The Judge

“I take it that you and your mother aren’t close,” he said quietly.

She glanced over and saw sincere compassion in his eyes, and tears suddenly sprang into her own. Damn. She never cried. And certainly not over Amanda. Long ago she’d learned that the only thing crying accomplished was to make her face blotchy. That was another thing about Frank. He seemed to be able to fly under the radar of her emotional control.

She took a deep breath. “Not really. I never seemed to fit in with her plans.”

“That’s tough on kids.”

“I survived. Mary Beth tells me that you have twins.”

“I do. Janey and Jimmy. They’re five.”

She couldn’t think of anything else to say. She knew zilch about children. And, she reminded herself, she really didn’t want to encourage any further intimacy. She’d said too much already. Carrie clamped her teeth together and tried not to squirm.

The silence dragged on for an eternity.

Finally Frank said, “You mentioned doing other kinds of research besides genealogy.”

“Yes.”

“What kinds?”

Choosing her words carefully, she said, “Titles, missing heirs, that sort of thing.” Which was technically true.

“Ah. Missing heirs. Sounds intriguing. Found any folks in Naconiche County who have inherited a bundle from a long-lost relative?”

She laughed. “Not yet.”

“I think everybody has had the dream that some long-lost relative rolling in dough will kick the bucket and leave a fortune to them.”

“Do you have any long-lost relatives?”

“Only my mother’s great-uncle Heck Tatum. He went to California and was never heard from again.”

“When was this?” Carrie asked.

“I’m not exactly sure. Sometime before 1920, I believe.”

“You never know. He may have struck it rich in real estate.”

Frank chuckled. “I doubt it. From what my mother tells me about Uncle Heck, it’s more likely that he wound up in jail than in the money. He was the black sheep of his family. I think he left here just one step ahead of the sheriff.”

When they arrived at the tearoom, Carrie meant to duck out and go to her room for a few minutes, but she was so intrigued by the tale of Frank’s errant relative that she forgot her plan and walked with him to the door.

“What did he do?” she asked.

“You mean, to get the sheriff after him? As I recall the story, I believe that Uncle Heck made his living cooking moonshine and stealing cows. Folks around here don’t cotton to cattle rustling. Back then it was sometimes a hanging offense.”

“Hanging?”

“Yep.”

A few people were waiting for tables, but Frank waved to someone. “There are Dad and J.J. Come on, we’ll join them.”

“Oh, I don’t want to horn in when you’re having lunch with your family.”

“You wouldn’t be horning in. Come on.”

He steered her to the table for four.

J.J. and the older man stood as they approached, and Frank introduced Carrie to his father. Wes Outlaw was tall like his sons and she could see the family resemblance except that his dark hair was gray, his fingers were knobby and his waist had thickened a bit. He had the same great smile, and it flashed across his weathered face when he told her to call him Wes.

“I was just telling Carrie about Mama’s great-uncle Heck.”

“Ah, the cattle rustler,” Wes said.

“And the moonshiner,” Carrie added.

Wes grinned. “Nobody around here was bothered much by the moonshining—fact is, most folks bought a jug from him now and then, I understand. But stealing cows is serious business.”

All three of the Outlaws were raconteurs, and they kept her entertained during lunch with funny stories about some of the lawless characters in the county’s history. They seemed to enjoy topping one another’s yarns.

As they lingered over coffee and dessert, Carrie laughed as J.J. told in great detail about the night that a young man and his friends had a few too many beers and put a pig in the mayor’s Cadillac. “That pig made a big mess,” J.J. said.

“It didn’t,” Carrie said, laughing.

J.J. grinned. “It did. All over everywhere.”

“I had a hard time,” Frank said, “keeping a straight face when those kids were brought before me.”

“What did you do to them?”

“Gave them a stern lecture and made them put in a lot of hours of community service.”

Carrie glanced at her watch, then looked around the room. The place was almost deserted. “Sorry, but I have to go.” She reached for her wallet.

“Today’s on me,” Frank said.

“I’ll get the next one.” Why had she said that? What happened to the resolution that she wasn’t going to spend any more time with Frank Outlaw? She mentally shrugged. What was the harm? She enjoyed his company; she liked his family. No big deal. In a few weeks she’d be in West Texas or Oklahoma on her next project. She was going to take a page from Amanda’s book and live for the moment.

She said her goodbyes and went to her room to work.

“MIND IF I CATCH a ride back to the courthouse with one of you?” Frank asked over a second cup of coffee.

“Be glad to drop you off,” his father said. “Say, I like your young woman. Seems to have a head on her shoulders.”

“She’s not my young woman,” Frank told him. “She’s just someone in town for a few days to do some research.”

“What kind of research?”