news, isn't it, Maggie?"
Duncan
said loudly, and reached down to set
his chair upright. "I've got to be running along now. Thanks for the meal.
And, Jesse ... it was good to see you
again. Take care." He disappeared.
"Well,"
Maggie muttered. "Easy come, easy go." Then she turned and pointed at
Jesse's drawn countenance. "And you, my dear, are due a rest. I don't
want any argument. King ..." she
pointed again, including him in her orders. "See that she minds for a
change."
Jesse stifled a
sob, threw her arms around Maggie's neck, and kissed the mass of tiny wrinkles
on her cheek.
"I love
you," Jesse whispered in her ear. "And I almost always mind
you." Then, ignoring Maggie's snort, she let King lead her from the
kitchen.
"Are you all
right?" he asked softly, as he watched carefully for any signs of undue
stress. He didn't want another flashback episode.
"Yes,"
she answered. "Thanks for helping me. I don't know what made me freeze up.
Hearing Captain Shockey's voice made everything come crashing back. For a few
hours today, I almost let myself believe that everything was more or less back
to normal. The phone call was just a bitter reminder of how I'd been fooling
myself.''
King struggled
with the urge to kiss every tiny frown that lined her forehead and made the
usual tilt of her mouth droop with despair. The more he was around her, the
more he had to struggle to keep his hands off. He didn't know what was
happening to him, but he knew whatever he was feeling for Jesse had nothing to
do with pity.
"Would you
mind running me a bath, King? I'm too sticky and dusty to sleep on anything but
the back porch unless I clean up."
King made himself
ignore the touch of her hand on his arm and refused to meet her eyes. He shoved
his hands deep in the front pockets of his
Levis
and muttered, more harshly than he
meant to, "Just use my shower. I've got to get back to the stables. There's
another buyer due soon and I don't want to be late."
He backed out of
her doorway and had to force himself not to run away from the stunned look on
her face. He knew he'd sounded harsh and impatient, but showing his true
feelings at a time like this didn't seem prudent. Hell! he thought as he
walked aimlessly toward the barns. / don't even know what my true feelings
are.
Jesse felt quick
tears fill her eyes at the harshness of his voice and his hasty exit. She'd
known this "coming home" thing wouldn't work from the beginning.
Unfortunately, for her own safety, she had no choice. No one saw her leaden
steps, or the droop of her shoulders, as she pushed the door to his room open
and quietly closed it behind her.
It was late
afternoon when King looked up from the rail he'd been nailing firmly back on
the corral fence by the barn. He saw a cloud of dust coming closer and closer
down the long driveway and frowned. He pulled an already damp handkerchief from
his hip pocket and halted the salty beads of moisture on his forehead just
before they slipped into his eyes. Then his heart quickened, and his feet
began to move toward the ranch house before his brain told him why they should.
It was the familiar shape of the white, four-door sedan and the long antenna
whip on the back of the vehicle identifying it as a police car that made the
hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He realized it would be another
sleepless night.
"Hell of a
deal," the sheriff said, as he solemnly greeted King. He'd known the McCandless
family for years, and held them in high regard. He had a daughter near Jesse
LeBeau's age, and knew how he would feel in similar circumstances. He hadn't
known of the attack on Jesse until he'd received the phone call and
instructions from
St. Louis
.
Later the same day, the special express package he now carried firmly in his
grasp had arrived, and he knew what he had to do.
"How's she
doing, King?" he asked.
"It's been
rough on her, Sheriff. But she's a survivor. She had to be or she wouldn't be
here today. I just hope to hell this is the
Duncan
said loudly, and reached down to set
his chair upright. "I've got to be running along now. Thanks for the meal.
And, Jesse ... it was good to see you
again. Take care." He disappeared.
"Well,"
Maggie muttered. "Easy come, easy go." Then she turned and pointed at
Jesse's drawn countenance. "And you, my dear, are due a rest. I don't
want any argument. King ..." she
pointed again, including him in her orders. "See that she minds for a
change."
Jesse stifled a
sob, threw her arms around Maggie's neck, and kissed the mass of tiny wrinkles
on her cheek.
"I love
you," Jesse whispered in her ear. "And I almost always mind
you." Then, ignoring Maggie's snort, she let King lead her from the
kitchen.
"Are you all
right?" he asked softly, as he watched carefully for any signs of undue
stress. He didn't want another flashback episode.
"Yes,"
she answered. "Thanks for helping me. I don't know what made me freeze up.
Hearing Captain Shockey's voice made everything come crashing back. For a few
hours today, I almost let myself believe that everything was more or less back
to normal. The phone call was just a bitter reminder of how I'd been fooling
myself.''
King struggled
with the urge to kiss every tiny frown that lined her forehead and made the
usual tilt of her mouth droop with despair. The more he was around her, the
more he had to struggle to keep his hands off. He didn't know what was
happening to him, but he knew whatever he was feeling for Jesse had nothing to
do with pity.
"Would you
mind running me a bath, King? I'm too sticky and dusty to sleep on anything but
the back porch unless I clean up."
King made himself
ignore the touch of her hand on his arm and refused to meet her eyes. He shoved
his hands deep in the front pockets of his
Levis
and muttered, more harshly than he
meant to, "Just use my shower. I've got to get back to the stables. There's
another buyer due soon and I don't want to be late."
He backed out of
her doorway and had to force himself not to run away from the stunned look on
her face. He knew he'd sounded harsh and impatient, but showing his true
feelings at a time like this didn't seem prudent. Hell! he thought as he
walked aimlessly toward the barns. / don't even know what my true feelings
are.
Jesse felt quick
tears fill her eyes at the harshness of his voice and his hasty exit. She'd
known this "coming home" thing wouldn't work from the beginning.
Unfortunately, for her own safety, she had no choice. No one saw her leaden
steps, or the droop of her shoulders, as she pushed the door to his room open
and quietly closed it behind her.
It was late
afternoon when King looked up from the rail he'd been nailing firmly back on
the corral fence by the barn. He saw a cloud of dust coming closer and closer
down the long driveway and frowned. He pulled an already damp handkerchief from
his hip pocket and halted the salty beads of moisture on his forehead just
before they slipped into his eyes. Then his heart quickened, and his feet
began to move toward the ranch house before his brain told him why they should.
It was the familiar shape of the white, four-door sedan and the long antenna
whip on the back of the vehicle identifying it as a police car that made the
hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He realized it would be another
sleepless night.
"Hell of a
deal," the sheriff said, as he solemnly greeted King. He'd known the McCandless
family for years, and held them in high regard. He had a daughter near Jesse
LeBeau's age, and knew how he would feel in similar circumstances. He hadn't
known of the attack on Jesse until he'd received the phone call and
instructions from
St. Louis
.
Later the same day, the special express package he now carried firmly in his
grasp had arrived, and he knew what he had to do.
"How's she
doing, King?" he asked.
"It's been
rough on her, Sheriff. But she's a survivor. She had to be or she wouldn't be
here today. I just hope to hell this is the
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