Wild Cat And The Marine

JACKSON HEARD VOICES as he approached Gray’s Way. Stepping off the road, he moved to the shadows underneath a tall tree. Will stood in the yard, his walnut cane beneath his hand as he said good-night to Bertie Gillis.

“Awfully good of you to come by again,” he said.

Despite the heat of the day, the night air chilled bare arms. Bertie tugged her shawl closer about her shoulders, and tilted her blond head toward the older man. “I please myself, you know. I bear some of the responsibility for your injuries, and besides, if I didn’t enjoy cooking for you and Jackson, I certainly wouldn’t do it.”

“You bear no blame for giving me the chance to buy a young bull at a good price. I should have been more careful. I appreciate your coming by, though. More than the cooking, even, is the talk.”

“Now that is one thing I know how to do.”

Will laughed.

Bertie smiled and looked toward the tree that sheltered Jackson.

Jackson knew she couldn’t see him. The night obscured his presence too well, so why did uneasiness crawl up his spine as if he leaned against an ant’s nest, instead of a sturdy maple tree?

Bertie turned back to face Will. “Well, I’d better be leaving. Tomorrow’s my sewing circle night, but I’ll come by the day after. If you’d like?”

“I haven’t enjoyed such wonderful cooking since Helen died. Not to mention the company. With Cassidy gone and Jackson just here for a little while, I get lonely.”

Bertie nodded shortly and turned away from her companion. “Well, then. ’Bye, Will.”

From behind the tree, Jackson watched and listened. There was no mistaking the hungry look on his father’s face. His stomach went hollow, as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks. His father and Bertie? Surely not.

Jackson watched his father hold the car door for Bertie, then stand there alone, frowning as he watched the taillights until they curved around a bend in the road and vanished. He turned to go back into the house.

Pine needles rustled under Jackson’s feet. The sound from the shadows startled his father.

“Who’s there?”

Jackson winced. Pop’s hearing was as good as ever. “Just me, Pop.”

“Jackson?”

“Yes. It’s me.”

“Why are you lurking in the dark? Trying to scare a man to death?”

“Aw, Pop, I was just giving you a chance to kiss your girlfriend good-night.”

Pop’s voice rose. “Mind your manners, boy! I can still tan your hide.”

“So what’s wrong with a good-night kiss?”

Will looked sharply at him. “How long were you standing there?”

Jackson countered his look with a long, cool stare of his own. “Long enough.”

“You still planning on leaving?”

“After you’re better.”

“If that’s the case, then maybe you ought to stay away from the Darnell place.”

Jackson knew what Pop hinted at. He couldn’t admit it to his father. “Cat’s a friend, that’s all.”

His father snapped, “Then act like a friend and stay away from her. She’s already been hurt once.”

Jackson stiffened. “Don’t you think I’m a little old to be giving orders to?”

“It’s not orders, son. It’s advice. Do Cat a favor and take it.”

Will climbed the porch steps slowly. He paused on the third riser and looked down at Jackson, his angular features hard. “She’s been hurt before. I don’t want my blood to be a part of hurting her again.”

Jackson’s quick temper edged his voice with anger. “Maybe you should practice what you preach, old man!”

“Who’re you calling an old man? I’ve got half a mind to see if a little North Dakota dust on your backside would teach you some manners!”

For a long moment Jackson stared up at his father coldly. He didn’t look fragile, and the hard set to his jaw announced his feelings in no uncertain tones, but his hand clutched the walnut cane. Jackson shook his head as if to clear it, and shot a weak smile in Pop’s direction. “If you think it might, I’d be willing to roll around a bit and see how much dust I can gather.”

His father’s keen gaze relaxed and a thin smile tipped his lips. He nodded. “You probably would. Forget it. What did you mean by telling me to practice what I preach?”

“It doesn’t take a farmer to see you and Bertie are two peas in the same pod.”

“Nonsense! She’s being a good neighbor.” He turned, climbed the last step and limped across the porch to the door.

Jackson called out to the stiff back, “Well, you try kissing her good-night next time she’s over and see how neighborly she gets!”

His father looked back, indignation pulling down his rusty brows and making his face go all angles and planes. “You think because you’ve been away in the Marines you can come home and try to tell your old man the facts of life? I’ve known Bertie since the day she was born.”

“I suppose you’d remember?”

“Sweetest woman in the county, despite the village idiots who named her ‘Crabby,’ and one of the nicest, too.” He paused. “I was almost ten years old. Of course, I remember. Now you get yourself in bed, and leave me to tend my own chickens. You’ll need to be up by four-thirty to meet the Greyhound bus carrying the new fuel pump for that tractor you broke this morning.”

“I broke? You’re kidding, aren’t you?”

“Not more than a smidgen. Come on, now. Let’s go in.”

“Might as well. You’re as good at changing the subject as anyone I’ve ever met. If a guy is going to get a stepmother, then I think he ought to be told about it.”

His father’s anger faded as he stared over Jackson’s head into the shadowed farmyard. A vagrant breeze stirred the leaves of the trees, so they rustled softly. “It’s not been four years since your mother died. Even if I wanted to, and Bertie was willing, it wouldn’t seem right.”

Jackson quit his teasing. It wasn’t funny anymore. He offered a token of peace. “I wouldn’t mind. Cassidy would be okay with it, too.”

“Go to bed, boy, and quit trying to marry off your father.”

Jackson laughed and climbed the steps two at a time. Before he went inside, he looked toward Cat’s place. He couldn’t see any lights. She might have gone to bed. The instant image the thought provoked made him uneasy. He had no business picturing Cat in bed and himself beside her. Maybe the danger was real.

“OH, MOMMY! They’re beautiful!”