Joanna Wayne - Riding Shotgun

“We need to take the steps slowly,” Grace said as they reached the back door to the house. “Hold on to the railing with your free hand to help you stay balanced.”

Following Grace’s advice, Esther took the three back steps with a lot less pain than she’d feared. Nothing seemed quite as scary since Grace had appeared. Of course, once they were inside, Grace would be on her way and Esther would be alone again.

Always alone without Charlie. Someday someone would pay for that. Esther wouldn’t rest until justice was done.

But right now she was just grateful for Grace.

Chapter Four

By all rights, Grace should be a nervous wreck at this point. She’d made a major faux pas in the backyard. She hadn’t given anyone her real last name in the six years she’d been on the run. Thankfully, she’d caught herself in time to use the last name that was on her latest fake ID.

It was the unexpected nature of the encounter with Esther. Normally, she planned her life carefully, taking no chances with strangers.

In spite of that, Grace felt at ease. Esther was so sweet and unassuming, her house so cozy, it was impossible not to feel at home with her.

Esther was resting at least semicomfortably now, reclined on the sofa in the loose-fitting cotton robe Grace had helped her change into. Her leg was propped on multiple pillows, her ankle iced and a clean compression wrap from Esther’s first aid kit in place.

“Are you a nurse?” Esther asked.

“No, but I’ve had experience with sprained ankles, usually my own. But if this is not a lot better by morning, you should see a doctor and have it x-rayed.”

“It can’t help but be better the way you’re pampering me.”

“I’m just doing what anyone would do.” Grace tucked an available afghan around Esther’s legs. “Do you have some pain relievers in the house?”

“I have some ibuprofen I use when the arthritis starts acting up.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to take that. Where would I find it?”

“In the kitchen cabinet next to the sink and above the counter.”

“I’ll get it,” Grace offered. “Would you like anything else, perhaps a cup of tea?”

“Nothing yet, but you help yourself to anything you see in there that you want. There’s homemade chocolate chip cookies in the cookie jar and sweet tea in the refrigerator.”

“Thanks, but I had a late lunch.” Chips and a soft drink, if you could call that lunch.

Alone in the kitchen, Grace took a few seconds to absorb her surroundings. The kitchen, like the rest of the house, had a cozy, lived-in feel. A red teakettle sat on the back burner of a freestanding gas range. An electric coffeepot was on the counter next to a chicken-shaped sugar bowl and a basket of unshelled pecans.

A breakfast nook with a view of a pumpkin patch held a round oak table and four captain’s chairs topped with blue-and-white-checked cushions.

A sky blue fruit bowl filled with apples, oranges and bananas rested in the middle of the table. The fruit was too tempting to resist. Since Esther had offered, Grace washed her hands at the kitchen sink and helped herself to a banana.

Everything was much as Grace had imagined it when she’d first seen the house from the logging road except that there were no children, no husband, no food simmering on the range. Yet Grace was almost certain the house had once known laughter and great love.

And now she was fantasizing, relying on her own needs to dictate the unknown.

She took a bite of the banana and checked the refrigerator to see if there was something a lousy cook like herself could prepare for Esther’s supper. Bacon, eggs and sandwich fixings were plentiful, but that was about it.

The freezer told a different tale. One shelf was filled with serving-size packages of food, all neatly labeled. Soups, meatloaf, chicken and dumplings, casseroles.

Another shelf held sealed plastic bags filled with frozen vegetables. Butter beans, several kinds of peas, corn, carrots and okra, to name a few. Definitely no shortage of food choices.

Satisfied Esther wouldn’t starve, Grace quickly went about the business at hand. She finished her banana and retrieved the bottle of pills. She shook out two into her hand and filled a glass with ice water before hurrying back to the large family room.

Esther raised up on her elbows, took the meds and almost finished the glass of water.

“You’ve done enough waiting on me for now,” Esther said. “I’d appreciate if you could stay awhile, but you’d best go get your car before it gets dark.”

“Good idea,” Grace agreed. “And then I’ll come back and warm up something for your dinner.”

“For my supper,” Esther said. “That’s what Charlie always called it. He liked his big meal at lunch and something light at night.”

“Then I’ll fix your supper,” Grace said. “Are you sure you’ll be all right while I’m gone?”

“I’m not getting off this sofa. But you can’t go traipsing across that pasture and climbing through barbwire again,” Esther announced. “You could get hurt.”

“I’ll be careful.” Though she wasn’t looking forward to the possibility of meeting a bull head-on.

“Fiddle-faddle. Hand me the phone. I’ll call Buck. Much as I have to pay that boy to do a few chores, won’t hurt him to do me a favor.”

Which bought up a more important subject. Grace handed her the phone. “Speaking of favors, is there someone you can call to stay with you tonight?”

“Don’t need ’em. I can hobble the few steps to the bathroom when the urge hits and to the kitchen to get fresh ice when I need it. Rest of the time, I may just sleep right here on the sofa.”

“You are a very independent woman, Esther Kavanaugh.”

“When you’re alone, you have to be.”

Grace knew that all too well. Still, she didn’t feel good about leaving Esther alone tonight.

Esther made the call to Buck and then turned back to Grace. “His mom says he’s in the shower, but she’ll send him over as soon as he’s dressed.”

“Perhaps either Buck or his mother could stay with you tonight,” Grace suggested.

“Buck’s fine with the livestock. I don’t want him trying to help me, though. He’s all legs and awkward as all get-out.”

“What about his mother?”

“Libby would just keep me awake blabbering all night. She’s the biggest gossip in Winding Creek, and that’s saying a lot.”

“Perhaps there’s someone else, then.”

“No one I’d like putting up with. You said you were just traveling through. Where are you heading?”

Time for the lies to commence. Fortunately, Grace had worked out most of the details of her new identity while driving. Of course, she’d already blown the fake name.

Being prepared didn’t make the lying any easier, especially to someone as open and trusting as Esther.

“I lost my job in Houston,” Grace said, “so I’m going to visit a friend in Albuquerque. She thinks she can get me a job there.”

“You’re kind of off track for Albuquerque, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but since I’m in no hurry, I thought I’d see more of Texas, take back roads, stop at towns I’d never been to.”

“Like Winding Creek?”

“Winding Creek wasn’t on my original itinerary,” Grace admitted, “but I like this part of Texas.”

“Most folks do love the Hill Country. So what’s your hurry? Stick around a day or two. Drive into Winding Creek. It’s a genuine Western town. Still has places on Main Street to hitch your horse—not that I recommend taking a horse into town.”

“Perhaps I’ll come back one day and check it out.”

“No time like the present. I’ve got plenty of room in this rambling old house and I’d love the company.”