Roz Fox - A Cowboy at Heart

“Don’t lie. I have an autopsy report that shows alcohol, marijuana and embalming fluid in my sister’s blood, for God’s sake. Oh, what’s the use of talking to you? The police were adamant that even if I found you, you wouldn’t rat out a dealer.” Linc’s dark eyes glittered as his anger centered on Jenny. “I won’t tolerate drugs here. Maybe you’d better move on.” His voice shook with anger.

Eric stepped protectively in front of Jenny. “You’ve got no right to yell at us, man. Me and Jenny tried to help Felicity.”

Jenny’s white face bobbed out in the open as she grabbed Eric’s arm. “It was wet, Eric. That’s what made Felicity act so crazy.”

Linc’s scowl returned to the girl. “What are you yammering about? The night you took Felicity to emergency, the city hadn’t seen rain in months.”

“Not rain, stupid,” Eric spat. “Wet’s a street name for weed—marijuana—laced with PCP, soaked in embalming fluid and dried. Felicity knew—we all know that’s evil shi—er, stuff,” he finished lamely, watering down his language when Miranda jabbed him in the ribs and rolled her eyes at the children still huddled in a corner. Wanting to defuse the situation, she hauled Jenny toward the kitchen.

“Today has turned out to be a shocker for everyone, Mr. Parker,” she said. “My dad used to say trouble’s better met and dealt with on a full stomach. Why don’t Jenny and I see what we can find to make for supper? Y’all can talk afterward.”

Linc leveled a frown at the girl with the too-dark hair, pale skin and smoke-gray eyes. “If you have a dad worthy of quoting, why are you hanging out with this riffraff?”

Miranda’s chin shot up. “My dad died. And we’re not riffraff. If that’s your attitude, and if you want kids with pedigrees, why advertise this place as a haven for homeless teens?”

Her barb struck Linc in an unprotected spot and triggered a load of guilt. Why had Felicity, who had access to a nice home and best of everything money could buy, chosen friends among druggies and derelicts? He obviously wouldn’t find out by attacking the very kids he hoped one day to wrest answers from.

Still gruff, he waved the two girls away. Wheeling abruptly in the direction of his youngest guests, Wolfgang in particular, Linc rattled off their names by way of introduction. “Wolfie, you go help Randi and Jenny. You know better than I do where cooking supplies are kept. Eric and company can help me inventory the rest of the house. Between now and suppertime, we’ll sort out equitable sleeping spots for the night.”

Wolfie, mulled over Linc’s words. “What’s equit…that word you said. What’s it mean?”

“It means fair. Elbow room for everyone, like we discussed earlier. I don’t want anyone encroaching on his or her neighbor’s sleeping space.”

“I guess that’s okay,” the boy muttered. “You sure use big words, mister. Me, Cassie and Hana ain’t no walking dictionaries, you know?”

The kid sounded so serious, Linc laughed. “Okay, I’ll watch the four-bit words.”

Even the older teens broke out in approving grins. For the moment, the strain that had permeated the room evaporated.

Greatly relieved, Miranda picked up Scraps and nudged Jenny into the kitchen.

“Remember to wash your hands before you touch any food,” Parker yelled after them. He didn’t really expect an answer and wasn’t surprised when none came. But he realized that John Montoya had been more right than wrong. He might be in over his head here.

JUST BEFORE RANDI found the light switch and spilled light into the dark kitchen, Jenny grabbed her. “I’m no cook, are you? What if Lincoln Parker hates what we fix?”

Miranda didn’t answer. “Eew…ew!” Pinching her nose closed, she surveyed a mountain of dirty pots, pans and dishes stacked haphazardly on every surface of an equally dirty stove, sink and counter. “Not only were those houseparents despicable,” she said in a nasal voice, “they were pigs.”

“Yeah, this is disgusting.” Jenny covered her nose and mouth with one hand.

“Jenny, go find Mr. Parker. Tell him we can’t do anything about starting supper until we’ve made a dent in cleaning up this mess. Warn him that some of these pans look so corroded they’ll have to be trashed. Beginning with this one.” She gingerly picked up a saucepan with moldy macaroni and cheese burned to the bottom and sides.

Jenny wasted no time hightailing it out of the smelly room.

Not caring how chilly it had grown outside, Miranda flung open what windows she could budge. She sucked in great gasps of fresh air and wondered how anyone could live this way.

She returned to the sink and began emptying it of unwashed dishes when she heard heavy footsteps coming closer, followed by a partially muffled, “Good Lord!”

Miranda couldn’t help laughing. “My sentiments exactly.”

“This kitchen’s a pigsty. No wonder your dog’s out by the door hiding his head. I thought the bedrooms were bad. They’re the Ritz compared to this.” Linc made a slow circuit of the room. “The boys are bagging rubble from the four bedrooms. God only knows what condition the sleeping bags are in. I unearthed them from a back closet.” Linc felt his burgeoning headache begin to pound in earnest.

“At least we have hot water,” Miranda said brightly. Steam rose from the sink she’d plugged, but her attempt to find dish soap in the cabinet below met with no luck. After searching several more places, she puffed out a breath. “I can’t find any soap. I guess they ran out. Maybe that’s why they stopped washing dishes.”

“A kitchen in a home for kids and no dishwasher? That’s idiotic. Shoot, heck and damn. The minute I set eyes on this unholy mess, I figured it’d be midnight or later before we could reach a point where cooking was possible. But without soap and disinfectant, I doubt it’ll happen at all.”

“So, we’ll, uh, tighten our belts again tonight.” Miranda knew her friends had hoped to have a decent meal. But it wouldn’t be the first night they’d gone to bed hungry. “At least we’ll be sleeping out of the cold. That’s something.”

Known in the world of finance for making quick decisions, Linc made one now. “Look, Randi—that is your name, right?” At her nod, he continued. “I don’t see that we have a choice but to load everyone in my Excursion and go in search of a restaurant. And if there’s a motel with vacancies anywhere in town, two rooms should do us, I think. Tomorrow, before we head back, I’ll buy supplies. I’d appreciate it if you’d make a list of what’s needed for this kitchen to be operational.”

“A shovel?” Her smile brought out a dimple in one cheek.

Once again Linc felt a tug that was almost physical. Frowning, he said, “Put a case of jumbo trash bags and a new set of cookware on the list.” He took a giant backward step toward the door. “While you work on that, I’ll round up the others. I’ll see if the little squirts have nightclothes and clean clothes for morning. If I ever saw kids in need of a good scrubbing, it’s them.”

As he turned to go out, Linc almost fell over the gum-chewing girl who’d purportedly been friends with his sister. Given the circumstances, it was all he could do to mutter a civil, “Excuse me.”

Jenny, who’d overheard part of his and Randi’s discussion, blocked Linc’s exit. “You really intend for us to eat at a restaurant and then go to a motel?”

“I see no other choice. Help put those pans in to soak, please. By tomorrow, steel wool might get some of them clean. Right after heat for the bunkhouses, I’m adding an industrial-size dishwasher to my list.”

Linc made a second attempt to leave the kitchen, but something in the way Randi studied him through narrowed eyes gave him pause. “If you’ve got a problem with my solution, spit it out. From what I saw of the towns I went through on the way here, they’re liable to be the type that roll up their sidewalks at nine o’clock.” To keep from reaching out and giving her arm a reassuring squeeze, he glanced at his watch.