Page 36 of The Sound of Sleighbells

“Damn it, Ruth—”

Before he could say more, she closed the door. Her stumbling feet carried her down the steps into the yard. She had almost reached her station wagon when a voice from out of the twilight raised goose bumps on her skin.

“Well, if it isn’t the lovely Miz Ruthie. Fancy meeting you here.” Digger stood next to his motorcycle, blocking her way out of the yard. His face wore a mocking grin. “You look a mite upset,” he said. “What’s the matter? Did you and Judd have a lover’s quarrel?”

Rage and fear made Ruth’s head swim. She stood her ground, knowing that she couldn’t let him intimidate her. “Get lost, Digger,” she said. “If I see you anywhere near my home or my children again, I’m calling the sheriff, and you’ll find yourself back behind bars.”

“It’s a free country,” he said.

“Not for you, it isn’t. Now get out of my way before I run you down.”

She climbed into the station wagon, switched on the headlights, and gunned the engine. Taking his time, and still grinning, Digger walked his bike to one side, letting her pass. She shot down the lane and onto the gravel road that led back to Abner’s place. Partway there, after making sure she was out of Digger’s sight, she pulled onto the side of the road. Hands shaking, she switched off the engine and headlights, lowered the side window, and sagged forward with her forehead resting against the steering wheel.

The night breeze, blowing in through the window, was chilly enough to make her shiver. But her face felt hot and damp. She couldn’t go back to Abner’s looking like this. She needed a few minutes to calm down.

What a miserable mess she’d made of things tonight. She should never have gone to Judd’s house. She should never have let him kiss her. Worst of all, she should never have told him about his son. Now it was as if everything that was troubling her had gone from bad to worse.

But it was too late for a do-over. All she could do was go home and try to create a memorable Christmas for Tammy, Janeen, and Skip. In the end, her precious children, and their happiness, were all that mattered.

As she started the engine and pulled back onto the road, the memory of Judd’s kiss swept over her in a flush of heat. For that moment in his arms, she’d felt like her young, passionate self again, lost in the feel of his body against hers and the unforgettable taste of his mouth.

But then she’d come to her senses. She and Judd were different people now. Time and tragedy had wiped out the past. The wild, giddy love they’d shared was gone forever.

* * *

Sunday was gray and gloomy with a drizzle of freezing rain. When the sky failed to clear, Digger gave up waiting, donned his cheap nylon slicker, and set off for town on his motorcycle.

His mood was as dark as the weather. Last night, an angry Judd had taken him to task, laying down the rules in no uncertain terms—no alcohol, no weed, no speaking to the boys when they were here. And on pain of instant banishment, he was to leave Ruth strictly alone.

He would have six weeks to find a job and a place to live, preferably somewhere away from Branding Iron. After that, or if he violated any of Judd’s conditions, his fate would be left to his parole officer.

Damn Judd Rankin! They’d been friends once. But Judd had been lucky after leaving prison. Now that he had a cattle ranch, a thriving business, and money in the bank, he was too good for his old pal. Digger would have enjoyed torching Judd’s fancy place and watching it burn to the ground. But that wasn’t going to happen. He’d be a fool to risk his freedom on revenge when what he needed was cash.

Lights were glowing up and down Main Street, but the shops were closed. Only the convenience store on the outskirts of town was open. Digger bought a beer and took the change in quarters for the phone. What he had to tell Ed should earn him more clues. But he was getting damned sick of this game. All he wanted was to find Ed’s hidden cocaine stashes, sell the drugs to a dealer out at Rowdy’s Roost, and hightail it over the border.

“This better be good, Digger,” Ed growled as he took the call. “You woke me out of a sound sleep.”

“It’s good, all right.” Digger related, with some embellishments, how he’d seen Ruth coming out of Judd’s house. “Looked to me like she was pulling her blouse together,” he lied, imagining the expression on Ed’s face. “Now it’s your turn to come through for me. I can’t get close enough to that old station wagon to search it. If you ever want me to call you again, I need more to go on.”

Ed sighed. “All right. You’ve got to raise the tailgate and pull off the panel. It’s right there. I just wish I could count on you to kill that Rankin bastard for me.”

“You know better than that, Ed. I’m not a murderer. Come on, tell me about that other big stash you mentioned. Where did you hide that?”

“Not yet. Maybe next time if you bring me something good.”

Digger ended the call and drank the beer he’d bought. Damn Ed to hell. This game was all the power the brute had, and he was doing his best to pull Digger’s strings, even from prison. Meanwhile, Digger was getting low on cash, and he could hardly ask Judd for more. Somehow, he had to find a way into that station wagon.

* * *

Judd had spent Sunday and most of Monday alone, working on the saddles. He had made decent progress but keeping his hands busy was one thing. Keeping his thoughts focused was another.

Skip was his son. His and Ruth’s. And he had lived the past sixteen years of his life without knowing he was a father—years he would never get back again.

For the past two days, his emotions had ricocheted from joy and wonder to cold, black anger. Ruth could have let him know—sent him a letter, even a photo or two to buoy his spirits in that bleak hellhole of a prison. She could have waited. They could have been a family.

But faced with five years of struggling to raise a child on her own, she had put her baby’s welfare first. It had been to her credit that she’d found a good man. She’d raised a fine son and two sweet girls despite the rough years with Ed McCoy.

But why couldn’t she have given Skip’s real father a chance to do right by his boy?

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