Page 13 of Cowboy's Last Stand
“Listen up,” Jason said, interrupting him.
“Yeah?”
“I’m going to fix your screen door, but I need some tools.”
Marcus finished his breakfast quickly.“OK.”
“Does your mom have any tools?A screwdriver, maybe?”
The boy’s face lit up with inspiration.“My grandpa’s toolbox is around here somewhere.He died a long time ago.”
“Then he won’t mind if I use his tools.”
“Nope,” he said.“My dad’s dead too.”
A spear of sadness pierced Jason’s heart.“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I don’t remember him that good.”
Jason regretted the deception he’d started last night.He also felt guilty about coming on to Natalie.She was a beautiful woman, and he was strongly attracted to her, but he shouldn’t have acted on it.Maybe the two beers had loosened his inhibitions.He’d never been much of a drinker, even before the head injury.Since then, he’d avoided alcohol altogether.
“Mom says I’m the man of the house now,” Marcus said.
“That’s a pretty big deal.”
“Do you have a dad?”
“I do.”
“What’s his name?”
“Jeff.”
Seeming pleased with the exchange, Marcus wandered off.Jason doubted he’d bring back a toolbox.He sipped his coffee and contemplated the neighborhood.The trees were leafy and green.Last night’s rain had washed the streets clean.It was a pleasant sixty degrees in late fall.He wondered if winter ever brought frost or snow here.
After a few minutes, he rose from the glider and examined the screen door.The hinges were rusty, but the frame looked solid.Marcus opened the front door, surprising him.He had a red toolbox and a gap-toothed grin.
“Found it,” he said, triumphant.
Jason rifled through the old metal box, which had everything he needed to do the repair.“Nice.”
“Can I help?”
Jason wasn’t sure about this.He gave the kid a quick inspection.“You don’t look ready to work, bud.”
“Why not?”
“You’re barefoot, in pajamas.”
“I have shoes.”
“Put them on.”
He sat down in the doorway and donned a pair of tennis shoes with Velcro straps.Then he emerged on the porch, his expression eager.Jason cleaned and oiled the hinges while the kid hovered close to him, huffing egg-biscuit breath.
“What can I do?”Marcus asked.
“Find me a Phillips head screwdriver.”
