CHAPTER 6
Travis stood at the top of Main Street where Dottie’s Diner belonged, scanning for possible trouble spots. Normally the view from Dottie’s down Main Street brought a smile to his face. You couldn’t get more America & Apple Pie than Prairie on the Fourth of July. In past years, Main was decked out in red, white, and blue bunting, with flower baskets hanging from the light posts. This year, the contrast couldn’t be more stark. No bunting. Not even light posts. Only a road bordered with cleared lots waiting to rebuild. But the city council had been adamant the parade go on as usual. So demolition teams had worked double shifts alongside residents to remove the last of the rubble. Prairie might be down, but she certainly wasn’t out, and the upside of their work was that construction would be ready to begin July 5th.
He reached for one of Dottie’s famous biscuits piled high on the hospitality table and coated it liberally with strawberry jam before popping it into his mouth. A quick glance at his watch confirmed that parade participants would start arriving any minute. The mayor’s office projected double the usual crowd this year. But double the people meant a headache for logistics and crowd control. He hated doing it on a holiday, but he’d called the whole squad to work double shifts today.
Thanks to the storm, people were curious about Prairie’s recovery. He couldn’t blame them. Seeing the town pull together had been nothing short of miraculous. In past years, they’d struggled to find volunteers to help place baskets of small American flags along the parade route. This year, they’d come out of the woodwork and were finished by the time the sun peeked over the hills.
Gunnar Hansen pulled into the lot towing a horse trailer and rolled to a stop, elbow hanging out the window and shaking his head. “Still can’t get used to it.”
“Me either. Although I like this view better than the one right after the tornado.”
Gunnar grimaced, grief momentarily flickering across his face. “Me too. Me too. And we’ll like it even better next year.”
“We will. Now let’s get those horses unloaded. I appreciate you letting us use them this morning.”
Gunnar flashed him a smile. “Happy to help Prairie’s finest keep up their image.”
They walked around back, unloaded the horses and led them to a makeshift corral they’d erected where the building next door to Dottie’s had once stood. Gunnar tossed a saddle blanket over the horse closest. “This is Buzz, and the horse you’re saddling is Ricky. They’re our largest animals. Ricky is a bit more lively than Buzz, so I’d recommend him for you.”
“You don’t think I can handle a feisty horse?” Weston asked, joining them.
“You’re a pretty good rider for a city boy,” Travis acknowledged.
“Thank Horses Helping Heroes.”
“I’m gonna move the trailer outta the way. See you day after tomorrow when Hope gets back?”
“Not me.” Weston shook his head. “Boss-man put me on shift so he could go play cowboy.”
“Perks of being the boss.” Travis grinned.
“Catch you then.” Gunnar hopped into the cab and pulled out onto Main.
Travis checked his watch again. “Time to get this show on the road. Traffic cones set up?”
Weston nodded. “Volunteers are directing traffic, and I’ve got three guys on the outskirts.”
“Good. See you back here for the start?”
Weston gave him a mock salute and turned. Travis headed down the street, scanning for potential threats. There never was one, but he couldn’t help it. He was always on high alert when the crowds were big. People had begun to line the streets with lawn chairs and picnic blankets. Music blared from a speaker system by the ‘grandstand’ – basically a set of choir risers someone had pulled from one of the local churches with a few folding tables covered in bunting and a PA system. As usual, the Mayor, Wilson Watson, would be acting as emcee.
When he finished checking the parade route, he circled back to the staging area via the food truck. But not to check on Elaine or scan the playground for Dax. He was just making sure everything was under control. He immediately spotted Elaine looking harried. The truck was crowded with out of towners. The picnic benches were full up, with many eating while standing. Elaine was flipping them as fast as she could. He checked his watch. Twenty minutes before he and Weston had to mount up. He made a beeline for her through the crowd, tapping her shoulder and bracing himself for the zing of electricity. “How can I help?”
Her eyes brightened, and his throat squeezed tight. “You sure it won’t tarnish your image?”
“Makes me more approachable.” It was true. People were naturally afraid of the uniform, so doing things like helping bus tables, petting dogs, or stopping by the playground went a long way to build relationships in the community.
“Great. Can you change the trash barrels? They’re overflowing.”
“On it.” He made his way to the trash cans, stopping behind the food truck first to pull fresh bags out of a locker that had been salvaged from the part of the school damaged by the tornado, and which now acted as a utility closet for the food truck.
Armed with rubber gloves and fresh bags, he mashed the trash into the can, knotted the bag and replaced it with a new one. Grabbing all four bags, he crossed to the dumpster and tossed them in, followed by the rubber gloves. Making a mental note to ask the rest of the squad to check on the cans throughout the morning, he skirted the throng, catching Elaine’s eye and waving. Thank you, she mouthed, bestowing another smile on him that warmed him more than Dottie’s coffee on a cold day. Surely Dottie would close down the truck for the parade? He’d hate for Elaine and Dax to miss it.
Just as he arrived at the staging area, a commotion sprang up on the far side of the lot. Weaving through clowns, 4-H-ers, trick riders, and a marching band from one of the big high schools in Kansas City, he discovered the source of the problem. A large man in a navy suit and white straw cowboy hat stood arguing with a tiny woman in a traditional Mexican gaucho costume.
“What’s the problem?”
The woman, Luci Cruz, turned to him, eyes flashing. “This man’s car is spooking my horses.”
The man also turned to him with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I was just explaining to the little lady that she needs to move her horses.”
Travis bit back a chuckle. Little lady, huh? Nobody called Luci Cruz little lady.
“Este cabrón que finge ser un vaquero dice que estamos robando su sombra. Pero, mira! Él está en el lugar equivocado.” She waved her parade number at him.
“Tranquila, hermanita,” he answered, grateful for the cover of a second language. The guy looked familiar, but Travis couldn’t place him. Whoever he was, he had the false air of a used car salesman. “Me ocuparé de este imbécil.”
Lucy crossed her arms, scowling. “Simplemente no quiere caminar detrás de la mierda de caballo.”
A rough laugh escaped Travis before he could stop it. Probably. Wouldn’t want to mess up his too shiny boots. He turned to the man and extended his hand. “Can I see your parade number?”
The smile left the man’s face for a fraction of a second. “No need for that. The little lady just needs to move her horses over with the others.”
This triggered another round of Spanish from Luci, which only increased the man’s scowl. If this guy was going to be an asshole, he could be a bigger one. “Luci is in the right place. Your paper please.” His voice came out clipped.
“Lee, find that damned piece of paper.” The man shouted angrily at the driver of the shiny red convertible, decked out with American flags and spinning silver pinwheels. God, the thing was as gaudy and fake as he was. Who was this guy? He dressed like he was from Texas, not Kansas. Or going to a wedding. But everyone in these parts wore their best black Stetsons to a wedding. Travis dropped his gaze to the car door. STEVE LAWSON for COUNTY SHERIFF, it read in bold letters. No wonder the guy was trying to hang onto his temper. You couldn’t be an asshole in public if you were running for office. And all of a sudden, the loose end that had been flitting around his head slipped into place. He had met Lawson once before. Well, seen him. And he hadn’t liked him then either. The guy had given a speech at a Police Union conference in Topeka a few years back. He’d come across then as a know-it-all blowhard with a mean streak, and from the looks of it, he hadn’t evolved.
Travis stepped up to the driver, who reluctantly handed over the paper. Biting his cheek so he didn’t grin, he turned to Lawson. “Turns out you belong in the lot across the street.” Travis waved to an empty lot on the other side of Second Street, which ran parallel to Main.
The smarmy smile was back. “Surely, Travis.” The man’s eyes drifted to his name tag. “You can let us stay here a bit longer? I’d be mighty grateful.”
So this guy was pouring on the charm because of the badge? And he was treating Luci Cruz like dirt? Travis’s stomach churned. Fuck this asshole and the horse he rode in on. If he even knew how to ride a horse. Travis clenched his jaw, breathing in through his nose before he spoke as firmly as he could. “Sorry. That’s not how we roll here. Wouldn’t be fair to the rest of the participants. You’ll have to vacate the spot.” Travis gave him a tight smile.
Lawson’s eyes flared angrily for a brief second, then the cool mask was back in place. “I understand.”
Good.
Travis crossed his arms and stood his ground, pointedly watching the convertible back out of the shade and onto Second, before flipping a U-turn into the far lot and rolling into its proper spot behind the Future Farmers of America trailer and a half dozen kids on horseback.
Luci shot him a grateful smile. “Thanks, Travis. Saul here thanks you too.” She patted her sleek, black Arabian decked out in antique silver.
“Anytime, Luci. Tell your folks I said hi.”
“You bet,” she called out as he turned back across the lot to find Weston waiting with their borrowed horses.
“Let’s get this show on the road.”
Weston shot him an easy grin and handed him his black Stetson. He didn’t wear it much anymore, but after his run-in with Lawson, he was glad they’d decided to ride the parade route on horseback this year, instead of in their vehicles with the lights on. He swung up onto Ricky. Weston handed up a big sack of candy before mounting Buzz. Together they wheeled the horses around and trotted through to the front of the line. They would lead off, followed by the VFW color guard and the marching band, which would stop at the grandstand to play the national anthem.
They started slowly down the street to the cheers and claps of the townspeople, throwing candy as they went. “Hey Kincaid,” a voice called from the side. “You gonna run for sheriff?”
“Yes,” Weston hollered at the same time he said, “We’ll see.” Their mixed response drew laughter and applause.
“I met Lawson just now,” Travis muttered under his breath. “Dottie was right, the guy’s a total douchebag.”
“So, run already.”
Travis threw some candy to a group of little girls. “I was saving that money to restart the ranch someday.”
“So ask for donations then. People would give you money in a heartbeat.”
“No,” he gritted through a plastered-on smile. “I can’t ask them to support me when half these folks don’t have jobs right now. Not. Happening.”
“So you’re saying you’d rather Lawson be your new boss?”
“Fuck you, asshole.”
“Just callin’ it like it is.”
“Travis! Hey, Travis!”
Travis turned in the direction of Dax’s voice, smiling for his favorite seven-year-old. Dax stood jumping up and down, his new Transformer clutched in his hand. Seeing the boy with a genuine smile on his face warmed him. “Hey there, buddy. Want some candy?”
Dax nodded eagerly, but it was the indulgent smile from the woman behind Dax that heated his belly. He tossed a handful of candy in Dax’s direction as an idea popped into his head. If only Elaine would agree to it.