Riding Shotgun. Joanna Wayne
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was fetching a heavy load of firewood. Couldn’t see where I was walking and stepped in a hole.”
The stranger kneeled beside Esther and lightly touched the spot that radiated pain. “Looks like you sprained your ankle. Is that where it hurts?”
“It is. Smarts right bad,” Esther said.
“I’m sure. How long have you been out here?”
“Seems like hours but probably only twenty minutes or so.”
“We need to get you inside and get some ice on the ankle to slow down the swelling.”
“I’m for that.” Esther studied the woman, still puzzled by her just showing up out of nowhere. “I’m mighty glad to see you, but who are you and where did you come from? I didn’t hear a car drive up.”
“I was on the dirt road that borders your ranch and I heard your calls for help.”
“That old logging road. Nobody uses that anymore except teenagers riding those racket-making ATVs or else looking for a place to make out. What were you doing there?”
“I was just passing through the area and got too sleepy to keep going. I got out of the car before the road got too bad and took a walk to get the kinks out of my neck and shoulders.”
“And you heard me from the logging road? That’s ’bout nigh a miracle.”
“I barely heard you. At first I thought it was an animal in distress. Luckily, I decided to check it out.”
“Luckier for me, and that’s a fact. I s’pect those prayers I was saying did some good.”
“Couldn’t have hurt.”
“What’s your name?” Esther asked.
“Grace...” She bit her bottom lip as if she’d just uttered a curse word she wished she could take back. She hesitated. “Grace Addison.”
“That fits,” Esther said. “I needed me some grace today and you showed up.”
“Timing is everything,” Grace agreed.
“I’m Esther. Esther Kavanaugh. Been living here on the Double K Ranch for years and don’t remember ever just tripping, falling and not being able to get up.”
“It can happen to anyone. Let’s get you inside, and then we can chat.”
“I don’t know how a little thing like you is gonna help me inside. I’m twice your size.”
“That’s a major exaggeration, but an additional person for support might make it less painful for you. Were you calling for your husband? If he’s around, perhaps I can find him.”
Esther shook her head. “Charlie’s dead. If he was alive, I wouldn’t have been out here in the first place. He took care of me and I took care of him. That’s how it always was.”
“I’m sorry.”
Esther struggled to steady the grief that had snuck into her voice. “Not your fault. It’s somebody’s, just not yours.”
“Who were you calling for?” Grace asked.
“My hired help, but if he were still at the ranch, he’d have heard me yelling before now.”
“Then looks like you’ll have to trust me to get you inside. Believe me, I’m stronger than I look. But if it hurts too much even with my help, I’ll call 9-1-1.”
“Don’t want no part of that. All those medical people know to do with people my age is take us to the hospital. Then they want to charge us for nothing.”
“Then lean against me and try to keep your weight off the right foot while I help you up.” Grace took Esther’s arm and helped her to a standing position. “Nice and easy. Let me know if the pain seems unbearable.”
Esther did as she was told. Thankfully, her Good Samaritan had told the truth. She was a lot stronger than she looked. Esther hobbled along with Grace’s help.
“We need to take the steps slowly,” Grace said as they reached the back door to the house. “Hold on to the railing with your free hand to help you stay balanced.”
Following Grace’s advice, Esther took the three back steps with a lot less pain than she’d feared. Nothing seemed quite as scary since Grace had appeared. Of course, once they were inside, Grace would be on her way and Esther would be alone again.
Always alone without Charlie. Someday someone would pay for that. Esther wouldn’t rest until justice was done.
But right now she was just grateful for Grace.
By all rights, Grace should be a nervous wreck at this point. She’d made a major faux pas in the backyard. She hadn’t given anyone her real last name in the six years she’d been on the run. Thankfully, she’d caught herself in time to use the last name that was on her latest fake ID.
It was the unexpected nature of the encounter with Esther. Normally, she planned her life carefully, taking no chances with strangers.
In spite of that, Grace felt at ease. Esther was so sweet and unassuming, her house so cozy, it was impossible not to feel at home with her.
Esther was resting at least semicomfortably now, reclined on the sofa in the loose-fitting cotton robe Grace had helped her change into. Her leg was propped on multiple pillows, her ankle iced and a clean compression wrap from Esther’s first aid kit in place.
“Are you a nurse?” Esther asked.
“No, but I’ve had experience with sprained ankles, usually my own. But if this is not a lot better by morning, you should see a doctor and have it x-rayed.”
“It can’t help but be better the way you’re pampering me.”
“I’m just doing what anyone would do.” Grace tucked an available afghan around Esther’s legs. “Do you have some pain relievers in the house?”
“I have some ibuprofen I use when the arthritis starts acting up.”
“It wouldn’t hurt to take that. Where would I find it?”
“In the kitchen cabinet next to the sink and above the counter.”
“I’ll get it,” Grace offered. “Would you like anything else, perhaps a cup of tea?”
“Nothing yet, but you help yourself to anything you see in there that you want. There’s homemade chocolate chip cookies in the cookie jar and sweet tea in the refrigerator.”
“Thanks, but I had a late lunch.” Chips and a soft drink, if you could call that lunch.
Alone in the kitchen, Grace took a few seconds to absorb her surroundings. The kitchen, like the rest of the house, had a cozy, lived-in feel. A red teakettle sat on the back burner of a freestanding gas range. An electric coffeepot was on the counter next to a chicken-shaped sugar bowl and a basket of unshelled pecans.
A breakfast nook with a view of a pumpkin patch held a round oak table and four captain’s chairs topped with blue-and-white-checked cushions.
A sky blue fruit bowl filled with apples, oranges and bananas rested in the middle of the table. The fruit was too tempting to resist. Since Esther had offered, Grace washed her hands at the kitchen sink and helped herself to a banana.
Everything was much as Grace had imagined it when she’d first seen the house from the logging road except that there were no children, no husband, no food simmering on the range. Yet Grace was almost certain the house had once known laughter and great love.
And now she was fantasizing, relying on her own needs to dictate the unknown.
She took a