idea, he told himself, but figured he could win a tussle with the woman if necessary. “You give me the rifle and I'll leave the money.”
She nodded.
Bryan tucked the bills as far under the rear tire as he could.
The woman heaved out like a walrus. She brought the key and worked herself between Bryan and the money before unlocking the trunk. “All right, get it out,” she said.
“You’re kidding. Hand it to me.”
She scowled, but did like he said and also handed over a box of cartridges. “Don't shoot yourself with it.” She reached for the money.
He jammed his foot against it and the tire. “You don't get the money until I have a paper saying you sold me the rifle.”
Her massive chest vibrated outrage. “I don't have a stupid receipt book!”
Keeping his foot tight against the money and tire, Bryan retrieved his checkbook from his hip pocket and tore out a deposit slip. “Write on the back.” He handed her a pen from his shirt pocket.
She slammed the trunk closed and laid the slip on it. She pressed the paper smooth and wrote. I sold this Kar 98 Carbine to . She raised her eyes. “Who the hell are you?”
“ It says Bryan Winslow on the other side.”
She turned it over, squinted, then wrote his name, dated it and signed, Elsa Hatton .
Bryan removed his foot from the money.
Elsa snatched the bills, stuffed them down her cleavage and scrambled into the car with amazing agility for someone who struggled to get out.
“ You treat your mother like this?” she asked, holding the door open.
“ Every time she tries to steal my money.”
Elsa slammed the door, gunned the accelerator, and dropped the gearshift into drive. She wiggled her fingers goodbye and drove away.
Bryan turned to TJ, who’d watched from the shade. “You coming?”
TJ moseyed over and threw his pack in the back seat. “Old broad was kinda hard on ya, wasn’t she?” He opened the passenger door. “Thought she’d win.”
Bryan exhaled loudly. Life should be easier without his ex, but if this was easy, he just might shoot himself. He placed the Mauser on the rear seat beside TJ’s bag.
Chapter 6
Through the fog of a contented drowse, Teagan became aware. Her eyes opened enough to see a plump, handsome nurse framed in the light of the doorway. Florene Johnson carried a baby wrapped tightly in a receiving blanket. “This is Charles O’Riley . Any relation to you?” She pushed a button to raise the bed into a sitting position and laid Charlie into Teagan’s outstretched arms.
Teagan drew him close, breathing in the precious scents of baby oil and newness. His wrinkled, slippery birth image was forever marked in her memory. This first picture of him swaddled in a soft blanket and a knit cap would last as long.
Florene busied herself by straightening the bedside table. Gentle pleasure encompassed her wholesome face.
“ You’re looking mighty pleased,” Teagan said. “Doretta had her baby.”
A grin spread. “Ten pounds of lusty boy.”
Teagan knew that particular expression. “I can’t get over how much Doretta looks like you.”
“ She’s my baby girl, but the mischief dancing in those eyes belongs to her daddy.” Florene placed her right hand on her hip. “Does my new grandbaby’s daddy have sparkin’ eyes?”
“ You fox. Doretta hasn’t told me either.”
Florene deflated like a fresh hospital sheet settling on a bed. “Well, I tried. Are you ready to feed this hungry boy?”
Suckling on his fist, he ignored Teagan as she tried to guide him to her breast. He needed to eat and that was that.
“ It’s easy, girl. Just hold his mouth close to your nipple and he’ll do the rest.”
Teagan couldn’t believe the sensation. Smarting tugs, and then in the midst of the hurtful pulling, a different kind of maternal love grew and deepened with each drawing of her nourishment. She gladly bore the
She nodded.
Bryan tucked the bills as far under the rear tire as he could.
The woman heaved out like a walrus. She brought the key and worked herself between Bryan and the money before unlocking the trunk. “All right, get it out,” she said.
“You’re kidding. Hand it to me.”
She scowled, but did like he said and also handed over a box of cartridges. “Don't shoot yourself with it.” She reached for the money.
He jammed his foot against it and the tire. “You don't get the money until I have a paper saying you sold me the rifle.”
Her massive chest vibrated outrage. “I don't have a stupid receipt book!”
Keeping his foot tight against the money and tire, Bryan retrieved his checkbook from his hip pocket and tore out a deposit slip. “Write on the back.” He handed her a pen from his shirt pocket.
She slammed the trunk closed and laid the slip on it. She pressed the paper smooth and wrote. I sold this Kar 98 Carbine to . She raised her eyes. “Who the hell are you?”
“ It says Bryan Winslow on the other side.”
She turned it over, squinted, then wrote his name, dated it and signed, Elsa Hatton .
Bryan removed his foot from the money.
Elsa snatched the bills, stuffed them down her cleavage and scrambled into the car with amazing agility for someone who struggled to get out.
“ You treat your mother like this?” she asked, holding the door open.
“ Every time she tries to steal my money.”
Elsa slammed the door, gunned the accelerator, and dropped the gearshift into drive. She wiggled her fingers goodbye and drove away.
Bryan turned to TJ, who’d watched from the shade. “You coming?”
TJ moseyed over and threw his pack in the back seat. “Old broad was kinda hard on ya, wasn’t she?” He opened the passenger door. “Thought she’d win.”
Bryan exhaled loudly. Life should be easier without his ex, but if this was easy, he just might shoot himself. He placed the Mauser on the rear seat beside TJ’s bag.
Chapter 6
Through the fog of a contented drowse, Teagan became aware. Her eyes opened enough to see a plump, handsome nurse framed in the light of the doorway. Florene Johnson carried a baby wrapped tightly in a receiving blanket. “This is Charles O’Riley . Any relation to you?” She pushed a button to raise the bed into a sitting position and laid Charlie into Teagan’s outstretched arms.
Teagan drew him close, breathing in the precious scents of baby oil and newness. His wrinkled, slippery birth image was forever marked in her memory. This first picture of him swaddled in a soft blanket and a knit cap would last as long.
Florene busied herself by straightening the bedside table. Gentle pleasure encompassed her wholesome face.
“ You’re looking mighty pleased,” Teagan said. “Doretta had her baby.”
A grin spread. “Ten pounds of lusty boy.”
Teagan knew that particular expression. “I can’t get over how much Doretta looks like you.”
“ She’s my baby girl, but the mischief dancing in those eyes belongs to her daddy.” Florene placed her right hand on her hip. “Does my new grandbaby’s daddy have sparkin’ eyes?”
“ You fox. Doretta hasn’t told me either.”
Florene deflated like a fresh hospital sheet settling on a bed. “Well, I tried. Are you ready to feed this hungry boy?”
Suckling on his fist, he ignored Teagan as she tried to guide him to her breast. He needed to eat and that was that.
“ It’s easy, girl. Just hold his mouth close to your nipple and he’ll do the rest.”
Teagan couldn’t believe the sensation. Smarting tugs, and then in the midst of the hurtful pulling, a different kind of maternal love grew and deepened with each drawing of her nourishment. She gladly bore the
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