Page 23 of Cowboy's Last Stand
“Smells good,” Jason said from the glider.
“Come on in.It’s ready.”
His brows rose in surprise, as if he’d expected to stay outside.Maybe he preferred that, but he didn’t argue.She removed her apron as he entered through the front door.She felt self-conscious, almost breathless in his presence.The fact that he’d known Mike should have been a deterrent, a tragic reminder of lost love.For some reason, it wasn’t.He was taller than Mike had been, with a rangier frame.The entryway seemed to shrink around them.
“Do you mind if I wash up?”he asked.
“Go ahead.”
Marcus showed him to the bathroom while Natalie brought the food and drinks to the table.She gave Marcus a scoop of mashed potatoes, along with peas and fried chicken.When Jason returned, he took the chair next to Marcus.She sat down and gestured for Jason to serve himself.He doled out generous portions of everything.As soon as she lifted her fork, he proceeded to eat with a swiftness she found endearing.He cleaned his plate in record time.
“Have some more,” she said gently.“There’s plenty.”
He shook his head with chagrin, aware that he’d wolfed down his food.“I’m sorry.I’ve been out in the wild too long.”
“In Montaina?”Marcus asked.
Jason smiled at his mispronunciation.“Among other places.”
Natalie was more flattered than offended.He probably hadn’t enjoyed a home-cooked meal in months.He went ahead with a second helping, and she told Marcus to eat his peas.Her son smashed them underneath his fork instead.
From the kitchen, a reminder beeped.She rose from her seat to take the pie out of the oven.Marcus launched into a discussion of his favorite desserts.He liked cake better than pie and ice cream better than cake.Natalie couldn’t hear Jason’s response, only the deep timbre of his voice.He was a man of few words, quietly spoken.Mike had been the opposite.He’d been like Marcus: gregarious, sometimes garrulous.He’d written her beautiful letters during his deployment.They’d started off as hastily scrawled notes because Mike had preferred talking on the phone to writing.After she’d requested longer letters, he’d delivered with a passion and eloquence that had surprised her.She’d kept all of these letters in a box in her closet.They were her most cherished possessions.
She turned off the oven and grabbed her mitt.As she removed the pie, there was a squeal of brakes in the street outside, followed by a smash in her front yard and a cacophony of loud popping sounds.
Gunfire.
Chapter Six
Jason leaped tohis feet so fast his chair clattered to the floor behind him.
He knew what had caused the commotion before he reached the kitchen.He could recognize almost every type of firearm and explosive by sound.Even though the threat was minimal, instinct had him rushing to Natalie’s aid.Marcus followed close behind him.She was crouched down by the oven like she was dodging bullets.Jason glanced through the front window, but the perpetrator was already gone.
“It was firecrackers,” Jason said.
Natalie sank to a seated position on the floor, still holding the pie.She took a few deep breaths to collect herself.“Firecrackers?You’re sure?”
“M-16s.I’m sure.”
“Are you OK, Mama?”Marcus asked.
She gave him a wobbly smile.“I’m fine.”
Jason closed the oven door.He noted that the pie looked and smelled delicious.“You want me to take that off your hands?”
She shook her head.
“I’ll go check it out.”
“Wait,” she said, putting the pie on the table.She rose from the ground and moved past him to turn on the porchlight.Then she nodded her permission.She placed her hands on Marcus’s shoulders to prevent him from following Jason into the front yard.They watched from the safety of the kitchen as he secured the scene.
There wasn’t much to do.All of the munitions were spent and now harmless.The only damage was to her mailbox.It had been separated from the post by brute force and lay smashed on the curb.Someone had done a drive-by mailbox bashing and tossed a few firecrackers on the lawn for emphasis.
Jason assumed Billy was the culprit.The damage was minor.As intimidation tactics went, it was petty and immature—but effective.He pictured Natalie’s face, frozen with fear, and curled his hands into fists.He wouldn’t mind mixing it up with Billy again.Jason still had the brass knuckles in his backpack.
He returned to the porch.She stood in the doorway with Marcus.“Did you see the vehicle?”he asked.
“No.”
