#25
Mark left the wagons, intending to check on everyone since he was in town. The reception was down right frosty, from the people he roused from sleep, to answer their doors. All but at the clinic.
"Welcome Mark, come on in and have a cup of coffee with Bruce. We have figured out a way to use a surgical tube as a straw, so grouchy can have his coffee." Trish was smiling but there was an under current of steel in her voice.
Mark walked in, to sit in the room with Bruce. Soon, the wounded guard brought his cup in to sit and have a chat. "I'm Donovan, Don for short, pleased to meet you Mr. Linderman. Bruce here has been telling me some of your amazing exploits."
Bruce got a black look from the Mr. Linderman he was referring too. "Don't believe a word of it, Bruce is known for lying through his teeth, and telling tall tales with a vivid imagination." Mark flatly tried to collapse Bruce's mouth with a hidden reprimand, and it didn't work.
Trish was around with the coffee pot; the blessing of having someone entertain Bruce so she could get Eddie and Tony breakfast and get their lunches made. Both boys were working at the sawmill with Milo, and now Chuck was there, as he declined to go back with Corbin.
The men sat and talked, Don not at all sad that the wagons were leaving without him. "I'm tired of being shot at on a regular basis, as It's really risky, moving such great loads of supplies. We had the most trouble right as we left St. Louis. Too many eyes watching as we gathered up, and there are always some jerks that want to get supplies the easy way. I wanted to give you a word of caution; the old boy we brought the supplies for, he's kinda a ripe plum for a raid. Here too," Don looked at Bruce. "Some hop head looking for pain killers and such. Even though you are in bed, it wouldn't hurt if you had a rifle. I've got mine, but right now it's in the other room. I see sir, that you have a pistol on your hip," Don addressed Mark, nodding approvingly at the holster.
"Always," Mark smoothly replied; "I'd feel plumb naked without it. We all carry pistols and have long guns handy. Thanks for the tip about the store, I'll be sure to mention it to George. Bruce, you have heard, so it's up to you to formulate a security plan and get it implemented."
Mark could have given Bruce all the help required, but he wanted Bruce to have something to do. Rightly guessing that Trish was probably having seconds thoughts about saving Bruce; Mark chuckled to himself.
"I can read your mind, you know." Bruce said waspishly. "Trish has made no bones about me being a rotten patient, and I am. It's been hard to gain strength, and it seems like it's taking forever."
Now both Mark and Don chuckled out loud. "You'll get there," Mark soothed the cranky doctor, " you didn't eat for a month, so it takes time to get all your systems up and functioning properly."
"I know that," Bruce said through tight lips, "I am a doctor after all."
"Uh, that's the sign for me to leave," Mark stood up and removed himself rapidly from the room. "Thanks for the coffee," he called to Trish, "I'll be around again to prod the good doctor, he needs my special kind of attention."
"Thanks a lot," Trish called from the kitchen, "just what I need to start the day."
Mark laughed out loud, and closed the door behind him. The dawn was still trying to happen, the morning cloudy and overcast with dark clouds. Walking home, Mark listened to his belly protest the fact that he should be home eating breakfast. He stepped a little faster, that Donny was a real chow hound when he got started, and the kid just might talk Clora into feeding him early.
Donny had indeed eaten, and was standing at the counter making a couple of sandwiches for his lunch. Clora was sitting down with a stack of pancakes on the plate in front of her.
"Sit, sit," Mark ordered. "I'm still capable of washing my hands and pouring a cup of coffee. What are you off to do today?" he asked Donny.
"Logging, we're trying to work early so it's not so stinking hot. I see it's cloudy out, I wonder if we need to be on alert for severe weather?"
"Possibly, I'll keep check and ring the bell if anything happens."
"That's fair enough. Do we have a bugle around here?" Donny asked as an after thought. "See ya tonight for supper." Donny grabbed his sandwiches and canteen and lit out for the barn.
Mark sat down at the table, said the blessing and the two of them sat and ate breakfast in companionable silence. "I've needed this for 40 years," he finally said dramatically. "I didn't think I would ever get to eat a meal with just you. I think back to Milo and Teddy there at the farm in Oregon, and those two little buggers were just everywhere."
"Oh, it wasn't that bad," Clora protested.
"Oh yes it was," Mark underscored his feelings, giving his beautiful wife a Groucho Marx wiggle of his eyebrows.
That always made Clora laugh and she reached out to hold Mark's hand. "This is such a wonderful place," she enthused warmly. "It has everything we need, just like it was tailored made for us. What are your impressions, do you like it here and are you content?"
Mark pushed back from the table and stretched his legs out. Cradling his coffee cup, he looked around and nodded. "Yes," he finally said, "I am."
Clora got up to pour more coffee, and when she had finished, Mark pulled her down to sit on his lap. "I've waited 40 years to do this," he said as dramatically as before.
"Oh, it hasn't been that long," Clora protested again, but only half heartedly. She couldn't remember the last time they had been alone to enjoy one another. By the look on his face, Mark wasn't remembering either, and Clora laughed gently.
"There is one thing you could do this morning," Clora purred against his ear, waiting for Mark to take the hint and ask "what?."
"You could check out the root/tornado shelter. I can't get the door open, so it's not much good if we need it in a hurry."
"There is a cost," Mark rumbled back, "at least three kisses as a down payment."
"How about I give you four, that way I have paid in advance," Clora teased.
Breakfast time was just getting interesting when a deep voice called from outside, "Ma, Dad, are you home?"
"Damn that Milo," Mark said with feeling.