A Family of Her Own (Dundee, Idaho #3)(35)
Author: Brenda Novak

“I wanted to tell you I got my Internet service this morning.”

“The satellite company came through, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Great. So what are you working on?”

She frowned at the blank screen. “A sample Web site. I—I need to get some stuff out there to show prospective clients.”

“Sounds like a good idea.”

There was a long silence. She knew Booker was waiting for her to either finish the call or tell him whatever she’d phoned to tell him. But she wasn’t sure what that was. She just needed…something.

“I’ll let you go,” she said.

He hesitated. “Katie?”

“What?”

“You feelin’ okay?”

She closed her eyes. “Yeah, sure,” she said and hung up.

JON SMALL, HIS WIFE AND two kids lived in a nice rambler on a piece of land not far from his parents’ place, his brother’s, and his cousin’s. Booker knew the whole Small clan and didn’t like any of them. They were part of a Good Ol’ Boy network that valued loyalty over honesty, an attitude that reminded him too much of some of the supremacist groups he’d encountered in prison. They put a different face on it, of course, but that hypocrisy bothered Booker more than anything else.

Getting out of his truck, he shoved his keys in his pocket and strode up to Jon’s front door. He was worried about Katie and the way she’d sounded on the phone earlier. He should go back to the shop, pick up Delbert and Bruiser, and get home. But he had a few things to say to Jon first.

Jon’s wife, Leah, answered his knock. As soon as she saw who it was, she hid behind the door and peered out at him like a frightened child. “Booker? What are you doing here?”

Booker didn’t bother disliking the women in the Small family. Mostly he felt sorry for them. They had money and maybe even a little prestige, thanks to Daddy Dave. But Jon and his brother drank a lot and Booker suspected, judging by how quiet and withdrawn their wives were, that the men tended to be controlling and possibly even abusive.

“I’m looking for your husband,” he said. “Is he home?”

“What do you want with him?” she asked. “We don’t need any trouble. We’ve got kids here.”

“I’m not out to cause trouble. I just want to talk.”

“He…he’s not here.”

“That isn’t his truck sitting in the driveway?” Booker motioned to the brand-new Chevy he’d seen Jon driving around town.

With a sigh, Leah closed the door. Booker heard the bolt slide home, but he was willing to wait patiently. He knew Jon would eventually appear. The man felt too safe not to agree to see him. And not losing face mattered a great deal to the Smalls.

Sure enough, Jon appeared a few minutes later—with a split lip and a black eye to show for their fight a week ago. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

Booker jerked his head toward the yard. “You got a minute?”

Jon didn’t seem nearly as brave now that he was sober and on his own. He cast a glance at his wife, who stood behind him, then stepped outside and closed the door.

“We’ve never had any problems between us in the past, Booker,” he said, his voice low. “I don’t see why that has to change now.”

“It doesn’t have to change, Jon, so long as you remember one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Stay the hell away from Delbert Dibbs. Otherwise, the situation will end a lot worse than it did last time.”

“Why are you getting involved?” he asked. “Delbert’s not family to you. Granted, we were a little drunk and stupid, but we were just having fun.”

“I’m telling you to have your fun a different way from now on.”

A truck pulled up in the driveway. Jon’s brother, whom everyone called Smalley because of his name and the fact that he weighed nearly three hundred pounds, got out. “What’s going on here, Jon?” he said.

Booker knew Smalley hadn’t shown up by chance. Jon, or maybe Leah, had called him.

Jon didn’t answer, but he stood a little taller and swelled his chest. “You’re a crazy son of a bitch to come out here and threaten me, you know that, Booker?” he said, his voice strident for the first time since Booker had arrived. “If you’re not careful, you’re really going to piss me off.”

“Do I look like I care?” Booker turned his gaze to Smalley, so they’d know his message was meant for both of them. “Just leave Delbert alone. Or you boys’ll be asking for more trouble than you can handle.” With a wave at Leah, who was watching them through the living room window, he walked away.

WHEN BOOKER GOT HOME, Delbert and Bruiser in tow, Katie was upstairs at her computer. He knew she’d heard him come in when she hollered to say there was some coleslaw in the fridge to go with the rolls, and ribs and barbecue beans waiting in the oven. But she didn’t leave her room. Booker didn’t see her all through dinner, or even afterward while he was watching TV.

It was understandable that she’d be preoccupied. She finally had everything she needed to get her Web site business going. But he’d become accustomed to her attention and—he twisted on the couch to look up the stairs—she hadn’t even bothered to stick her head into the hall.

“You want Katie to come down?” Delbert asked. “You want her to play chess with you?”

“I was just wondering what she’s doing,” Booker muttered. He was definitely more transparent than he’d realized if Delbert could pick up on his thoughts. With a scowl, he went back to watching A Few Good Men while Delbert played with Bruiser.

After another thirty minutes, Delbert went to his room, presumably to play the X-Box Booker had bought him for Christmas, which he loved. Booker watched the news, but he could hardly remember how he’d occupied his nights before Katie had shown up again.

Glancing at the clock, he decided that maybe he should go to the Honky Tonk. It was Friday night after all, and he hadn’t been out in weeks. Ashleigh Evans had brought him a chocolate shake at the garage earlier, wanting to know if he’d be in town tonight.

He cast another glance up the stairs toward Katie’s room. He didn’t really want to go anywhere, but he wasn’t about to let himself get too comfortable with his new roommate. Certainly he wasn’t going to allow himself to depend on her in any way….

Using the remote to turn off the television, he went to take a shower.