Page 30 of The Killing Plains

Russ nodded and turned to go, but stopped. “Sorry about what I said earlier, Col. I appreciate your help—must’ve been tough as hell, coming here.”

He looked as pained as if he were trying to loosen a rusted fitting with a pipe wrench. Why did men find it so difficult to apologize? She had missed Randy terribly since his death but had not been sorry to leave behind some aspects of married life, and negotiating her way around the male ego was definitely one of them. Russ was sincere, though. That counted for a lot.

“Thanks, Russ. See you tonight.”

Chapter 8

Shortly after five p.m., Colly stood in bra and panties at the foot of the bed, staring at the clothes piled beside her suitcase. Why hadn’t she brought anything nice? She’d packed anticipating long hours pounding the pavement or traipsing through dusty pastures, not dinner parties with her mother-in-law. No one was more adept at making her feel her penniless roots than Iris Newland.

“C’mon, Grandma, we’ll be late,” Satchel whined from the doorway.

Colly felt a rush of misplaced anger. “Is five minutes of privacy too much to ask? Go read a book, please—I’ll be down soon.”

As she closed the door behind him, her phone rang. “Hey, Bren, I’m running late. Wardrobe issues.”

Brenda laughed. “Oh, lord, there’s nothing more confidence-shattering than facing Iris in the wrong outfit.”

Colly sighed. Such a relief to talk to someone who understood.Wear whatever. No one will care, Randy would have said with maddening reasonableness. She suddenly liked her sister-in-law immensely.

“I didn’t bring any dresses, or even a pair of nice slacks.”

“We’re about the same size—you can wear something of mine. Come on over.”

“Bren, you’re an angel.”

Throwing on jeans and a t-shirt, Colly grabbed her purse and bundled Satchel into the car. Following Brenda’s directions, she pulled up a few minutes later in front of a modest frame house in a leafy neighborhood. Brenda’s minivan was parked beneath the carport. A yellow hatchback sat in the driveway behind it.

Satchel ran ahead to ring the bell. A stocky ten-year-old opened the door. “Mom, they’re here!” the boy bellowed, then grabbed Satchel’s wrist. “Come check out my room.”

Brenda emerged from somewhere. “Forgive Logan’s manners. He’s been so excited to see Satchel.”

“I like the new place.”

“Thanks. Lowell hates that I moved the kids to the ‘wetback end of town,’ as he calls it. Such a racist. He thought it was a power play to guilt more money out of him. He can’t imagine I’d actuallywantto live here. The neighbors are wonderful.”

Brenda led Colly into a small, tidy living room, where a teenage girl sat on the sofa, lazily thumbing through a magazine and watching a curly headed six-year-old girl color a picture.

“Hey, Aunt Colly.” The teenager unwound her long limbs and rose. “It’s awesome you’re helping Dad with the case.”

“Alice, my goodness, you’re so tall.” Russ had been right—with the same striking combination of ash-blond hair and russet skin, Alice Newland had developed into the image of her mother since Colly had seen her last. But she refrained from saying so. She knew how painful it was to be reminded of the dead.

“Minnie, say hello,” Brenda urged as the little girl leapt up and buried her face in her mother’s dress. “Sorry, we’re shy today.” Brenda petted the girl’s hair. “Alice has offered to take the kids to the ranch early—they want to ride horses before dark. Is that okay with you?”

“Well—”

“Don’t worry about Satchel,” Alice said. “We’ll stick to the trails in the shinnery. It’s shady there.”

“All right, but keep an eye out. He needs the hat and sun-sleeves, even in the shade. When he’s excited, he sometimes forgets.”

After Alice and the younger children had driven away in the yellow hatchback, Brenda shut the door and leaned against it. “Finally, some peace. I love my kids, but parenting’s just so daily.”

Colly laughed. “I’m constantly exhausted. Satchel’s higher-maintenance than Victoria ever was.”

“He’s lucky to have you. C’mon, let’s find you an outfit.”

A half-hour later, Colly stood in front of Brenda’s bedroom mirror, gazing at a reflection of herself in a pale blue scoop-neck dress.

“Perfect,” Brenda said. “Luckily, it goes all right with your flats. My feet are bigger than yours.”