Peaches & Pistols (Lucky Spurs Ranch #3)

Chapter 1

“Everly, baby. I need you to stay right by mama, okay?”

Carter just left for work and the first check-in phone call usually comes about thirty-six minutes from now. I have a half-hour to pack as much of me and my daughter’s life as I can carry in our backpacks, walk to the bus stop, praying the A-line’s running on schedule.

“Can I have a chewy bar?” my sweet six-year-old asks, as she follows me around the house, unaware of how I’m about to turn her life on its head.

“Mama will get you one here in a minute, baby.” Agreeable as always, Everly’s content to wait and lets me tear around the house like a madwoman.

Everly first. Where’s her backpack? Coat closet! I hung it up after our park outing yesterday so Carter wouldn’t yell at her because of the clutter.

Her stuffy is non-negotiable, small blanket, her ninja books.

Shoot, her backpack’s nearly full. If I remove her blanket and put it in my backpack, I can fit a few outfits for her.

Do I need her winter coat? It’s August, but I don’t know where we’ll end up, or if I’ll be able to afford to buy her one. No, there’s just not enough space.

“Everly, where's your hairbrush?”

“In the braid box.”

Braid box, under her sink. I can’t take the whole box, but if I wrap some hair ties around the handle of her brush, and the leave-in spray, it should get us by.

That mop of hair will get out of control in a heartbeat.

Baby wipes, perfect! I can use those for everything.

Oh, her toothbrush! She won’t use my toothpaste, so I need to take hers.

“What’re you doin’ Mama?”

“We’re going on an adventure today.” I check the clock—shit. I’m not going to have enough time.

“Baby, do mama a favor and go to the pantry and get your lunchbox and fill it with as many snacks as you can, okay? And grab your water bottle for me?”

“Can I get my chewy bar?”

“Yes, of course,” I say too quickly.

She looks at me with that tiny furrow in her brow that tells me she’s wary, breaking my heart, but goes anyway.

I zip her preschool-sized backpack and sling it over my shoulder. At least she has her things. I race to my room on featherlight feet, accustomed to moving through the house without drawing Carter’s attention.

Slipping on my stocking feet on the cold bathroom tile, I catch my hip on the vanity corner. For Pete’s sake. Why’d I have to bump into that bruise? Examining my hip, the pain from my bump is nothing compared to the bone-deep ache left from Carter’s boot.

The wood of the towel closet door bows against the hinges as I rip it open. It rebounds and catches me on the cheekbone.

“Shit!” My hand flies up to protect my face. What’s another bruise to add to my gallery?

I sweep the contents off the top two shelves onto the floor. Anxiety claws up my throat at the consequence there’ll be for the mess.

Except we won’t be here.

The emergency bag I stashed is intact. Carter would never bother to open this closet, let alone grab his own towel or know anything was hidden here.

That fact doesn’t stop me from unzipping it and pinching the stack of bills hidden inside.

The vice grip around my throat loosens knowing the money is untouched.

My stomach twists that our documents aren’t in here.

When I went to steal them from the home office, they weren’t in the filing cabinet where they were supposed to be.

My cheek was raw for a day after I asked him where Everly’s birth certificate was, claiming I needed it for school registration.

I was informed that all our important documents, everything I’d need to run away, was locked in the safe which I “had no business accessing.”

“I packed my lunchbox!” Everly bops into the bathroom, her hair’s already a bird’s nest from rooting around in the pantry.

“I picked my purple water bottle ‘cause it matches your purple water bottle.” Her tiny hands are holding both hers and mine, and from the way she wobbles, she filled them.

Her gesture pinches behind my sternum, but I don’t have time to get emotional. I grab my empty backpack from the other empty bathroom shelf, rolled as small as it could be. All that hides inside is a first aid kit, including concealer for the…darker areas on my face.

Bathroom…think, Mia. Toothbrush, I can share Everly’s toothpaste and hair supplies. Deodorant. What else?

I scramble to the walk-in closet and ask Everly to check the digital clock. “Seven-one-eight.” Shit. I have less than ten minutes. I stuff underwear, socks, and whatever clothes are nearest into my backpack.

A pair of leggings snags on the prongs of my wedding ring. The metal burns like molten lava against my finger. I wrench it off and drop it where I stand. I never want to see or feel that shackle again.

“Can I bring a coloring book?” Everly asks, scaring me half to death, too lost in my panic to notice her when she should be the only thing I’m focused on.

“Yes, hurry though, it’s time to go on our adventure!” The feigned excitement in my voice barely masks the sheer terror.

One last look at the clock says Carter will be calling in the next few minutes. He always calls as soon as he gets to work to make sure I’m where I’m supposed to be.

Everly returns with a coloring book and the new pack of crayons I snuck into the grocery cart this week.

The clock in the kitchen ticks second by second down to the moment that will change my and Everly’s lives forever. I take the remaining time to regulate my breathing, so my nerves don’t betray my voice.

The shrill tone of the landline ringing stops my heart like it does every time.

“Whitaker residence,” I say as rehearsed, polite but monotone—because otherwise it means I must be flirting with the caller. I’ve had many a split lip to prove it.

“Amelia. You sound better this morning. Your behavior last night was unacceptable.”

I don’t reply. There’s never a safe response.

“What are you filling the day with?” Aside from the household worth of chores and cooking that’s never good enough?

“Everly and I just packed for a park outing.”

“Hmm. Put her on the phone,” he demands coolly.

“Everly, love. Phone.” My mini-me carefully takes the phone, even at her young age, leery of her dad’s mood swings.

“Hi,” she says quietly.

I stand close enough to hear Carter on the other end of the line.

“Mmhmm. My pack-pack is all full and I have my purple water bottle, ‘cause Mama and me are going on an adventure.”

I was careful to tell Everly we’re going on an adventure, because that’s what she calls every outing.

“Here, Mama.” She hands me the phone and patiently stands at my hip with our backpacks at her feet. My hand shakes as I bring it back to my ear.

“I’ll be home for lunch. I expect something fucking edible, Amelia. Not like that garbage you made yesterday.” The call ends, deafening silence ringing in my ears.

My world narrows to a pinprick of light. Overwhelm and adrenaline threaten to pull me under. When my eyes regain focus, I jot a quick note onto the phone pad.

Just let us go.

With what I hope are my last words to my husband, I stroke my daughters wild hair.

“Alright, let’s go on our adventure! Put on your good sneakers, please.” Thank god Carter let me buy her new shoes last week. I slip on my worn sneakers and snag my housekey from its hook. Today will be the last time I ever need to use it.

I help Everly into her backpack, and clip her lunchbox to mine, which I hold onto for dear life. We step into the sunshine, the day already becoming hot this late August morning.

The security camera is recording us leaving—Carter’s surely watching the live feed on his phone. As far as he knows, we’re walking to the park. By the time he notices anything is awry, we’ll hopefully be miles away from this hellhole.

I shut the front door behind us, carefully locking it, and take Everly’s hand. We descend the porch steps together. I don’t bother looking back—there’s nothing in that house other than memories I want to forget.

Everly skips beside me without care in the world, and no idea we’re leaving this life behind. She chatters on about the birds and the neighbor’s flowers as we walk down the block. I hardly catch anything she’s sharing but interject mmhmm’s and smile when she pauses.

“Mama!” Her small hand tugs on mine when I don’t turn down the street toward the park.

“Our adventure is this way, sweet girl.” She follows without fuss.

“Will there be a park?”

“I’m sure there’ll be a park. This is the biggest adventure we’ve ever gone on. But you and I can get through anything as long as we’re together, right?” I hope she can’t hear the desperation in my voice.

“Yep!” She starts singing an adorably off-key song from one of her favorite shows.

I don’t have a cell phone, but I’ve paid lethal attention to the streets and landmarks in our city, so I navigate us to the bus stop without trouble, tossing my now-useless housekey down a storm drain on the way. In the weather shelter, I check the bus schedule.

Carter called around seven-thirty. It took us maybe twenty minutes to walk here. The A-line should be picking up any minute. God, I hope we didn’t miss the bus because the B-line doesn’t pick-up for another hour.

Everly stands on the bench below the information board and studies it as intensely as I am, ever my little copy-kitten.

The air-brakes on the bus inflate my lungs with anticipation. After paying our fare, Everly be-bops down the aisle to where she wants us to sit and gleefully takes the window seat.

Paranoia sets in immediately. The bus is half-full during the morning commute, but despite the prickle of bugs crawling beneath my skin, no one’s eyes are on us.

“Mama, can I color?” Everly’s tiny hand pats my thigh.

“Yea, baby. That’s a great idea.”

“I’m gonna color you a picture. DON’T LOOK!” she orders, and I promise I won’t peek until she’s finished with her masterpiece.

Grateful for her distraction, I watch the city go by over the cloud of her frazzled hair and take inventory of our situation.

We did it.

We got out.

We have some essentials, and I have the money I’ve socked away over the years. As soon as we got home from our honeymoon, the Carter who wooed me was gone, and our home turned into a prison. I started saving for this exact moment, not knowing then, when this would be.

The more miles stretch behind us, the more my shoulders lower from my ears.

I shift to get comfortable, and my hip screams at me. Heat floods to my cheeks from the pain and memory from which it came.

I let the grief of missing my big sister coat the walls of my veins with agony, allowing myself to feel the feelings I’ve repressed all these years.

Yesterday was Charlie’s death anniversary, and my distracted grieving led to a dinner below Carter’s standards.

His cruel words ricochet inside my throbbing skull so loudly I want to cover my ears.

My mistake of serving him that meal, knowing what his reaction would be, tore straight through the paper-thin walls around my heart.

Tears only spurred Carter on, so I learned to hide them for my own survival. The weaker I appeared, the worse my consequences were. But I just wasn’t strong enough to hold myself together last night.

What was already one of the worst days of the year ended with me locked in the guest bathroom enduring a cold shower in hope it might minimize the swelling and bruising on my battered hip.

I’m so sorry, Charlie. I miss you so much.

A bump on the road brings me back to the present, where I’m on a bus with my daughter running for our lives.

“Excuse me.” I tap the shoulder of the woman in the row ahead of us. “What time is it?”

“Five till nine, dear.”

“Thank you.”

If Everly’s bladder holds another hour, we can get off to stretch our legs. If it’s a small town, the library should be easy enough to find.

Everly will be enamored with fresh bookstacks and hopefully I can use the internet to map the journey to our new life.

The passing road sign cheers that we’ve officially left the city I hope to never return to.

I can finally breathe.