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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.”
“It’s an M-four,” Leo said.
“An M-four?” Seamus said, nodding. “Is it not an M-sixteen?”
