Cowboy Defender

“How about we go see if Henry and I can win a couple of stuffed animals for the ladies?” Clay asked as they got off the carousel.

“That sounds like fun!” Henry replied. “Can we, Mom?”

Her intention had been to skip the games of chance, but she wound up capitulating to the majority. They had just about made it to those particular booths when three familiar teenagers bumped into them.

Jason Rogers, Robby Davies, and Glen Thompson were all seniors. They were big guys with a penchant for bullying younger and smaller kids at the school.

“Hey, chill out,” Clay said as they all shoulder-bumped, jostling Jason into Henry.

“Well, if it isn’t strait-laced Silver,” Robby said. His friends laughed as if he’d said something amazingly funny.

Miranda’s cheeks burned with a touch of embarrassment. She’d known that some of the boys at school called her that behind her back, but this was the first time it had been said to her face.

“Wise guy, it might not be so smart to bad-talk a teacher during finals,” Clay said.

“Ha, the joke is on you, you dumb cowboy. I’m not in any of her classes,” Robby replied, his tone filled with an utter disrespect that surprised her.

“Come on, Robby,” Jason said, as if sensing the tension that was suddenly in the air and wafting off Clay.

“Yeah, man, let’s go. I’m starving,” Glen added.

“Do I smell beer on your breaths?” Miranda asked. She was sure she smelled booze.

“Underage drinking is a serious offense,” Clay added. “Maybe we all need to go find Chief Bowie.”

“Let’s go,” Glen said. “I don’t want to get in any trouble. My dad would kill me.”

“I suggest you all move on,” Clay replied. His voice held a hard edge. “But before you go, I believe you owe Ms. Silver an apology.”

Robby’s eyes held a hint of anger. He opened his mouth and then snapped it shut. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down at his feet. “Sorry,” he said, his voice a surly snarl.

“And Robby, a word of advice...be careful who you call a dumb cowboy in this town. One of those dumb cowboys just might wind up giving you a butt-whipping you’ll never forget.”

Clay held Robby’s gaze until finally Robby looked away. “Come on, guys. We’ve got more important things to do than waste our time here,” he said.

“What a piece of work,” Clay said as the three disappeared into the crowd.

“I think they all were booze-brave. I’ve never seen Robby be so disrespectful.”

“Let’s just forget about them.” Clay threw his arm around her shoulders and looked at the kids. “Come on, let’s go win some stuffed animals.”

She told herself she should step away from him and dislodge his arm from around her. But the night was cool and his arm was so very warm—and there was nothing even vaguely sexual about it.

In any case, he was the one who withdrew his arm when they reached the first booth. You had to shoot water into a target to fill a balloon, and he insisted they all play.

Their competitive sides were definitely on display as they hooted and hollered in an effort to distract each other. In the end Clay won and his prize was a flashy plastic bracelet that he gave to Jenny.

“That was just for a warm-up,” he said and gestured toward the next booth where stuffed animals hung from hooks overhead. Poodles and tigers, baby elephants and bears all challenged them to take one home.

By the time the night was over, both Jenny and Henry held stuffed bears in their arms. Miranda’s stomach hurt from laughing so much. Her belly was full of carnival food and even though she didn’t really know Clay any better than she had before, she felt a strange kind of closeness to him...a connection forged in laughter and fun.

And they’d had fun. She’d enjoyed his company and that was why she didn’t want to put herself in this kind of position again with him. He could finish up helping Henry with baseball, but that was it.

Once again, as they headed down the midway in the direction of the parking area in the distance, they were elbowed and bumped by the crowd. The carnival’s illumination made everything a beautiful color against the darkness of the night.

They paused to turn back and admire the many colored lights that outlined the Ferris wheel rising up in the dark sky and every other ride along the midway. The kids oohed and aahed over the lights, but she could tell both of them were getting tired. It had been a long evening for them.

They turned back to continue their trek to the car. A hard push moved Miranda sideways and at the same time something splashed all over the front of her sweater. Darn, somebody had spilled a drink on her. She stared down at the front of her sweater as a noxious odor filled the air.

“What the hell?” Clay shouted. He stared at her for a moment and then grabbed her sweater by one side and ripped it off her. He tossed it to the ground. “Did it get on your blouse? On your skin?” he asked urgently.

“N...no.” She stared at him, her head spinning with what had just happened. “What is it? It smells like rotten eggs.”

“It’s sulfuric acid.”

“S...sulfuric...” Her voice trailed away as stunned shock swept through her. She stared at Clay and then looked down at her sweater. The acid had already begun eating away at the cotton threads.

Her knees weakened and the crowd around them blurred. Acid. As she thought about what would have happened if the liquid had hit her face, a chill she had never felt before iced her entire body.

Clay pulled her close to his side, along with the two children who obviously knew something was horribly wrong. She leaned into him, desperately needing his warmth, his strong support.

“We need to call Dillon,” he said and pulled his cell phone from his pocket.

“Sh...should we pick up the sweater?” she asked, her teeth chattering in her head.

“No. Don’t touch it,” Clay replied and then he connected with Dillon. He told the chief of police what had happened and where they were located and then hung up.

“He should be here in just a few minutes.”

He tightened his arm around her, as if knowing she needed his strength, his body heat to pull her back from complete hysteria.

It had to be some sort of a horrid mistake. If it wasn’t, then that meant somebody had just tried to hurt her, to disfigure her with acid.

Chapter 4 (#u7e64acc9-291d-56e4-a407-b3dea41f5e3b)

Dillon arrived on the scene and placed the sweater in an evidence bag. Miranda called her mother to come get the children and take them home with her for the night, and Clay and Miranda were now in his truck following Dillon’s police car to the station to fill out a report.

Dillon had questioned a lot of people at the fairgrounds as Clay remained with his arm around Miranda. She had trembled like a frightened dog in a thunderstorm despite his arm around her.

He still couldn’t believe this had happened. What kind of a damned fool did something like this? He was still in a state of stunned horror.

He now looked over at Miranda. In the dashboard illumination she was pale as a ghost. Her slender fingers nervously twined and untwined in her lap. He had his heater turned on as the night had grown cool and she was without her sweater, but she continued to shiver as if she couldn’t get warm...as if she’d never be warm again.

“How are you doing?” he asked gently.

She released a tremulous sigh. “I’m not sure. I’m still in a state of shock. What I’m trying to figure out is why anybody would have something like that at a carnival?”

Clay clenched the steering wheel a little bit tighter. “I can’t imagine why anyone would ever have sulfuric acid anywhere but in a battery. It’s not exactly the kind of stuff you just put in a cup and walk around with.”