Unbreakable (6 page)

That, more than anything, was getting Casper’s goat. What the hell impression had he given the boy in Albuquerque?

And how was he going to reverse it without making things worse? “What I mean is that you’re going to have to get started cleaning up without me here.”

“Here to help?” Clay asked, tossing his head to get his lank and overlong hair out of his eyes. “Or to look over my shoulder?”

“Both, but since I won’t be here, then neither. I’m going to stop and put in orders to have the water and power and gas turned on, but you can start with the obvious trash in the meantime. I bought an industrial-sized box of garbage bags.”

“Garbage detail. Got it.”

“And stay out of sight.”

“Got that one, too.”

“Good, because we could both be in deep shit if you’re discovered before I can figure out what to do with you.”

That had Clay backing up a couple of steps. “I don’t need you to do anything with me. You don’t want me here, say the word and I’m gone.”

Jesus. Casper closed his eyes, rubbed the grit away instead of snatching up the kid and shaking him. “Just stay out of sight. If anyone comes around, find a closet or something.”

“No one has to come in to check the utilities are working?”

“Shouldn’t. Well, maybe the gas, but they can wait till I’m here if that’s the case. Water’ll get turned on at the meter, and the electric box is on the rear of the house. Just keep Kevin off the porch.”

“And you’ll be back when?”

He thought of all the things at the ranch he’d already put off too long. Thought of letting down Boone and Dax, not holding up his third of the partnership. He thought about Faith. Then he thought about growing up and having no one watching his back.

He grabbed one last plastic fork from the floor along with a wedge-shaped container that had held a slice of pie, and headed for the kitchen, calling back, “As soon as I can in the morning. I’ll work out a schedule for the things that need doing.”

“I can pretty much figure out what needs doing,” Clay said, following.

“Yeah, smart-ass, I know. But some things take priority.”

“How much are you going to pay me?”

“Over your room and board?”

“This isn’t much of a room, and Vienna sausages with cheese crackers and Coke doesn’t count as much in the way of board.”

“Vienna sausages with cheese crackers don’t require cooking or digging through restaurant trash. And it’s only for the rest of the day. I’ll get you a microwave and figure out what to do about a fridge once I see if that one,” he said, nodding toward the ancient appliance, “has any life left in it.”

Clay screwed up his mouth. “You saying I can’t use the stove? I do know how to cook.”

“Without setting the house on fire?”

“I used to cook for my mom. Really cook, not just heating up cans of soup and nuking pizza bites.”

Huh. Interesting. “We’ll cross that bridge. Best to keep things simple for now.”

“Whatever.”

Jesus H. A teenager complaining about eating junk for a few days? “I’ll pick up kolaches or breakfast tacos in the morning, okay?”

“Thanks,” Clay said with a nod, his gaze finding Kevin as if he needed a friend. “I like eggs.”

“I’ll pick up a fan, too. There’s a window unit in what’s supposed to be the master bedroom, but I imagine it’s nothing but a big nest for mice these days. Depending on how my finances
shake out”—and what a joke that was—“I’ll eventually look into central air.”

After a long moment spent blinking and staring, Clay asked, “You saying you don’t have any money?”

“No. I’m saying I have to be careful with what I have.” Another joke. He was becoming a regular comedian.

That seemed to satisfy the boy. “What happens once the house is cleaned up? Are you going to move back in?”

Casper hadn’t thought that far ahead. “I don’t know. Another bridge I’ll worry about when the time comes.”

“You had to have been thinking something. Before you found me here. You stopped, and all.”

What he’d been thinking was best not put into words. “I’d just got the letter telling me the place was mine. Thought it best I see what I’d inherited.”

“Your folks die or something?”

“Nah. My old lady just didn’t want it anymore.”

“Guess she hasn’t lived here in a while.”

“She’s been in Vegas for years, but I don’t know when exactly she moved. I’ve been gone since I was eighteen. Just came back this summer.”

“You’re like, what, forty or something?”

Jesus. “I’m thirty-three.”

“That’s a long time not to see your mom.”

“Clay…” Casper hesitated. He was the least equipped person he knew to advise on familial relationships. “My mother wasn’t much of one. Not all mothers are.”

“Mine was,” the boy said, his tone hurt, his posture defensive. “She was the best.”

“I’m sure she was. I didn’t know her well, but I do know she loved you.” He didn’t know anything of the sort. He just figured
it was something the kid deserved to hear. “She talked about you a lot.”

“Didn’t figure y’all were into talking.”

Because they were too busy screwing
. Clay didn’t have to say the words for Casper to hear them. “Spending time with women is a lot more fun when you both talk about things that matter, and me and Angie did that. About rodeo and about Albuquerque. And about you.”

“Whatever.”

Jesus H. Teenagers. Casper reached into the past, grasping for something. “She talked about you and your books. She was damn proud of that, you reading instead of spending all your time in front of a computer or Playstation.”

Clay shrugged. “I like stories. The best games have stories. But I left my laptop at home so I’ve been grabbing books where I can.”

Something about that had Casper’s antennae twitching. “Whaddaya mean, grabbing books?”

“Used stores toss out old ones. New stores throw away ones that don’t have any covers. It’s trash. It’s not like I’m stealing.”

Eh, they might have to disagree on that. “What else have you been digging out of the trash?”

“Food for Kevin sometimes. And other stuff.”

“Food for you?”

“You figure out the best places to look, the best times.” He flipped his hair out of his face again. “I mean, I’m not going to eat spoiled meat or rotten eggs, but someone tosses out half a Big Mac? Yeah. I’ll bite. Better than Vienna sausages and cheese crackers.”

Jesus H. Christ. “Your mom talk to you about looking a gift horse in the mouth?”

Clay dropped his gaze to his too-big feet, shuffled them. “Thanks for the food.”

That was better. “It’s just for a night.”

Another shuffle, his soles squeaking against the floor. “You say so.”

“I do,” Casper said, realizing such backtalk would’ve earned him a fist to the face from his old man. “I stopped by to take a look at the place. I wasn’t expecting visitors. I’m a little blindsided, but I’m working to catch up.”

“Yeah,” was all Clay said.

Okay. Change of subject. “When did you get here?”

“About a week ago, I guess.”

“And you’ve been here in the house all that time?”

“Except when I’ve gone out for food.”

“Did you ever think about going out for a shower?”

Color stained the boy’s cheekbones. “I washed up along the way. Gas stations. Rest stops. It’s mostly my clothes that smell. I didn’t have the money to wash them.”

“Doesn’t cost but a few bucks, soap included.”

“I didn’t have a few bucks.”

“Did you…Do you have anything?”

“Money, you mean?” He shook his head, his hair falling back into his face. “Not anymore. I had a trucker in Midland give me a fifty. It lasted a while.”

Casper didn’t like the sound of that. “He gave it to you. You didn’t—”

“Suck his dick? No, man. None of that shit went on. I wouldn’t have taken rides if it had.”

“Good,” Casper said, though who was he to judge what a kid had to do to survive? He dug his wallet from his pocket, rifled through the bills stuffed inside, and pulled out twenty bucks. That left him with the nine bucks of change from the lunch he
shouldn’t have splurged on. He crossed his fingers he wouldn’t have a blowout on the way home. “Take this. Not that you’ll need it, but being without’s not a good thing.”

Clay shrugged, his hands in his pockets. “I’ll make do. I always have. Mom taught me how.”

Maybe so, but it still didn’t sit well, and he waited until Clay gave in and took the money. “Guess you were on the road a while.”

“I left when school was out.”

“In June? You’ve been on the road two months?”

He nodded. “Sometimes we’d just hole up a few days. If the weather was bad. Or we’d walk early and late, and hang out inside somewhere to get out of the heat. Sometimes we were just tired and took a break. It wasn’t like we were in a big hurry or anything. I didn’t even know if you still lived here.”

And if the Dalton inheritance hadn’t fallen into his lap, he could easily have still been on the road. The thought had a bale of dread choking him. “You’re lucky. I only moved back a couple of months ago.”

“That would’ve sucked. To get here and you not be here.”

He started to ask the boy what he’d have done if that had been the case, but decided there was no use borrowing trouble when they were both neck deep. “Okay, then. I’m going to see about the water and power and gas, and I’ll be back as soon as I can tomorrow. Stay out of sight. You and Kevin both. A stray dog in ranching country doesn’t raise the same curiosity as one roaming the streets of Crow Hill.”

“I’ll keep him in, but we’ve been careful, sticking to the east side of the porch when he needs to go. Not as much happening at the house on that side.”

Casper thought a minute. Last he’d known, the Banyons lived on the west, the Taylors on the east, and most likely a bit of
morning gardening and coffee with the old-timers at the Blackbird Diner was the only time Sheldon Taylor ventured out.

“You can go,” Clay said, drawing Casper’s attention away from his musings.

“I’m going,” he replied, getting back to counting all the things he had to do before seeing Faith tonight. He dug for his keys, settled his hat square on his head, reached for his sunglasses where they hung by the earpiece from the neck of his T-shirt.

“We’re fine, dude,” came Clay’s voice from behind him when he still hadn’t moved. “We’ve been at this a while.”

And that particularly disturbing fact was what Casper carried with him the rest of the day.

“W
HAT WOULD YOU
think about having the party at the Hellcat Saloon?” Faith asked, wiping down the plastic tablecloth in the ranch house kitchen, then leaning to pick up stray potato peelings from the floor that always seemed in need of a good mopping.

“Mom? In the Hellcat Saloon? Are you kidding me?” Snorting more than laughing, Boone turned back to the stove, flipping the hamburger steaks he was frying up in a cast-iron skillet.

Such a simple supper, and yet Faith’s stomach was rumbling from the smells. Considering her lunch had been nothing but french fries, and she hadn’t stopped work for so much as a snack the rest of the day, being hungry shouldn’t have come as a surprise.

That’s what happened when she thought more about Casper Jayne than her own basic needs. Another reason not to risk an affair.

A stupid reason, but she wasn’t above grasping for any and all straws at this point. He’d be here soon, and she needed her ammunition ready, because her thinking about seeing him after the way they’d left things this morning had her skin itching, her lust crazy hot.

“If the saloon is closed for a private party, why not?” she asked as she tossed the peelings into the trash. “There won’t be any drunks there, except for her friends, and there won’t be any bar-top kitten dances, unless she wants to climb up with Dad and two-step.”

“Who put this idea in your head? Wait. It had to be Arwen.” He pulled open the oven door, used a hot mitt to slide out a baking sheet of potatoes and onions broiling to a crisp, shaking them around before sending them back to cook a bit more. “Y’all had lunch and she sold you on using her place.”

“She didn’t sell me on anything. Not if you mean she’s doing it for the money. She’s not. She offered the food and the drinks at cost.” A detail that appealed to the banker in Faith. “We wouldn’t have to deal with renting a hall and hiring a caterer and hoping we can get the date and time and menu we want. And it would be a whole lot cheaper than the country club.”

Boone grabbed two plates from the cabinet. “I dunno, Faith. The folks’ve got room at the house. I don’t know why we don’t just do it there.”

“One, because it’s kinda hard to throw a surprise party in the place where they live. And two, I don’t want to have to play hostess
and
make sure none of Momma’s Precious Moments figurines get busted by kids running from the one den door, across the patio, and back through the other.” The way she and Boone had done for years, her chasing him to get her diary back, him chasing her for teasing him about dousing himself in Stetson cologne before a date.

“Grab a couple of beers from the fridge, will you?”

First she grabbed a couple of knives and forks from the drawer, then went for the drinks, her eyes lighting up when she did. “Ooh. You’ve got strawberries and whipped cream.”

“And an angel food cake up on top of the fridge.”

“Dessert. Mmm. What prompted that? Y’all are usually much more caveman with your groceries.”

Another laugh, this one with less snorting. “Caveman?”

She found herself grinning, picturing Boone with a club and dressed like Fred Flintstone. “You know. Kill it and gut it and skin it and drag it home to eat.”

“If you think that’s what we do out here, you need to come around more often.”

“Speaking of which, do you mind if I sleep over?”

“No, but why?”

Because Casper’s not home yet, and he’s been on my mind all day, and we have to settle this thing we started this morning before I explode.

“Because I’m tired and it’s late and I don’t want to drive home. And the Cowans next door are having their three-year-old’s birthday party tonight, and I’m just not up for all that toddler noise.” When Boone grunted what she took for acceptance, she went on. “I thought I could use the room Darcy fixed up when she was helping y’all go through the Daltons’ things.”