Janet Tronstad - Second Chance in Dry Creek

“I know it’s late,” Calen muttered apologetically, still watching her. “You must be tired.”

“Don’t worry about it. I wasn’t sleeping anyway.”

“Something worrying you?”

“Just my sons. They—” Gracie caught herself in time. Calen didn’t need to know her sons were pressuring her to get married again. No one needed to know that particular fact. “They can be a little stubborn at times when they get an idea into their heads.”

Calen chuckled then, his voice suddenly warm and relaxed. “What is it this time? I remember Tyler laid out his plans once for how he was going to raise a llama on your place with no one knowing. He figured he’d build a shelter for it down in the coulee where we were fishing, and feed it with oats he’d sneak away from the barn.”

“I didn’t know.” Gracie felt exposed. How could this man know more about her youngest son than she did?

“I think it was supposed to be a Christmas surprise. Nothing ever came of it, though.”

“Ahh,” Gracie murmured. Her sons always had wanted a spectacular Christmas. Maybe that’s why Buck had been so set against the day. Her late husband had been jealous of anything that took attention away from him. All he ever allowed in the way of a holiday celebration was to have their closest neighbors, the Mitchells, over for dinner. And, since Gracie had found out he’d been having an affair with Tilly Mitchell, she didn’t suppose she could count his neighborliness as being selfless, even in that regard. Gracie had always used her best china, too, for those dinners. She shook her head at how naive she had been.

After a moment of silence, Calen turned to face the front again.

Before long, the sheriff drove the car onto the freeway. He cleared this throat almost at the same time and looked into the rearview mirror. “Did Tessie talk to you while you were in the house changing your clothes?”

“No,” Gracie conceded. She wasn’t sure, but she thought even a two-year-old should have a few dozen words in her vocabulary. Maybe Tessie couldn’t talk normally. The toddlers at church were always chattering away.

“Well, she’s been through a tough night,” the lawman said.

No one had anything to add to that.

After a few more miles, Gracie noticed the extra straps on the back of the front seats. She had expected the mesh division that separated the rear seat from the driver, but she hadn’t realized they’d also added new straps to these sheriff cars.

The county had gotten a new car for Sheriff Wall in the time since he had arrested her ten years ago. The vehicle still had the same smell to it, though. It wasn’t unpleasant exactly, but it did make her realize that fear had an odor all its own.

Tessie wasn’t the only one who had been through a lot tonight. Gracie figured the toddler’s mother was only at the beginning of her ordeal. Gracie knew what it felt like to be arrested, and she figured Renee would find out before long. Everything changed once a person was on the wrong side of the law. A prison was designed to make a person feel trapped and helpless. Even though Gracie had been innocent, that did not mean the same problems that the other inmates faced didn’t weigh on her mind.

“Renee’s going to be worried about her daughter,” Gracie said. “They probably won’t let us see her yet, but one of the nurses can give Renee a message.”

She wondered if that same receptionist would be on duty. If so, maybe the Stone family’s notoriety could be used for something positive. If the woman took a message, Gracie might even answer one or two of her personal questions.

Gracie didn’t know what would happen to Tessie if her mother went to prison, but armed robbery would carry a long sentence. She would not put that into words, but everyone in this car was probably thinking the same thing.

Gracie looked up at Calen. His shoulders were slumped a little as he sat in the front seat, his head bowed slightly. She wondered if he was praying. She hoped so. At least Renee and Tessie had him to take care of them.

And, we all have You, Father, she prayed. She hadn’t had the assurance of God’s love when she had gone to prison. And it would have made a huge difference.

She sat back then, trying to picture Calen as a father. Or even a husband, for that matter. She finally gave up and smiled. The stories Buck used to tell of him and Calen in high school did not match up with the man she’d seen tonight.

“Do you still have that trophy Buck gave you?” Gracie asked after a few minutes.

Calen grunted and turned around again. “That thing will be at the bottom of my closet until the day I die. Unless I sell it for junk metal first. Only Buck would give me a brass trophy that said Number One Romeo of Custer Country.”

The man’s voice sounded better, at least. Gracie was glad they did have some good memories they could share.

“He found that trophy in some pawnshop,” Calen continued. “But he had the words re-done. I think he gave up one of his good knives in trade for it. Just to give me a hard time—calling me Romeo.”

“Well, you always were popular with the girls,” Gracie teased him softly.

“Not with the one that mattered,” he shot back too quickly to have thought about it.

She didn’t know what to say to that. She ran through the names of the girls in their class, trying to figure out which one he’d been sweet on. She was surprised Buck hadn’t told her. Even though everyone knew Buck was her boyfriend, he didn’t like her being around other people and she missed out on most of the gossip. For all of Calen’s flirting, she couldn’t remember ever hearing that he had been serious about anyone.

By the time she had decided to ask him who he meant, he’d already turned around and the moment was gone. Then a semitruck passed and made too much noise for talking. She watched the red taillights for a while. There was seldom much traffic on the freeway going through this part of the state, and it was particularly deserted in the middle of the night.

Gracie settled back against the seat. She hadn’t thought about those old high school days for years. The only time she had seen Calen during her marriage was that one night when he’d brought Buck home after her husband had passed out from drinking too much in some bar. She’d been so embarrassed; she’d told Calen more than she should have about her life with Buck. She couldn’t bring herself to admit that her husband hit her regularly, but she knew the ranch foreman had sensed her unhappiness. She’d felt close to him that night. That’s when he’d given her the number for his private phone at the Elkton bunkhouse.

Funny how she’d thought of that phone number so often back then that she’d memorized it. She’d almost dialed it a time or two when Buck had gotten particularly out of hand, but she never did. She was saving it as a last resort.

It wasn’t long before Gracie saw the outlines of buildings that, even in the dark, marked the outskirts of Miles City. The hospital was at the main exit. She could tell from the green numbers on the dash of the car that it was a little after two o’clock in the morning. She hated to wake up Tessie, but they needed to be inside asking about the child’s mother as soon as possible.

“They have coffee in the vending machines inside,” Calen said as the sheriff pulled into the parking lot. Light streamed out of the windows of the hospital. “And I have lots of dollar bills.”

Gracie nodded. The rest of the night promised to be long.

* * *

The sheriff stepped out of the car the minute it stopped and headed toward the hospital.

Soon after that, Calen closed his door, wondering if he should offer to carry Tessie. He didn’t want to startle his granddaughter.