Peggy Dulle - Liza Wilcox 04 - Saddle Up (14 page)

We heard a woman scream.

Tom’s head flipped around and he said, “Damn it!”

Those seemed to be his favorite words these days.

“Stay here.” He pointed to the bench and ran toward the scream.

CHAPTER 14

Of course, I took off after him a few seconds after he ran down the street. I’m just not the kind of person who can sit idly by when something is happening.

I followed Tom, who followed the screams. When I turned a corner I saw Tom holding a large man against the wall. The man yelled obscenities at Tom and swung his arms back and forth trying to strike Tom but Tom leaned his full weight into the man’s back and pulled his wrist around as he pulled a set of handcuffs from his back pocket. There was a young woman crying and huddled on the ground. Her pink halter top was ripped almost clean off and her knees were bloodied.

I ran over, put my arm around her and said, “Can you walk? Let’s get you out of here.”

I recognized her as one of the girls we saw earlier. What had this girl been thinking when she dressed this evening? The pink halter top barely covered her breasts and the tight blue jean shorts were only a centimeter below her butt. She had been looking for love and what she found was man in a drunken rage.

“What’s your name?” I asked when we got out of the alley. I could smell the beer on her breath, too.

“Brenda Sanders,” she said, wiping the tears from her face.

“How old are you?”

She hesitated.

“That’s not a trick question, Brenda.”

“I’ll be seventeen on my next birthday,” she said defiantly.

“That makes you only sixteen and underage,” I glanced at my watch. It was a few minutes before eleven. “Why are you out here so late?”

“I was walking home from getting an ice cream when I ran into stupid Bruce.”

“Bruce what?”

“Bruce Stanford. He’s a senior and on the football team. He thinks he’s God’s gift to the town’s women.”

“How’d you end up in the alley with him?”

“Well, I …,” she stuttered, looking around wildly.

“Again, not a trick question, Brenda.”

“He said he had a six pack of beer in his truck and it was parked in the alley behind the ice cream shop.”

“No beer?”

“No, we got into the alley and he grabbed my hand and pulled me against the wall. Then he leaned against me. He smelled awful – like beer and hamburgers. He tried to kiss me, so I pushed him away.”

“He had his hand on your top and it ripped when he pushed you or did he actually try to rip it off?” I asked.

She lowered her head and said, “It tore when I pushed him away.”

Then the name hit me. “You’re Doc Sander’s daughter?”

“Do you know my dad?”

“We met today and I don’t think it would be okay with him that you are out drinking and wearing practically nothing,” I said.

“No, but he’s too busy these days to notice anything I do.”

“Doctors are always busy, Brenda. You should know that.”

“I’ve dealt with that since my mom died ten years ago, but now he’s going out with that bitch, Priscilla. She owns the world and thinks she should own my dad, too.”

“It’s hard when a parent starts dating again,” I told her. I don’t know what I would do if my dad brought someone else home for the holidays.

“It’s not just that, she’s got him running around and doing her bidding, like he’s a dog on a leash.”

“I saw him set up an urgent care clinic, was that her idea?”

“No, he does that every year during rodeo weekend. She’s sent him to the power plant, the lagoon, and every little small town in the area. He even went into Sacramento for her last week. He’s like her trained pet.”

“What’s he doing for her?” I asked.

“I don’t know, running some kind of tests, doing physicals and delivering stuff. He’s never home anymore,” she whined and pulled up her ripped top again.

“I’m surprised he lets you go out dressed the way you are,” I said.

When she didn’t answer, I repeated my earlier words, “Again, not a trick question.”

“I’ve got a change of clothes stashed in a bush in front of my house. I change and then go into the house,” she said reluctantly.

Tom came around the corner dragging Bruce, who was handcuffed and had calmed down.

“Let’s get the two of you down to …,” Tom looked around and said, “I’ve got to call the county sheriff’s department and get them down here. I can’t take them to Earl. He’s not a real cop.”

“No!” Brenda screamed. “It was just an accident. Bruce was giving me a ride home and I slipped and fell on the way to his truck, tearing my top.”

Tom narrowed his eyes at the girl. “Then why were you screaming?”

She glanced at me, then quickly said, “I saw a mouse in the alley. It scared me.”

“Yeah,” Bruce caught on quickly and chimed in. “I was just giving her a ride home. It’s not my fault she saw a mouse and screamed like an idiot.”

“I am not an idiot!” Brenda yelled.

“I’d stop while you’re ahead,” Tom said, turned Bruce around to uncuff him, then leaned over so his face was next to Bruce’s ear.

I heard the low guttural voice I had heard Tom use before. “And remember that she’s underage – that’s statutory rape even if she tells you it’s okay. In the eyes of the law she can’t give you consent, so that means no alcohol and no sex! I could have you picked up by the county sheriff and booked for attempted rape, even without her backing up the statement.”

Was that true? I wasn’t sure and neither were Brenda or Bruce.

Bruce’s eyes widened.

Brenda’s eyes were almost as big as Bruce’s and she said. “No, look, I’m sorry. This is my fault. I shouldn’t have
accepted the ride and gone down
the alley with him. I knew he’d been drinking and can get a little pushy.”

Tom narrowed his eyes at Brenda and said, “It’s never your fault. Even if you’re dressed like a hooker and smell like beer, you still have the right to say no and this moron better learn that or someday he will be having his own problems in a little jail cell with a roommate named Bubba.”

Sweat poured down Bruce’s face.

Tom reached into Bruce’s pocket and took out his car keys, and then he released Bruce and said, “You go home. We’ll see that she gets home safe.”

“How am I supposed to get there without my truck?”

“Walk. Maybe you’ll be sober by the time you get home.”

“How am I going to get my truck keys back?”

“I’m staying at Sheryl Ann’s house; you can come and get them tomorrow.”

I knew that it would give Tom another chance to impress upon Bruce the consequences of mixing alcohol and underage girls.

Tom pointed down the street. “Now get out of here before I change my mind.”

Bruce took off without even saying goodbye.

“I can find my own way home,” Brenda said, turned and stomped off down the street.

Tom put Bruce’s keys in his own pocket, took my hand and said, “We’ll just follow her to make sure she goes home.”

Brenda stomped and Tom and I strolled behind her all the way back to the doctor’s house.

“It’s the doctor’s sixteen year old daughter,” I explained.

Tom looked at the girl and said, “Sixteen?”

I nodded.

When Brenda reached behind a bush and brought out a bag, Tom snatched it out of her hand. “I think your dad might be interested in how you were dressed tonight.”

Brenda glared at him. If looks could kill, Tom would be a goner.

When she started to go around the side of the house, Tom snatched up her arm and said, “I think the front door is a better choice.”

She gave him another killer stare, but turned and continued her stomping toward the front of the house. When she tried the front door, it was locked. “See, I always go through the back door.”

“Ring the bell,” Tom told her.

“But it will wake up my dad.”

Tom smiled at her.

Brenda blew out an exasperated breath and leaned on the bell.

A few seconds later it was opened. Doc Sanders looked like he had just gotten in since he was still dressed in his earlier attire. He took one look at his daughter and his eyes narrowed. “I thought you went to bed at 9:00, at least that’s what you said when you called me earlier this evening. So what are you doing at our front door after eleven?” Then he finally noticed her attire and bellowed, “And what the hell do you have on?”

She brushed by him, muttering, “Like you care or would even notice!”

Doc turned and said, “Brenda!”

“I’m going to bed!” She ran up the stairs.

He ran his hands through his hair and said, “Thanks for bringing her home. I don’t know what’s gotten into her. She used to be so easy to get along with.”

“She’s a sixteen year old girl with no mom and a father who is very busy and has a new girlfriend,” I suggested.

Tom handed him her bag and added, “Negative attention is better than no attention.”

“I’ve been so busy helping Priscilla set up a clinic system that I haven’t been much of a dad these days. There are so many people out of work around here and they don’t have any health care. We got a state grant a few weeks ago, so maybe I can hire someone to help out.”

“That might be a good idea. Teenagers may seem like they want to be independent, but they still need and want their parents involved, even if they won’t admit it,” Tom said.

Doc nodded.

Tom and I left and walked back toward the boarding house. It was 11:30 and the streets were still full of cowboys and young girls. Most of the businesses had finished setting up so they were closed, but the bar was in full swing. The line extended around the block to get into the place. We walked without talking. I enjoyed people watching, but Tom didn’t. He just shook his head and muttered to himself.

“How’d you get so smart about teenagers?” I asked when we got near Sheryl Ann’s house.

“Dealing with them is about ninety percent of my job. I spend more time counseling parents and driving their teenagers home than anything else.”

“You’ll be a pro when Michael gets that age.”

“No, I’ll screw that up. It’s different when it’s your own kid. I can be so calm when someone else’s teenager is falling down drunk or caught in the backseat of their car with part of their clothes missing.”

“Do you realize we will
be in our late forties when we have teenagers?” I said after adding fifteen to my age.

“Yes, I just figured that out myself. That’s a good reason to get married and start now. You don’t want to be raising a teenager and applying for AARP at the same time.”

“We still have the issues of where we will live and who will give up their job and home,” I reminded him.

“Fine, I’ll quit and sell my house,” Tom said.

I stopped walking and turned to him. “But you love your house. I love your house.”

“Then you quit. I don’t care where we live, honey. I just think at our age we should get this party started.”

“Feeling old?”

“Watching all the cowboys picking up the young girls, I realized that I am old! They all look like they’re only twelve years old.”

I put his face in my hands. “You’re not old, you’re perfect for me.”

He leaned in and we shared a long kiss.

The door opened and Sheryl Ann said, “Take that upstairs, will you?”

Tom and I laughed.

Just the
n the truck with the big tires squealed to a stop and Stan jumped out.

“You know you can’t park behind the boy’s trucks!” Sheryl Ann yelled.

“Stupid cowboys!” Stan yelled as he got back into his truck and threw it into reverse.

“They’ve all got to be at the rodeo grounds in the morning and then at the Saddle Club for the luncheon. Stan won’t get out of bed until after noon,” Sheryl Ann explained.

“Stan doesn’t compete or help with the rodeo events?” I asked.

“No. He had some problems a few years ago, so I don’t want him around the arena.”

“What kind of problems?” Tom asked. He was always in cop mode, just like my teacher mode when we go to an amusement park and a child gets out of line.

We all stopped talking as Stan jogged up the stairs and said, “Hi Liza, who’s your friend?”

“This is my fiancé, Tom,” I told him.

“Hi, Tom.” He turned to Sheryl Ann and said, “I saw Brenda tonight. She looked real pretty.”

“I’m glad, Stan. It’s time for bed.”

He kissed Sheryl Ann on the cheek and said, “Good night, Auntie.”

Stan went inside and Sheryl Ann answered Tom’s question. “A group of cowboys at the rodeo were drinking Jack Daniels and trying to rope a steer. They weren’t using horses, just running and trying to throw the rope. They didn’t realize that Stan’s IQ is only 65 and that he’s easily manipulated. Let’s just say he ended up naked and asleep under the stands. He woke up when the people started arriving for the rodeo. He was scared and embarrassed. Luckily Doc was there and took care of him.”

“He likes Brenda?” I asked.

“Yes, he’s had a crush on her since he was seven and she was five.”

“You’ve had him since he was that young?”

“My brother couldn’t handle having a child with special needs, so he left him with me for a summer once and never came back for him. I signed him up for school that fall and he’s been with me ever since.”

“Does he have any contact with his dad?” Tom asked.

“On birthdays and holidays my brother, George, sends a card or comes by but he can’t spend more than a few hours with Stan before he gets frustrated.”

“It takes an exceptional person to take care of a special needs individual day after day.” I told her.

She nodded and smiled, acknowledging the compliment.

“That reminds me,” Tom said, pulling Bruce’s keys out of his pocket. “Can I leave these someplace so this kid can come and get them tomorrow?”

“Bruce is acting like an idiot again?” Sheryl Ann mused.

Tom nodded and handed her the keys.

“I’ll just give him my consequences-to-your actions lecture when he comes to pick them up.” Sheryl Ann smiled, then turned to me and asked, “By the way, how are you feeling?”

I looked at her. What was she talking about? Oh, did Doc tell her? No, he wouldn’t.

“I’m fine,” I told her.

“Doc said you stopped by his office this morning.”

“Just my allergies acting up,” I said.

I saw the confused look on Tom’s face. I didn’t have allergies.

“Well, you best get her off to bed,” Sheryl Ann said, holding the door open for us to enter.

When we got into our room, Tom grabbed his toiletries bag and said, “I’m going to go down the hall to the bathroom and brush my teeth.”

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll use Sheryl Ann’s bathroom.”

Sheryl Ann’s room was painted a light yellow, decorated with butterflies, and smelled of vanilla. She had a magnificent quilt embroidered with colorful butterflies on her bed and a throw in the same motif on the rocking chair next to a bay window.

After I brushed my teeth, I used the vanilla scented bar soap on the sink to wash my face and then dried it with a thick white towel. I wasn’t sure what to do with the towel. Do I take it with me or leave it in the bathroom?

I carried the towel out of the room and found Sheryl Ann sitting in the rocking chair, working on the blanket I saw her crocheting earlier in the evening.

“What do you want me to do with my towel?”

“You can have the right side of the rack across from the vanity.”

“Thanks.” I went back, hung up the towel and then said, “Goodnight, Sheryl Ann.”

“Is there anything you can’t eat in the morning?”

“Excuse me?” Her words startled me and I turned before leaving the room.

“I know that some woman have trouble with food in the morning. I don’t want to make something that will make you sick.”

I stared at her.

“No, Doc didn’t tell me, I guessed. You look healthy as a horse so that only leaves one reason to go to a doctor that’s not in your home town.”

I wasn’t even sure what to say at this point. This little lie was getting totally out of hand.

“And after your crack about allergies, I gather Tom doesn’t know.”

“No,” I answered honestly.

“Well, I’m not going to tell him. I’m sure you have your reasons. What about breakfast?”

“I can eat anything you can cook.”

“Great, then I’ll see you in the morning.”

When I got to our room, Tom was sitting at the end of the bed.

“Why aren’t you in bed?”

“Something hit me when I was washing up.”

“What?”

“How come in the last hour two people have told me to get you into bed?”

Oh crap!