The Payback Man. Carolyn McSparren

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СКАЧАТЬ the one hand, they seem like people you’d meet anywhere, might even like, and then some tiny thing sets them off and, bang, it’s World War III.” She shuddered. “Slow Rise, this country boy over sixty, nearly came to blows with Robert Dalrymple, a lanky black kid, when the kid said he was crazy. I don’t think Robert meant anything by it—just a casual remark.”

      “I know Slow Rise,” Precious said, watching the wine swirl in her glass. “He’s usually very gentle, but he’s inside for killing his wife’s lover in a fit of rage.”

      “My God! Now I’m terrified.”

      “Don’t be. Most of the time he’s the soul of kindness. He’s got another ten years to serve before he can even think of applying for parole.”

      “He probably won’t live that long.”

      “No, he’ll likely die in prison.”

      “Lord, how sad.”

      “Don’t let the sad stories get to you, Eleanor. Remember he did kill a man.”

      Eleanor leaned her head back against the chair. “You’re right. I had no idea I was this tired. Do you mind if we skip the unpacking tonight? I’m grateful for your help, but I really think I just want to go to bed. Tomorrow I’ve got the men in the morning, and then I’m working a full shift at the clinic in the afternoon and evening.”

      Precious finished her wine and stood. “Girl, you are going to burn out at that rate.”

      Eleanor didn’t bother to get up. She was sure her legs would be too weak to hold her.

      “Want me to fix you some soup or a sandwich?”

      “No thanks, Precious. I’m sorry to be such a poop.”

      “Forgedaboudit, as they say in the gangster movies. We’ll do it this weekend.”

      “You have things to do.”

      Precious laughed. “Right. A couple of rich radiologists are just breaking down my door trying to take me away from all this. Girl, I so have nothing to do this Saturday except unpack your stuff. Now, go get some sleep.”

      She moved to the door. “I’ll let myself out.”

      Eleanor listened for the closing door without opening her eyes.

      Not since the long nights and days nursing Jerry had she felt this completely depleted nor this close to despair. She roused herself long enough to call Raoul Torres. When he answered, she said, “Raoul, were you serious when you offered to give me some help understanding this place if I needed it?”

      “Absolutely. You feeling overwhelmed on your first day? Want me to come over? I can be there in five minutes.”

      “Thanks, but it’s not that urgent.” In the background, Eleanor heard the sound of at least two children, one of whom was screaming something in Spanish.

      “Pipe down!” Raoul shouted. “Lupe, tell my children I will chain them to the whipping post and flog them as soon as I’m off the telephone.”

      A woman’s voice said something indistinguishable, and the screaming children began to laugh.

      “Okay, if not tonight, when would you like to get together? Tomorrow sometime?”

      “What?” Eleanor had lost track of the conversation momentarily. “Oh, how about I buy you lunch tomorrow? Someplace close to the farm. I shouldn’t be as dirty as I was today.”

      “You got it. I’ll pick you up at the barn about eleven-thirty.”

      “Thanks, Raoul. I really need to talk about the men. If I’m going to work with them, I need to understand them.”

      “Don’t worry about everything so much. It will work out.”

      “I hope God’s listening to you on that one.”

      She crawled into bed certain that she’d fall asleep instantly, but found she was too tired and ached in too many places to get comfortable.

      How many nights after Jerry died had she slept rolled in a comforter in his old leather recliner, hoping to capture a fleeting scent of the man he had been before he got sick? How many days did she try to remember his face, his smile, the way his laughter crinkled the corners of his eyes?

      Since his death no other man had stirred her blood. Her friends told her she was still young, still attractive. She didn’t feel either young or attractive. Until today she’d have sworn that the juices had all dried up. Until today when she’d felt Steve Chadwick’s strong arms around her waist.

      Raoul would undoubtedly tell her she was attracted to Steve because he was completely out of her reach and therefore safe. But there was nothing safe about him. It was insane to feel attracted to him. He was a criminal, for God’s sake. A man who had done something dishonorable, and that made him unworthy to be Jerry’s successor.

      That sounded priggish even to Eleanor, but it was true. Jerry had been the kindest, the most generous and honorable of men. He had devoted his relatively short life to saving the lives of animals, even though he could have gone to medical school and possibly made a lot more money.

      Even more important, after Jerry died she’d sworn never to invest herself so completely again in any man or any relationship. No one should have to endure losing a true love even once, much less twice. She didn’t dare love that way again.

      She would devote herself to her goal—saving enough money to buy a decent veterinary partnership. She had enough problems without Steve Chadwick.

      Getting even slightly involved with any of the men she worked with would be a fatal error. Whatever crime Steve Chadwick committed probably had to do either with drugs or with money. He could never be considered a love interest.

      She’d been wrong not to check her team members out. She did need to know what these men had done to land in prison. If it colored her opinion of them, so be it. She’d discovered that not knowing was much worse than knowing.

      “MORNING, EVERYBODY,” Eleanor said with a cheeriness that made her want to throw up. So obviously phony, but then, no matter what she said or did outside of actual work seemed to sound phony. She climbed out of her truck, locked the doors and pocketed the keys, although the only people around were her crew and the new guard.

      “Where’s La—uh—Mr. Newman?”

      The new CO, a fiftyish woman who could probably have held her own in a fight with Big or Gil, grinned at her. “Mr. Newman is off today. I’m Officer Selma Maddox.” She turned to the men standing in a ragged line behind her. “And I do not want to hear one word about my ass or any other part of my anatomy, you got that?” No response. “I said,” Selma repeated patiently, “you got that?”

      Heads nodded.

      “Good, we understand each other. Now, Doc, what say we put these lazy bums to work? What you got for ’em to do?”

      Eleanor motioned for Selma to follow her as she moved out of earshot. She didn’t want to put Selma on the spot, particularly since, unlike Mike Newman, she seemed to СКАЧАТЬ