Page 89 of Small Town Hunter

“My granddaughter has been traumatized. She is young and impressionable with a big heart. She doesn’t always know when someone has her best interests. You can believe that the only reason I was persuaded to help you is because she begged me.”

“I understand how it looks, Ma’am. But the truth is I protected her when she had nobody. I’d do it again. She’s got more pluck than you give her credit.”

“Mister Walker, I found my granddaughterin a jail cell, clinging to your unconscious, bloody body. What do you have to say to that? Was that ‘protecting’ her?”

“I never meant for that to happen,” I say tightly.

“Trina claimed you promised to take her to California. She said you are a bounty hunter by profession. You needed the money to resolve a custody battle. Is that correct?”

“Is that what she told you?”

“Yes.”

I don’t believe Trina would make me out to be some fortune-seeking slimeball, but then again, do I know her at all? Barely three days had passed between the moment I first eyes on her in that wedding dress and the last time, in the cell. But I suppose that unflattering description of my motives is technically the truth.

“I never hurt Trina, and I put that on my own daughter,” I say firmly. “Ma’am, you might not agree with my profession but you won’t tell me I don’t care for that girl deeply, understand? Where is she now?”

“I did some research on you,” the old woman says, not answering my question. “While I appreciate your service to our country, you’re not licensed to operate as a bounty hunter in the state of Oklahoma. You have no family out here, no connections. So whyareyou here?”

Damn this bitch.

“I was here on a job. It had nothing to do with Trina, but I agreed to help her.”

“I know men, Mister Walker. Rarely are they as altruistic as they seem. Do you know what that word means? There’s not a man alive that wouldn’t pressure a naive, gentle, beautiful girl like Trina into some kind of dirtyagreementto keep her safe.”

“I know what it means. And that’s your opinion, not a fact.”

Her eyes glitter. “Whether you’re right, or I am, you should know Trina is at the doctor right now doing a full examination and STD panel. After her treatment she will be coming back with me to California, where abortion isstilllegal in case there are anyloose endsthat need tying.”

I don’t know what possesses me to say, “Trina would never get an abortion.”

“Is that what you think?” says the old woman, rage shattering her veneer of respectability. “You think you can impregnate my baby girl and get something out of it? Think again, you dirty redneck. Shewillhave an abortion, and youwill notget a red cent more from her now, tomorrow, orever.”

“To hell with your insinuations!”

“I’ll take my leave after you thank me,” the old bitch smiles, clutching her purse like she wants to bludgeon me to death with it.

“Thank you? What the hell for?”

She leans over the bed. “For getting you out of the Tippalonga Jail, paying off the Sheriff and making sure you were taken to the hospital, where they saved your life.” A manicured finger waves in my face. “Additionally, I called your sister to inform her you were here. Believe me, I was ready to let you rot in that cell, but Trina threw a blue fit and I had to admit that without you she would be dead or enslaved to that filthy man.”

It’s like chewing glass to tell her, “If that’s true, then you do have my thanks. I’m obliged to you.”

“Obliged.Yes. Well, there is something you can do for me, Mister Walker. Get in your car and go back to wherever you came from.”

She walks to the window. “What a terrible place. A wasteland. So many times I begged that girl to leave.” She dabs her eyes but I feel no sympathy.

“And where were you?” I demand, swinging my legs off the bed. “While Trina was getting engaged and wedded to that bastard, where were you? Sitting pretty in California. When her daddy was selling her, where were you? You have money, don’t you? You could have bailed her old man out so he wouldn’t have to sell her to that freak. You’re her own flesh and blood, and you let her be their sacrificial lamb.”

My words seem to shake her. She stares at me wide-eyed.

“I washere,” I tell her. “I was here making sure she never had to go through what you’re so convinced I put her through.”

She lifts her chin. “Trina knew she could stay with me at any time.”

“What good did that do? She didn’t even know how to ride the damned bus!” I explode. “Expired license -– no bank account — this is damn near closing the barn door after the horse has bolted.”

For the first time her accusing voice falters. “I didn’t think it would come to this. Her father came to me for the money but I refused to beusedby my son anymore.Of course out in California…so far away…It was difficult to stay in touch.”

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