Read Online Slow Heat in Heaven by Sandra Brown - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sandra Brown
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I had them treated last night." She was deliberately unspecific and hoped that neither of them would ask her for details. To avoid that, she said, "I intend to press charges against that Flynn character."
That's when they reacted first with astonishment, then laughter. "Schyler, you can't sic the law on Jigger Flynn." Ken smiled at her patronizingly.
"Why not?" she demanded. "There must be a local or state law he's violating by keeping those dogs."
"There's not. Folks have been fighting pit bulls around here for a hundred years or more. Jigger doesn't let them roam free."
"One was free last night."
"It probably just got out of its pen by mistake."
"A costly mistake. And that's not the first time. I heard that a child was attacked not long ago."
"The kid was riding his bike past Jigger's place."
"And that justifies him getting mauled?" she cried angrily. "I intend to see that something is done to guard against that happening again."
"Calling the sheriff won't do you any good. Oh, he might make a token visit out to Jigger's place, but they'll likely end up sharing a drink and a dirty joke."
Schyler divided her disgust between her sister and Ken. "You expect me to just let this drop, pretend that it never happened, let bygones be bygones?"
"That would probably be best, yeah." Ken got up, gave Tricia a perfunctory kiss on the cheek and Schyler a pat on the shoulder. "I'm due to tee off at ten. Bye-bye, girls."
Schyler watched him leave with a blend of dismay and resentment. His dismissive attitude toward the dog attack made her furious and all the more determined not to let it pass without taking action against the animal's owner.
She had rolled over and played dead only once in her life, when Tricia announced her pregnancy. Never again. She had learned there was no percentage in being a martyr. As often as not it earned one contempt, not respect.
"I can't believe Ken wants me to let this drop. He's always been ready to crusade for the underdog, no pun intended."
"When he was in college, Schyler. He grew up."
"So you're suggesting that I grow up, too."
"Yes," Tricia declared. "This isn't a campus. We're not trying to end a war or start one or find relief for migrant workers or equal education for black children." Tricia returned the uneaten half of her biscuit to her plate and licked the dripping butter and honey off her fingers. "You haven't been back a week yet. Don't go stirring up trouble, please."
"I didn't start this. I wouldn't have even known that the damn dogs existed if one hadn't attacked me on my own property."
Tricia let out a long sigh. "You just can't leave things alone, can you? You always were poking your nose into business that didn't concern you. Cotton encouraged your activist goings on, but they drove Mama and me to distraction. They were an embarrassment. So. . . so unrefined." She leaned forward for emphasis. "This is my home, Schyler. Don't you dare do anything that's going to embarrass me. I want to be able to hold my head up when I go into town."
Schyler scraped back her chair and tossed her unused napkin into her empty plate. "If I can't get the authorities to do something about that menacing bootlegger and his vicious animals, I'll do something about it myself. And I don't give a damn how much embarrassment it causes you with the Junior League, Tricia."
"He has showed signs of improvement in the last twelve hours," Dr. Collins told her when she arrived at the hospital. "I'm being guardedly optimistic. If his condition continues to improve, even this gradually, we should be able to operate within a week."
"That's wonderful."
"I said guardedly optimistic. He's still a very sick cardiac patient."
"I understand." The doctor smiled at Schyler sympathetically. When someone's loved one had been as close to death as Cotton Crandall had been, relatives grasped at shreds of hope. "Can I see him?"
"Same rules. Two minutes max every hour. But you might want to hang around for a while.
That's when they reacted first with astonishment, then laughter. "Schyler, you can't sic the law on Jigger Flynn." Ken smiled at her patronizingly.
"Why not?" she demanded. "There must be a local or state law he's violating by keeping those dogs."
"There's not. Folks have been fighting pit bulls around here for a hundred years or more. Jigger doesn't let them roam free."
"One was free last night."
"It probably just got out of its pen by mistake."
"A costly mistake. And that's not the first time. I heard that a child was attacked not long ago."
"The kid was riding his bike past Jigger's place."
"And that justifies him getting mauled?" she cried angrily. "I intend to see that something is done to guard against that happening again."
"Calling the sheriff won't do you any good. Oh, he might make a token visit out to Jigger's place, but they'll likely end up sharing a drink and a dirty joke."
Schyler divided her disgust between her sister and Ken. "You expect me to just let this drop, pretend that it never happened, let bygones be bygones?"
"That would probably be best, yeah." Ken got up, gave Tricia a perfunctory kiss on the cheek and Schyler a pat on the shoulder. "I'm due to tee off at ten. Bye-bye, girls."
Schyler watched him leave with a blend of dismay and resentment. His dismissive attitude toward the dog attack made her furious and all the more determined not to let it pass without taking action against the animal's owner.
She had rolled over and played dead only once in her life, when Tricia announced her pregnancy. Never again. She had learned there was no percentage in being a martyr. As often as not it earned one contempt, not respect.
"I can't believe Ken wants me to let this drop. He's always been ready to crusade for the underdog, no pun intended."
"When he was in college, Schyler. He grew up."
"So you're suggesting that I grow up, too."
"Yes," Tricia declared. "This isn't a campus. We're not trying to end a war or start one or find relief for migrant workers or equal education for black children." Tricia returned the uneaten half of her biscuit to her plate and licked the dripping butter and honey off her fingers. "You haven't been back a week yet. Don't go stirring up trouble, please."
"I didn't start this. I wouldn't have even known that the damn dogs existed if one hadn't attacked me on my own property."
Tricia let out a long sigh. "You just can't leave things alone, can you? You always were poking your nose into business that didn't concern you. Cotton encouraged your activist goings on, but they drove Mama and me to distraction. They were an embarrassment. So. . . so unrefined." She leaned forward for emphasis. "This is my home, Schyler. Don't you dare do anything that's going to embarrass me. I want to be able to hold my head up when I go into town."
Schyler scraped back her chair and tossed her unused napkin into her empty plate. "If I can't get the authorities to do something about that menacing bootlegger and his vicious animals, I'll do something about it myself. And I don't give a damn how much embarrassment it causes you with the Junior League, Tricia."
"He has showed signs of improvement in the last twelve hours," Dr. Collins told her when she arrived at the hospital. "I'm being guardedly optimistic. If his condition continues to improve, even this gradually, we should be able to operate within a week."
"That's wonderful."
"I said guardedly optimistic. He's still a very sick cardiac patient."
"I understand." The doctor smiled at Schyler sympathetically. When someone's loved one had been as close to death as Cotton Crandall had been, relatives grasped at shreds of hope. "Can I see him?"
"Same rules. Two minutes max every hour. But you might want to hang around for a while.
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