Second Chance in Dry Creek

And, we all have You, Father, she prayed. She hadn’t had the assurance of God’s love when she had gone to prison. And it would have made a huge difference.

She sat back then, trying to picture Calen as a father. Or even a husband, for that matter. She finally gave up and smiled. The stories Buck used to tell of him and Calen in high school did not match up with the man she’d seen tonight.

“Do you still have that trophy Buck gave you?” Gracie asked after a few minutes.

Calen grunted and turned around again. “That thing will be at the bottom of my closet until the day I die. Unless I sell it for junk metal first. Only Buck would give me a brass trophy that said Number One Romeo of Custer Country.”

The man’s voice sounded better, at least. Gracie was glad they did have some good memories they could share.

“He found that trophy in some pawnshop,” Calen continued. “But he had the words re-done. I think he gave up one of his good knives in trade for it. Just to give me a hard time—calling me Romeo.”

“Well, you always were popular with the girls,” Gracie teased him softly.

“Not with the one that mattered,” he shot back too quickly to have thought about it.

She didn’t know what to say to that. She ran through the names of the girls in their class, trying to figure out which one he’d been sweet on. She was surprised Buck hadn’t told her. Even though everyone knew Buck was her boyfriend, he didn’t like her being around other people and she missed out on most of the gossip. For all of Calen’s flirting, she couldn’t remember ever hearing that he had been serious about anyone.

By the time she had decided to ask him who he meant, he’d already turned around and the moment was gone. Then a semitruck passed and made too much noise for talking. She watched the red taillights for a while. There was seldom much traffic on the freeway going through this part of the state, and it was particularly deserted in the middle of the night.

Gracie settled back against the seat. She hadn’t thought about those old high school days for years. The only time she had seen Calen during her marriage was that one night when he’d brought Buck home after her husband had passed out from drinking too much in some bar. She’d been so embarrassed; she’d told Calen more than she should have about her life with Buck. She couldn’t bring herself to admit that her husband hit her regularly, but she knew the ranch foreman had sensed her unhappiness. She’d felt close to him that night. That’s when he’d given her the number for his private phone at the Elkton bunkhouse.

Funny how she’d thought of that phone number so often back then that she’d memorized it. She’d almost dialed it a time or two when Buck had gotten particularly out of hand, but she never did. She was saving it as a last resort.

It wasn’t long before Gracie saw the outlines of buildings that, even in the dark, marked the outskirts of Miles City. The hospital was at the main exit. She could tell from the green numbers on the dash of the car that it was a little after two o’clock in the morning. She hated to wake up Tessie, but they needed to be inside asking about the child’s mother as soon as possible.

“They have coffee in the vending machines inside,” Calen said as the sheriff pulled into the parking lot. Light streamed out of the windows of the hospital. “And I have lots of dollar bills.”

Gracie nodded. The rest of the night promised to be long.

* * *

The sheriff stepped out of the car the minute it stopped and headed toward the hospital.

Soon after that, Calen closed his door, wondering if he should offer to carry Tessie. He didn’t want to startle his granddaughter.

“I should have a stroller.” He opened the door for Gracie so she could bring the sleeping child out of the backseat with her. “She’s too heavy for—”

“For someone my age,” Gracie said with a grimace as she swung her legs out of the car and then stood up, settling Tessie against her shoulder.

“She’s too heavy for anyone,” Calen corrected, as he moved close enough to grab Gracie if she needed help.

By that time, the sheriff was almost to the hospital.

The lawman stopped and turned. “I’ll send word when I’ve had a chance to see Renee.”

Then he stepped up to the entrance door.

“You can go with him if you want,” Gracie offered as she looked over at Calen. “I know you’re worried.”

They were still yards from the hospital and going slow.

He shook his head. “I can’t leave you alone to carry Tessie.”

Calen wasn’t used to someone else taking on his responsibility, even temporarily. Especially when the wind had started to blow and a few drops of cold rain had already landed on his face. Then he saw, under an overhang, just what he needed—a hospital wheelchair.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, as he ran over there and rolled the chair back to where Gracie stood.

“Next best thing to a stroller,” Calen said. “Tessie will be fine in one of these.”

Gracie looked relieved when Tessie was settled in the chair.

“I can push it,” he said then. The girl was still half-asleep, but she didn’t seem to care who was behind her as long as Gracie walked along beside her and held her hand. They moved much faster with the chair.

Calen blinked as they crossed through the doorway into the main waiting room of the hospital. After all the darkness of the night, the light seemed particularly bright, so they stood inside for a moment and allowed their eyes to adjust.

“You must be the father,” a young woman called to Calen from the check-in desk, so he pushed the wheelchair closer.

“For Renee Hampton?” the receptionist added.

He didn’t know any Hamptons, but the woman set a clipboard down on the counter in front of him.

“The paramedics said you’d be coming,” she added.

“Yes.” Calen felt proud. He didn’t care what last name his daughter gave. He hadn’t been labeled a father often in his life, and he liked the feeling.

“They said you wouldn’t know much, but do your best with the forms.” The woman smiled as she pointed.

Calen picked up the clipboard. “Thanks.”

He noticed then that the woman’s smile tightened. She’d finally noticed Gracie standing beside him. “You’re Mrs. Stone, aren’t you?”

The receptionist’s voice was barely polite. It had an avid tone to it, though, as if she expected something awful to happen and was anticipating it.

Gracie didn’t respond in kind. She nodded and smiled quite pleasantly. “I was hoping you can tell us how Renee is doing.”

“I’m afraid that would be a violation of our policy,” the receptionist said, more shortly than was necessary, in Calen’s opinion.

“Did Sheriff Wall go in?” Calen asked, thinking maybe that was the reason for the sudden coldness.

The receptionist nodded. Her eyes warmed as she looked at him. “But he didn’t say why.”

“Good,” Gracie muttered at his side. “Shows some sense.”

The receptionist did not even look at Gracie.

Calen thought the awkwardness might be in his own mind until the young woman leaned forward, speaking to the side as though to shut Gracie out. “One of the paramedics told me Renee had been shot. And not in a hunting accident, if you know what I mean.”

“That’s nothing but speculation,” Gracie responded sharply, and then stepped closer to the counter as though forcing the young woman to deal with her.