Paradise Valley (Virgin River #7)(78)

“Now, is that any way for the owner of a church to talk?”

“I just own it, Jack,” she said, pushing up her glasses. “I’m not exactly the religious sort.”

“Is that so?”

“This town could use a little religion, I think.”

“And why is that?”

“Been a long time now, but that church used to be full all the time. Of course, it was full of poor mountain people and there wasn’t any parsonage, so the pastor got himself relocated. Couldn’t hardly feed himself on what poor mountain folk put in the plate. But things have gotten better around here since I was younger. Lotta farmers and ranchers and—” she leveled her gaze at Dan accusingly “—construction workers moved in. They can fill up the collection plate. It’s time to try it again.” She gave Dan a pat on the shoulder and left the bar, scuffling out the door.

Dan looked up at Jack. “That is one strange woman.”

“Oh-ho, she’s peculiar all right. But she’s always thinking about the town. I’d love to get a look at her will. She’s crafty, and I think she must have a ton of money. And no living relatives.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Looking for a wife? Mature woman with big black glasses and mud on her knees?”

Dan laughed. “I don’t think I could drink that one pretty, Jack. But gee, thanks for the tip.”

“How’s it going at the house?”

He sat back. “The landlady showed up today. Now, there’s an interesting woman.”

“She is that.”

“She tells me she was the town drunk,” he said.

“She was,” Jack confirmed. “She got in treatment and seems to be doing great. She’s a whole new person.”

“What was the town drunk like?” Dan asked.

Jack looked upward, thinking. Then he brought his gaze down to Dan’s. “Know what? I’m not going to talk about that. Cheryl is a good person who had a mighty big burden with her drinking. I’ll tell you the truth, I never saw any hope. But I see her now and she’s not the same woman. Honest to God, I would’ve thought that even sober, she’d be a little slow-witted, unmotivated. Damaged. But she seems to have beat the odds—she’s just incredible. I want her to make it.”

“She’s making it,” Dan said. “That’s nice, that you won’t talk about it. Must’ve been kind of bad.”

“Buddy, we’ve all been through bad times we’d like to forget.”

And like an introduction to bad times personified, the door opened and Rick came in, using just a cane for assistance. Dan noticed that Jack frowned before he smiled. “How you doing, son?” he asked.

“Better,” he said, leaning on the cane. “I’m getting used to the cane. Haven’t been on my ass all day.” He sat up at the bar.

Dan turned toward him. “Dan Brady,” he said. “We met once, a long time ago. You might not remember.”

“That’s right,” Jack said suddenly. “The night Paige got snatched! You remember, Rick?”

“Yeah,” Rick said, putting out a hand. “You’re the one who knocked the bad guy out with the flashlight. I’d almost forgotten about that.”

“Sorry about the leg,” Dan said. “You starting to feel okay with the prosthesis yet?”

“Nah, it still hurts some.”

“You watching for breakdown? That can slow you down….”

“You know about this stuff?” Rick asked.

“A little bit. So, you watching that?”

“Not only am I watching it, I go to PT three times a week where they’re watching it. I’m covered. Right now, all I want is to walk without pain.”

“Aw, you’ll get that. Then what?” Dan asked.

“I dunno,” he said. “Jack, what do you think? Think I earned a beer and some dinner?”

“Two conditions. I walk you home and we take something home to your gram.”

“Done,” Rick said, patting the bar.

He was a good nine months away from twenty-one, but he’d lived a lot more than most men his age. And he’d put in a rough week of three PT sessions and two counseling sessions.

“What are you doing around here?” Rick asked Dan.

“Working for Paul Haggerty. What are you going to do? You must have lots of options.”

“I said, I don’t know. Right now, I just have to get a leg. Walk in it. Then maybe I’ll be able to think.”

“There’s always school,” Jack said, putting down a beer and retrieving his coffee cup. “That GI Bill, that’s a great opportunity.”

Rick lifted the beer, took a sip and said, “I’m thinking about it.”

Right away Dan knew, the kid was still depressed and screwed up about the war, the injury, the missing leg. “This little town you got here, Rick—nice little place. I come from down the coast. Sebastapol. Near Bodega Bay. Not exactly a real small town. You grow up here?”

He nodded.

“So, when did you join the Corps?”

Rick looked at Dan. “If it’s okay with you, I don’t feel real talkative right now.”

“It’s all right by me,” Dan said. “Jack, whenever Preacher’s ready with dinner, I’m ready.”