An Accidental Hero (13 page)

But this wasn’t to be one of those times.

Lamont stepped halfway out of the teller’s line.
“You’re up mighty early for a fella who comes callin’ in the middle of the night.”

Reid had two choices: Keep walking—and appear disrespectful and guilty—or face the man.

He stopped dead in his tracks, removed his hat and shades, and looked Lamont in the eye. “Didn’t want to wake the whole house by phoning. I was worried about Cammi.”

Lamont’s bitter chuckle echoed in the high-ceilinged, marble-floored building. “Decent man would have waited till morning.”

The implication was clear. “Duly noted,” Reid said, nodding.

He’d barely got his hat back on when Lamont added, “In the future, you’d be wise to avoid my spread…and my daughter.”

He looked into the man’s face, saw years of anger and resentment, grief and regret written in every crease. This was neither the time nor the place for an all-out confrontation, but one thing needed to be said. “Cammi’s a full-grown woman, capable of making up her own mind about…things.” He paused to give his words a moment to sink in. “I give you my word—I’ll honor any decision she makes.”

His eyes mere slits now, Lamont said, “If my girl is so much as considering spending time in your company, then she’s lost her cotton-pickin’ mind.”

Reid stood as tall as his six-foot frame would allow and squared his shoulders. “Maybe so,” he said, donning the sunglasses, “and maybe not.”

He walked toward the double glass doors and stepped outside. Despite the bright sunshine, Reid felt the chill of Lamont’s icy glare. If they’d been living
in the days of Billy the Kid or Wyatt Earp, what he’d said to Cammi’s father just now would’ve been dubbed “fightin’ words.” Who was he kidding? It didn’t matter that the calendar said “Twenty-first Century”; Lamont London still lived by 1800s principles.

He’d stay away from River Valley Ranch out of respect for the man, but it would take an act of Congress to keep him from Cammi. As soon as she was able, he’d take her out for a night on the town. Afterward, he’d get her alone someplace and spill his guts, tell her the truth, that is, if Lamont hadn’t spilled the beans already. If she decided it’d be too hard, living life with the man who’d killed her mother, well, it would hurt to the bone, but he’d accept it.

Behind the wheel of Billy’s pickup now, he poked the key into the ignition. He sat for a moment after cranking up the truck’s motor, staring straight ahead, seeing nothing. Life would be tough enough without Billy, but Reid believed he could stomach it, with Cammi by his side. Without her, though…

“Lord,” he whispered through clenched teeth, “if You’re up there, I sure would appreciate a hand up, here.”

Reid finished up his business in town, then headed straight home. He was tempted to take the turn-off that led to Cammi’s place, but the scene in the bank made him decide against it. No telling how long before Lamont returned to the ranch, and Cammi was in no condition to witness a brawl between her father and him.

About a mile before the Rockin’ C drive, a shiny
black SUV with black-tinted windows barreled down the road, leaving a wake of road grit and dust in its wake. He recognized its stern-faced driver instantly. Reid knew there was nothing—not a store or restaurant, not even a gas station—between here and River Valley Ranch to bring Lamont so far out of his way.

Nothing except Reid himself, that is. Maybe, in that spirit of the Old West, Lamont had decided to call Reid out, insist on a showdown at sundown, a duel at dawn.

A foul mood descended upon him as he wondered how long he’d have to slink around, avoiding the Londons, skirting their ranch. When would they accept that he’d simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time and stop hating him for what had happened that night?

Something told him “never” answered all three questions, and his already dark mood deepened.
Quit feelin’ sorry for yourself, Alexander,
he thought.
It’s your own fault, after all.

He should’ve listened to Billy when he tried to talk Reid out of going to the cemetery on the morning of Rose’s funeral. But Reid had been certain it was the right thing to do. He’d prayed on it, he’d insisted, and he had to do what he felt the Lord wanted him to do.

Turned out the visit only made matters worse. Far worse. If he’d known what would happen when he borrowed a white shirt and tie from Billy, when he got Martina to press a sharp crease into his blue jeans, when he hitched a ride into town, then hid in the stand of pines behind Rose’s grave, waiting for her family and friends to pay their last respects…

As the last mourners led the teary-eyed London
girls to a waiting black limo, Reid made his way across the velvety lawn to where Lamont stood, stiff and silent, one hand over his eyes, the other on Rose’s casket.

“Mr. London?”

Slowly, he faced Reid. “What’re
you
doing here?”

Back then, Lamont stood head and shoulders taller than the fourteen-year-old boy and outweighed him by fifty pounds. Still, Reid stuck by his “do the right thing” decision. Stiffening his back, he said, “There’s somethin’ I need to say.”

Lamont went back to staring at the coffin. “Well, don’t that just beat all,” he said, mostly to himself. “The boy needs to say something.” He cast a surly glance at Reid. “I don’t care what you need. Now get yourself on home. You’re foulin’ the air, just by standin’ there.”

Reid picked at a hangnail on his thumb. Picked so hard he started it bleeding. Stuffing it into his jeans pocket, he cleared his throat. “I came here to say…I’m sorry, sir, mighty sorry about what happened the other night—”

Shoulders hunched and fists doubled up at his sides, Lamont whirled to face Reid again. “Are you deaf, boy?” His eyes all but shut in a fierce frown, he snarled, “Not just deaf, but dumb, too. Didn’t I make myself clear at the hospital the other night? I pray to God I never lay eyes on you again!”

Reid took a step back and winced, prepared to take a hard right to the chin—or worse. He could have turned tail and run, but the way Reid saw it, he had a beating coming. That, and then some! Because although everyone—the police, witnesses on the scene,
doctors and nurses in the E.R., Martina and Billy—insisted the accident hadn’t been his fault, Reid hadn’t swallowed a word of it. It was Lamont’s hateful speech outside the O.R. that rang true in his young mind: He’d killed a wife and mother. Maybe Lamont was right—maybe there
had
been something Reid could’ve done to prevent the crash. He’d likely never know for sure, but if whalin’ the tar out of Reid would make Lamont feel better, well, he owed the man that much.

He’d opened his eyes when Lamont said, “Don’t worry, boy. I won’t sully myself by layin’ a hand on the likes of
you.
”

It had taken quite a while to figure out what that meant. Even now, the knowledge created a hard knot in Reid’s gut. It would have done his conscience a world of good if Lamont
had
thrashed him back then in the graveyard.

He steered the pickup into the Rockin’ C drive, parked it beside the detached garage and stomped into the house, where Martina stood at the stove, stirring something in a deep pot. “What was Lamont London doing here?” he asked, hanging his jacket on the wall peg.

She sighed. “Looking for you.”

“Me?”

She nodded somberly. “You, and answers. Why you paid his daughter a call last night, what kind of relationship you have with her, what your intentions are—”

“Who’d he talk to, you or Billy?”

“Billy, mostly.”

Reid grit his teeth. Billy was in no shape to be dealing with that man. “If he riled him, I’ll—”

She sent him a confident smile. “If anyone got riled, it was Lamont.” She went back to stirring the contents of her pot. “I’m afraid he didn’t get what he came for.”

“What
did
he come for, if not answers to his questions?”

Martina laid the ladle in a bright rooster-shaped spoon rest. “To lay down the law, to deliver a list of do’s and don’ts to you.” Grinning, she winked. “But Billy set him straight.”

The scent of spicy tomato sauce wafted in the air, and she closed her eyes to inhale a whiff. “Mmm. I haven’t made spaghetti sauce in ages. Lunch’ll be ready in half an hour or so,” she announced, sliding another pot from the cabinet. “You have plenty of time to get cleaned up.” The noodle kettle sat in the sink basin under the tap water. Martina stuck her forefinger into the hissing stream and added, “Time for a quick nap, even.” She shot a maternal glance over her shoulder. “I imagine you could use one, seeing as how you didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“I’m wide awake,” he admitted. Running into Lamont at the bank, seeing him again on the road, learning he’d been here, had jarred Reid enough that he’d probably have trouble falling asleep even hours from now.

After supper that evening, Reid put Billy to bed, then helped Martina with the dishes. When the last pot was dried and put away, she kissed him good
night. “Don’t stay up too long,” she said, mussing his hair.

“Don’t worry, I’m just gonna watch the TV news for a spell, then I’ll come up.” At the foot of the stairs, he wished her sweet dreams and headed for the family room.

The telephone on the end table beckoned him. He lifted the receiver, then glanced at the clock. Only nine, he thought. Too late to call her?

Only one way to find out…

He dialed her number, holding his breath, hoping she’d answer, or that her youngest sister would pick up.

“Lamont London.”

He gave a sigh of frustration. “Reid Alexander,” he said matter-of-factly. “I’d like to talk to Cammi.”

There was a long pause before Lamont said, “I need to talk to you, Alexander. Can you meet me at Georgia’s Diner?”

“When?”

“Now.”

Reid swallowed. “I reckon I can be there in half an hour.”

“Fine.”

Reid stared at the buzzing earpiece, wondering what Lamont London wanted with him. Well, he’d find out soon enough, wouldn’t he? Reid dashed off a note and propped it against the salt and pepper shakers in Martina’s spotless kitchen.
“Went to Georgia’s for a confab with Lamont London,”
he wrote.
“If I’m not back by morning, send in the S.W.A.T. team.”
And he signed it,
“Love, Reid.”

He drove slightly more than the speed limit, hoping
to establish some kind of home-turf advantage by arriving first. Unfortunately, Lamont must have had the same notion, for when Reid pulled into the parking lot, he saw the man, backside leaning against the fender of the enormous black SUV, arms folded over his chest and gray Stetson riding low on his forehead. The instant he saw Reid, he uncrossed his booted ankles and stood, feet shoulder-width apart.

“Evenin’,” Reid said, walking toward him.

Lamont gave a halfhearted salute and one nod of his head. “Evenin’.” He started for the diner’s entrance. “Thanks for agreeing to meet me.”

“No problem,” Reid said, opening the door. He stood aside as the older man entered. “You made good time getting here.”

Lamont removed his hat. “There wasn’t any traffic.” He led the way to a table in the rear of the restaurant and pulled out a chair. “Coffee?” he asked when the waitress came over.

Reid nodded at the girl. “No cream, no sugar.”

“Ditto,” Lamont agreed.

She scribbled on her pad and left them alone with their frowns. A minute of complete silence passed before she delivered the coffee and moved on to take another order.

Lamont spoke first. “Guess you’re wondering why I asked you to meet me here.”

Reid began making an accordion out of a paper napkin. “You could say that.”

“About…the accident…” Lamont cleared his throat, coughed into a weathered fist. “Just wanted to say…maybe I was a mite hard on you back then.”

Lamont was a proud, stubborn man. This apology
hadn’t come easy. Reid saw no point dragging things out, making him grovel. “I’d have done the same in your shoes,” he admitted. “Or worse.”

Lamont met Reid’s eyes, held his gaze for what seemed an eternity before saying, “I’ll admit, it still doesn’t set well—your courtin’ my girl, that is.”

Courting.
Reid took a long, slow sip of his coffee, thinking Lamont would have fit in real well back in the Wild, Wild West days. “I wouldn’t worry too awful much about me courtin’ Cammi if I were you.” He unfolded, then refolded the paper accordion. “I haven’t told her yet that it was me behind the wheel of that truck.” Reid took a deep breath, exhaled. “She’ll likely send me packing when she finds out.”

A strange expression darkened Lamont’s face, and it puzzled Reid.

“I just wanted to clear the air in case…” Lamont winced. “I want Cammi to be happy, is what I’m tryin’ to say.”

“She’s been through a lot lately,” Reid agreed. He shook his head. “I know it sounds squirrelly, me talkin’ this way so soon after meeting her, but I’m crazy about that girl of yours. If she’ll have me, if she can find it in her heart to forgive me for…” Reid didn’t think he needed to spell out why, not to Lamont of all people. “If she’ll have me,” he said again, “I swear, I’ll do right by her.”

Lamont drained his mug, put it back onto the table with a
thud.
He tipped it this way and that, watching the remaining drops of coffee swirl around in the bottom of the cup before saying, “Then I reckon as long as we’re in agreement on that, you ’n’ me don’t need to be best friends, now, do we?”

“No. I reckon we don’t.”

So they’d come to an understanding. Cammi’s happiness was more important than what either of them wanted. Lamont had as much as agreed to give his blessing—
if
his daughter wanted Reid.
Mighty big “if,”
he said to himself.

“Well, guess that about says it all,” Lamont said, standing. He unceremoniously threw a five-dollar bill on the table and pressed the Stetson into place on his head, then extended his right hand. “I don’t know if I would have come here, in your shoes, so thanks for meeting me.”

Reid gave his meaty hand one hearty shake. “No, sir,” he said. “Thank
you.
”