Chapter Nineteen #3
dose afterward to knock down the pain. Since she broke her leg she’s had two moods: inappropriate and cantankerous. You can
guess which one she’s in now.”
Olivia was giggling on the couch, and she called, “Gran, behave!”
“I am behaving! What I want to do is throw something because I’m stuck in this damn bedroom by myself. Olivia, you didn’t
hear that.”
“Yes I did.”
“And . . . the mood just flipped to cantankerous.” Sela gave him a small smile. “You may want to run.”
He’d faced worse things than a pill-fueled granny . . . maybe.
“You have to stay for supper,” said Barb, turning to smile at him. “It isn’t anything fancy, just beef stew and corn bread,
but there’s plenty of it.”
His first reaction was to refuse; habit was habit. His second reaction was to remember the woman standing right there beside
him, and he said, “Thanks, I’d like that.” Then he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the can he’d put there. “I
brought this. Figured you could use some bacon.”
Sela went still, staring at the can in his hand. Barb wheeled away from the fire, the forgotten spoon in her hand dripping
liquid on the floor. Olivia bolted off the couch. “Bacon,” she said in a reverent tone as she came to stand beside him, then
in astonishment added, “Bacon in a can?”
“Yeah. It’s all I use.” He held out the can of Yoder’s to Sela and she took it as carefully as if it was made of the finest
crystal.
“Well, my goodness. I’ve never seen bacon in a can before.” Barb came over and peered at it. “How do you cook it?”
“It’s already cooked, but you can crisp it up the normal way.”
“What’s going on out there?” Carol hollered.
“He brought bacon!” Barb yelled back.
“Bacon! Damn it! I’m stuck in here and y’all are out there with bacon—”
Ben sighed. Obviously the only way to settle down the granny was with bold action. He wanted to spend time with Sela and he
couldn’t with her aunt constantly yelling from the next room. “Is she decent?” he asked Sela.
“She has clothes on, if that’s what you’re asking. I wouldn’t go any further than that.” A tiny smile twitched at the corners
of her mouth.
In battle Ben had learned that action, even if it was the wrong action, was better than inaction. Silently he strode in the
direction of the uproar, which broke off as soon as he walked through the bedroom door. The woman in the bed gaped at him,
her eyes and mouth wide. Yeah, he recognized her, knew the improbable—now fading—pink streak in her hair. She was covered
with a sheet and a blanket, her splinted leg propped on a couple of pillows. Silently he went to the side of the bed, bent,
and scooped her up, covers and all. Carrying her out, he asked, “Where do I put her?”
“Right here,” Sela said swiftly, pulling out a chair at the table and turning it to the side, then pulling out another one
on which her aunt’s broken leg could be propped. “If she’s going to be in here, she might as well eat at the table with us.”
Ben deposited the woman in the chair and carefully supported the broken leg until Sela had the other chair and some cushions
arranged. “Is that comfortable?” she asked her aunt, leaning forward to straighten and tuck the covers around her. Ben watched
her long dark hair slide over her shoulder, and thought about it sliding over his pillow. Instantly he pulled himself away
from that topic, otherwise he’d be standing there with an obvious erection.
“I guess,” the woman said, still staring at Ben. She held out her hand. “I’m Carol Allen.”
“Glad to meet you.” He took her hand. “I’m Stud Muffin Hardbody.”
She didn’t blink. Instead she said, “Oh honey, if you only knew the other names I’ve called you.”
“You don’t want to know,” Sela said to him.
He took her word for it. He looked around, feeling a little awkward, but she indicated another chair at the table and he settled
into it. In short order an iron skillet of corn bread was set on a pot holder on the table, and cut into squares. Following
that was a big pot of beef stew. While Barb was getting that on the table, Sela and Olivia were doing a sort of dance around
the table that resulted in bowls and spoons and napkins being put in place in front of five of the six chairs. Glasses of
water were distributed.
It was a simple meal; Carol said a very brief grace over the food, then the bread and stew were passed around so people could
get as much as they wanted. Sela had seated herself beside him, and he noticed that she took the smallest portion of any of
them, and made a guess that she was doing without to make sure the others had enough to eat.
That couldn’t continue. He’d make sure she had enough to eat.
He didn’t remember the last time he’d had conversation with a meal—likely when he was still in the military. But then, this
was the first meal he’d eaten with anyone else since he’d mustered out. When Sela asked, “Did everything go okay with the
gas today?” it took a moment for him to realize she was talking to him.
“Okay enough.” Some people had gotten testy about being limited to five gallons until everyone who had been in line had gotten
a share, until he’d told the complainers he didn’t mind if they went on home so there’d be more for the others. He’d given
the same reply to the ones who had complained about a record being made of how much they got, and that they’d have to reimburse
the store once the power came back on and they got back to work. He was big enough that not many people came back at him,
plus he’d spent the day with the Mossberg strapped to his back. There was just something about a shotgun.
An added bonus was that the shotgun scabbard had rubbed against the cut on his shoulder, making him more visibly irritable.
Sometimes things worked out for the best.
Sela was looking at him as if she expected more in the way of information. “Let’s go get naked” didn’t seem like something she’d want to talk about in front of her relatives and friend, so he settled for a safer subject.
“Jim and Mary Alice loved the dog. Mary Alice hadn’t been able to go back into the house, but with the dog there she felt
better. She named him Sajack.”
“After Pat Sajack,” Barb said, smiling. “She does love her Wheel of Fortune.”
Ben had never seen the show, but he’d take their word for it.
Olivia gave him a perturbed look. “I can’t believe you gave the dog away.”
“Yeah.” Again, expectant looks that asked for more. “They can give him more attention than I can, and they need a dog there
to look after them. I’ll do some extra hunting to keep them all fed.” He glanced at Sela. “Any progress on those braziers?
I loaned them one of my kerosene heaters, but that’s a temporary fix because they’ll run out of kerosene.”
“There is.” This time it was Carol who answered. She shifted her leg uncomfortably, but focused on the subject. “Mona Clausen
walked over to talk about it, while you were asleep. She does still have the kiln. It’s not a big one, and it’s electric so
she’d need a generator and fuel to fire it up. She said the design of a brazier was simple, it’s basically a grill pan, but
she could do one medium-size at a time, or two smaller ones at once. How many do you think we’ll need?”
“I have no idea,” Sela said. “Plus people will need charcoal for them.”
“Charcoal can be made, just burn the wood down to that point,” Ben pointed out. “I’ll set up the generator so she can get
started. Even one brazier will mean a lot to people who don’t have any heat or any way of cooking.”
God. He’d talked to more people today than he had in the past three years, total. He could feel the discomfort gnawing at
him, the need to withdraw to the top of the mountain where there was nothing but trees and earth, wind and sky. That was no