A Baby for Christmas Read online

  “She’s marrying an accountant and he has a good job in Austin. I hope they start having babies soon. My wife and I can’t wait for a grandchild.”

  “Congratulations, Bob. You deserve a house full of grandkids.”

  The biker couple got up and walked toward the door. The blonde looked back and smiled at Elias.

  “That could get you killed,” Bob remarked.

  “Ah, I can take him.”

  “In your dreams.”

  The door opened again and Wyatt Carson, the sheriff, walked in. Wyatt came straight to Elias. “Thought I might find you here.”

  It wasn’t a good thing when the sheriff came looking for you. “What’s up?”

  “I have a stack of parking tickets on my desk that need to be paid as soon as possible.”

  “Wyatt.” Elias sighed. “You’re not going to bring that up again.”

  The sheriff tipped back his hat. “It’s against the law to park in the fire zone at the courthouse. Yet you continue to do so despite my warnings and Stuart’s.”

  “When was the last time you had a fire at the courthouse?”

  “None that I can recall.”

  “See? I’m not endangering anyone. The auto-parts store is right across the street and there’s never any parking. I park to the side and run to the store. It takes ten minutes, tops. But Stuart always manages to ticket my truck. Next time I see him I’m gonna put a knot on his head.”

  “Then I’d have to arrest you.”

  “Come on, Wyatt, what do you want from me?”

  “I want you to pay the tickets, but I know you’re stubborn and you’re not going to do that. So I’ve got a better solution.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “I need someone to do undercover work.”

  Elias laughed out loud and slapped the bar with his hand. “I’m not a cop and I don’t want to be one. That’s your job.”

  “Okay, Elias, I’m going to give you a choice. Jail or undercover work. Teenage boys are stealing beer around Horseshoe. They’ve hit the grocery store, the convenience store and this place.”

  Elias looked at Bob. “You didn’t mention that.”

  Bob shrugged. “Wyatt said not to tell anyone because he wants to catch ’em.”

  “Have you checked out the Kuntz boys, Wyatt?” If anything was stolen in Horseshoe, Freddie, his brother Scooter and cousin Leonard were always at the top of the list. They lived in a run-down trailer on the outskirts of town. Their mother worked nights in a bar and the boys were left to fend for themselves. Elias had given them rides. Sometimes late at night.

  “It’s not them. The school called CPS and they’re checking into their home situation. But the mother always pulls a rabbit out of her hat at the last minute. The sister has now moved in and she’s supposed to be there for the boys at night. CPS has backed off, but I’m keeping a close eye on the boys. I was talking to them when I got the call about the convenience store.”

  Elias sighed. “I’m almost afraid to ask, but what do you want me to do?”

  “Keep an eye out while you’re in here.”

  “Come on, Wyatt, I’m not ratting out kids.”

  “They’re stealing. And that’s against the law and I’ve sworn to uphold the law.”

  “You’re a stickler for right, aren’t you?”

  Wyatt nodded. “Yes, I am. What’s your answer? Jail or undercover work?”

  Elias knew he didn’t have much choice, but he would hold out to the last minute. “Exactly what do you want me to do?”

  “I want you to watch the door. One of the boys is coming through the front and slipping past the bar to the back. He then opens the back door and lets the other two in and they take the beer and run. You have to stay sober and alert me if you see someone going into the back room. That’s it. I’ll take it from there. All you have to do is call if you see someone.”

  “I don’t know.” He hated to turn on kids. He’d once been a wild teenager and beer had always been a temptation.

  “Then I’ll have to arrest you. You can sit out your time and do community service. I believe the senior citizen center needs mopping and cleaning. That would be a good job for you.”

  “Wyatt, it’s hay season on the ranch and—”

  “I’ll sweeten the deal. When you have to go to the auto-parts store, you can park in the sheriff’s area.” He held up a finger. “But just ten minutes, and I’ll alert Stuart not to ticket you.”

  Now there was a deal. He held out his hand. “Deal.”

  Wyatt shook his hand. “Stay alert tonight and tomorrow. It’s usually Saturday night when they hit. Thanks.”

  “Yeah, right.” Elias grimaced.

  “Look at it this way,” Bob said. “You’ll be sitting down here instead of in a jail cell.”

  Elias spent the evening watching the door and it was as much fun as watching grass grow. The night was slow and nothing was happening so at 10:30 p.m. he went home. He had a full day tomorrow and he needed some sleep. Getting into his truck, he felt a pang of...loneliness. It couldn’t be. He was never lonely, but sometimes lonely crept into his soul without warning.

  AT SIX O’CLOCK the next evening, Elias came through the back door dirty and tired, hay stinging him around his collar and down the back of his shirt. He needed a shower and a beer. Grabbing one out of the refrigerator, he took a moment to pop the top.

  “Elias?” Grandpa called.

  He lived with his grandpa and was the official caretaker of the old man who aggravated him more than anyone. Quincy was Grandpa’s favorite and he’d usually done the caregiving until he got married. After that, somehow the responsibility for Grandpa fell on Elias’s shoulders. He wasn’t the nurturing kind, but he and Grandpa managed to get along.

  He walked into the living room. Grandpa sat in his chair with his dog, Mutt, on his lap. Nearing eighty, Grandpa had snow-white hair and a booming voice known to stop his grandsons in their tracks.

  “What’s up?”

  Grandpa handed him the remote control. “Get the Western channel. I can’t find it.”

  Elias took a deep breath. “I wrote it down—” he pointed to the pad on the end table by Grandpa “—right there.”

  “Ah, if you don’t want to help me then don’t.” Grandpa tended to be grouchy at times and he liked being pampered.

  Elias took the control and flipped it to the Western channel. “Satisfied?”

  “Thank you.”

  Elias shook his head. One little thing made his grandpa happy. He headed for the bathroom. “Are you going to Quincy’s for supper?” he asked over his shoulder. Quincy still helped with Grandpa, as did his other brothers.

  “Yes, I’m waiting on him. He’s gonna pick me up so I don’t have to drive in the dark.”

  Quincy lived across the pasture and it wasn’t that far from Grandpa’s house. Grandpa just liked the attention and that was fine. He had to get to Rowdy’s.

  * * *

  THIRTY MINUTES LATER, he was sitting at a table, watching the door on a Saturday night. It was like blowing up balloons, boring as hell. He looked around at the rustic beer joint where he spent a lot of his time. He never really noticed his surroundings. The joint had been in Horseshoe forever and had been run by several people. Bob had owned it for the past fifteen years. The worn hardwood floors and the jukebox were probably as old as Elias. The songs hadn’t changed in years. Neon beer signs decorated the back of the bar. Red booths lined one wall and had gray duct tape to cover the holes. Above the booths were posters of country music stars who had stopped by. In the back room, there was a pool table. A lot of guys hung out in there.

  The place was filling up fast. Dee and Tracy, the waitresses, were working hard to keep up with the beer orders. Someone slipped a quarter in the jukebo
x and George Strait’s “A Fire I Can’t Put Out” came on. Two couples got up and started dancing. It was Saturday night at Rowdy’s.

  Dee stopped by his table. “What are you doing over here by yourself?”

  He held up his beer. “Drinking.”

  “Want another?”

  “Nah, I’m good.” He hadn’t drunk any of the beer. He wanted to be alert like Wyatt had said. The trouble was Wyatt could never tell if Elias was drunk or not. Elias could hold his beer. Everyone knew that. But tonight, for once, he was following the rules. He should write that down on a calendar somewhere.

  Couples were still coming in the door and there wasn’t much room for anybody else. Suddenly he saw something out of the corner of his eye. Two couples were standing at the door and there seemed to be someone behind them. Then the figure was gone. Elias got up and went through the swinging half-door of the bar to the back room. Peering around the corner, he saw a guy open the back door. This was it.

  He pulled out his phone and called Wyatt. “They’re here.”

  “Don’t do anything, Elias. I’m on my way.”

  Elias tucked his phone back into his pocket, walked out the front door and made his way around to the back. He crouched in the bushes and watched as three figures carried beer through the wooded area to a vehicle. Elias crept closer. The kids were laughing as they stored the beer in the back of an SUV.

  “I slipped in and out and that old coot never saw me,” one bragged.

  Another one said, “Now we can par-ty.”

  Wyatt had better hurry or the kids were going to be gone. Just then headlights flashed from the right and from the left. Sirens blared as they pulled up to the SUV. Wyatt’s patrol car was in the back and Stuart’s in the front. The car revved up and the kid tried to go around Stuart’s car, but Stuart pulled his car over and blocked him.

  Wyatt got out of his car with a megaphone. “Turn off the engine. Turn off the engine. Now!”

  In response, the kid revved it up again and tried to go around Stuart’s car without any luck.

  “Get out of the car!” Wyatt shouted. “If you don’t get out, I’m going to shoot out the tires. You have thirty seconds.”

  No response.

  Wyatt pulled his gun from his holster. The driver’s door of the SUV slowly opened and a kid crawled out with a hoodie over his head. Two other kids crawled out from the other side.

  “Line up against the car,” Wyatt ordered, still holding the gun in his hand. “Frisk them,” he said to Stuart.

  Stuart did as he was told. “No weapons.”

  Wyatt shoved his gun into his holster and pulled a flashlight from his car. He shined the light in the first boy’s face. “Brandon Polansky, your parents are going to be proud of you.”

  The thing about a small town was everyone knew everyone, and Wyatt knew the people better than most.

  Wyatt stepped over to the second boy. “Billy Tom Wentz, this is going to be a shock to your parents and your grandfather.”

  Billy Tom hung his head.

  Before Wyatt could reach the third boy, he leaped over the hood of the car and bolted for the woods. Elias reached out with one arm and snagged him, wrestling him to the ground. The kid came up fighting with both arms. He was skinny and tall, but he didn’t have much strength. Elias grabbed him by the front of his hoodie and squeezed. The boy continued to beat at Elias with his fist.

  “Keep it up and I’ll choke the life out of you. Got it?” His hand tightened even more and the boy gasped for breath and stopped struggling.

  Wyatt ran up to them, breathing heavily. “You got him?”

  “Yeah. You’re a little out of breath there, Wyatt.”

  Wyatt slipped handcuffs on the boy, ignoring Elias, and led him back to the group without another word being said. In the darkness, it was hard to see expressions but Elias knew Wyatt was sending him one of his custom-made cold stares.

  Elias trailed behind Wyatt and the kid, eager to see how this turned out. Stuart had handcuffs on the other two boys still standing against the car. Wyatt led the kid back to his spot.

  Looking at the boy closely, Wyatt said, “I don’t believe I know you. Are you new in town?”

  “None of your business,” the boy spat.

  Wyatt tapped his badge with the flashlight. “You see that? That means I’m the sheriff of this county and when you rob places and run from the law, it becomes my business. What’s your name?”

  “Get out of my face.”

  Elias had had enough of the kid’s mouth. He needed an attitude adjustment. Before he could stop himself, he stepped in front of Wyatt and faced the kid. “You need to learn some manners and respect and if you don’t, I’m going to teach them to you. When the sheriff asks you a question you say, ‘yes, sir’ or ‘no, sir,’ and when he asks you a direct question you answer it. Got it?”

  A palpable heat emanated from the boy. And anger.

  “You already know that I’m stronger than you, so give it up, kid. It’s time to face the music.”

  The boy’s stubborn expression reminded Elias of someone, but he couldn’t place it. Invisible daggers from Wyatt pierced his back, so he stepped aside.

  “What’s your name?” Wyatt asked again.

  The boy raised his head and stared at Elias. “My name is...Chase...McCray.”

  “I know all the McCray boys and you’re not one of them,” Wyatt pointed out.

  “I’m not from here nor do I want to be a part of the McCrays. My mom and I moved here two weeks ago.”

  “Who’s your mother?”

  “Maribel McCray.”

  That got Elias’s attention. This was the kid she’d been looking for—a wild teenager out of control.

  “Read them their rights and take them to the jail!” Wyatt shouted to Stuart.

  “It was all my idea,” Chase said. “Don’t punish them. It’s all on me.”

  Wyatt placed his hands on his hips. “A few minutes ago you were willing to run away, leaving your friends holding the bag. Now you’re trying to protect them?”

  The kid glanced at Elias again and replied, “Yes...sir.”

  “Okay, we’re going to the jail and we’ll discuss this with your parents.”

  The boys had nothing to say.

  “Call Bubba to tow this car,” Wyatt called after Stuart.

  “I’m on it.”

  Wyatt pulled off his hat and scratched his head, staring at Elias. “I’m trying to figure out what you’re doing here, but then I know you and sometimes I wonder if you’re ever going to grow up. I don’t manhandle kids, Elias, and that was totally out of line.”

  The ruts on Wyatt’s forehead were deep enough to hold molasses. But Wyatt’s ire didn’t faze Elias. He leaned against the patrol car. “Well, my daddy always taught me when you start a job, you finish it. And if I hadn’t been here, that kid would be halfway to Temple by now.”

  “I would have caught him, Elias.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  Wyatt opened the back of the SUV. “Help me put this beer in the back of my car. Their parents will want to see the evidence.”

  “You’re good at giving orders.”

  “Comes with the job.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  They stored the beer in Wyatt’s back seat. “Do you know Maribel McCray?”

  “Yeah. I went to high school with her. She was always snotty when I tried to talk to her.”

  Wyatt closed the back of the SUV. “How did you expect her to be? The Rebel/McCray feud was strong back then.”

  “True. She left town without even graduating. I guess she’s finally come home.”

  “Do you know where she’s living?”

  “Now, Wyatt, the less I know about the McCrays, the better off I am.”
/>
  Wyatt opened the driver’s door of his car. “It’s been peaceful lately with the McCrays marrying into the Rebel family. But I have a feeling this kid is going to stir it all up again.”

  Elias tapped Wyatt’s badge with his finger. “You’re the sheriff. You can handle it.” With a smile, Elias walked through the woods to Rowdy’s. He went inside and locked the back door. Bob came charging in, wiping his hands on his apron.

  “Did Wyatt catch ’em?”

  “Yes, he did. They’re on their way to jail.”

  “Is it anybody I know?”

  Elias told him about the boys.

  Bob shook his hand. “What were they thinking?”

  “The new kid in town is a bad influence.”

  “Maribel’s boy?”

  “Yeah. Do you still have her phone number?”

  Bob hurried into the bar area and came back with the napkin. Elias slipped it into his pocket, and headed for the jail.

  This time Maribel wasn’t going to ignore him.

  Copyright © 2017 by Linda Warren

  ISBN-13: 9781488013416

  A Baby for Christmas

  Copyright © 2017 by Marie Rydzynski-Ferrarella

  All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, M3B 3K9 Canada.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.