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  "I don't want to," Andy sobbed. "I want to go home."

  Christa swallowed a lump in her own throat and went in the hall to fetch some toilet paper from the bathroom. Andy would get snot all over her shirt and then try to pick it off when it dried. Sometimes Christa wished her sister were older and could do things for herself. Christa got tired of taking care of the little baby. She liked it when Daddy and Uncle Nolan treated her like a big girl, but sometimes she wished they would spoil her like they did Andy. All Andy had to do was cry and she got attention. No one cared if Christa cried. She was being a big baby if she cried. It wasn't fair.

  While she was carefully removing the last few squares of paper from the bathroom roll she heard Andy give a happy shout. Daddy was back. She folded the tissue in her hand and rushed out of the bathroom. At the end of the hall she stopped. A thumping sound on the stairs froze her where she stood. Her heart pounded as she waited for whatever it was to show itself. The something upstairs was coming down.

  The thumping stopped and nothing happened. Slowly, one step at a time, Christa forced herself to go forward. When she reached the foot of the stairs she looked up. Nothing. There was no one there. But Georgie was at her feet. Dropping the tissue in her hands, Christa snatched up the stuffed green turtle and ran.

  CHAPTER 6

  Nolan brushed a fly from his leg with one hand and scratched lazily at the hair around his navel with the other. He had been shedding clothes for the last two hours, shirt, socks, shoes, until he'd finally decided to go in and dig some shorts and sandals out of his suitcase. Upstairs he'd opened every window he could find to try to air the place out. The heat and the musty smell were enough to make his nose hairs curl, and if layers of dust could be read like rings on a tree, then it was his guess that the top floor hadn't been used since Vic was a baby.

  He mentioned this when Vic finally came out to join him on the front porch. Vic opened the Coleman cooler beside the peeling porch swing and drew out a beer before sitting down. "I stopped at the churchyard and saw Dad's grave."

  "I know," Nolan said. "You told me. Did you hear me about the upstairs?"

  "Yeah, I heard you. Myra said she tried to talk Dad into renovating, but he wasn't interested."

  Nolan licked beer and sweat from his upper lip. "That must've been when she thought it was coming to her."

  Vic ignored him. "I always thought he was loaded. He'd talk about these studs worth ungodly amounts of money and I pictured this place as a real Sunnybrook Farm. Now I come here and find furniture and appliances one step past apple crates and woodstoves. At first I think he's eccentric, right? Or a tightwad. But then I ask Myra what he did with all his money, and she says she doesn't know. I start to think okay, maybe he spent it on her, but then I look around and see that she doesn't have shit."

  "She's got twenty grand in a C.D. at the bank in Garden City," Noland said.

  Vic looked at him in exasperation. "Will you get off that? That twenty is a drop in the bucket compared to what he must've had when this place was running."

  "So what happened to it?" Nolan asked.

  "I don't know." Vic took a swig of beer and wiped his forehead. "I did call the sheriff at a pay phone in the grocery store. He claims he received a report that the horses had been sold prior to Dad's death. The alleged buyers even had my father's signature on the papers to prove it. He figures Dad just forgot to tell Myra. When I asked who gave him the report, and just why these people came to pick up their horses in the middle of the night, he said everything looked legal and there was nothing I could do about it."

  "What about the cut phone lines and the dead animals?" Nolan asked.

  Vic looked at him. "Who told you?"

  "The kid. We talked while you were gone."

  "The sheriff said he didn't know anything about it, and if it was a simple matter of vandalism we should talk to Ed Kisner. He did, however, give me a toll-free number to call for phone repair. I thought that was awfully big of him."

  "When are they coming?"

  "Tuesday at the earliest, Friday at the latest. Myra was lucky the first time, the repairman just happened to be within twenty miles of the area."

  Nolan drained his beer and leaned back. "What do you think? You think someone was trying to run her off?"

  “You mean you believe her now?"

  "I didn't say that. For one thing, I can't see the purpose. Like you said, she doesn't have shit. Unless they wanted that itty bitty air-conditioner in her kitchen window—which I'm seriously considering stealing myself—I can't see any reason to terrorize her and the kid."

  "She has an air-conditioner?" Vic glanced down the drive toward the white single-width mobile home. "I found a fan for the girls, but that's not going to cut it."

  "She's got a television, too," Nolan said. "And it's hooked up to the dish in the back. I asked Cal about it and he said your dad bought it when they first came here. He never got around to buying a TV for himself."

  Vic grunted and got off the swing. "You want another beer?"

  "Yeah. Where are the girls?"

  "In the barn with Cal. Both of them wanted to get out of the house. I guess it's not what they expected either."

  Nolan took the beer Vic offered and screwed the top off with the tips of his fingers. "Well, at least we have a swimming pool. I bet Myra doesn't have a pool."

  Vic held his beer to his face. "A swimming pool?"

  "Yep. There's a big cattle tank out behind the barn. I say we clean the sucker out and fill it up."

  Vic laughed and nearly dropped his beer. "A cattle tank?"

  "It'll hold water," Nolan said. "And if I can get the young genius to show me where the pump and the hose is, we'll have—"

  "Who?" Vic interrupted.

  "Cal. Didn't Miss Myra tell you her son is a walking talking high school graduate?"

  "Must've slipped her mind," Vic said as he returned to the swing. "No shit?"

  "Little fart nearly swindled me out of a radiator for that Mustang in the barn. Hey, I looked at the Lincoln, too. If Mom says okay, Cal is going to show me to the nearest auto salvage tomorrow. I think we can put another gas tank on that big sonofabitch without too much trouble. That's the only thing wrong with it that I can see."

  Vic gave a sudden, bitter laugh. "I can't believe you, Wulf. Why the hell don't you leave? I would, in your position. There's no reason for you to stay here and put up with this sweltering, miserable shit. You brought us here, and I appreciate it, but you don't have to stay and be miserable with us."

  Nolan swatted another fly. Vic wasn't telling him anything he didn't already know. But he'd feel like a jerk if he left now. The way things looked, Vic had left deep shit for even deeper and Nolan wouldn't feel right about abandoning him until he at least had some wheels and a way to leave if necessary. And he was sure it would be necessary. From what he could see, Vic's dad had been something of a nut. The one crazy in the county who didn't plant crops for a living. There was no way for Vic to survive out here. No way Nolan could see. He'd have to put the place up for sale and take what he could get.

  "Hey," he said. "Unless you're kicking me out, I'll leave when I'm ready, okay? When that goat over there starts looking good I'll adios my ass out of here."

  Vic laughed again. "She already looks good to me."

  Nolan glanced over and saw Myra coming up the drive toward them. "Miss Myra or the goat?"

  "Forget it," Vic said, suddenly sober. "I'm not ready for that. I don't even want to talk about it."

  Nolan nodded and fell silent as he watched Myra's approach. She was carrying a basket of vegetables. Her gaze briefly took in Nolan's bare torso and legs before she turned to Vic. "Here are the tomatoes I promised. And some beans, squash, and radishes."

  "Thanks" Vic stood and put down his beer to take the basket from her. He paused then. "Uh, how do I fix the beans and squash?"

  She smiled and Nolan took a closer look. Her eyes were much bluer than his own, her hair a little sandier. Her bo
y looked just like her, but Cal's height had to have come from his father's side. Myra was only three or four inches over five feet. And, he had to admit, she looked pretty good when she smiled.

  "I can show you what to do when you're ready to use them," she said to Vic.

  "Good," he said. "The girls think I'm a dunce in the kitchen as it is. You want a beer?"

  She hesitated then finally nodded. "Sure. Are the kids still in the barn?"

  "Yeah." Vic handed her a beer from the cooler. "I'll just take this stuff in. Be back in a minute."

  When the screen door slammed behind Vic, Myra glanced uncomfortably at Nolan.

  He smiled with pleasure at her unease. "Want some help with that bottle, Myra?"

  "No, I can get it," She bit the scab on her lower lip as she unscrewed the top. Nolan propped his beer on his stomach and began to hum.

  "Your bandages need changing," she observed.

  He glanced down. "Are you volunteering?"

  "No. What happened?"

  "I played jump rope too long."

  A light of scorn entered her eyes. "Cal said he talked to you today. I understand you were a fire—"

  "Speaking of Cal," Nolan interrupted. "I'd like to take him with me tomorrow and let him guide me to a few salvage yards. We may be able to find a gas tank for the Lincoln and a radiator for that Mustang."

  "No," she said.

  “Why?”

  "Because I can't afford a radiator and I don't want him running off with someone I don't know and definitely don't like."

  "Dislike aside, we're talking about a used radiator here, Myra. Unless you're down to nickels and dimes, a used one isn't going to hurt much."

  "It'll hurt more than you know," she said. "But that's beside the point. Cal wouldn't know what to do with a radiator if we had one."

  "Oh, I think he would," Nolan said. "He's pretty quick. I noticed that without him telling me."

  Her mouth tightened. "You must have aggravated him. He usually doesn't tell anyone unless he feels the need to defend himself. . .or me."

  Nolan smiled again. "He was defending you."

  "Okay," Vic said as he swung open the screen door. "All put away. Nolan, did you ask Myra about taking Cal out tomorrow?"

  "Just now," he said. "She doesn't like me so she won't let him go."

  Myra sucked in her breath and looked at Vic. "I can't afford a radiator right now, used or otherwise. I'll need every penny I have to stay alive until August."

  "Does that mean you were counting on Vic's having the wheels to take you to town once a week until then?" Nolan asked.

  "Nolan. . ." Vic warned.

  "Because if you were, you must be able to see your mistake by now. If I can't find the salvage yards, we can't find a gas tank for the Lincoln. If we can't find a gas tank for the Lincoln, we can't fix it. And if we can't fix it, Vic can't drive it. Which means he can't drive you. Get it, Mensa Mom?"

  Instead of flaring up and stomping off, as Nolan had expected, she merely delivered an icy smile. "I get it, Uncle Nolan. If Cal wants to go, I won't stop him. But if anything happens to him…”

  "Nothing's going to happen to him," Vic assured her. "Nolan can take care of himself."

  Myra raked her gaze over him. "Judging from the bandages on his hands and the scars on his body, I have my doubts about that."

  Nolan grinned and heaved a huge sigh while batting his eyelids. "She noticed."

  This time she did stalk away. Nolan chuckled and looked at Vic. Vic was frowning.

  "Do you have to do that?" he asked.

  "What?" Nolan replied innocently.

  "Antagonize women who don't immediately fall head over heels for you. You can be such an asshole sometimes, Wulf."

  “I know."

  "Well if you know, then why do you do it?"

  Nolan looked at his beer. "Mental stimulation as opposed to physical. Come on, Vic, it's fun. Right now she's honing the edges of that sharp little wit for our next meeting. And she'll probably lie awake tonight trying to come up with the perfect insult. I'll do the same thing, because I love arguing with a woman who wants to put me in my place. I enjoy the challenge."

  Vic shook his head in disgust. "She's a nice lady, Nolan. I was prepared to believe the worst, but she's very honest and sincere. And she's struggling."

  "Aren't we all," Nolan said into his beer. Then he looked up. "Did she talk about her husband?"

  "No. Why?"

  "No reason. Cal didn't talk about him, either. That made me curious."

  "Why?" Vic repeated.

  "Because teenage boys and young widows usually pepper their conversation with references to the late man in their lives. Cal talked about your dad, not his own."

  "So? Maybe the kid was close to Dad. I'm glad someone was." Vic finished his beer and stood up. "It's getting dark. I'd better round up the girls."

  Nolan nodded and watched him leave the porch in the direction of the barn. Only seconds after he disappeared into the dim interior he reappeared again, both girls and Cal in tow. The blond boy was smiling as he approached the house. Nolan looked at the smile and wondered how long the kid had been starved for company. Genius or not, the isolation had to be rough on him. Tomorrow, Nolan decided, he would take his gloves out of the trunk and see if Cal could throw a baseball.

  "Bath time," Vic said, interrupting Christa's prattle about baby kitties. Andy immediately began to argue with the command as she clomped up the steps of the porch. "Can't we stay up a little longer?" she asked. Then she spied Nolan on the porch swing. "Daddy, Uncle Nolan promised to play another song for us later. It's later, Uncle Nolan. Will you please play a song?"

  Vic lifted his eyebrows. "Play?"

  "Uncle Nolan plays the piano," Christa explained.

  Nolan groaned under his breath at Vic's sudden smile.

  "I didn't know you played, Wulf. How can you know a man ten years and not know he plays piano?"

  "I can't," Nolan said. His hands were aching from the day’s activities. And the bandages needed changing.

  "Yes you can," Christa said. "Today he played rag something and then some Jerry Lewis."

  "Ragtime, huh?" Vic said, still smiling. "I'll be damned. I suppose you dance too?"

  "Lay off," Nolan growled, but Andy was already pulling at his arm. "Just one song," she pleaded. "Just one before we have to take a bath and go to bed. Please?"

  Nolan realized he'd screwed up by ever playing for them in the first place. He wasn't going to get out of this one. He glanced over and saw Cal watching him from the foot of the porch steps. He couldn't read the kid's expression. Reluctantly, he let Andy pull him off the swing and into the house. He sat down on the bench and tried to think of a short song. When he glanced over his shoulder he saw Cal standing on the porch and peering in at them through the screen door. He lifted his chin to beckon the boy in, but Cal ignored him.

  "Okay," Nolan said. He took a deep breath and launched into a dirty ditty about a group of drunken sailors on a visit to a whorehouse reputed to have the most beautiful women in the world. The whores were indeed beautiful, but the men passed out before their choices could be made. The girls, longing for a night off, seized the opportunity and dressed each sailor in a wig and gown and put a sign in the window touting a "rear end special" for the evening. He skipped the verse about the customers' delight and went directly to the last line, where each befuddled sailor volunteered for stand-up duty the next day.

  He was rewarded with the sound of muffled laughter at the screen door, but when he turned Cal was gone.

  "I don't get it," Andy said.

  "Never mind," Vic told her with a scowl in Nolan’s direction. "Come on. Bath time."

  “Uncle Nolan sings good, doesn't he?" Andy said as she clasped her father's hand.

  "I still want to know if he can dance."

  Nolan gave Vic the finger and got up from the bench. After that song, he doubted he'd be asked to sing again. His hands were aching seriously now. He went into the
kitchen and filled up the sink with cool water. The water pressure was terrible, but he credited it to the bath filling at the same time. After stripping the gauze bandages off and soaking his hands for a soothing few minutes, he climbed wearily up the stairs and fell into the bed in the first bedroom at the top of the stairs. He left his hands uncovered. He didn't know where the hell his new first aid stuff was. He guessed he'd find it in the morning.

  The moment his eyes closed he heard a small voice calling to him from the bottom of the stairs. It was Christa. "You didn't say goodnight, Uncle Nolan. Daddy, he didn't say…I will…I'm just telling him goodnight."

  "Goodnight," Nolan said loudly.

  "If you get scared up there you can come and sleep with me and…Daddy, I am. Goodnight, Uncle Nolan."

  Nolan smiled to himself and closed his eyes again. After what seemed like five minutes, he woke up to find himself drenched in sweat. He held up his arm to look at his watch and the luminous hands told him he'd been asleep for almost four hours. It was just after two o'clock. He dropped his arm and used the chenille cover on the bed to wipe off his face. His lids drifted shut again, but they shot open a second later when he experienced what felt like a draft on his feet. Cool. He moaned to himself then switched positions on the bed, putting his head where his feet had been.

  Before his lids could close again, the window in the west wall slid shut with a bang.

  "Goddammit." He got off the bed and picked up one of his sandals to use as a prop until he could find something suitable. Once he opened the window his nostrils caught a whiff of something familiar. He stared out into the night and he kept staring until his eyes found the source of the smell. He dropped the sandal and bolted for the door.

  On the way down the stairs he banged on both walls and started shouting for Vic.

  Vic appeared in the hallway with the shotgun in his hands. "What the hell is it?"

  Nolan raced past him. "Trailer's on fire."

  As Nolan left the house he heard the frightened cries of the startled little girls and Vic shouting at them to stay inside. He ran down the gravel drive on bare feet and leaped at the trailer door. It was locked. He banged on the windows, shouting and finally used a garden brick to smash through the big picture window at the north end. Smoke poured out. He knocked out the biggest shards of glass but still managed to slice open his thighs as he pulled himself in. He looked around and saw that he was in the main room. The fire was in the kitchen, and the hall with the bedrooms was beyond. Through the smoke he could see two burning human forms on the kitchen floor.