The Taming of Billy Jones Read online

  She decided not to. She didn't really believe he'd hurt Oggie. Billy might be a hooligan by nature, but he didn't seem the type to brutalize a helpless old man. Besides, Oggie wasn't really all that helpless. He had four big, strong sons who lived in town. And if his sons couldn't save him, his quick tongue surely would. Billy would confront the old man, work off a little steam with shouting and swearing, and then he'd return – which was what she should be thinking about: Billy's return here. And how, exactly, she intended to handle it.

  Because he clearly planned on staying a while. And she had no one to blame but herself for that. She had invited him, after all.

  She started for the stairs. She still had some unpacking to do from the move, and she wanted to clean the bathroom up there. She would put away the last of her things and then get down on her hands and knees and scrub the bathroom tiles. She could decide how to proceed with Billy while she worked.

  * * *

  Billy was already back in the Jeep and heading for Main Street

  again before he realized he should have tried to get Oggie's address out of Prue. During those memorable evenings when the old man had followed him around Bad Billy's trying to convince him to join the family fold, Oggie had babbled a lot about his four sons and his daughter, their spouses and their children, about his niece named Evie and his granddaughter, Heather, who happened to be married to the world-famous horror writer, Lucas Drury. Thanks to the old man's incessant jabbering, Billy had learned more than he ever wanted to know about the Joneses of North Magdalene.

  Unfortunately neither a phone number nor an address had been included in the torrent of information Oggie had unleashed on him. Since Billy had never intended to get near North Magdalene or its surplus of Joneses, not having an address hadn't mattered much at the time.

  But now, he needed one.

  So he went to the little coffee shop on Main Street

  : Lily's Café. Usually, in a small town, all the gossips hung out at the café. He could ask there about his dear old uncle, Oggie Jones. Some talkative soul would be more than happy to fill him in. He slid on his Resistol and settled his shades over his eyes before he went in.

  Everybody turned and looked when he pushed open the café door. For a moment, he knew how Garth Brooks must feel. He spotted the two pillars of society he'd watched crossing the street earlier. They sat in a back booth, sipping tea and giving him the evil eye. He felt sure they would know where he might find his uncle, but he doubted they'd tell him if he asked.

  A man at the counter let out a hoot right then. "Well, I'll be hornswoggled. Another damn Jones. Even with them sunglasses on, there's no missin' that look."

  The waitress, a big, motherly type, leaned across the counter and told the man, "Rocky, why don't you just toddle back on over to the Hole in the Wall."

  "Can't," Rocky muttered in bleary regret. "Eden's over there now. She says get sober." He held out his coffee cup. "Fill 'er up." The waitress looked at him with equal parts affection and disapproval. He sighed, "Please?"

  Eden, Billy was thinking. That would be one of Oggie's daughters-in-law. More of the old codger's ramblings came back to him. The family owned a bar and restaurant: the Hole in the Wall and the Mercantile Grill. Billy realized he'd driven by them more than once now. They were across the street and down a few doors, past the post office.

  Billy slid onto the stool next to the drunk. "Hey, Rocky."

  "Hey, yourself," Rocky said. "You are a Jones, ain't you?"

  "I sure am."

  "Which one?"

  "Billy Jones. I'm a nephew of Oggie's."

  The waitress poured Rocky's coffee, then held the pot toward Billy.

  He turned his cup up and she filled it. "Thanks." He pulled a five from his pocket and slid it across the counter. "That'll do it." Ignoring the continued hush in the place, Billy picked up the cup and took a sip.

  Rocky sipped, too, with some effort, since his hand was a mite shaky. "You Evie's brother or what?"

  "No, my father was Nathaniel. I think Evie's father might have been Gideon."

  "Right," said Rocky. "Gideon." He shook his head. "Died in prison, did you know?"

  "I think Oggie mentioned that." Hell, Oggie might have mentioned that. He'd mentioned just about everything else, for God's sakes.

  Rocky lifted his cup again, then set it down and lowered his mouth to the rim. He slurped in a sip.

  The waitress, who had taken Billy's money to the cash register, marched over and slapped Billy's change on the counter. "Here you go."

  "Keep it," Billy said.

  "Thanks." She slid the change into her palm and dropped it into an apron pocket.

  "Yeah," Rocky was saying. "Crazy old Gideon. Died in the slammer. But Oggie gave him a real purty funeral right here, at the church, back just a few months ago. Buried him right here, too, in the North Magdalene cemetery."

  Billy decided it was time to cut to the big question. "Speaking of Oggie. I wonder, do you know where I can find him?"

  Rocky's seamed face split in a gap-toothed grin. "Sure. The Hole in the Wall. The back room."

  "He's there right now?"

  "Ten minutes ago, he was."

  Billy took one more sip, then set down the cup and slid off his stool. "Thanks, Rocky."

  Rocky went on grinning. "Hey. You betcha. You take care a yourself now, Billy."

  "I'll do that." Billy tipped his hat to the waitress. "Great coffee, ma'am." The waitress folded her arms across her middle, leaned back on the service counter behind her and granted him an itty-bitty nod.

  He headed for the door, feeling about ten pairs of eyes burning holes in the back of his shirt. At the last minute, he turned, took off the sunglasses and hung them on his breast pocket. The two biddies in the back were looking right at him – as he had known they would be.

  He gave them a slow grin. "You ladies have a real nice afternoon."

  The skinny one stared and the big one blinked. He kept up the grin as he pulled the door open and went out.

  Two minutes later, he was pushing back the swinging doors and entering the Hole in the Wall. It was dim inside, as a bar should be. Billy stood for a moment, letting his eyes adjust. As they did, he saw dark wood walls and small round tables with bentwood chairs grouped around them. Three men sat at the bar to his left, sipping drinks, saying nothing. Beyond the bar lay a narrow hall – to a back exit, it looked like. To the right of the hall, about midway along the wall, hung a heavy green curtain. The way to the back room, Billy had no doubt.

  "What can I do for you?"

  Billy looked toward the voice, which had come from behind the long bar. A tall, rangy character stood there. A familiar character, who resembled the guy Billy saw in the mirror whenever he bothered to look.

  "You Jared?" Billy asked.

  "You Billy?"

  They both said, "Yeah," at the same time.

  "The old man's been expecting you," Jared said.

  Billy wondered what that meant. He had an urge to ask, but thought that might put him at a disadvantage, so he said nothing.

  Jared offered, "Beer?"

  Billy shrugged. He might be here to grind the old man's bones to dust, but he could take a minute for a cold one first. "Yeah."

  "Bud?"

  "Fine." Billy slid on up to the bar.

  Jared filled a mug and set it down. Billy moved to pull out some bills.

  "On the house," Jared said.

  "Thanks." Billy drank, not stopping until he'd drained the mug. When he was done, he set it down.

  "Refill?"

  "That'll do it. For now."

  A woman came through a door behind the bar. She had short strawberry-colored hair and carried a cash drawer, which she put in the ornate old-style National cash register. She stopped at one point and shared an intimate look with Jared. Billy decided that she must be Jared's wife, Eden, the one who had sent Rocky across the street to sober up.

  "I'm going on home now," she said to Jared.


  He nodded and she disappeared through the door again. Two of the men at the bar got up and went over to the pool table, which stood about five feet in front of the green curtain. They began racking up balls. The third man remained on his stool, staring morosely into his beer. He was a giant of a man, broad-shouldered and deep-chested, with red-gold hair clubbed into a ponytail down his back.

  "My brother-in-law, Sam Fletcher," Jared said of the long-haired giant. Billy and Sam Fletcher nodded at each other, then Jared added, "Listen, if you're looking for the old man, he's not here."

  Billy asked, "Where'd he go?"

  "Back to the house, I think," said Sam.

  Billy turned to the big man. "The house?"

  "Our house. Delilah's and mine."

  Delilah, Billy thought. Sam and Delilah. Real cute. Then he realized what the giant had just told him. "Wait a minute," he said in disbelief. "You live with that old snake oil salesman?"

  Sam's expression remained carefully blank. "He lives with us."

  Billy shook his head. "My condolences."

  Sam nodded, looking weary.

  Billy asked, "You think you could tell me how to get to that house of yours?"

  Sam and Jared exchanged a look. Then Sam shrugged. "You go down to Bullfinch Lane

  . Hang right. Cross Sweet Spring Way

  . Our house is in the middle of the next block." He named an address.

  "Thanks," Billy said.

  "No problem."

  Billy decided he liked both of these men and owed them the respect of honesty. "I guess you should know that I'm not feelin' real friendly. That old geezer has pushed me too far."

  Jared shook his head, his expression regretful. "He's my father. I know how he gets." Sam didn't say anything. His eyes said it all.

  Right then, the phone behind the bar rang.

  Jared picked it up. "The Hole in the Wall." He listened. "Hold on." He held out the phone to Sam. "It's that new clerk of yours."

  Sam took the phone. "Hi, Sharlee. Yeah. All right. I'm on my way." He gave the phone back to Jared and stood.

  Jared said, "What's with her, anyway? She can't handle that store alone for ten minutes?"

  "She's new. She needs the benefit of my expertise."

  "She's got a thing for you," Jared said quietly. "People have noticed. They're starting to talk."

  "People can go to hell." Sam headed for the door. Billy and Jared watched him go out. Then Jared dumped out the rest of Sam's beer, wiped the counter and washed the mug.

  Billy said, "I'm gonna check the back room, just in case."

  Jared shrugged. "Suit yourself."

  Billy strode over and looked behind the curtain. He saw a felt-topped table with a hooded light above it, ashtrays, a few cigar stubs, but no Oggie. Satisfied, he turned for the door.

  At the house on Bullfinch Lane

  , he knocked and got no answer. He'd turned for his Jeep again when a black-haired woman pulled up in a hatchback car. He waited on the step while she got out and came toward him.

  "I'm Delilah. May I help you?" She was small and curvy. Her dark eyes told a man he'd better not mess. Billy found himself pondering the call from Sam's clerk and the cryptic remarks Jared had made. He had a feeling that if Sam didn't watch it, little Delilah would be clipping his hair but good.

  Not that it meant a damn thing to Billy personally. "I'm Billy Jones – your cousin?"

  She smiled then. "Oh, yes. Father said you just might be coming to town."

  I'll bet he did, Billy thought. "Yeah. Well. Here I am. Got any idea where I might find your father?"

  Delilah said he could try Evie's – either the shop she owned on Main Street

  or her and Erik's house, over on Pine. Or then again, Oggie might have gone to Patrick and Regina's, which was right next door to Evie and Erik's. Or possibly to Jared and Eden's, way out on River Road

  . Or Brendan and Amy's. Or even Jack and Olivia's.

  Using the directions Delilah had given him, Billy went to each house. He struck out every time. But he did end up meeting a passel of relatives. He found it a sobering experience, all those cousins and their wives and kids, and all within about a three-mile radius.

  By the time he finally gave up and wandered back to the Hole in the Wall, it was after five in the evening. And he was ready for another Bud.

  Jared poured one without having to be told. Billy murmured thanks. Then Jared said, "By the way, the old man's been here the whole damn time." He slid the beer to Billy. "Just stepped out to take a whizz, that was all."

  Billy swore low, with feeling, then drained the mug. Down the bar, he saw the drunk from the café, Rocky. He nodded. Woozily, Rocky lifted his glass in a salute.

  Billy asked Jared. "He in back?"

  Jared nodded.

  Billy turned for the green curtain.

  * * *

  Chapter 6

  « ^ »

  "Hey, boy, good to see ya," the old man chortled.

  He sat at the felt-clothed table, a shot of whiskey at his elbow, a cigar clamped between his teeth and five cards in his hand. He waved his cigar at the other three men around the table and reeled off their names.

  "I want to talk to you," Billy said. "Alone."

  Oggie chortled some more and flicked his ash. "All right, all right. Just let me finish this hand."

  Billy stood waiting as the bets went around the table. Oggie pulled in the pile after the rest of them laid down. Then, one by one, the other men got up and left.

  A long silence followed. In the middle of it, Jared came through the curtain. He set a bottle on the table and a clean shot glass beside it. Then he went back out to the main room again.

  Oggie filled the glass Jared had brought and then refilled his own. "Sit," he said. "Drink."

  Billy stayed on his feet. But he did pick up the glass and knock its contents down his throat. It was smooth and hot going down. Good stuff.

  Oggie said, "So. I suppose you got a longing to rearrange my face."

  Billy did. But he wouldn't act on it. He had never intended to act on it. It had been fun, though, telling himself – and Prue – that he would.

  Oggie shrugged and puffed some more on his cigar. The smoke trailed and curled in the light of the hooded lamp over the table. "I could call the boys back in. We could play a few hands. Have a few drinks. A few laughs."

  Billy said, "I told you to stay away from my kid."

  "So. Now you admit he's your kid."

  "Yeah. He's my kid and he's none of your damn business."

  "He's a Jones. That makes him my business. The way I look at it, I only did what needed to be done." Clamping the cigar firmly between his teeth, Oggie began gathering up the cards from around the table. "And I don't mind tellin' you, I'm glad to be home. I was gettin' real tired of followin' you around that club of yours." He picked up the last card, then began to shuffle the deck. "I got bored with waltzin' the help all the time, puttin' on the charm. It was gettin' old, you know? I was longin' to be back here where people have to put up with me just 'cause I'm me. And I sure as hell wasn't getting through to you. But then, I saw that kid. I saw my chance. And I took it. Talk to anyone in this town. They'll tell you. Oggie Jones ain't a man to miss his chance. So. You want in the card game, or not?"

  Just then, someone put a quarter in the jukebox. "Up Against the Wall, Redneck Mothers" came on. A true classic by Ray Wiley Hubbard, sung by Jerry Jeff Walker himself.

  Oggie slapped the deck on the table. "Cut."

  Billy cut. Then he went over to the curtain and looked out into the main room. The men who had just left the card game were lined up at the bar. Billy caught the eye of one of them and signaled with a jerk of his head. One by one, they got up, walked around the pool table and came back through the curtain. They took the same seats they'd had before.

  Oggie began to deal. "The game is five-card draw."

  Billy slid into the vacant chair.

  * * *

  A nice dinner, Prudenc
e decided. She would fix Billy a nice dinner, and afterward, they would talk. They would talk reasonably, calmly. About what his expectations were. About what he wanted from this visit and how long he intended to stay.

  Jesse sat in his high chair, gurgling and gumming crackers, while Prudence bustled around the kitchen. She prepared her favorite chicken casserole, one made with lemons and rice. It was very low fat and healthy, but also quite tasty, too. She cut up broccoli and put it in the steamer, all ready to go. She made a nice salad.

  While the casserole was cooking, she bathed Jesse and read him a Dr. Seuss story, using lots of facial and vocal expression. Even at his age, he seemed to listen and understand. She firmly believed that you couldn't start too young when it came to reading to a child.

  The casserole was finished at six-thirty. But Billy had not returned. Prudence left the food in the oven to stay warm and took Jesse up to her room. There, he played with blocks on the floor while she sat at her computer, redesigning her résumé for about the fifth time.

  Prudence was a C.P.A. Even while working for her sister, she'd kept up her continuing ed and renewed her license every year. She had thought, when she moved to North Magdalene, that she might find a job with a local firm. But North Magdalene had a population under 250. Even in the larger towns of Grass Valley and Nevada City, C.P.A.s weren't in great demand. Fiddling with her résumé had become a sort of game to her, really. A way to start thinking of how she might make some kind of job for herself here. Eventually, when Jesse got a little older, she'd probably start a small bookkeeping service, just to keep her hand in.

  Not that she'd ever need money. She'd made plenty and invested well while she worked for Randi. Then Randi had left her a small fortune when she died. And then there was Jesse's huge inheritance, which was always available if they needed it.

  Prudence glanced at her program clock: almost seven-thirty. She was starting to wonder if something might have happened to Billy. Maybe he had gone too far with Oggie, after all. Perhaps Oggie's four big sons had been forced to step in. Billy could be over at the town clinic right now, getting patched up by Will Bacon, the practical nurse who handled all the local medical emergencies.