More food. Pancakes, of course!
Secrets at Midnight
Leona Palmer Haag
Chapter 45
Every fiber of his being tensed as Matt listening
to the approaching vehicle. Dim headlights appeared, followed by an ancient
truck—nothing a Fed would drive. He stepped forward and lifted his hand. The
lone driver halted and rolled down a window. Matt shuffled to the opening.
“We're lost and need help.”
The man visually
assessed him with suspicion mingled with curiosity. A quick glance at Jenn and
Katie softened his expression. “Hop in.”
With Jenn and Katie in
the cab and their bags stowed in the truck bed, Matt climbed inside and offered
the man his hand. “Much thanks. I'm Jake Johnson.” He gestured. “Wife Sarah and
little one Kate.”
“Tyler Grafton,” the
man grunted. “You're not from these parts.”
“No. Thanks for the
rescue.”
Tyler nodded. “Yup.
Where's your car and gear?”
“We’re not sure
anymore. We were forced to abandon everything two days back. Can you take us
into town?”
“Not tonight. The wife
and me’ll put you up for the night if you don’t mind sleeping on the floor.”
Matt shot Jenn a quick
look. She didn’t scream, mention Dallas or kidnapping. He turned to Tyler. “It
beats sleeping under a tree during a snowstorm. Are we far from town?”
Tyler—looking more
mountain-ish than Hollywood could possibly portray—chuckled. “Have been since
you arrived. We’re a good fifty-fifty between Missoula and Coeur d’Alene.”
Resting his arm
protectively around Jenn's shoulder and feeling her tense, Matt pumped Tyler
for information about the terrain, logging, mining activities and hunting. His
objective: learn if the locals had noticed unusual activity. Tyler answered
willingly. Usually.
Darkness had fallen
when Tyler pulled to a stop, headlights illuminating a log cabin. “The wife'll
have something hot on the table and we’ll rustle up a bed for you.”
“What do you do for a
living?” Matt asked Tyler as they ate.
“Raise chickens and a
few rows of veg’tables. Atop of that I work for Mother Nature. When my boss
sees a buck trespassing in my cabbage patch she gives me a holler and I handle
it. You like venison?”
“Can't say I've ever
tried it,” Matt said.
Mrs. Grafton held up a
spoonful of stew with a chunk of meat and smiled.
“It's great,” Matt
said.
“What do you do, Mr.
Johnson?” Tyler asked.
“Work in an office.”
“I once pushed a
pencil myself,” Tyler said with a laugh. “Till sixth grade.”
After eating they
bathed and donned borrowed nightshirts. Tyler built up the fire on the hearth
while Matt scrubbed their clothing and hung it to dry. Mrs. Grafton—Patti—had
offered to perform the task, but he’d refused. She delivered an armload of
quilts before abandoning them for the night.
“You get the couch and
I'll take the floor,” Matt said.
Jenn snuggled with
Katie and her breathing quickly became soft and regular. Wrapped mummy style,
Matt closed his eyes on the torturous day. He hoped morning safely arrived.
Instead of sleeping, his mind geared up, sorting clues and analyzing
information on defections, dangers, who to trust, where Nick and Monica might
be—he solved nothing.
Jenn sighed and his
thoughts shifted to the woman inches away curled up in clashing patchwork hues.
She was nearly thirty-two, and so far he’d kept the promises he’d made. Now he
was protecting the next generation. But how long could he do it—only until
midway through the next day? At age five he’d been too innocent to imagine he
couldn’t keep her safe, and now at thirty-seven he was too experienced to
consider it easy.
But he vowed he’d do
it.
Matt’s soul lifted
heavenward in silent communication—more thought-like than prayer: God, you must
be watching out for Jenn because we both know I couldn’t have talked her into
rappelling with Katie. Thanks for giving her the push to get out of that cabin.
I’ve done my best—filling in the gaps human hands could manage, but I’m
extremely weak. Eternal thanks.
He couldn’t help
himself from smiling at Jenn’s mule-stubbornness and how only God could have
budged her over the steep edge she’d taken. Maybe that was the way it would
always be. If God had helped, He knew what He was working with—him a sinner,
and a woman who didn’t trust either of them. He hoped when things looked like
he’d fail, God would step in again.
Matt made a vow. If
God pulled them through this ordeal—clear to the end—he promised to look Him up
again, turn his life around and trust Him completely. Monica would consider him
crazy and have plenty to say about it—if she was still alive.
Morning arrived.
Breakfast with the Grafton's included fresh goat’s milk and a towering stack of
hot cakes dripping with huckleberry syrup. Matt was delighted when Jenn, a girl
who always looked like she’d blow away in a stiff breeze, ate enough to stay
anchored. When finished, he leaned back in his chair and allowed his eyes to
rove over the cabin. “You've got a lot of healthy houseplants, Tyler.”
“Winter is long and
hard. We keep a little greenery inside to cheer us up.”
He pulled out his
wallet. “Your hospitality has been generous. I'd like to pay for it.”
“We'd be ashamed of
ourselves if we took it,” Patti said, gathering dirty dishes.
“I won't insult you,
but I’d feel better leaving a note of thanks on the table.” He pulled out a
couple bills and tucked them under the peppermill.
Tyler chuckled. “A
government note of thanks?”
“It’s the only paper
and ink I have. If you're ever down south, look us up. Sarah’s is a great cook.
She’ll whip up fried chicken, and her chocolate sour cream cake is the best.”
“If we're ever down
your way, we'll stop by,” the Graftons agreed.
After they climbed
into the truck cab with Tyler, Matt said, “We appreciate all you’ve done for
us, but we still have a problem, and we'd appreciate your help. The government
is looking for us. I’m not asking you to do anything illegal, just don’t
mention our visit.”
Tyler thoughtfully
looked them over. “What makes you think they’re looking for a nice little
family like yours?”
“My line of work.”
“Outlaws with a baby,”
Tyler slowly drawled.
Matt chuckled.
“Unlikely, I know.”
Tyler pulled off the
main road onto a narrow lane. After jolting through potholes they pulled into a
yard. Jenn and Katie waited in the truck while Matt and Tyler joined three men
lounging on a porch. Returning a few minutes late, Matt leaned through an open
window. “I was sent away while they discuss us.”
Jenn grasped his hand.
“I’ve got the creeps. I can’t explain it. These are nice people, it seems, but
also creepy.”
He glanced at the men,
then faced her. “I feel differently. I think we’re safe. I told them we're
being followed.”
“You don’t know that,”
she hissed.
“Not completely, but it’s
only fair to warn them before someone snoops around. I’m sure they’ll be fine.
Up here government isn't a nice word,
so our chances of getting help are pretty good, but keep your gun handy.”
A moment later Tyler
joined them. “My uncle will borrow you a car until you find another one.”
“That’s a lot of
trust,” Matt said.
The men climbed in the
truck and Tyler cranked the key. “You seem trustworthy. These mountains are a
good hideout if you want to stay. No sense in heading back to trouble. We’ll
put you up in a cabin up the hill from the missus and me. It's in need of
repairs but would suit folks like you just fine.”
Matt shook his head.
“Thanks, but it wouldn’t keep you safe. We’ll move on.”
“You’ve got time to
change your mind—an hour before we strike town.”
They bounced down the
road, his truck taking turns full speed, defying it’s age and condition. Town wasn't much—a few houses strung
along the main road, all hosting dirty furniture on porches loaded with napping
dogs. The little service station had closed, the pumps permanently rusted over.
The uncle's home sat hidden behind tangles of berry canes. Tyler abandoned them
and made his way to the porch for negotiation, unconcerned about the swarm of
dogs accompanying him. He returned swinging a key. As they drove to the loaned
car, he said, “The gas tank is below half. Leave it in Missoula with the keys
under the driver’s seat.” He handed Matt a wrinkled paper bag with an address
scrawled on it. “Park it under the elm tree next to the mailbox. Leave the keys
under the seat.”
Matt grasped the
mountain man's hand. “We owe you more than we can pay.”
“Think nothing of it,”
Tyler drawled.
With their baggage
unloaded—dirty packs and a diaper bag—Matt turned to him. “When I return to
work I'll be required to submit a detailed report. I'll mention your kindness
and assistance, but I won't include your houseplants if you'll get rid of
them.”
Tyler's eyes narrowed.
“Who do you work for?”
“Big Brother. Your
silence about our presence will insure my silence and your safety.” Matt held
out his hand. Tyler eyed it suspiciously, then firmly grasped it, sealing the
pact.
End Chapter 45
Around here we love pancakes smothered in buttermilk syrup and steamy apple slices, or homemade blueberry syrup, or maple syrup (the real and homemade kinds), and tart huckleberry syrup. Add strawberries, bananas, other fruit and real whipped cream or real "shake the bottle and spray it" whipped cream to the top for a perfect pancake. Oh, and lots of butter. I'm sorry if I'm making you hungry, but I've been hungry for the past several chapters.
Go ahead and leave me a brief comment if you'd like. You can request a recipe, freak out over my posts being too slow, or let me know my sentence structure stinks. Or just tell me you're loving the novel I've given you. I hope you're enjoying it and have a wonderful day.
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