All Roads Lead to Texas. Linda Warren

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      “Virg, aren’t you supposed to answer that call we just got from the Tuttles’ neighbor?” The only way to sidetrack Virgil was with police work.

      “Ah, Sheriff, I hate going over there. Cora Lou shoots at Norris every time he comes home from one of his long-haul trips, accusing him of having an affair. I’m getting tired of having to break them up. I don’t know how she misses him. His chest is as broad as a side of a barn.” Virgil headed for the door, still grumbling. “I just might arrest Cora Lou and maybe she’d stop all this foolishness.”

      “Then do it,” Wade said as the door closed.

      “What’s the scoop on the new lady, Sheriff?” Millie didn’t skip a beat. “Virgil said she’s touchy. Why do you think that is?”

      Wade suppressed a groan. As always, Millie was searching for a story where there wasn’t one. “There’s no story, Millie. She’s a single mom with three kids and wants to raise them in a small-town atmosphere.”

      “Single, hmm?” Millicent scribbled something on a pad. “That’s going to get the young bucks in this town stirred up. Like when Kristin and Kayla came to town. They found husbands. You think Mrs. Austin’s looking for a husband?”

      “I got work to do.” He walked into his office and closed the door.

      A lot of things didn’t add up with Callie Austin, her nervousness, her desire to be alone and her kids calling her by her name. That was odd. It had thrown him for a minute. He’d taken the high road, though, and hadn’t asked. He’d learned that discretion worked best in his job. The details usually came out later, especially the ones people tried to keep hidden.

      Sinking into his chair, he couldn’t stop thinking about Callie. Millie thought she was looking for a husband. He didn’t think so, but she was looking for something. What? He had no idea. Maybe it was peace and quiet and time to get over her husband’s death.

      Whatever it was, the town had to leave her alone.

      And that included him.

      CALLIE ARRANGED the sleeping bags in one of the bedrooms. She had to put hers in between Brit and Mary Beth because both wanted to sleep by her. Adam arranged his at their feet. They found a table for Fred and fed him. Then Callie opened the ice chest with their food stash. Since she didn’t know the layout of the town, she thought it best if they just had a sandwich for tonight. Their diet had been atrocious lately, fast food and sandwiches. Until she got the kitchen fixed, she didn’t know how much longer it would be before she could cook them a decent meal.

      They gathered in the parlor around the ice chest, sitting on the floor. “I want peanut butter,” Mary Beth said, Miss Winnie in her lap. “Peanut butter with bananas. You know how I like it, Callie.”

      “I sure do, sweetie.”

      “I want mine with grape jelly,” Brit added.

      Adam made a face. “’Cause it’s purple.”

      Brit stuck out her tongue again.

      “You’re stupid,” Adam told her.

      “You’re stupider.”

      Callie stopped in the process of opening the jar. The kids were acting so out of character and Callie suspected it had something to do with Nigel’s abuse. They’d gotten along well until he’d come into their lives; now they were bickering and being rude. It had to stop.

      “We have to talk. Adam, you will not call your sister stupid again. And Brit, you will stop sticking out your tongue.”

      “What if I forget?” Brit asked.

      “Then you say I’m sorry.”

      “To him.” She jabbed a thumb toward Adam. “No wa…” Her voice fluttered away when she saw the look on Callie’s face. “Okay, but I think you need to punish him—make him sleep in the attic or something.”

      “No, Callie,” Mary Beth cried. “Don’t make Adam sleep in the attic.”

      The thought of any of them being punished again upset Mary Beth. “No one is sleeping in the attic.” Callie rubbed Mary Beth’s arm to comfort her. “Let’s eat dinner, then we’ll take a bath and go to bed. We’re all tired.”

      They ate their sandwiches in silence and Callie cut apples and oranges into slices. After eating, Callie gathered the remains and put them in a plastic bag. She noticed Mary Beth’s eyelids drooping. It was time for bed.

      Brit and Mary Beth took a bath first in the antique tub with claw feet. It was almost identical to the one upstairs, except it was clean thanks to Ethel Mae. For something so old, it was in very good shape. The toilet had a pull chain and it worked. Being in the house was like taking a step back in time.

      She helped the girls into their pajamas while Adam took his bath. Snug in their bags, Callie hurriedly took a bath and slipped into pajama bottoms and a T-shirt. She left the bathroom light on so the house wouldn’t be in total darkness.

      Soon they were all comfy. Or so Callie thought. “Callie,” Mary Beth whispered.

      “What, sweetie?”

      “What if I wet the bed?”

      “Then I’ll clean it up and we’ll go back to sleep.”

      “But my sleeping bag’ll be wet.”

      “Mary Beth, sweetie. Don’t worry about it. I’ll wash the bag tomorrow and you can slide in with me.”

      “’Kay.” Mary Beth turned onto her side, Miss Winnie in her arms. “Night, Fred. Don’t be afraid. Callie’s here.”

      They went through this every night. Mary Beth just needed reassurance. Before Glynis’s death, she’d never wet the bed or been afraid. Once their lives settled down, the bed-wetting would stop. Since they’d been on the run, Mary Beth had only wet the bed once—their first night in a motel. Callie was hoping that soon she wouldn’t be wetting the bed at all and she wouldn’t be so afraid.

      Callie gazed into the semidarkness, listening to the occasional sound of a car and the creaks and noises of the old house. They were here. They were safe—for now. Just the thought of that relaxed her.

      “I can’t sleep,” Brit complained.

      “Me, neither,” Mary Beth chimed in. “Tell us a story.”

      “Not the princess one again or I’ll puke.” Adam made his wishes known.

      “There’s a prince for every princess, right, Callie?”

      “Right,” she answered Brit’s question, but she wasn’t sure. She’d met a couple of horned toads in her day. And kissing didn’t help.

      “Daddy was Mommy’s prince,” Mary Beth said.

      “Yes, he was,” Callie agreed. There wasn’t a better man than John Lambert.

      “And Nigel’s a frog.” Brit giggled. “You know what? If he comes СКАЧАТЬ