Part 4 (1/2)
”My daddy was a cowboy though. He worked on ranches in Montana, Northern California. He's a good guy, my dad. My mom too. She was a waitress for a long time. Both of *em worked real hard.”
”Are they still working?” Comfortable now in the dark with him, Tara moved around and closer.
”Nope. They were pretty old when they had me.
Retired now. But my dad's still a cowboy. Taught me to love the life.
Music especially. I do so love that music. Everyone's so darn sad and strong in those songs. Don't you think? Especially the women. On their own, men leavin', men cheatin', and they just go on. Keep all that hurt inside.
d.a.m.n, those are sad songs.” He jumped down from the fence and examined the palm of his hand as if he'd picked up a splinter. Just when she thought to help him, his eyes flicked her way, his grin almost hidden by the angle of his head.
”Strong women. Like you, I guess, huh?”
”And Donna,” Tara reminded him.
”Naw. Donna's the soft one. You're the strong one. That's what she tells me, but I could see it myself. You may live quiet, but I wasn't fooled. Not like Donna, who lives big but needs things at home that belong to her. That little lady thinks the world of you, you know.”
Bill Hamilton began to walk, tracing a path toward the river. Tara joined him. They turned and headed toward the house, only to stop near the cottonwood where she'd found him. Sweet talk rolled off his tongue like sap down a wounded maple.
”We've been friends a long time. Donna and I.”
”I know. She's told me every story about fifty times. Wish I was buddies with someone the way you two are.”
”Looks like you've found one now.” Tara c.o.c.ked her head toward the guest house. He followed her gaze and she swore his eyes softened almost to tears.
”She really saved me. That's one special lady.”
He collected himself and reached down for a pebble.
He looked at it closely and then gave it a snap.
It danced over the ground and they picked up the pace again.
”You had something you needed to be saved from?” Tara asked.
Too personal. She could see it in his eyes. Before Tara could make light of it, he went on to something else.
”Donna says you're a good lawyer. One of the best.”
”I don't know how she'd know, but I appreciate the accolades.” She smiled, pleased with the compliment.
He could charm the rattles off a snake, or even turn Tara's head, without a problem.
”Only speakin' the truth the way I know it.” Another kick and a pebble went flying. Ten yards and not a word was said.
”What kind of law do you do?”
”General practice. Civil, some criminal,” Tara answered.
”This isn't exactly a big city. It's difficult to specialize. I've got some corporate clients who make me comfortable. With those fees I can afford to help people who need a voice in the system. You know, just like Joan of Arc or Susan B. Anthony. I'm right up there.” Tara chuckled and walked slowly. In the morning she would thank Donna for bringing Bill Hamilton, for talking to her, for making her see that it was time to enjoy for the sheer sake of enjoyment.
She would put an ad in the paper. Wanted: One good-looking cowboy to make me feel like a very special woman. They'd double-date.
”That's good. I like that. You really help the folks who come to you, even when they aren't rich?”
”I try. Sometimes I can't help. Most often I can.”
”I bet you manage better than you know.” He twirled in front of her.
Tara stopped. He looked toward the guest house.
”You'd talk to anyone who needed help, wouldn't you?”
”Sure. Can't hurt to talk. If I couldn't handle the problem, I'd refer it to someone who could,” Tara said, realizing the tone of the conversation had changed.
”Do you know someone who needs to talk to a lawyer?”
”I do. Yes ma'am.” They faced each other square, Tara almost as tall as he. Between them was something, a field of antic.i.p.ation so palpable that Tara swore she could reach out and touch it. But this thing had nothing to do with charm; this was no feminine short circuit. She looked at him curiously now, seeing beneath the brightly lit eyes, something she hadn't noticed at first. A seriousness, an intelligence and intensity that made him all that more compelling.
”I need to talk to a lawyer, Tara, and I was hopin' you might consider being the one to help.”
”Nothing serious, I hope?” She put out professional feelers, but nothing came back. No dread, no fear, no nothing. She breathed easy.
”Got me, but I know I need a lawyer. I'd like to hire you.” His hand was on her shoulder, and Tara was almost sure that when he removed it, the imprint would remain.
”Of course. I wouldn't have you go anywhere else. I'll help if I can.” She moved out of touching range. He took no offense and fell in step with her again. They were headed back toward the house now, river sounds serenading them. It was time to sleep.
”I've got a hearing in the morning.
I'll be in the office about ten. Ask Donna. She'll tell you how to get there.”
”Sounds good. I'll be die re We'll do it.” He did some finger popping and put one hand over the fist he made with the other.
”I'll see you then.” He turned toward the guest house then pivoted back, ”Oh, I know you're pretty high priced. I just want you to know I'm good for it. Don't you worry. I got money, Tara.”
r ”Didn't cross my mind. Good night, Bill. I'll be honored to help you out.” Tara gave him a nod.
They parted only for Tara's professional curiosity to get the best of her.
”Bill?”
”Yep?”
”I'll need some idea of what it is we're going to be discussing.”
Tara's words bolted into the air, froze, and rang in her ears. The silence stretched into a thin, cold line and finally, through the dark, he spoke.
”Summer,” he said. Tara beetled her brow and shook her head though he probably couldn't see.
”There was a big to-do out at a Circle K on the highway.”