Lori Armstrong - Merciless

I really needed thirty minutes to myself, either pounding the gravel as I ran, or working out the day’s stress on my yoga mat. But mind-clearing exercise wasn’t a possibility, so I donned party duds-my rhinestone encrusted Miss Me jeans, a long-sleeved Rockies blouse the color of lilacs, a Nocona belt dotted with silver conches, and my Justin clogs.

Dawson and I passed each other in the hallway. He gave me a quick kiss and vanished into our room to stash his gun.

Some women might have an issue with other women taking over their kitchen. Not me. Mostly because the kitchen had always been Sophie’s domain. So no one gave me a strange look when I asked, “What can I do?”

“Keep an eye on Joy, now that you’re unarmed,” Hope sniffed, shoving the squirmy baby at me.

I checked out her party clothes. The little jeans I’d bought her with butterflies on the butt, and a pink sweater with a carousel horse and GIDDY-UP! emblazoned on the front. I kissed her chubby cheek and whispered, “Lookin’ good, Poopy.” Then I just happened to glance over at Sophie’s daughter, Penny.

Holy crap. She was not looking good. Not at all. Thin to the point of emaciated, she wore a burgundy bandana to hide her bald head. Her brown eyes held that expression of chronic pain, an expression I’d heard my father wore during the last month of his life.

She caught me staring at her. “Thanks for invitin’ me to the party, hey. I doan seem to get out much these days, ’cept for goin’ to the doctor and stuff.”

I sat across from her. “I’m happy you’re here. Now I’ve got a witness to back up how much your mom picks on me.”

The air behind me moved as Sophie flapped her dish towel at my head. “ Shee . I ain’t started to pick on you yet. Lucky thing you’re holdin’ that sweet baby, or I’d start right now.”

Penny smiled at Joy.

Joy fisted her tiny hands in the tablecloth and yanked with a happy shriek. “Hey, troublemaker, you’re not quite up to Criss Angel’s level with the old pull-the-tablecloth-off-the-table trick yet.” I stood before she did any real damage.

“I love babies. I would’ve liked to’ve had grandkids.”

John-John, being gay, wouldn’t ever have kidlets. And his sister, Penny’s daughter Christina, had died in a car accident before Sophie came to work for us. My fleeting thought that such tragedy just seemed to befall some families was squashed when I realized most folks in Eagle River County thought the same thing about the Gundersons.

Devlin Pretty Horses, Sophie’s freeloading son, swooped in and grabbed a handful of veggies. “Grandkids ain’t all they’re cracked up to be, trust me.”

I’d never liked Devlin. A guy pushing sixty, who’d always lived with his mother? Pathetic. It’d be one thing if Devlin ever did a damn thing except sit on his ass and watch TV. Sophie made excuses for his lazy ways-excuses I’d stopped listening to when I was in high school. I slapped on a polite smile. “Devlin, I didn’t know you were here.”

“Been keeping an eye on the score. I got money ridin’ on this game.”

Another reason I disliked him. I wondered how much of Sophie’s salary fed his gambling addiction.

“Got any beer?” Devlin asked.

“Devlin, you promised no drinking tonight,” Sophie half pleaded. “You’re driving us home.”

“Relax, old woman. One beer won’t put me over the limit.”

“There’s beer in the cooler on the front porch,” Hope said helpfully.

Sophie scowled at Hope.

Devlin stood there for a second, as if he expected his mother to fetch it for him. Muttering, he headed out the door.

“So are John-John and Muskrat coming tonight?” I asked Penny.

“Just my son. Muskrat has to keep an eye on the bar.” She pushed a line of carrot sticks closer to the sliced radishes. “I could use a stiff drink.”

Sophie turned and frowned at her daughter. “It’ll just make you sick.”

“And since I feel sick ninety-nine point nine percent of the time, I can’t see why I shouldn’t have one. ’Cause it ain’t like it’s gonna kill me.”

The woman had cancer. Why would anyone begrudge her a drink? “I’ll make you one.”

Penny gave me a grateful look.

I could knock back a shot or two of Wild Turkey, but since I’d been saddled with Joy, booze was off limits for me. I wondered if that’d been my sister’s intention.

The door opened and disgorged a group of people. John-John. Geneva; her husband, Brent; and their large brood. Kiki, in uniform, although my eagle eye noticed she’d also ditched her gun. Bernice from the sheriff’s office. Our hired hands, TJ and Luke Red Leaf, and their wives, Lucy and Ruby. I wouldn’t have thought it strange that they clustered together, instead of gathering around Penny, Sophie, and John-John, if I hadn’t recently noticed the tension between the Red Leaf and Pretty Horses relatives. Our neighbors, Tim and Kathy Lohstroh. Our other neighbors, Mike and Jackie Quinn.

Ten thousand kids ran in and out.

Dogs barked.

Hope plucked Joy from my hands as Rollie and Verline strolled in, sans kids.

Sophie harrumphed and gave them her back. John-John whispered something to his mother. And she shook her head vehemently.

Appeared I was the only person who intended to welcome them. “Hey guys, glad you could come. Can I getcha something to drink?”

“Anything with booze for me,” Rollie said.

Verline stuck close to Rollie, which didn’t seem to make him happy.

I poured the whiskey and water, one each for Rollie, Penny, Dawson, and Geneva, and a double for myself. After I handed them out, I heard Dawson yelling for me. I drained the shot and cut through the crowd that’d spilled into the living room. The last time we’d had this many people in the house had been after Levi’s funeral.

Dawson stood in front of the TV with his hands on Lex’s shoulders. He motioned me to stand by his side. “I’d like to thank Hope and Miz Red Leaf for surprising us with the idea for a party welcoming my son, Lex, to South Dakota.”

I caught Geneva’s eye and she mouthed “Sucker” to me. Mature, not to stick my tongue out at her or flip her off.

“As of this morning, Lex is enrolled in Eagle Ridge Middle School in sixth grade for the entire school year.”

Clapping.

“Son, anything else you want to add?”

Lex’s face turned a darker shade of red, and he shook his head.

“Ain’t gonna be able to get away with nothin’ with your dad as the sheriff, boy,” Devlin shouted out.

Laughter.

“That didn’t seem to keep Mercy outta trouble, though, when Wyatt was sheriff,” Tim Lohstroh said dryly.

More laughter.

“Thanks, everyone, for coming. I believe it’s time to eat, so help yourselves. The food, as always, will be excellent, again thanks to Miz Red Leaf and Hope.”

Kiki offered her hand to Lex. “I’m glad you’re here, and I imagine we’ll be seeing you at the sheriff’s office.”

Lex nodded. His shyness with adults surprised me.

Geneva approached next. “Lex, I’m Doug’s mom. I hope we’ll see you at our place soon.” She winked. “Always plenty of chores to do.”

“My dad said I’d have chores to do around here.”

When Geneva said, “It builds character,” I rolled my eyes. We’d made fun of our folks endlessly for saying those exact same words to us at that age.

I stood close enough to Dawson that I heard his stomach rumble. I looked up at him and touched his arm. “Skipped lunch again today, Sheriff?”

“Got a little busy.”

“You’re starving. You guys get in line.”

“You comin’?”

“In a minute.”

Geneva smirked at me after they headed for the kitchen. “Aw, lookit you, worrying for your man’s appetite and well-being.”