Riding Shotgun

“Timing is everything,” Grace agreed.

“I’m Esther. Esther Kavanaugh. Been living here on the Double K Ranch for years and don’t remember ever just tripping, falling and not being able to get up.”

“It can happen to anyone. Let’s get you inside, and then we can chat.”

“I don’t know how a little thing like you is gonna help me inside. I’m twice your size.”

“That’s a major exaggeration, but an additional person for support might make it less painful for you. Were you calling for your husband? If he’s around, perhaps I can find him.”

Esther shook her head. “Charlie’s dead. If he was alive, I wouldn’t have been out here in the first place. He took care of me and I took care of him. That’s how it always was.”

“I’m sorry.”

Esther struggled to steady the grief that had snuck into her voice. “Not your fault. It’s somebody’s, just not yours.”

“Who were you calling for?” Grace asked.

“My hired help, but if he were still at the ranch, he’d have heard me yelling before now.”

“Then looks like you’ll have to trust me to get you inside. Believe me, I’m stronger than I look. But if it hurts too much even with my help, I’ll call 9-1-1.”

“Don’t want no part of that. All those medical people know to do with people my age is take us to the hospital. Then they want to charge us for nothing.”

“Then lean against me and try to keep your weight off the right foot while I help you up.” Grace took Esther’s arm and helped her to a standing position. “Nice and easy. Let me know if the pain seems unbearable.”

Esther did as she was told. Thankfully, her Good Samaritan had told the truth. She was a lot stronger than she looked. Esther hobbled along with Grace’s help.

“We need to take the steps slowly,” Grace said as they reached the back door to the house. “Hold on to the railing with your free hand to help you stay balanced.”

Following Grace’s advice, Esther took the three back steps with a lot less pain than she’d feared. Nothing seemed quite as scary since Grace had appeared. Of course, once they were inside, Grace would be on her way and Esther would be alone again.

Always alone without Charlie. Someday someone would pay for that. Esther wouldn’t rest until justice was done.

But right now she was just grateful for Grace.

Chapter Four (#u2d46545e-1be5-55c3-a057-ffcbd0a8f324)

By all rights, Grace should be a nervous wreck at this point. She’d made a major faux pas in the backyard. She hadn’t given anyone her real last name in the six years she’d been on the run. Thankfully, she’d caught herself in time to use the last name that was on her latest fake ID.

It was the unexpected nature of the encounter with Esther. Normally, she planned her life carefully, taking no chances with strangers.

In spite of that, Grace felt at ease. Esther was so sweet and unassuming, her house so cozy, it was impossible not to feel at home with her.

Esther was resting at least semicomfortably now, reclined on the sofa in the loose-fitting cotton robe Grace had helped her change into. Her leg was propped on multiple pillows, her ankle iced and a clean compression wrap from Esther’s first aid kit in place.

“Are you a nurse?” Esther asked.

“No, but I’ve had experience with sprained ankles, usually my own. But if this is not a lot better by morning, you should see a doctor and have it x-rayed.”

“It can’t help but be better the way you’re pampering me.”

“I’m just doing what anyone would do.” Grace tucked an available afghan around Esther’s legs. “Do you have some pain relievers in the house?”

“I have some ibuprofen I use when the arthritis starts acting up.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to take that. Where would I find it?”

“In the kitchen cabinet next to the sink and above the counter.”

“I’ll get it,” Grace offered. “Would you like anything else, perhaps a cup of tea?”

“Nothing yet, but you help yourself to anything you see in there that you want. There’s homemade chocolate chip cookies in the cookie jar and sweet tea in the refrigerator.”

“Thanks, but I had a late lunch.” Chips and a soft drink, if you could call that lunch.

Alone in the kitchen, Grace took a few seconds to absorb her surroundings. The kitchen, like the rest of the house, had a cozy, lived-in feel. A red teakettle sat on the back burner of a freestanding gas range. An electric coffeepot was on the counter next to a chicken-shaped sugar bowl and a basket of unshelled pecans.

A breakfast nook with a view of a pumpkin patch held a round oak table and four captain’s chairs topped with blue-and-white-checked cushions.

A sky blue fruit bowl filled with apples, oranges and bananas rested in the middle of the table. The fruit was too tempting to resist. Since Esther had offered, Grace washed her hands at the kitchen sink and helped herself to a banana.

Everything was much as Grace had imagined it when she’d first seen the house from the logging road except that there were no children, no husband, no food simmering on the range. Yet Grace was almost certain the house had once known laughter and great love.

And now she was fantasizing, relying on her own needs to dictate the unknown.

She took a bite of the banana and checked the refrigerator to see if there was something a lousy cook like herself could prepare for Esther’s supper. Bacon, eggs and sandwich fixings were plentiful, but that was about it.

The freezer told a different tale. One shelf was filled with serving-size packages of food, all neatly labeled. Soups, meatloaf, chicken and dumplings, casseroles.

Another shelf held sealed plastic bags filled with frozen vegetables. Butter beans, several kinds of peas, corn, carrots and okra, to name a few. Definitely no shortage of food choices.

Satisfied Esther wouldn’t starve, Grace quickly went about the business at hand. She finished her banana and retrieved the bottle of pills. She shook out two into her hand and filled a glass with ice water before hurrying back to the large family room.

Esther raised up on her elbows, took the meds and almost finished the glass of water.

“You’ve done enough waiting on me for now,” Esther said. “I’d appreciate if you could stay awhile, but you’d best go get your car before it gets dark.”

“Good idea,” Grace agreed. “And then I’ll come back and warm up something for your dinner.”

“For my supper,” Esther said. “That’s what Charlie always called it. He liked his big meal at lunch and something light at night.”

“Then I’ll fix your supper,” Grace said. “Are you sure you’ll be all right while I’m gone?”

“I’m not getting off this sofa. But you can’t go traipsing across that pasture and climbing through barbwire again,” Esther announced. “You could get hurt.”

“I’ll be careful.” Though she wasn’t looking forward to the possibility of meeting a bull head-on.

“Fiddle-faddle. Hand me the phone. I’ll call Buck. Much as I have to pay that boy to do a few chores, won’t hurt him to do me a favor.”