Wife Wanted in Dry Creek

Chapter Three

Katrina turned around and looked through the window into the garage. Fifteen more minutes had passed and the sheriff was still talking to the boys. She hadn’t noticed until now, but someone had turned on a radio and a big band tune was playing softly. She saw the radio sitting on a green file cabinet behind the desk. She hadn’t heard the soft static of a radio in years. It must have been Conrad’s uncle who thought of the music since he was standing over there looking pleased with himself.

She looked up at the older man’s lined face. “Thanks. Dance music always cheers me up.”

She tapped her hands against her leg in time to the music just to show him she was feeling better.

The old man’s face lit up. “I had a hunch you might be a dancer. Conrad dances, too, you know.”

Katrina heard a garbled sound over by the door. Conrad had his hands in his pockets and a look of panic on his face. She half expected him to open the door and rush outside to check the gas pumps, but he didn’t.

“In junior high,” he muttered to her instead and then gave a dark look to his uncle. “I don’t dance now.”

“It’s like riding a bicycle,” the old man said as he bobbed his head to the beat of the music. “It’ll come back to you.”

“I fell off my bicycle. Remember?”

“Well, at first, but you got the hang of it,” his uncle said and then paused. “Later.”

Katrina wondered if dance moves did come back. “I took some ballet in junior high.”

Conrad shot her a look of pure terror. “I could never do ballet.”

“Nonsense,” his uncle said. “You got back on that bike until you could ride it. And you suited up as a clown at the last rodeo. That takes more nerve than ballet.”

“I only did it because the real clown didn’t show and the riders needed someone to be in the ring with them in case they needed help.”

“So you’d risk your life to help an old cowboy,” his uncle said. “But when it comes to bringing a little pleasure into a beautiful woman’s heart, you fold.”

“Well, I suppose I could dance if someone’s life was on the line,” Conrad conceded.

“You never know what you can do until you have to,” Katrina agreed. She knew the two men were trying to keep her mind off her troubles and she appreciated it.

“I ran into a burning building once,” Conrad offered. “Never thought I’d be able to do that. It was more of a shed than anything, but—”

His face had more color now that they’d stopped talking about dancing.

“That was a fool thing to do,” his uncle scolded. “That old cat never did appreciate it. She scratched you up good. You could have gotten an infection.”

“Well, she’d gotten tangled up in some string and couldn’t get out. I couldn’t just let her die, now could I?”

“No, I suppose not,” his uncle agreed. “I’ve done reckless things, too. I can remember when I went skinny-dipping at the church picnic when we all used to meet at the Big Dry Creek. I was a young daredevil of seven and I thought I was far enough away. Almost didn’t get my clothes on before some ladies came down to see how high the water was in the creek. And there I stood dripping wet in my shirt and pants. Looked like a fool.”

No one said anything for a bit.

“I never thought I’d have the courage to face getting arrested,” Katrina finally added to the list. “But here I am.”

She looked around. Everything in the office was neatly squared off, the stack of invoices on the desktop. The white binders named with different motor companies. Even the way the file cabinets were arranged. The place was pleasantly warm, too, and she had one friend here. Conrad’s uncle seemed to believe she was innocent.

“That sheriff won’t arrest you,” the older man muttered. “He has to stand for reelection in this town. I guess he could hold you for a few days, though.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “He’s only doing his job,”

Then the door from the garage opened and the sheriff came into the office. “I’m sorry. That took longer than I thought it would.”

He didn’t close the door to the garage area.

“Are the boys okay?” she asked as she stepped over to try and see them. The lights were off in the garage and only the subdued sunlight that filtered through the windows made it possible to see. The boys were sitting inside the car again. She could see the tops of their little heads.

The sheriff nodded. “Yeah, they’re doing fine. That older one’s pretty sharp.”

Katrina had no choice but to turn back and look at the lawman even if she wasn’t ready. He had a stern look on his face and it made her think he was expecting the worst. Well, she was expecting something pretty awful, too. And it would be happening to her, not him.

She didn’t see Conrad take a few steps closer to her, but she heard him. She looked up and saw him standing next to her with the same resolve in his face as the lawman had on his. Only Conrad was directing his glare toward the sheriff instead of her.

She took a deep breath. Maybe she had two friends to stand beside her.

“It could be that the plates are stolen,” she said to the sheriff. She tried to keep her voice from pleading. “Maybe the car thieves took Leanne’s plates and put stolen ones on her car just to confuse things.”

“It could have happened that way,” Conrad said.

The sheriff raised his eyebrow in surprise and looked at Conrad for a second before bringing his eyes back to her. “Those boys said you promised them money if they’d come with you today. Did you cross any state lines?”

“No, and I was only going to give them quarters. One for each picture I took with them in it.”

She tried to smile at the sheriff.

He didn’t return the courtesy. “The oldest one seems to think he’ll have enough money to buy something called a Guzmoo or Gazmoo. Sounded like a military tank.”

“It’s a video game and I assure you he isn’t going to make that much.”

Katrina realized that might not make her look good, either, so she added, “I never told him he’d make enough for one of those things. He just got carried away. Besides, they’re my nephews. My sister’s boys.”

“The sister with the car?” the sheriff asked.

She nodded. “Leanne Britton. Well, Rain Tree now. She’s married to—”

“Walker Rain Tree,” the sheriff filled in with a nod. “He sent word through a friend that the car was stolen. Walker lives down on the Crowe reservation. I’ve seen him here and there. Used to work construction in Miles City. Big guy.”

Katrina had only met her brother-in-law once and that was before Leanne married him, but she didn’t want to bring that up right now. She couldn’t imagine why he’d report that Leanne’s car was stolen. Or why Leanne hadn’t stopped him.

“Jobs have been hard to find,” Katrina said. “My sister says he hasn’t worked much in the past year.”

“That’s got to be difficult,” the sheriff said, studying Katrina. “You got employment somewhere yourself?”

Conrad stepped so close she could feel his arm next to hers. “Having a job—not having a job. It’s not a crime.”

Katrina was glad to have Conrad beside her.

The sheriff looked at Conrad again, his eyes narrowing this time. “I thought you didn’t know this woman.”

“He doesn’t,” Katrina said. “He just worries about justice being done and—” She waved vaguely. “Things in general.”

The lawman grunted. “That’s Conrad, all right.”

Then the sheriff turned his attention back to her. “These boys, they don’t seem too sure about you. They say they just met you yesterday. Aunts usually know their nephews, at least by the time they’re six.”

She heard censure in his voice.

“Well, I’ve been busy. And, my sister and I have had our problems.” She looked at the sheriff. She didn’t want to say those problems involved Walker. Katrina had opposed the marriage and her sister hadn’t forgiven her. That didn’t have anything to do with the car anyway. “We really just need to call my sister and straighten this all out. Like I said, these probably aren’t even her license plates.”

“Since Walker is the one who had someone report the car as stolen, I need to clear it with him,” the sheriff said. “You’ve got the phone number?”

“Of course,” Katrina said. “It’s the house number. Neither one of them have cell phones. But my purse is in the car and the number is in there on an old receipt. I’ll get it for you.”

“I’d rather have someone else bring your purse out of the car,” the sheriff said. “If you don’t mind, that is?”

Katrina got the feeling it didn’t matter if she minded or not.

“I’ll get it,” Uncle Charley said as he walked over to the open door leading to the garage.

“There’s some sandwiches in the front seat,” Katrina called out to him as he walked through the doorway. “Those boys are probably hungry. Tell them I’ll bring them some juice in a minute or two.”

She hoped the sheriff noticed that she was trying to take care of her nephews.

“I’ll bring you your coffee back, too,” the older man said from inside the garage.

“Those boys will want a hot meal,” Conrad said quietly beside her. “When we finish here, I’ll take the three of you to the café for breakfast. My treat.”

Katrina felt her eyes grow damp again. Really, this man was being very nice.

Then Conrad said, “The sheriff can’t take you to jail until someone comes for the boys anyway. If he can’t reach the parents, he’d have to call Children’s Services in Billings.”

Well, that was an effective douse of cold water, Katrina thought, as she stepped away to look up at her betrayer. Instead of having his eyes aimed at her, though, Conrad had them focused on the sheriff.

It was clear from the twist to the sheriff’s mouth that he hadn’t given any thought to what would happen to the boys if he arrested Katrina. Of course, she knew Leanne would be over here in a few hours once they called her, but the sheriff didn’t.

He just stood there.

“I don’t think I’ve ever arrested someone who had kids with them,” the lawman finally said. “I wasn’t really planning to put her in jail right now anyway. At least not without checking out her story. We have to pay Miles City for room and board every time we give them a prisoner. It adds up.”

“Don’t worry, Leanne will vouch for me,” Katrina said and then stopped. It had already occurred to her that Leanne and Walker might be off somewhere together. Or maybe they’d had a fight and that’s why Walker said the car was stolen. Maybe Leanne was in the Lexus and Walker in his pickup. Either way, they might not get back to answer the phone until late tonight.

“The children seem to check out,” the sheriff conceded. “And I’m not keen to pay Children’s Services. Travel. Meals. And they always take their time. We’re over our budget as it is.”

Conrad pressed his point. “Then while you make your calls, you won’t object to me taking Katrina and the boys to the café for something to eat?”

The sheriff shrugged. “It’s your dime.”

“I can pay,” Katrina said.

“Don’t let her convince you to let her go free, either.” This command was given to Conrad. “That’d be a mistake.”

“Of course not,” Conrad said. “I’m just doing what needs being done.”

Katrina tried not to let that sting. She should know he was only doing his duty by her. He probably had something in his code of honor that said he had to stand by any weeping women who faced the law in his gas station. She couldn’t worry about that now, though.

“And be sure she doesn’t call anyone on that phone of hers,” the sheriff continued.

She reached into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out her cell phone. “Here. It’s not even on. Keep it if you need to.”

The sheriff took it and put it in his own pocket. “It’s just until I check things out.”

Then she saw Charley start walking back from the car. He had her purse in one hand and her youngest nephew, Zach, in the other. Her older nephew, Ryan, was following behind them.

The boys were looking a little scared.

She glanced up at the sheriff. “There’s no need to talk about arresting me in front of my nephews. They don’t need to be any more upset than they are.”

The sheriff snorted. “The only reason they might be upset is that they think I’m going to stop you from giving them their quarters. That’s what they wanted to know about. Besides I wouldn’t talk about arresting anyone in front of their kids if I could help it. Or even just holding them for questioning, either.”

“Well,” Katrina said with a nod. “I appreciate that.”

“I’m not the bad guy,” the sheriff added. But he still held his hand out for her purse when Charley brought it in the office.

“I can open my own purse,” she said.

“Got to check it out for—you know,” he said with a meaningful look at her nephews.

Which, of course, stopped her protest. She didn’t want him getting specific.

Instead, she smiled at the boys. “Everything’s all right.”

Both boys were still frowning.

“Of course it is,” Conrad added with enough confidence that the boys relaxed.

The sky was spitting rain by the time Conrad grabbed his jacket and got everyone ready to go over to the café. Uncle Charley had already gone ahead and the sheriff was sitting outside in his car filling out paperwork. The lawman hadn’t gotten an answer when he called the number on the back of that receipt. Conrad figured the man couldn’t finish his report until he at least talked to Leanne and Walker, though.

Conrad put the Closed sign on his door.

“What if someone needs you?” Katrina asked when she saw what he’d done. “You can’t just close your business in the middle of the day. You’re the only gas station here.”

He shrugged. “The pumps work with a credit card. And everyone knows to look for me at the café if they really need help and I’m not around here.”

Katrina shook her head. “This isn’t how it’s done in Los Angeles.”

“I expect not,” Conrad agreed as he opened the door. So that’s where she lived.

Conrad took a deep breath when he stepped outside. The air smelled of damp earth and the sky was dark gray. There’d be no more sunshine today. He had only one umbrella so he turned and gave that to Katrina. Little boys never minded rain.

“My mom says we can’t walk in the mud unless she says it is okay,” Ryan announced after he stepped out the door. The tin roof of Conrad’s shop covered the concrete slab around the gas pumps, too, but the area beyond that was getting wet.

“Walk on the road,” Conrad said. Katrina and the youngest boy had come out behind Ryan and waited on the slab. “There’s no mud on the asphalt.”

“Maybe we could go off the road a little,” Ryan suggested hopefully as he stepped to the edge of the pavement. “I can carry my shoes so they won’t get dirty. I see a worm out there.”

Katrina turned around. “You don’t want to get the floor of the café all muddy when we go to breakfast.”

Conrad laughed. What boy that age was worried about a floor? “That worm is long gone. Besides, you’ll have to keep your feet and your shoes clean if you want your aunt to take your picture. Your clothes, too.”

“Oh,” Ryan said with a nod. “I guess so.”

Conrad kept his hand on the boy’s shoulder as he led the way to the café. “People don’t really take that many pictures around here. We’re too close to the Black Hills, I guess. They get more striking pictures there.”

“Are we going there, Aunt Kat-rr—” Ryan gave up on the name and just looked up at her. The boy seemed anxious and Conrad watched him carefully as he continued. “You’re still going to take our pictures, aren’t you?”

Conrad relaxed. The boy just wanted his quarters. He was greedy, not afraid.

“I hope so, sweetie,” Katrina said softly as she guided Zach down the street.

She held the umbrella over her head, but the rain slanted in sideways and Conrad could see that her hair was getting damp. He hoped her black jacket didn’t get too wet. Her jeans would survive a soaking, but the leather looked imported. She had probably gotten it at Rodeo Drive down in Beverly Hills. He was getting ready to caution her to be careful of the rain, when she stepped over a crack in the asphalt in her high heels and he forgot all about the weather.

He almost had to stop and catch his breath again. The sight of those black patent leather straps wrapped around her delicate ankles made him think of the grand Hollywood movie stars of old like Marilyn Monroe. Those shoes of Katrina’s were all steam and sizzle. He hoped that none of the ranch hands from the Elkton place were at the café. They’d see those shoes as an invitation to flirt shamelessly. She even had her toenails painted a deep red. He’d never seen feet look so pretty in the rain.

“I have some boots you can borrow,” he said.

Katrina turned around, a stricken expression on her face. “You’re right. I can’t go to pri—” she stopped herself. “I couldn’t go with the sheriff in my high heels. I meant to put tennis shoes in the trunk, but they’re in my car—not my sister’s.”

“They’re nice shoes,” Conrad felt obliged to say. He wasn’t the kind of man to be taken in by nice footwear, however. He hoped that, if there were any ranch hands at the café, they didn’t decide to help her get out of town before the sheriff got all his information. Some of them would do that for a woman wearing shoes like that.

They finished walking down the road together.

“Nice place,” Katrina said as they started walking up the steps to the café porch. There was an overhang so rain wasn’t hitting them where they stood. Katrina lowered her umbrella and shook it out. Ryan was already up to the door and Zach was holding on to Katrina’s leg.

“I’ll carry the umbrella in for you,” Conrad said, but all he did was stand there looking at her. He told himself he was making sure no one could tell she was suspected of a crime before they went inside. He didn’t know what clues he was looking for, though.

Strands of Katrina’s hair were wet and hanging down. She was no longer as perfect as she had been when she drove into his gas station and he liked her better for it. Drops of rain glistened on her cheeks. Her eyes were warm and a little shy.

If this were one of those old Hollywood movies, Conrad decided he would be saying something romantic about now. He tried to make the notion go away, but it lingered in his mind. It was just that all of the talk lately about him getting married was stirring around in his mind. He needed to put it to rest. She certainly wasn’t the kind of woman he intended to become involved with. He already knew she was trouble. She cried. She liked old bent-up signs. She shouted to make herself heard by an old man she thought was deaf. She drank cold coffee. He wanted to like his wife, not love her. He’d learned how much love could hurt when his mother died. Katrina was just too intense for him.

And she had rain dripping down her cheeks. He reached out and wiped a drop away.

“It’s not another tear,” she said. “I was just caught by surprise earlier. I’m really not that much of a crybaby.”

Another raindrop slid down her cheek and he caught that one, too. Her skin was cool and smooth like polished marble. “You had cause.”

She seemed surprised at that. He winced. He had no business saying something like that. He needed to bury his emotions. For all he knew, she could be lying about her sister—and the car. She might not be striving to be a photographer or a good aunt. She might even have known he was the kind of guy to give away a new muffler to someone who couldn’t pay for it. She might be playing him for an old fool.

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