the sheriff asked.
“I’ll call him and ask, but I know he will. He’ll want this incident to go away quietly so he doesn’t get any bad press on the opening weekend of his store.”
Virgil shrugged. “I suppose it could work. At least the bill will get paid. Plus, we’d be saving the county what it costs to keep the boy at the detention center.” After a moment the sheriff returned to Kitty and Adam. “My wife and I are good judges of character,” he said. “We can see that you two are good people deep down.”
Kitty held her breath. This sounded like a snow job. Even so, she was willing to listen. Whatever Oakes was about to say might be their only hope of getting back on the road.
“Do you have time before you have to be in Charlotte?” Oakes asked.
“Yes, sir. Some.”
“And you’ll guarantee that your boy will take care of all debt to the village of Sorrel Gap and the Value-Rite?”
“Yes. Adam?”
“What?”
She pinched his arm.
“Okay, jeez!”
Sheriff Oakes grinned. “Then there might be a solution to this problem.” He leaned against a desk and crossed his arms. “My nephew comes home from the hospital today. He had a little crash with his airplane and busted up his leg pretty good.”
A little crash? Kitty pictured wrecked metal and broken limbs.
“He’s a fine fella,” the sheriff continued. “An Iraq war hero. Lives in a place down the road with lots of rooms. I don’t guess he needs any serious nursing. Just general care. If you can see clear to staying out there and looking after him for a spell, and if your boy agrees to work with Quint over at the Value-Rite, I expect I can convince a judge and the citizens of Sorrel Gap to call your debt paid.”
Was the sheriff acting a bit too casual? At this point, doubts flooded Kitty’s mind. What exactly would their living arrangements be? How would she get along without her truck? And sure, the sheriff vouched for his nephew, but he was a complete stranger to her and Adam. He could be a jerk or worse.
As if sensing her reluctance, Sheriff Oakes stood straight and stared at her. “It’s a fair solution, young lady,” he said. “I guarantee you’ll be treated right, and once this debt is paid, you’ll be free to move on.”
The sheriff waited for her answer, his features stern. Kitty knew she was out of options. It was this deal or detention and court for Adam—with all the evidence rightly stacked against him. She could put off her entrance to the design school if that meant Adam wouldn’t be incarcerated. And since Oakes had said his nephew was in a plane crash, chances were his leg injury was severe. If she and Adam felt threatened by him, they could outrun him to the nearest neighbor’s house to find help. And he was a veteran. That was a detail in his favor.
She took a deep breath, glanced at Adam, whose disbelief was etched in his features. The best part about Oakes’s proposition was its benefit to her son. He’d finally learn that his actions had consequences. She put her hand on Adam’s shoulder. “I’m ready to accept this deal, Sheriff,” she said.
Adam gasped. She ignored him. “But I still have a problem with my truck. How will Adam and I get around?”
“My nephew has a Jeep,” he said. “He might let you use it once you gain his trust. But your first obligation is to him. I don’t want to hear that you’re driving around Spooner County on joy rides.”
Kitty almost smiled. As if she could do anything remotely joyful on thirty-seven dollars. In her old life, that didn’t even cover a haircut. She nodded. “Agreed.”
They could do this, look in on the sheriff’s relative while Adam worked off his debt. Plus, there was an added bonus. They had a place to stay and Owen would never think to look for them in Sorrel Gap. “We’ll do our best,” she added.
“I know you will, Kitty, and to show my appreciation, I’ll have your truck towed into town at our expense.” He grinned. “But I’ll keep the keys here in the office until this matter’s settled.”
“Mom!” Adam wailed.
Ignoring the sheriff’s veiled warning, she said to Adam, “Would you rather go to the detention facility?”
He mumbled a brusque “No.”
Kitty pressed her keys into the sheriff’s outstretched hand. “Can I ask one question?”
“Now’s the time.”
“How long until I get those back?”
He gave the keys to Wanda. “A few weeks maybe. Give or take. Fifteen hundred dollars is a lot of money, especially when the boy can’t work more than three or four hours a day. But it’s pretty country here. Might be the best summer you folks ever had.”
Adam grabbed her hand. “The whole summer?”
“No, surely not,” Kitty whispered to him. “Not if you work real hard.” But Kitty still had her doubts, both about her son and the man they were dedicating the next weeks to. But they were committed now. “We’ll need our personal things from the truck,” she said to Oakes.
“I’ll have my deputy run them out to you later. But I’ll take you to Campbell’s place now so you can settle in.”
Kitty walked to the door with Adam reluctantly beside her. When she looked over her shoulder to say goodbye to Mrs. Oakes, the woman appeared quite satisfied with the arrangements. Blissfully so.
* * *
AFTER A TWENTY-MINUTE ride in the patrol car down a narrow, two-lane road, Kitty was beginning to wonder if they were ever going to get to the home of Sheriff Oakes’s nephew. But the scenery was beautiful—summertime green and lush—and she found herself relaxing despite her misgivings and listening to Sheriff Oakes’s description of Sorrel Gap history.
The town had begun to thrive as a tourist destination once the four-lane road called the Spooner County Expressway opened in 1980. Before that, this narrow highway, which Oakes told her was called Old Sorrel Gap Road, was truly nestled in the elbow of two ridges of foothills rising from each side.
Kitty expected to see lavish homes bordering the country road, so she was surprised when they drove past an abandoned gas station and a couple of vacant clapboard buildings. “How much farther?” she asked the sheriff.
He pointed to a vague spot in the distance. “The Saddle Top Motel’s just over that rise.”
A motel? Good news. She and Adam wouldn’t be alone with Oakes’s nephew after all. There would be guests and employees around. When the car crested the hill, she spied a tall metal pole with a rusted oval sign on top. Then she saw the motel—a one-story brick building baking in the noon sun like a sedentary caterpillar. The sign on top of the pole proclaimed its identity.
Kitty made out the faded image of what might have been an engaging old cowpoke in chaps and stocking cap—years ago. His arm jerked crazily up and down in the wind, pointing first at the sky and then at the faded words, Saddle Top Mountain Motel. All of the letters
