The Cake Lady

By Donna Bender Hood

Since the ax blade was expertly honed and it was swung with precision and power, perfect pieces of firewood fell on either side of the cutting stump. Splitting perfect firewood was an art, and Grayson Rivers was satisfied with his efforts. As part of his fairly regular fitness routine, he hand cut his own firewood, at least as much as time would allow. What people said about firewood was true. Cut your own wood, and it warmed you twice. Cutting his own also made him thankful for the half-ton gas wood splitter he used for the bulk of his serious woodcutting.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 26, 2018
• ISBN: 9781984541772

Donna Bender Hood

Donna Bender Hood is the author of nine other books, all of which are light fiction, romance, and evildoings. Besides writing, she enjoys gardening. Donna is also a twenty-year quilter and is active in a local quilt group that raises funds for their volunteer fire department by hosting a quality outdoor quilt show every September.

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Copyright © 2018 by Donna Bender Hood.

Library of Congress Control Number:            2018908807

ISBN:                  Hardcover                      978-1-9845-4175-8

                           Softcover                        978-1-9845-4176-5

                           eBook                               978-1-9845-4177-2

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,

without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the

product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance

to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 07/26/2018

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CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Thank

you, Karen

CHAPTER 1

Since the ax blade was expertly honed and it was swung with precision and power, perfect pieces of firewood fell on either side of the cutting stump. Splitting perfect firewood was an art, and Grayson Rivers was satisfied with his efforts. As part of his fairly regular fitness routine, he hand cut his own firewood, at least as much as time would allow. What people said about firewood was true. Cut your own wood, and it warmed you twice. Cutting his own also made him thankful for the half-ton gas wood splitter he used for the bulk of his serious woodcutting.

He was just about to place another log on the stump when Tippy, his lovebug of a mutt, raised her head and thumped her tail happily on the ground. For the first time, Grayson noticed the two riders approaching along the east pasture fence. One rider was Buddy, his fourteen-year-old nephew. The other person was smaller, a stranger and female.

Buddy was the son of Grayson’s sister, Shelley Taylor. Just last week, Shelley had mentioned that Buddy was suffering through his first adolescent love and that it was painful to watch. Grayson studied the two and thought the other rider was probably the girl because they had been holding hands. Locating his shirt, Grayson wiped sweat from his face, shoulders, and chest then put on his shirt. It would have to do.

That had been an hour ago. The two kids had arrived, the horses were now tied to the fence, and Buddy had done the introductions. After that, Buddy offered to help Grayson split wood, and Jana now sat on the top rail of the fence and watched as Buddy hefted the large wood rounds onto the wood splitter while his uncle operated the wood splitter’s ram.

Buddy often came over to help. They had split wood before, and they had a good rhythm. Grayson was glad he could hide is amusement behind his sunglasses. Buddy was doing his best to look macho, and Jana watched him with a dreamy expression on her face.

Grayson studied her—very attractive and would most likely have left a string of broken hearts in her wake before she would be in her twenties. Buddy’s heart would probably be the first one.

Grayson noted she did have good boots. He understood that her fashionably torn jeans and her rainbow sparkly shirt were current teenage fashion trends. He thought that if she were his daughter, he would not let her wear so much makeup, but then what did he know about raising children? His failed marriage had lasted for five years, and fortunately, there had been no children. Grayson looked at her again. It was her long red-gold hair that caught his eye. Now, much to his surprise, Jana was no longer gazing at Buddy. She was staring out toward the county road with worry on her face.

Grayson followed her glance. A small white car was barreling down the county road. As a nine-year veteran of the Freemont County Sheriff’s Department, Grayson knew the driver was speeding. Everyone did on this stretch of road because it was straight and flat for several miles. Straight and flat did not help much when a deer popped out of the bushes and darted out into the road. Now the driver was quickly slowing down. Grayson did not know he frowned as the car turned onto Thompson Lane, his road. Thompson Lane was a ten-mile private dirt road ending at the Thompson ranch. Beside the Thompson family and Grayson, seven other residents shared the road. He did not recognize this car.

Jana had come down off the fence and stood next to Buddy and Grayson. He thought she looked perplexed. I think that’s my mom. She sounded worried. His next thought was to wonder if the kids had taken the horses without permission or maybe they were not supposed to be here for some reason. The car was churning up early summer dust as it headed in their direction.

The dust further irritated Grayson. Some people just did not look in their rearview mirror. It was poor manners. More than once on duty, he had been called out because someone was angry with someone else over road dust, and the argument had escalated into something more serious.

The car braked suddenly and then turned onto his property. From this point, the driver approached slowly and stopped about fifteen feet from where they stood. The engine was not turned off. Instead, the driver’s door opened. A woman in big dark glasses and a large floppy hat emerged just far enough to yell. Jana, get in the car. There’s been an accident. Your dad is in the hospital. They’re sending a plane.

Jana Hillman looked stricken. Turning to Buddy, she asked, You’ll take care of Patty Cakes? As Grayson expected, Buddy said nothing but simply nodded his head. Buddy and Grayson watched as the car returned the way it had come, complete with dust and again over the speed limit driving until it disappeared from their sight.

Now that the two of them stood in the empty quiet yard, Grayson expected Buddy to say something, but because of his speech problem, it would take Buddy a few minutes to get his thoughts in order. Grayson was content to wait.

Buddy finally spoke. Jana said when she was eight, her mom got real sick. Her mom got skinny then sort of bloated and then lost her hair. She threw up a lot and then she went away for a while. Buddy paused then continued. While her mom was gone, her dad …, he paused again, searching for the right words.

Grayson finished his sentence. Got a girlfriend. Had an affair. Screwed around.

Buddy let out a big sigh, obviously relieved that his uncle had finished his sentence. Yeah. Jana said she hated her dad for a long time after he left. Too many times, Grayson had seen the situations where the mom/wife had become ill and the husband/dad had found comfort in another woman’s arms.

Buddy continued. Her dad lives in Kansas City now. Another pause. Missouri. He’s some business big shot, and he has a new family. Last year, he took Jana and everyone to Disneyland for a week. Well, not her mom, he added. Grayson thought about how much that might have cost but made no comment.

So Jana and Mrs. Hillman live here?

Yeah, but Jana’s mom is not Mrs. Hillman anymore. She went back to her old name after the divorce. But that doesn’t make any difference because everyone in town knows who she is anyhow, added Buddy firmly.

Grayson wondered why everyone in town would know Jana’s mother. I don’t know her.

Buddy looked shocked. Uncle Grayson, everyone knows her! She’s the Cake Lady. You know. She sells the yummy cakes. And stuff. Mom says everyone buys her cakes.

Grayson reached out and gave Buddy’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze. Think about that. I’m thirty-four years old. I live alone thirty miles outside of town, and I work nights. Just how many times do you think I might need to buy a fancy cake?

Buddy was thoughtful. He grinned a little. Not many, I guess.

Right, I don’t think I have ever purchased a cake, but I do recognize those pink-and-white polka-dot bags that come from her bakery. And I do know that inside those bags lurk all sort of good things. Buddy was obviously relieved to know his uncle was not totally ignorant about the best pastry in the town of Cotillion, Colorado.

A chilly breeze stopped any further conversation, and they each paid attention to the dark thunderheads piling up over the mountains. Going to rain, stated Buddy.

About four thirty or five is my guess, added Grayson.

Buddy nodded. Guess I better head for home. I have to take Patty Cakes back and take care of both horses.

Are you going to have any trouble with Patty Cakes? Buddy was good with horses, but Grayson had asked anyway.

No way. He’s a great horse. She just spoils the hell out of him. Buddy did not use profanity at home, but Grayson let it slide.

You can put them in the barn, spend the night here if it is OK with your mom. Buddy often stayed at his uncle’s, and Grayson was wondering what to feed him if he did stay.

Nah, I got to go home. Buddy had started to walk toward the horses, but he stopped with a jerk and turned. I’m supposed to tell you to come to dinner, if you can.

Grayson grinned and Buddy grinned back. Who is your mom setting me up with this time? Shelley worried about her brother and his monastic life after his divorce. She was always asking him to dinner anytime she found some single lady she thought was worthy.

Buddy shook his head. It’s Mr. and Mrs. Harding. Although Grayson continued to smile, he was not pleased. If he went to dinner, sometime during the evening, Jim Harding would ask if he had decided whether or not to run for sheriff against his boss, the present sheriff, Will Billings. Leading Patty Cakes, Buddy rode off, waving as he left.

Now it was several hours later. Earlier, Grayson had covered the splitter against the coming rain and then fixed his dinner. Because he worked the night shift, his dinner was usually breakfast fare even on his nights off like tonight. Ham and eggs and home fries from the night before had been fine, but there would not have been enough to feed Buddy had he decided to stay.

Now the storm had come and gone but stalled out east over the beginning of the Great Planes. Grayson did his few dishes, and then because the lights had flickered so often, he turned them off and lit a lantern.

The rest of the evening was his. Taking a bottle of bourbon and a glass, he wandered out to the porch on the east side of his house where he could still see the lightning at play and hear the distant thunder. He was glad he had put on his warm shirt as he settled into the great rocking chair he had found along the side of the road. He had watched the paper and the community Web site to see if anyone was missing a chair. No one had claimed it, and it was now his porch chair. Tippy had curled up in her nearby basket, but every once in a while, her ears twitched as thunder rumbled in the distance.

Grayson’s first thoughts were about Buddy and his speech problems. The boy didn’t stutter or even stammer. His problem was that he just stopped talking so there were gaps in his conversation. It had started just after he turned thirteen, and by the time he turned fourteen, it was a problem. Lyle, Buddy’s father, had made things worse by teasing Buddy until Shelley had finally taken Buddy to a speech therapist.

The therapist and a counselor had done some testing. The result was a surprise. Buddy was bright, very bright. The pauses in his conversations were because he was considering all the words in his very extensive vocabulary. He wanted to get his speech and therefore his communications just right. It was their considered opinion that Buddy would outgrow the problem as he left adolescence and gained confidence. Lyle thought the whole thing had been a waste of money. The kid just needed to speak up.

Buddy worked hard to win his father’s approval by trying out for the high-profile sports rather than the science club, the computer team, or the chess club. Buddy was third-string football and second-string basketball. Shelley had said to Grayson, sighing, Buddy is built just like you were when you were thirteen—tall, gangly, all elbows and knees. In return, Grayson had reminded her that by the time he was eighteen, he had filled out a lot.

Lyle was not much into outdoor activities, and happily, it had fallen to Grayson to introduce Buddy to horses and camping and fishing and shooting. Buddy was good with animals, a good fisherman, but too softhearted to shoot anything. However, he would happily eat any venison that Uncle Grayson managed to bring home in hunting season. That was OK with Grayson, but he did insist that Buddy be well trained in gun safety and responsibility.

The one thing he did not mention to Buddy was sex. Grayson felt that was the responsibility of his parents. Now after watching Buddy and Jana Hillman this afternoon, he hoped that Lyle or Shelley had talked to their son about the facts of life.

Grayson’s own introduction to sex had been a disaster. First of all, when the parental permission slip had come home for the sex education class, Grayson’s mother had marked a big black X in the no box. Grayson’s father would take care of that just as she had talked to Grayson’s older sister, Shelley.

Unfortunately, Grayson’s father’s idea of sex education was to hand his son a package of condoms, saying in his opinion that this particular brand held up well and a man didn’t need education when it came to being a man. Then he said, You got any questions? Grayson was horrified to think that his parents might actually need and or possibly had used such things. Parents didn’t do that kind of stuff. They were old. He shook his head no to any more questions.

Grayson’s education fell to guy talk and whatever X-rated movies or books happened to come his way. His senior year, he was the starting running back for the Cotillion Cougars, and he was good. Socially, he always seemed to be paired up with Shanna Brown, the head cheerleader of the Cougaretts. He didn’t mind. He liked the way she filled out her sweater. Then the night before the homecoming rally, he found himself and Shanna snuggled in the backseat of the car of the Rivers family.

She had helped him unhook her bra and pulled up her sweater. He had never seen or touched a real boob until tonight. The effect on his dick was more than he could have ever imagined, and then she had unzipped his pants. Now he understood the term straight as a flagpole. Apparently, Shanna did too because she handed him a condom.

It was too much, and he climaxed right there. Some of his semen landed on her hand. It reminded him of when his grandfather coughed and spit. Maybe that’s what she thought too because Shanna looked totally disgusted. He was mortified. Not only had he shot his wad in the backseat of his family’s car, but now his girlfriend also looked pissed, was pulling her clothes back into place, and was moving away from him.

A few weeks later, Grayson was puzzled and relieved when the rumor reached him that Shanna was saying he was a real stud. It was only by the end of the school year that he understood she was only saying that to make herself look good. He avoided sex until college.

By his second year of college, he was more mature and so was his occasional partner. Sex was not such a mystery, and it was enjoyable. Then one of his friend’s girlfriends admitted she was pregnant. After that, she discovered that despite all his talk about love, her boyfriend did not want to get married. That would ruin his future, but he still really did love her so much that he would arrange and pay for an abortion.

The abortion was a back-alley affair, which went terribly wrong. Wrapped in bloody sheets, she was taken to a twenty-four-hour clinic. They managed to get her to a nearby hospital. She didn’t die, but she would never have children. Both young people dropped out of school. Sex suddenly had a serious and sad side.

That spring break when Grayson was home, he and his sister had gone riding. Briefly, they had discussed the awful affair. Shelley had turned in her saddle and fixed him with a hard stare. You better make sure you keep your fly zipped, little brother. Her statement made a huge impression because it had shocked him that she would talk to him that way. That was a long time ago.

Grayson topped off his drink and watched as distant lightning flashed. He counted till he heard the thunder. It was far away. He did not know why his thoughts had turned in this direction. Buddy was a good kid, and Lyle and Shelley provided a happy and secure home. Lyle made good money as the assistant manager of the Platt River Savings and Loan. Shelley worked in the office at the middle school so that Buddy would be able to go to college.

Grayson recalled working part time during the college years and full time during the summers. It had been a summer job between his junior and senior year that pointed him toward his current career. The summer job had been working at a hay ranch in eastern Colorado. It was brutally hot as hell work.

One day that summer, he had been sitting in the small shade of the hay truck gulping down water when he witnessed an accident on the nearby county road. First, sirens caught his attention. Then a small older car came into view. It appeared that the car was being chased by a loud beat-up old pickup. It was trying to run the car off the road. Two sheriff patrol cars were following, lights flashing and sirens blaring.

To Grayson’s shock, the truck did push the car over the embankment into the drainage ditch. Without thinking, Grayson had grabbed the first aid kit from the hay truck’s cab and sprinted toward the fence some distance away.

By the time he reached the scene, the four deputies had disarmed and arrested the drunk driver of the pickup. The two kids from the car, maybe in their midteens, were being helped up the bank. The boy had a cut on the head, and the girl was crying but apparently uninjured.

A new car appeared soon after and also parked at the scene. The driver, an older man in nice but casual clothing, moved quickly to the young couple and encircled them in a big hug. After a brief conversation with the deputy who seemed to be the lead officer, the two kids and the man drove away. The now silent drunk driver of the pickup had been secured in the back of one of the patrol cars and they departed. Suddenly, it was just Grayson and the senior officer who was coming over to the fence toward him.

Guess you must have seen the whole thing. Grayson said he did and then explained what he had seen as the deputy made notes.

When they were done, the sheriff extended his hand and was planning to take his leave when Grayson blurted out. I’m taking criminology. I want to be in law enforcement, but I don’t know what branch. Can you tell me why you decided to be a county sheriff?

The sheriff smiled, pushed back his hat, and hitched up his pants. "I like being a sheriff in a small rural county because I know most of the people … well, almost all of them. Take this accident that just happened. The kids, Ray Morton and Lynda Griffin, were running away to get away from her dad, the guy in the truck. Griff’s a drunk. He’s mean. He roughs up Lynda’s mom, but she won’t say anything because he comes back and threatens to hurt Lynda. The other man that drove the kids away is Ray and Lynda’s pastor. He’s going to make sure they don’t try to get married or run away again or otherwise screw up their young lives.

Now take me, I’m the sheriff, and old Griff was driving drunk, exceeding the speed limit, ran a car off the road, his taillights are out, I bet his registration is not current, and best of all, he is on probation and I just took a gun away from him. Maybe if I’m really lucky, the weapon is stolen. The sheriff grinned widely.

I am going to do my damnedest to make sure he goes away for as long as the law allows, not because I’m a gung ho sheriff or because I love the law, which I do, but because I care about Mrs. Griffin and those two kids. They need a break, and by damn, just maybe I can give it to them. The sheriff took a big deep breath and huffed it back out. Grayson had thought he was finished. He wasn’t.

My brother-in-law is a state trooper. He says he hardly ever knows who the hell it is that he has to cite or arrest except for some known low-life and a couple of local politicos who are prone to speeding in his area. Says he likes it that way. The sheriff shrugged. Grayson would always remember that speech. By the time he returned to school, Grayson liked the idea of being a county sheriff.

As Grayson recalled his college years, it almost seemed like someone else in another time, and that included Nina, his long-gone ex-wife. Nina Seamark was a year behind him and attracted a lot of attention when she first hit the campus. She liked to state that she would only attend college in Colorado until she could transfer to some exclusive college back east. Her major was French, and she intended to either be a United Nations translator or maybe go to France and perhaps work at the U.S. Embassy or possibly one of the consulates. And while she did these things, she was going to write a best-selling book or maybe several. Nina never said what her mother or father thought of her plans.

Grayson and the others were surprised when she returned to school that next year. Nina Seamark had changed. She was more serious, and over the summer, her major had changed to journalism, which to Grayson seemed more practical since she said she still wanted to be a writer. I’ve decided I really do want to write novels. I can do that anywhere I choose to live so I can travel more, she had announced several times. She also said it was delish that Grayson was so focused on a career. Nina also suggested he would make a good spy for the FBI or CIA or some group like that. He should have told her right then he wanted to be a county sheriff that and he believed he preferred a rural county.

They seemed to hit it off. As he remembered, there were no shooting stars or fireworks or romantic bells in their relationship, but by his graduation, they were engaged. The next year had been an exciting blur, or at least that’s how Grayson remembered it. He had selected which sheriff training academy he wanted to attend. Several months later, he graduated from the academy, and Nina quit school. They were married in a nice courthouse ceremony because he had to report for his new job and her parents could not come to Colorado on such short notice.

Grayson had applied in several counties and could not believe that he was accepted by two. One of them was small rural Freemont County where he had grown up. There was no question which he would accept. And if that were not good enough,