Page 25 of Bailey

They took off, and though Sir did his best to keep up with Pansy, he simply couldn’t do it. The blue heeler loved to run, and she streaked across Bailey’s front lawn toward her and the man with her.

As Reeves got closer, he realized that he wasn’t a man at all, but a teenager. He was skinny and tall, with brown hair curling out of the bottom of his cowboy hat, and he laughed and grinned, getting right down on the ground with Sir and Pansy with no fear in him at all. He scrubbed their faces and let them lick him, and Bailey gazed fondly at the three of them before she also reached down and patted Sir.

“He looks good,” she called as he drew even nearer. “No swelling at all.”

“No, he’s all healed up,” Reeves said.

The teenager stood and dusted grass clippings from his clothes, vibrancy and sunshine radiating off him in every direction. Bailey glanced at him, and then to Reeves, and her easygoing nature had changed. Her eyes held an edge of something that Reeves couldn’t quite identify, but which made his pulse stutter through his veins.

“You should go get your stuff,” Bailey said. “Your momma and daddy are going to be here any second.”

“But we’re not done with the pond yet,” the teenager said as he looked at Bailey, pleading in his eyes.

“You’re going to Wolf Creek with your family,” she said. “We can’t make it harder for them, remember?”

They’d clearly had a conversation similar to this before, and Bailey tucked both hands in her back pockets and raised her eyebrows as the teenager continued to stand there.

Reeves finally arrived, and he took in the bags of dirt that had been delivered, along with the boulders, which lay in a pile he didn’t think he and Bailey would be able to move by themselves. He had no idea what she’d been doing with the teenager, and he glanced over as a single mallard duck drifted through the pond.

“OJ,” Bailey said, plenty of warning in her voice. She nodded over to Reeves. “This is Reeves Durham. He’s my next-door neighbor, and I promise you, we’re not going to finish the pond today.”

OJ looked at him, and Reeves knew the instant he’d been recognized. It didn’t happen often, but it wasn’t hard to spot, and panic reared up through him, turning his vision blurred and then white.

“Hey, you’re⁠—”

The sound of a horn honking covered anything OJ might have said, and all three of them looked back toward the driveway, where a great big black truck now stood. Yet another cowboy dropped out of the cab, and he called, “OJ, we gotta go, bud.”

Bailey stepped over to the teenager and pulled him into a hug. “Don’t forget that bag of treats we made for them, and your suitcase is right next to the couch.”

He nodded, and as he pulled away, he faced Reeves again and took the few steps to him. He pumped Reeves’s hands with both of his and said, “It’s great to meet you. Really great.”

Then the horn sounded again, and OJ jogged past him, yelling, “I’m coming!”

Reeves moved and took the boy’s position next to Bailey, facing the house and the driveway. A preteen girl, probably nine or ten, emerged from the sunroof and waved both hands to Bailey as she yelled, “Heya, Bay!”

Bailey waved back, her smile absolutely huge now, but Reeves noticed it didn’t meet her eyes. The tall cowboy waved as well, and then he met his son on the front sidewalk and took his suitcase from him. They spoke, but Reeves and Bailey remained still and silent until OJ had been loaded in the back seat of the truck and it started to back out of the driveway.

Only then did Reeves look at her. “Who was that?” he asked, assuming it to be an easy question, because OJ had been at her house and spoken to her in an ultra-familiar way, and he’d had a suitcase.

Bailey wouldn’t meet his gaze as she turned toward the pile of rocks. “That was OJ,” she said.

When she didn’t volunteer any more information, an internal war started within Reeves on whether he should push her on the topic or not. She sighed as she moved over to the rocks and plucked a piece of paper from between two of them. It flapped in the breeze in her hand now, and she looked at it and then him.

“I don’t know if I want to work any more on this today.”

“You need a backhoe,” he said. “To move those rocks.”

“Yeah.” She seemed to have dimmed by double, and Reeves didn’t like it.

“Hey.” He reached for her hand, then took the paper with his other one. “You said you needed my help today, and I’m happy to do whatever you want. But if you just want to go inside, watch movies, and cuddle with your cats, that would be okay too.” He ducked his head and smiled at her, though she still wouldn’t look up at him. “Right? You don’t have to work twenty-four-seven.”

“I know.” She did look up at him then, and her chin shook slightly, though no tears shone in her eyes. “You may have seen OJ on stage too,” she said. “He did that charity concert with Country Quad a few Christmases ago.”

Reeves studied her, searching her eyes and trying to find the hidden meaning in what she told him. “So he’s a Young,” he said. “I did watch that concert, but I’m not sure I remember.”

“You can’t miss OJ,” Bailey said. “Maybe you didn’t see the parts he was in. He only did two songs—and yes, he’s a Young. That was Otis Young, his daddy.”

She swallowed, and Reeves noticed the way her voice hitched on the word “daddy.”