Witchdependence Day: A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Short (Wicked Witches of the Midwest Shorts Book 8) (10 page)

Then, as the whispers grew to a feverish pitch, a light flashed and the poppet on the floor exploded, causing me to jump as small fabric fragments flew across the room.

The women released each other’s hands and cleared the way so Aunt Tillie could move to Dutch’s side.

“Is it over?” I asked.

“It’s over,” Thistle said, leaning over to offer me a hug. I gladly accepted it as I pulled her body flush against mine.

“Is he okay?”

“I don’t know,” Aunt Tillie answered, resting her hand against his forehead. “Now we have to wait. We’re not out of the woods yet.”

W
e waited
.

Bay took to pacing, while Clove sat on the floor with her back flat against the wall, and Thistle leaned her head on my shoulder. At first I thought Thistle needed solace, but then I realized that’s what she offered me.

We waited some more.

Bay became antsy and called Landon. None of us knew whether that was the right decision, but she had to follow her heart, and she could never justify lying to Landon.

We continued waiting.

Dutch never moved, and by the time Landon let himself into the office I’d pretty much resigned myself to losing the man. I’m not a pessimist, but he was still far too long.

“How is he?” Landon asked, opening his arms so Bay could step between them and pulling her tight against his chest as he hugged her.

“It’s too soon to tell,” Thistle answered. Part of me thought she was lying to protect me. Hurting me was the last thing she wanted to do. The other part remained hopeful.

“What do we know about him?” Landon asked.

“His name is Dutch Jenkins,” I supplied. “I found him by some trees out behind the stable. He admitted to stealing food, including the bread and pie. He also slept in here some nights. I’m not pressing charges, so don’t even think you can talk me into it.”

Landon arched a challenging eyebrow. “Did you really think I would try to make you press charges against him?”

I shrugged, flustered. “No. I just … I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Landon said. “Everyone looks beaten down here. Can someone explain to me why he’s not at a hospital?”

“He didn’t want to go,” Bay replied, her voice small as she glanced up to lock gazes with Landon. “He told Marcus no one would miss him, and he was terrified of going to prison. He didn’t have much fight left in him, but that was his final wish.”

Landon brushed a strand of hair from Bay’s face as he studied her somber blue eyes. “Okay,” he said. “We’re going to have a lot of questions to answer if he dies.”

“He’s not going to die,” Aunt Tillie said. She hadn’t moved a muscle since concluding the spell, her hand wrapped tightly around Dutch’s as she offered him comfort only she could see. “He’s going to be okay.”

“Is that witch’s intuition?” Landon asked.

“It’s faith,” Aunt Tillie replied. “You should know all about that. I see it reflected in your face every time you look at Bay.”

Landon exhaled heavily as he shook his head. “You know, every time I think I have you figured out you do something that throws me for a loop,” he said. “You’ll go weeks on end being evil and plotting against everyone, and then you do something like this. I don’t understand you.”

“And you never will,” Aunt Tillie said, winking at him. “All you need to know is that Marcus needed help and I was happy to give it.”

“I don’t know how long I can let this go on, guys,” Landon said. “He needs to go to a hospital. I know he doesn’t want to go to jail, but if Marcus and Winnie don’t press charges … .”

“We have another problem,” Thistle interjected, cutting him off. “He stole from one other place.”

Landon rested his chin on the top of Bay’s head and waited.

“It was Mrs. Little,” I supplied. “He stole candy.”

“Oh, well, of course,” Landon hissed, rocking Bay as he considered our options. Several weeks ago the Winchester witches had a showdown with Margaret Little that almost left several people dead. Her nefarious deeds were made public, but there was nothing left to blackmail her with. “I’ll talk to Chief Terry and see if she filed a report.”

“She did.” Hemlock Cove’s police chief, Terry Davenport, strolled into the office. He didn’t appear surprised to find a homeless man near death on my cot, or four of the Winchester witches in attendance. “She wants the culprit prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. He stole three bucks worth of candy.”

“I’ll take care of her,” Aunt Tillie said, her eyes flashing. “She and I have some unfinished business to settle.”

“She thinks you stole her candy,” Chief Terry said.

“I’m going to set that candy on fire and shove it up her … .”

Landon cleared his throat and shook his head in warning. “Now is not the time for that,” he said. “How did you know we were here?”

“Well, let’s see,” Chief Terry began ticking off items while running his hand over the back of his neck. “I saw Clove and Thistle take off from their store a couple of hours ago. They looked to be in a hurry. Then I saw Bay running over from the festival. It’s a little hot to run … and she never runs.”

Bay’s smile was rueful. “He’s right. I’m really lazy.”

“I’ll fix that later,” Landon said, petting her head. “So you knew something was going on just because they all ran to the stable?”

“Oh, no. You’re the one who tipped me off to that,” Chief Terry said.

“How?”

“You got a call from Bay, and instead of being all flirty and gooey you got a weird look on your face and went outside,” Chief Terry answered. “That usually means trouble. I decided to follow you … and listen outside because I was curious … and then I decided to help.”

“Really?” Clove looked relieved.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t help, Clove?”

“I don’t know,” Clove replied. “Aunt Tillie told me to work up some tears just in case I had to cry to manipulate you.”

Chief Terry scowled. “Don’t tell her to do stuff like that. It bugs me.”

“You bug me,” Aunt Tillie said. “It evens out.”

“Whatever.” Chief Terry glanced at me. “You did a good thing here, son. I would’ve preferred him going to a hospital, but I understand why you did what you did.”

“You might not say that if he dies,” I pointed out.

“Probably not, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Chief Terry said. “Right now I want to move forward on the assumption that he’s going to survive. How much care is he going to need?”

“He should be fine after a couple of days,” Aunt Tillie replied. “He’ll be weak and need a lot of rest, but he should make a full recovery. I’m an excellent doctor. I could do it professionally if I wanted.”

“Yes, and what a bedside manner,” Chief Terry said. “Do you guys have a room at The Overlook?”

“He won’t like that,” I argued. “He’s big about paying his own way and not owing people.”

“He stole pie and bread,” Chief Terry argued. “He’s going to have to learn to accept help, whether he likes it or not.” Chief Terry can be gruff, but he has a giving nature. “We need to find him a job and cover for why he’s in town.”

“You want to lie?” I was stunned.

“That’s the wrong way to look at it,” Chief Terry said. “We need to be sure that Margaret Little never finds out who he is because she’ll press charges just to spite Tillie.”

“I said I would take care of her,” Aunt Tillie said. “She’s had something special coming from me for as long as I can remember.”

“Oh, well, that’s good,” Bay deadpanned. “We won’t have to worry about Dutch going to jail. We’ll just send Aunt Tillie in his place.”

“Listen, spaz, I’ve had just about enough of you for one day,” Aunt Tillie snapped. “Don’t worry about Margaret Little.”

“I agree with Chief Terry,” Clove announced. “I think we should lie.”

“I don’t know whether to smack you or proclaim how proud I am,” Aunt Tillie said. “Why do you think we should lie?”

“I don’t think we should tell a big lie,” Clove clarified. “I think we should just lie about when he got to town.”

I caught on to what she was saying right away. “You think he should recuperate out of sight and then miraculously show up in Hemlock Cove to start his new job at the stable.”

Thistle shifted toward me. “At the stable? Are you going to hire him?”

“You said yourself I need help,” I reminded her. “He can help. He can stay in the office once he’s feeling better and earn enough to get back on his feet.”

“I’ve got some work for him, too,” Aunt Tillie said. “I need to find out why he was trying to steal from my … herb … garden, though.” She darted a look in Chief Terry’s direction and pretended she didn’t see his pointed scowl. “I still don’t understand what he was doing out there.”

“I asked him while I was waiting for you to show up,” I supplied. “He had no idea what I was talking about. He had no idea you were growing … oregano … on the land. You don’t have to make up something to cover that. He said he went out to the inn because they always had food and the women were hot.”

“Hey.” Chief Terry shook his head. “Those are my women.”

“Excuse me?” Landon made a face and pulled Bay closer. “This one is mine.”

“I was talking about the other three,” Chief Terry countered. “If he thinks the younger ones are hot we’re going to have a problem. They’re children.”

“Oh, now I feel dirty,” I said, earning a reproachful look from Thistle. “Don’t worry. I’ll get over it.”

“I’m already over it,” Landon said. “We need to get a plan in place before he wakes.”

The fact that he didn’t mention the possibility of Dutch not waking warmed me. “We need to get him to the inn without anyone seeing,” I said. “Mrs. Little probably knows everyone is here. I wouldn’t be surprised if she figures out a reason to stop by.”

“I wouldn’t put it past her,” Chief Terry said. “If she sees Dutch, the game is over. She’s going to put two and two together and realize what’s happening. She’s not stupid.”

Aunt Tillie snorted. “Yes, she is.”

“We need to protect this man, Aunt Tillie,” I pleaded, hating how weak I sounded. I wasn’t used to begging, but I was willing to do it if necessary. “Please help us.”

“Of course I’m going to help,” Aunt Tillie sniffed. “You don’t need to worry about Margaret, though. I said I would handle her.”

“And how are you going to do that?” Landon challenged.

“Don’t you trust me?” Aunt Tillie pasted an “I’m old and you have to believe what I say” smile on her face. “Don’t you have faith in me?”

Landon locked gazes with her as he ran his tongue over his teeth. “Okay,” he said finally. “You need to distract Mrs. Little. We’re going to get Dutch in my Explorer because it has tinted windows. We just need time to get him from here to my vehicle. Can you give us time?”

“Of course,” Aunt Tillie said, squeezing Dutch’s hand one more time before releasing it. “I already have a plan.”

“Oh, well, good,” Bay said. “I can’t wait to see this.”

“You will,” Aunt Tillie said. “I’m going to need help.”

“Oh, man!” Bay made a face. “Why me?”

“I think it’s karma,” Thistle said, grinning.

“Keep it up, mouth,” Aunt Tillie said, sliding her a dark look. “I need your help, too. Before you think you’re getting away with something, little kvetch, your assistance will also be necessary.”

Clove didn’t look bothered by Aunt Tillie’s conversational shift. “Fine.”

“I have a great plan,” Aunt Tillie said, beaming.

“Of course you do,” Thistle grumbled. “I can already tell this is going to bite.”

“And yet I know you’ll do it anyway because you love Marcus,” Aunt Tillie said. “That’s one of the few things I never doubt when you’re around.”

Pride and love washed through me as Thistle shifted her eyes to me. I knew she was on board before she uttered a word.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“Of course,” Thistle said. “I was always going to help. I just hope Aunt Tillie’s plan doesn’t land us in jail.”

“That would be nice for everyone,” Chief Terry said. “Okay, let’s move. Aunt Tillie … you’re on.”

F
OUR
hours
later Thistle sidled up to me on the sidewalk in front of the police station, her eyes weary but her smile genuine.

“There you are,” I said, grinning. “I was wondering when you would make your way back to town. I didn’t know whether you were in hiding.”

“Feathers are harder to get off than you might imagine,” Thistle replied. “Especially when Aunt Tillie sticks them on you with magic.”

I had no idea how Aunt Tillie and her great-nieces distracted Margaret Little. I heard rumors. One included an absurd story about a tribal dance in the middle of Main Street. If it was true, part of me was sorry I missed it. Dutch’s smile when he woke – and the look on his face when Marnie, Twila and Winnie doted on him – more than made up for it.

“Feathers, huh? Did you look like a chicken?”

“Aunt Tillie used chicken bones in her voodoo curse,” Thistle replied, stepping closer and tilting her chin up so she could meet my gaze. “That’s what she told Mrs. Little we were doing, by the way. Supposedly we put a voodoo curse on her so the dead would rise and stalk her. The tourists loved it.”

“And how about you?”

“I hated it.”

“I figured,” I said. “Thank you for doing it anyway. Dutch is … overwhelmed … with how everyone is treating him.”

“He’s a good guy,” Thistle said. “I think he’ll make a great addition to the town, once we can introduce him the right way. I stopped in and saw him before I left the inn. He’s doing well, and our mothers are fattening him up even as we speak. I think everything is going to turn out okay.”

“I think so, too.” I cupped the back of her head and pressed a warm kiss to her forehead. “Still, you went above and beyond with your chicken dance.”

“I don’t know, but the look on Mrs. Little’s face made the dance worth it,” Thistle said. “She ran into her store and pulled the curtains to hide. She kept screaming that Aunt Tillie was trying to kill her.”

“I wish I’d seen it.”

“Chief Terry filmed it with his phone after helping load Dutch into Landon’s Explorer,” Thistle replied. “I have a feeling you’ll get to see it eventually.”

“And that’s the highlight of my night.”

Thistle pressed a soft kiss to my lips, her face unreadable. “Can I ask you something?”

“Always.”

“Why didn’t you call the ambulance this afternoon? Dutch was in no position to fight you.”

“He served our country and all he wanted was a little respect,” I replied. “I needed to give him that.”

“You’re a good guy, too.”

“And you’re a great woman,” I said, tightening my arms around her. “Do you want to celebrate the Fourth of July holiday with me? The fireworks start in an hour, and I’ll win you another stuffed animal if you ask nicely.”