Peggy Dulle - Liza Wilcox 04 - Saddle Up (2 page)

“Thank God you plan to marry someone who doesn’t drink diet soda. Then I’ll always have something I can drink.”

I laughed. “Pick one.”

“I’ll have the root beer. Got any ice cream?”

I raised my eyebrows.

“Stupid question,” he said. “I’ll take a root beer float.”

I fixed us each a float, joined him at the table and set the ice cream and soda between us. Justin can never wait for the ice cream to melt, so I’m constantly adding more soda. I, on the other hand, stir the mixture until it is all melted and then drink it.

“Okay, first off, I have to say, there is a lot more to this rodeo business, than I thought. There are so many different kinds.”

“What do you mean?” I stirred my drink a little faster. I was anxious to drink it since I hadn’t enjoyed a float in a long time.

“Okay, it’s a whole bunch of acronyms – you’ve got the PRCA, CCPRA, IGRA, and the NPRA.”

“What? Wait a minute. Let me get my note pad.” I walked to the coffee table, tore off the top sheet of date doodles, threw it in the trash can under my sink, and sat back at the table. Pen poised for information, I said, “Okay tell me about rodeos.”

“Every state seems to have a professional rodeo association. The CCPRA is California’s; the NPRA is the northwest states, which include Washington,
Oregon
, Idaho and California, again. Then there is the Henry Picket Rodeo – that’s the Black Rodeo and even the IGR which is the International Gay Rodeo. Not to mention the rodeos who specialize in one event or another, like the PBR, the Professional Bull Riders.”

My head spun but I wrote the information down. Maybe it would make sense later,
I thought. “What about the date?”

“The closest rodeo to that date is the one in Oakdale.” Justin took a huge spoonful of ice cream and slid it into his mouth.

“Oakdale?”

“Yeah, it’s in Stanislaus County, about 15 miles northeast of Modesto, at the foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. It’s considered the ‘Cowboy Capitol of the World’ and the gateway to Yosemite National Park.”

“Cowboy Capitol of the World?” I asked as I set down my pen to stir my float and take a sip.

“Oh yeah, they just won that title from Stephenville, Texas, a few years ago. But it’s not just rodeo cowboys, these are real cowboys that work on ranches. Oakdale’s central location in the valley, according to the Cowboy Museum, made it attractive to many young cowhands in the 1950’s and 60’s. During the week they worked on area ranches and entered the rodeo competitions on the weekends. Several of them won rodeo championship titles and brought home awards and acclaim to Oakdale. Again, according to the museum, these rodeo athletes earned over 25 professional world championship titles and countless trips to the National Finals Rodeo.”

“You sound like a commercial,” I told him, spending more time sipping my float than jotting down information.

“Actually, it sounds like a nice place.” Justin took another huge spoonful of ice cream and slid it into his mouth.

“Maybe you can go with me to the rodeo,” I suggested and put another scoop of ice cream into his float.

Justin stared at me, then said, “Thanks for the ice cream but a place with cows, horses, dirt arenas, and cowboys doesn’t sound that cool.”

I laughed. “So when is their rodeo?”

“April 10
th
and 11
th
.”

“That fits with the date.”

“Yeah, but you don’t know if it’s the right town.”

“No, I don’t have near enough information.” I glanced at my yellow pad full of acronyms and rodeo events but no real facts about who, what, or why. The only thing I knew was when.

“We never talk about how you get these weird dates, Teach. What do you think?”

“I don’t know, Justin. The first two were probably by chance. If you research any date on the Internet, you will find something that resonates with you.”

“And the last?”

“I think my dad sent it, even though he says he didn’t.”

“What about the new date?”

“I don’t get it at all. A date in the future? How can I stop something from happening when I don’t know who it is happening to? And why do
I
get the dates?”

“Well, you did solve the last three cases. So you’re batting one hundred percent, Teach. So, hopefully you’ll get more information before April.”

“That could be too late,” I twisted my hair out of the pony tail and combed it with my fingers. “Maybe I’m supposed to do something now.”

Justin put his hand on my shoulder. “You’re stressing, Teach.”

“There’s a family that will get murdered, Justin.”

“People die every day, Teach.”

“I know that,” I told him. “But it’s not just the family I could save. Consider how one death affects so many people. The opposite is true. If you save one life, it could change the destiny of many. I’ve been thinking a lot about it lately.”

“Are you wondering about how one boating trip changed your family’s destiny?” Justin asked.

I nodded. “If we didn’t go on that trip, then maybe both my parents would still be alive.”

“Maybe, but your family probably wouldn’t have moved to California, and think about all the children, including me, you’ve helped over the years. If you’d stayed in Texas, you might not have become a teacher.”

“Everything is so interconnected, isn’t it?” I said.

“Yes.” Justin slapped the arm on his chair. “Sometimes I think about what if I hadn’t gone to that game or dived for that ball. My life would have been different, but would it have been better?”

“Without you, we wouldn’t have located Jessie or found closure and justice for the Danielle’s family.”

“True, but without you we wouldn’t have even looked into those events,” he added.

“We are getting very philosophical, aren’t we?”

Justin laughed.

We heard a knock at the front door.

Shelby ran in from the backyard barked and jumped on the door.

I opened up to a man dressed in white work overalls embroidered with “Johnson’s Fix-It Shop” over his left pocket. Over his shoulder, I could see a white van on the street with the same logo. It was a local business that I used to fix my dishwasher and washing machine last year. But there was just one thing – I didn’t call them.

I locked eyes with the man and reached out to hug him.

“Hey, don’t do that. The Feds might be watching,” my dad whispered, then smiled.

CHAPTER 2

My dad walked in and handed me a clipboard. “If you’ll just sign this, I’ll get to work on your stove.” His temples were a little grayer since I saw him in Texas in August, but his bright blue eyes glistened and the smile on his broad face warmed my heart.

I took the clipboard, as he shut the door. He grabbed me around the waist, picked me up, and swung me around which made Shelby go crazy.

“Hello, Bobby,” Dad whispered into my ear, then reached down pet Shelby on the head and say, “Go lie down, girl.”

I wish he would use my name rather than the nickname he called me when I was very young. Bobby was because I could weave, bob and out maneuver him in a tag game, even at the age of three.

Shelby went to her favorite spot – under the dining room table.

How come she never listens to me that well?
I wondered. It must be a man thing, since she also listens to Tom.

“Dad,” I scolded. “My name is Liza.”

“I know,” he said and rolled his eyes. “I’ll try to remember.”

“Hi, Mr. Wilcox,” Justin said.

Dad glanced at him. “Justin, I’ve given up trying to get Liza to call me William so I’m certainly not going to make you call me Mr. Wilcox.”

“Just call him Dad, like I do,” I told Justin, as my Dad nodded in agreement.

The smile on Justin’s face could have lit up a room. His own father took off when he was three and his brother David’s father lasted only a year. Justin’s mom is a lovely person but she picks losers for boyfriends. My dad started kicking the soccer ball around with Justin when he was only three years old. He came over every Saturday to play soccer with Justin, went to every one of his games and was the closest thing Justin had to a father.

“Thanks,” Justin said.

Dad extended his hand and as Justin shook it, Dad engulfed him in a big bear hug.

Releasing Justin, he said, “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” Justin glanced at me, then continued, “my life is pretty boring unless I am helping Liza. If it wasn’t for that, I’d go crazy.”

Dad grabbed me around the shoulder again. “She is a chip off the old block, isn’t she?”

I let out the breath I had held since I first recognized Dad, ending it in a raspberry sound.

Dad laughed. “Okay, so you’re not an eco-terrorist, but you like to help people, right?”

I nodded.

“Well, I like to help everyone at once by helping the planet.”

“Let’s agree to disagree,” I told him, and changed the subject. “What’s with the outfit? Do you really think someone is out there looking for you?”

He laughed again and said, “They are always out there, Liza. I just don’t know when or where. I drove around the neighborhood a few times, acting like I was lost, and didn’t see any dark sedans. The Feds have no sense of style. I borrowed the uniform and truck from a friend. And I could use something to drink.” Dad winked at Justin. “But when does she ever have anything in her refrigerator except Diet Coke and take-out boxes?”

“When Chief Tom is here,” Justin replied, then his face flushed and he glanced my way.

Dad clapped Justin on the back. “I know she’s dating an ‘honest’ cop, Justin. I don’t like it, but I know.”

“Dad,” I started, putting my hands on my hips. A warning that he was entering the ‘we’re not going to discuss it’ territory.

“We will agree to disagree, right?” 

I nodded and opened the refrigerator. Besides the sodas, there were two take-out Chinese cartons, an old pizza box, and a Tupperware container full of something that was growing mold that Tom made the last time he was here a few weeks ago. Maybe Dad was right about some things.

“I’ve got Diet Coke, Coke and root beer. What would you like?”

“Chief Tom will be here later in the week,” I heard Justin whisper.

“I’ll have one of his Cokes,” Dad said. I ignored the comment.

Dad took the soda to the dining room table and sat down. “I’ve got an hour or so before anyone gets suspicious about you and the fix-it man.”

“That’s it?” I asked. He had just arrived and I didn’t want him to leave so soon.

“I’ll be back tonight. Leave the sliding glass door unlocked. I plan to stay a few days. After all, it’s Thanksgiving.” He pulled a chair over and put his feet up.

“We’re going to have Thanksgiving together?” I asked. I hadn’t spent a holiday with my dad in the last four years, since I thought he was dead. But he wasn’t dead. He was hiding from the FBI and a contract killer who killed my mother and several of their friends. If that sounds confusing, I thought, it is.

“Yep,” he replied. “Jordan’s coming too. She should be here tomorrow morning some time.”

“Jordan?” I croaked out, the acid in my stomach churned and I suddenly felt queasy.

“I know that you and your sister don’t get along well. But she’s family and family should be together during the holidays.”

I blew out a long exasperated breath. I hadn’t spent a holiday with my sister in almost ten years – with good reasons. If she was day, I was night. She had a model’s body and a movie actor’s face. I tended to carry a few extra pounds and, let’s just say, I don’t have her looks. I’m not ugly, but Jordan’s high cheekbones, stylish haircut, and almond-shaped deep brown eyes were a striking combination.

And we didn’t agree on much. She was too hard on people and said that I was too easy. And of course, we picked professions that complemented our attitudes. I taught kindergarten students and she put away bad guys as an assistant district attorney in New York.

“Are you making your famous Thanksgiving spaghetti?” Justin asked.

“Of course, and you and your mom and David, are invited.”

“Is that a good idea?” I asked.

“Why not?” he and Justin said together.

“You’re supposed to be dead, Dad. Remember?” I reminded him.

“Oh yeah.” He grimaced. “That sure gets in the way.”

“That’s okay, Dad,” Justin said, to try out the word. “We’re leaving tomorrow morning to spend the week with Nana and Papa.”

“How are your grandparents?” Dad asked.

“Nana will be eighty-five and Papa ninety-two this year and they still work the five acres they have up north. Of course, Papa’s got several ride-along tractors for everything, but Nana still gets out there on her hands and knees and pulls weeds.”

“Did they have a garden this year?” I asked, sipping what was left of my root beer float mixture.

“Yeah, and it was bigger than it’s been in years. We ate green beans and zucchini every night for weeks. It’s amazing how many ways my mom can use them to make things from bread to a complete dinner.”

“Stranger
s
in the Night” played from Justin’s backpack. It’s the perfect music for his mom.

Justin swung his backpack around, pulled out his new iPhone and said, “Hey Mom, what’s up?”

Silence.

“Okay, I’m on my way.” Justin slid his phone into the backpack and said, “I’ve got to go. Mom wants me to watch David while she goes to the mall. Nana’s birthday is in a couple of weeks and she still hasn’t found a gift for her.”

“What does your Nana need?” I asked.

“Nothing, and that’s the problem. If she needs something, she goes out and buys it. Mom asked her to make a list, but Nana doesn’t listen very well.” Justin maneuvered his wheelchair toward the door.

“Gift cards are nice.” I suggested.

“No, they are not. Do you know how long that plastic card will be here? After we are all dead and gone, they will still clutter up our landfills,” Dad growled out.

I smiled at Justin, who nodded back and left. Growing up with two parents who were ecology minded had its ups and downs. You always got recycled birthday cards and made your Halloween costumes out of whatever was in the attic chest. They were also strict vegans, so for eighteen years, so was I. Now every time I eat a piece of meat, I thoroughly enjoy it and refuse to feel guilty.

“You want me to go to the store and get the stuff for the spaghetti?” I asked, as I sat down at the table after seeing Justin to the door.

“No, I’ll pick it up this afternoon and bring it with me tonight. You never could pick out a decent eggplant.”

My dad’s sauce was more like a vegetable explosion in red, heavily spiced with garlic, rosemary, thyme, and basil, over home-made noodles. It was delicious but there was one little problem.

“Dad, I don’t have anything for you to make fresh pasta.”

He glanced toward my small kitchen. “Got a strainer?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll make spaetzle. It’s German, and I may have to settle a dispute to allow it to mix with my Italian sauce, but I’ve been known to be very diplomatic.”

I reached over and put my hand on his. “I’ve missed you, Dad,”

“Oh, don’t get all mushy on me, Liza. How’s school?”

My dad was the king of “change the subject”. I guess the apple didn’t fall far from the tree, after all.

“It’s great. I’ve got a nice class and the parents are very helpful. Since the classes sizes went up last year, I have more kids but also more parent participation. It’s wonderful. What have you been up to?”

Dad raised his eyebrows at me.

“What?”

“If I tell you, will you share the information with your friend?”

“No,” I said too quickly. I hadn’t thought about how I would keep things from Tom. He always knew when I wasn’t being honest. But if the subject never came up, then I couldn’t lie.

My dad put his other hand on mine. “Let’s leave my latest adventures out of this.”

“No,” I said. “I want to know what you’re doing. Tom knows you’re alive and if he asks, I’ll tell him the truth.”

Dad shrugged and then told me about the places he had been in the last several months. I only half listened. What would I do about Tom? I loved him, but couldn’t share a big part of my life with him. Dad was wrong. It wouldn’t be an issue. Tom wouldn’t want me to share the information. He barely let me speak my dad’s name without immediately interrupting.

I suddenly felt Dad’s finger under my chin and jumped.

“You’re not listening to me, Liza.”

“Yes, I am,” I lied.

“I just told you we blew up seven buildings and killed a hundred people.”

“What?” I shrieked, jumping back in my chair.

“No, I was kidding but you didn’t notice. What’s the matter, Bobby?”

“Nothing,” I lied again.

Dad frowned, then stood. “I think the repairman has been here long enough. I don’t want the neighbors to talk about the teacher and her fix-it man. I’ll be back tonight.”

He pulled me up from the table, wrapped me in his arms and I breathed in the scent of him – a mixture of the vanilla soap and peppermint toothpaste, both home-made and biodegradable. God, I missed him.

“Don’t worry so much, Liza. Things have a way of working themselves out,” he whispered.

“I love you, Dad,” I told him.

“I love you, too.”

When he tried to release me, I didn’t let go. A waft of memories flooded my head and heart. The years of thinking he was dead, that I would never hold him again, and of being an orphan – feeling lonely and abandoned.

He smoothed down my hair and kissed the top of my head. “You’ve got to let go, Liza. I’ll be back. I promise.”

Finally I stepped back. “You better be. I will not spend a holiday with Jordan without a referee.”

Dad laughed, snatched up his clipboard, winked and left.

I tossed his Coke
can
in the trash
bin
under my sink and snickered. I don’t recycle. But the company who picks up my garbage pays people to separate the recyclables from the refuse so I wouldn’t want to put anyone out of a job, would I?

If Jordan would be arriving tomorrow, there were a few things I needed to do. First off, she only drinks Dr. Pepper or Fiji bottled water – I didn’t have either in my house. And her sheets needed to be washed in a perfume and dye free detergent and dried without a fabric softener sheet – she has allergies. In the morning, she drinks coffee – I prefer tea. Luckily, Tom is a coffee drinker and he left a Keurig coffee pot here. He used the last of the coffee for it when he was here last, saying he would bring more next time. Now I needed some for Jordan.

And who could forget Fifi? She’s a tiny tan hairless Chihuahua that my sister dresses in clothes and takes with her everywhere. A few years ago, Jordan stopped on her way to a conference in Oregon. Shelby thought Fifi was a rat with pink fur and chased her all over the house, out the dog door and under my back porch. It took us several hours to coax Fifi out, and Shelby was locked outside until Jordan and her pet left. This time I would not do that. Fifi would have to figure out a way to get along with Shelby or she would be going out!

So off to the store I went, gathered all the things needed for my sister’s visit, then home to wash sheets and put them back on the bed, re-vacuumed my house, hoping to pickup any loose dander and dog hair, scrubbed my kitchen and bathrooms with anti-bacterial Lysol and stocked the refrigerator with Dr. Pepper and water from Fiji.