They drove in silence for a mile or two, then she said, “I’m glad you’re going with me. Maybe we could have lunch at the diner after I get my hair cut.”
“Like a real date?”
“More like a nice meal while you tell me what I could get for Timmy.”
“You don’t need to get him anything. You already gave him a cat, remember? Which, incidentally, he named after you. Probably because she’s been indiscreet with a big, handsome tomcat who lives in the alley behind the group home.”
“That hussy.”
“You know cats. When an especially sexy tom comes by, they can’t seem to help themselves.”
“So I’ve heard. What are you getting Timmy?”
“A tool belt and some tools for his new handyman job.”
“Maybe I could get him his own toolbox. I could get those stick-on letters and put his name on it.”
Dalton smiled at her, warmed by her kindness toward his brother. Most folks treated Timmy with kid gloves or pretended they didn’t see him. “He’d like that.”
Rough Creek was hopping, which meant almost a dozen cars and trucks were parked along Main Street. Dalton wondered how much longer all the mom-and-pop stores could hold out against the big-box warehouses that were slowly spreading along the highways out from Lubbock. He loved the small-town atmosphere of Rough Creek, and the fact that everyone knew most everyone else, and the churches were still the place to be on Sunday. He would hate to see it end.
“Let’s go to the hardware store first,” Raney suggested. “By the way, when is Timmy’s birthday?”
“Today.”
She gave him another look. This one was indignant. “That’s today? Waiting kind of late, aren’t you?”
“I forgot until my mother mentioned it yesterday.” Dalton parked in front of Ace Hardware and opened his door. “Let’s see what they’ve got.”
The store had exactly what they wanted: a leather tool belt with several pouches and hangers to hold Timmy’s new hammer, screwdrivers, pliers, wrenches, etc., and a red toolbox with a lock and removable tray for smaller items. Raney also found silver stick-on letters, but since Tim Cardwell was too long to fit, she settled for his initials. After Dalton added a pair of red suspenders to help hold up the belt, they went to the drugstore for gift bags.
Dalton found a card for his brother, then followed Raney around while she filled a basket from a long list. He never realized women needed so much makeup to make it look like they didn’t wear any makeup at all. Another stop at the dry cleaner’s, then Dalton decided that while Raney had her hair cut, he’d get a fill-up and an oil change in case he had to drive her to Lubbock. He sure as hell wasn’t going to sit and wait on her in a beauty salon.
“Give me an hour,” she said as they put the packages and dry cleaning in the truck. “Then meet me at the diner. Burger and iced tea.”
* * *
Marlene was the owner-operator of the town’s only beauty parlor and had been doing haircuts and manicures for the Whitcomb women forever. She was also the biggest gossip in Rough Creek, but not in a malicious way. Mostly she kept her patrons informed of the latest news—50 percent of which might actually be true.
“How’s Joss doing?” she asked as she shampooed Raney’s hair. “Heard she was at the hospital in Lubbock with her baby’s daddy. Think they’ll get married?”
News sure traveled fast in Rough Creek. “He’s asked, but so far, Joss hasn’t accepted. We’re hoping she will. He’s a nice guy.”
“Hmmm,” said a woman wearing a foil cap and sitting in a nearby chair. A retired teacher named Ruthie and a busybody if there ever was one. Raney reminded herself to watch her words or before the week was over, she’d hear five different versions of everything she’d said.
A few minutes later, Marlene wrapped a towel around Raney’s wet head and moved her to a worn barber chair. As she put on the drape and adjusted the height, she studied Raney in the mirror. “Is it true Dalton Cardwell is working at your ranch? I hear he changed a lot in prison. How much do you want trimmed?”
“An inch. No bangs.”
In the chair beside Raney and Marlene, Helen Foster, an elderly lady with wads of cotton between her freshly manicured toes, said, “Suze Anderson told me he’s put on a lot of weight and muscle. Got into a fight out at the Roadhouse and put three men in the hospital. They ought to shut that place down.”
“Hmmm,” Ruthie said from her chair across the room. “’Roid rage.”
“Actually, he only sent the two men who started the fight to the hospital,” Raney corrected. “And he doesn’t take steroids.” Was this what Dalton had to face every time he came to town?
“Your mama know you’ve got an ex-con working out there?” Marlene asked.
“Of course she does. She’s the one who hired him.”
None of the ladies responded to that. No one questioned Mama or cast doubt on her decisions. Four Star—and by extension, her mother—spent a great deal of money in Rough Creek, and that carried a lot of sway with the townsfolk, especially struggling shop owners like Marlene.
“Heard his family up and moved to Plainview,” Helen Foster said. “Was it because of his arrest, do you think?”
“Probably ashamed,” Ruthie muttered.
“It had nothing to do with their son,” Raney assured them. “They moved to Plainview because they were tired of working their ranch and sold it.” Hoping to shift the talk away from Dalton and his family before she really gave Ruthie something to talk about, Raney threw out a tidbit of her own. “Did you hear that Bertie Barton eloped to Las Vegas and is moving to Oklahoma?”
Three shocked faces turned her way.
Marlene recovered first. “Who did she marry?”
“A veterinarian named Phil. They worked at the same clinic in Fort Worth.”
“What’d her mama have to say about
