Riding Shotgun

Which bought up a more important subject. Grace handed her the phone. “Speaking of favors, is there someone you can call to stay with you tonight?”

“Don’t need ’em. I can hobble the few steps to the bathroom when the urge hits and to the kitchen to get fresh ice when I need it. Rest of the time, I may just sleep right here on the sofa.”

“You are a very independent woman, Esther Kavanaugh.”

“When you’re alone, you have to be.”

Grace knew that all too well. Still, she didn’t feel good about leaving Esther alone tonight.

Esther made the call to Buck and then turned back to Grace. “His mom says he’s in the shower, but she’ll send him over as soon as he’s dressed.”

“Perhaps either Buck or his mother could stay with you tonight,” Grace suggested.

“Buck’s fine with the livestock. I don’t want him trying to help me, though. He’s all legs and awkward as all get-out.”

“What about his mother?”

“Libby would just keep me awake blabbering all night. She’s the biggest gossip in Winding Creek, and that’s saying a lot.”

“Perhaps there’s someone else, then.”

“No one I’d like putting up with. You said you were just traveling through. Where are you heading?”

Time for the lies to commence. Fortunately, Grace had worked out most of the details of her new identity while driving. Of course, she’d already blown the fake name.

Being prepared didn’t make the lying any easier, especially to someone as open and trusting as Esther.

“I lost my job in Houston,” Grace said, “so I’m going to visit a friend in Albuquerque. She thinks she can get me a job there.”

“You’re kind of off track for Albuquerque, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but since I’m in no hurry, I thought I’d see more of Texas, take back roads, stop at towns I’d never been to.”

“Like Winding Creek?”

“Winding Creek wasn’t on my original itinerary,” Grace admitted, “but I like this part of Texas.”

“Most folks do love the Hill Country. So what’s your hurry? Stick around a day or two. Drive into Winding Creek. It’s a genuine Western town. Still has places on Main Street to hitch your horse—not that I recommend taking a horse into town.”

“Perhaps I’ll come back one day and check it out.”

“No time like the present. I’ve got plenty of room in this rambling old house and I’d love the company.”

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll blab too much?” Grace teased.

“Wouldn’t mind if you did. At least it wouldn’t be the same old stories and gossip I’ve been listening to for years.”

“I’m a stranger,” Grace said. “You know nothing about me. You really shouldn’t invite strangers into your home.”

“I know plenty about you. You climbed through a barbwire fence and ran to the aid of someone yelling their lungs out when you had no idea what you might be getting into.”

“Anyone would have done that.”

“No. Not these days. Well, they do in Winding Creek, but not everywhere. Don’t matter, you seem like a good person to me and I’m an excellent judge of character. Even Charlie used to admit that I can spot a liar the second they open their mouth. I can spot an honest person even quicker.”

Which didn’t bode well for Grace, since almost every word out of her mouth from here on out would be based on a lie. But she did hate the idea of leaving Esther alone tonight.

What harm could one night do? It wasn’t as if she was being followed. She’d been far too careful for that. There was no earthly reason for anyone to look for her here.

“I have four extra bedrooms,” Esther encouraged. “One ought to be to your liking. None of them are fancy, but the beds are comfortable—even have clean sheets on them. Beats driving an hour or more and then being stuck in some stuffy old motel room down the highway.”

“You are putting up a good argument.”

“Then it’s settled. You’ll spend the night here. We’ll get to know each other better. I have a feeling we’re going to be great friends.”

Grace was certain the prediction they’d become friends would never come to fruition. Keeping her past and true identity locked away like bones in a crumbling crypt never allowed her to get too close to anyone.

“Okay,” Grace agreed. “One night, if you really want me to stay. But you have to promise to let me take care of you. I don’t want you trying to play hostess on that ankle.”

“I’m just going to lie right here except when I have to go to the bathroom.” Esther smiled and the lines in her face softened as she readjusted her leg on the pillow.

Grace had made the right decision—at least for Esther.

As long as Esther never discovered that the woman she knew as Grace Addison only existed as a character in a horror tale.

* * *

GRACE WOKE FROM a sound sleep to a blinding flash of lightning that seemed only inches from her window. An earsplitting crash of thunder followed. She shivered and pulled the quilt up to her chin, not that she expected to go back to sleep with a thunderstorm raging.

She reached for her phone to check the time. Ten past three. Lightning struck again and the accompanying thunder was so loud it rattled the windows.

Esther was at the other end of the long hall. The storm had surely woken her, too. Better go check on her, since that was why Grace was there. If nothing else, she could get her a fresh ice pack.

She flicked on the lamp, shoved her feet into her slippers and pulled on her pink fleece robe, glad she’d remembered to grab it when she’d packed so hurriedly.

Grace was already in the hallway when she remembered the horrid wig she’d been wearing when she’d arrived.

If she’d had any idea she’d be staying in someone else’s home even for a night, she would have made another choice. Perhaps a freaky dye job and a short, spiky haircut. She could have gone goth. She still might when she left the Double K Ranch.

Rain began to pelt the windowpanes. Grace grabbed the wig from the top of the antique dresser and pulled it low on her head. She adjusted and readjusted until she was certain none of her own brown locks escaped the wig.

Reminding herself she was Grace Addison, she tiptoed to Esther’s bedroom. Her door was ajar. Esther’s whistling snores overrode the sounds of the torrential rain. Perhaps that was why the storm hadn’t awoken her.

The temperature in the house was several degrees cooler than it had been when Grace had gone to bed and she could feel a chilly draft in the hallway. She’d made certain the front and back doors were closed and locked, but the draft had to be coming in somewhere.

She followed the chill to the family room and turned on the overhead light. It took only a few seconds to discover the problem. A window behind the sofa was open a crack and the wind and rain were blowing in.

Grace closed and locked the window, then went to the bathroom to get a towel to wipe up the water.