The Judge
He hesitated as if he wanted to say something else.
She waited, but whatever was on his mind went unsaid. He merely nodded and started across the street. A red pickup truck almost hit him. The truck driver honked and swerved, and Frank jumped back. He didn’t look at her. When the way was clear, he trotted to the other side.
She wanted to call out to him, but he didn’t look back.
Her ice cream started dribbling over her fingers, and she hurriedly began to lick away the mess. When she glanced up again, Frank was hurrying up the steps of the courthouse. She sighed. He even looked good from the rear. Maybe she wouldn’t mind seeing a little more of the handsome Frank James Outlaw while she was in Naconiche.
FRANK FELT like such a dope. He’d nearly been creamed by that pickup. He’d been off-kilter since he’d run into Carrie in the hall outside his office. A couple of times yesterday afternoon, he’d found his mind wandering from the case he was hearing to thoughts of her. And last night he’d done more tossing and turning than sleeping, bedeviled by memories of Susan and feeling guilty as hell about being attracted to another woman.
And he was attracted to her. It bothered him. Bothered him so much that, trying to avoid bumping into Carrie, he’d left his office early and gone to the Grill instead of the tearoom. But it seemed that the powers that be had other ideas. When he’d looked up and seen her at the café, he’d felt a rush of elation rather than disappointment. His best efforts at trying to ignore her didn’t last long. As if they had a mind of their own, his legs had gotten up and trotted in her direction.
He’d almost invited her to go to that musical in Travis Lake that J.J. had suggested. Almost. He was glad he’d kept his mouth shut. It was too soon after Susan’s death to start seeing another woman. Or was it?
Sure it was. Susan had been the great love of his life. Until a couple of days ago, he had thought he’d be content to be a widower for the rest of his life. His kids, his work, that was enough for him he’d believed.
Carrie Campbell had shaken that belief. It made him nervous.
Court that afternoon was absorbing enough to hold his attention, but back in his chambers, Frank began to get that antsy feeling again and left early. When he spotted the florist across the square near his parking space, he walked over and bought a small bouquet of yellow mums tied with a white ribbon. He laid the flowers on the seat and drove to the cemetery west of town.
The wind had kicked up a little, and it rumpled his hair and flapped his tie as he walked to the familiar spot where Susan lay. Fallen leaves from an oak tree nearby made a scratching sound as they skittered across the headstone. He squatted down and brushed away leaves and a bit of grass from a recent mowing.
Hers was a simple flat marker made of a slab of pink granite with an antique brass plaque. Dogwood blossoms decorated the margin of the large plaque, and in the center was her name, Susan E. Outlaw, the dates of her birth and death, and the simple but profound message: Beloved Wife and Mother. A permanent brass vase was filled with a pretty bouquet of silk flowers that changed with the seasons, but Susan had always liked fresh flowers, so he brought them now and then.
“Hi, Suz,” he whispered, laying the mums just below the marker. “I brought you some flowers. They’re yellow. Your favorite color.”
Now he knew that Susan wasn’t there, but it was the closest he could come to physically being near her, so he often came to the cemetery to talk to her. Looking at a photograph of her or looking up at the sky or sitting in the kitchen or even in church didn’t do it for him. He’d tried it. This was the last place he’d seen the body of his wife, and this was the place where he returned.
“God, Suz, I miss you so much. It’s so lonely sometimes without you.”
A gust of wind sent more leaves sliding across the marker.
“Did I tell you that the twins are doing really well learning to ride their bikes? Of course they’ll have training wheels for quite a while yet, so there’s no need to worry about them getting bunged up.”
He told Susan everything that had been going on his life—except that he didn’t mention Carrie Campbell. He couldn’t quite bring himself to mention her.
Afterward he felt better. He returned to his car and headed home. This was the night he’d promised the twins they could watch the Charlie Brown special on TV.
CARRIE PUT the low-cal dinner in the small freezer compartment and the salad in the fridge. Although she’d done it hundreds of times, somehow the prospect of eating out alone that night seemed dreary, so she’d stopped by the grocery store to pick up something.
She stretched her back and rolled her head around, trying to ease the stiffness in her muscles. Exercise. That’s what she needed. She’d missed jogging the past couple of days, and she felt it.
After changing hurriedly into grungies and her running shoes, she did a few warm-up exercises, then stuck her key into her pocket and went outside.
She greeted Mary Beth Parker, who was coming out of the office unit.
“Hi,” Mary Beth said. “Going for a run?”
“Thought I would. What’s a good route?”
“Go down this street about a quarter mile, then take a dirt road to the left. There’s not much traffic there. I teach aerobics on Thursday nights in unit two. You’re welcome to work out with us tomorrow if you like.”
“Thanks, I’ll do that.”
“I was just going for a short run myself,” Mary Beth said. “Mind if I join you?”
“Not at all. I’d like the company.”
“I broke my foot last spring, and I still have to take it pretty easy while I’m getting back into shape. I’m not at marathon level yet.”
Carrie grinned. “You don’t have to worry about holding me back. A couple of miles will do it for me. Three maybe if I walk and jog.”
“That’s about my speed for now.” They started down the road at a fast walk.
The route they took was a two-lane blacktop with pastures on one side and tall trees, mostly pines mixed with a few hardwoods, on the other. A few head of black cattle grazed in the pasture while a breeze rustled the treetops and swayed the underbrush.
“Tell me,” Carrie said. “How did you come to be a chef and an innkeeper? Was it a family business?”
Mary Beth laughed. “It’s a long story, and I’m no chef. I’m a cook—through necessity. And I’m not sure that running a small motel elevates me to the grand term of innkeeper. It was a family business—in a way. A distant cousin owned it, but when I inherited the Twilight Inn and the restaurant last spring, the place was a mess. Worse than a mess. The motel units had been standing vacant for years and were dilapidated beyond belief. The tearoom had been a Mexican restaurant more recently and wasn’t as bad, but the roof leaked and it had mice.”
“You’ve certainly done wonders with it, and chef or not, the food at the tearoom is great.”
“Thanks. It was a lot of work, and I couldn’t have done it without the help of some very good friends. I was desperate when I came back to Naconiche, and inheriting this place seemed like a godsend—until I saw the condition of it. This is where we turn.”
They took the dirt road and began to jog at a slow pace. “Desperate? Sounds like an intriguing story.”
As they trotted along the red dirt, Mary Beth related the tale of her return to Naconiche. She’d grown up in the town, then moved away with her parents about the time she started college. She’d met her former husband in school, married him, moved to Mississippi and lived the good life—for a while.
“Marriage to Brad wasn’t the fairy tale I’d imagined it would be. Things got really bad, and we divorced. Katy and I moved into the garage apartment of a friend in Natchez.
“I was teaching aerobics, and we were getting by,” Mary Beth said. “Barely. Until I injured my foot. I couldn’t teach with my foot in a cast, and I was almost broke when I discovered that I’d inherited the Twilight Inn. I thought we were saved.”
“Except that it wasn’t what you expected.”
“Lord no. It was a disaster.” Mary Beth laughed. “Katy and I lived in the restaurant for a while.”
“In the restaurant?”
Mary Beth grinned. “Yes. It wasn’t so bad until it rained and the roof leaked like a sieve. J.J. came to the rescue. This is where we turn around.”
They started back to the motel, walking for a while, then resuming their jog. “Your fiancé seems like a really nice guy.”
“He is. Sometimes I think that probably I should have stayed in Naconiche and married him to begin with. But I know we were too young in those days.”
“So you knew him before?”
Mary Beth nodded. “He was my first love. We dated a long time.”
“And he never married?”
“Nope. Says he was pining for me all that time. And if you believe that, I’ve got this bridge…”
They both laughed.
“And you’re not married or committed to some special fella?” Mary Beth asked.
“Never have been. Never will be.” Her tone was sharper than she meant it to be.
Mary Beth was quiet for a long time. The only sounds were their breathing and the slap of their soles on the road, but Carrie could almost hear the wheels going around as her running partner considered possible explanations for her statement—and was too polite to question her further. Carrie should have kept her mouth shut. She’d never been prone to sharing intimacies with anyone, but she’d felt drawn to Mary Beth almost immediately and felt very comfortable with her—almost as if they’d been friends for a long time. And God knows, Mary Beth had certainly been candid about her life.
After about a half mile, Carrie chuckled and said lightly, “I always figured that my mother was married enough for the both of us. Seven times at last count.”
“Seven? You’re kidding.”
“Nope.”
“Is she still living?”
“Alive and well and in the south of France. The last couple of times, she married Europeans.”
“Do you see her often?”
“Only occasionally. We don’t have much in common. My mother is a dependent type who must have a man to take care of her. I don’t need anybody to take care of me. And the truth is, my work keeps me on the road too much for a long-term relationship. Men seem to want their women around for more than a week here and there. Or at least that’s been my experience.”
“I suppose that’s true. And you travel all the time doing genealogical research?”
“That and various other kinds of specialized research. I stay pretty busy. Where’s your daughter tonight?”
“J.J. took Katy over to Frank’s house to watch a special TV program with his twins.”
“His twins? Frank has twins?”
“A boy and a girl Katy’s age. They’re all in kindergarten together.”
Carrie was stunned. She’d never thought about his having children, though it made sense when you considered he was a widower. That put the cap on it for sure. So much for Frank. While she’d never really considered any kind of serious relationship between them, even the remote possibility of a few casual dates while she was in town had disappeared. From now on she’d avoid him like the plague.
Men with children were invariably looking for a mother for their kids, and that wasn’t for her. She didn’t know a thing about kids and certainly wasn’t cut out to be a mother. She’d had a lousy role model.
Chapter Four
Her resolve didn’t last long. Carrie ran into Frank as she was coming out of the assessor’s office at a quarter to twelve, and darned if her heart didn’t skip a beat.
“Hello,” he said, closing his door behind him. “Going to lunch?”
“Yes, at the tearoom.” She wasn’t going to eat at cholesterol city across the square just to avoid Frank Outlaw.
He smiled. “Me, too. Want a ride?”
“Uh, no. I need to do some work in my room afterward. I’ll take my car,” she said.
“Mind if I hitch a ride with you? I’ll get Dad to drop me back here.”
“No problem. You joining your father today?” she asked.
“He and J.J. and I usually eat together on Thursdays. That’s chocolate cake day. We’re all suckers for Mary Beth’s chocolate cake.”
“I’m a sucker for anything chocolate.”
“I’ll have to remember that.”
He grinned. Why did he have to grin? He looked so darned sexy when he grinned. And why did he have to put his hand to her back when they walked to her car? Didn’t he know that it made funny prickles zip up and down her spine like a Japanese express train? Her resolve to cool her feelings for Frank was dissolving fast.
Since the first time she’d seen him, he’d had a singular effect on her, and it seemed to have grown instead of diminished. What was it about this particular man that shot her defenses? He had two arms, two legs and all the rest of the body parts typical of the male gender—and she’d never melted like ice cream in a skillet over other guys. At least not since she’d been sixteen and ape over Jon Bon Jovi.
As they drove away from the courthouse Frank ran his hand over the leather seat, and his fingertips brushed her leg. The touch hit her like a jolt of electricity. Did he do that on purpose? She glanced at him, but his hands were clamped together, and he was engrossed in studying the dash.
He looked up and said, “Nice car.”
“Thanks. I like it.”
“You must be a very good genealogist.”
She smiled. “I am. I’m good at all kinds of research that I do, but the car was a thirtieth birthday gift from my mother and her husband.” She didn’t add that her mother had told her latest catch that it was her daughter’s twenty-first birthday. Hence the special gift. After her face-lift, Amanda had shaved nine years off her age, so she’d shaved nine years off Carrie’s age as well. One thing she’d have to say for her mother, she’d made out like a bandit in her last couple of trips down the aisle. Amanda had plenty stashed away for her golden years.
“Her husband? Not your father?” Frank asked.
“No. My father died in an accident when I was only two. Amanda, my mother, has been married several times. I believe the latest one is a retired investor. He’s French. Jacques something-or-the-other. We’ve never met.”
“I take it that you and your mother aren’t close,” he said quietly.
She glanced over and saw sincere compassion in his eyes, and tears suddenly sprang into her own. Damn. She never cried. And certainly not over Amanda. Long ago she’d learned that the only thing crying accomplished was to make her face blotchy. That was another thing about Frank. He seemed to be able to fly under the radar of her emotional control.
She took a deep breath. “Not really. I never seemed to fit in with her plans.”
“That’s tough on kids.”
“I survived. Mary Beth tells me that you have twins.”
“I do. Janey and Jimmy. They’re five.”
She couldn’t think of anything else to say. She knew zilch about children. And, she reminded herself, she really didn’t want to encourage any further intimacy. She’d said too much already. Carrie clamped her teeth together and tried not to squirm.
The silence dragged on for an eternity.
Finally Frank said, “You mentioned doing other kinds of research besides genealogy.”
“Yes.”
“What kinds?”
Choosing her words carefully, she said, “Titles, missing heirs, that sort of thing.” Which was technically true.
“Ah. Missing heirs. Sounds intriguing. Found any folks in Naconiche County who have inherited a bundle from a long-lost relative?”
She laughed. “Not yet.”
“I think everybody has had the dream that some long-lost relative rolling in dough will kick the bucket and leave a fortune to them.”
“Do you have any long-lost relatives?”
“Only my mother’s great-uncle Heck Tatum. He went to California and was never heard from again.”
“When was this?” Carrie asked.
“I’m not exactly sure. Sometime before 1920, I believe.”
“You never know. He may have struck it rich in real estate.”
Frank chuckled. “I doubt it. From what my mother tells me about Uncle Heck, it’s more likely that he wound up in jail than in the money. He was the black sheep of his family. I think he left here just one step ahead of the sheriff.”
When they arrived at the tearoom, Carrie meant to duck out and go to her room for a few minutes, but she was so intrigued by the tale of Frank’s errant relative that she forgot her plan and walked with him to the door.
“What did he do?” she asked.
“You mean, to get the sheriff after him? As I recall the story, I believe that Uncle Heck made his living cooking moonshine and stealing cows. Folks around here don’t cotton to cattle rustling. Back then it was sometimes a hanging offense.”
“Hanging?”
“Yep.”
A few people were waiting for tables, but Frank waved to someone. “There are Dad and J.J. Come on, we’ll join them.”
“Oh, I don’t want to horn in when you’re having lunch with your family.”
“You wouldn’t be horning in. Come on.”
He steered her to the table for four.
J.J. and the older man stood as they approached, and Frank introduced Carrie to his father. Wes Outlaw was tall like his sons and she could see the family resemblance except that his dark hair was gray, his fingers were knobby and his waist had thickened a bit. He had the same great smile, and it flashed across his weathered face when he told her to call him Wes.
“I was just telling Carrie about Mama’s great-uncle Heck.”
“Ah, the cattle rustler,” Wes said.
“And the moonshiner,” Carrie added.
Wes grinned. “Nobody around here was bothered much by the moonshining—fact is, most folks bought a jug from him now and then, I understand. But stealing cows is serious business.”
All three of the Outlaws were raconteurs, and they kept her entertained during lunch with funny stories about some of the lawless characters in the county’s history. They seemed to enjoy topping one another’s yarns.
As they lingered over coffee and dessert, Carrie laughed as J.J. told in great detail about the night that a young man and his friends had a few too many beers and put a pig in the mayor’s Cadillac. “That pig made a big mess,” J.J. said.
“It didn’t,” Carrie said, laughing.
J.J. grinned. “It did. All over everywhere.”
“I had a hard time,” Frank said, “keeping a straight face when those kids were brought before me.”
“What did you do to them?”
“Gave them a stern lecture and made them put in a lot of hours of community service.”
Carrie glanced at her watch, then looked around the room. The place was almost deserted. “Sorry, but I have to go.” She reached for her wallet.
“Today’s on me,” Frank said.
“I’ll get the next one.” Why had she said that? What happened to the resolution that she wasn’t going to spend any more time with Frank Outlaw? She mentally shrugged. What was the harm? She enjoyed his company; she liked his family. No big deal. In a few weeks she’d be in West Texas or Oklahoma on her next project. She was going to take a page from Amanda’s book and live for the moment.
She said her goodbyes and went to her room to work.
“MIND IF I CATCH a ride back to the courthouse with one of you?” Frank asked over a second cup of coffee.
“Be glad to drop you off,” his father said. “Say, I like your young woman. Seems to have a head on her shoulders.”
“She’s not my young woman,” Frank told him. “She’s just someone in town for a few days to do some research.”
“What kind of research?”
“Genealogy,” J.J. said.
“And titles and missing heirs,” Frank added.
“Hmm,” Wes said, rubbing his mouth the way he always did when he was thinking. “What kind of titles?”
“Land, I imagine. She spends a lot of time in the tax office.”
“Did you invite her to go with us to the musical Saturday night?” J.J. asked Frank.
“Uh, no.”
“Why the hell not? She’s single, good-looking and fun to talk to. Ask her.”
“I’ll think about it.”
J.J. gave an exasperated snort. “I’m going to the kitchen to see Mary Beth.”
Wes pushed back his chair. “You ’bout ready to go?”
“Anytime. Just don’t you start on me.”
“Start on you? About what, son?”
“About Carrie.”
His dad held up his hands in surrender. “I won’t say a word.”
CARRIE WORKED in her room for the entire afternoon. There were some serious gaps in the information she’d gathered so far. She was going to have to run down some deeds, land titles and some missing heirs. She hadn’t lied about that to Frank. One of the tough things about her job was locating heirs when property owners died and didn’t leave a will. Texas had very specific guidelines about who inherited in such cases. Figuring out who owned what could get complicated.
This part of her job required patience and persistence. It was often easier simply to talk to the existing landowners and get information to at least point her in the right direction, but since Uncle Tuck wanted things kept quiet as long as possible, she was handicapped in her search. If she ran into too many problems, she’d have to start questioning the locals. Maybe that’s where Millie the librarian might help.
After working at her computer for several hours, Carrie felt as if she was going cross-eyed. She saved her work, then stretched and got up. No wonder her eyes were tired. It was growing dark. But at least her material was organized, and she was ready to start work at the county clerk’s office the next day.
She thought about jogging, then remembered that this was the night Mary Beth taught aerobics. She ate an apple, washed her face, then changed into her sneakers and workout clothes.
By the time Carrie arrived at unit two, several women had gathered.
Mary Beth looked up and saw her. “Hi, Carrie. Come on in and let me get you acquainted with everybody.”
She led her to two women and introduced her to Ellen, a blonde who was in real estate, and Dixie, a brunette who was in remarkably good shape for a mother of six children. Mary Beth said, “These two are my best buddies from high school. Can you believe that we used to be cheerleaders together?”
Carrie laughed. “I was a high school cheerleader, too. It seems like eons ago.”
She also met Dr. Kelly Martin, a stunning green-eyed redhead, whose long curls were held atop her head with a big yellow clip.
“Dr. Kelly is the person you want to see if you break your leg or get the flu,” Mary Beth said. “The best doctor in Naconiche.”
Dr. Kelly grinned and stuck out her hand. “Hi, Carrie. I hope you don’t need to see me professionally. Are you new in town?”
“No, just visiting for a few weeks.” Carrie studied the doctor’s face. “You look very familiar to me. Have we met?”
“I don’t know. I was just thinking the same thing. I grew up in Dallas. Did you?”
Carrie shook her head. “Did you go to the University of Texas?”
“Sure did.” She smiled knowingly, then mentioned the name of a sorority.
Memories flashed through Carrie’s mind, and she smiled as well. “Kelly Martin. Now I remember. You were a year or two ahead of me. But your hair was long and straight then, and you wore glasses.”
“I’ve had Lasik on my eyes, and I don’t have time anymore to blow-dry this mop into submission every morning. It’s great to see you again. You look gorgeous as always. It’s those eyes I remembered.” Kelly turned to Mary Beth. “Would you believe that Carrie and I were sorority sisters at UT years ago?”
“You’re kidding! That’s wonderful.”
“Are you going to be in town over the weekend?” Kelly asked Carrie.
“Sure am.”
“Fantastic. Let’s get together Sunday afternoon and catch up.”
They made plans for a late lunch, and there was barely time for a brief exchange of names with four other women before the class began. One of them was named Millie. The librarian? Carrie wondered.