do for themselves.
Shouts and sobs swirled through the crowd. Bump, who appeared to have been elected leader presumably because he’d been the go-between for the deal, stepped out of the throng and removed his hat.
“It was an honor to have met you. You make our lives better with your songs. As a tribute, one of us will stand guard over your granny’s house, and we’ll keep a candle burning until you return. It’s the least we can do.” For the sake of the National Enquirer, which had a reporter not ten feet from Bump, his voice dripped solemnity and purpose. “Just like Graceland.”
Wow, that was laying it on kinda thick.
Betts pressed her lips together while her brain scrounged for something suitable to say for the media’s sake. Instead she nodded graciously, sniffed loudly hoping that conveyed that she was too emotional to speak, rolled up the window, and pulled away from the curb.
A green Dodge Durango pulled in behind her. Behind him, a dark blue Ford F-150 fell in line, followed by a silver Mazda, a black Mercury Cougar, and a white Toyota Corolla brought up the rear. It was Betts’s own going away escort. Like the Mayor leading the Christmas parade, Betts turned onto Highway 80 and headed to the county line. As she approached the green-and-white road sign signaling the end of Harrison County and the beginning of Gregg, Betts looked in the rearview and prayed they weren’t going to follow her all the way to the ranch.
Twenty minutes later, she turned onto the road that led to the ranch.
This was the first day of Betts’s new life. She’d be close to her son. They could go for walks in the woods and talk about girls or play music together. She’d cook for him, and maybe in time, he’d call her Mom. Delight bubbled inside her. In short, she was knocking on normal’s door.
She looked up and stomped on the brake just in time. The old Mustang squealed to a stop a hair’s breadth from the shiny new padlock bolting the front gate together.
“Son of a bitch.” Betts rolled her neck trying to work out some of the stiffness.
Gabe wanted to play. This was payback for the cold shower. She shook her head. He got credit for trying, but creativity wasn’t his strong suit. She stepped out of the car and, knowing that it wouldn’t do a bit of good, she rattled the gate, testing the lock. The gate remained closed.
The ground to the left of the gate was pretty level. A couple of scrawny pine trees and some spindly shrubs were all that stood between her and entry to her land. Betts smiled as she pulled out her cell phone and dialed Mama.
Mama picked up on the second ring. “I’m kinda busy right now. Can I call you back?”
“Nope. This is an emergency. I need a chainsaw and…” Betts’s stomach growled, “a large Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup Blizzard—”
“Are we having a party? Why didn’t you tell me? I’ll grab some wine too. Something dry and red. Red always goes well with mayhem and destruction.” Mama hung up.
Betts grinned. Mama meant well…or Betts hoped she meant well.
Betts’s phone rang, and she jumped because it was still pressed to her ear. After checking the caller ID, she answered.
“In all the excitement, I forgot to ask where to make your delivery.” Mama said.
“The ranch—”
“What ranch?”
“My ranch.”
“You have a ranch?”
Betts rolled her eyes. “You know that land where you parked my tour bus?”
“That’s not a ranch. That’s some land with cows. A ranch has a huge house, horses, barns, ranch hands, a cool name like The Double D—”
“The Double D—really? Your bra size and your high school grades all mixed up in the same versatile letter.”
Betts was pretty sure that her family tree had been struck by lightning because that was the only explanation for Mama.
“Jealous much? It’s not my fault you can still wear the bikini top that I bought you in second grade—”
“Small-busted women have big hearts.” Betts glanced down at
Shouts and sobs swirled through the crowd. Bump, who appeared to have been elected leader presumably because he’d been the go-between for the deal, stepped out of the throng and removed his hat.
“It was an honor to have met you. You make our lives better with your songs. As a tribute, one of us will stand guard over your granny’s house, and we’ll keep a candle burning until you return. It’s the least we can do.” For the sake of the National Enquirer, which had a reporter not ten feet from Bump, his voice dripped solemnity and purpose. “Just like Graceland.”
Wow, that was laying it on kinda thick.
Betts pressed her lips together while her brain scrounged for something suitable to say for the media’s sake. Instead she nodded graciously, sniffed loudly hoping that conveyed that she was too emotional to speak, rolled up the window, and pulled away from the curb.
A green Dodge Durango pulled in behind her. Behind him, a dark blue Ford F-150 fell in line, followed by a silver Mazda, a black Mercury Cougar, and a white Toyota Corolla brought up the rear. It was Betts’s own going away escort. Like the Mayor leading the Christmas parade, Betts turned onto Highway 80 and headed to the county line. As she approached the green-and-white road sign signaling the end of Harrison County and the beginning of Gregg, Betts looked in the rearview and prayed they weren’t going to follow her all the way to the ranch.
Twenty minutes later, she turned onto the road that led to the ranch.
This was the first day of Betts’s new life. She’d be close to her son. They could go for walks in the woods and talk about girls or play music together. She’d cook for him, and maybe in time, he’d call her Mom. Delight bubbled inside her. In short, she was knocking on normal’s door.
She looked up and stomped on the brake just in time. The old Mustang squealed to a stop a hair’s breadth from the shiny new padlock bolting the front gate together.
“Son of a bitch.” Betts rolled her neck trying to work out some of the stiffness.
Gabe wanted to play. This was payback for the cold shower. She shook her head. He got credit for trying, but creativity wasn’t his strong suit. She stepped out of the car and, knowing that it wouldn’t do a bit of good, she rattled the gate, testing the lock. The gate remained closed.
The ground to the left of the gate was pretty level. A couple of scrawny pine trees and some spindly shrubs were all that stood between her and entry to her land. Betts smiled as she pulled out her cell phone and dialed Mama.
Mama picked up on the second ring. “I’m kinda busy right now. Can I call you back?”
“Nope. This is an emergency. I need a chainsaw and…” Betts’s stomach growled, “a large Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup Blizzard—”
“Are we having a party? Why didn’t you tell me? I’ll grab some wine too. Something dry and red. Red always goes well with mayhem and destruction.” Mama hung up.
Betts grinned. Mama meant well…or Betts hoped she meant well.
Betts’s phone rang, and she jumped because it was still pressed to her ear. After checking the caller ID, she answered.
“In all the excitement, I forgot to ask where to make your delivery.” Mama said.
“The ranch—”
“What ranch?”
“My ranch.”
“You have a ranch?”
Betts rolled her eyes. “You know that land where you parked my tour bus?”
“That’s not a ranch. That’s some land with cows. A ranch has a huge house, horses, barns, ranch hands, a cool name like The Double D—”
“The Double D—really? Your bra size and your high school grades all mixed up in the same versatile letter.”
Betts was pretty sure that her family tree had been struck by lightning because that was the only explanation for Mama.
“Jealous much? It’s not my fault you can still wear the bikini top that I bought you in second grade—”
“Small-busted women have big hearts.” Betts glanced down at
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