Page 2 of Something Has To Give

A strange look came over her then. Her eyes flicked from him to his military picture on the wall just past his shoulder. Something that seemed to him like one part nervousness andguilt quickly buried beneath nine parts stubborn defiance moved across her features.

“Elsie Redding,” she said fiercely. When her eyes snapped back to his, they flashed mahogany fire. “And I’ve got two words for you, buster: Squatter’s Rights!”

* * * * *

Elsie Redding always knew that someday the other shoe would drop, and here it was. Someday had arrived, and there—standing in the front yard, yelling at the Uintah County sheriff—was the other shoe—Captain Quint Rydecker. Of all the dilapidated, abandoned houses, why did she have to pick one belonging to a man who’d only been away in the military?

In the back of her mind, the tiny voice of her conscience—a voice she had tried really hard these last eight months not to listen to—whispered, “If you’d known, would you have done it any differently?”

The answer was, probably not.

She’d been living here now almost eight months. Sometimes it felt like a dream. Sometimes it was hard to remember what it had felt like; all that desperation, driving down I-40 with nothing in the rearview mirror but a mountain of debts, a lot of bad decisions, and the kind of man that left a girl with nothing but a drained bank account. She’d put every penny she’d had into the gas tank and, with no clear destination in mind and no idea what she was supposed to do once she got there, Elsie’s entire plan for escape had come down to one simple ill-thought-out step: Drive until you run out of gas.

So that’s what she did. And when the engine finally ran out of fumes, sputtered and died, it wasn’t another town that she found herself stuck in. It was the middle of God-awful nowhere, with miles and miles of scrub-littered nothingness stretching on for miles before her, behind her, and all to her left. On her right were the remnants of mountains so eroded now that long linesof rocky formations bowed up out of the ground like the giant backbones of creatures frozen in the act of diving into the dirt and clay. Two of those creatures were diving right up beside the road, passing one right beside the other and creating a steep rock chasm, so deep between them that, in an instant she knew, nothing that fell in would ever claw its way out again.

In that moment, that one, tiny, half-thought-out moment, she was tempted to test that theory. All she would have had to do was step off the road, walk three or so steps down the steep embankment to where the ground just fell away and jump.

No one would ever have found her.

But of course, she didn’t jump. What she had done instead, was put her car in neutral, hold the steering wheel with one hand and push with her shoulder against the car frame until gravity took over. She still harbored hope that enough dirt and rocks had come crashing down on top of her car to ensure no one would ever find it.

Then she just started walking.

To this day, she had no idea how far she must have gone or how many of those overgrown dirt roads she’d passed before she realized the sun was going down, that she hadn’t seen another car all day long, and that it was starting to get cold. Absolutely no thought went into her decision to veer off the road and keep walking out into the desert brush. By the time she saw the house, the sun was almost gone. No lights were on in any windows. No one looked to be at home. By the time she was close enough to climb the front porch steps, she’d known no one had been home for quite some time. There was too much dust on the windows for anyone to be living here. At least, that’s what she’d thought right up until she touched the door and it simply opened up.

Who would leave a house and not lock up? She remembered thinking that very clearly as she’d pushed the door open and taken her first hesitant step inside. What’s more, why wouldsomeone leave it fully furnished, with canned foods still on the pantry shelves, clothes hanging in the closets, and the power and water still working?

Elsie remembered walking back outside in a strange state. She’d sat down on the front porch and waited, and waited, until long after the sun went down and the absolute darkness of country life settled over the juniper and scrub. She’d waited, expecting at any second to see headlights coming up the long driveway, but none ever had. It got very cold that night. She’d held out, shivering, for as long as she could before walking back inside and closing the door. For several days, she’d pretty much lived on the center cushion of the couch, waiting for someone to come home, but no one ever had. Eventually, she’d stopped waiting. Eventually, she made herself at home.

For eight months.

And now, Captain Quint Rydecker was home and she was just supposed to walk away? Leave everything she had built up for herself? Quietly accept the fact that she had nothing—no money, no home, no future—all over again?

Arms folded across her chest, Elsie stared out the window, hating the man now pacing up and down in front of the sheriff, casting angry glares back at the house. Through the window, she couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, but that didn’t matter. Captain Rydecker had abandoned this house. It was hers now and she wasn’t leaving. Wherever he’d been these last eight months, he could just take himself right back. And if he refused to leave voluntarily…well, her eyes narrowed to stubborn slits, it might take a day—two at most—but she was good at getting rid of pests. Like the bats she’d found roosting in the attic and pantry, Elsie was going to get rid of him too.

Chapter Two

“But this is my house!” Quint shouted, thumping at his chest with both hands. “Mine!” By all accounts, such power displays worked well for apes; humans, not so much. Sheriff Buster Harlowe stood stoically chewing his gum and didn’t seem much impressed. “I’m giving you permission, for God’s sake! Why can’t you drag her ass out of there? Arrest her for trespassing—or something! Do your damn job, man!”

Sliding his gaze back to the house, the sheriff continued to chew his gum. “Those look like new curtains,” he finally said.

Quint could feel his temper slip a little at that. He struggled to rein it back in. “Yeah, those are new curtains. Those are new goats out in my field. I’m pretty sure she’s got new chickens around back somewhere because there’s also a new fucking sign at the front of my driveway and posted on the porch! She’s selling eggs and cheese out of my—” he thumped his chest again. “—myhouse!”

“Looks like she’s made herself quite at home.”

Quint threw up both hands in disgust, growled, paced, rubbed his face and finally calmed down enough to come back to thesheriff. “Yeah,” he said again, fighting not to lose his temper all over again. “She sure has. You want to do something about that, or are you just going tostand hereallfucking night!”

The sheriff barely batted an eye. “Sir, I’m going to need you to calm down.”

“Calm down? I just got back from the war to find a woman I don’t knowlivingin my house! How fucking calm wouldyoube?”

“I understand that, sir. But what I’m telling you is, if you keep yelling and making these big arm gestures, I might just start to feel threatened and then I’ll have to arrest you.”

Quint was stunned. “You’re going to arrest me? A stranger moves intomyhouse andI’mthe one who’s going to get arrested?!”

“Sir, you have my sympathies. But while you may own the property, she has established a residence on it. Those signs posted on the driveway and on the porch mean she’s not hiding her occupation from the public. That makes this a civil matter rather than a criminal one, so there’s nothing I can do about it. You’re going to have to take her to court and have her legally evicted if you want her out of your house.”

No longer just stunned now, Quint was floored. He stared at the sheriff, unable to believe what he was hearing. He said as much too. “I can’t believe this.”

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