Free Just Over The Mountain by Robyn Carr Page A

was right he stepped out and scared ten years off the life of the vandal, who dropped the eggs he carried in his pulled-up shirttail. They splattered on his shoes and washed down the stream between the rocks.
    “Dad!” cried Johnny Toopeek.
    It was an instinctive move on Tom’s part, a combination of shock and anger. He reached right out and grabbed his son’s shirtfront and gave him a shake. “You?” He couldn’t believe this!
    “Dad, hey!” Johnny yelled.
    “You’d throw things at moving vehicles? Like you don’t know how dangerous that is?”
    “No way, Dad! Gimme a break here!”
    Tom let go. Johnny was getting pretty big. At fourteen he was tall, and his feet were already size elevens. Tom looked at those feet. “The evidence may be circumstantial, but it’s all over your shoes.”
    “Yeah, well, I was taking the eggs back. But thanks to you…”
    “Back where?” Tom wanted to know.
    “To Mr. Gilmore’s house, although I don’t know how old they are or when they got taken. Let’s just say I put a stop to it, okay?”
    “Who’d you stop, exactly.”
    “It ain’t important, okay?”
    “It’s my main concern at the moment.”
    “Well, I don’t snitch, so I guess I’m grounded or something.”
    Tom tapped his foot and seethed. “Whoever you’re protecting just hammered the police car.”
    “No way! Are you serious? ”
    “Serious as a heart attack, buster. Now, who are your friends. As if I don’t know.”
    “Sorry, Pop. I don’t snitch. But I guess me telling them we don’t do that here wasn’t real convincing, so I reckon they’ll get themselves caught pretty quick. And I’ll wash your car.”
    “Yup.” Tom turned and began to walk back to the Range Rover. He knew precisely who the culprits were, but he wasn’t about to let on in front of Johnny. Later they would have a little talk about snitching. Holding a confidence to keep a friend out of trouble was one thing. Clamming up as a matter of principle even if someone could get hurt, was another. Tom needed to be sure Johnny knew the difference.
     
    June was just about ready to leave the clinic, when the phone rang. She was the last one to go and she could have let the machine pick up—there were emergency numbers on the recorder—but she answered, hoping it might be Jim.
    But it was Charlie MacNeil. While June wouldn’t wish ill on anyone, it was fortuitous that Charlie had a bad sinus infection. She offered to keep the clinic open for a little while longer and give Charlie some free antibiotic and decongestant samples because she wanted a chance to talk to him about Clarence.
    Forty minutes later, having told Charlie he looked like crap, given him the drugs and secured his promise to check on Clarence as soon as possible, she was ready to call it a day.
    As she and Sadie were leaving the clinic, she noticed her aunt Myrna’s old Caddy at the café, right beside Elmer’s truck. She suspected they were holding a family meeting without her, so she pulled in.
    But it was not a family meeting at all. It was poker. At a table in the corner sat Elmer, Sam Cussler, Burt Crandall the baker, Aunt Myrna in a straw hat with a long pheasant feather jutting out to the side and Judge Forrest. They usually played at Judge’s house. With Judge and Birdie living in the center of town, the quilting circle, of which June was a member, met there one night a week and poker was played there another.
    June went to the counter where George stood, sipping his coffee. “What are they doing here?” she asked.
    “They have logistical problems. Myna’s is too far west, Doc’s is too far east, Syl Crandall doesn’t approve of poker, Sam’s got himself that new young wife and Judge has got Chris and the boys home.”
    “Oh,” she said. “Well, would you make me a milk shake to drink on the way home?”
    “Sure thing.”
    “I’ll just go say hello.”
    Since poker is serious business, no one put down their cards or looked at her except