Riding Shotgun. Joanna Wayne

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 bite of the banana and checked the refrigerator to see if there was something a lousy cook like herself could prepare for Esther’s supper. Bacon, eggs and sandwich fixings were plentiful, but that was about it.

      The freezer told a different tale. One shelf was filled with serving-size packages of food, all neatly labeled. Soups, meatloaf, chicken and dumplings, casseroles.

      Another shelf held sealed plastic bags filled with frozen vegetables. Butter beans, several kinds of peas, corn, carrots and okra, to name a few. Definitely no shortage of food choices.

      Satisfied Esther wouldn’t starve, Grace quickly went about the business at hand. She finished her banana and retrieved the bottle of pills. She shook out two into her hand and filled a glass with ice water before hurrying back to the large family room.

      Esther raised up on her elbows, took the meds and almost finished the glass of water.

      “You’ve done enough waiting on me for now,” Esther said. “I’d appreciate if you could stay awhile, but you’d best go get your car before it gets dark.”

      “Good idea,” Grace agreed. “And then I’ll come back and warm up something for your dinner.”

      “For my supper,” Esther said. “That’s what Charlie always called it. He liked his big meal at lunch and something light at night.”

      “Then I’ll fix your supper,” Grace said. “Are you sure you’ll be all right while I’m gone?”

      “I’m not getting off this sofa. But you can’t go traipsing across that pasture and climbing through barbwire again,” Esther announced. “You could get hurt.”

      “I’ll be careful.” Though she wasn’t looking forward to the possibility of meeting a bull head-on.

      “Fiddle-faddle. Hand me the phone. I’ll call Buck. Much as I have to pay that boy to do a few chores, won’t hurt him to do me a favor.”

      Which bought up a more important subject. Grace handed her the phone. “Speaking of favors, is there someone you can call to stay with you tonight?”

      “Don’t need ’em. I can hobble the few steps to the bathroom when the urge hits and to the kitchen to get fresh ice when I need it. Rest of the time, I may just sleep right here on the sofa.”

      “You are a very independent woman, Esther Kavanaugh.”

      “When you’re alone, you have to be.”

      Grace knew that all too well. Still, she didn’t feel good about leaving Esther alone tonight.

      Esther made the call to Buck and then turned back to Grace. “His mom says he’s in the shower, but she’ll send him over as soon as he’s dressed.”

      “Perhaps either Buck or his mother could stay with you tonight,” Grace suggested.

      “Buck’s fine with the livestock. I don’t want him trying to help me, though. He’s all legs and awkward as all get-out.”

      “What about his mother?”

      “Libby would just keep me awake blabbering all night. She’s the biggest gossip in Winding Creek, and that’s saying a lot.”

      “Perhaps there’s someone else, then.”

      “No one I’d like putting up with. You said you were just traveling through. Where are you heading?”

      Time for the lies to commence. Fortunately, Grace had worked out most of the details of her new identity while driving. Of course, she’d already blown the fake name.

      Being prepared didn’t make the lying any easier, especially to someone as open and trusting as Esther.

      “I lost my job in Houston,” Grace said, “so I’m going to visit a friend in Albuquerque. She thinks she can get me a job there.”

      “You’re kind of off track for Albuquerque, aren’t you?”

      “Yes, but since I’m in no hurry, I thought I’d see more of Texas, take back roads, stop at towns I’d never been to.”

      “Like Winding Creek?”

      “Winding Creek wasn’t on my original itinerary,” Grace admitted, “but I like this part of Texas.”

      “Most folks do love the Hill Country. So what’s your hurry? Stick around a day or two. Drive into Winding Creek. It’s a genuine Western town. Still has places on Main Street to hitch your horse—not that I recommend taking a horse into town.”

      “Perhaps I’ll come back one day and check it out.”

      “No time like the present. I’ve got plenty of room in this rambling old house and I’d love the company.”

      “Aren’t you afraid I’ll blab too much?” Grace teased.

      “Wouldn’t mind if you did. At least it wouldn’t be the same old stories and gossip I’ve been listening to for years.”

      “I’m a stranger,” Grace said. “You know nothing about me. You really shouldn’t invite strangers into your home.”

      “I know plenty about you. You climbed through a barbwire fence and ran to the aid of someone yelling their lungs out when you had no idea what you might be getting into.”

      “Anyone would have done that.”

      “No. Not these days. Well, they do in Winding Creek, but not everywhere. Don’t matter, you seem like a good person to me and I’m an excellent judge of character. Even Charlie used to admit that I can spot a liar the second they open their mouth. I can spot an honest person even quicker.”

      Which didn’t bode well for Grace, since almost every word out of her mouth from here on out would be based on a lie. But she did hate the idea of leaving Esther alone tonight.

      What harm could one night do? It wasn’t as if she was being followed. She’d been far too careful for that. There was no earthly reason for anyone to look for her here.

      “I have four extra bedrooms,” Esther encouraged. “One ought to be to your liking. None of them are fancy, but the beds are comfortable—even have clean sheets on them. Beats driving an hour or more and then being stuck in some stuffy old motel room down the highway.”

      “You are putting up a good argument.”

      “Then it’s settled. You’ll spend the night here. We’ll get to know each other better. I have a feeling we’re going to be great friends.”

      Grace was certain the prediction they’d become friends would never come to fruition. Keeping her past and true identity locked away like bones in a crumbling crypt never allowed her to get too close to anyone.

      “Okay,” Grace agreed. “One night, if you really want me to stay. But you have to promise to let me take care of you. I don’t want you trying to play hostess on that ankle.”

      “I’m just going to lie right here except when I have to go to the bathroom.” Esther smiled and the lines in her face