~ Ramblin' Man ~

by

Michael Murphy

At the foot of the bleachers, in his uniform shorts and t-shirt, Bart shivered from the cold. Through the falling snow, he watched Rebecca carry her baby to the shelter of a faded green, rust-riddled, seventies era, Chevy Nova. Now, he faced a whole set of new challenges, but he didn’t blame the single mom for cashing in on the hundred grand reward.

On the third base side of the softball field, the Blue Birds celebrated beneath a canvas canopy that covered a picnic table littered with plastic beer cups. Nick stood beside an aluminum keg drawing beer into the cups for the players, wives and girlfriends.

At the top of the bleachers, Samantha smiled down at Bart and slowly descended. With Tinker in her purse, she held the dog tightly to her fur-trimmed pink jacket. Her grin told Bart she’d seen him brush off Candy.

Even with straight dark hair, from the damp snow, Samantha was the bomb. She stopped in front of him and set Tinker at her feet. “You gave up a sure thing in Candy.”

Samantha’s eyes shimmered and her cheeks blazed with a rosy glow. He had to tell her about Rebecca’s phone call to claim the reward, but that could wait. She might be his Kryptonite, but Bart didn’t care.

She peered up at him in silent invitation. Bart leaned forward, his face inches from hers.

Bart’s lips brushed Samantha’s, and the sounds of the partying, the chill of the cold snow all vanished. Brad Paisley’s song We Danced played in his mind...from that moment there was never any doubt...

Her soft lips parted as Samantha wrapped both arms around his neck and pulled him closer. Tingles of electricity spread throughout his body. With the warmth of the kiss, he felt only the closeness of her touch.

Gone was the thrill of the softball victory, the threat posed by her father, the fact that she was a rich heiress, and he was a ramblin’ man. He was just Bart Wheeler kissing a girl who wanted to be kissed.

When their lips finally parted, he opened his eyes. Whoa.

Samantha’s eyes opened. She took a quick breath and gave him a peck on the lips.

“That was...everything I knew it would be.” She laid her head on his chest. “I don’t want to leave.”

Bart ran a hand down her hair. He didn’t care whether it made any sense. He couldn’t let her old man, or the FBI come swooping in and cart her off, especially now. They had to get away. “We have to go.”

“Why?”

“Someone recognized you and called your old man.”

“Nooo.” Samantha clamped her eyes shut. “Not now.” She held his hand and kissed his fingers. “You’re right. Let’s go.”

Samantha picked up her purse with Tinker inside and hand in hand, she and Bart hopped off the bleachers and headed for the Blue Bird celebration.

Everyone applauded and high-fived Bart as he stepped beneath the canopy. He stood beside Nick, who guzzled a tall paper cup of beer and let out a belch.

“Dude, can I borrow your car?” Bart asked. “I’ll leave it parked by the Hayloft.”

“I’m in no condition to drive anyway, but you’ve got to celebrate with us. Those Klowns are over there sulking.” He pointed to a dejected group drinking beer beneath a canopy on the first base side. “Who’s your daddy?” Nick shouted.

Bart glanced at the defeated team. “Where’s Warren and Manny?”

“Couldn’t face the music. They took off right after you crossed home plate.”

When Samantha tugged on his arm, Bart smiled. “Something important just came up. I really have to split.”

Nick’s eyes swept over Samantha then he winked at Bart. “Got it.” He fished car keys from his pocket and tossed them on the table. “I was wrong.”

“What?” Bart pocketed the keys.

Nick clapped Bart on the shoulder and pulled him aside. “She’s not your Kryptonite, man.” He chugged the rest of his beer. “She’s your Lois Lane.”

Careful not to slip on the slick pavement, Bart and Samantha hurried to Nick’s Mustang convertible. He climbed in and showed her how to put up the top then Bart drove them to the Hayloft.

Bart parked by the front entrance beside a long line of tire marks that hadn’t been there when he left. He noticed the open blinds of the front window. “Something’s wrong.”

“What?”

“There’s a light on above the bar. Wasn’t there before. Wait here.” Bart grabbed his clothes from the backseat, stepped out of the car and ran to his truck. In the cab of the truck, he slipped into his jeans, jacket and Stetson then retrieved the pry bar from beneath the front seat.

When he returned, Samantha opened the passenger door and patted Tinker on the head. “I’ll be right back, baby.” She closed the door, leaving the dog inside the car.

Bart pointed to the tire marks now partially covered as the snow began to stick to the pavement. “Big tires. Probably a pickup’s.” He held out his hand and led Samantha to the front steps. His heart sank when he noticed pry marks on the doorframe beside the lock. Someone had broken into the Hayloft.

Gripping the pry bar tightly, Bart motioned for Samantha to get behind him. She stood at his back, and he pressed his ear to the door. No sound.

Raising the bar above his head, Bart pushed open the door and spun inside. “Freeze.” He looked around the bar and noticed two chairs lying on the floor where a shiny object caught his attention.

Two legs of one of the chairs were shattered. Between the chairs lay a round drop of...He knelt and looked closer. Definitely blood.

Bart picked up the shiny object, an asthma inhaler. A cold chill swept over him. Warren and Manny had quickly left the softball game. They must have broken into the bar, fought over something and Warren dropped his asthma medicine.

“Is that Warren’s?”

“Looks like it.” Bart glanced at the cash register. Shit.

Bart hurried behind the bar. He snatched the key from the hook and opened the cash register. An empty envelope lay in the cash drawer. Bernice would have moved the Saturday night receipts to the cash box, but she always left a hundred dollars in an envelope locked in the register. Bart’s mind flashed back to Warren helping Samantha the time the register froze up.

With Samantha hovering close behind, Bart rushed into the kitchen. He took a key from the top drawer and unlocked the right lower drawer. The cash box lay empty. With Friday and Saturday’s receipts, Warren and Manny must have grabbed over five grand. “Damn.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Yes it is.” Bart had let Jake and Bernice down. They’d left him in charge. He’d gone off to play ball and hit on Samantha while Warren and Manny had broken into the Hayloft and robbed the place.

Warren had been nice to Bart earlier in the morning as they finished the roof. During the softball game, the big freak hadn’t been as obnoxious as Bart had anticipated. Now Bart knew why.

Hell, the two creeps threw the damn game. Warren had kicked an easy third out and Manny grooved a pitch that Bart hit over the fence. “I have to get the money back before Jake and Bernice return.”

Suddenly, Bart remembered what he’d forgotten to unpack. He slipped to the back room and pulled open the nightstand drawer. “They took Mandy’s ring.”

Samantha stood in the doorway. “I’m sorry. Why would they do such a thing?”

Bart led Samantha into the bar. “Those two freaks knew Jake and Bernice were out of town. They thought I’d be in the park getting wasted, so they broke in, took the hundred from the register and the deposits from the desk. Freakin’ losers.” Bart smacked the pry bar onto his palm and winced.

“What are we going to do?”

Bart paced. If they called the cops, they’d have to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, including Samantha’s identity. With such a high profile case, the FBI would be all over this and feast on Bart’s carcass. By the time Samantha convinced them she hadn’t been kidnapped, they’d have lights shining in his eyes, probably getting him to confess to being the second gunman on the grassy knoll. No, thanks. “If we call the cops, I can’t be here.”

“And I’d have to tell them who I am, then Daddy, his security team and the FBI would be here in no time.”

Bart nodded. “I’ve got a better plan.”

“Warren and Manny are a couple of tough guys.”

Bart held up the pry bar. “This is a pretty tough pry bar. I’ll get the money back, but you might want to stay.”

Samantha kissed him on the lips. “I can’t let you leave me, not now.” She kissed him again. “Where would they go?”

“Not far in this weather. Better pack your clothes. Can I borrow your cellphone?”

As Samantha handed him her phone, Bart pulled his wallet from his pocket. He found the slip of paper and dialed the number. “Candy. It’s Bart Wheeler. I need to see you.” He held the phone away from his ear as she shrieked then began to tell him what a freak he was. “I am a dick, sick and twisted. I’m all that, but please don’t hang up. We need to talk about your brother.”