Home Is Where Your Boots Are (8 page)

Someone tried to kill Cash. In retrospect, it was probably more of a death threat than an actual attempt. The shot was wide, way wide. With all the rednecks around here, I was leaning toward the shooter making a statement, but I’m no detective.

Everyone had converged on my office for some unknown reason. There was a hell of a whole lot of chaos going on. The police, Cash, and his parents were there, along with mine. Charlie hadn’t moved and Nonnie had shown up for the party as well.

Sheriff Clay and his two cohorts in black were taking statements while I filled glasses with Tally. We’d gone to high school with the two officers
,
and one had had a major crush on me, a crush that had gotten me out of several speeding tickets whenever I came home to visit. Danny was a cutie, but he had several teeth missing and his family tree didn’t fork quite right. He was a definite Bubba, bless his heart. The other officer taking statements was a barroom-haired
,
manly-woman who’d disliked me slightly less than Tina,
but
I wasn’t wholly sure why.

I tried to focus. Cash was sitting in my chair, looking grey around the edges and chalky in the middle. He caught me looking at him and smiled shakily. I made my way over to him.

“What happened?” I asked without prefacing my question.

“We were having a ribbon-cutting ceremony to open up a new wing at the hospital and someone in the crowd started firing.”

“You’re sure they were aiming at you?” He turned his head to the left, revealing a nick at the top of his right ear, a trail of dried blood tucking into his starched
,
white shirt collar.

“Someone’s either a good shot, or a very bad one,” he joked. I wasn’t interested in his levity. I was trying to maintain my professionalism. It was hard. He looked like he needed a hug. And it was never just a hug with me and Cash.

“Who do you think it was?” I asked. Scotty should sign me up. Cash sighed, reaching up to unconsciously rub his fingertips over the tip of his injured ear.

“I don’t know. I need some tea.
” He moved to get up and go around me, avoiding any more speculative conversation with me.  Mama came up behind me with more information.

“What do you know?”

“Cash was making a speech when it happened.  The shot was very wide. Odd. I’d say it was Tina, but she’s not to be found.”

“Were you there?” I asked her.

“Yes. Both your father and I were. We donated a chunk to the new wing.”

“You didn’t see anything?”

“No. It came from behind us, and higher up, because everyone up front was on a mini-stage, and it didn’t look like it came from an angle, the way Cash reacted.” I was wide-eyed at my mother’s astute observations. Scotty should sign
her
up.

“Did you tell Sheriff Clay that?”

“Of course I did, although he was much more interested in your father’s version, which didn’t include all the details. Because you’ve met your father.” I nodded at that. My dad’s a forest guy.

“They’re sure it was meant for Cash? Who was standing next to him?”

“No one right then, he was up at the podium and everyone else was sitting down.”

“Anyone oppose the new wing for any reason? Someone mad because they didn’t name it after somebody’s dead uncle?” My mom gave me a look.

“They named it after Janelle Simcox’s mother. She was the librarian at the public library for fifty years. No one’s going to question that.”

“Well who else is mad at Cash?”

“No one, recently,” Mama said. “Back in his heyday, there would have been plenty of brothers, daddies, or mamas itching to teach him a lesson. He’s done so much at the hospital to change his reputation enough that no one wants to actually kill him anymore.”

“Then we’re back to Tina.”

“Maybe, but Tina’s not about making statements. She’s about action. If she wanted him dead, she’d have just killed him and been done with it.”

“True,” I conceded.

“Who did Cash think it was?” Mama asked.

“He didn’t want to talk about it,” I told her with a twist of my mouth. Mama pursed hers. Sheriff Clay and Daddy made their way over.

“I think we’ve taken all the statements we need,” Sheriff Clay announced. “Cash, son, we’ll be in touch as soon as we know something, if anything.”

“Thanks, Clay,” Cash answered, standing and shaking the sheriff’s hand. Charlie, Cash’s father, Daddy, and Sheriff Clay walked out of my office, discussing the incident. The sheriff’s deputies trailed behind.

Behind me, I heard my mother make a decision. Never one to waste a good crisis, or to avoid taking care of someone, she addressed the crowd. “I think this calls for some home cooking. Cash, you look like you cou
ld use some of my world famous double-
coated fried chicken. We’ll get mom to make some potatoes and biscuits, and maybe we can talk Lilly into making a pie?” Mama stated, turning to me and nodding. I nodded back, mute and torn between labeling my mom a traitor and hugging her.

“Thank you, I could use some of your fried chicken,” Cash answered, grateful written plain on his face. I did an inward grimace. The last time Cash had been eating my Mama’s fried chicken he’d been dating me and doing Tina.

Jan, Cash’s mother, was nodding in agreement with Mama, offering to bring the sweet tea and green beans. Oh man. I hoped Tina didn’t try to shoot Cash. If she was wielding a gun, she’d be aiming it my way for sure. Everyone filed out but Charlie, who had stood, sipping something strong from a tumbler that had not come from my drink supply and watching the show.

“Don’t get involved.” He took a strong quaff and set the crystal down on my desk.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I lied. He offered his first eye roll of the day.

“You do, Counselor Atkins, and you’d do well to remember those oaths you took before the supreme courts of Texas and Oklahoma.” I watched him shift his bulk around and hitch up his pants. “If Cash Stetson had died today, the culprit might just have justified cause.” I felt my hackles start to rise. Charlie never made light of the law.

“What do you know that I don’t?”

“Nothing worth sharing that you don’t know already.” He walked out before I could interpret the twisted words. I sighed and grabbed my Coach to get pie ingredients.

xxx

After everyone had converged on Nonnie’s house and stuffed themselves with fried chicken, biscuits,
and
mashed potatoes and gravy, I dished up a fresh-from-the-oven peach pie. I’d also gone against my better judgment and made an extra apple pie. Apple was Cash’s favorite. Call me a glutton for stupid decisions, but the man
had
gotten shot at today. I’d gone into the kitchen to get an extra dessert fork and was standing over the stove where I’d left the other pie, looking at it like it was a crystal ball.

“Is that apple?” Cash had snuck up behind me and was eyeing the pie hungrily. Startled, I backed up against him, the heat from the oven fusing with the heat that accompanied me whenever I touched Cash, accidental or otherwise.

“Uh, uh, yeah. Uh huh.” I twisted away from him and held out the pie scoop as a weapon. He smiled at me.

“Is that for me?” He asked, already knowing the answer. The thing about Cash is, he knows me better than anyone ever has, but at the same time, he doesn’t know me at all. If that makes sense. I sighed and waved the scoop at him, feeling cramped in my Nonnie’s overheated, cloying kitchen.

“Yes,” I bit out defensively. “But only because the store didn’t have enough peaches for another one, and there were going to be lots of people here.” I explained irritably. A younger Cash would have disputed me and attempted to prove himself right and get under my skin and have me either stomping out of the room or attacking him with my lips. This older Cash had learned a few things while I’d been gone. He ignored my stuttering and smiled sincerely at me.

“Thanks,” he said simply. Reaching out and taking away the kitchen utensil I was still wielding, he regarded me with question. “Do you want to get out of here?” he asked, cocking his head toward the din of the buzz in the next room.

“Yes. No… No.” He looked at me patiently.

I wanted to leave. I wanted to leave with him. I shouldn’t. Definitely not with him. Married, dangerous, and always charming were all bad ideas. But I wanted to talk to him. Alone. Surely I had enough will
-
power to withstand a private conversation with Cash. I didn’t. I wanted to. But I didn’t. Which is probably half of why I wanted to go. “No,” I repeated. “Yeah,” I finally nodded. Old habits never die; they just get harder to justify.

He nodded back and ripped a few paper towels off the roll and dug through the silverware drawer to pull out two forks. It worried me that it didn’t necessarily irk me that he knew exactly where the silverware drawer was. He wink
ed at me as I stood and watched,
and then grabbed the pie and my arm and dragged me out the back door, waving in the general direction of the dining room as we snuck out.

I was met by six foot of bullish, pit-bull bodyguard when I set foot on Nonnie’s front porch. Apparently my weak habits weren’t old enough to be forgotten.

She slapped a large hand on the doorframe of the screen door and cocked a sharp hip blade, clothes-lining me and blocking any other exit.

“Where are you going?”
Tally shot me with a look typically reserved for Versace.

“To talk,” I mulishly set my lips. She shook her head.

“Don’t, sis. He’s married.”

“Separated, and nothing’s going to happen. He just needs a friend.”

“Well, you don’t. He’s never been your friend. The last thing you need right now is him trying.”

“It’s fine. I’m fine. We’re just going to eat some pie and talk.”

“Pie.” Her eyes took on a disappointed cast as she lowered her long arm and stepped aside. I took the opportunity to ease around her, ignoring all signs pointing toward “bad idea
.”

“I’ll be back.”

Cash, uninterested in Tally’s admonishment, had leaned against his truck to wait on me. I could feel the eyes of our respective families as he walked me around the truck. He opened the passenger door for me and I scooted past him, feeling his eyes on my backside as I climbed up. He handed me the pie and reached across to deposit the forks and paper towels on the console. I shot him a look letting him know not only was I immune, but I was onto him. To his credit he withdrew without touching me and walked across to swing his long legs under the steering wheel. He started the truck and maneuvered it out of the driveway.

Someone probably should have blocked him in. Eight years ago they would have. Gravel spewed as we headed up the dirt road. I rolled my window down and let the dusky air roll into the truck. Leaning back against the headrest, I closed my eyes to enjoy the smell of honeysuckle, manure, and early evening air as we headed on the road that led up to the hill that sat above our property in the valley. I kept pushing away that slow burn telling me I shouldn’t be alone with Cash. I wanted to go back. I wanted to be that girl. His girl. His first choice. Before he chose someone else. Before I ran away to Dallas. I wanted to pretend I was twenty-one again and bad decisions could be tossed aside and forgotten like a pair of cheap shoes.

Cash punched in a worn Bellamy Brothers CD, and we listened in companionable silence as they sang twangily about being persuaded to fall in love. A smile twitched my lips as I listened to the words. While the silence was an odd one, it wasn’t awkward. One might think Cash would immediately try to pry into why I’d come back given it was our first time truly alone and without a predetermined purpose. I was
sure he already knew the answer,
but he refrained. Maybe it was the shock of the day or he’d developed empathy. Either way, I was glad not to have to repeat the debacle. I broke the silence.

“Where are we going?” I opened my eyes and turned my head toward him, resting my cheek against the cloth seat. I tangled my legs up underneath me. He looked across at me under shaded eyes and adopted a faux-hurt expression.

“I’m disappointed you even have to ask.” I untangled my legs and shot up in my seat.

“Cash, maybe illegal was your idea of fun seven years ago, but I’m a member of the bar. I can’t go doing any breaking and entering anymore. Even if I could talk us out of it.” I waved my hands and cut my eyes at him. He rolled his own at me and turned off the main dirt road into a clearing that had once been choked by weeds and brush. It was now free from shrubbery
,
and the path had been converted into a road with fresh dirt. Cash turned off the truck and took out the keys as I sat in surprise. He got out and unlocked the heavy and ornate iron gate, swinging it wide.

Coming back to the truck, he climbed in and offered me another wink. I forgot my earlier resistance and broke out my biggest cheek-splitting grin.

“Seriously?” I asked excitedly
,
as he pulled through the gate and followed ruts to a pond.