Nighthawk & The Return of Luke McGuire (19 page)

“Not a one.”

“Hell, she’s slipping. I’ll have to talk to her.”

Esther laughed again. “She’s just worried about you having to give up so much.”

He looked over at her and shook his head. “I didn’t give up anything meaningful, when you come right down to it. And some things are a hell of a lot more important.”

“You gave up your freedom.”

Now that one was harder for him to answer, and she felt her heart begin to race uncomfortably as she waited. Not that she cared, really, because after all he would never be interested in her as more than a casual friend. But if he were unable to settle down happily…

“Sometimes,” he said heavily, “I think I should have been born a gypsy. I’ve been suffering from wanderlust since— Well, ever since I can remember. It gets especially strong in the spring. I figure, all things being equal, that when we get the ranch on a sound footing and can afford to hire some help, I may look for a job as a long-haul driver again.”

Esther had to confess that thought didn’t really thrill her. Somehow the thought of not seeing Craig for days or weeks on end just…hurt. Not that she would probably see all that much of him after her father left the county. He’d certainly have no reason to be stopping over all the time.

“Anyway,” he told her, “it’s just a pipe dream, and I’m not really sure I’d even do it. Ranching isn’t so bad most of the time. “I’ll just be a whole lot happier when we’ve got a little cushion built up.”

“I can imagine.” Well, she didn’t know exactly what to make of that. He missed trucking, but he hadn’t exactly said he would die without it. “So what about war gaming?”

At that he laughed and shook his head. “I’ll bet that sister of mine tried to make me sound like some kind of martyr, which I’m not. Never have been. Sometimes life just deals some tough cards. You do what’s necessary to take care of your obligations and then worry about other things when you have time. I’m sure as hell not sitting around getting bitter about the past, or even moping. In fact, except for my sister’s big mouth, I’d be having a great time right now.”

Esther could hardly pursue the subject after that. Smiling, she let it drop, but she figured Paula had been closer to the truth than Craig wanted her to know.

When they got to town, they were able to find a parking place only a half block up the street from Maude’s diner. Craig came round to help her down.

Esther hesitated, because the curb was in the perfect position that if she didn’t land just right she was going to fall. It was too close to the car for her to step down to the street, and too far away for her to easily step onto it. Craig solved the problem by holding out hands.

“May I?”

She bit her lip and nodded, allowing him to take her around the waist and lift her to the sidewalk.

“There you go.”

Perhaps someone somewhere would be able to explain to Esther what happened just then, but as it was she could only put it down to extraordinary meanness. A man who was walking down the street looked toward them with a sneer.

“Hey, Injun,” he said. “Moving on from kids to cripples?”

F
or Esther, time abruptly slowed down. As if every detail were suddenly magnified, she saw Craig’s nostrils flare and a white line suddenly appear around his lips. In the merest instant she knew what was about to happen. Craig was going to turn and confront the obnoxious ass, and the situation would only get messier. He might even get hurt. In the blink of an eye, she forgot her fear of men in an urgent desire to prevent violence that might hurt Craig.

She turned swiftly, heedless of her lame leg, and confronted the man herself. Pointing her finger at him, she said, “How dare you! This man was cleared of all part in that terrible crime! And what’s more, I am
not
a cripple! You, however, are apparently suffering from a severe defect of manners and intelligence. Now get out of here before I get really angry!”

The man was so taken aback by her unexpected attack that for a couple of seconds he could hardly react. Then an ugly sneer began to spread across his face, but before more nastiness could come out of his mouth, a familiar voice interrupted him.

“You heard the lady. Move on, Lenny.”

Nate Tate stood on the sidewalk behind them, legs splayed, hands on his hips, every inch a lawman who wasn’t going to stand for any nonsense.

“I c’n say anything I want, Nate,” the other man argued. “It’s a free country.”

“It’s a free country except for fighting words, Lenny, and saying nasty things about a man’s lady friend couldn’t be anything except fighting words. So move on before Mr. Nighthawk takes a notion to deck you.”

Lenny moved on, muttering about the country going to hell when the law would stand up for an Injun. Esther clenched her hands so hard that her nails bit into her palms, yet she still had to bite her tongue to keep from responding. “Oh, that hateful man!” she said finally.

Nate gave her a rueful smile. “Every place in the world has its share of his kind. Not a whole hell of a lot you can do to change their minds, unfortunately.” He shook his head. “You two heading for Maude’s?”

Craig nodded. “Join us?”

If Esther had cherished even a faint hope that this was a date, his invitation to the sheriff dashed it completely. Surely if this were a date he wouldn’t have done that. She gave herself yet another kick for allowing her hopes to override her common sense. She knew better!

Nate shook his head. “I won’t interrupt. I just wanted to have a few words with Esther. Maybe I’ll have a cup of coffee with you while you wait for your dinners, then be on my way.”

“Sure,” Craig agreed. “Good idea.”

Together they entered Maude’s. In an instant every eye in the place fixed on them, and Esther was glad for Nate’s company. It wasn’t that any of them were overtly hostile, but she got the feeling they might be. That, she assured herself, was a product of her own paranoia. Most of the folks in this county were good people. Nice people. She hadn’t had any trouble with them before. Of course, she’d been hiding out like some kind of hermit—

Oh, stop this now! she told herself. Enough! They’re just curious.

Craig pointed to an empty booth, and Esther was glad to disappear into it. Craig slid in beside her and Nate sat across from them. Maude must have seen them come in, because she was upon them almost at once with plastic menus and flatware wrapped in cloth napkins. The napkins surprised Esther.

“Evenin’, Sheriff,” she greeted Nate. Then she turned her basilisk eye on Craig. “How you been, Mr. Nighthawk? I have some of that elderberry pie you favor, by the by.”

After the incident outside, Esther was somehow surprised that this woman didn’t treat Craig like a pariah. But, she reminded herself, the whole county didn’t believe ill of him.

“And
you,
” Maude said, turning her glare on Esther, “must be that artist lady I’ve been hearin’ about for so long.”

“Why yes! How did you know?”

“You got that lame leg.” Maude shook her head. “Damn shame a pretty thing like you has to have a limp. Well, the good Lord knows what he’s about, I s’pose. Now,” she added, jabbing a finger at Esther, “I expect I’ll be seeing more of you, now that you finally broke the ice and come in here. I tell you right up front, though, I don’t cotton to this fat-free, low-calorie stuff we’re getting shoved down our throats by them that claims to know what’s good for us.”

From the corner of her eye, Esther saw Nate struggle to hide a smile.

“My granddaddy lived to be ninety-seven years old eating eggs and bacon and steak and butter,” Maude continued. “My momma and daddy both are in their late eighties, and they’re still eating my cooking. Seems like to me it ain’t the saturated fats that’s the problem, but the way you live. Hard work’ll keep you healthy.”

Esther nodded, both in agreement and amusement. “I quite agree.”

“Good.” Maude fixed her with another glare. “’Course, if a lady’s watching her waistline, I can be persuaded to turn up a tasty salad with lemon juice dressing, but otherwise it’s good, solid farm food.”

“That’s exactly what I’m in the mood for,” Esther assured her. “I seldom feel like cooking for just myself, so I’m looking forward to a very hearty meal.”

Maude nodded as if she hadn’t expected anything else. “Good. Have the T-bone smothered in onions and mushrooms. The beef is extra good this week. Baked potato or fries?”

“Maude’s fries are to die for, according to my daughter, Krissie,” Nate said. His dark eyes twinkled.

Maude snorted. “Can’t imagine why anybody would want to die for fried potatoes.”

“Fries it is,” Esther told Maude. “Thank you.”

“House salad, house dressing?”

Esther nodded. Craig ordered a dinner identical to hers, and Nate insisted he just wanted coffee, no pie. “Really, Maude, I’ve got to cut out the pie. I got my thirty-four-inch waist back and I aim to keep it this time.”

“You need to get out from behind that desk more.”

“You’re probably right. But since I have to get home soon because Krissie is playing the organ at church tonight, I’m going to have to skip the twenty-five mile run that I’d need to burn off a piece of your pie.”

Maude snorted again and stomped off. Nate looked at Esther with a grin. “Quite a character, our Maude.”

“She certainly is.”

“A few years ago, she took on Micah Parish. He hadn’t been in town too awful long…less than a year, I think. Anyway, Jed Barlowe was up in the church belfry shooting at anything that walked, and Maude made some noxious comment about ‘that Cherokee deputy’ of mine.” Nate shook his head, grinning reminiscently. “Damned if I know what Micah said or did, but she actually apologized to him a couple of minutes later. She’s practically sweet on him now.” He glanced at Craig. “Which may be why you haven’t been treated to the sharper edge of her tongue…or have you?”

“She’s always treated me like she did just now.”

“Damn. Maybe our Maude is turning over a new leaf.”

“You mean she’s usually blunter?” Esther asked.

“Blunter and sharper. She’s got a reputation for being able to skin a man at twenty paces with the sharp edge of her tongue.”

Esther laughed. “That could be a truly valuable talent.”

Craig glanced at her with a laugh warming his dark eyes. “Naturally
you’d
think so, being a woman.”

She smiled demurely. “We use what weapons we have.”

Nate cracked a laugh. “Okay, okay, let’s get serious here for a couple of minutes.”

Just then Maude brought the coffee and slammed it down in front of Nate along with a wedge of pie. “It’s blackberry pie, and I won’t be making it again until next year, so you’d better eat it.”

Nate groaned. “Maude, am I going to have to send Marge over to talk to you?”

“Your wife don’t frighten me none. She’ll just have herself a piece of that pie and tell me how she can’t understand why you’d pass up anything so good when you could always run them twenty-five miles tomorrow—chasing
her.
” Head high, Maude stalked off, leaving them laughing behind her.

But Nate’s smile faded quickly, and after a couple of mouthfuls of pie, he looked squarely at Esther, his expression serious. She felt her stomach sink.

“I found your father this afternoon,” he told her. “About a half hour after I talked to you on the phone. I had a long talk with him, told him he was upsetting you.”

“And?”

“Well…he insists he just wants to talk to you. He says he hasn’t touched a drop of alcohol in fifteen years and that he’s gotten clear on a few things. He just wants to apologize.”

“Apologize?” Esther could barely take it in, and when she did a white rage filled her. “Apologize? That man beat me and my mother for years. He killed my mother! How can he think an apology… My God. My God!”

Nate looked down at his pie and shoved the plate aside. He didn’t say anything for a while, and neither did Craig. Both men looked unhappy about the situation.

“Well,” Nate finally said, “I don’t believe he thinks the apology will make any difference to
you.
”

“Then why bother? Why stalk me like this?”

“I reckon it’s something
he
needs to do.”

“Well, he’s damn well going to have to live without it. My God, I never want to set eyes on that man again, let alone listen to him apologize for killing my mother and crippling me!”

Nate nodded. Craig reached under the table and took her hand, squeezing gently. Neither man said anything.

Esther turned her head, staring at the wallpaper that was only a few inches from her nose. Apologize! She couldn’t even imagine the temerity of it! Why on earth would he think that she was willing to hear his apology?

“He’s lying,” she said suddenly, facing the sheriff. “He’s lying about what he wants.”

“Well,” Nate replied slowly, “that’s a possibility. I can’t rule it out entirely, but it sure seemed to me that he was telling the truth.”

“He might be,” Craig agreed. “Selfish as it is, it might be something
he
needs to do.”

“Strikes me that way, too,” Nate agreed.

“
Selfish
is a good word for it,” Esther said flatly. “Utterly, purely selfish. But that’s so very much like him! He never gave a damn what anyone else might feel, not in all the years I lived with him. He was the absolute center of the universe, and treated everybody else like they were slugs on the ground.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, I’m getting all wound up and I’m sure you don’t want to hear it, but that man has got to be the most self-centered scum that ever walked this planet. Whatever he’s doing here, you can believe he doesn’t care a lick how it affects me. Can’t you make him go away?”

Nate shook his head. “Sorry. Wish I could. But the fact is, he hasn’t done anything wrong in the eyes of the law. If he wants to camp out at the motel for the rest of his life he can do it. You might want to post your property, though. That way if he shows up at your place again, you can call me to remove him. I can even charge him with trespassing.”

“That’s it? That’s all? Trespassing?”

“That’s it. Unless he does something else I can nail him on.”

Esther realized suddenly that she was squeezing Craig’s hand so hard she must be hurting him, but when she tried to pull her hand away, he hung on. “What are my other alternatives, Sheriff?”

Nate took a couple sips of his coffee, then set the mug down emphatically. “Well, you could just ignore him and hope that he’ll go away. Or, you could set up a meeting with him and make sure you’re not alone when you see him. If apologizing is all he really wants, he ought to go away. If not, we’ll find that out. In the meantime, though, there isn’t a whole hell of a lot more I can do without setting my department up for some kind of lawsuit. The man has a right to go where he pleases until he breaks the law.”

A few minutes later Tate departed. Craig slipped around to the other side of the booth, then reached across the table with his hands palm up in invitation. Unable to resist, she placed her hands in his. “I’m sorry,” he said. “This was supposed to be a fun evening out.”

She shook her head sadly. “It’s not your fault. I’m sorry my problems are messing up your whole life.”

“Cut it out.”

Startled, she looked at him.

“You heard me. You’re not ruining my life, or even messing it up. This is what friends and neighbors are for, and you’re sure as hell not going to get any help out of law enforcement until something happens. There is no way I’m going to leave you to face this alone. Got it?”

She managed a nod. This was the man who had given up his truck driving and bought a ranch in order to ensure that his sister’s family had a better life. She wasn’t going to be able to argue with him about this, but she certainly didn’t want to be another burden on him, either.

Well, enough of this, she told herself sternly. What was she going to do? Drown in self-pity because Richard Jackson couldn’t be run out of Conard County? Absurd. Besides, Craig was right; even if they made him leave, he could just come back. If he really wanted to hurt her, sooner or later he would find the opportunity.

Maude brought their plates, large platters bearing big T-bones and enough fries for an army. She slapped the platters down emphatically, asked if they needed anything else, then stalked away.

“Well,” Esther said, putting on a determined smile, “let’s pretend my father never existed and enjoy dinner, shall we?”

The look he gave her was almost tender, and made her heart climb straight into her throat. “I just want you to be able to laugh,” he said.

She almost made a fool out of herself then by bursting into tears. Nobody in her entire life had ever cared whether she laughed or cried.

“You’re so beautiful when you laugh,” he murmured. “All I want is for you to keep on smiling.”

Her throat tightened until it ached. What could she possibly say in reply?

“Eat your steak before it gets cold,” he said, giving her hand a last squeeze before letting go. “Then we’ll take a drive.”