Silver Bastard
Page 69
“Union boys say he’s got potential,” Earl added. “You could do worse.”
I swallowed. “I’m seeing Puck Redhouse.”
Silence.
Looking up, I found both of them staring at me.
“I know things were strange between me and him . . .”
“That’s an understatement,” Regina said. “Now just because you dropped a bomb on us doesn’t mean you can stop scooping the pie. Maybe you’re not ready yet.”
“To date Puck?”
“No, to be in charge of huckleberry pie,” she replied, biting back a smile. “Can’t say I’m surprised about Redhouse. I saw him watching you at the Breakfast Table the other day. He’s always had it bad for you. I just didn’t realize you felt the same way.”
“I’m not sure it’s a good idea,” I admitted. “It’s kind of scary—but he makes me happy, too.”
“You’re stepping out of your comfort zone,” she replied. “That’s always scary. Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do it. You make sure he treats you right and it’ll all work out fine.”
Ten minutes later I sat back in my chair, stuffed nearly to the point of popping.
“You want another piece?” Regina asked. I shook my head—I’d be able to go without eating for a week after that meal. Thank God I didn’t have to work afterward, either, because just standing up to clear the table almost killed me.
“Can you do the dishes?” Earl asked Regina, startling me. “I’ve got that thing for our girl out in the garage. Probably even more important now, all things considered.”
Regina glanced at him, an entire conversation taking place silently between them.
“Sure thing—you two take care of your business.”
He winked at her, then stood and stretched, looking pleased with himself.
“So what’s going on?” I asked once we were outside.
“This business with your mom—it’s bad news,” he said. “And you still don’t know how it’ll play out. Say she really did decide to leave him, come up here. Would you be safe?”
“She’s not coming,” I said flatly. “You didn’t hear her. She’s just playing me for money. Again.”
“If that’s the case, she’s obviously desperate,” he replied. “And desperate people are dangerous. I’ve got a bad feeling about all of this. Proud of you for standing up to her, but I don’t think it’s over. Got something I want you to start carrying.”
My eyes widened as he walked over to the huge, custom-welded sheet metal cabinet he kept his tools and guns in. It’d come from the Laughing Tess back in the day, where he’d spent close to thirty years underground before McDonogh Corp. laid him off two years back. Working for the school had been a big step down for him, but he’d handled it with grace.
Earl fiddled with the padlock, something that’d always seemed out of place to me because they didn’t even lock their front door. Then he opened it and pulled an old cigar box off one of the shelves, carrying it back over to his workbench.
He lifted the lid, revealing a small revolver inlaid with mother-of-pearl on the stock.
“This belonged to my mother,” he said, his voice strong and plain. “My dad gave it to her when he left for World War II. She’d married him the day before. I’d like you to have it.”
My eyes widened.
“I can’t take that,” I whispered.
“Yes, you can,” he said. “This is a great weapon, and still in beautiful condition. It’s small and light, designed for a woman’s hand. Not only that, it’s completely untraceable. I hope you never have to use it, but if Teeny Patchel ever shows his face up here, I want you to take this and put a bullet in his brain. Then you call me and we’ll figure out what to do with the body. You keep Puck Redhouse in line, too.”
My mouth dropped.
“You can’t be serious.”
“You know me better, little girl. I never joke about guns.”
This was true. Earl had hunted his entire life. He’d shot the deer we’d eaten for dinner, and he’d taught me how to dress and butcher a kill the first year I lived with them, because “anyone who owns a gun should know exactly what a bullet can do to a living creature.”
“I don’t think I’ll need to shoot anyone.”
“Good,” he replied, smiling. “Let’s hope it never happens. But know this—we’re here for you. No matter what. You’re like our own flesh and blood, and there’s nothing you could do that’ll make us stop loving you.”
Tears welled up in my eyes and he coughed uncomfortably.
“Let’s go out and put her through her paces,” he said gruffly. I smiled and followed him out of the garage. They lived ten miles outside of town, straight up a mountainside, so Earl had his own little target range set up in the meadow.
He and I spent the next hour shooting, him telling corny jokes and me laughing as the light slowly faded. We’d spent so many evenings like this over the years. I’d never be a hunter and I could care less about guns, but I loved shooting with Earl.
Eventually it got dark enough that we couldn’t see the targets, so we called it quits. We strolled back to the house, where I saw Puck’s motorcycle parked right next to my little Subaru. That slowed me down. What was he doing here?
I swallowed. “I’m seeing Puck Redhouse.”
Silence.
Looking up, I found both of them staring at me.
“I know things were strange between me and him . . .”
“That’s an understatement,” Regina said. “Now just because you dropped a bomb on us doesn’t mean you can stop scooping the pie. Maybe you’re not ready yet.”
“To date Puck?”
“No, to be in charge of huckleberry pie,” she replied, biting back a smile. “Can’t say I’m surprised about Redhouse. I saw him watching you at the Breakfast Table the other day. He’s always had it bad for you. I just didn’t realize you felt the same way.”
“I’m not sure it’s a good idea,” I admitted. “It’s kind of scary—but he makes me happy, too.”
“You’re stepping out of your comfort zone,” she replied. “That’s always scary. Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do it. You make sure he treats you right and it’ll all work out fine.”
Ten minutes later I sat back in my chair, stuffed nearly to the point of popping.
“You want another piece?” Regina asked. I shook my head—I’d be able to go without eating for a week after that meal. Thank God I didn’t have to work afterward, either, because just standing up to clear the table almost killed me.
“Can you do the dishes?” Earl asked Regina, startling me. “I’ve got that thing for our girl out in the garage. Probably even more important now, all things considered.”
Regina glanced at him, an entire conversation taking place silently between them.
“Sure thing—you two take care of your business.”
He winked at her, then stood and stretched, looking pleased with himself.
“So what’s going on?” I asked once we were outside.
“This business with your mom—it’s bad news,” he said. “And you still don’t know how it’ll play out. Say she really did decide to leave him, come up here. Would you be safe?”
“She’s not coming,” I said flatly. “You didn’t hear her. She’s just playing me for money. Again.”
“If that’s the case, she’s obviously desperate,” he replied. “And desperate people are dangerous. I’ve got a bad feeling about all of this. Proud of you for standing up to her, but I don’t think it’s over. Got something I want you to start carrying.”
My eyes widened as he walked over to the huge, custom-welded sheet metal cabinet he kept his tools and guns in. It’d come from the Laughing Tess back in the day, where he’d spent close to thirty years underground before McDonogh Corp. laid him off two years back. Working for the school had been a big step down for him, but he’d handled it with grace.
Earl fiddled with the padlock, something that’d always seemed out of place to me because they didn’t even lock their front door. Then he opened it and pulled an old cigar box off one of the shelves, carrying it back over to his workbench.
He lifted the lid, revealing a small revolver inlaid with mother-of-pearl on the stock.
“This belonged to my mother,” he said, his voice strong and plain. “My dad gave it to her when he left for World War II. She’d married him the day before. I’d like you to have it.”
My eyes widened.
“I can’t take that,” I whispered.
“Yes, you can,” he said. “This is a great weapon, and still in beautiful condition. It’s small and light, designed for a woman’s hand. Not only that, it’s completely untraceable. I hope you never have to use it, but if Teeny Patchel ever shows his face up here, I want you to take this and put a bullet in his brain. Then you call me and we’ll figure out what to do with the body. You keep Puck Redhouse in line, too.”
My mouth dropped.
“You can’t be serious.”
“You know me better, little girl. I never joke about guns.”
This was true. Earl had hunted his entire life. He’d shot the deer we’d eaten for dinner, and he’d taught me how to dress and butcher a kill the first year I lived with them, because “anyone who owns a gun should know exactly what a bullet can do to a living creature.”
“I don’t think I’ll need to shoot anyone.”
“Good,” he replied, smiling. “Let’s hope it never happens. But know this—we’re here for you. No matter what. You’re like our own flesh and blood, and there’s nothing you could do that’ll make us stop loving you.”
Tears welled up in my eyes and he coughed uncomfortably.
“Let’s go out and put her through her paces,” he said gruffly. I smiled and followed him out of the garage. They lived ten miles outside of town, straight up a mountainside, so Earl had his own little target range set up in the meadow.
He and I spent the next hour shooting, him telling corny jokes and me laughing as the light slowly faded. We’d spent so many evenings like this over the years. I’d never be a hunter and I could care less about guns, but I loved shooting with Earl.
Eventually it got dark enough that we couldn’t see the targets, so we called it quits. We strolled back to the house, where I saw Puck’s motorcycle parked right next to my little Subaru. That slowed me down. What was he doing here?
