The Sheriff

“Top-notch,” Vera chimed in. “Why, you could eat your dinner off Ouida Tankard’s floors.”

“Problem is, they’re not staying at Ouida’s.”

“Then where are they staying?”

“At the restaurant.”

Puzzled by the answer, J.J. asked, “What restaurant?”

“The Tico Taco. The people who were leasing it moved out last week, left in the middle of the night owing two months rent. I tried to talk her out of staying there, but she was determined.”

J.J.’s boots hit the floor, and he swung around on his stool. “Do you mean to tell me that you went off and left them at that Mexican joint on the old highway?”

“She insisted. Reminded me that she owned it.”

Vera rolled her eyes and muttered, “Men! Leaving Mary Beth on crutches and with that baby to tend to. Why, I’d bet my bottom dollar the sorry bunch that ran the place didn’t even leave a scrap of food in the place.”

“Hell’s bells, Dwight!” J.J. slapped a couple of bills on the counter and stalked off, grabbing his hat from the rack on his way out the door.

“Wait! Wait, J.J.,” Vera yelled. She came running after him with three small cartons of milk cradled in one arm and a bag in the other. “Here’s some milk and doughnuts. You bring them to town for a decent meal. I’ll bet that poor lamb is starving.”

J.J. cursed Dwight Murdock all the way to the Tico Taco. For a smart lawyer, sometimes that old man didn’t have the brains God gave a billy goat.

Chapter Three

“Mommy, Mommy, are you awake?” Katy asked as she shook her.

Mary Beth opened one eye. “I am now.”

“I have to go to the Señoritas, and somebody is knocking on the front door.”

Groaning, Mary Beth struggled from the position she’d slept in. Her knee was stiff and her neck had a terrible crick in it. The banging on the door would wake the dead. How could she have slept through it? “I’m coming! I’m coming!”

Katy began dancing from one foot to the other. “Mommy, I’ve gotta go. Now.”

Since Katy’s need seemed more critical, she took her to the washroom, splashing cold water on her own face while they were there. The racket was still going on when they came out.

Not taking time to locate a robe, she grabbed one of the tablecloths and wrapped it around her, sarong style. But the blasted thing fell off before she got to the door, tangling around one of her crutches as she darned near went sprawling.

“Hold your horses!” she yelled. “I’m coming as fast as I can.” She unlocked the shaded front door and opened it a crack. There stood J. J. Outlaw breathing fire.

“Dammit, have you lost your cotton-pickin’ mind?” he shouted.

She felt as if he’d smacked her in the face with a bucket of slop. “I don’t think so,” she said in a tone that would have frozen a rump roast. “I’ve lost just about everything else, but my mind seems intact, thank you very much.” She slammed the door and turned the dead bolt.

He started knocking again. “Mary Beth, let me in.”

“Eat dirt.”

“Mommy, who’s that outside?”

“That’s Sheriff J.J., sweetie.”

“Aren’t you going to let him in?”

“No. He said a rude word. Besides, I’m still in my nightshirt. How about we get dressed and I’ll fix breakfast.”

“He’s making an awful lot of noise.”

“I know. Just ignore him, and he’ll go away. Would you like an omelette?”

“With cheese?”

“Absolutely.”

“And orange juice?”

“We don’t have any orange juice, honey, but I can make you some more chocolate milk. Will that be okay?”

Katy nodded, then glanced anxiously at the front door. “I think we should let Sheriff J.J. in. He sounds mad. He might put us in the pokey.”

“Not likely. And don’t say pokey. Tell you what, let me get my clothes and go to the washroom, then you can let him in. Okay?”

Katy looked relieved. “Okay.”

Mary Beth grabbed a few things and hobbled away. She hurriedly brushed her hair and her teeth and dressed in a blue T-shirt dress and one sneaker. She even took time to dab on a bit of blush and some lipstick—though she couldn’t imagine why. It wasn’t as if she cared how J.J. saw her.

She glared at her reflection. You are the worst liar in seven states. Her heart was practically doing a tap dance at the notion of seeing J.J.

When Mary Beth came out, Katy was sitting on the bar that ran along the wall separating the dining area from the kitchen. J.J. stood beside her, one boot heel hooked over the bar rail. Katy was eating a doughnut, and J.J. was grinning at the little scamp.

“Hi, Mommy. Sheriff J.J. brought us some doughnuts. They’re good. Want one?”

“I thought we were going to have a cheese omelette.”

Katy looked sheepish. “I forgot.”

“Just one doughnut, young lady. No more. You shouldn’t have too many sweets.”

“Sorry about that,” J.J. said. “Vera from down at the City Grill sent them. And some milk. She was afraid you didn’t have anything to eat. Tell the truth, so was I.”

“The former tenants must have decided that they didn’t have room to take both booze and food when they hit the road. Luckily, they cleaned out the bar, except for a few liqueurs, and left the food. The menu might be a bit limited, but we have plenty to eat.”

“What’s booze?” Katy asked.

“Grown-up drinks,” Mary Beth said.

“Like coffee?”

“No, stronger than coffee. Speaking of coffee, J.J., do you know how to work that coffee machine? I’d love a cup. I was too tired to figure it out last night. Have you had breakfast?”

“No. I thought I’d take you to the City Grill for a bite.”

“Thanks, but I’ll fix that omelette I was planning.” She turned and headed for the kitchen.

“Still think your mommy is upset with me?” J.J. asked.

Mary Beth heard Katy whisper, “I don’t know, but you should ’pologize for saying a rude word. I always have to ’pologize.”

In the kitchen, she fired up the monster of a stove and laid out eggs, cream and cheese. In no time, she cooked a perfect large cheese omelette and divided it among three plates, giving a small portion to Katy.

“Need some help?” J.J. asked behind her.

“Yes, thanks. Carrying things is a problem with crutches.” She put the plates and forks on a tray, along with mugs for coffee, and he carried it to a table.

He glanced at the remnants of their bedding. “That where you slept last night?”

“Yes. It was quite comfortable.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I’ll bet.” He got a booster seat for Katy from a spot near the cash register and lifted her into her place at the table. He brought over a steaming pot of coffee and poured mugs for Mary Beth and himself. He also brought a small carton of milk and a straw for Katy.

“Thanks,” she told him.

“No problem. And I’d like to apologize for saying a rude word earlier.”

“Apology accepted.”

J.J. glanced at Katy and winked. She giggled.

After he’d taken a couple of bites, he said, “This is really good.”

“Thanks. Sorry I can’t offer toast or croissants, we’re fresh out.”

“We don’t have any orange juice either,” Katy said. When Mary Beth frowned slightly at her, she added, “But this milk is very good, Sheriff J.J. And Mommy made chocolate milk for me last night.”

J.J. didn’t say much until Katy finished eating and left to find a puzzle in her bag of toys. Then he said, “Mary Beth, I hope you’re not planning to spend another night in this place.”

“Actually, I’m planning on spending several. For the time being, this is our home.”

“Hell’s bells, Mary Beth, you can’t—”

“J.J., don’t tell me I can’t. I own this property and I don’t have any other options but to stay here. My family is all gone, I’m just about broke, and until I get my foot out of this cast, I can’t work. We’re staying here,” she said firmly. “It’s mine and it’s free.”

“But you have friends in town, and I’ll bet that my brother—”

“No, J.J. Until I can stand on my own two feet again, we’re staying here, and that’s final. There’s plenty of food in the freezer, and we have utilities for another couple of weeks.”

“Mary Beth, that doesn’t make a lick of sense.”

“It does to me. The matter isn’t open for discussion.”

“Dwight said you were hidebound and determined.”

“He’s right.”

“How long before your cast comes off?”

“About another week.”

He sighed and shook his head. “Well, I guess staying here for a week won’t hurt. Do you need any groceries or anything?”

“There’s quite a bit of food here, but I would appreciate it if you could pick up some milk and bread and eggs for me. And a jar of peanut butter. Katy adores peanut butter.”

“Anything else?”

“No, those are the essentials. Except for a mousetrap.”

“Got mice?”

“I don’t know, but I heard some suspicious sounds last night.”

J.J. reared back in his chair. “Might be rats instead of mice. Big ones. You might want to rethink staying here.” His expression was just short of smug.

She fought a shudder. “Uh-uh. Won’t work. I’m not going to be chased away by rats—either the two-legged or four-legged variety. Just get a bigger trap. Let me get my purse.”

“I’ll spring for the stuff,” he said gruffly.

“I’m not ready to accept charity.”

“Don’t go getting your nose all out of joint. I’m just being neighborly. That’s the way we do things around here in case you’ve forgotten.”

A sudden lump formed in her throat and she swallowed hard. “I haven’t forgotten,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

Their eyes met for a moment, then he glanced away and rose quickly, clearing his throat. “Thanks for the omelette. I’d better get a move on. Got work to do.”

He grabbed his hat and was gone before she could get to her purse. J.J. was a truly nice man. And still sexier than buttered sin. If all those years ago, he hadn’t—

She sighed.

But he had and that was that. She called Katy to help her take the dishes to the kitchen.

“I like Sheriff J.J.,” Katy said as Mary Beth loaded the dishwasher. “He’s nice.”

“Yes, he’s very nice.”

“He said he had a niece and a few about my age that I could play with sometime. What’s a niece and a few, Mommy?”

Mary Beth smiled. “I think he meant a niece and a nephew. The children of a person’s brothers and sisters are called nieces for girls and nephews for boys. They must be his brother Frank’s children.”

“Can we play today?”

“Maybe not today, but soon.”

“We don’t have any nieces and nephews of our own, do we?”

“Nope, sweetie, sorry. I don’t have any brothers and sisters, so I don’t have any nieces or nephews, and you don’t have any aunts or uncles on my side of the family.”

“I have an aunt. Aunt Isabel.”

“Aunt Isabel is just a very good friend in Natchez. She’s like an honorary aunt.”

“Oh. Is Aunt Katherine my ornery aunt, too?”

Mary Beth was tempted to say that Katherine was as ornery as they came, but instead she simply said, “No, Aunt Katherine is your daddy’s sister, so she’s a real aunt and you’re her niece.”

“I don’t think Aunt Katherine likes me.”

“Do you remember Aunt Katherine? You’ve only seen her once, and that was a long time ago.”

“She had a red mouth and looked mean at me.”

Yep, that was Katherine, the witch. Brad’s only sister had breezed into town, hired a lawyer for him, then breezed back to the social scene in Philadelphia. She had made it abundantly clear that she didn’t want to see or hear of any of them again. The whole sordid affair—embezzlement, jail, scandal—was dreadfully embarrassing to her. It had been embarrassing for Mary Beth, as well, but she hadn’t had the luxury of breezing off anywhere.

“Mommy, can I have another doughnut?”

“Not right now. Maybe later.”

There was another rapping at the front door followed by a feminine “Yoo-hoo. Anybody home?”

Now who could that be? Mary Beth wondered as she dried her hands and made her way to the dining area.

Two older women stood there with foil-covered dishes. They looked familiar, but—She suddenly remembered one of them. “Mrs. Carlton?”

Mrs. Carlton, her next-door neighbor from childhood, beamed. “Yes. And it’s so good to see you again, Mary Beth. You’ve grown into a lovely woman.” She hugged Mary Beth with her free hand. “Your mother would be so proud of you. This is my sister Opal McMullen. She moved here six years ago when her husband died. We’ve brought you a little something—homemade rolls and a squash casserole. I know how you used to love my homemade rolls, and I had some in the freezer. Found a squash casserole in there, too. Made just last week, and Opal brought a pint of her strawberry preserves. Nobody makes strawberry preserves like Opal.”

The women set the food on the bar and chatted a few minutes after oohing and aahing over Katy. Soon another car pulled up with another of her family’s former neighbors, bearing a ham and two quilts. Then came the minister’s wife with potato salad and a pillow with a lace-edged pillowcase. Mary Beth was excited to see her old friends and was warmed by their hometown hospitality. She hugged them all and gushed her thanks and reminisced with those who called.

When a very pregnant Dixie Anderson, an old and dear friend from high school, showed up at the door, Mary Beth let out a whoop. Dixie’s dark hair was cropped short instead of being long and lush, and her face was rounder, but Mary Beth would have known her anywhere.

“Dixie Anderson!” she squealed as they hugged. “How wonderful to see you!”

“It’s not Anderson anymore. Russo now. I married Jack Russo the year after we graduated. Golly, it’s good to see you, too. When I heard you were in town, I parked my two-year-old in mother’s day out, and here I am. I brought you some chocolate-chip cookies. My brood eats them by the bushel.” She set the box on the bar. “Looks like you’ve already made a haul. I expect you’ll be up to your a-double-s in cakes and casseroles before nightfall. Everybody was tickled to death to hear you were back in town. Ellen has an appointment, but she’ll be over as soon as she can shake free.”

Dixie hugged her again. “Golly, it’s good to see you. Nobody had heard a thing from you after we read that your mother and daddy had died in that plane crash a few years back. We were sorry to hear about that. And this must be your daughter,” she said, smiling at Katy who was hiding behind Mary Beth. “She’s the image of you when you were that age.”

Mary Beth laughed. “I can’t even remember that far back. Yes, this is Katy. She’s not usually shy. I think she’s overwhelmed with all the folks who have dropped by.” She coaxed Katy from her hiding place. “Katy, this lady is Dixie Russo. She was one of my very good friends when I used to live here. We were cheerleaders together.”

“Hello, Katy. I brought a present for you.” She reached into her tote bag and brought out a coloring book, crayons and a package of stickers.

Katy’s eyes lit up. “Thank you very much.”

Dixie laughed in the wonderful rich way that Mary Beth remembered. “You’re very welcome. You’re much more polite than my herd.”

“How many children do you have?” Mary Beth asked.

Dixie rubbed her stomach. “This one makes six.”

“Six? Good heavens, how do you manage?”

“Some days I wonder that myself.”

Mary Beth settled Katy at a table and offered Dixie a cup of coffee. No sooner had they gotten settled and started to catch up on news of the town than a pickup truck drove up. Wes Outlaw, the former sheriff, got out carrying two grocery bags. A gray-haired version of J.J., he’d gained a thickness around his belt that showed his enjoyment of Nonie’s cooking. His deeply lined face was that of a man who had spent too many days in the Texas sun.

“Morning, ladies.” He smiled broadly. “Mary Beth, you’re a sight for sore eyes. Welcome home. I’ve come with milk and bread and eggs and peanut butter. Plus a few other items that Nonie added to the list. Keep your seat. I’ll put the stuff in the kitchen and set the traps.”

“What traps?” Dixie asked.

“Don’t ask,” Mary Beth said. “Sheriff Wes, it’s so wonderful to see you. Do I get a hug?”

“You betcha. Let me take care of this first.”

When he left for the kitchen, Mary Beth turned to Dixie. “Tell me about your family.”

Dixie didn’t need much coaxing. She obviously loved her husband and kids. Jack Russo owned an insurance company and was on the school board, and the Russo brood, except for the two-year-old, were all in elementary school. “Two of mine are the same age as Ellen’s children. She’s divorced, you know. And selling real estate. Doing right well.”

“No, I didn’t know. I’ve lost touch with everyone.”

“Well, you’re back home now, and that’s all that matters. I gather that you’re divorced, too.”

“Yes,” she said simply. Even though Mary Beth and Dixie and Ellen had been very close friends who told each other everything, she didn’t want to relate all the grisly details of her life with Brad.

When Sheriff Wes—Mary Beth couldn’t bring herself to call him anything else—rejoined them, he collected his hug and took a cup of the coffee she offered, along with a cookie, and reminisced for half an hour or so. After another cookie, he stood. “If you ladies will excuse me, I have another couple of pickups and deliveries to make. I’ll see you later.”

Ellen rushed in as he was on the way out. “Mary Beth!” she squealed, her arms open wide. “Puddin’, I can’t believe it’s you!”

When Ellen grabbed her, Mary Beth’s tears began to flow. She’d kept herself together until now, but she couldn’t keep it up any longer. She was blubbering like a baby and laughing at the same time. Maybe it was hearing that old nickname or seeing Ellen and Dixie again, or maybe she was crying because she’d held back her tears as long as she could, but she couldn’t stop.

She and Ellen held each other for a long time.

“God, it’s good to see you, Mary Beth. You look fabulous! I bet you haven’t gained a pound since high school, and I’ve put on at least ten.”

Dixie snorted.

“Oh, all right,” Ellen said. “Twenty. And if I don’t stop squalling, I’ll look like a raccoon.” She began fishing in her purse.

“Too late, Tammy Faye,” Dixie said, plucking several paper napkins from the dispenser on the table and passing them around. “The mascara has run amok.”

“You don’t look like a raccoon,” Mary Beth said, dabbing her eyes and blowing her nose. “You look gorgeous, as always.”

Ellen had always been a beauty. She had put on a bit of weight and her hair was blonder and her makeup thicker, but she was still a stunning woman in her smart red suit and high heels.

It was like old-home week. They fell into conversation as if they’d talked only yesterday. How good it felt to see her old friends, to feel as if she belonged again.

They both stayed for lunch, put together from her new stores of food, then Dixie had to leave. “I’ll drop by tomorrow,” she promised.

Ellen lingered. “I hate to see you staying here, Mary Beth. You’re welcome to stay with me. My couch makes into a bed, and you and Katy—”

“No, but thanks. We’ll be okay here until I can figure out something. I was hoping that the property would be income-producing, but as you can see…” She fluttered her hand.

“I know. The old motel is a mess. It’s been listed with my company for ages, and there hasn’t been a nibble. And the people who were leasing the Tico Taco just couldn’t make a go of it. Too much competition. Another Mexican restaurant on the new highway just opened last month, and there was already one next to Bullock’s Supermarket on Second Street.”

Mary Beth sighed. “That’s a shame. Well, maybe some other sort of restaurant might consider leasing the place. It seems to be in pretty good shape.”

Ellen took her hand. “Don’t count on it, Puddin’. The market is pretty well saturated and the location isn’t the best. I’ve gotta run. I have an appointment to show a house, but we’ll think of something.” She hugged her again and wiggled her fingers as she hurried out the door.

Mary Beth didn’t have much time to think about anything for the steady parade of old friends who stopped by. None of them came empty-handed. She had enough homemade pickles and pies and casseroles to last for months. And her former Sunday-school teacher, bless her heart, showed up with two roll-away beds.

“Mommy,” Katy had asked, “is it Christmas already?”

“No, sweetie. Christmas isn’t for a long time. Why do you ask?”

“’Cause so many nice people brought presents to us.”

“It is like Christmas, isn’t it?” Mary Beth smiled and hugged her daughter. “And these very nice people are old friends from when I was growing up here. It’s a custom to bring food and gifts if someone is sick or if there’s a funeral or if someone is new to town. This is their way of being neighborly, of welcoming us to Naconiche.” And she had felt welcomed. These were old friends, caring people holding open their arms to her. Their offerings hadn’t felt like charity at all. It was simply small-town neighborliness, and she’d love being able to spend a bit of time with every one of them and renew old ties. She kissed the top of Katy’s head. “I feel very welcome, don’t you?”

Katy nodded. “I like it here. Are we going to stay?”

“I think so. At least for a while. Would you like that? You don’t mind living in a restaurant?”

“It’s kind of funny, but remember what you always say?”

“What’s that?”

“We can think of it as a ’venture.”

Mary Beth laughed and hugged her again. “Yes, it’s really an adventure. Dixie tells me that there’s a preschool at the church. How about we get you enrolled so you can have some children to play with.”

Katy’s eyes lit up. “When? Now?”

“I’ll call tomorrow.”

Her daughter threw her arms around Mary Beth. “I love you, Mommy.”

“I love you, too, Katy.”

THAT EVENING after a sumptuous dinner, Mary Beth sat on a bench out front of the restaurant and watched Katy chase lightning bugs.

“I got another one, Mommy!”

“Wonderful! Bring it here and put it in the jar.” She opened the top, and Katy dropped the glowing insect inside.

“I’ll get some more,” Katy said, bounding off. “This is fun.”

“Catch one more, then it’s time to get ready for bed.”

Mary Beth smiled, love welling up as she watched her daughter run off with endless energy. For the first time since she’d learned about Brad’s awful crime, she began to feel at peace. And hopeful. Coming here had been good. Getting back to her roots and being among people who cared for her was renewing her strength. This old place might not be much, but it was hers, and somehow she would make something of it—and of herself. For so long it seemed that things had gone from bad to worse, one catastrophe after another. Now, deep inside, she sensed that she’d turned a corner and her life was going to turn around.

That was before the first clap of thunder.

And before the rain.

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