Cowboy Hank (Cooper's Hawke Landing Book 3) Page 3

  The desk phone rang and he picked it up on the second ring, “Yeah?”

  “Hank, it’s Boone.” Background noise made it hard to hear.

  “Where the hell are you? In a popcorn machine?”

  “In my truck. Wait, I’ll turn down the radio. Better?”

  “Yeah. Why are you calling?” Hank gripped the receiver between his chin and shoulder and leaned in to settle his elbows on the edge of the desk, his gaze glued to the monitor. His curiosity was piqued regarding the brunette. They didn’t get many strangers at Pelican, or Cooper’s Hawk for that matter, at least of the female variety. He had a feeling she didn’t come in to grab a drink and listen to the band, which made him even more interested.

  “Did you forget something?” Boone’s sigh rattled the line.

  Hank wracked his brain. “Hell if I know. I figure you’re going to tell me.”

  “I dropped the new refrigerator off at the cabin. The thing was a bitch to move. You’re welcome.”

  “Damn, I forgot. I was supposed to meet you out there to help unload it.”

  “Creed helped. We managed. We figured you’d be tired after you spent most of the day searching for the missing hiker.”

  “I got a few hours of sleep in.” He scrubbed his brow, closed his eyes for a mere second and when he opened them again the woman was back on camera.

  Boone kept talking but Hank didn’t listen.

  The woman hesitated near the jukebox before mingling in with the crowd, took a wide turn, then passed between a row of staggered tables. She stopped next to an uncleared table, swung her head from left to right then she snatched food off a plate.

  What the hell?

  “Shit, Boone. I’ll call you back.” He slammed the receiver down and stood so fast that his chair hit the wall.

  *****

  “I’m cold, Mommy.”

  “I know, sweetie. I am too.” Helena readjusted the weight of Freya on her hip. Forty pounds didn’t seem like a lot until one had to lug it around. Helena did her best to shield her daughter’s face from the sting of the rain. They were both soaked now after they’d been walking on the country road for what seemed like forever but had only been twenty minutes. The fog had lifted some, but the rain continued…and her arms were tired. She didn’t know how much longer she could carry Freya.

  She cursed the signs in the area. They all lied.

  “Why did we leave the car?”

  “I told you, honey. We had no choice. It wasn’t going anywhere.”

  “Can we fix it?”

  Helena’s throat tightened. “I’m not sure there is any fixing it.”

  Tears spilled from Helena’s eyes, mingling with the wetness from the rain. Guilt weighed heavily on her. Her daughter didn’t ask for this—any of this.

  She’d given up on the idea that they’d ever find shelter from the weather until finally the glow of lights appeared ahead. Were they finally reaching the town? Helena gave a silent prayer hoping they’d find a form of respite from the wet and cold soon. Freya had just gotten over having a cold and she didn’t need another.

  As they grew closer to the lights, relief spread through Helena until she read the neon, flashing sign. “Pelican Hawke Bar and Grill.” Cars filled the parking lot of the two story, brick building and the rumbling music of a live band spilled out.

  Helena could remember a time when life was easy and she and her friends would often be out enjoying a girls’ night, no worries and no concerns. Then she found out that she was pregnant and her life changed.

  Dragging her thoughts back on track, she had more serious things to ponder than old friends who’d moved on.

  “We’ll have to walk a little further.” The words were barely out of Helena’s mouth when a bolt of lightning flashed across the sky above them. Freya screamed and buried her face. A loud rumble of thunder vibrated the ground beneath Helena’s soaked tennis shoes.

  Freya was sobbing now.

  “I’m scared, Mommy.”

  “Don’t be, Freya. It’s only a storm. Remember how we would sing and read stories during storms?”

  “Yes. Can we sing?”

  “Sure.” Although Helena barely had the energy to walk ten more feet let alone belt out a song, if it eased Freya’s worries that was what mattered. Helena began humming then started singing Uptown Girl. It had always seemed to relax Freya even when she was a baby.

  Another bolt of lightning flashed.

  Thunder roared.

  Freya sniffled.

  “I’ll find somewhere for us to get out of the weather.” Helena had to do something.

  She couldn’t take her daughter inside the bar, so where could they go? Shoulders slumping, she felt herself slipping near the edge of an adult meltdown. For the past six months she’d held it together, patching her weaknesses with hope. She could go back home, lower her pride and marry Craven. She’d be unhappy but at least Freya would be warm, dry and have some form of a childhood.

  Or would she?

  In the future would she too be passed around like a collection plate?

  Lightning flashed again and in the distance she saw a small red shed behind the bar. Since they’d been on the run Helena hadn’t done anything illegal, like trespassing, but she and Freya were cold and the storm wasn’t easing. How much longer could she go?

  Freya coughed.

  The shed would have to do.

  Security lights surrounded the bar making it bright, and making them noticeable, but to get to the shed they had to cross the parking lot. Helena hurried through the rows of vehicles and when headlights flickered, they hid between two trucks. A man wearing a hat and a rain jacket climbed out of the car and made his way inside.

  Helena sighed in relief. They hadn’t been spotted.

  Thankfully, the beams of light didn’t stretch into the yard behind the business and she and Freya were able to slink through the shadows undetected. By the time she reached the shed that sat close to the wood’s edge, her legs were jelly, and her shoes were so waterlogged they kept slipping off her feet.

  “Freya, I need to put you down.” The little girl whimpered in resistance. “It’s okay. I need free hands.” She lowered her daughter to the ground. “Stand against the wall out of the rain and don’t move.”

  Helena felt her legs wobble slightly then caught her balance. Rolling her neck side to side then front to back to ease the tension in her muscles, she used her pruned fingertips to rub the knotted muscles.

  Hunkering under the roof as she dug through her bag finding the plastic flashlight she clicked on the dim light to shine it through the small window. She could make out gardening tools, a mower and a few boxes stacked up in one corner. Moving the light onto the padlock of the door, she weighed her risks. Breaking in could have serious consequences. Homeless with a child would be considered risky enough but breaking into someone’s property could land her in jail. Then what would happen to Freya?

  Seeing her daughter shivering and her bottom lip quivering ripped through Helena.

  “Mommy, I’m cold,” Freya whimpered.

  “Okay, sweetheart.” Finding a hand-sized rock along the bottom of the shed, Helena used it to strike the lock until the rusty metal gave way. Once the door was open, she gave a quick inspection through the dark space then grabbed Freya’s hand and pulled her inside.

  “Are there spiders? I don’t like spiders.”

  “If there are, I’ll evict them,” Helena assured Freya.

  At this point, Helena would rather share the space with creepy crawlies than be out in the cold.

  Her body absorbed the warmth and she finally stopped shaking although her skin was wrinkled and her arms sore. Freya was still coughing. Slipping the bag off her shoulders, Helena dug inside to retrieve the inhaler. “Here, sweetie. Puff on this.”

  “I don’t need it,” Freya winkled her nose.

  “Let me be the judge of that.”

  After two puffs, she seemed to breathe better, although the dust in the
shed probably wasn’t going to help matters any.

  “Let’s get you out of these wet things.” Helena searched through their meager belongings and took out a shirt that was three times too large for Freya, but at least it was dry. Her tiny body seemed to swim in the cotton. “Warmer?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good, sweetheart.”

  The blanket was soaked so Helena hung it over the seat of the mower and took out a thin towel, caping it around Freya’s tiny shoulders. “Better?”

  “Yes. But I don’t like it here. It stinks.”

  “That’s oil, probably from the mower. I’m sorry, baby. I know it’s not the Ritz.”

  “What’s the riz?”

  “Ritz. Something we’ll never see again.” She hugged her daughter’s shoulders. “It’s only for the night.” But then what? She and Freya had stayed on the move, outrunning an invisible noose that felt like it was slowly catching up to them, especially with the car stranded miles away.

  The sound of the rain hitting the tin roof had faded some and hopefully the storm had finally moved on so Freya could get some sleep. “Lay back and try to rest,” Helena encouraged.

  The darkness seemed to envelope them as Helena stared through the tiny window, focusing on every sound, every feathering of light from cars entering and leaving the parking lot. The flooring was uncomfortable and she couldn’t relax. Fear nestled deep in her bones. What would she do if someone found them?

  Music overflowed from the bar and Helena tried to guess each song playing.

  “I’m hungry,” Freya whispered.

  She hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast and Helena hadn’t had but a bite of a sandwich since lunch yesterday. “Okay. Let me look.” Digging into the zipper pouch of the backpack, she found only an empty wrapper. “We have to wait until morning.” And yet what would change? They had a few dollars, no food, and now no transportation.

  Helena felt the sting of tears, but she couldn’t lose control. If she did, she wouldn’t stop crying. She had to be strong for Freya.

  Inhaling and reaching deep for the last vestiges of bravery, Helena caught the scent of a cheeseburger. Her stomach rolled and her mouth salivated. There was food less than two hundred feet away. She imagined a plate of delicious wings and french fries covered in ketchup. She could handle the hunger, but she couldn’t handle her daughter going hungry.

  “Come here.” Helena patted her lap and Freya crawled up, snuggling closer. Her tiny frame shivered from the remaining cold in her bones. Threading her fingers into her daughter’s damp hair, Helena hoped to help her fall asleep. Tomorrow would be a new day and she’d figure out something.

  The low rumbling of Freya’s stomach followed with, “Mommy, do we have any peanuts left?”

  “No, honey. We have water.” Grabbing the nearly empty bottle from the pouch on the side of the bag, she uncapped it. Freya swallowed the two sips and swiped the back of her hand across her mouth as if she’d gotten her fill.

  “Do we have any crackers?”

  “No, the crackers are gone too.” Helena’s heart slammed into her stomach and the tears that she’d forced down reared again. In a perfect world her daughter would never have to know what hunger felt like, but unfortunately this wasn’t a perfect world and they’d faced numerous struggles over the last few months. Mostly, Helena had been able to protect her daughter from the harsh reality that they were homeless. At first, using her savings, they’d stayed in hotels and Helena had made it seem like they were on a journey exploring the world. But after the money had started dwindling, they had to sleep in the car a few nights and the fun had dwindled too.

  “It’s okay, Mommy. I’ll dream of food.” She snuggled back against Helena who could no longer hold back the tears. Just as soon as she swiped them away more came.

  Then an idea came to her…

  “Freya, I have something I need to do.” She lifted her daughter off her lap and set her on the towel on the floor. “I need you to listen very closely. I’m going to step outside for just a few minutes. It’s important for you to stay here, don’t move, and don’t make a sound. Can you do that for me?”

  “Where are you going?” Helena couldn’t see her daughter’s expression in the dark, but she imagined her honey-colored eyes were wide in curiosity.

  She couldn’t make any promises of food, so Helena kept it vague. “I won’t be far, and I’ll be as fast as I can be.”

  “But what if you don’t come back.”

  “I’ll come back. No matter what, I’ll be back.” That she could promise. “Can you stay here like I’m asking?”

  “But what if something happens?” The tone of her voice filled with concern.

  Swallowing back a constrictive heaviness in her throat, Helena switched on the flashlight and grabbed a folded, yellowed piece of paper from the bag. “I’ll be back but remember our plan in case of an emergency. If we should ever get separated for any reason you shouldn’t talk to anyone but a police officer. Do you remember what the plan is?”

  “I give them this.” She tapped the paper.

  “Right. It’s Astrid’s number. You won’t need it tonight because I won’t be gone long.”

  “What if the storm comes back?”

  “It’s gone. I’ll be back in a jiffy.” She kissed the top of her daughter’s head and paused long enough to breathe in her scent, then tucked the paper in her hand. “Keep the flashlight on until I get back.”

  Helena left the shed, making sure the door was secure before she made her way toward the bar. At the entrance, she did a quick finger comb of her tangled, thick hair and smoothed her palms over her wet clothing. Once upon a time she would have never ventured out in public looking so gaunt. Times changed, and so did people. She and Freya were in survival mode.

  With a breath of courage, she opened the door and was instantly met with a pleasant warmth that came from the stone fireplace crackling and blazing from across the room. She had to resist the temptation of hurrying over and thawing her hands. The rich aroma of savory food drifted in the air coming from the kitchen behind a swinging door. Her mouth watered, yet she pushed her hunger away. She hadn’t come in here for herself.

  Hesitating near the door, she scanned the room, getting a feel of the layout—and working up bravado she wasn’t sure she had. A three-person band played on a small stage and a handful of dancers were out on the floor. Everyone seemed uninterested that a stranger had walked in.

  Surprisingly, the place looked modern with polished wood planked flooring and the atmosphere appeared fun and clean.

  Behind the L-shaped bar was a row of glass shelves lined with bottles bracketing a large, framed mirror with Pelican Hawke etched on the front. Above it was a neon light with the word Hawke flashing in green and red. On the three other walls were deer heads that gave the bar a backwoods vibe. Bearskin rugs were located at several spots making the space cozier and more welcoming. Most of the dozen or so tables were occupied and sitting at the bar was a scraggly looking man with a thick grey beard and receding hairline. The way he slumped over his beer bottle suggested he might have been there for a while.

  She almost jumped out of her skin when she heard, “Is it still pouring out?” The bartender was speaking to Helena.

  Planting a smile on her face, she courageously met the gaze of the woman with vibrantly dyed hair standing behind the bar drying a glass. She looked to be about Helena’s age, with one side of her head shaved and tattoos covering her skin. Her black T-shirt with cut off sleeves advertised the band AC/DC.

  Helena felt a bit awkward dressed as she was as she took the short distance between the door and the bartender who seemed more curious by the second. Helena was fully aware that her wet shoes sloshed and squeaked loudly, bringing the attention of a couple sitting nearby. She felt guilty that she was dripping water on the shiny floor. “It’s let up some. Unfortunately, I got caught in it.”

  “Can I get you anything to warm up? Coffee? Whiskey? A towel?”


  “No, thank you, but directions to your restroom would help.”

  “Sure. Right in the back. Can’t miss the flashing blue sign.”

  “Thank you.” Not making eye contact with anyone, although she felt like everyone had their eyes glued on her now, Helena made her way into the back. Could they see her discomfort? Her plans of mischief? By the time she reached the bathroom, she felt like she might be sick.

  Taking off her jacket, she hung it on a hook on the back of the door to hopefully dry a bit. Warming herself by rubbing her hands up and down her arms that were damp, her bottom lip quivered.

  Leaning over the sink, she focused on breathing air in and out, blinking at her tired reflection in the mirror. She was too young to be so old. Would anyone believe that she’d just had her thirtieth birthday? The woman she saw staring back at her made her cringe. Her once long, shiny hair had lost its luster. Her glowing skin was ruddy and all her nice clothes had been left behind...

  The soft material of her blouse had now turned yellow and had a hole in the sleeve. Her jeans were frayed and loose, and after losing so much weight she used a shoestring to keep them held up. Truthfully, she’d grown tired. How much longer could she keep this up? Yet, knowing the alternative kept her going in pursuit of some form of happiness for her daughter.

  When she’d left California, she’d had no clue where she and Freya would go, where they’d end up, but they couldn’t have stayed where they were. They’d stopped several places, Helena working waitress jobs that paid her under the table. When she felt it was too dangerous to stay any longer, she and Freya would leave in the middle of the night, except this last time when they’d ran in the middle of the day.

  Helena feared they’d reached a ceiling. How much longer could they run? Her daughter needed a stable home, food in her belly, and a bed to lay her head on at night.

  The sadness and uncertainty of the situation filled her with self-doubt. Bridges had been burned to the ground and going back now would come at a price.

  Each step forward she took brought her closer to a new life, one without restraints, if they could find a safe place.

  Her mother, before she passed away, had always told Helena that happiness came before everything else.