Page 6 of One Night Years Ago

She narrowed her eyes at him, her blue gaze icy.

“I’m here to make sure we don’t have any trouble,” she said, her voice loud enough for everybody to hear.

He lowered his eyes. “I don’t want any trouble,” he said, his voice low.

“We don’t want him here!” somebody said, and it was as if a floodgate had been opened.

“He’s a rapist!”

“Our daughters won’t be safe while he’s here!”

“Kick him out of town, Sheriff!”

“They don’t like you, Fowler,” she said. Her lips formed a thin line. He wondered what she’d look like when she smiled. “I don’t like you either.”

“I don’t want any trouble,” he repeated, keeping his hands by his side. In his right hand, he clutched his mother’s letter. “I’m going to my family’s farm.”

She sighed and turned around to look at the crowd. “Mr. Fowler here has a right to live wherever he wants,” she said. As she looked back at him, her expression implied she wanted it to be anywhere but here.

“And we have a right not to serve him, Sheriff!”

“He will starve before I sell him food,” somebody else shouted.

“What do we do, Sheriff?” her deputy asked, moving closer to her. Hunter couldn’t remember the guy’s name. Ray? Ron? Rob?

Natalie Bowmann raised her hand. “Everyone, stop,” she said. Her voice wasn’t loud but it was arresting. She was the sheriff but also the victim. Her word was law in this case. “Mr. Fowler can come and go as he pleases. I don’t want to hear of him walking into any more doors.” Then she lowered her voice so only he could hear. “You disgust me, Mr. Fowler.”

Her expression held such hatred, such disdain, he felt like he might choke on it. And behind the disgust he saw something else in her bright blue eyes. He saw pain and fear. He steeled himself once again.

“Sheriff,” he said, inclining his head. He turned around and started walking in the direction of the farm, knowing it would take him almost an hour to get there.

Chapter 4

Hunter

“Hunter!” his mother shouted, running towards him. “Why didn’t you tell us you were coming today? I would have driven into town to pick you up.”

He thought of the scene in town. He would have walked a thousand miles to spare her that.

“It’s okay, Mom. I wasn’t sure what bus I’d be able to catch,” he lied. “I’m here now.”

Her hands went around his neck. He bent down so she could reach. It felt strange to be held, but he didn’t say anything. He understood she needed to hold him.

“Oh God, Hunter,” she said, her beautiful brown eyes filling with tears. “You’ve grown up. I … ”

Hunter took a moment to look at his mother. She was older, obviously, and thinner than he remembered. But it had been twelve years. He’d asked her to leave town with his brother before the trial even started and had only seen her once since then, right after the verdict came in.

Hunter remembered that conversation well. She’d been so pale by the time she made it into the visitor’s room, he hated to think of what she’d been through to get there. He’d asked her to forget about him, for Jesse’s sake. But she’d still written to him faithfully every week. And that was how, a year earlier, Hunter had learned that his uncle had died and that she and Jesse had nowhere to go, except back to the farm.

He wondered how much of her aging was normal and how much of it was due to him and the stress he’d caused.

“Oh God, Hunter, you’re home. I thought I might never see you again!”

Hunter clenched his jaw and steeled himself against the onslaught of emotions. He wasn’t going to cry.

“It’s okay, Mom, everything’s going to be okay,” he said, patting her awkwardly on the shoulder. He looked around them at the broken fence and the dilapidated farmhouse.

“It looks bad, doesn’t it?” she asked. She could always read him. “I wanted to have it looking better for your return.”