Stalked In Conard County

But she had a good life, she reminded herself as the kettle whistled and she made a fresh cup of tea. Maybe, however, she’d caught a touch of her dad’s wanderlust. Maybe that was making her think of leaving everything behind to move to Wyoming.

Although moving here didn’t sound so fantastic after last night. But stamped in her brain like a tattoo was the memory of the moon and seeing that guy peering in, silhouetted against its light. Sheesh, maybe she’d seen a werewolf or something.

The tea tasted good and energized her. There was definitely a nap in her future, but she had wanted to sort through the sideboard in the dining room, with its drawers full of treasured table linens and, once upon a time, a bag of candy corn for a little girl who could have a few if she was very good.

A smile danced across her lips as she carried her cup into the dining room and set it carefully on a hand-crocheted doily that she remembered making when she was about nine. Imagine Grandma saving that all these years. A warmth suffused her and she faced the real reason she wanted to stay. For all she’d built a life in Baltimore, this was the only place that had truly meant home to her.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor, she pulled out the bottom drawer. Carefully folded tablecloths filled it, and the scent of lavender aroused her senses.

“Haley?”

It sounded as if Roger was at the top of the basement stairs. “I’m in here,” she called back. “Need something?”

“Lunch,” he admitted as he entered the dining room. She felt him stand just a little behind her. “That’s beautiful,” he remarked.

She reached out and touched the top layer, a carefully handcrafted lace table cover. As her hand brushed it, she heard the layers of protective tissue underneath rustle slightly. “Lots of history here,” she said. “You want me to make lunch?”

“Heck no. I was thinking about running out and picking something up. You want?”

It was still early, but the egg and toast had vanished some time ago. A glance toward the Regulator caused her to wonder where the hours had gone. She hadn’t done that much. Had she? Maybe dozed while she was sitting here, given last night.

“Sure,” she said after a moment. She started to close the drawer, but Roger squatted beside her and surprised her. “There’s a story in that drawer.”

She glanced at him and saw his expectant smile. “There probably is,” she admitted. “The sad thing about us when we’re young is that we aren’t always interested in stuff that might be important later. I have a vague memory of Grandma telling me that this drawer holds tablecloths and napkins that belonged to her mother and grandmother. Maybe her great-grandmother. I wish I remembered. Anyway, this top one? Hand-crocheted by my great-grandmother, if I remember correctly. This is a drawer full of antiques and lost memories.”

“That’s at once neat and sad.”

“Yeah.” She slowly pushed the drawer in. “She did try to tell me. The drawer above has her personal tablecloths. The ones she used frequently. They’re pretty, I remember that much. And this top drawer? I believe it holds her family silver. It also held candy corn for me.”

He laughed at that, bringing an answering smile to her face. “I don’t suppose someone in your family would know the history of the tablecloths?”

“Not likely. I don’t think my dad would have been even as interested as I was, which isn’t saying much. Not guy stuff, you know?” She got herself to her feet and pulled the top drawer open. To her amazement, a small, tied-off bag of candy corn sat in one corner. She touched it with a fingertip and felt her eyes burn as she blinked back a few tears. “Aww, Grandma.” After all these years. Then her gaze fell on some ceramic squares, maybe an inch-and-a-half on each side, the glaze crazed from the years, but not so much that the brown pattern wasn’t visible. “Butter dishes,” she said. “Now, those did belong to my great-great-grandmother. I think Grandma said they were well over a hundred years old when she showed them to me. See, I do remember something.”

Beside them was the big, flat, wooden box that held silverware. The silver was probably tarnished and in need of good cleaning by now. Flora had let some things go over time.

Haley slid the drawer closed and when it stuck just a bit, she decided she needed to wax the runners. “This house is full of treasures,” she told Roger. “I just wish I knew more.”

“Maybe some of her friends know something. She had a pretty tight-knit group at the church. I’m sure they’d be glad to share anything they know.”

“Good idea.” She faced him. “Do I need to change into something that doesn’t look like it came from a rag bin?”

He laughed. “For around here, you look fine, like any other hard worker. Grab whatever you need. Did Flora ever take you to Maude’s diner?”

“Probably.” She shook her head a little as if trying to free a memory. “Is that the one called the City Diner now? Just off Main?”

“The same.”

That brought another smile to Haley’s face. “Now, there’s another story. I guess I should close the windows.”

Roger hesitated. “Usually, I’d say it’s not necessary. But after last night…yeah. I’ll go around and help you.”

Though it was only a few blocks to the diner, Roger insisted on driving. “You had a rough night. A walk might really wake you up, but a good meal might help you nap.”

She certainly didn’t feel like arguing. She’d been feeling like a squirrel on high alert since the middle of the night, and no matter how much she thought she was relaxing, even having slept briefly shortly after four, part of her clung to a deep tension. Man, she had to get over this. So some random creep had peered in her window. He’d leave her alone if she kept the curtains closed, and eventually he’d peep in a window where someone would recognize him. Anonymity, she remembered her grandmother saying, didn’t come easily in these parts.

The streets looked so familiar to her, though, and soon she forgot the night and began remembering being outside on a breezy summer afternoon, jumping rope, playing hopscotch, or just sitting on the grass and looking up through leafy trees at the bottomless blue of the sky. When Roger’d had some free time, he was kind and would bring over a board game. Together they’d sit on the porch for hours playing Parcheesi, backgammon or checkers. Often her grandmother had brought them a pitcher of fresh-made lemonade, tart and sweet all at once.

She glanced his way again and noted once more how the gangly kid had filled out. In all the right ways, too. A surreptitious smile caught her mouth as she quickly looked away.

“You said there was a story about this diner,” Roger remarked as he steered them into a parking place almost directly in front of it.

Haley noted that it hadn’t changed much in the intervening years. “Yeah,” she said after a moment. “Way back when, around the time this place was first being settled, my great-great-grandmother—at least I think it was, I keep losing track of the greats.”

“Can’t imagine why,” he answered lightly as he turned off his truck’s ignition.

She laughed. “There’s a lot of them. Anyway, about the turn of the twentieth century, or just before, my ancestors settled here. Grandad opened an apothecary and, right off it, my grandmother at the time opened a lunch counter. I hear it was quite busy with folks who traveled through by train. The tracks aren’t that far from here, as I recall.”

“They’re near, not that you can tell that often anymore. Few enough trains come through here.”

She nodded and pointed at the diner. “It was right there. Anyway, Grandma said they retired just before the war and their son sold it to whoever Maude inherited it from.”

“Your roots go deep around here.”

“Some of them. Others kind of sprang up elsewhere. Grandma didn’t talk a lot about it, but you know Miss Emma, right? The librarian?”

“Doesn’t everyone?” he asked wryly. “Founding family.”

“Exactly. The McKinseys weren’t far behind.”

“Another reason to stay,” he remarked lightly. Then he climbed out and came around to open her door for her. “Eat well,” he said as he helped her down. “Food is good and plentiful and, with any luck, you’ll be lights out by sunset so you can catch up on your sleep.”

“That’d be nice.” Fatigue hadn’t reached her yet, but she figured her nursing schedule had made her reasonably immune to the occasional long stint. She could handle it for a while. Tonight she would probably crash into a dead sleep, disturbed by nothing short of an emergency.

Inside, the diner was reasonably quiet, just a few of the tables busy. Either they were ahead of the lunch rush or behind it, but they had no trouble getting a table in the back. Haley had little desire at the moment to sit in front of a window. Sheesh, she thought, that needed to stop before the fear dug in.

Maude, who looked as if she hadn’t changed a bit in twenty years, slapped menus in front of them and filled coffee cups without asking. “Got fancier stuff now, if you want one of them lattes.” Then she peered at Haley. “Well, well, well. Heard you was in town. Wondered when you’d show up.”

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it? How are you doing, Maude?”

“Same as usual. Mavis is helping me out these days, but she’s got a lot to learn.”

Haley figured Mavis would never learn enough to suit her mother. Maude was born to be a dragon.

“Sorry about Flora,” Maude added, surprising her. “A good woman.” Then, “Order up. The grill’s still hot.”

Amusement caused Haley to look down at the menu. Some things never changed, like the menu here and Maude’s crusty attitude. Of course the grill was still hot. It’d be hot until close of business tonight. Although that seemed a gentler than usual way for Maude to hurry them along.

“Is the steak sandwich still as big as I remember?” she asked Roger.

“Big enough for two meals, you mean? Easily. And as tasty as ever.”

She settled on that, thinking it would save her having to worry about making a meal this evening, assuming she was still awake.

“I’m hardly settled,” she remarked to Roger as they waited for their orders to arrive. “I’m twixt and tween, mainly because I can’t make up my mind. Am I cleaning Grandma’s house to ready it for sale? Or getting it ready to move into? I think that’s a question I need to answer.”

“It might help with what you’re doing.”

Of course it would. Then it struck her that she’d dumped all over him about the Peeping Tom, she’d shared her family’s history, had let him work in her basement without making any arrangement to pay him…and she hadn’t even been polite enough to ask about him or his family.

“I was thinking earlier,” she began cautiously and then paused as their lunch platters were slammed in front of them and the coffee cups refilled. The banging platters was a Maude-ism she’d never forgotten. It would be easy to think the woman was always angry.

“You were thinking what?” Roger asked as he lifted half the huge sandwich in hands that were big enough to handle it easily.

“About you. We hardly know each other after all this time, but you were one of the bright spots in the summers when I visited Grandma. Awfully patient with a young girl.”

One corner of his mouth crooked upward and his green eyes crinkled at the corners. “First of all, I was only a few years older. That probably seemed bigger back then than it really was. And second, you were someone new, which was nice, and you were good at board games, which I used to love. Why wouldn’t I hang with you when I could find time?”

“You must have been working awfully hard with your dad, though. And how’s he?”

“Retired. He’s living in Oregon now with his brother Tim’s family, working a small horse-rescue facility.”

She laughed. “He calls that retired?”

“It’s different,” Roger pointed out, returning her laugh with a chuckle. “Now eat.”

She was only too happy to take a bite of the sandwich. It was every bit as good as she remembered, with impossibly tender steak. She had to grab a napkin as juice ran down her chin. “You must be awfully busy running the business by yourself now.”

“Not as busy as I could be, I guess. I get orders from all over for custom saddles these days. It depends on how much I want to travel and how long I want to be away. And that’s good because there are other things I like to do.”

“Like fishing?” she asked, and they both shared a laugh.

“Like fishing. Like hiking in the mountains. Sometimes I even want to go cross-country skiing. I can work those things in if I’m careful about the jobs I take.”

“So I take it there’s no one else you have to report to?” That was the most indirect way she could ask if he had his own family. A question that suddenly seemed of burning interest to her.

“Just myself. Only child. My mother died long ago in a riding accident. I don’t think you ever met her.”

Haley racked her brains while eating another mouthful of the heavenly sandwich. “If I did, I don’t remember.”

“She wasn’t easy to meet,” he offered. “She used to help Gideon Ironheart with training horses. That man’s a genius with it. Unfortunately, my mother decided to saddle-break a mustang, and the horse wanted no part of it. Or her.”

“I’m sorry.”

He tilted his head a little, a mild shrug. “It’s been a while.”

“I think I’m living proof that some things don’t stay in the distant past.” She looked down, wondering why she was casting a shadow over this meal.

“No,” he agreed, “they don’t.”

Change the subject, she advised herself. She could get gloomy later on her own time. “How’d you guys get into making saddles? It’s not the first occupation that would spring to the top of my mind. Of course, my dad was a wildcatter before he settled into contracting with larger oil companies, an independent who drilled exploratory wells, and I don’t suppose that would be at the forefront of anyone’s mind, either.”

He laughed. “Maybe in this part of the country it might. But as for saddles? Well, we get back to grandparents and even greats again. My family were shoemakers back East. My great-grandfather was a very young guy, maybe eighteen, when he decided he was bored with making shoes. He was working for his uncle, who reminded him that people always needed new shoes or shoe repairs, and thus there was always plenty of work. My great-grandad didn’t care. He wanted something different, maybe with a dash of adventure. So he apprenticed to a saddle maker, where his leather skills were useful. When he struck out on his own, he settled here, repairing saddles back in the days when ranches were thriving and there were plenty of cowboys. Eventually he found plenty of work making custom saddles and here we are. I repair them, I build them from the very bottom up, and make tack, as well. Keeps me busy enough.”

“I can’t imagine what goes into that.”

“Layers and layers,” he said jokingly. “If you have time one day, stop by. I’ve got three in the works right now.”

“Three?” The idea surprised her. She guessed she had imagined him working one from start to finish.

“All at different points in the process. More efficient if I can swing it. It helps to take my time, too. The most important thing is the horse’s comfort, so every fit is custom. If I hurry anything, I might blow it.”

“And when you finish one?”

“Me and the saddle pay a visit to the horse to make any adjustments necessary. Usually there aren’t many because I start off taking care with my measurements.”

That fascinated Haley. “I never thought of saddles as being a custom fit.”

“Any owner who can afford it, and who gives a damn about the horse, sees to it. Horses don’t all come in the same size, and an ill-fitting saddle can cause problems. But when the horse is no longer being ridden, for whatever reason, the saddle doesn’t have to be ditched. I can modify it to fit another equine.”

So complicated. Her initial interest had arisen from the unusual nature of his work. Now she began to imagine just how complex it could be, and how much knowledge might be necessary. “Like being a doctor,” she said slowly.

That caused him to laugh. “I don’t know that I’d go that far.”

After lunch, with their leftovers in insulated containers, they drove back to her grandmother’s house. The sun was still high, the day warm, and the streets active with kids and adults engaged in everything from play to shopping to yard work.

Bucolic. Perfect. She closed her eyes, breathing in the fresh air that blew through the window, and let her thoughts drift to dreams of staying here.

But as soon as they pulled into the driveway, all of that washed away. Little prickles of fear returned, but she tried to quash them ruthlessly. A stupid Peeping Tom. Was she going to let that pervert ruin everything?

No, she told herself. Absolutely not.

But the discomfort wouldn’t quite leave her. Even as she went back to looking through drawers and closets, it pursued her.

She hoped they’d catch the guy soon, or she might be hightailing it back to Baltimore. Even though she was now not at all sure that was what she wanted.

Downstairs in the basement, working on the last of the ducts, Roger thought over all he’d learned from Haley. Given that she’d been abducted through her bedroom window as a small girl, he was kind of surprised she wasn’t ready to pack and leave.

He hated to think of how she must have felt here alone in this house after seeing the peeper at her window. She sure as hell should have called the police rather than suffer through agonizing hours of memory and most likely overwhelming fear.

Anyone would have been unnerved but, given her past, it had to have been truly awful.

Just how awful had been revealed by her statement that reporting the matter to the police would make it all real. He wondered how hard she had clung to the idea that she’d imagined the man at her window. How much effort she had spent controlling her fear and trying to tell herself it hadn’t really happened, that it wasn’t going to happen again as it had when she was a child. That it couldn’t happen now that she was grown.

Son of a… He bit the cusswords back before they could begin to emerge. The idea of a Peeping Tom was bad enough. No one wanted to think their privacy was being invaded while they slept, all so some sicko could get a charge. Yeah, windows would get locked and curtains drawn. Anyone would do that. But add to that a past kidnapping and the whole ballpark changed.

He bit off another cussword as a piece of metal duct slipped and sliced his finger. Being experienced with home repair—his own and Flora’s—he’d come prepared and was able to get a bandage out of his tool kit.

He liked this kind of work. It used his body and mind in a different way from saddlery, gave him a different kind of workout. It was almost fun. Well, mostly fun, especially as a change of pace. There were occasional tasks that were just plain irritating, but most of the time he liked working with his hands.

Finally he had to call it quits for the day. He needed an elbow joint and another three more feet of ducting to make everything fit tightly. When he finished, he wanted the heat to come on without all that rattling. Yeah, the ductwork would tick as it heated, but it shouldn’t shake and bang as if it was about to fall apart.

Which it had been, he acknowledged as he packed up his tools. Flora had let it go way too long, probably because it had become background noise. Or maybe because she didn’t want to impose. God, he hoped not. He’d tried over the years to make it clear to her that he didn’t at all mind doing odd jobs around her house.

Roger supposed he needed to make that clear to Haley, too. If she didn’t hightail it back to Baltimore after last night.

He hoped she wouldn’t. He’d enjoyed their time together and, in the privacy of his own mind, he could even admit she was one sexy woman. Regardless of his own feelings, the decision would be hers, and he had the sense that right now she was fragile.

Well, why not?

Picking up his tool kit, he headed up the stairs and turned the lights off behind him. The basement stairs opened onto a mudroom just off the kitchen. As he walked through it, he saw Haley standing by the counter with a box in front of her.

“Find something interesting?” he asked.

She looked over her shoulder at him. “Photos. I’ve been pulling them out one at a time and trying to figure out who everyone is.”

“Oh, man,” he remarked. He put his kit on the floor against the wall and came to join her at the counter. A big stack of photos, all right, most of them black-and-white, indicating age.

She gave him a rueful smile. “Why don’t people ever think of labeling?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because the people at the time knew who everyone was. Why would they consider that fifty or more years down the road someone who hadn’t even been born yet might want to know?”

“Probably.”

He spied one that he recognized. “Hey, that’s my granddad. I didn’t know Flora had that.”

He lifted it from the box. “Man, he was young then. Look at him.”

Haley leaned in closer. “You look a lot like him.”

“Maybe that’s why I recognize him. He was a lot older when I came along.”

She pointed to a corner of the photo. “That looks like part of a sign.”

“Yup. It’s still there, much older and painted different colors. McLeod’s Saddlery and Tack.”

“You should keep this, then. One mystery solved.”

He didn’t argue, merely slipped the photo into his breast pocket. “I’d be happy to go through those with you. Maybe some of them will ring a bell for me.”

“Thanks, I’d like that.”

So, apparently she hadn’t decided to leave just yet. He gave her points for courage.

“You know,” she said after a moment, “this whole day there’s been an undercurrent of sadness for me.”

He leaned back against the counter so he could see her face better. “Sorrow?” And here he’d been thinking of her fear.

“Yeah, but not exactly. That’s a strong word. It’s just that I’m going through things that people considered important enough to keep, but I don’t know why. So much is lost.”

“Maybe your dad could help? Flora was his mother, right?”

“Yeah.” She left the box on the counter and went to put the kettle on. “Maybe I can persuade him to come home for a visit. He’s awfully busy, especially after he fell behind on drilling because of Flora’s funeral.”

“How do you fall behind on drilling?”

She surprised him by laughing. “Danged if I know. I just know when he kissed me goodbye before getting on the plane, he said he had a backlog he needed to catch up on, so he might miss a few phone calls. Can I make you some fresh coffee?”

“I need to run to the store to get a few more things for the ductwork. How about I do that and come back after?”

“I’d like that, Roger. I can’t tell you how nice it is to reconnect with you.”

“Same here. Okay then, I’ll be back as soon as I get all the parts.”

She was still smiling when he left. He almost felt like whistling.

Across the street, the beefy man walking a white Yorkie watched Roger pull out of the driveway, then stared at the house for a few minutes before moving on. Edgar Metzler was a regular sight at this end of town, although usually he walked Puddles, his dog, in the early morning or evening, varying according to his schedule.

Haley McKinsey was still there. Maybe that McLeod guy was making her feel safe…

Edgar would give it another day or two, but if she didn’t leave town, he was going to have to do something stronger than look in her window.