Keeping
Up With the Joneses
Part One
Chapter One
July, five years before The Secret of the Mansion
It was a hot summer day in Albany, New York. Jacobson Jones wiped
his sweaty brow with his arm. He hated working on days like these. He had
inherited the truck farm from his father years ago. Not that the old man thought I’d make anything of it, Jacobson thought
bitterly. He knew if his older brother had made it home from the war he would
have inherited the farm instead. If
Junior hadn’t kicked the bucket, Pop woulda left me
zip, Jacobson thought scornfully. And
no doubt Junior woulda made twice
as much money as me.
All his life, Jacobson had lived in his brother’s shadow. John
had been his father’s pride and joy. John
was an all-American athlete. John made good grades in school without
even trying. John got all the girls. No matter how hard he tried, Jacobson
could not live up to his father’s namesake.
Years ago Peggy Jones, Jacobson’s mother, had left her husband and
two sons. None of them knew where she had gone, nor did they care to find
out. According to John Jones, Sr., she
was a good-for-nothing old whore. John
Sr. doubted he was even Jacobson’s father.
He had no love for the younger boy, only contempt for having to care for
another man’s child.
“Yer just too sorry to be my boy,” John
Sr. would sneer. “I don’t know why I
have to feed somebody else’s mistake!”
Jacobson vowed to himself to never be responsible for another man’s
child.
With his wife gone, John Sr. was free to spend all his time in the
bar and not have to worry about the incessant nagging when he got home. His best friend was a fella
named Jack Daniels, and they visited every night. Without fail, John would come home staggering drunk each evening. “Why don’t you just
leave, Jonesy! You go find yer real daddy and see if he owns up to such a sorry
mistake!” Eventually he’d work himself into a drunken rage and followed the
insults with slaps.
The nickname of Jonesy stuck. Every time Jacobson heard his father
say it in that sarcastic tone, he knew it meant Jacobson wasn’t a
Jones. It was John’s way of calling him
a bastard.
After college, John Jr. went into the army. When the Joneses
received word that he had been killed in a helicopter accident, it almost
destroyed John Sr. He couldn’t accept
that the apple of his eye had been taken away. One night after a particularly
long visit with Jack Daniels, he stumbled in the room and slapped Jonesy. “Why
couldn’t it have been you, you sorry piece of....” Finally Jonesy could take it no more. For the
first time in his life he stood up for himself and returned the punch. Jonesy may have been smaller than John Sr.,
but he was wiry and strong. It felt good
to finally pay the old man back. For the first time in his life, Jonesy felt power. That feeling didn’t last long, however.
Jonesy landed a few good punches, but they only seemed to empower and enrage
his father more. Jonesy was no match for
the older man, who had spent years and years laboring on the truck farm. The
old man beat him until Jonesy was groggy. Then he dragged Jonesy to his bed,
tied him up, and beat him until he was unconscious.
Jonesy did not mourn for his brother. Truthfully, he felt a bit of
satisfaction knowing that he no longer was forced to live in another’s shadow.
In fact, it was difficult not to be downright gleeful at the funeral. Part of him wanted to laugh. The crown prince
was gone! Now the scroungy old beggar could get a few
crumbs. Instead of celebrating at the funeral, he dutifully followed his father
and comfortingly put his arm around the old man’s shoulders. He managed to look
sorrowful during the eulogy, all the while choking back the bile that came in
his throat when he heard all the wonderful things said about his brother. He somberly helped carry the coffin to the
gravesite. He embraced a sobbing John Sr. as the coffin was lowered into the
ground. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. When all the others left the gravesite to
return home, only Jonesy remained. “Good riddance, Junior!” he sneered
as he spat on the grave.
Jonesy continued to endure his father’s drunken wrath. He endured
the beatings, the insults, the constant ramblings of how perfect John Jr. had
been. He endured his father’s constant wishing that Jonesy had been killed
instead of the crown prince. He endured
it all for one reason. He knew eventually John Sr. would die. And when he did,
Jonesy would be left to inherit his father’s possessions.
There was talk that his brother had a daughter out of wedlock, and
Jonesy didn’t want to chance losing his inheritance to that little brat. He
could take no chances in angering his father so much that he might seek out
Jonesy’s niece and change his will. Jonesy was forced to bide his time and
continually endure his father’s abuse. Bit by bit, his soul was being eaten
away. Little by little, he was consumed by bitterness. Years and years of
inferiority began destroying any goodness within.
But finally, it was over. His father died, and indeed Jacobson
Jones was sole heir of his father’s goods. He worked constantly on the truck
farm, determined to make it more prosperous than it had been when his father owned
it. The labor was difficult and the pay was minimal. Jonesy had trouble keeping employees for he
earned the reputation of being a tight, iron-fisted slave driver. The secret of
Jonesy’s success had been to hire young, inexperienced men who were desperate
for any kind of work. They may not stay long, but he’d work them to death while
they were there. Eventually he doubled
the number of trucks and opened a greenhouse to provide produce during the
winter months.
Visitors were a rarity on the farm. Jonesy didn’t have many
friends, and those he did have weren’t the type to
make a social call on a Monday afternoon. He never invited his lady friends to
his house or let them know where he lived. He couldn’t take the chance of being
tracked down if he had the misfortune of siring some brat. He hated kids.
So needless to say, Jonesy was surprised when an old truck pulled
into the driveway. He peered in the truck and saw a woman. “What kinda trouble am I in?” he muttered under his breath. He watched as a petite form hopped out of the
driver’s side. She had hair the color of sand on a warm summer’s day. Her eyes
were large and the color of a robin’s egg.
She was the most beautiful woman that Jonesy had ever seen.
The woman was obviously out of her element, and she nervously
smoothed her skirt as she approached Jonesy. “By any chance are you the owner
of this truck farm?” Even her voice was pretty, Jonesy thought.
He nodded, wiped his sweaty hands on his overalls, and shook her
hand. “Yes, ma’am. The name’s Jacobson Jones, but
everyone calls me Jonesy.”
“I’m Katje Frayne. I have some farm equipment that I need to sell.
You once bought a piece of machinery from one of my neighbors. He told me you
might be interested in what I have.”
Jonesy carefully looked Katje up and down. “Exactly what kind of
equipment are you talking about? And why
do you want to sell it?” There was no way he was going to get ripped off by
some woman, no matter how pretty she was.
Katje sighed. Her beautiful eyes watered, and she seemed to take a
moment to compose herself. Jonesy couldn’t help but feel bad for this pretty
lady. No matter how bad John Sr. had been to him, he never had struck Peggy. No
matter how much she had deserved it. John Jones always told his boys to treat
women proper. “I’m sorry, Miss Frayne. Didn’t mean to upset
you. Sometimes I can sound a bit gruffer than I mean to.”
“My name is Mrs. Frayne,” Katje corrected. “And you didn’t
upset me. My husband died a few months ago, and sometimes I get a bit weepy over
the smallest things.” She pulled a tissue from her purse and began to hastily
wipe her tears. “I have a large plow that is in excellent condition. Every year
my husband and I raised a big garden. We got the plow a couple of years ago as
an anniversary gift from my husband’s Uncle James. Win, that was my husband,
kept it in perfect condition. Since he passed away, there’s no way for me to
keep up the mortgage by myself. I have a job as a waitress, but it’s not
enough. I have to move next month, and I won’t need farming equipment at the
apartment. I thought if I could sell some of the things I won’t need in the
apartment, it might pay a few bills. I’m so behind.” She pulled another tissue
from her purse and tried to keep up with the flow of tears. “I’m sorry for
wasting your time,” she said as she started walking away.
“Hold on!” Jonesy gently grabbed her arm. “Just because I wanted
some details doesn’t mean I’m not interested in the plow. In fact, I was
telling my foreman the other day that we needed to look into getting another
one. We’ve been growing more crops and need some more equipment to keep up with
it all. I’d be mighty interested in seeing what you got.”
“That’s wonderful!” Katje exclaimed. “I live in
Jonesy rubbed the stubble on his chin in a thoughtful manner.
“Actually, I need to be in that area on Thursday. Would it be all right to stop
in that afternoon and take a look?”
“That would be fine. I know I can switch with one of the other
waitresses, so I can be there.” She dug a piece of paper out of her purse and
hurriedly scribbled down her address and phone number. “Thank you so much, Mr.
Jones.”
Jonesy snickered. “Mr. Jones was my dad. Call me Jonesy.”
“All right, Jonesy,” Katje answered, hesitantly. “You can call me
Katie. The English rendition of my name may be easier to remember than the
Dutch form.”
Jonesy knew he would have no trouble at all remembering Katie
Frayne.
Chapter Two
The
next couple of days passed slowly. Jonesy thought about Katie Frayne constantly
and that disturbed him. He had never let himself care about another human being
before. His father’s abuse and his mother’s abandonment caused Jonesy to build
a wall around his soul. This wall was so great, so thick, that nobody had ever
been able to climb it. Now, this pretty young widow found a tiny crevice
inside. Not that she was trying. He
wasn’t handsome like his brother had been. True, he had a dark quality that
appealed to some women. He could have his pick of any of the women he knew from
the bar where he hung out. They’re all right for a one night stand, but
there’s no way I’m getting’ chained to one of them broads, Jonesy thought. If I ever get married... A picture of Katie in a
white dress popped into his head.
It
wasn’t just the fact that Katie was beautiful.
There was just something about her that had gotten under his skin. She
had a presence of goodness about her that made him believe that maybe the world
wasn’t entirely evil, as he’d grown up believing. He knew she wasn’t like most
of the floozies he knew from the bar. She seemed innocent and sweet, and she
wasn’t one to flaunt her good looks. In fact, she seemed like the type that
didn’t even know how pretty she was. Most of the women Jonesy knew would try
and use their feminine wiles on him if they were trying to sell him something.
Katie wasn’t the type to do that. She could be playing up the widow bit,
but Jonesy didn’t think so. She seemed genuinely grief stricken. He remembered
how blue her eyes got as they filled with tears...
Jonesy’s
feelings disturbed him so greatly that he called Katie to cancel. These
strange, new emotions started to frighten him. He shut himself off for so long
that he couldn’t imagine letting someone get close to him. However, when Katie
answered the phone in her musical voice, Jonesy merely confirmed she would be
able to get off work and said he’d see her Thursday.
The
days passed slowly, but finally it was Thursday. Jonesy arrived at the Frayne residence at
Jonesy
looked around and saw the hood up on the old truck and a small form looking
inside. “Katie, is that you?” he called.
Suddenly, a blonde head appeared from the side of the hood. Katie waved at him and made her way over.
“Hello!
Glad that you found the place!”
Jonesy
grinned at Katie and motioned to a spot of grease on her cheek. Katie laughed
as she rubbed it off. “For a woman, you give good directions,” Jonesy teased.
“Don’t tell me you work on engines too?”
Katie
smiled and shook her head. “On the way home from the diner last night, the
truck started making an awful noise. I was hoping it would be something so
obvious that even I would know what was wrong when I looked under the hood.
Unfortunately, I can’t make heads or tails of what an engine should look like.”
She sighed deeply. “Well, there goes any money I make if you decide to buy the
plow. But at least I wouldn’t have to
worry about how the mechanic will get paid.”
She
gave a wave of dismissal and mustered another smile. “Come on and I’ll show you
the plow. It’s over here in this barn.”
She led Jonesy to the large barn that housed the horse.
Jonesy
watched the petite lady as she walked to the building. He was overcome with a
deep wave of sympathy for her, which was so unlike him. He took a deep breath,
and then dove into uncharted waters… Being kind. “Well,
Katie, I’m pretty handy under a vehicle. I may be able to take a look under the
hood and see if I can fix it.”
“Oh,
I couldn’t let you do that. I feel bad enough having you drive all this way,”
Katie stammered.
“It’s
not a problem at all. I’d be happy to.” Jonesy looked the plow over and
whistled. “This is in excellent shape. It’s a nice piece of equipment.”
Katie
lovingly ran her hand over the machinery. “Win believed in taking care of what
you have. He wasn’t particularly fond of
tinkering with machinery, but he always made sure somebody kept this repaired
and oiled.” Katie’s eyes twinkled and she softly laughed. “Win was about as
handy as I am with machinery. He was more of a nature lover. He always said he
felt more comfortable with the four-legged type of horsepower than the kind you
find under the hood of an automobile.”
Her voice began to shake a bit and she visibly composed herself. “So,
Jonesy, what would be a fair price? I must admit to being a bit ignorant about
such things.
Jonesy
stared up at the barn’s ceiling and scratched his chin. He could easily cheat
Katie and pay much less than what the plow was worth, which was normally how he
conducted his business. Most everything
he owned he had gained in an underhanded manner. However, he could not bring himself to cheat
this pretty blonde widow. And it wasn’t just the fact that Katie was good-looking.
There was something else. For the first time in his life, Jonesy felt compassion
for another human being. In the end, he
actually gave Katie much more than the plow was worth.
“Well,
now that we have that settled, how about I take a look under the hood of yer truck out there?” Jonesy asked. “Do you have some tools
handy? If it’s something minor, I might be able to fix it with an adjustment.”
“Win’s
tools are in the garage. I’m not sure what you’ll find, but there may be
something you can use in there. If you don’t mind, I’m going to the house for a
minute to start dinner.” Katie started toward the house, and then shyly turned
back to Jonesy. “If you don’t have plans, maybe you can stay for supper. It’s
the least I can do to thank you for buying the plow and fixing the truck.”
Jonesy
chuckled. “Don’t thank me yet! I’ll see what I can do. But it would be nice to stay for dinner. Thank
you very much for the invitation.” He
whistled a merry tune as he headed for the garage. He wasn’t expecting a dinner
invitation. Could someone as wonderful as that actually be interested in me?
He quickly dismissed the thought from his mind and opened the side door of
the garage.
Jonesy
found the light and peered around the large building. He saw a bookshelf on one
wall that contained books on animals and plants, some of which looked old and
rather worn. There were little jars filled with different plants and looked
like samples one might find in a biology lab.
In
the other corner, there was a table used for woodworking. Several carpentry
tools were placed neatly on pegs. A shelf lay unfinished on the table. Jonesy
picked it up and studied it carefully. He rubbed the fine grain of the wood and
noticed the intricate carvings. Someone put a lot of time in this, he
thought as he placed it back on the table.
He picked up a small tool used for carving and wondered at the talent of
the person who had crafted the shelf.
“What
are you doing in here? Put that down!”
Jonesy jumped at the angry voice. He looked up in surprise to see a
young boy standing before him.
Apparently the kid had just returned from fishing, since he was holding
a rod and tackle box in one hand and a line of fish in the other. The boy had
thick red hair, and his eyes were bright green and filled with fire. A
smattering of freckles dotted his nose, and his jaw was set in an angry
expression. For a kid, he seems pretty fierce, Jonesy thought in
amusement.
“Hey,
don’t get yer panties in a wad, kid. Katie sent me in
here to get some tools so I can take a look at her truck.” Jonesy noticed the
boy’s eyes grow even greener and took immense pleasure in the fact he had made
the boy mad. “What’s it to you, anyway?”
The
young man scowled. “Those look like woodworking tools to me. You’d have a hard
time fixing a truck with them.”
“Ain’t you ever heard that kids should be seen and not
heard?” Jonesy sneered at the boy. “You didn’t answer my question. Who are you
and what’re you doing here?”
“My
name is Jim Frayne. This is my house, so I can be here if I want. And
you didn’t do what I asked. Put down my father’s tools!”
Jonesy
put the carver back down on the table, mainly from surprise. He stared at the
kid in disbelief. This is her kid, he thought in
disbelief. Well, this is just great! I finally found a woman I like and
she’s got some brat!
“I
didn’t know Katie had a kid.” Jonesy
attempted a friendly tone but wasn’t sure if he accomplished it or not. He hated kids!
“Well,
she does.” Jonesy noticed Jim was making no effort to take the edge out of his
voice. He had to admit that, for a boy, Jim didn’t show any fear. Must be
his redheaded temper, Jonesy thought.
“Do
you mind showing me where those tools are, boy?”
Jim didn’t move a muscle, instead using his
emerald gaze to stare down the stranger he’d found in his barn.
“I
just wanna see if I can fix that truck for your Ma,”
Jonesy said, attempting to sway the young man. “I’m not gonna
swipe ‘em or anything.”
Jonesy
watched Jim’s face at the mention of his mother. The young man seemed to soften
and consider what Jonesy had said. A real mama’s boy.
May come in handy to know that, Jonesy thought. He watched as Jim pulled a toolbox from a
shelf in the back. It was obviously
heavy, but Jim managed it easily.
“So,
how old are you, kid? You look about thirteen or so, but yer
ma doesn’t look old enough to have a kid that age.”
“I’m
ten, almost eleven,” Jim answered gruffly. “I just look old for my age. Are you
going to look at that engine or not? It’s getting late and I’m sure you’ll need
to leave soon.”
Jonesy
sneered. Guess who’s coming to dinner, Jimmy boy.
Chapter Three
Jonesy
was glad to get away from that kid. Jim proceeded to busily straighten his
father’s workshop table after giving Jonesy the tools. Jonesy took that opportunity to escape. He
stomped all the way to the old truck and popped the hood. Just what have you
got yourself into? Meet some pretty blonde and you go from a heartless cad to
some yellow-bellied knight in shining armor. He slammed the toolbox on a
picnic table near the truck and studied the engine. She may be beautiful,
but she’s got a kid! And not just any kid. A mouthy red-haired
kid. Even if I could get her interested in me, I’d be stuck with some
redheaded step-kid! Jonesy
snickered. Maybe that’s where that saying came from. Some poor sap probably
was knocked loopy by a pair of big blue eyes and married a widow with a
redheaded brat who couldn’t keep his yap shut! That won’t be me! There’s no way
I’m gonna...
“Any
luck?” Katie’s soft voice startled Jonesy and made him jump. He hit his head on
the hood of the truck. Maybe that’ll knock these fool thoughts out of my
thick head, he thought to himself bitterly.
“I
brought you some lemonade,” she said, offering him a tall glass. “I thought you
might be thirsty.”
Jonesy
wiped his greasy hands on a handkerchief from his back pocket. “Thank you, ma’am. It is
a bit hot out today.” As he took the glass from her their hands touched. The intensity he felt at such a small contact
bothered him, and he quickly took the glass. He took a long drink and tried to
clear his thoughts. Gonna take something harder than lemonade to get this girl outta my mind.
They
sat down at the picnic table while Jonesy finished his lemonade. “I think I
found the problem,” he said, holding the cool glass to his sweaty brow. “That
racket you heard in the engine was the fan belt. It’s torn in two. That
particular fan belt is really wide and runs the whole engine. The half that was
on was running the whole engine, and what was left was slapping the motor. It’s
a good thing you made it home when did. It wouldn’t have been long before the
half running the engine came off too, and you woulda
been stuck. You’ll need a new one put on before you go anywhere.”
Katie
sighed and bit her lip. “I’m glad I made it home, at least. Tomorrow morning I
can call a tow truck to take it into the shop. I’m glad you told me or I might
have tried to limp it to the diner in the morning.”
“Do you
have a way into work?”
Katie
nodded. “My neighbor that lives up the
road goes to work the same time I do. She’s employed at the store across the
street from the diner. I’m sure I can hitch a ride with her.”
“Well,
I need to come back here with my trailer to pick up that plow. I could come
back on Saturday and fix it for you,” Jonesy offered.
“You
would? I would appreciate it so much! I’d be happy to pay you anything...”
Jonesy
shook his head. “Nah. It wouldn’t take much labor. Just an hour or so. And I can pick up a fan belt for twenty
bucks.”
“It
still seems like a lot of trouble for you. I’d hate for you to go out of your
way.”
“If
my pop wasn’t dead, he’d slap me if I didn’t help out a widow woman.” Especially one as pretty
as this.
Katie
laughed. “That’s very nice of you. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay all the
kindness you’ve shown.” She looked up
and saw Jim shutting the garage door. Her eyes brightened at the sight of her
son. “Jimmy! Come over here and meet someone!”
Jim hurried to his mother’s side.
“We
ran into each other in the garage, but I don’t think we’ve been properly
introduced,” Jonesy said with a grin. “Yer boy helped
me find the tools. He told me his name, but I never got around to telling him
mine. Jim, I’m Jacobson Jones, but you can call me Jonesy.” He stuck out his hand.
Jim
studied him carefully and hesitantly shook Jonesy’s hand. Jonesy ever so
slightly increased the pressure, and Jim matched him. His green eyes locked with Jonesy’s dark
ones, and Jim stared him down. “Glad to meet you... sir.”
“Nice
manners you got there, boy.”
“My
father taught me to be polite to my elders. He was a great man.” Jonesy quickly
ended the shake. He couldn’t stand this kid. If his ma wasn’t so
pretty, I’d be on the first train to the other side of town.
“I
need to go in and finish up dinner,” Katie said as she stood up to go in the
house. “Jimmy, why don’t you help Mr. Jones clean up here, then you both can
wash your hands for supper.” She lovingly ruffled her son’s hair, and walked
back to the house. Jonesy noticed the
scowl that crossed the boy’s face at the mention of his staying for dinner. He
also noticed that, although Jim obviously didn’t want him there, the kid didn’t
say anything to his mother. He silently obeyed his mother and began cleaning up
the tools.
“You
always do what yer told right away?” Jonesy asked,
almost mockingly.
“I
try to mind my mom. My father taught me a lot of things before he died, and
respecting my parents was one them.” Jim wiped his
hands on his jeans and picked up the toolbox. “Now that Dad is gone, I try to
help Mom and take care of her as best as I can.” They walked to the garage and proceeded to
put away the tools.
“Well,
Jimmy, I’m just trying to help her out too. My daddy always encouraged
me and my brother to treat a lady right.” Especially if
she was good-lookin’.
“My
name’s Jim,” the kid said angrily. “Don’t call me Jimmy.”
“You
don’t like that, huh? Well, if I’m not mistaken, I heard yer
Ma call you Jimmy not ten minutes ago.”
Jonesy may not like the boy, but he sure enjoyed making him hot under
the collar.
“That’s
different. She’s my mom and can call me whatever she wants.” Jim angrily
slammed the door of the garage. “My name
is James Winthrop Frayne the Second, in case you have trouble remembering ‘Jim’.”
“Well,
Jimmy, aren’t you just the little crown prince.” Jonesy scornfully
laughed at the kid. “Now, where do we wash up, James Winthrop Frayne the
Second?”
Jim
gritted his teeth and led the way to a large sink in the barn. He showed Jonesy where the soap was and went
over to his horse’s stall. He was too
angry to try and be sociable.
Jonesy
didn’t mind the silence. He knew he had rattled Jim’s cage and was enjoying
that fact immensely. I never knew
kids could be this much fun! he thought to himself.
As
Jonesy washed his hands, he watched Jim lovingly pet his horse. It was a large,
black gelding, larger than any horse Jonesy had ever seen. Not that he had paid
much attention to horses. “That yer
horse, boy?”
“He
was my dad’s.” Jim answered, unable to
keep the pain out of his voice. “His name is Blackie. Dad let me name him when
I was four.”
“So yer old man liked horses, huh? What else did he do for fun? I assume that
junk in the garage was his.”
As much
as Jim disliked this Jonesy, he loved talking about his father. “It’s not junk.
It was my dad’s woodworking things. He was an excellent carpenter.”
“Hey,
I meant no offense, kid. I saw the shelf he made. It was real good.”
“Thanks,”
Jim replied softly. “Dad was really talented. He was working on that shelf for
my Mom’s birthday before he died.”
“That’s
tough luck. It’s hard only having one parent. I lost my mom when I was around yer age.”
“I’m
sorry.” Jim couldn’t help but feel sympathy for the unsavory man. It was
against his nature to be hateful.
“Don’t
waste yer sympathy on me, kid. Ma didn’t die. She
took off with Dad’s best friend. Dad only wished that he coulda
met him first.” Jonesy chuckled at his
joke. “Someday you’ll get that, kid. That’s funny. So what was all those books
and jars on that shelf in there?”
“Dad loved animals and he studied them for a
living. He was a naturalist. There wasn’t an animal alive that Dad couldn’t
make friends with. He worked for the state, taking care of the animals in the
preserves around here. He also taught a few classes on zoology at the local
college. He was a really good teacher. All his students liked him. Sometimes we
would go to the pond and gather up different samples of plants for his class.”
“So
Daddy was father of the year?” Jonesy’s voice dripped with scorn.
“Yeah,
he was. He was a wonderful father. He taught me stuff and spent lots of time
with me and Mom. We went fishing and
camping. He loved horses and taught me
to ride when I was little. From the time I was five, I could ride this horse
bareback with only a halter rope to guide him.”
The
slight pride in Jim’s voice grated Jonesy. Jonesy’s dad never taught him
anything, except how to drink and fight and pick up women. “Well, aren’t you a regular little Roy
Rogers,” he said sarcastically.
“Do you
ride?” Jim asked.
“I
don’t care much for animals of any kind. I’ve met a few stray dogs that I could
relate to, but I prefer a fast car to a dumb horse.” Jonesy dried his hands on the towel hanging
by the sink. Jim was giving the horse a sugar cube and whispering unknown
things to it. “So what are you going to do with yer
horse after you move to yer apartment next month?”
Jim’s
shoulders sagged. “I guess I’ll have to sell him. I really hate to, though. I
want him to have a good home.”
Jonesy
scratched his chin. “I may have a friend that’d be interested in him.”
“Would
he be good to him?” Jim gave the horse some grain and a clean supply of water.
He gave it a final pat and closed the stall door.
“Oh, sure! He’d feed him real good to fatten him up before he turned
him into dog food!” Jonesy chuckled
heartily at the look of horror on Jim’s face. “Well, kid, I’m heading inside to
see what yer Ma’s up to. You wash up like a good
boy.” Jonesy swaggered off, leaving Jim alone.
Jim washed his hands and let out a deep sigh.
It was going to be a long evening.
*Thank you to my wonderful editors, Kaye, Kathy, and Lori
D. You all were such a big help! Thanks for being my guinea pigs!
As you can tell, Jonesy’s grammar isn’t the best in the
world, but that was purely intentional. *G*
*Thank you to Anna for putting this idea in my head to
begin with!
*And a big thank you to my husband, Damon, who although
he has never read a Trixie in his entire life, tirelessly read this fanfic and told me
what he thought.
And I won’t forget the usual disclaimer of these
characters aren’t mine and are the sole property of Random House and blah,
blah, blah…However, John senior and junior, as well as Peggy, ARE mine, so I
can do with them as I please. *veg*