that’s Trace. He takes in all the strays. Always has.”
Was that why he tried to hire her? Because she looked like a stray to be pitied? “So you’ve known him a long time?”
“Long enough to know he’s a soft touch, but then everybody in Redemption knows everyone else. Familiarity is the blessing of small-town living.”
Or maybe the curse.
“He offered me a job.” Cheyenne added a light laugh as though the notion was facetious—and maybe it was. What kind of sensible human hired total strangers off the street without so much as a reference?
“Oooh.” Kitty’s eyes twinkled in speculation. “You must have made an impression.”
Cheyenne stiffened, her guard firmly back in place. “He said he hires a lot of people.”
Kitty laughed merrily. “Yes. He does. Trace is always trying to help someone and from what I’ve seen the clinic can use all the assistants he can find. I was teasing you, though you have to admit Trace Bowman is a cutie-pie.”
“I didn’t notice.” Liar, liar.
Kitty laughed again. “Then you need to make an appointment with Dr. Spencer to have your eyes checked.”
Cheyenne tweaked a shoulder. “Well, maybe I did notice.”
Kitty slapped the top of the glass counter and set a half dozen military bobble-heads in motion. “Now you’re talking. I may be a widow but I know fine when I see it. And that man is über-fine. Why didn’t you take the job, you crazy woman?”
“Not the kind of work I’m looking for, but I do need a job, so if you know of anything…”
Kitty stuck a pencil through her blond topknot. “What kind of job do you have in mind?”
Anything but the über-fine vet. “Office work, waitressing, retail, that kind of thing.”
“Quite a variety there. I’ll keep my ear to the ground. You’d do a lot better asking at the Sugar Shack, though. Everyone and everything filters through there. Talk to Miriam. She owns the place.”
“All right. Thanks. I’ll do that.”
Kitty opened a drawer and took out a key. “This is for Unit 4. I’ll walk over there with you to make sure the room suits you.”
“I’m sure it’s okay.”
“Me, too, but I could use a little more girl talk.” Blue eyes widened, she bunched her shoulders in a charming gesture. Kitty’s delicate femininity left Cheyenne feeling like a wrestler. “It’s not every day I rent a room to someone near my age.”
“All right, then, lead the way.” As long as Kitty didn’t pry too deeply, they could girl-talk all she wanted. Kitty could talk. Cheyenne would listen.
Exiting the office, they followed a curving graveled path past three motel doors, each bearing a shiny brass number. Red, white and blue impatiens bordered the gravel in a cheery repeat of Kitty’s favorite color scheme.
“What brings you to Redemption, Cheyenne? Relatives?”
“I don’t know a soul.” And no one knows me. For the people of Redemption, she was a clean slate, just the way she wanted to be.
“No relatives and no job,” Kitty said, “so that leaves only one other reason for coming here.”
And Cheyenne hoped no one discovered what that reason was.
Knowing when to keep her mouth shut, she shoved her hands into her jacket pockets and stared down at the white gravel crunching beneath her boots.
Kitty raised a hand to greet someone. “Hi, Henry. Nice day for fishing. Going to the river?”
Cheyenne looked up. A middle-aged man, fishing rod over one shoulder, hoisted a tackle box in greeting.
“I sure am. Wanna come along?”
Kitty’s merry laugh rang out. “Another time. Gotta wash your sheets today.”
The man waved again and slammed the door of his truck. The engine roared, sending a puff of exhaust into the atmosphere as he pulled away.
Small-town friendliness was something Cheyenne would have to get used to.
Kitty picked up the conversation where she’d left off. “Redemption draws people, Cheyenne. I don’t know how exactly but the Lord must lead them here.”
A skeptical Cheyenne searched the motel owner’s guileless face. Kitty Wainright seemed too nice to be one of those religious wackos. “You’re saying God told me to come to this town?”
That was about as far from true as the woman could get.
“No.” The sun gleamed off blond hair as Kitty shook her head. “I said He leads people—people who need what Redemption has to offer.”
“I have to be honest with you, Kitty. I’m not sure what I believe about God anymore.”
Kitty slid the room key into the door marked with the number 4. As she pushed it open and cool, potpourri-scented air wafted out, she turned and placed a hand on Cheyenne’s arm. “Then I have good news for you, girl. Those with questions, those who are struggling, they’re exactly the ones He leads to Redemption.”
Chapter Three
Cheyenne awoke the next morning with a headache and the remnants of the dream lingering like a bad odor. She sat on the side of the bed, head in her hands, for several minutes to clear the fog.
Last night as usual, after checking and rechecking the locks, she’d lain awake for hours with the lights on. Her thoughts had run the gamut from the old bums to the handsome vet to Kitty’s curious comment about God.
She’d stumbled onto the town of Redemption by accident. A spot on the map. A place to land. There was no other explanation. Certainly not some mystical voice from God.
She scrubbed at her face with both hands, ashamed of her cynical attitude. Kitty hadn’t talked about voices, though her meaning was as mysterious as a voice would have been.
After a glance at the clock-radio, Cheyenne dragged herself out of bed and to the shower. Today was the first day of the rest of her life and she was determined to find a job and get on with living.
By the time she was dressed and ready to hunt down the Sugar Shack, her cell phone jingled. After checking the caller ID, she answered. “Hi, Brent.”
“Hey, sis.” Her brother’s deep voice eased an ache in her chest. “Where are you? Still sleeping in your car?”
“Believe it or not, no.” She looked around the motel room. Kitty took pains to make the units more homey than most. “I’m in a motel in Redemption, a little town in Oklahoma.”
Brent whistled. “Long way from home, sis.”
