Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
H arrison and Maria were standing in a clothing shop in downtown Quinn. She wore jeans, a light blue tank top with a lightweight plaid button-down over it, unbuttoned, and a straw cowboy hat. Her coppery hair hung in a thick braid on one side.
An hour ago, Harrison had received a text from Carrie’s phone.
Carrie: Meet me at the corner of Main and Austin, 7 pm. I have the prototype.
It was only six fifteen, but this shop had a clear view of the vacant brick building on the corner of Main and Austin. There was a For Sale or Lease sign on its lawn.
“It’s a hot one, even for Quinn,” Maria said. “You’ll be swelterin’ when we go back outside. I think we came to the right place.”
He looked around the blissfully cool shop. There were racks of cowboy boots on one wall, clothing on the other. Somewhere outside, Willow surveilled both them and the meet site along with Maria’s father and uncle. Quinn’s finest. Harrison and Maria had been told to kill time in the shop until five minutes before nine and then head across the street to the meeting site.
“You’re not gonna Pretty Woman me, are you?” he asked.
She grinned at him. “You’ve seen Pretty Woman ?”
“My sister made me.”
“I thought she was younger.”
“Meaner, though.”
Something changed in her face. It softened. “You’re close to your sister. I can tell.”
“After Mom died, we pulled together, the three of us. It got us through the loss, you know?”
She nodded.
“We’re a lot like your family, only smaller,” he said. “Are they that way all the time? Protective? Close?”
“Oh, yeah,” she said. “And more. Always up in each other’s business. Always meddlin’. Nosy as all get out. Everybody thinks they know best.” She rolled her eyes. “Like I should complain. In my case, they were right.”
He let her soft accent soothe him. “After a while, I had to get back to the project, and things have… I don’t know… changed. I feel like we’re drifting. That’s one of the reasons I can’t think about?—”
She plucked a hat from a shelf, pirouetted, and dropped it onto his head. Then she turned him to face a small mirror. It was a cowboy hat, straw, well made. It had a beaded band he thought was Native.
“The artist is Comanche, a local. She wins art prizes, gets written up in magazines all the time.” She adjusted the hat on his head at an angle.
He looked into the small mirror set near the hat section, while Maria read from the dangling tag. “The green turquoise beads represent mountains. The blue ones above and below are water and sky.”
He looked at the price tag that hung from the brim then blinked and looked again. “There are too many digits in this for a hat.”
“It’s on me. And don’t argue.”
He blinked and for the first time thought about her family, the ranch, the size of it. “You’re wealthy, aren’t you?”
“Don’t they teach you good manners back east?”
“Sorry. They don’t let me out among people much.”
“You don’t socialize?”
“Been too busy with the project.”
“So, then there’s no… girlfriend. You never said.”
He shook his head left and right, stuck in her eyes until she took the hat off his head and headed up to the counter. A young man flashed her a smile that said he was interested.
“Maria Michele,” he said. She probably thought that accent was sexy. “It’s so good to see you here. I heard you’re still single. Billy Bob must be loco, to let a gal like you get away.”
“Nobody lets me do anything, Monolito. I do as I please.” She plunked the hat onto the counter. “Don’t wrap it, he’s wearing it out.”
He nodded, but the looks he sent Harrison were not friendly. Not hostile exactly, more like he’d cut ahead in the line of men awaiting a shot at Maria Brand. It must be a long, long line, he thought. She was amazing. Maybe it was just hitting him how amazing. Confident. Beautiful. Smart. Comfortable in her skin. Authentic, probably the most authentic person he’d ever met. She knew what she wanted and was going after it— the clinic, her house on Bluebonnet Lane. She’d have no trouble finding a husband so she could get on with the rest of her plan. All she’d have to do is pick the one she wanted.
She tapped a card, took the hat. They moved toward the front, but didn’t leave the shop. It wasn’t time for a few more minutes. They pretended to browse near a window that faced the place where they were supposed to meet Carrie— or whoever had her phone.
Maria reached up to push a hand through his hair, sending a tingle all the way to his toes. Then she settled the hat onto his head, adjusted the angle, and said, “There,” in a kind of raspy whisper that sounded like sex.
Harrison swallowed hard and didn’t say anything.
“So yeah, my family’s wealthy,” she said, resuming the earlier topic. “A while back, my mom and uncles had to make a decision. To continue to make it in cattle ranching, you either had to go toward a factory feedlot model, or lean all the way into the new regenerative agriculture model. There was no more in-between. My family loves this land. We feel connected to it. A feedlot would’ve destroyed it. So, they went regenerative. Because they got in early, they made a bundle, invested it wisely, rinse and repeat. Now every last one of their offspring gets a check every month.”
“Nice.”
“It is.” She glanced up. “That hat looks good on you.”
“Doesn’t go with my shoes,” he said, looking down at his casual loafers.
“Maybe you need some boots.”
“No, the hat’s plenty.”
“For now,” she said. Then she went quiet, gazing out the window. Every once in a while, the shopkeep looked their way, but he didn’t seem worried.
“You know, Maria, you had a narrow escape with Billy Bob.”
“You can say that again. Who knew he had a violent streak?”
“No, I mean… you can do better. He’s nowhere near good enough for a girl like you.”
“Are you flirtin’ with me, Harry Hyde?”
“Am I?” he asked, and he hadn’t meant to say it aloud.
“Time to go,” she said. “Five of.”
They stepped out of the shop, and the bell on the door jingled. They had to walk to the corner then cross the street. A group of people was walking toward them, and Harrison used it as an excuse to put his arm around Maria’s shoulders. She moved closer, so their hips brushed when they walked, and it felt good.
She pointed out her uncle Ben’s dojo, the volunteer fire department, the post office, all within sight. She nodded across the street. “You wouldn’t know it to look, but that diner right there has the best barbecue in the county.”
“You’re gonna have to prove that.” He grinned at her, and they pivoted to cross the street.
There wasn’t another vehicle in sight, until there was. It came out of nowhere, a truck, careening full-speed. Maria was looking at him, so she didn’t see it. He lunged, pulling her with him, dove because he wasn’t going to make it in time. He pushed her as hard as he could, launched her off her feet, and then he felt a glancing blow to his shoulder that sent him skidding across the pavement and just barely out of the path of the massive tires.
“Harry!” Maria shrieked, and then she was pulling him up onto his feet on the sidewalk where he’d landed, brushing at his clothes, looking him over. His hat was long gone. “Are you okay? Lord almighty, it looked like he plowed right into you!” As she said it, she looked toward the road, and so did Harrison, but the truck had already sped away.
“I’m okay.” She had blood on her forehead.
“You’re hurt.”
“Hit the lamppost is all. I’m good.”
“You’re bleeding,” he said, and he felt sick to his stomach.
“It’s nothin’.”
Brands swarmed. “That was deliberate,” Willow said, while Lash grabbed his daughter and turned her around to inspect her. “I was too busy looking at the two of you to get a description,” he said.
“I’m fine, Dad,” Maria said.
Lash released his daughter, then grabbed Harrison without warning, and full-on hugged him, clapping his back multiple times. Every clap sent reverberations of pain through his shoulder. “You took that hit for her. You just saved my little girl’s life.”
“Anyone see the truck well enough to get a description?” Maria asked. She was holding a red bandana with some ice in it to her forehead. A young woman from the diner had brought it out for her, muttered that the boss had called 911, and retreated inside again. “What did it look like, Harry?”
“Big and fast,” Harry replied. “Text your mom. We should…” He turned to look at Bubba, who surprised him by reading the look and nodding.
“I’ll get the truck.” He hurried away.
“It was a white Chevy,” Willow said while tapping her phone. “Not sure about the year, but it was an older model. I got a partial plate.”
“I got a photo,” Garrett said, holding up his phone.
“You got a photo ? Dang, you’re good,” Maria said. “Well, let’s see it already.”
He tapped his phone and handed it to Maria.
She looked at the photo, and Harrison looked at it, too, because he was standing close to her. Garrett must’ve snapped it just as the truck had connected with Harry’s shoulder, and from the angle of the shot, you’d have thought the rig would have flattened him. It also caught Maria in motion, a blur, as Harry had pushed her so hard.
Harrison had been looking at her, not at the truck. Lash had his hand out, so Maria passed the phone to her father. He looked at the screen, and then he looked at Harrison again, lips pressed, nodding, respect in his eyes.
Bubba pulled up with his big motor rumbling. “Anybody need a need a ride home?”
“Thanks Bubba,” Willow said, then she addressed Maria. “We have to stay here. It’s a crime scene. We need to follow up on that truck. You be careful.” Then to Bubba again, “Straight back to the ranch, no stops, you hear?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Harrison opened the passenger door and went to help Maria up, but she hopped up on her own without a problem. Then he got in behind her. Before Harrison shut the door, Lash handed up his hat, which had been knocked off in the collision.
“It’s a good hat, Harry,” he said. “I like it.”
Harrison took it and put it back on his head. “Thanks. I like it, too.”
“All he needs now’s a white horse,” Willow said with a wink Maria’s way.
Maria rolled her eyes, and Harrison closed the door.
“So, this is the bunkhouse?” Harry asked as Bubba pulled up in front of the one-story clapboard building.
Bubba got out immediately, took his bag from the back of the pickup and headed toward the long narrow building, leaving Harrison and Maria alone in the truck.
“Aren’t we putting the ranch hands out?” he asked.
“Oh, other than special occasions, they don’t stay on the ranch anymore like back when my dad worked here,” Maria said. “They work regular hours, clock in and out. A few have homes and families of their own, but most are single men. They fill every room at the little Quinn Hotel.”
“I saw the Quinn Hotel in town. Bar downstairs, rooms upstairs. Like something out of the old west.”
“It is something out of the old west,” she said. “It’s two and a half centuries old. But today, the bar kitchen makes a mean pizza.”
“We should’ve picked one up,” he said. “Now that the drama is over, and I’m sure you’re okay, I’m starved.” He reached for the door handle.
She covered his hand with hers. “Now that you’re sure I’m okay, you’re starved?” she asked. “That requires clarification.”
He looked at her, looked away. “I was worried. It made me sick to my stomach.”
She swallowed hard. “Made me sick to my stomach, too, when I saw that photo. Cause it looked for all the world like you should’ve been flattened.”
“Looked that way from my angle, too.”
She shook her head. “You saved my life, Harry.”
“Well, you saved mine. From Billy Bob, I mean.”
“Heck, he wouldn’t’a killed you.” She shrugged a shoulder and said, “I like you.”
“I like you, too.” It was an automatic reply.
She said, “I mean… you know… I like you.”
“Oh.” He had to think of how to respond to that.
“That’s okay,” she said. “I thought maybe— you said it made you sick to see me hurt, and then there was that spine-tinglin’ kiss, before, so— let’s go inside, huh? The gang moved all our stuff for us— hope you don’t mind.”
He touched her shoulder, so she turned back. And he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, kissed her like he had before, and then he pulled back enough to talk, and said, “I like you, too. A lot.”
She smiled, and it lit her brown eyes.
“It’s just that I can’t?—”
She pressed her finger to his lips. “You fixin’ to ruin it?”
He stopped talking. She tugged on the front of his shirt, pulled him in for one more kiss. She burrowed her fingers into his hair, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, and they kissed like teenagers after prom.
Then she let him go and got out of the truck.
He couldn’t start anything up with Maria.
He’d already started something up with Maria.
He’d told her he couldn’t live in southwest Texas, no matter how much the place kind of took his breath away. His dad and sister lived in Ithaca— for the moment. His job was in Ithaca. His mother was buried in Ithaca. It was illogical to pursue his feelings for Maria.
My God, he had feelings for Maria.
“Hey, there you are!” Shaggy, blond Baxter came and clasped Harrison’s hand, went to slap his shoulder, but he dodged it with a kind of graceless swoop.
Baxter was as tall as all the other male Brands, but not as wide. He wore black-framed glasses and sneakers, not boots. “Come on around back. We have pizza and beer.”
Then he went back the way he’d come. Maria took Harrison’s sleeve, not his arm, not his hand, just his sleeve. It was dark and she knew the terrain. As they moved around outside of the bunkhouse, toward the back, an orange glow suffused the darkness. The source was a campfire, a house-length away for safety. Lawn chairs, fallen logs, and coolers served as seats. Baxter handed Harrison a beer, and then the kid with the dark curls— he searched his mind for the name— Trevor, son of Maria’s Uncle Elliot and Aunt Esmeralda— brought over a pizza box, holding it open in front of the two of them. Maria took a big slice, so he followed suit. Maria said, “Here’s a spot,” and led him to a log covered in dry, brown moss. They sat and it was like a cushion.
Harrison looked at the gathered group and did a mental pop quiz. Orrin and Drew, brother and sister, seemed to stick close when in large groups. Drew seemed protective of Orrin. In addition to Baxter and Trevor, there was Bubba, who’d driven them. And just then, Willow came traipsing around the bunkhouse with a rucksack over her shoulder. “Got room for one more?”
“You bring beer?” Bubba asked, but then he hugged her, and the two of them found food, and places to sit.
They ate pizza. Harrison wasn’t a drinker, but the beer he was handed tasted good tonight, so he was taking a swig between bites. Every now and then somebody would say something random about the weather or the cattle. And then finally, Drew, the youngest, piped up with, “We’ve all seen the video.”
“What video?” Harrison asked.
“Yeah, what video?” Maria echoed.
“You don’t know about the video?” Drew asked. “They don’t know abut the video.”
Willow said, “The diner had a camera. Caught the whole hit-and-run. A waitress uploaded it to the internet before we told her not to. And it’s getting a lot of views.”
“I don’t know why nobody’s talkin’ about it,” Drew said.
“We didn’t want to make Harrison uncomfortable, Drew,” Bubba said.
“What’s to be uncomfortable about? He’s a hero. You saved her life, Harry.”
“Harrison.” Maybe now that he was a hero…
“Damn straight, he is,” Trevor said. Then he hefted a beer, and Harrison wondered if everyone there was twenty-one. Since Willow was a deputy, he presumed they were. “To Harry?—”
“To Harrison!” Bubba, shouted. “For saving one of our own!”
“To Harrison!” Everyone raised a bottle.
His face got so hot he pressed his dewy, brown bottle to his cheeks. He didn’t know what to say.
“See? You made him uncomfortable,” Willow said. “That said, you, Harry, are a part of our family now. It’s not optional.” She raised her beer then took another sip.
He realized that beside him, Maria was looking at her phone. He looked too, then looked away. It was too much. Maria got to the end and lifted her gaze to his. They locked. She didn’t say anything. It seemed like she wanted to and then just didn’t.
“So, what’s your family like?” Drew asked, oblivious to the current zapping between him and Maria.
“Smaller, for sure,” he said. “I have one sister, Lily, a few years younger. She just passed the NCLEX, so now she’s an RN in search of her first job. My dad is a retired chef and my best friend. He has his own apartment but his health isn’t great. Asthma, former smoker. He’s lookin’ at retirement communities in Florida.”
“I used to struggle with asthma when I was a kid,” Baxter said.
“How about your mom?” Drew asked.
He lowered his eyes, focused on the fire. He could almost imagine her face in the flames. “She passed a year ago. Cancer.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.”
Murmurs of sympathy moved like a wave through those gathered.
“So what do y’all think is happening here?” Baxter asked. “And how can we help?”
So, for a while, Harrison explained everything that was going on, as far as he knew it, with a lot of input from Maria. At one point, she was finishing his thoughts, and he was finishing hers, and everybody else was rapt.
Bubba said, “It’s pretty clear they ain’t lookin’ to just kidnap you, Harrison.” He was the only one of the group who called him by his name. “They plumb tried to kill you.”
“And they’ve killed once already,” Willow said. “Your partner Solomon.”
He lowered his head. “Do you think Robert and Carrie are already… I mean that text obviously wasn’t from her. It was from whoever has her phone. Whoever, maybe, has her.”