Chirp(49)

Rance fisted his hands. “What’d I tell you? She takes things wrong.”

“Settle down. She wasn’t talking about herself. She’s not interested in me. Hell, she won’t even let me call her Chirp. Says only you get to do that. You see what’s happening? If you’re not careful, you’re the one who’ll hurt her.”

Those words stabbed like a hot poker because they were already true. But as hard as Rance had tried to make things right, he couldn’t bring her around. And how could he if she wouldn’t come home? He wanted to explain how wrong he was for her, but couldn’t do that without telling her he knew who she was and what she was worth. His snooping would hurt her even more. No, he wanted her to trust him enough to let him in on her secrets.

“I know,” Rance agreed. “And I’m trying to avoid that, but it isn’t working out so well.” He considered telling his brother everything about her, but going behind her back would be a mistake.

Seth followed Rance to the back porch, then gazed across the pond at a line of turtles on a log taking in the sunshine. “You remember the song Dessie always sang to us when we were kids?”

Rance laughed. “The one with all the gibberish.”

“Yeah. Damn, I love that silly song.”

“Me too.”

For the next two hours, Rance and Seth reminisced about their childhood. Then, just before noon, Nick came home.

“About time you showed up. We decided she must have you tied to the bed,” Rance said.

“Naw. We talked most of the night. Fell asleep on the sofa.”

“What? You didn’t get any?” Rance asked.

“Nope. We made out, but that’s as far as it went. I’ll grab a shower and hit the sack for a few hours.”

“You got plans with her tonight?”

“Yeah. She’s cooking for me. Is that okay? I know I came to visit you, but . . .”

Rance cut him off. “It’s fine, Nicky. Seth told me you haven’t dated in a while, so go for it.”

“Thanks.”

“Hey,” Seth said to Nick. “I guess if I wanted to stay longer, you’d be good with that?”

“Yeah. Do you?”

“Maybe until Wednesday.”

“Works for me.”

“Yeah, I bet it does,” Seth teased.

Once Nick grabbed a couple of hours of shut-eye, he was ready for target practice, so the three of them drove to the far side of the property. Rance hadn’t been here since arriving in Bluebird. Dilapidated remnants of the deer stand he’d built years ago clung to an old oak tree. With his grandpa looking over his shoulder, Rance had killed the only buck he’d ever shot. Seeing the beautiful animal lying dead had turned him against the sport.

Still hunted ducks, quail, and squirrels, but couldn’t bear the thought of killing another deer. He’d gotten the Remington 243 for his thirteenth birthday. Damn, it’d been fifteen years. A lifetime ago.

Old hay rounds lined the back fence. Rance parked the truck, and Nick got out first, announcing, “I have the paper targets. Ordered special for us.” He passed them to Seth.

Seth laughed as he unrolled the package. “You’ve got to be kidding. Zombies?”

Nick cocked his head. “The apocalypse can happen anytime. Besides, the two of you did serious damage to my psyche with all those movies.”

Rance belly laughed. “I’d forgotten how funny that was.”

“Funny, my ass. You tied me to a chair and forced me to watch a trifecta of horror.”

“What were they?”

“Oh, I’ll never forget. Shaun of the Dead, Land of the Dead, and Dawn of the Dead. I didn’t sleep for weeks.”

Seth pinched his cheek. “Poor baby.”

Nick slapped his hand. “Just put up the damn targets and let me show you two how it’s done.” He unzipped his gun case and pulled out his weapon.

“Let me see that,” Rance said. “Looks a little girly up beside my Smith & Wesson.”

“I have you know the Sig Sauer Mosquito is the most popular twenty-two on the market right now,” Nick told them.

Seth hoisted his pistol in the air. “Maybe so, but you can’t go wrong with a Ruger.”

Rance grabbed a bag of cans and put them in place, then joined Nick again, who was stretching his arms and popping his fingers.

“What the hell are you doing?” Seth asked.

Nick glared at Seth. “Loosening up.”

“To pull a trigger? We’re doing target practice, not rock climbing.”

Rance couldn’t remember when he’d enjoyed an afternoon more. Hearing his brothers bust each other’s balls made him happy. When Seth said they might stay longer, he wished they’d stay forever. Seth could open a small private practice in Danvers, and Nicky could coach at the local high school. Neither would ever get rich, but they’d never have ulcers either.

God, he’d missed them. Their visits, along with Gran’s, were all that had kept him going in prison. In the first year, Gran had ridden the bus to Huntsville each month. After that he’d asked her to stop because the eight-hour round trip was too much. Plus he hated she had to see him in that place.

By five o’clock Seth and Nick had conceded to Rance. He’d always been a good shot, but he hadn’t practiced in years, so winning surprised him. He looked at Seth as they came to the edge of the woods.