Cowboy Comes Home

“You’ve never done anything like this before, Lorna. Not even the little stuff that most kids do. So it seems to me that if you felt you had to start a fire, something must be hurting you terribly. If you tell me what’s wrong, we’ll do whatever we can to fix it.”

Lorna looked up at her then, her gaze bleak, almost hollow. “Nobody can fix it.”

“Nobody can fix what?”

But the girl didn’t answer. She lowered her head again.

Anna wanted to reach out and touch her, but she wasn’t sure that would be the right thing to do. Lorna had isolated herself emotionally, that much was apparent, and a touch might be truly unwelcome.

“When I was your age,” she said finally, “something horrible was happening to me, and I couldn’t figure out how to stop it.

Finally I ran away from home for good, but that really didn’t fix much. In fact, it made some things worse.” She realized she had Lorna’s attention now, so she continued. “Looking back at it now, I realized I should have trusted some of the adults in my life. I should have told them what was happening, because any one of them could have helped me. But I didn’t. And that was a big mistake.”

Lorna glanced at her, then looked quickly away without saying anything.

“Just give us a chance, Lorna. The sheriff and I both really want to help you.”

“You can’t. Nobody can.”

“You can’t know that until you let us try.”

Lorna stood up so suddenly that her chair fell over backward. “I want to die! All I want to do is die! Nobody can help me. Nobody at all! Go away. Go away before you get hurt!”

Anna hesitated, but Lorna turned suddenly to the door and started beating on it, screaming, “Get me out of here! Get me out of here now!”

Shaken, Anna watched helplessly as the deputy took Lorna back to her cell. When she felt she could trust her legs to hold her, she went downstairs to Nate’s office.

“Well?” he said when he saw her.

She shook her head. “She won’t talk to me. But she said something very strange. She told me to go away before I get hurt.”

“Was she threatening you?”

Anna shook her head. “Can I sit down a minute? My legs are still shaking.”

“Help yourself. So she wasn’t threatening you?”

“I didn’t get that feeling.” She sank gratefully into the chair. “But something is terribly, terribly wrong, and I got the distinct feeling that someone has threatened her.”

He nodded, compressing his lips grimly. “Yup. That’s about the only reason I can figure that she’d want to stay in a jail cell. Now we have to find out who and why. Damn!” He passed his hand over his eyes, then drummed his fingers on the desktop.

“I’ll talk to her friends,” Anna offered. “The kids she always hung out with in the youth group. Maybe they can shed some light on this.”

“You do that. I’d talk to ’em myself, but I don’t want ’em to clam up for fear of getting Lorna into more trouble.” He gave her a crooked smile. “That’s the disadvantage of this uniform.”

“I’ll let you know if I find out anything. And will you let me know how the bail hearing goes? Maybe she won’t make good on her threat.”

“If she does, it’s going to be a long night for her. God, I can’t see leaving a young girl like that in a cell. We don’t even have proper facilities for it. What if my men have to bring in some drunk tonight to sleep it off? Or worse?” He shook his head. “Hell, if it comes to that, I’ll take her home with me. In custody. Maybe Marge and the girls can get to the root of it.”

Anna nodded. “That might be a good idea. But no matter what, Nate, I wouldn’t send her home.”

He arched a brow at her and nodded slowly. “That’s what I was thinking. I got a feeling there’s something very wrong there. But I have to have something to go on, Anna. I can’t just stick my snoot in without something.”

“I know.” Nor could she. But she could certainly call Lorna’s friends.

A few minutes later she headed back to the church. The wind had grown cruel, and she had no trouble believing there would be sleet later on. The sky was leaden now, with no hint of the autumn sun left anywhere, and the last of the dead leaves were sailing across sidewalks and lawns. The town already looked deserted, as if it had settled down for its long winter sleep.

Dan Fromberg had returned, and greeted her the instant she stepped in the door. “Candy’s okay,” he told her, coming to stand in the doorway of his office.

“Wonderful!” She hung her jacket on the rack and rubbed her hands briskly together.

“I made fresh tea,” he told her, pointing to the drip coffeemaker they used for brewing tea. “You look like you need to warm up.”

“It’s gotten really bitter out there. Oh, I forgot!

I need to go lock the church door. I left it open for Hugh.”

Dan shook his head. “He checked with me a minute ago, and I locked it.”

Anna felt disappointed to realize she’d missed him. She immediately scolded herself for the feeling. “What did he say?”

“It looks like we’re going to need some major work done. He says we need to replace the insulation in quite a few places, so escaping heat under the eaves doesn’t cause the snow to melt, then turn into ice. He also pointed out some spots where the roof is concave, and it’s trapping the snow rather than letting it slide off.”

“That does sound expensive.”

He grimaced. “I’m going to have to dip very deep into the building fund, but at least we can afford it now.” Last spring, when they really should have had the work done, the fund had been nearly empty, having been used for repairs to the foundation. Good Shepherd Church was aging. “But first I’m going to get another estimate to compare.”

Anna poured her tea and cradled the cup gratefully. “Did he mind?”

Dan shook his head. “He suggested it, actually. He’s a very honest guy, you know.”

She nodded and sank gratefully into her chair.

“So you went up to the sheriff’s office? What happened?”

She outlined matters as briefly as she could and watched as his mouth drew into a thin line.

“This doesn’t sound good,” he said when she concluded.

“I’m going to call some of her friends tonight and see if any of them have any idea what might be wrong.”

“Good idea.”

Jazz whimpered just then, and Dan squatted down to take her out of her cage. “Hey, little one,” he said softly. “How’re you doing? Did you piddle on your paper?” He looked over his shoulder at Anna. “I can’t believe anything’s wrong at home,” he said. “Bridget and Al are both the nicest people.”

She nodded, and Dan looked down at the puppy he held.

“On the other hand,” he said, “none of us ever really knows another person.” Straightening, he turned to her. “So, have you had lunch?”

“No.”

“Me neither. I’ll go out and get us something from Maude’s diner. In the meantime, why don’t you see if any of Lorna’s friends are home from school yet?”

He handed her the puppy and put fresh newspaper in Jazz’s box before he left.

The pup seemed content to curl up on her lap while she sipped tea and dug out the roster for the youth group. One by one, she started calling the girls who seemed closest to Lorna. Only one of them was at home yet, and she said she hadn’t really talked to Lorna in a while.

“She’s gotten kind of quiet, Miss Anna, but I don’t know why. She doesn’t hang out like she used to. But I can’t believe she actually started that fire at school. Everybody’s talking about it. It just isn’t like Lorna.”

“So she hasn’t found a different crowd of friends?”

“No. She doesn’t have many friends at all anymore. I mean…well, we all still like her, but she doesn’t want much to do with us.

We ask her to go places with us, and she always says no. I always have a pajama party for my birthday, and Lorna always comes. Not this last time, though. She was the only one who didn’t. When I asked her why not—I mean, I felt really hurt—she said she just didn’t feel like it.”

“So there’s nobody at all she’s close to anymore?”

“I don’t think so. Debbie said she thinks Lorna’s just getting snobby because her dad’s a dentist. Mary Jo argued with her about that and said Lorna just isn’t feeling good lately.”

“Did Mary Jo say why?”

“No. And that’s all I know, really. You want me to talk to the others?”

“Thank you, but I’ll do that.

If you think of anything, let me know?”

After she hung up, Anna found herself looking down at the puppy in her lap, thinking about how trusting young animals were, and how easy it was to shatter that trust. Something had shattered Lorna’s trust.

Dan came through the door on a gust of cold wind, carrying a big brown bag from Maude’s. “Steak sandwiches,” he said. “I don’t think either of us will want dinner. Which is okay with me, because Cheryl took the kids to Cheyenne this morning to visit their grandparents.”

“So you’re baching it?”

“Fine by me.” He set the containers down on her desk and took his coat off. “I love those kids to death, but every once in a blue moon, it’s nice to watch what I want on TV.”

He pulled the chair closer to her desk while she cleared papers to one side, then set out containers full of food. Not only had he gotten the steak sandwiches, but he’d brought a salad, and brownies for dessert.

“Did you find out anything?” he asked while they ate.

“Nothing really useful. Apparently Lorna’s even withdrawn from her friends.”

He paused in the process of taking a bite of his sandwich. “Now that’s really not good.”

“That’s what I think.” She found she didn’t feel hungry at all, but in order not to appear ungrateful, she nibbled at the salad.

“You know,” Dan said presently, “I can think of a lot of things short of mental illness that could have caused this change in the child, and none of them are pretty.”

“I know.” That killed the last of her appetite. She absolutely didn’t want to think about those things, but she couldn’t avoid it. Experience had taught her that bad things could happen to people you knew, including yourself. For Anna, they weren’t just newspaper stories.

“Anna?” Dan was looking at her with concern. “Would you like to quit early today and go home? You look really strung out.”

“I’m okay. Just worried about Lorna. I think I’ll go to her bond hearing at five.”

“It’s at five? I’ll go, too. Maybe I can get something out of her parents.”

“I hope you have better luck than Nate did.”

“Nothing, huh?”

She shook her head. “And frankly, I don’t expect anyone will get anything out of them.”

“You seem awfully certain about that.”

“I have my reasons.” And more than that she would not say.

Chapter 3

Cowboy was disappointed when he finished inspecting the church roof and Anna still hadn’t come back. Not that he had any business being disappointed. Anna

Fleming was two or three cuts above the women who usually consented to spend time with him. And since deciding to clean up his act and get on with life, he was avoiding the women who didn’t avoid him.

He was kind of ashamed of himself anyway, ashamed of the way he’d fallen apart. He knew as well as anybody that post-traumatic stress disorder wasn’t something you opted to have, but he still felt weak for having had it. Nothing had happened to him in his life that didn’t happen to a whole lot of people, but he’d come apart at the seams anyway, after the Gulf War. It had been one straw too many, so to speak.

Not that he was excusing himself. He never excused himself. And it wasn’t that he felt he’d done anything wrong. He’d been a soldier doing a soldier’s job. But nightmare images eventually gave rise to nightmares.

Still, he wasn’t particularly interested in wandering down the paths of his own memory lane. Learning to look forward was one of the biggest hurdles he’d had to clear on his road to recovery, and he wasn’t going to allow himself to backslide.

After he gave Dan Fromberg the roofing estimate, he made his way back to his one-room apartment on the second floor of a hotel that was almost as old as Conard City. Not that that was so godawful old, he supposed, but the building bordered on ancient.

It must have been a grand old hotel in its day, he often thought, near enough the train terminal to be convenient, but not so close that its patrons would have been breathing coal smoke and the aroma of cattle in the stockyard awaiting shipment. In fact, it was just about midway between the courthouse and the terminal. The way people were apt to lay things out in the days when your own two feet were the favored form of transportation.

What a person mainly noticed about the place now, though, was that the halls were dark and musty, the stairs and floors creaked and it looked like a firetrap.

His apartment was different, though. In the old days, they’d believed in building rooms big. He had a huge living room, an alcove for his bed, a tacked-on kitchenette and a bathroom with a claw-footed tub. His tall windows overlooked the street and faced south, so that sunlight poured in all winter long. All of this for less than anything else he could have rented in town.

If he hadn’t been so fixed on his plan for a youth ranch, he could have turned this place into something spectacular.

But this afternoon, with the sky so leaden and a sleet storm getting ready to move in, he was finding it just a bit difficult to remember the potential he’d seen here. The hallway and stairs were as dark as if it had been night, and his apartment wasn’t much better. He turned on a couple of lamps, but it didn’t help much. The early-winter night would be falling soon, and all of a sudden he didn’t want to be sitting here alone.

He decided his budget could handle dinner at Maude’s, so he pulled on a warmer jacket and drove back up the street toward the church and Maude’s place, which was right across the street from Good Shepherd. By the time he reached the diner, night had fallen.

Maude’s was brightly lit but nearly empty. He slipped into a booth that let him look out the front window, and as he scanned the menu, he saw Anna and Dan leave the church together and get in their cars.

Anna’s was an old vehicle, one that had seen all its better days long before it had come into her possession. It was big, built like a tank, and she backed up cautiously before pulling out of the parking lot and heading up the street. He realized she hadn’t brought the dog, and he wondered if she was going to leave it in the office all night. That didn’t seem right.

But then he noticed that she wasn’t heading toward her home. Instead she turned up to the courthouse square. So did the reverend.

Shrugging, he went back to the menu. Maybe they had a meeting to go to.

“What’ll it be, Cowboy?” Maude asked in her usual belligerent fashion as she slapped a mug of coffee down in front of him. She was a plump, older woman with grizzled gray hair and a no-nonsense face. “Eat hearty.

They say it’s gonna get damn cold tonight.”

“Sleet’s in the forecast.”

“Yup. And don’t skip the pie, neither. We got an elderberry pie that’ll knock your socks off.”

“Save a piece for me, then.” He gave her a smile, but she didn’t return it. He wondered if anyone had ever seen Maude smile. “Two bacon cheeseburgers with extra fries and a bowl of spinach, please.”

“Spinach?” She looked surprised.

“If you have it.”

“Oh, I have it, but most folks want salad.”

“I like spinach.” He shrugged.

“Why don’t you have a side of onion rings instead of them extra fries? We got a shipment of some really good sweet onions.”

“Sounds good.” He’d never eaten here when Maude hadn’t changed his order somehow. On the other hand, he’d never regretted following her suggestions.

She stomped away, leaving him to sip his coffee and stare out into the night. It was warm in here, he found himself thinking. Warm. Despite the threatening weather, people would come and go.

He figured he might stay here a while.

He was certainly in no hurry to go back to his empty apartment.

The five-o’clock bail hearing for Lorna Lacey was a special session called for the child’s benefit. The court’s earlier business was finished, and no other prisoners stood in the dock.

The girl herself, hands handcuffed before her, sat with her head down at the defense table. Beside her sat an attorney Anna didn’t recognize, apparently someone the Lacey family had brought in from another town. Sam Haversham, the prosecutor, was standing at his table skimming through a thin file. Probably Lorna’s file, Anna thought.

It was amazing how quickly you could develop a file when you got in trouble with the law.

Apart from herself and Dan, the only other observers were Bridget and Al Lacey, both of whom were sitting with Dan in the front row. Anna sat farther back, preferring to be unobtrusive. Besides, she hated courtrooms. They gave her the willies.

At the front of the room, the court clerk sat at her desk beside the judge’s bench, and in front of the witness box sat a stenographer, feeding the leading edge of a fresh stack of fan-folded paper into her machine. Two bailiffs stood to the side, chatting quietly with Nate Tate.

The door to the judge’s chamber opened, and one of the bailiffs called out, “All rise” as Judge Francine Williams walked to the bench. Lorna, Anna noticed, had to be encouraged to stand by a gentle tug on her elbow. When the judge sat, everyone followed suit.

Judge Williams sat and spent a moment glancing over some papers in front of her. “Good afternoon.” She devoted a few minutes to reciting the case number and charges for the record, and having the attorneys identify themselves.

“Now,” she continued, “let’s get right to the point, shall we? We all know why we’re here, and I’m willing to dispense with the usual formalities, if no one has any objection?”

“No objection, Your Honor,” both lawyers answered immediately.

“Good. I’m sure everyone wants to get home for dinner. We have an unusual case here, unusual at least for Conard County. We have no facilities suitable for the keeping of a thirteen-year-old girl. Our limited juvenile facilities are set up only to handle boys, and I really don’t want to see this child in the county jail overnight, so I’m going to ask the prosecutor to be reasonable in requesting bail. Mr. Haversham?”

“We’re fully prepared to be reasonable, Your Honor. In fact, considering that Lorna Lacey has never been in trouble before, we were prepared to agree to have her released on her own recognizance. However, another fact has come to light, which I need to bring to the court’s attention.”

“And that is?”

“Miss Lacey told Sheriff Tate that if she is released on bond she will start another fire.”

Anna’s hands clenched in her lap.

Judge Williams looked at Nate. “Is that true, Sheriff?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She turned her attention to Lorna’s attorney. “Mr. Carlisle, what’s going on here?”

The lawyer cleared his throat as he rose to his feet. “A moment to confer with my client, Judge?”

“By all means,” the judge said. “Be advised that if your client made such a threat, I won’t be able to release her from custody. Would you like to straighten that out for me?”

“Certainly, Judge.”

The lawyer sat back down and had a hurried, hushed conversation with Lorna. Anna found she was holding her breath, and her nails were digging in to her palms. Her heart squeezed when the man stood back up to speak.

“My client…is aware of the consequences of her statement,” he said.

“Does that mean she’s not taking it back?”

“I…for ethical reasons, Judge, I…ah…”

A sound passed through the courtroom then, a sound of muted dismay. Bridget Lacey looked as if she might cry.

Judge Williams sat back, a perplexed frown on her face. “You leave me no choice, young lady.”

Sam Haversham stepped forward. “Your Honor, we have an alternative to propose. Sheriff Tate has offered to take Miss Lacey home to his family in custody so that she won’t need to spend the night in jail.”

“That’s highly irregular.”

Francine Williams tapped a pencil on the bench, frowning down at the girl. Finally, she sat forward. “Off the record here.”

The court reporter’s hands dropped to her lap.

“Mr. Haversham, I’d like you to consider a grant of immunity here.”

Anna leaned forward, holding her breath. What was happening?

Sam stepped forward. “I think I know what you have in mind, Your Honor. I’ll offer immunity.”

Williams looked over at the young girl. “Miss Lacey, you’ve been offered immunity for any answer you give to the questions I’m about to ask. That means whatever you say is off the record and can’t be used against you in any legal proceeding. Do you understand that?”

Lorna’s attorney added a quick, whispered explanation. Lorna nodded.

“Good,” Judge Williams said. “Now, Miss Lacey, are you telling me you want to stay in jail?”

“Yes.”

“But why?”

Lorna lifted her head then, looking straight at the judge, and the anguish in her voice caused Anna’s heart to break. “Because I’m bad! I do bad things! And I’ll keep on doing bad things! I tried to burn down the school! If you give me a chance, I’ll try to burn it down again!”

When Lorna finished, she dropped her head to the table and sobbed.

The judge let out a heavy sigh. “I’d like to see counsel in chambers, please.

Miss Lacey, I’d like you to come, too. And, Sheriff Tate, I think you’re going to need to hear this, as well, if the defense has no objections?”

Mr. Carlisle hastened once again to his feet. “No objection, Judge. That’s fine.”

“And, counsel, I imagine her family hired you?”

“Yes, Judge.”

“You know where your ethical duties lie here, right?”

The attorney put his hand on Lorna’s shoulder. “She’s my client, Judge. I made that clear to the family.”

“Make sure you remember that.

Let’s go talk this over.”

Anna had the feeling everyone in the courtroom knew what was coming. The type of thing you didn’t say out loud, in public. The type of thing no one wanted to hear about someone they knew. The kind of thing Anna knew all too well.

As soon as the group had disappeared into the judge’s chambers, Al Lacey rose and walked from the courtroom. He looked at no one as he left. Anna felt her stomach turn over in revulsion as she watched him go. Bridget followed a few moments later, her face set like stone.

Dan came to sit with Anna. “I’m praying I’m wrong, but the handwriting is about six feet high on the wall, isn’t it?”

She nodded, battling a storm tide of emotions that all of this was raising in her. “That poor child,” she managed to say finally. “That poor, poor child.” Long-buried anger simmered in her stomach, making it hurt.

“It could be something else.”

Anna didn’t even bother to reply. She’d given up on vain hopes a long time ago. “Why didn’t somebody keep him from leaving?”

“Al? I don’t think they can detain him without some kind of proof. That’s probably why Judge Williams took Nate into chambers with them. If Lorna says anything about what’s going on, Nate will take action.”

Anna folded her hands tightly together. “I hope she tells the judge. Oh, God, I hope she tells.”

Dan reached out and gently touched her shoulder. “She might not, Anna. There are an awful lot of people in that room, some of them strangers to her.”

“I know.” And she did, only too well. Some things just couldn’t be spoken of, no matter how they tore you apart. There were some things just too awful to tell strangers. “If she doesn’t tell them, Dan, I’m going to do everything in my power to find some proof, some evidence. We have to help her!”

“We could be wrong in our supposition,” he reminded her gently. “The problem might not be her parents at all.”