“We’re the Warners,” Juliana said immediately.
Brian sighed. Warner was the name they were supposed to use when coming into contact with strangers. Juliana’s just so responsible, isn’t she? he thought. She should really get a medal or something.
“How many of you Warners are there, anyway?” McMurphy asked. “You guys seem to keep popping out of the trees like squirrels.”
Brian and Juliana exchanged a glance.
“Just the four of us,” she said.
“Staying out at Mr. Cody’s place, is that right?” the hippie wanted to know.
How’d he know that? Brian thought.
“I’m sorry, Mr. McMurphy, but my brothers need to get going. My, um, dad needs their help.”
“Your dad? Wait, I think I’ve met you before. You came to church with that nice old Irish priest, right?”
“No,” Juliana said. “You must be mistaken.”
“Mysteries and wonders,” McMurphy said, nodding. “Now, now. Listen to me jawing, chewing your ear off, prying into your business. Just ain’t right neighborly, is it? I apologize. It’s just nice to meet folks this far out in the yonder. I live by myself, and when I finally meet someone, all that bottled-up talk just shoots out of me like soda from a shaken can.”
“Uh, OK, Mr. McMurphy. Nice to meet you,” Juliana said, eyeing Brian, letting him know it was time to get moving.
“Pleasure was all mine, miss. All mine. Hey, wait. Before you go, let me give you a little something.”
He fished something out of the creel in his kayak. It was something green in a large ziplock bag. He offered it to Brian.
“Son, that right there is straight primo hybrid sinsemilla. You will not find its equal in all of North America. I grow it myself with love. Ask anyone in the valley, and they’ll tell you McMurphy’s is a cut above all others. Top shelf, drawer, and notch, as my daddy used to say.”
Brian stared at him, stared at the bag, stared at Juliana.
“C’mon, it won’t bite. Hell, I was a kid. You’ll go crazy out here without having yourselves a little fun. Plus, it’s a gift. You don’t want to offend me none, right?”
“We can’t, Mr. McMurphy,” Juliana said, making up an excuse on the spot. “We’re Mormon. We can’t even drink soda. The use of marijuana would be completely against, um, our way.”
“Mormons, huh?” McMurphy said, squinting up at her.
Juliana nodded.
“Well, isn’t that nice,” McMurphy said, putting the weed back into his creel. “I’ll let you get back to your dad. Respecting your elders is always a good policy. Says that right in the Bible. So long, now.”
CHAPTER 70
Mary Catherine had sweat on her brow and tears in her eyes as she rabidly zested another lemon in the scorching kitchen. Leo was coming over for dinner tonight, on his day off, and she’d learned that he liked lemons.
And what Leo wants, Mary Catherine thought, grinning to herself as she zestfully zested, Leo gets.
She already had three chickens in the oven, and a five-pound bag of potatoes boiling in a cauldron-sized pot on the stove. There were still the green beans and the salad to take care of, stuffing to make along with the gravy, but she wanted to get the lemon cake going or she’d be in the weeds.
Besides the lemons, pretty much everything was from Mr. Cody’s farm, even-Sorry, Chrissy-the chickens. They were probably flouting some FDA regulation to have the criminal gall to eat what they grew, but she had the feeling Deputy Marshal Leo would look the other way after he had a few bites.
Farm food this fresh just tasted different, Mary Catherine knew from happy experience. Eating it for the first time was like seeing high-definition TV after a lifetime of black-and-white. It was going to be nice having someone new at the dinner table after all this time.
The back screen door slammed, and Brian, Eddie, and Ricky stood in the mudroom, each one more sunburned and filthy and exhausted than the next.
She bit her lower lip to keep from bursting into laughter.
“Would you look at the state of ya! Were you wandering the earth or tunneling through it?”
“Ow,” Ricky said, taking off a dusty sneaker. “Ow.”
“Smells good. What’s for dinner?” Brian asked, his filthy finger creeping toward the mixing bowl.
He howled as Mary Catherine whacked his hand loudly with the zester. Eddie and Ricky snickered.
“Get your butts upstairs and shower this instant or I’ll drag you out into the yard and hose you down. See if I won’t, and don’t think you’re off the hook for going off by yourselves and skipping your lessons, getting us worried. As if I’m not busy enough.”
“Why are you so busy?” Eddie said.
“I told you yesterday. We’re having a guest tonight for dinner.”
“A guest?” Ricky said. “Who?”
“Deputy Marshal Leo,” Mary Catherine said.
“Deputy Marshal Leo?” Brian said. “How is he a guest? He works here.”
“Mary Catherine, does Dad know about this?” Eddie said, raising his brow.
Mary Catherine stopped zesting. That was it. She knew the boys were having a hard time of late, especially Brian, but that was it. Like she hadn’t been working her fingers to the bone for this lot. Was she not allowed to have something nice in her life? Something even a little bit hopeful?
Standing there in the kitchen, she remembered something from when she was a girl. One of her brothers would get cheeky, and her father, after coming in from haying all day or putting up fencing or some other extreme, fourteen-hour task of backbreaking cattle-farm manual labor, would let his fork fall from his callused fist with a clank. With the slow deliberation of a tank cannon acquiring a target, his weather-beaten face would slowly rise from his meal and shift until it was leveled at the offender.
He never said anything. He never had to. A judge about to deliver a death sentence couldn’t approach the solemn, cold, carved-granite malevolence of his silence. There in his gray-blue gaze lay a guaranteed offer. With one more measly word, you would find yourself in the sudden possession of the entire universe of everything you didn’t want.
Standing there in the sweltering kitchen, Mary Catherine suddenly gave that same look to the boys.
The boys glanced at each other, and slowly, one by one, silently, left the room.
Mary Catherine smiled to herself after they’d left. She’d always been her father’s daughter.
CHAPTER 71
The food had come out perfectly, even if Mary Catherine said so herself. The chicken wasn’t dry, and the mashed potatoes and stuffing were seasoned to her exacting standards. Leo certainly seemed to enjoy it, from the way he cleaned his plate and reloaded. He especially seemed to enjoy the homemade pepper gravy, she noticed with delight.
It was the kids who were doing their level best to make the meal as unpleasant as possible. They ate with their heads down, slowly and all but silently, except for the harsh, scraping clicks of silverware off plates. Even Eddie and Ricky, who could eat their weight these days, were holding back, acting like they were at a funeral.
“Don’t let these people fool you, Leo,” Seamus suddenly called out in the dead silence. “This fine bunch of formal young lads and lasses is usually quite lively come mealtime. You’re having quite an effect on them.”
“A positive one, I hope, Father Seamus,” Leo said with a polite grin.
“Aye, without a doubt,” Seamus said, chewing as he looked around the table. “Now tell me, Leo. I couldn’t help but notice, that’s quite some firepower you bring with you every evening. What kind of rifle is it?”
“Now, Seamus,” Mary Catherine said, “is that polite dinner conversation?”
“Perhaps not,” Seamus said with a shrug. “But I figure, even somewhat impolite dinner conversation is a tad better than none at all.”