David smiled. “I guess he’s still working,” is all he said.
Little Billy and the girls were bouncing off the walls with excitement about the dinner tonight. Candice talked about the biscuits, the size-of-your-face ones, all the way there.
James half thought he might get an earful from Janice about picking up twenty-four extra dinners, but he didn’t.
“Does the city pick up the tab for those?” she asked.
“Nope, so we should,” he replied.
“You are a good man, James VanFleet, and this town is lucky to have you.”
The restaurant owner was thrilled with the silver coins, commenting that he gave a 20% discount and had never sold that many dinners to one person.
“Delivery for Mark Jenkins and Calleigh Walters!” said the delivery man at the front desk of the hospital, now staffed by all volunteers.
“Wait. Who’s it from?” she asked.
“Don’t know. I just get paid to deliver,” he responded.
“Okay, I’ll sure pass them along.”
* * * *
The family headed back to town late morning for the funerals.
Jason told James about the chair and that David had gotten it back on track.
“Sounds good! Let’s take a look,” said James.
They stopped in just before 1 p.m., not sure what to expect.
“We came to look at the chair,” said Jason to the shop owner. “I’m sure Cam is out to lunch.”
“No, he’s here. He’s hardly left since yesterday morning. Stayed till after midnight and back this morning at 6. Did you all threaten to kill him?”
“No, nothing like that,” said David. “What I can say is that the man loves his steak and eggs.”
Cam showed off the chair, as if he had never abandoned the project.
“She will be done before sunrise,” he announced, looking more at David than James.
“A man in my position can never have too many chairs,” said James, realizing how privileged and needy he sounded, all at once. “I’ll give one to someone else.”
“Jason, can you ask around and see who’s most in need?”
“I’m your Huckleberry,” said Jason, getting a look from every man there. “What? I thought we were doing a thing? You know—Doc Holiday? Tombstone? Come on, guys!”
“All right, I’ll give you that one,” said James, “and one of my favorite movie lines ever is You’re a Daisy if you do.”
* * * *
Without the Sheriff on site, James said a few words at the funerals. “Lord,” he prayed, “we would ask that you look after our fallen men and women, leaving behind grieving families and friends who will carry their memories forever. It is in your name we pray. Amen.”
He was thanked by several family members for the meal delivered last night and was reminded that nothing stays a secret in a town this small.
* * * *
“One more thing,” said James to his group. “David here happens to be quite fond of our dog, Chance. He did have a sister, and I’m not sure what happened to her.”
“I’ll have someone, possibly the librarian, tell me where to find her owner, and we might be able to look her up before heading home,” said Janice, walking off with Lauren.
“Mommy, wait!” said Carla. “We want to come!”
“Let’s let them go,” said Jason to the children. “They could use a stroll around town, just the two of them.”
James and Jason ate a packed lunch with David and the kids in the park, not seeing Janice and Lauren back for two and a half hours.
“Did you know there’s a wine bar down the street?” Lauren asked the men.
“They make their own, and it’s not half bad!” added Janice, with the men nodding their heads.
“Let’s all take a walk and talk to the dog lady. I have her address,” Janice added.
* * * * * * *
Chapter Thirty-one
Weston, Colorado
“Everyone hang tight,” said Janice, “and stay back on the street. I’ll knock on the door.”
She talked with the woman for several minutes before waving okay and disappearing inside.
There was a smell; it was the smell that caught her. Not the kennel smell of a home dog breeder but the smell like in her old friend’s house—the one she and James scoured to find its occupants dead but not buried.
She looked at the woman’s bruised face and neck, Chance’s former caretaker, and asked. “Your husband. Did he abuse you?”
The hard woman standing like an oak responded with “For the last time.”
Janice nodded, remembering her own mother abused by a boyfriend for years until her stepfather stepped in.
“Show me Daisy,” Janice said. Daisy was the sweetest black lab, with a growl that sent most men running for somewhere, anywhere else. She weighed less than Chance, but not much.
The woman put a leash on her and brought her outside. “Come on over and meet her,” she said.
“That’s okay,” said David, not getting out of the truck. “She looks like a great dog.”
“You haven’t even met her,” said the woman. “Now you’ve come all this way, and she’s getting nervous just standing here, so come on out and at least say hi.”
James had heard this similar line before from the woman and would not be surprised at all if David bought her five minutes after thinking he wouldn’t.
“All right,” said David, exiting the truck. Daisy was on him straightaway, licking his hair, face and both hands.
She turned on her leash, pulling to the end of the rope with a low growl, and barked as a man rode a bicycle by.
“What’s with that?” asked David.
“That man on the bike was released from prison only two years ago. Did a long stint for attacking an innocent woman,” said her owner. “Daisy doesn’t like him.”
“Well, neither do I,” said David, reaching into his pocket.
“Weren’t you just saying something about a Daisy, James?”
“Yeah, it was a classic Tombstone line, but the coincidence may just be fate.”
“I may catch grief for this at home, but how much for Daisy, ma’am…I mean, if she’s for sale even?” David asked.
“Oh sweetie, they’re all for sale, but only to good homes.
