All right,” she said in a flat tone that revealed nothing as she stood.

He took two steps to the door and remembered how he’d promised he would kiss her goodbye before he left.

With his hat in one hand and Quinn holding their plates between them, he leaned over and kissed her cheek.

When he straightened, he saw a tear roll down her face.

He doubted he’d get an answer if he asked her why she was crying, but it was obvious that he was doing something wrong.

Tossing his hat on the bar, he took the plates from her and set them aside. “I didn’t do that right,” he muttered, more like a swear than an apology.

She waited.

He brushed her shoulders lightly as he leaned in again and touched his lips to hers.

Quinn’s mouth was so soft. Her bottom lip trembled slightly.

His fingers tightened over her shoulders, and he pulled her closer, kissing her lightly until her mouth opened. Then, without hesitation, he kissed her completely.

She didn’t pull away. She simply accepted his advance. He lifted her arms and set them on his shoulders as he continued. If she wanted to be kissed, by hell he’d kiss her.

Slowly, her body melted against him.

He finally broke the kiss, but he didn’t turn loose of her. “Any objections if I undress you?” His hand moved over her back and came to rest on her hip. “I’ve never said so, but I like doing that.”

She leaned her head back as his fingers moved over her blouse. He watched her face as he slowly unbuttoned first her blouse, then her jeans. He liked the way she always left something on for him to finish, and tonight he was doing it all.

Standing before him she closed her eyes as he kissed his way down her body. Then, she took his hand and led him to her bedroom.

They made love slowly, tenderly, as they always did. Only after both were satisfied Staten held her tighter than ever before as though just discovering what a treasure he had in his arms.

When she drifted to sleep, he found himself kissing her. He couldn’t get enough of the feel of her. He’d been starving all week and finally she was beside him, warm and soft. For a while she moved in her sleep, welcoming his touch, but when he deepened the kiss she woke with a jerk.

For a few minutes he held her tight, gently caressing her, whispering her name in the darkness.

When she calmed, he pulled her close. “I want you again if you’ve no objections, Quinn. I don’t want to leave and wait a week to be with you again.”

Her big eyes widened with uncertainty, but she nodded slightly, and he made love to her for the second time. But this time they both knew he wasn’t just loving a woman out of need. He was loving Quinn.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Lucas

LUCAS REYES STOOD in the corner of the cafeteria and watched the mayhem. School was like the gathering of the clans in Scotland at Culloden. He’d read all about the great battle on the moors when the MacDonalds, the Jacobites and the French all met to fight the English in 1746. The English brought rifles and the men of the mighty clans of Scotland were wiped out that day. Highlander blood turned the earth red, and some said the thunder of the muskets still echoed off the hills.

Maybe the cafeteria wasn’t quite that bad, but the cliques were clear. In his grandfather’s day they would have been separated by race, but that no longer played a role. Neither did money. Now the division was more by interest. Each clan at Ransom Canyon High wore the markings of their tribe, though. The geeks, who always seemed to carry more books than anyone else. The jocks in their letter jackets. The cheerleaders with their designer purses and perfect spray-on tans even in January.

Several tiny towns and dozens of ranches fed into Ransom High, so there were more groups than he could name. Lately the goths were making an appearance, along with a dozen or so freshmen who looked like they were straight out of the Harry Potter movies. Big round black glasses and all that.

For a country school, this place was the best, Lucas thought. Folks around poured money into computer labs and libraries for their kids. Where city schools were cutting extra programs, Ransom Canyon High had the best in music and arts. Lucas knew when he headed to college he’d be prepared.

The idea of learning, without the cliques around, excited him.

“Hi, Lucas,” Sarah Rodriguez said as she circled him.

“Hola, Sarah,” he answered. He’d known Sarah most of his life and she’d always been sweet. He almost hated to see her grow up and join one of the groups. Maybe she’d be one of the few, like Lauren, who kept her own identity.

“My folks are having a belated New Year’s party this weekend. You coming with your folks?”

“If I get off work in time. I’m riding for the Kirkland ranch all weekend. He’ll have us working cattle until dark, but I’m not complaining. He pays great.”

The bell rang, and she started off. “See you, if you make it in.”

He waved back, thinking that with her three older brothers, she was comfortable talking to guys. Sarah was pretty, like her mother, with long midnight-black hair that hung down to her waist, but Lucas couldn’t help but think he was starting to prefer sunny blond hair that fell down straight without a hint of a curl and bangs long enough to shade eyes framed in glasses.

Lucas glanced across the cafeteria as Lauren left a table where she’d been studying alone. Despite the noise, she read her history book while she ate her sack lunch. Her blond hair had curtained her off from the world. He thought of catching up with her but decided not to.

Somehow in all the talk about what had happened at the Gypsy House last Saturday night, Lucas had fallen out of the picture. Reid Collins had told everyone about how he saved Tim and Lauren, about how they were trapped at one point, about how Tim almost died. But Lucas’s part in the whole thing must have gotten left on the cutting room floor.

He didn’t care. If kids knew he’d been there, they’d only ask him questions, and at some point, his account of the night and Reid’s would cross.

Better to let Reid tell the story. Tim wouldn’t be back at school for another week or more, and by then the topic would be past tense. Lauren was so shy, he was sure she wouldn’t talk about it. If Tim had any brains left, he would say he couldn’t remember how it all happened, so with luck the whole thing would be yesterday’s news very soon.

Lucas walked toward class, smiling. He’d remember the blood debt Lauren owed him. Maybe someday he’d tease her about it. And, he remembered kissing her. She was the first girl he’d really liked that he had kissed. He might be leaving after summer for college, but he’d remember Lauren long after he forgot everyone else at this school.

He rushed alone down the emptying hallway, feeling proud that he’d managed to stay out of any cliques. He saw no point to them. High school was only a passageway to what he wanted in life, nothing more.

To his surprise, Lauren caught up to him and fell into step beside him. For several seconds they just walked, but he slowed his pace a bit to match hers.

“I want to talk to you,” she finally said without looking at him. “The story of what happened Saturday night has changed so much I don’t even think I was there. Now Reid Collins claims Tim was hanging on by a thread, and we could all hear the ghosts whispering. I would have probably broken both legs in the fall from the window if he hadn’t caught me. And—”

“I know,” Lucas interrupted her. “According to Reid, I wasn’t even there. Which is fine with me.”

She stopped and turned to him. “But you were there. You saved my life. Reid can lie all he wants to, but I’ll never forget. I owe you a blood debt.”

“Let Reid’s legend live, querida. You and I will remember and that is enough.”

“Like the kiss at the hospital. Between you and me, right?”

“Right.” He smiled, remembering.

“It was the best kiss I ever had.” She laughed.

“It was the only one you’ve ever had,” he teased. “When I find you in a few years, I’ll ask you again how I compare and see where I stand then.”

She blushed and ran ahead of him into her class.

Lucas stood watching her disappear, knowing they were both late but not caring. She’d forget about him, but he’d remember Lauren. She’d be the only girl he’d ever call darling in any language. Funny thing was, Lauren would probably never know just how special she was.

“Reyes?” Mr. Paris, his math teacher, snapped. “Are you planning on joining us this afternoon?”

“Of course,” Lucas answered. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

He wasn’t sorry at all, but Mr. Paris didn’t need to know that. Being late because he was talking to a girl didn’t compute in the old guy’s world.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Yancy

YANCY GREY HAD worked ten days straight at the Evening Shadows Retirement Community and loved every minute. The first few evenings he’d cleaned out an old office that stood apart from the rest of the bungalows. The front of the building was lined with dirty windows with a long counter separating the lobby area from the back storage and living quarters. A tiny, windowless bedroom and bath ran across part of the back. The living quarters were barely wide enough to fit a full bed, but it was bigger than his cell had been.

Originally, in the ’50s, this place had been a motel, boasting that every cabin had a kitchen, bath and sun porch. Eventually, the sun porches had been enclosed to make living rooms, and the bungalows had been rented by the month. Oil field workers and seasonal farmhands had taken over the place, but the owner had never bothered repairing any of the buildings. Finally, he’d let them sell to pay his back taxes.

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