Tight-Fittin' Jeans

“Oh, all right,” Taylor said, handing Tiffany the cloth.

A few minutes later, a powdered-down Taylor was in her bedroom, putting on her pajamas. Tiffany watched her for a minute, then said, “I’ll be right back, hopefully with kitty in tow.”

Garth Dixon tightened the girth, then climbed into the saddle. Although the horse snorted and nodded its head indicating it was ready to go, Garth didn’t nudge the animal into action. He simply sat there lost in thought. He didn’t want to do this chore. He didn’t want to do anything that required an effort, and being neighborly certainly required that.

As it was, he’d put off doing the favor Jeremiah Davis had asked of him to the point that he couldn’t indulge himself any longer. That didn’t mean he had to like it.

But again, if he was going to live in this place, he should work on his attitude, which meant he shouldn’t mind helping someone out, especially a man whose desperation had been clear even on the phone. Garth guessed he would feel the same way if his wife was laid up in the hospital seriously injured.

Well, on second thought... A jerk of his head veered him off the track. Just do the good deed and get it over with, he told himself. It was such a small thing and here he was making a big deal out of it, which was par for the course. These days even getting out of bed was a big deal, not to mention his poor attitude, something he refused to apologize for.

Sighing, Garth finally nudged the horse and moved in sync with its big but graceful body, the pace leisurely as he guided his mount through the wooded, fertile valley toward the Davis ranch.

Though he continued to nurse his sour mood, he couldn’t ignore the beauty and peace that surrounded him. Still, it wasn’t peace he sought He’d already had enough of that to last him a lifetime.

A short time later, Garth ambled onto the Davis property. Having decided to check the barn before heading toward the house, he dismounted and went inside.

After looking around and finding nothing amiss, he breathed a sigh of relief. Once he checked the house, he could get back to his cabin in the woods.

He smiled a bitter smile.

Tiffany was halfway to the barn when she stopped for a moment, noticing, not for the first time, how liberating it felt to be here and away from the evils of her former job. She stared into the distance, taking in the beauty of the fertile valley, including the surrounding rolling hills and distant mountains. Maybe this was the panacea she had needed to get her life back on track, though she would give anything to have been here under different circumstances.

Refusing to dwell on the negative, Tiffany made her way into the barn, ruing the deal she’d made with Taylor. With nightfall fast approaching, the barn gave her the creeps, not to mention having to cart that cat back to the house.

She was about to call out “kitty, kitty” when she saw him. Tiffany’s footsteps faltered at the same time that her heart jumped into her throat. Her initial reaction to seeing a strange man on the premises was to run, to get the hell out of Dodge.

Instead, while his back was to her, she acted on impulse and latched on to the garden shovel that, luckily, was at her fingertips. Then she raised her weapon and brought it down on his skull.

She didn’t know which emotion was more exhilarating—horror or relief—as he dropped to his knees, then fell facedown in the dirt.

Three

Tiffany stared wild-eyed at the hunk of humanity sprawled in front of her. Who was he? And what was he doing on the Davis property? Was he homeless, perhaps looking for a place to sleep? Even though she couldn’t tell much about him, the latter somehow didn’t ring true. From what she could see of him, he wasn’t dressed like a vagrant. He had on a pair of okay-looking jeans, a casual shirt and boots.

He was tall and thin, too thin to suit her taste. That . aside, he could have passed for any Texas cowboy on any given day—only this cowboy wasn’t moving.

Making tiny mewing sounds against the hand she was holding across her mouth, Tiffany backed up, never taking her eyes off him. What had she done? Had she killed him?

OhmyGodohmyGod, she chanted silently, until she backed into the door frame. Then, on legs that seemed to have a will of their own, she turned and tore off toward the house. By the time she reached the back porch, she was so weak and sick to her stomach that she had to catch a post and hold on to it, reaching deep inside herself for a decent breath.

Dear Lord, she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life behind bars, which might be what would happen if she’d actually hit him hard enough to kill him. And she was very much afraid that she had. She’d seen the blood trickling down the side of his head. Her stomach did another flip-flop. and it was all she could do not to give in to the desire to lean over and throw up.

But she couldn’t allow herself that luxury. Regardless of who he was—rapist, thief, or vagrant—she had to get help. As it was, she’d wasted enough time. She crossed to the door and flung it open.

Taylor was sitting on the couch with the TV blaring, laughing at the show she was watching. When she saw Tiffany, she seemed to sense that something was wrong.

“Are you sick?” she asked with childlike bluntness.

Tiffany threw her what she hoped was a reassuring smile, but she knew she’d failed. Taylor looked almost as terrified as she felt herself.

“I have to call 911.”

“We don’t have 911.”

“Damn,” Tiffany muttered. Of course this one-horse community wouldn’t have such a sophisticated system.

“That’s a naughty word. My mommy said you’re not supposed to say it.”

“What?”

“Damn.”

If the situation hadn’t been so serious, Tiffany would have laughed. But the situation was serious, and now was not the time to deal with the issue of whether she’d said something she shouldn’t have.

“Forget I said that, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’ll have to call the sheriff,” Tiffany said, more to herself than for Taylor’s benefit. Noticing that the number she sought was posted by the phone, she snatched up the receiver and dialed.

Moments later, the terse conversation was behind her, but still she couldn’t seem to move or to think rationally. Only after Taylor jumped off the couch and stared at her as if she had just landed from another planet did she react.

She’d said as little as possible, so as not to frighten the child more than she had to. “It’s going to be all right,” Tiffany said now, in what she prayed was a calm and rational tone.

Taylor’s lower lip trembled. “I want my daddy and mommy.”

“So do I, kiddo, but unfortunately, you’re stuck with me.”

Tears flooded the child’s eyes, and Tiffany felt like an inept idiot. She placed her arms around Taylor’s shoulders and held her close.

She couldn’t believe this was happening. Had she actually whacked another human over the head so hard that she might have taken his life?

No! Now that she was safely in the house, away from the eerie barn, she wouldn’t think like that Surely she hadn’t done that much damage to his head. She didn’t have that much strength. Or did she? Maybe she’d cracked him in just the right place. Again the sick feeling washed over her, and she saw herself being handcuffed, then put in the sheriffs car.

Tiffany swallowed the panic that rose up the back of her throat just as she heard the siren.

Taylor twisted out of her arms and rushed to the window. “Sheriff Wright’s getting out of the car.”

Tiffany didn’t wait for him to knock. She headed for the door herself, Taylor on her heels. “Uh-uh, young lady. You stay put right here.”

Taylor’s face bunched into a frown. “I don’t want to. ”

“Nevertheless, you’re going to.” Then, softening her words, Tiffany added, “As soon as I know what’s going on, I’ll be back.”

Taylor jutted her chin and averted her face. Tiffany hated knowing that the child was upset, but there wasn’t anything she could do about that at the moment. There was enough trauma going on in Taylor’s life without her seeing a man who might be—

Shutting down that thought, Tiffany raced out the door just as the sheriff walked onto the porch. “Howdy, ma’am,” he said, tipping his hat. “I’m Porter Wright.”