The Banty House Read online

  “No. I don’t think that’s why she was there,” Ginger answered. “She was bad-mouthing your mother.”

  “My head hurts. I can’t think or talk about that now. Why am I in the hospital? Dear Lord,” she gasped when she noticed her arm. “Did I break it?”

  “Yes, you’re in the hospital, and your arm is only sprained. You’ll have to keep it in a sling for a few weeks.” Ginger continued to answer questions. “You fell in the kitchen, hit your head on the floor, and hurt your arm. You have a concussion and several stitches in the back of your head, and you’ve got a big bruise on your shinbone.”

  Betsy’s hand went to the bandage on the back of her head. “Did they shave my hair off?”

  “Just a little bit. You can wear a hat to church and no one will even notice,” Ginger assured her. “Right now, you just have to rest and get better so you can go home.”

  “Why did I fall?” Betsy looked up at Ginger.

  “Seems you and Edith had a fight, and you stumbled and fell backwards,” Ginger explained.

  “She pushed me, didn’t she?” Betsy closed her eyes and the snoring began again.

  “I’m kind of surprised that she even said that,” Sloan said. “Sometimes folks with concussions can’t recall things that happened twenty-four hours before.”

  A couple of minutes later she opened her eyes, scanned the room until she found Ginger, and asked, “Did we go to church this morning?”

  “Yes, we did,” Ginger answered.

  “Good, then God will forgive me for tryin’ to kill Edith,” she said, and then her eyes closed again.

  “We never got a chance to talk about church this morning. Did it make you uncomfortable to be there?” Ginger asked Sloan.

  He shook his head slowly from side to side. “I dreaded going in those doors, Ginger.” He felt as if he could bare his very soul to her, almost as if God, Himself, had sent an angel to Hondo for the Carson sisters to discover. Other than his team members, who were like brothers to him, he’d never felt so comfortable with anyone. “The last time I was in church was for my granny’s funeral. God took her away from me when I had already lost all my buddies. God was too unfair. But today, right on that pew, it was almost like she was right there with me. I liked the feeling. I don’t know why I’ve stayed away so long.”

  “Did you pay attention to the hymns?” she asked. “The first one we sang said to simply trust every day and to trust all through the storm.”

  “Trust is a bit of an issue for me,” he said.

  “Me too, as you can imagine, but whether you call it destiny, God, or Fate, I think I was brought to Rooster for a reason. I got to be friends with a woman in the last café where I worked. I’ve never met a person with stronger faith. She was always telling me that destiny would not take me anywhere where the hand of God would not protect me,” Ginger said.

  “Do you ever intend to go back and see her?” Sloan asked.

  “No, she died and the owners closed it down soon afterwards. Customers expected food like she made, and well, she was gone. I would go see her if she was alive, though. I really loved her.” Ginger wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “She reminded me of Betsy. She loved to cook and was kind of round.” She clamped a hand over her mouth. “That was rude. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that Betsy was ugly. I love her so much that I don’t care what size”—she shook her head—“I’m just diggin’ myself deeper into a hole.”

  “Did I hear my name?” Betsy roused again and looked out the window. “It’s dark. How many days have I been in this place?”

  “You just got here this afternoon,” Sloan answered.

  “And you might get out tomorrow,” Ginger said.

  “Where’s Kate and Connie? Did Edith hurt them, too? Are they in another room? Dammit to hell, Sloan! Go tell the doctor to put them in here with me. I don’t even care if Connie smokes in here. Just bring them in here with me.”

  “They are fine,” Ginger said in a soothing voice, patting her arm.

  “They were here until just a little while ago. They went home to get some rest. Do you want me to call them?” Sloan took his phone from his pocket.

  “Lord, no!” Betsy moaned. “They need their rest. Oh. My. Goodness.” She gasped. “Neither of them can cook. They’ll burn down my kitchen if they try.”

  “Don’t you worry.” Sloan got up and stood beside the bed. “I’ll go get them in the morning and take them out to breakfast before I bring them to see you.”

  “And I’ll cook when we get home,” Ginger said.

  “I’m only half a mile down the road, and I can be there in two minutes anytime you need me,” Sloan offered.

  Home had been many different places to Ginger—last count maybe as many as twenty—but the word had never really felt right coming out of her mouth until that moment. Maybe going to California wasn’t such a big deal after all. She felt like she was needed right there in Medina County, Texas, and it was pretty nice to have that kind of feeling.

  She glanced at Sloan, who smiled at her and nodded. The warm feeling that wrapped itself around her heart was far more than friendship. Who would have thought she’d find family and possibly love right here in Rooster?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Betsy awoke with a headache the next morning, but other than that she seemed to be feeling okay and thinking clearly. When Ginger questioned her, she even remembered the fight with Edith. Ginger started to ask her what she meant when she said she’d lost her once and didn’t want to lose her again, but on second thought, she decided it would be better to wait until they were alone in the kitchen together.

  Just as Ginger had said, when Connie and Kate arrived that morning, the three of them were still talking about the confrontation with Edith—only this time in even more detail. Getting all the spotty parts of Betsy’s memory filled in took almost an hour, and then they moved on to the subject of how they’d manage the next few weeks.

  “There’s nothin’ sayin’ that I can’t sit in the kitchen and supervise Ginger. She’s picked up a lot this past week, and she’s already better at cookin’ than either one of y’all,” Betsy said.

  “What about your jam business?” Sloan got up from a chair and stretched. “I’ve helped you with that so much, I could probably take care of it with a little help from Ginger.”

  Ginger could only imagine how many kinks he might have in his back and neck after sleeping on the other chair all night. Her body ached in places she hadn’t even been aware that she had.

  “It will be put on hold. Cooking is enough for Ginger in her condition, and you’ve got other things to do. There’s a supply built up already down in the basement,” Betsy said.

  Ginger was elated that Betsy could make decisions and remember what had happened. She’d seen a few folks that were younger than Betsy who hadn’t popped back as fast.

  “Thank you,” Connie and Kate said at the same time.

  Dr. Emerson poked his head in the room in the middle of the morning and said, “I hear you had quite a dustup yesterday. Did you know that Edith has filed a restraining order against you? The sheriff’s deputy will probably bring it to you when you go home later today.”

  “Well, if that ain’t good news,” Betsy said. “Now she’ll stay away from the Banty House, and, Doc, that was just round one. When the fight’s over, I’ll bet you a pint of Kate’s apple pie and a nickel bag of my best product I’ll be the winner.”

  “I wouldn’t bet against you for anything,” Doc said with a laugh and came on into the room. “I looked at your X-rays and everything looks good. I will want to see you in my office in a week to check on your arm and leg. Stay off the leg and keep it propped. Don’t try to lift anything with the arm. I’ll probably take the stitches out of your head when I see you again.”

  “That mean I can go home?” Betsy asked.

  “After two o’clock,” Doc said. “I want you to be here a full twenty-four hours.”

  “You just want to charge me for
another day in this bed,” Betsy accused him.

  He threw up his hands. “Busted! See you in a week, but I’ll see you on Thursday.” He pointed at Ginger. “Why don’t you bring old cranky pants here with you, and I’ll change that bandage then?”

  “We’ll be there.” Ginger smiled. “But after calling her that, I’d run real fast if I was you.”

  “Good advice.” Doc started toward the door and then turned around to say, “I’ll let the nurse know to discharge you after two o’clock.”

  He stopped at the door and winked at Ginger. “I was so worried about her when she got here. I’ve treated all of the sisters for years. They remind me of my old aunts, who I don’t get to see very often but who would probably take a switch to me for talking about them like this to strangers.” He waved and left the room.

  “If he’d been here last night, he would’ve let me go home,” Betsy complained.

  “Then thank God he wasn’t,” Kate argued, “because me and Connie wouldn’t have slept a wink for worrying about you.”

  Connie put in her two cents. “You caused us to miss our Sunday-afternoon nap, and now I’m a day behind with my cleaning.”

  “I didn’t cause jack crap.” Betsy glared at her sister through the rails on the side of the hospital bed. “Blame Edith, not me. If she’d kept her skinny butt at home where she belonged, then I wouldn’t be here.”

  Kate flashed a grin, deepening the crow’s-feet around her eyes. “Oh, but if she hadn’t brought those old love letters, we wouldn’t know her secret, now, would we? I just wonder what our own Preacher James would think if he found out his biological father wasn’t Max Wilson.”

  Connie pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. “You know very well that we’ll never tell him or anyone else. Mama didn’t believe in spreading gossip.”

  Betsy held up a finger to get their attention. “But Edith doesn’t know that, does she?”

  “You got that right, Sister.” Kate nodded.

  “She won’t be coming to your house anymore, sure, but y’all do realize that if she really did file a restraining order against you, then you can’t be in the any of the same buildings with her,” Sloan said. “How’s that going to affect you going to church on Sunday?”

  Kate gasped. “Well, I’ll be damned. She filed that so we wouldn’t be around James. She thinks we’re as petty as she is when it comes to rumors. Now what are we goin’ to do about church? I promised Mama that we’d always go on Sunday morning.”

  Ginger stood to her feet and wiggled her head from side to side to get the stiffness from her neck. “When I decided to go to church, I didn’t go to just one—churches are pretty much all alike anyway but for the singin’, Kate. Next Sunday, let’s just get in the car and pick out one here in Hondo. We passed at least a dozen coming to the hospital. That way, you won’t break your promise to your mama.”

  “Or get thrown in jail for violating a restraining order,” Sloan told her.

  “You really are an angel,” Betsy whispered. “God sent you to us for sure, and she’s right, Kate. We can drive into town and pick out a different one every week.”

  Connie chuckled.

  “What’s so funny?” Ginger asked.

  “Number one.” Connie held up a finger. “We’ll never be able to agree on which one, so we better all decide right now that we take turns on choosing. Number two”—another finger shot up—“do you think for one minute that James is going to let us take the money we put in the offering plate on Sunday elsewhere? He’ll be around to the Banty House to talk to us if we stop giving our dues. Y’all do know that what we give the church at the end of each year pays his salary and what we donate on Sunday keeps the electricity bill paid.”

  Sloan started to say something, but he changed his mind and walked over to the doorway. His grandmother had been a big contributor to the church when she was alive, and Preacher James had come to talk to him when he stopped attending services. He remembered the day well. The preacher had told him he shouldn’t blame himself for what had happened. Sloan had listened to him talk for a while, and then he’d simply walked out of the house. Rude or not, he couldn’t listen to the man trying to talk him back into church—not when the hurt was still so raw.

  “Do we go from oldest to youngest like we always have?” Kate was saying.

  “For what?” Ginger asked.

  “For choosing a church house each Sunday morning,” Kate explained.

  “Since it’s Ginger’s idea, I vote that we reverse the order. She chooses the first week and then we go from the youngest of us to the oldest,” Betsy said.

  Sloan didn’t care where they went to church or even if they went. He could be close to God sitting on his front porch with Tinker.

  “I agree.” Connie covered a yawn with her hand. “I need caffeine. I’m going out to find a coffee machine. Anyone else want a cup?”

  “I’ll go get all of us a cup,” Ginger offered. “Anything else y’all want? I’ve got peanut butter, apples, and pickles in the bag over there.” She pointed toward the small vanity between the two closets.

  “A candy bar for each of us.” Kate handed her several dollar bills. “Coffee is free in the lobby, and there’s a little gift store right there where you can get candy bars for a lot less than the vending machine charges.”

  Ginger shook her head. “I’ve got a debit card now, so I’ll get them.” She hurried past Sloan and started down the hallway. As he leaned to watch her go, he noticed a suspicious-looking man carrying a duffel bag down the hall. The guy turned his head away from every camera in the hallway. He wore a baseball cap and sunglasses, even though he was in the building.

  Terrorist! Sloan thought and then scolded himself for even thinking such a thing. But he trailed the guy all the same—just to be sure.

  Every nerve ending in Sloan’s body was on full alert. The last time he’d felt like that was when he’d gone into a burned-out building to disarm a bomb. Fear, anxiety, and nerves all balled up together inside him, and when he had that feeling, something was terribly wrong.

  Then the guy tucked the duffel bag inside a janitor’s closet and took off running toward the other end of the hall. Sloan eased the door open and carefully unzipped the bag to find a bomb inside it. He shut the door behind him and then started jogging down the hallway to report it to the nearest nurse, doctor, or even janitor.

  The few times that he had left the room earlier, the nurses seemed to be pretty calm and collected. Now they were hurrying down the long hall, stopping at each room just long enough in each to say a few words and then closing the door. He was trying to track a nurse down when he noticed one talking to Ginger.

  “Get back to whatever room you were in,” she said.

  “Why?” Ginger asked.

  “For your own protection,” she said and kept going.

  “Did someone already report something?” he asked the nurse.

  “Someone called in a threat,” she answered with a nod.

  “It’s more than a threat. I just now found a bag in the janitor’s closet right down there.” He turned to Ginger. “We’ve got to get you out of this hall and into Betsy’s room. They’re going to have to evacuate the hospital, and it’s easier room by room.”

  “Why?” she asked again. “And what’s in the closet?”

  “A bomb,” he whispered.

  “Did you check the bag?” she asked.

  “There’s a bomb in it. Not big enough to level the hospital, but it could do some serious damage to this floor and especially to the rooms on either side of that closet,” he said.

  “Go dismantle it,” she said.

  “That’s not my job.” He guided her toward Betsy’s room.

  A man in a three-piece suit passed them, and Ginger grabbed his arm. “Do you work at this hospital?” she asked.

  “Yes, I do,” he said. “I’m Warren, and I’m the head of security. You two need to be out of this hallway.”

  “Did someone call in a bomb
threat?” she asked.

  “How did you know that, and who are you?” Warren narrowed his eyes at her.

  “Because this man is my . . . my . . . ,” she stammered.

  “I’m former military and I saw a man put a bag in the closet down at the end of this hallway. I checked it and there is definitely a bomb in there, sir,” Sloan said.

  “He defused bombs in the military. He can help you if you’ll trust him. How long will it take to get a bomb squad in here?” she asked.

  “They’re in San Antonio right now, so maybe thirty to forty-five minutes,” he answered and looked right at Sloan. “You really qualified to do that?”

  “Maybe . . . I don’t know . . . but I’ll be glad to look at it closer.” Sloan wasn’t sure that he could control his shaking hands enough to disarm even the simplest bomb. He hadn’t even looked at one since the day before he’d lost his buddies.

  “Okay, son, let’s go take a look at it,” he said. “I don’t know why they’d call in the threat if they really wanted to harm anyone.”

  “Maybe it’s someone that knows what’s going on and why, and can’t live with their conscience if they let it happen.” Sloan led the way down the hall to the closet. He opened the door and dropped to his knees. “It’s enough to take out three or four rooms of this place, and it’s on a timer. If your people can’t get here in about”—Sloan looked at the bomb’s timer—“fifteen minutes, it will explode. Who’s in those two rooms on either side of the closet?”

  “A judge who’s scheduled for surgery later today is in one, and the room on the other side is empty,” Warren told him.

  “Then I’d guess this isn’t terrorism, but someone who’s got a beef with the judge. You probably need to move him to another room or out.”

  Ginger laced her fingers in Sloan’s and looked up at Warren’s worried face. “Listen to him. He spent time in Kuwait taking care of situations worse than this.” Then she turned to focus on him. “You can do this. I have faith in you,” she whispered.

  “All right,” Warren said. “I may have the legal department down on me later today, but I’m going to believe you and your wife. What do you need from me?”