Chapter 35
Light was
barely peeking through the curtains when the unfamiliar sound woke McCoy out of
a deep sleep. He blinked groggily then sat up, reaching to pull the curtain
back slightly. To his surprise a huge red rooster sat on the fence a few feet
from the house, flapping his wings pompously before letting out another raucous
crow. Something about the sight struck McCoy as comical and he gave way to a
fit of laughter.
Once he
had pulled on a pair of jeans and long-sleeved shirt, he made his way first to
the bathroom then to the kitchen where he found Morgan measuring flour into a
bowl.
“Did the
rooster wake you up, too?” he asked as he came up behind her and placed his
hands on her hips.
“No, I can’t
say he did. But he has been going at it for a while, hasn’t he?” she responded
with a smile.
“I’ve
never had a rooster wake me up before. Is this what I can expect every day?”
“Every
day. All day, in fact,” she informed him. “In the movies and cartoons they
only crow in the morning. In real life they crow all day long, for no
particular reason at all. After you get used to it you’ll be able to sleep
right through it.”
“I’m not
sure I want to. I kind of like the idea of getting up with the chickens.” He
leaned around to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. “What are you making?”
“Biscuits. I’ll make you some eggs, too, as soon as I get these in the
oven. And don’t let me forget that we have to gather eggs this afternoon.”
“We’re
going to gather eggs? That’ll be another first for me,” he acknowledged as he
sat down at the table. “What else are we going to do today besides pick
vegetables from the garden?”
“I don’t
know. Is there anything you’d particularly like to do while we’re here?” she
asked as she dumped dough onto the counter and began to knead it.
“I’m here
to do what you want,” he informed her. Leaning an elbow on the table and
propping his head in his hand he added, “I would like to see where you went to
school. And you can show me any other points of interest along the way, like
where you used to go skinny dipping, or where you were when you received your
first kiss.”
She
glanced over her shoulder and smiled at his mischievous expression before
returning to her work. “Well, I’ve never been skinny dipping and we’re on the
wrong side of the
“
With a
nod she replied, “I already lived in
“Oh, come
on! Are you trying to tell me that you went all the way through high school,
then college, without ever having been kissed? I don’t believe it!” he declared.
“Keep in
mind that I graduated from high school when I was only fifteen. That didn’t
leave much time for distractions like boys. When I went to college in Houston,
I had a job in the evenings and came here to help my grandparents on the
weekends. I was pretty driven as a youngster. And once I moved to Chicago,
between work and law school, I still didn’t have time for distractions. I was
practically an old maid by the time I had my first kiss.”
“Are you
serious?” he asked in disbelief as he got up and made his way to the cabinet a
few feet from her, then hoisted himself up to sit on the edge. “You really
waited that long? What about your high school prom, or all the college parties?
I’m sure the opportunity presented itself somewhere along the way.”
“I didn’t
go to the prom and I didn’t go to parties. I told you, I was driven. I was also
very shy. I didn’t allow myself to get into situations where the opportunity
might present itself,” she explained as she opened drawers and searched until
she came up with a rolling pin.
McCoy
watched as she began to roll the dough in long, smooth strokes. “Kind of like
when you first met me?” he suggested lightly.
She
quickly looked up at him and just as quickly looked back down. After a few
seconds she shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so. Only for different reasons.”
“And have
I told you lately how glad I am that you changed your mind on the issue?” he
asked teasingly.
Morgan’s
smile returned as she began cutting circles out of the dough with a cookie
cutter. “As a matter of fact, you haven’t.”
“My
oversight,” he readily admitted. Sitting back a little he asked, “So exactly
how old were you when you were kissed for the first time?”
“Hmm …
let me think.” She chewed her lip while re-rolling the leftover scraps of dough
together. “I had already passed the bar and received my license, so that means
I was … twenty-two at the time.”
“Twenty-two?!”
“Yes, I
was twenty-two,” she retorted. “Like I said, practically an old maid.”
He
coughed out a breath and opened his mouth to reply, but stopped short when a
thought occurred to him. Studying her carefully as she placed the last of the
biscuits on a cookie sheet he queried softly, “Frank was the first man to kiss
you?”
Without
looking up she nodded. “Yes. He was.”
After
thinking for a minute more he asked, “Then he was the first man you were with,
in the Biblical sense, I mean?”
Morgan
turned away from him to place the pan in the oven and answered quietly, “Yes.”
He slid
from the counter and moved to stand beside her as she set the timer on the
stove. “So does that mean I’m only the second guy you’ve ever kissed?”
“Yes, you
are,” she agreed, avoiding his eyes.
McCoy
slipped his arms around her and drew her near. “And how did I get so lucky?”
She
looked up at him, regarding him with serious eyes. A slow smile finally came to
her. “In a word, persistence.”
Tightening his arms he grinned. “I knew that was going to pay off
someday.”
***McCoy
heard the dogs barking long before he heard the sound of the truck that was
carrying them coming up the gravel road. By the time it rolled to a stop beside
the fence, he was already on his way to meet it.
“How’re
you doing this morning, Jack?” Miller asked loudly over the din after rolling
down the window.
“Fine,
thanks. And yourself?” he responded as he approached.
“Can’t
complain.” Motioning toward the pasture beyond the barns he said, “I’ve got a
cow that’s due to calve most any day now and I’m headin’ up to check on her.
Want to come along?”
“Sure,”
he nodded readily.
As McCoy
walked around and began to climb into the cab, Miller let out a sharp whistle
and immediately the dogs were silent.
“Can’t
have them spooking the cattle,” Miller said by way of explanation as he began
to back up. Once they were headed toward the pasture he added, “I saw Calea a
little while ago when I was coming back from town. I see she hasn’t given up
running yet.”
“No, she
hasn’t,” McCoy agreed. “And I don’t think she ever will. I was a little
concerned about her running out here alone but she assured me it was safe. I
hope she wasn’t just saying that to keep me from worrying.”
“Oh, no,
she’ll be fine. She knows not to get too far off the road in the weeds where
she might stumble across a snake.”
Shaking
his head, McCoy smiled. “Only in Texas would you have to be more concerned
about the snakes slithering on the ground than the ones that walk on two feet.
I hadn’t even thought of worrying about that.”
Miller
glanced over at him, then let out a laugh. “I suppose you’re right. But I don’t
think you have to worry about either kind right now. We’re too far off the
beaten path to attract the two-legged kind and it’s a little early in the
season for the others to be out yet. They don’t much care for the cold.”
“That’s
good to hear,” McCoy heartily agreed. “On both counts.”
After
another chuckle Miller said, “You know, back when I was playing high school
football, I used to run with Calea now and then. I could never go for as long
as she did, though. I swear, sometimes it seemed like she ran for hours.” He
was quiet a moment before adding, “Looked like she was headed for the cemetery
when I saw her earlier.”
McCoy
looked at him sharply. “The cemetery?” At Miller’s nod he noted, “She didn’t
tell me she was going there. I would’ve offered to drive her if I had known she
wanted to go.”
“I didn’t
think she had told you.” He looked out of the window for a moment before
continuing, “There are a lot of ghosts for her here, Jack. It isn’t hard to
understand why she’s stayed away.”
With a
nod McCoy agreed, “She’s having a hard time with it. She didn’t sleep well
last night. And she was up this morning before I was.” Glancing at the other
man he suddenly felt the need to explain, not wanting to leave him with the
wrong impression. “When I got up in the night, I noticed on the way back to bed
that she wasn’t in your son’s room where she’s sleeping. I found her sitting
outside.”
Miller
shook his head. “To be honest, I was surprised when she told me she was coming.
I didn’t think she ever would. I figured we had seen the last of her at Papa
Morgan’s funeral. I guess I’m the one responsible for making her feel like she
had to come down. It wasn’t my intention to try and force her hand but I thought
maybe she would be ready to sell this place and finally let go of the past, since so much time has passed. And especially considering that she
never really considered this place home, not like the property she lost after
the accident.”
“I have
to take some of the responsibility for her trip here,” McCoy admitted. “I’m the
one who suggested she come and take a look at it again. She was having a
difficult time making up her mind and I thought it might help to see it once
more. Maybe it was the wrong thing to do. Like you said, there do seem to be a
lot of ghosts.”
“Too many
things happened. It was all too much for her.”
Turning
toward him slightly, McCoy acknowledged, “It couldn’t have been easy for you,
either. Calea told me that you and her brother were best friends.”
“Yeah,”
he answered simply.
“And you
named your son after him?” McCoy asked quietly.
“It was
something I felt I should do, out of respect and because of what he and I had
shared,” the other man nodded. “You know, I’ve lost several people I’ve been
close to. Both my parents now, a cousin I spent a lot of time with, and two or
three others. But none of those deaths have been quite as difficult to get
over. I guess some of it had to do with our ages at the time. At sixteen, I
didn’t have much experience at that sort of thing. But mostly it was the
senselessness and the fact that it didn’t have to happen. It was all such a
tremendous waste.”
McCoy
nodded sadly. “I know what you mean. I went through something similar myself.”
“I’m
sorry to hear that,” Miller offered sincerely. Shaking his head as they crept
across the bumpy pasture at a snail’s pace, he continued, “My dad wasn’t a man
to use swear words, ever. His dad was a preacher so that sort of thing just
wasn’t done. But I remember sitting out back after we came home from the
funerals, trying to make sense of it all, and Dad came out to sit with me. We
talked for a while about life and death, then, out of the blue, he said, ‘That
drunken bastard. I hope he rots in hell.’ It was the first and only time I ever
heard my father use that kind of language. And I agreed with him wholeheartedly.
Instant death was too good for Henry Morgan.”
“Calea
doesn’t talk about him much. In fact, the only time she ever did was when she
told me about the accident. It didn’t sound like they had a good relationship.”
“No one had
a good relationship with her father. He was a mean drunk. As long as you caught
him early enough in the day he was a decent guy – give you the shirt off his
back or help you in your fields until it was too dark to see during harvest.
But if you got to him after noon or so, once he had time to down a few, it was a different story. Almost any conversation with him after that would almost
surely end in an argument. And arguing with a drunk is pointless.”
“What
about Calea’s mother? What was she like?”
“She was
sweet. I remember her as always having something good to say about everyone. I
know the situation couldn’t have been easy for her, though. It wasn’t like she
could up and leave. Her father had given them land to live on and in exchange
they helped out on the farm. She was kind of stuck between helping take care of
her dad and living with a man who could fly into a rage at the drop of a hat.
Knowing what I did about his father, I asked Travis once if his dad ever lit
into his mom. He just kind of laughed if off, saying his dad knew better. It
was always like that. He was always shrugging off the things his old man did,
making excuses, pretending it didn’t bother him. But I knew better. Henry
Morgan may or may not have hit his wife, but he certainly didn’t have a problem
beating his kids. And they were good kids, both of them. There was just no call
for the way he treated them. I can remember Calea coming over to the house one
day, looking for Travis, and you could see the welts on her legs from the old
man’s belt. Two days later they had turned to bruises. And she was always such
a little thing. Travis used to take the blame whenever he could, to try to
protect her, but it didn’t usually do any good. The old man would beat them
both in that case. And there was no rhyme or reason to his punishment. One
time, he’d watch them do something and it would be fine. The next time they did
the same thing, he’d knock them off of their feet without a word of warning. I
think that was the hardest on the kids, the not knowing where they stood or
what was going to set him off.”
“Didn’t
anyone ever report him? Send the authorities?” McCoy asked, trying to suppress
the all too familiar feelings of anger and resentment.
“You have
to remember that we’re talking about the sixties, here. No one reported stuff
like that. People whipped their kids; it was a fact of life. If some got a
little over-zealous, well, the kids probably deserved it, or so was the
thinking. Things weren’t like they are now, with kids suing their parents or
being taken away over the slightest thing.”
McCoy
sighed and looked out of the window. “Things have changed. I see the results of
a lot of those societal shifts come through my office every day. While it’s
helpful to have agencies in place to protect kids, even from their parents if
necessary, change isn’t always a good thing.”
“Through
your office?”
Turning
back to face him McCoy replied, “I’m a prosecutor in the Manhattan D.A.’s
office.”
“Is that
how you and Calea met?”
“Yes, it is.
She was representing a friend of hers who had been falsely accused of a crime,
and I was prosecuting. Over the course of the trial we became friends.”
“It takes
a pretty special friend to be willing to fly across the country with someone,” Miller
suggested.
With a
nod he agreed, “The relationship has developed in the past year or so.”
“I
thought so. I’ve never seen Calea look at anyone the way she looks at you.”
“Really?”
McCoy asked in surprise. At Miller’s nod he smiled and noted, “That’s nice to know.”
Miller returned the smile, then asked, “Did you know her ex-husband?”
“I spoke
with him a few times,” he admitted guardedly.
“What was
he like? Did he treat Calea well?”
McCoy
hesitated a moment, choosing his words carefully. “By the time I met Frank Tyler
they had been divorced for several years. But, no, he didn’t treat her well. It
was good that she left him.”
“That’s
too bad. I suspected that things weren’t good between them. We’ve kept in
touch over the years and when she was first married, her letters were full of
news about her husband. She sounded really happy. But then she started
mentioning him less and less. She tried to keep her letters light but on the
occasions we talked on the phone, she didn’t sound very happy at all as time
went on.”
“She
wasn’t. It’s taking her a long time to get over that relationship.”
“I’m
sorry to hear that. She deserved better after everything else she went
through.” Miller let the truck roll to a stop and then pointed. “There’s my
cow. Looks like she’s all right.” As the cattle began to notice and approach
them, he pulled the parking brake. “I’m going to throw out some feed and coax
her and the rest of the herd back to the house. I want to lock her in the pen
tonight. One of my neighbors lost a calf to coyotes the other night so I don’t
want to take any chances. With you and Calea staying at the house, y’all can
keep an eye on her for me.”
As Miller
got out McCoy cautiously followed suit. By that time, the seventy or so head
of cattle were nearing the truck, with some of them breaking into a run. He
wasn’t exactly sure what a stampede looked like, but it seemed pretty close as
far as he was concerned.
“One of
us needs to sit in the back here and throw out a handful of hay every now and
then while the other drives,” Miller explained as he lowered the tailgate.
“I’ll sit
back here,” McCoy volunteered, motioning to where the dogs stood happily
wagging their tails.
Miller
pulled a large fistful of hay from the bale. “You just take about this much
and every few yards, throw it out. Make sure at least some of them see you do
it so they’ll keep following. Whistle or holler at them to get their attention
if they get sidetracked with eating.”
“I can do
that,” McCoy nodded, taking a seat on the tailgate and picking up a handful of
hay. To his surprise, as Miller pushed the bale around the dogs and closer to
the back of the truck bed, a large cow with good-sized horns walked right up
and took a mouthful from him, wrapping her long tongue around his hand in the process.
Leaning back as far from her and her horns as possible he declared, “I may be
wrong, but I don’t think that being licked by a cow is going to be the high
point of my trip. Her tongue feels like ... slimy sandpaper.”
Miller
chuckled as he headed back to the cab. “Yeah, I kind of hope that isn’t the
high point of your trip, Jack.” Before he got in he added, “If we look like
we’re losing them, holler at me and I’ll slow down or stop until they catch up.
And keep your eye on the black one over there without horns. She’s the one I
want to pen. She’s already got her milk in, so she’s going to have her calf any
time now. She may be a little slower than the rest.”
***Out of the corner of his eye McCoy saw Morgan
walking toward the pen as the pick-up truck approached the barn. When she
reached the gate, she unlatched it and swung it back, then fastened it open
against the fence.
Miller
pulled to a stop beside the barn and Morgan approached the truck. “There you
are. I was beginning to think you may’ve taken off after some cattle rustlers
or something.”
As he
helped Miller pull one of the bales from the bed McCoy replied, “No, but I
think I know how to rustle them now.
All it takes is a little hay and they’ll follow you anywhere.”
While McCoy
reached for another bale, Miller tossed the first one into the pen. Morgan
immediately began pulling the wire from it and breaking it into smaller chunks.
“Actually, I met Simon on the road while I was running and he told me he
was going to ask you to help,” Morgan told him as he dropped the second bale
beside her. Giving him a smile she asked, “Having fun?”
“I am,”
he nodded earnestly before returning for another bale.
“You can
take that one to the other side of the pen, through the gate, and break it up a
little,” Miller informed him. “Once we get them in here we’ll have to cull all
but the one cow out. You can use that hay to coax them out the other side.”
By that
time several of the cows had caught up with them and began hurrying into the
pen where Morgan continued to spread hay. McCoy broke the bale next to him
apart and spread it out, then took his position beside the gate to wait while
more cows filed in.
“That’s
her,” Miller finally pointed out, unfastening the gate and walking it closed
behind the large black cow. Once it was latched, he returned to the truck to
throw the remaining hay for the cows that found themselves outside the pen and
those still approaching. He then made his way around the pen to stand beside
McCoy.
“Is she
safe in there?” McCoy asked, becoming somewhat concerned as the cattle milled
around Morgan. “They look like they could knock her over and trample her
without even knowing it.”
“She’s
fine. These cows are used to people so they’re all fairly gentle. But that’s
why she’s talking to them, to let them know where she is so they won’t knock
her down.” He pointed to a group of cows closest to them. “I’m going to go in
and get between them and the rest of the cows. Once I do, open the gate and
I’ll shoo them out. Keep an eye out for the one due to calve, though. If she
starts heading this way, close the gate. We’ll never get her back in if she
gets spooked.”
McCoy
stood ready and watched for his cue. When the group of cows began pushing their
way toward him, he opened the gate. On seeing that they hadn’t seemed to
notice, he walked a couple of steps out and picked up a chunk of hay, then
shook it. The gesture immediately caught one large red cow’s attention and she
headed toward him. The others quickly followed and McCoy swung the gate closed
until Miller had separated out some more. They repeated the process until all
but half a dozen cows remained in the pen.
Several
of the remaining cows, upon noticing that most of the others were munching
contentedly outside the pen, began to grow restless, pacing the length of the
fence. At that point Miller came out to stand once again with McCoy.
“The
fewer people in there now, the better,” he explained. “Calea will get the rest
of them out.”
“By
herself?”
Miller
nodded. “She’s always had a way with animals, especially cows, even though they
aren’t the most cooperative animals in the world. She just talks to them and
takes her time. Sooner or later, she gets them to do what she wants.”
Morgan
began gathering some of the hay scattered about the pen and throwing it over
the fence near the gate where the two men stood. Before long it had the
desired affect and three of the cows were near enough that, once McCoy opened
the gate, they trotted out of their own accord and quickly headed for the feed.
After several more attempts the other three had joined them.
“I’m
going to grab another bale from the barn to leave for her,” Miller told him as
he slipped through the gate and began heading across the pen.
McCoy joined
Morgan as she stood talking softly to the remaining cow.
“She’s
pretty, isn’t she?” Morgan asked him. “All of the cows look really good.
They’re nice and fat.”
“Can you
tell when she’s going to have her calf?” he asked, eyeing the cow curiously.
“In the next day or so, probably. Her bag is
fairly full, which means her first milk has come in. It won’t be long now.”
After
breaking apart the bale of hay he had retrieved, Miller joined them. “Thanks
for the help. I appreciate it.”
“Any
time,” Morgan smiled. “I forgot how much I enjoy working with animals.”
“Yeah.
The ones with four legs seemed a lot easier than some of those I deal with that
have only two,” McCoy noted dryly.
With a
chuckle Miller shook his head. “Then I’m glad I don’t have your job, Jack.”
Motioning to the cow in front of them he added, “Travis is hoping to get his
4-H project from Molly, here. He raised a sheep last year and received an
honorable mention at the livestock show. This year he’s determined to win. We
had Molly bred to a pure-blood Angus bull so she should have a decent-looking
calf.”
“She’s a
good-looking cow,” Morgan acknowledged. “My grandpa always used to tell me that
the ones with short legs and a long body had the best calves.”
“If there
was one thing your grandpa knew about, it was cows,” Miller nodded. As he began
leading the way out of the pen he noted, “Lisa and I would like for the two of
you to come up to the house this evening and have dinner with us, if you’re up
to it. There’s a pile of brush I’ve been needing to burn so we were thinking of
starting a bonfire once the wind dies down. I’ve been keeping the boys busy but
they’re eager to meet the both of you. They’ve heard enough stories about you,
Calea, to be plenty curious.”
“Stories?
What kind of stories?” Morgan queried suspiciously.
Miller
shrugged. “Just stories. Like how the calf you let follow you into the house
peed all over your Mama’s kitchen floor when you were nine.”
As McCoy
broke into a fit of laughter, Morgan shook her head and explained, “Not one of
my better ideas. I thought I’d never get it cleaned up. It wasn’t like when a
dog pees on the floor. Calves can hold a lot
of water.”
“So can
we expect you at about 6:00?” Miller asked with a grin.
Morgan looked
at McCoy. “Is that okay with you?”
“Sure,”
he quickly agreed. “We’ll be there.”
“Good.
Lisa will be glad to hear it.”
“Tell her
not to make dessert,” Morgan admonished. “We’ll bring something with us.”
Miller
waved as he climbed back into the truck. “See you then.”
After he
had pulled away, Morgan and McCoy began walking toward the house.
“Despite
what they said about us eating whatever we find, I’d like to go into to town
and pick up a few groceries of our own,” Morgan informed him as she dusted hay
from her jeans. “I’ll make a cheesecake or something to take over with us
tonight. I’m sure I’ll need a few things for that, anyway.”
“Okay.
Just let me wash up first. I’d like to get the cow spit off of my hands before
we go,” McCoy pointed out with a smile.
***“Dinner was absolutely delicious, Lisa,” McCoy
informed her as he handed her a stack of plates. “I could definitely get used
to the way people cook around here.”
“Well,
thank you, Jack. I’m glad you enjoyed it,” she responded.
“Is there
anything else I can do?” he asked, surveying the kitchen.
“Not a
thing,” she replied. “You can go on out with the rest of the boys, if you want.
I know you’re dying to set fire to something, too.”
With a
grin he asked, “How’d you know?”
She shook her head. “I just know boys. My
three will use any excuse. You go out and have fun.”
“Yes,
ma’am,” he smiled.
As he was
about to make his way out of the kitchen, Morgan came in and said, “I think I
have the dining room put back the way it was, Lisa. And this is the last of the
dishes.”
“Thanks,
Hon. Just set them by the sink.”
“Where
are you headed?” Morgan asked McCoy.
“I was
about to go outside,” he told her. “Want to come?”
“I’ll be
out in a few minutes as soon as I finish helping Lisa.”
“There
isn’t much left to do,” Mrs. Miller informed her. “If you want to go out with
him, go ahead.”
“That’s
okay. I’ll wait,” Morgan replied.
McCoy
bent and kissed her cheek. “Don’t be too long. I wouldn’t want you to miss any
of the fun.”
She
smiled at his eager expression. “I won’t. And you be careful. Try to see to it
that no one sets the pasture on fire.”
“You
don’t need to worry,” he admonished in mock indignation. “We men know what we’re
doing.”
“Famous
last words,” she called as he headed for the door.
“Are you
sure you don’t want to go with him? I won’t mind a bit,” Mrs. Miller promised.
“We’ll
let them do guy stuff for a few minutes,” Morgan answered. “It’ll be good for
them.”
“I really
like Jack. He’s such a nice man, so thoughtful.”
“He has
his moments,” Morgan agreed with a smile.
The other
woman studied her briefly, then observed, “He makes you happy.”
“Yes, he
does,” Morgan admitted quietly. “He’s been there for me through some tough
times. I’m not entirely sure why he’s done so, but it’s been nice.”
“That’s
what a good man does – sticks by you, come what may. There have been times when
I know for a fact I wouldn’t have made it without Simon holding my hand. Just
from what I’ve seen since you’ve been here, I’d have to say that Jack’s a good
man, too,” she decided.
With a
nod Morgan concurred softly, “So would I.”
***The moderately-sized pile of brush crackled
and popped as the fire took hold. In the cool night air the fire brought a
comfortable warmth to the people seated in lawn chairs several feet away from
it, their faces reflecting the glow from the flames.
McCoy
gestured with the hand that wasn’t entwined with Morgan’s. “This is what we
need on your roof. A nice big fire to stare into since we can rarely see any
stars.”
“That
would be nice,” Morgan agreed wryly, “until someone called the fire department.
Getting doused with a water hose would probably kill the mood.”
With a
quiet chuckle he nodded. “I can see your point.”
“Toby,
come away from there,” his mother scolded as the boy got up to toss a stick
into the flames. “Come sit down and stop throwing things into the fire. You’re
going to burn yourself or someone else.”
Doing as
he was told, he plopped into a chair between his mother and Morgan. Giving her
a sideways glance he asked, “My dad says you once had a pet gopher, Aunt
Calea. Is that true?”
Morgan
nodded. “I found him after a hurricane came through several miles down the
coast and we got the rainy side of it. Everything was flooded and I walked out
and found this little gopher clinging to a tree limb that had fallen to the
ground. He was half-drowned so I took him home.”
“You
did?” the boy asked excitedly. “What did you do with him?”
“I kept
him in a shoe box and fed him carrots, potatoes, and other vegetables until I
had nursed him back to health. Then one night he got out, and when my dad tried
to catch him, he bit my dad’s finger. The next day I had to let him go.”
“Mr.
Anderson down the road pays us fifty cents a piece to trap gophers out of his
garden,” Travis chimed in. “I never thought of having one as a pet.”
“They’re
pretty fun,” Morgan informed him. “But they do bite. And their teeth keep
growing unless they gnaw on something so you have to give them sticks or other
pieces of wood to chew on.”
“I once
trapped one that had huge, long teeth,” Toby claimed, holding his fingers to
his mouth in demonstration. “They were growing down over his lip. They were
ugly.”
“We found
a baby opossum once,” Travis added. “But my Mom wouldn’t let us keep it. She
made us take it back to where we found it.”
“I had a
friend once with a pet opossum,” Morgan said. “It was mean. I didn’t like the
way it always hissed at me. My wish as a kid was to have a pet raccoon. I
thought they were cute.”
“We know
a kid at school who has one,” Toby nodded. “She washes her food before she eats
it. Sometimes we give her sugar cubes. It’s funny to see her wash them and then
look for them when they dissolve.”
“Do you
go to the school down the road from here?” McCoy asked.
Toby
nodded. “Yes, Sir. It’s the same school where my mom, my dad, and Aunt Calea went.”
“It has
to be the smallest school I’ve ever seen,” McCoy stated. “How many grades does
it have?”
“They
teach eight there, now,” Miller explained. “Both of the buildings have a
partition down the middle, with two grades on each side. Back when Calea, Lisa,
and I attended, they taught all twelve grades. There was one teacher and
usually fifteen or so students for three grades combined. The teacher would
explain an assignment for one grade and while they were working on it she’d teach the other ones. Sometimes it was a little distracting but it usually
worked out fine.”
“When we
attended the buildings also doubled as a community center. The partitions
could be folded back so the whole area opened up, in case someone wanted to
hold a dance,” Morgan added with a smile.
McCoy
shook his head. “It’s like a whole different world here from where I grew up.
The school I attended had a lot of kids in it, even back then.”
“It’s my
last year in that school,” Toby offered. “Next year I’ll go to high school.
Travis already goes there.”
“And are you
looking forward to it?” McCoy asked him.
“Yes,
Sir,” he nodded eagerly. “They have a snack bar and everything.”
“Leave it
to you to be interested in the food aspect, Toby,” Miller noted with an
affectionate smile.
“Tell us
some more things you did when you were a kid,” Toby suggested to Morgan.
“I can’t
think of anything at the moment,” she responded.
“Oh come
on, now,” Miller said teasingly. “What about the times you and your brother put
ears of corn in the water trough just to watch the cows bob for them? Or tested
to see whether all of your cats could swim?”
Morgan
leaned forward deliberately in order to get a clear view of Miller. “And have
you told them any of the things you
did as a kid?” she asked pointedly. “For instance, did you ever tell them about
the time you took me for a ride on the back of your motorcycle and threw me
into a ditch full of water when you tried to pop a wheelie?”
As Miller
chuckled McCoy asked, “Is he the one you told me about?”
She
nodded and concurred, “He’s the one.”
“In that
case, I have a bone to pick with you,” McCoy acknowledged good-naturedly,
addressing Miller. “It was like pulling teeth to get Calea to ride on my
motorcycle with me for the first time. She kept telling me about this boy she
had ridden with who drove like a maniac. I want you to know that you scared her
so bad, you just about ruined her from ever riding with me.”
Shaking
her head Morgan insisted, “I keep telling you, I wasn’t scared. I was
cautious. Being thrown into a ditch will do that to you!”
Miller
let out a laugh and said, “Sorry about that, Jack. I guess I had my share of
wild moments in my younger days.”
“If you
had a motorcycle when you were growing up, why won’t you let me have one?”
Travis asked his father.
Miller
gave Morgan a disapproving look. “Do you see what you’ve started?”
“Yes, I
do,” she answered happily. “And I think you should answer your son’s question.”
He shook
his head and asked, “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a trouble-maker?”
“Who, me?”
Morgan queried innocently. “Never!”
“Somehow
I find that difficult to believe!” Miller declared.
***Morgan and McCoy strolled along with the
Miller family out of the yard surrounding the rambling house.
“Thank
you again for dinner,” McCoy said, patting his stomach. “If I stay around here
much longer, you’re going to have to put me to work to keep the pounds off.”
“You’re
quite welcome,” Mrs. Miller acknowledged. “And thank you for bringing dessert.
The apple cheesecake was simply wonderful. You’ll have to give me the recipe,
Calea.”
“I’ll
write it down for,” Morgan promised. “It’s fairly easy to make.”
“So what
do the two of you have planned for tomorrow?” Miller questioned.
Glancing
first at Morgan, McCoy answered, “Not anything, really. We’re sort of playing
things by ear.”
“Well,
tomorrow night is family night down at the dance hall. We were wondering if the
two of you would like to go with us. They’ve got a pretty good band there. That
is if y’all are up to a little boot scootin’,” Miller suggested with a smile.
“Sounds
like fun,” McCoy admitted. He looked at Morgan, raising his eyebrows. “What do
you think?”
“It’s
okay with me,” she agreed. “What time were you thinking of going?”
“Probably
around six or so,” Miller responded. “We’ll have to make an early night of it
since the boys have school the next day. That doesn’t mean the two of you can’t
stay longer, though. We could take separate vehicles.”
“That
sounds good,” McCoy nodded. “We’ll plan on it.”
***“I can’t believe you let them keep the entire cheesecake,” McCoy grumbled in
mock reprimand as he steered the rented Jeep down the gravel road. “I could’ve
gone for one more piece before bedtime.”
Shaking
her head in amusement from the passenger’s side, Morgan assured him, “I’ll make
you one of your very own once we’re home. The one we took with us tonight I
made for Toby and Travis. Surely you wouldn’t deny them.”
With a
smile he noted, “I like how they call you ‘Aunt Calea.’ It’s cute.”
She nodded
in the darkness. “It’s sort of fitting, in a way. After the accident Simon took
on the role of being my big brother. He watched out for me at school and walked
me home every day. What he did went a long way in helping me to deal with what
happened. I really owe him a lot. Of course, my feelings towards him weren’t
always exactly ‘brotherly’. For a while I had a pretty big crush on him.”
“For
Simon? Did he know?”
“I hope
not. I was only ten at the time,” she admitted.
McCoy
chuckled as he pulled to a stop in front of the fence. “Somehow I doubt he
would’ve minded.”
“We
should walk out and check on his cow,” she reminded him. “This isn’t her first
calf so there shouldn’t be any complications but it won’t hurt to keep an eye
on her.”
As they
made their way to the pens, McCoy glanced up at the night sky and stopped in
his tracks. Letting out a low whistle he noted, “I can see what you meant the time you
told me about the stars here appearing as though they’re right above the trees.
This is incredible!”
“It’s
finally clear tonight,” she observed. “I was afraid it might stay cloudy the
whole time we were here. I really wanted you to be able to see the stars.”
“They’re
beautiful. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite like it.” After gazing
up in wonder at the sky for a few moments more, he looked down to find Morgan
watching him carefully with a little smile on her face. Giving her a warm smile
in return he reached his hand out for hers. “Being able to see the night sky
alone would be worth the trip here.”
Entwining
her fingers with his she said, “I’m glad you think so.”
When they
reached the plank fence they surveyed the pen. The vapor light mounted on the
far side of the barn shone down on one lone cow.
“No
little surprise, yet,” Morgan commented. “Maybe tomorrow.”
McCoy
rested one foot on the bottom plank, contemplating as he and Morgan watched the
cow. “You know, I could get used to this
life.”
Her
eyebrows arched. “Oh you could?”
“What?
You can’t picture me in a pair of overalls and a straw hat?”
She let
out a laugh. “Not really. Somehow I don’t think being a farmer would suit
you.”
“Oh, I
wouldn’t be a farmer,” he quickly corrected her. “I’d be a rancher. I have a
way with cows, you know. They like me.”
Morgan
giggled again and shook her head. “I hate to be the one to burst your bubble,
but cows are ruled by their stomachs. They like anyone who will feed them.”
“I think
there’s a little more to it than that,” he argued in mock indignation.
She gave
him a smile and patted his arm patronizingly. “Of course there is. I’m sure
you’d make a wonderful rancher.”
“You bet
I would,” he insisted succinctly. At her amused smile he noted, “It must have
been great to grow up here. What a place to live as a kid.”
Morgan’s
smiled faded a bit even though she nodded her agreement. “It was a good place
to grow up. If I had kids, no matter where I lived, I think I’d have to find a
place outside of the city to raise them. There’s just something different about
growing up in the country away from the rat-race. It gives you a different
perspective on life.”
“I can
see where it would,” he concurred. Noting her expression he added quietly, “Of
course, I know your childhood could’ve been better. Simon and I had a chance to
visit today and he told me a little of what it was like, even before the
accident. It sounds like although you and I grew up worlds apart, it was under
similar circumstances.”
Morgan
turned away and began to slowly head toward the house with McCoy following suit.
Reaching for her hand, he slid it with his into his coat pocket, then walked
quietly beside her while she acknowledged, “I suppose it wasn’t the
greatest. But as bad as it could be at times, it was nothing compared to the
way things were after the accident. I can remember sitting on the steps at
night with the overwhelming feeling of not wanting to be here, of wanting my
old life back. And then the frustration of knowing that it could never be. For
all the problems our family had, the alternative of not having them at all was
so much worse. I didn’t really appreciate what I had until it was lost
forever.”
“Yeah,”
he agreed softly. “I know what that feels like.”
She
glanced up at him, then nodded. “I guess you do. Something else we have in
common.”
He pulled
her to a stop and turned to face her, drawing her close with his
free arm. “There’s a lot to be said for sharing similar circumstances, good or
bad. It makes it easier for each of us to understand what the other has been through,
what we felt. Maybe it’s those similarities and that understanding that drew us
to each other in the first place, even though we might not have recognized that
in the beginning. And it might be what cements our relationship and gets us
through whatever we may face in the future.”
Morgan
smiled as she looked up at him. “I think all of this fresh Texas air is turning
you into a philosopher. Or maybe it’s this simple life, tending the garden and
caring for the animals, that has inspired you.”
Giving
her a smile he said, “I told you I could get used to this life.” Wrapping his
arm around her tighter, he leaned down and kissed her underneath the blanket
of stars.
***Upon making what was becoming an annoyingly
familiar trip to the bathroom in the night, McCoy silently vowed to cut back on
his intake of iced tea. Stumbling back toward the bedroom, he paused at the
doorway to Morgan’s and peered inside. He wasn’t surprised to find the bed
empty and immediately turned around to head for the front door. But upon
passing through the living room, he caught site of her curled up in one of the
upholstered chairs, sound asleep. Making his way silently toward her, he took
note of the way her hands were tucked between her knees and her shoulders
hunched. He stopped beside the chair as he contemplated picking her up and
carrying her back to bed. She didn’t look all that comfortable in the cramped
confines and he knew she had to be cold. But she appeared to be sleeping
peacefully so he decided not to risk waking her. Instead, he went to the
bedroom and took the comforter from the bed she had abandoned and then returned
to place it gently over her. When she continued sleeping without making any
movement, he carefully brushed a lock of hair from her cheek, then turned and
walked quietly away.