Meadowlarks by Thomas Holladay (novels to improve english TXT) 📗

felt an invisible box closing in around her. She scrambled to her feet and leaned across the desk. “Whatever’s necessary? Does that include cruelty to animals, Mr. Whatling?”

He folded his fat hands against the edge of his desk and watched his twiddling thumbs. “With regard to that, you’ll need to speak with Sheriff Nason.”

“I’ll need to speak with my lawyer.”

He stood and faced her head-on, confident yet polite. “That would be fine. I’ll be happy to recommend a good one. We do work for you and your son.”

“No thank you. I have very good lawyers. Perhaps you’ve heard of them; Emerick, Bessel and Waters.”

“No, ma’am. But, I’ll be happy to provide them with a copy of the trust deed and whatever else you might direct us to submit.”

WHEN SHERIFF PHIL NASON reached Jim Embry’s turnoff, the sun had already gone behind the western rim of the mountain. They only had about an hour of daylight to get this done.

Plowing through snow, going uphill on Embry’s gravel road without chains was tricky. He should be wearing chains on at least the back tires but he didn’t have time to put them on by himself. He’d certainly need chains to drive up to the waterfall. Embry could put them on in front of Potter’s barn.

The Perch.

Christ.

Embry’s going to crap himself.

Jim waited on his deep front porch, watching Nason plow snow in a wide turnaround. When the truck got close, Embry waded into knee deep snow with perfect timing.

Nason stopped and rolled down the passenger-side window. “Might be easier to climb in the window.”

“Bite my jumbo, Nason.” Embry always did things his way, the stubborn moron. He yanked the door until it opened wide enough to squeeze his lanky frame inside. While Embry still had one foot on the ground, Nason rolled the truck slowly forward, forcing Embry to hurry, using snow to push the door closed. “Damn it, Phil, you trying to break my leg?”

“We need to hurry. We don’t have much time.”

“Hurry for what?”

Nason followed his own plowed path back toward River Road and glanced down at the rolled rug on the consol between the seats, trying to make sure Jim saw it. His natural curiosity would force him to open it soon enough.

“Would you shut this freezer hole?” Embry poked his thumb at the open window.

“You’ve got a button.”

Embry grinned at himself and closed the window. “What in hell kind of emergency we got today makes me choke down my second turkey sandwich? I was taking my time with that one. She makes the best turkey sandwiches. She uses sourdough shepherd bread smothered with mayo.”

Nason could taste it. His mouth watered. He hadn’t eaten all day. “You could have brought one for me.”

“I asked my old woman to make one for you but she flipped me off.” He unzipped his coat and affectionately caressed his bulging tummy, deliberately punishing Nason. “My old woman can sure cook a turkey. Puts sliced leftovers on sourdough shepherd bread with lots of mayo. Man, oh man.”

“Christ, Embry, you look like the snake who swallowed the watermelon.”

Embry grinned and looked closely at Nason. “Christ yourself. You look all in.”

“I was out on the highway all night; had a bad one, two dead.”

“So, why’d you drag me out? Why ain’t you over at Nancy’s hugging pillows?”

Nason looked down at the rolled carpet again, prompting Embry to take a look.

Embry was still admiring his bloated belly, fondling the thing like a ripe peach. Nason could hear the man thinking, planning on how to stuff some pumpkin pie in there. “How is it you stay so thin?”

Embry grinned.

Nason turned left onto the cleared pavement of River Road and looked in his rearview mirror. “Damn!”

A quarter of a mile behind, Carolyn Potter’s Rover was speeding for home.

“Damn what?”

“That Potter woman is right behind us.”

“So?” Embry didn’t have a clue.

“Listen, when we get to her barn, you put the chains on the rear tires and let me do all the talking.”

“What the hell are you talking about, chains?”

They passed the road to the upper meadow where only the tips of a few fence posts showed above the snow to mark the edge of the road. The trail left by his truck yesterday had been completely covered by fresh snow. “Damn.”

“Damn what?”

Nason turned up the cleared cobblestone driveway, crossed the rise and turned down toward the barn where the snowplow had cleared and salted a wide turnaround. “We don’t have much time so hurry it up.”

Nason parked in front of the barn and climbed out, moving quickly now. He reached up for the key and opened the barn door, waving at Embry to get moving.

Embry grudgingly climbed out and looked back toward the house.

Carolyn Potter’s Rover rolled down the driveway toward them.

“What in hell's going on?”

“Just put those damn chains on.” Nason pointed to the big toolbox in the back of his truck.

Carolyn Potter stopped and stepped out of her Rover. “Just what do you think you’re doing?” Even in a rage, she looked beautiful, those dark blue eyes, the way she moved, marching toward Nason.

Embry finally dug into Nason’s toolbox. He wanted no part of whatever might come next.

With Nason thinking what to say, thinking this situation couldn’t get any worse, their dog barked from their front porch and charged toward the barn. He didn’t bother with the cleared part of the driveway. He plowed directly across the snow in the middle and rushed right at Nason.

Her young son ran right behind, following the lower side of the cleared driveway.

Embry jumped into the back of the truck and backed against the open tool box, looking at the roof of the truck to climb higher.

The dog lunged at Nason with his front paws, tongue out, just saying hello.

Nason rubbed the dog’s large head and let it take his gloved hand, gnawing gently, still saying hello. Speaking to Carolyn Potter, he said, “Hate to see you getting upset like this.”

“How dare you enter my barn without my permission?”

“You told me