Second Chance Cowboy

“Someone taller drove her car last,” he said. “She work on her own car?”

Arlene’s laugh had an edge to it. “And ruin her nails?”

He sniffed the steering wheel, then got out and checked the hood latch.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Engine grease on the steering wheel. Whoever drove the car had it on their hands, but it apparently didn’t come from this car.”

“So it came from the other car,” Bo said, coming out of the house to join them. “You already suspected she met someone out there and rode with them. So what’s the big deal about the engine grease?”

“Nothing maybe,” Hank said. “I guess it would depend on who picked her up out there.”

“Seems pretty clear to me,” Bo said. “No one uses that shortcut, so it couldn’t have been just someone passing by. Charlotte had obviously set it up. No one would see her get into the other car. Seems to me she was buying time by ditching hers.” He looked at his mother as if she was the reason Charlotte had run away.

“That’s one theory,” Hank admitted. “So who did pick her up?”

“Don’t look at me,” Bo said. “I don’t know anything about it.” He turned to head back into the house.

“But you know who fathered her baby,” Hank said to the young man’s retreating back.

It was only a slight movement of the shoulders, a telltale sign. “What does it matter anyway? The guy obviously doesn’t want anything to do with her.”

Arlene looked as if she wanted to trail after her son. “Bo doesn’t know anything. He’s just talking.”

Bo knew something. And if he knew, then Hank figured it wouldn’t be that hard to find out. There was nothing Hank loved more than a challenge. “I’ll see if I can find anything out.”

“I’ve tried for months without any luck.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, giving her a reassuring smile. “I have a way with people.”

ARLENE RETURNED his smile, thinking he certainly did. She’d tried for months to find out who the father of the baby was without any luck at all. “I’m not sure it’s going to do any good, though. If she’s run off with him…”

“Then at least you’ll know who she’s with.”

“Why are you doing this?” she had to ask.

Hank moved to her and took both of her hands in his. “Because I like you and you need help.”

She tried to pull away, hating the fact that she needed anyone’s help but maybe especially Hank’s. That wasn’t the relationship she wanted with him. “I don’t want you dragged into my problems.”

“Arlene, this doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

How could it not? And how did he feel about her? “I’m a terrible mother.”

He laughed. “No, you’re not.”

“Oh, you have no idea. The mistakes I’ve made…”

“Believe me, my mistakes are legendary.”

“I wish I could do it over,” she said with heat. “I would do things so differently.”

He chuckled. “Wouldn’t we all.” He let go of her hands to step to the car. She watched him lock it. “For the time being, don’t drive the car. Let me see what I can find out.”

She nodded numbly. She couldn’t help being worried about Charlotte and the baby. “I didn’t realize how much I wanted to be there when my first grandbaby was born. I had wanted Charlotte to put the baby up for adoption. But still I thought I could be there for my daughter and at least see the baby…”

She turned away, not wanting him to see her cry. Hank’s kindness had turned her into a fountain.

This wasn’t the way she’d wanted things to be between them. She didn’t want him to know this side of her. Not the woman with all this baggage. How could he even stand to look at her?

“Arlene,” he said.

She turned to find him directly behind her.

He cupped her cheek. His thumb pad brushed the corner of her mouth. “Try not to worry,” he said softly. “I’ll see you tonight.”

She looked into his eyes. He still wanted to go out with her tonight? She nodded numbly.

He smiled. “Leave it to me.”

She watched him walk to his vehicle, still stunned not only that he’d come into her life, but also that he was still there.

Won’t be for long.

Her mother’s voice. But Arlene didn’t argue with the sentiment. Wait until Hank learned about her daughter Violet.

VIOLET EVANS PEERED out the hospital window, past the pathetic array of patients, to the fence that had become her prison.

Just a few more weeks.

It had been her mantra for months, and lately it hadn’t been working—and that worried her more than she wanted to admit.

She’d been doing so well, pretending for months to be catatonic before miraculously coming out of it with no apparent memory of the bad things she’d done in the past. How many people could pull something like that off? Very few if any, she would wager.

She’d always known she was smart, but lately she’d come to realize she might be a genius.

Of course, she had to hide that fact from the doctors. Clearly they weren’t half as intelligent as she was, since they had no idea what she was up to.

Just a few more weeks.

And she would be free.

So why couldn’t she relax and just do what they were asking of her? Why did she feel as if her insides were starting to show through her skin?

The doctors had insisted she do an in-patient work program to prepare her for when she got out. Which meant she filed for hours at the nurses’ station. She thought she would go crazy for sure if she had to do it much longer.

And then there were the nightmares. She’d never told anyone about them. These doctors would have a field day with even one of her dreams. She shuddered to think of what they would make of them. What she herself made of them if she let herself delve too deeply.