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“You will find nothing that satisfies your desire for facts,” Mrs. P warned back.
****
Esther Ramalarga.
Etta Place.
The dissertation writer knew details about Oscar and Pearl’s exploits yet no clue to Pearl’s whereabouts or mention of a baby. Protecting someone also associated with the gang whose outlaw love died?
And Emmaline Parens didn’t ask.
If I hadn’t had this other stop to make, I would have taken the time to let my head explode.
But I still had my original stop to make.
I went west out of Sherman, passing the turnoff Diana used to go southwest toward Elk Rock Ranch.
Between Diana’s turnoff and where I would turn south on the highway, sat a substantial construction trailer with a sign that said Burrell Roads, with Connie Walterston’s pickup out front.
This marked the southern edge of Circle B land. Sometimes I thought Tom would like to kick it off the ranch completely.
Safe to say, Burrell Roads was not the enterprise of his heart.
Connie opened the trailer door and called, “Elizabeth, what are you doing here?”
“Thought I’d stop by for a bit, if that’s okay.”
“Sure. Can do most things from home, but I wanted to get a few things straightened out here in anticipation of the season.” She tipped her head consideringly as I passed her in the doorway. “I told you I planned to do that today when we had lunch, didn’t I.”
“Did you?” I asked lightly.
“Uh-huh. So I wouldn’t believe it if you told me you’re here to tell me all about the wedding dress you keep side-stepping talking about.”
She’d caught me off-guard — focused on what I wanted to ask, not what questions might come from her — but I thought I masked it well while taking a seat on the visitor side of the desk that looked neat even with her organizing piles on it.
“You don’t have a dress yet, do you, Elizabeth.”
I hadn’t masked it. “I’ll find something.”
“Something.” She wrang out every available drop of disdain in her pronunciation of the word. “It’s your wedding. You want more than something. Does your mother know? Tamantha?”
“Good heavens, no. Please don’t—”
“I won’t. I have something else in mind.”
“Connie—”
She gave me a stop sign hand. “I won’t tell your mother or Tamantha. That’s all I’ll promise. In the meantime, you didn’t come here to confess you haven’t found your wedding dress yet — have you even looked? Never mind. It doesn’t matter, since you haven’t found the right one.”
I had looked in my closet, but I didn’t think that answer would satisfy her, so I jumped on the sliver of an opening she’d given me.
“You’re right that I came about something else. I’m curious about Tom’s parents. His father, really. They’re saying they hope to get here for the wedding.” Connie sighed audibly. “I think she wants to, wants to very much.”
“He’s a good man,” she said immediately. “Not necessarily an easy man, but a good one.”
That could also be said of his son, but I couldn’t imagine how many armies would be needed to keep Tom from his daughter’s wedding... in the far, far distant future, of course.
“You worked with him when he ran Burrell Roads?”
