Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Campbell had left his gelding, Firewater’s Cyclone, also known as Fire, in his dad’s small pasture, and his duffel was in his momma’s guest room.
And, somehow, he was sitting in the driveway of Mitchell Gonzales’s house, an aluminum pan of green chile chicken enchiladas in his hands.
His boots felt too tight, and his neck was hot, and he’d rather be anywhere else. But his momma had pushed and poked and prodded until he decided to go ahead to Mitch’s, even though he’d been in town less than an hour.
“Son, that man is in need of a friend, and you are going to go be that friend.” Momma had glared at him, fire in her eyes.
“He doesn’t want to see me, Momma,” he’d argued.
“You don’t know what he wants or doesn’t want; you haven’t talked to him in God knows how many years, so stop it.”
So Cam had closed his eyes, counted to forty, and had gotten in the truck.
He had to say that the house had seen better days. It wasn’t like a ramshackle shed or anything, but the siding needed painting and patching. It needed new screens here and there, and the driveway needed to be graded and re-graveled.
The whole thing just kind of looked depressed, old and sad.
He sat there in his truck trying to figure out what to do when a little girl came out on the front porch. She was dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, her bright red hair braided, and the poor baby was skinny as a rail.
She glared at him and then kind of stomped down the steps to his truck.
“Hasn’t anybody ever told you little girls aren’t supposed to go walking up to strange men’s trucks?” he asked her.
She tilted her head. “Do I know you? Does my daddy know you? Seems to me somebody ought to have told you that it’s not nice to sit in your truck in front of somebody else’s house and not get out.”
Ho ho! All right then, this one was a firecracker.
“I suppose you’re right. My momma is Mrs. Halley. She had some green chile enchiladas, and she asked me to stop by and bring them. I used to be a friend of your daddy’s a long time ago.”
“Miz Halley is very nice to us. Very. Miss Lori is my Girl Scout leader. You can come up to the porch. I’ll let Daddy know.”
She trotted inside, leaving him there, holding the casserole. He got out of the truck, heading for the door, and then another girl came onto the porch. This little one was dark as the night—eyes and hair and clothes and expression all.
“Sister said I should come out here and watch you and make sure you’re all right.” She stared at him, searching his face. “I think you look enough like Miz Halley that it’s okay, but whatever. Do you live here? I’ve never seen you before.”
He shook his head, gobsmacked by this girl — she was solid as a rock, and her gaze was like what he imagined Medusa’s would be. “No. I came in from out of town. I’m visiting my momma.”
“Oh, okay. Well, you’re welcome to have a sit. The rocking chairs don’t hurt your butt or nothing when you sit in them. They’re not pokey.”
“Thank you.” Lord have mercy. He chuckled and sat down, trying to figure out what one said to a girl in this situation. “You got a nice place here.”
She shrugged. “It’s where I was born. It’s an okay place. We have lots of critters. I have my books and my sisters.”
“I have a lot of brothers and sisters too. Sometimes it’s good.”
She nodded. “Sometimes it’s not. Watch out for the black dog; he bites.” She pointed over across the way to where a grumpy-looking Rottie was sitting, scowling at him. Not a barker, then. More a sneaker.
“Is he your dog?”
She shook her head no. “Not yet. He just came, and I’ve been feeding him, but he’s not nice.
He bites, but it’s because he’s lonely and he’s scared, and eventually he’ll stop being angry and fall in love with me and be my dog.
So just leave him be, please, sir. I don’t want anybody to know he’s out there because if Daddy knows that he bites, he’ll run him off, and I want him. Okay?”
“All right, all right, I hear you.” He would hold up his hands, but casserole. He just nodded, trying for a smile. It wasn’t like he didn’t know a million children, and he was usually pretty good with them, but these little girls had him stymied.
They were too smart for him, that was for sure.
He waited for her to go back inside too, but she didn’t. She stood there with her arms crossed over her skinny chest and stared at him.
He cleared his throat. “So, what’s your name?”
“What’s yours? Daddy says I shouldn’t introduce myself to somebody, I don’t know their name.”
“I’m Campbell Halley. It’s nice to meet you.”
“I’m Sarah Gonzales. It’s very nice to meet you too. And that’s Rosie.”
“Rosie?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yes, it’s Rosie. His name is Rosie. Rosie Posey.” Suddenly she looked so young, so lost and worried. “Just don’t tell because I want him to be my friend, and if he bites my sisters, either one, Daddy’s gonna be mad. I won’t tell if he bites me again. Okay?”
Again? He didn’t like that. He didn’t like that at all. “Is it bad? Does it need some medicine?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“Can I see?”
She stared at him. “Are you gonna keep our secret?”
Dammit. “I will do everything on earth to keep our secret, but if it’s really bad, you might need to have a doctor.”
She shook her head at him, eyes huge with horror.
“I can’t afford a doctor. Daddy has all the doctor bills.
Everything is… we can’t. We have to be able to eat and feed the critters.
” She held out her arm, and sure enough, there was a bit of a mark, but it wasn’t bad—it was more of a warning nip than anything—one possible tooth mark that didn’t even break the skin.
“I think with a little peroxide it’ll be fine, and I’ll tell you what. After I’m done seeing your daddy, I’ll go out and see Rosie, and we’ll see if we can’t make sure he’s okay. Maybe he’s biting because he’s hurting, and maybe he needs to see the vet.”
She stared at him, looking so defeated. “Oh, okay, well if he needs to see the vet, I have a piggy bank. I have twenty-three dollars, and I will pay the vet because I don’t want him to hurt.”
God help him, this kid was something else.
“Sister’s coming. Shh.”
The screen door opened, and a man in a back brace walked out, cane in hand.
He had raven-black hair with huge silver wings at the temples, and his skin was near ashen with dark circles under his eyes, hard lines of pain and want written all over his face.
He stood there and blinked. “Well, I’ll be damned.
Cam Halley. What the hell are you doing here? ”
“I brought a casserole.” He held it up, his cheeks heating, because Mitch didn’t sound welcoming. Not that he’d expected the man to, or anything, but still.
Ouch.
“Well, tell your momma thank you for me.” Mitch stared, waiting for him to leave, most likely.
“I will. Can I come in a minute?” He needed to do his due diligence, or his momma would just send him back out here every day. Shit, he was so tired from being on the road, pushing it for two weeks leading up to coming here, that he could sleep for a month if anyone would let him.
Mitch crossed his arms over his chest, just like wee Sarah. “Why?”
“Because my momma told me to deliver this, and to talk with you. You know how she is.”
“I reckon I do.” Mitch’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Come on, then. Sarah, Bekka, can you get the door for me and go pour some iced tea?”
“Okay, Daddy.” The girls dutifully moved, Sarah holding the door, the older one, Bekka, moving inside to head for the fridge.
“Thanks.” Now he could look around, see what the house was like on the inside, and report back to his mom. She had just cleaned the house a couple of days ago, she said, and she wanted to make sure they didn’t need her to come again.
Seemed spotless to him, but then he was used to living in a horse trailer half the time and the other half in a hotel.
“Have a seat, man.” Mitch waved to a chair at the kitchen table. Another slip of a girl sat with her hands on her chin, swinging her legs, staring at nothing.
She blinked up at him curiously when he sat down. “Hi!”
“Hey, there. What’s your name? I’m Campbell.” He remembered her sister saying they weren’t supposed to introduce themselves unless he introduced himself first.
“I’m Rachel. I’m the prettiest.” She beamed at him, her smile having a bit of a gap in it.
“Well, it’s real nice to meet you, Rachel.”
“Are you friends with my dad? Did you work with him?”
“Oh, we’ve never worked together.” He figured that was the safest answer. “Your sister said you know my momma, Miz Halley.”
Mitch scoffed. “Nice save.”
He gritted his teeth, trying not to be ugly, because he really wanted to just get the hell up and leave. Those little girls were staring at him, and he wasn’t going to be rude to them. Mitch could take what he got.
“She cleaned our house. She’s really nice.” Rachel beamed. “And she makes good cinnamon rolls.”
“She does make good cinnamon rolls.” He remembered those fondly of a Christmas morning, but it had been a while since he’d had any. He glanced at Mitch. “So, what the hell happened, buddy? Pardon my French.”
“I fell off a roof.” Mitch pushed the words out like every one of them caused him pain. “I’m sure your momma told you that.”
“She did, but that doesn’t tell me what happened. Thank you, sweetie,” he told Bekka when she handed him a glass of tea.
“Baby girl, why don’t you take your sisters and go sit in the front room and watch something on the TV?” Mitch said.
Bekka gave her dad a searching glance, but then nodded and grabbed her sister Rachel by the arm. “Come on, Rachel, do you want to watch Dora?”
Rachel skipped along beside her sister, while Sarah looked more long-suffering. He remembered that; being smack in the middle sucked. A middle child was too young for the older ones, but too old to be doing baby stuff with the little ones.