Can't Stop Believing (HARMONY) (23 page)

“You ready to go?” Beau broke into her daydream.

“Sure. I’ll be renting space in this place soon enough.”

They walked back to the car.

“Why were you waiting on my porch? Mrs. Biggs finally wise up to you guys and lock you out of her kitchen?”

“No, I came to see you.” He opened her car door. “I need to ask you what you think I should do.”

Martha Q wiggled into her seat. “So many people want advice from me lately, I’m thinking of moving to a mountaintop and becoming a sage. If it wasn’t for having to wear robes and put up with eagles flying low, I’d probably be gone tomorrow.”

Beau slid behind the wheel. “Can we make this about someone else besides you for a moment, Mrs. Q?”

“Of course.” She thought of pouting, but at some point her round, plump face started to look pumpkin-fat when she even thought about twisting her lips together.

Beau turned so he could face her when he said, “I think whoever reached for Ronny last night wasn’t going after her, but he might have been wanting to talk to me.”

“What?” She was sure her eyebrows went so far up they moved into her hairline. “How in the world did you come up with that? Even people who hate country music don’t want to grab the singer.”

“No. Hear me out. We live in the same place, just different sides. Ronny’s tall, almost exactly my height. We both wear black coats. In fact, we got them mixed up the other night when Border and I took her out after we played.”

“Okay, black coats. Same height. It’s not exactly a
CSI
plot.”

“We both walk at night in the shadows. She does it even more, I think, since Marty came back. Last night, when she was walking, it was about the time I usually take my break. I sometimes walk for a few minutes just to enjoy the clear air and the silence from the bar.”

“You both walk. Not much to make me believe your theory, Beau.”

“All right, how about this? Can you think of one reason anyone would want to hurt Ronny Logan?”

“No, I can’t.”

“Well, Harley, the guy who owns the bar I play in, said he saw two beefy types hanging out behind Buffalo’s Bar late one night last week. He said they were staring at my old car. He tried to talk to them and they claimed they just needed to talk to me. When he started to ask more questions, they disappeared.”

“Maybe they wanted your autograph?”

Beau tried again. “Not likely. Harley said they were sober. If they were fans, wouldn’t they have been inside listening?”

Martha Q studied him. “Be honest with me. Are you seeing some woman? Maybe another man’s wife or a rich rancher’s only daughter? These guys could have just wanted to tell you to get lost.”

Beau shrugged. “Yeah, I kind of am seeing someone, but nobody knows about it.”

“If what you’re saying is true, then I think there is a good chance someone does know about it. They might not want you seeing whoever you’re seeing. Maybe the rich daddy hates the thought of long-haired grandsons, or the husband just hates. You might ask this secret lady if she’s married and her husband wants you beat to a pulp. It’s been my experience that affairs usually stop about the time the couple starts to talk.”

Beau nodded. “So you’re agreeing with me that maybe these guys did want to talk to me, and I’m thinking they got Ronny last night instead.”

“Maybe. Anyone else you know who might be waiting in the dark to have a talk with you?”

“My dad. He tells everyone I’ve gone over to the dark side. I’ve heard his sermons usually have me in them somewhere as the bad example.”

Martha Q’s head was starting to pound from too much figuring. She didn’t even like mystery shows. She was always worn out by the time they solved the murder. Sometimes she’d flip channels during the commercials and miss the show’s ending. Then she’d stay up half the night wondering who did it.

“We’d better get home, Beau. You probably need to practice, and I need a nap. We’ll worry about this tomorrow. Problems never seem so bad when they’re warmed over.”

A
PRIL
12

A
T
HALF
PAST
MIDNIGHT
THE
FIFTH
GENERATION
OF
Wrights in Harmony came into the world. He weighed six pounds, fourteen ounces, and his daddy, Tyler Wright, thought he was the most beautiful baby ever to be born.

McAllens, Mathesons, and one Truman filled the waiting room. The three families who’d built Harmony stood ready to welcome Jonathan Henry Wright to town, just as they’d welcomed his great-grandfather almost a hundred and fifty years ago.

Tyler walked through the double doors of the delivery room with little Henry in his arms, knowing that they all wished the first Wright born in forty-six years well. He also hoped that “Hank” would grow up to watch over the people just as he had, and his father, and his father, and his father.

“My Kate says if you want to hold the baby, you got to wash your hands and put on a mask first.”

Noah McAllen shouted, “The kid’ll think he’s been born into a band of outlaws. Come on, Mr. Wright, we just want to look at the little fellow.”

A few others grumbled.

“That’s Kate’s orders. She says when he cries I’m to bring him right back, so some of you better get to scrubbing.” Tyler looked down at the bundle. “Now, son, try to remember everyone’s name when I introduce you. You’ll be needing to know.”

He passed the baby over to Adam McAllen, the oldest of the McAllen family. The tall, lean cattleman had silver in his hair but was smiling wide. They’d brought a saddle to the hospital for little Henry Wright.

The Matheson women made a quilt for the baby, and the sheriff and her husband gave him his first spurs. Tyler lost track of all the trucks and baby clothes. It didn’t matter. He was thankful for the friends more than the gifts.

Reagan Truman hauled a five-foot apple tree right into the hospital foyer for her gift. She said by the time he could climb, the tree would be ready for him.

Tyler was glad a few minutes later when Hank let out a yell and the doc said visiting hours were over. He wanted to take the baby back to his Kate.

All the people in the waiting room waved the newborn good-bye, as if he’d notice. Tyler fought back tears of joy.

If a man’s heart could burst with love, he knew his might. He’d never considered himself good-looking, or smart, or talented in any way, but he always tried to be kind. Maybe that was the secret, because he could ask for no more in life than what he had.

In the morning, a little after dawn, there would be a funeral for Marty Winslow. Tyler would leave Kate and go by the home to change clothes, and then he’d do his job as he had all his adult life. But his family would never be out of his thoughts. From now on, no matter how sad the day, he’d be heading home smiling. Kate would be waiting, and they planned to spend their days watching Jonathan Henry grow.

Maybe that was how his great-grandfather had felt when he’d nailed a hand-painted sign on the fence by the road after his crops failed. The sign said simply: W
ILL
U
NDERTAKE
A
NY
H
ONEST
W
ORK
. The first Henry Wright hadn’t set out to become an undertaker; he’d just wanted to feed his family, and he’d found a way to help the entire community.

“Tyler,” Kate whispered as she held the baby close against her. “Now, we begin.”

“Yes, my Kate, now we begin.”

A
PRIL
12
H
ARMONY
C
EMETERY

C
ORD
STOOD
STONE
STILL
AS
HE
WATCHED
THE
HEARSE
winding slowly up the hill. He couldn’t remember attending a funeral before he went to prison, and he hadn’t been able to attend either of his parents’ burials. This was his first time.

He’d expected only a few people, but there were at least forty. Most folks didn’t know Marty, but they knew Ronny and they’d stand beside her this day.

The long black funeral car stopped in the middle of the road and Tyler Wright climbed out. He opened the back and six men slowly pulled out a plain wooden casket. Three tall businessmen in their early forties on one side and the Biggs brothers on the other, with Beau Yates sandwiched between them.

As they moved up the hill the last few feet, Cord felt Nevada’s hand slip into his. He wondered if she had any idea how much he wanted to run. He was twenty-eight and staring eye to eye at death for the first time. When he’d been told his mom and then his dad had died, he hadn’t reacted at all. He’d been too hard by then to care. Nothing changed. The next day was the same hell as the day before. So Cord guessed their deaths didn’t seem real. Nothing did back then. He’d shut down, turned off all emotion. After a few months in prison, a light went out that he thought would never turn back on.

Only it had. One thing had happened that made him care if he lived or died. Cord felt like he was standing in death’s garden coming alive again cell by cell.

He tried to remember the exact moment it happened. Not when he got out of prison. Not when he went back home. Cord McDowell had come alive the day that Nevada had driven up on his land and asked him to marry her. He couldn’t name the exact moment his heart started beating again, but it was around the time he realized he was going to take her offer no matter what the conditions.

Before that day he should have been taking his pulse every morning just to make sure he was among the living.

Nevada tugged on his hand and they began to follow the others toward the grave. Ronny sat in the front row with Mr. Carleon on one side and Martha Q on the other. Cord had no problem telling which were Marty’s family and friends and which were there for Ronny.

City folks and country folks, he thought. Someone had said that Marty’s brother had been in London and told them to go ahead with the funeral without him. There were a few fashion statements there who looked bored and antsy to leave. They must have been his cousins from Oklahoma City. Ronny’s friends looked truly sad as they huddled near her; most had their work clothes on because as soon as the funeral was over they’d head back to work.

Beau opened his guitar case and pulled out an old Gibson. He began to play. For a while the music filled the dawn air like a scented breeze, and then his low words blended with the notes. He sang a song about the “never weres” in life, the things we never do, the words we never say, and how we pile them up over the years we walk this earth so we’ll have something new to do in heaven. When he finished, everyone had tears in their eyes. There didn’t seem a need for any eulogy, any prayer. Beau’s song had done it all.

Cord didn’t hear most of the rest of the service. He was too wrapped in his own thoughts. The bad thing about coming alive after ten years was that now he thought about dying. He’d never been afraid of dying. First he’d been too young, and then in prison he hadn’t cared. He’d seen more than one inmate carried out on a stretcher with a blanket over him, and all he’d thought was that the guy was free.

When everyone stood and began hugging, Cord pulled Nevada to him so hard she whispered, “Let me breathe, Cord.”

He loosened his grip and kissed the top of her head. “Sorry. I thought this was the hugging time.”

Last night had been the first time they hadn’t made love in a week, and somehow the night had been sweeter. She’d fretted over his snakebite and been worried about her horses. He was sad because of Marty and frustrated that Cameron hadn’t reported in. So they crawled into bed and just held each other.

She’d whispered about how she wanted to change the locks on the barn and what time she needed to get to work and a hundred other things Cord didn’t really care about, but he loved listening to her whispering in the darkness. It was almost like she was singing him a good-night song.

He also liked the way he could put his hand on her and she didn’t pull away. Sometimes, while she talked, she would reach up and move his hand from one place to another as she wiggled into just the right spot beside him. He didn’t care; touching any part of her felt just as good. He’d never be able to tell her how much her sleeping next to him meant to him.

Hoping to clear his mind, Cord tried to focus on where they were, but it was impossible. Nevada was branded into his thoughts and heart too deep.

When people began to head back to their cars, Cord walked her to her car and asked if she wouldn’t mind waiting while he told Ronny to call if she needed anything. He had no idea what was proper to say, but he needed to talk to her.

To Cord’s surprise, Nevada pulled a card from her purse and handed it to him. “Tell her the same goes for me. I’m in town. If she needs me I could run over to her place.”

Cord winked at his wife. Maybe he wasn’t the only one coming alive.

As he glanced down the line of cars parked in single file all the way to the gate, he noticed a round little woman storming the hill like an invader.

Looking back, he saw Ronny curling down in the grass beside the grave. Crying. Beau knelt beside her, trying to offer comfort, and the three friends of Marty’s stood behind the grave looking sad and helpless.

Border Biggs and his older brother were headed toward Cord, but most others who attended the funeral were pulling away in their cars.

“We got to stop that woman.” Border’s words were low, deadly serious as he reached Cord. “That’s Ronny’s mother, and she’s here to cause trouble.”

Cord noticed a few other people trying to delay the woman’s climb, but she didn’t stop to talk with them. She kept coming. He stood his ground, not sure what was going on, but if they were somehow protecting Ronny, he’d join the brigade.

“Get out of my way,” the woman shouted as she reached the path leading up to the grave. “I got to get to my daughter. She’s making a fool of herself lying in the grass.”

Cord moved, blocking the woman. “I don’t think anyone needs to bother her, Mrs. Logan. Maybe later when she’s rested.”

Border’s brother brushed Cord’s shoulder on one side; Mr. Carleon was on the other.

“If Ronny wants to mourn beside his grave all day, I’d say she has that right. You’ll not disturb her.” Cord wouldn’t touch the woman, but he wouldn’t move out of her way either. He doubted she’d climb the uneven grass just off the path, even in her practical two-inch heels.

Dallas Logan took a step back and looked like she planned to fight. She obviously was a woman used to bullying her way through life.

Cord had no idea what he’d do if the old woman stormed the line. Marty’s three friends in suits joined behind him, looking like they felt sorry for Mrs. Logan, but still they couldn’t let her hurt Ronny. Others backtracked from their cars as if hearing a call to arms. The postmaster, two mailmen, a waitress from the diner, two men who wore fire department shirts, a sheriff’s deputy in a suit too small for him. An army of friends stood between Dallas and the grave.

A standoff. Dallas just glared at them.

To Cord’s surprise, the undertaker walked around them all and reached Dallas Logan.

“I’m so very sorry you were late for the service, Mrs. Logan,” Tyler said, as if he’d just noticed Dallas in the crowd. “I know you wanted to be with your daughter in her time of sorrow. It was a beautiful service and a fine morning to walk into heaven, I think.”

Dallas looked shocked as Tyler took her elbow with one hand and wrapped his free arm around her shoulder. “Why don’t you ride along with me? I’d hate to think of you walking all that way back down to your car. If you took a fall, I’d never forgive myself.” He started moving, leaving her no choice but to follow. “These old roads can be slippery in the morning dew. I’ve got a thermos of hot coffee in my Cadillac. It’ll warm you up and give you time to think about what you need to say to Ronny to help her get through this hard time.”

When the dragon lady halted, he continued, “I remember when your dear husband died. It was such a nice service and all those yellow roses the postmen sent from all over the state made the chapel look so grand. He was much loved, I could tell that right away.”

Dallas broke into sniffles and Tyler patted her.

Everyone watched in amazement as the chubby little funeral director guided her off without stopping his account of the funeral long enough for her to get in a word.

“Man,” Border whispered, “that Mr. Wright is my hero. Did you see how he walked right into the mess that I don’t think most bomb squads would have tackled?”

“It’s his job,” added someone from behind Cord.

“No,” another said, “he’s truly gifted.”

Cord broke from the others and climbed back up to where Ronny lay in the grass. He could hear her sobs even as she tried to keep them inside. The sound hurt his heart to listen.

“She won’t get up,” Beau whispered. “She says she wants to stay here with him.”

Border and Big Biggs joined them as all others moved away, maybe because they couldn’t bear to see her pain or maybe because they didn’t know what to do. Marty’s three friends seemed to be finding their purpose in shuffling Winslow relatives back in their rented cars.

Cord knelt down and put his hand on her back. “Come on, Ronny. Marty would have wanted you to lean on your friends. Maybe that’s one of the reasons he came home, knowing he was dying. He wanted to be with you and he didn’t want you to be alone when his time was up.”

She didn’t seem to hear him.

Cord didn’t know her well, but he couldn’t stand to see her so shattered. He tried to think about what a friend should do, wishing he’d had a little more practice in being one.

He waited as the cemetery cleared of all cars except for a few. “Ronny, it’s time to go. Marty’s not there, he’s gone to another world.”

She looked up. “There is no perfect world, you know.”

“I know.”

Without a word, he lifted her off the ground. She came to him like a child, too broken to protest.

With the Biggs brothers on either side, Cord walked toward the cars still parked along the road. He turned away from the black funeral car with Ronny’s mother inside talking to Tyler.

“I’ll take her home,” Big volunteered. “Put her in my truck.” He pointed to the nearest pickup.

A tall young woman waited by the old white truck. She opened the door to the passenger side as Cord walked closer.

He lifted Ronny inside. The woman crawled in beside her and wrapped Ronny in a blanket. Big climbed in the other side while Border swung into the bed of the truck.

Big slowly drove away.

“Don’t worry, mister,” Beau said when he neared. “We’ll take care of her. Big’s girl said she’d stay with her tonight after Mr. Carleon leaves if she needs someone to.”

Cord smiled. “She’s lucky to be surrounded by friends.”

“We’re just strays nobody wants, but when we get together we make a pretty good family.” Beau waved and headed to his old car.

Cord walked back to Nevada, thinking he fit in that category too, or he would in a few months when the marriage was over. He had no one, and Nevada only had her brother Barrett, who she said called once last year just to tell her he was never coming back. He’d cleaned out all the accounts, sold the ranch to her for all she could raise, and vanished, saying he never wanted a sister anyway.

“Let’s go home,” Cord said to her as he slipped into the passenger seat of her car, very much aware that her place wasn’t really his home.

How would it be to look across his fields and see Nevada’s land after he’d moved back to the farm? She’d made it plain that she’d only wanted him and his name until the first frost. By then the crops would be in, the cattle sold for a good profit.

Then, like she had after every marriage ended, she’d go back to being Nevada Britain. She’d be back in her world and he’d be back in his. Suddenly the money he would walk away with didn’t seem nearly as important as the fact that he’d have to sleep alone again. The clear difference from before would be that he’d miss her every night for the rest of his life.

How could he tell her that he didn’t want this marriage to end? She’d think he was just playing her like the three husbands before. He couldn’t break the bargain they’d agreed on. He’d have to live each day as they’d agreed until the day he walked away.

That day, he’d be just as dead as Marty Winslow was now. They might as well put him in the ground.

“You going into town to your office?” Cord had to concentrate on what had to be done. He forced his entire body to harden because if he didn’t, he’d fall apart. “I’ve got work in the south pasture. I told the men to start on it after breakfast and I’d be out as soon as I could. I’d like to have the fence ready to hold about a hundred head by next week. Sooner we get the cattle on the land, the fatter they’ll be for winter.”