MARSHAL'S LAW #5: KNOW WHERE TO DRAW THE LINE
It hadn’t been an easy night. Marshal paced, his moods swinging like the pendulum of an old grandfather clock- anger to misery and back again. The grey promise of morning had been a relief. He planned to work until his body begged for the sleep he couldn’t find.
But when he saw his eldest son waiting for him at the stables, the sky hardly pink with dawn and the autumn fog clinging to the tips of the tall grasses, fresh alarms rang in his head. Not that he’d show it. Of course not. But Mark wasn’t one for mornings. Or the outdoors. Or animals. So, watching him all but bounce on the balls of his feet by the stable doors was enough to set his teeth on edge. The boy was obviously scheming.
“Something on your mind, son?”
“Payback.”
The single word stalled the older man’s steps. He searched his son’s face, wondering at his meaning. “I ain’t doin’ nothing illegal.”
Mark’s eyes rolled. “Of course not, Pop. But what’s Mom tried to do to you since you left her?”
Ruin me. Marshal felt no need to actually say it aloud. He pushed open the barn door with a long, groaning squeal.
Mark followed, his excitement and anxiety stiffening the barn air. “Dad, I think I’ve got you a job.”
Marshal secured one of the boarding horses to a post and methodically retrieved his grooming supplies. “That right?”
Something deflated in his son’s countenance. “Yeah,” he said and pushed his way around the horse until he could see his father’s careful expressions. “What better . . . revenge . . . than to do exactly what she vowed you’d never do? Get back into the game? The big league . . .”
“I’ve got a job.”
Mark slouched against the side of a stall and shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “Look, dad, you’ve had your fun. You played farmer. Don’t you think it’s time to get back to real life?”
“Seems real enough to me.”
“But you’re losing the farm,” he said, “because of her. Again.” He watched his father for a long moment. “Dad, Monica’s told me everything. I’ve seen the paperwork. Mom’s got you screwed . . . and she’s untouchable. You won’t be able to pin this on her.” He kicked a stray pebble before straightening. “But this time . . . this time you can come out on top.”
“I ain’t givin’ in.”
“Exactly,” he said, as if Marshal’s words proved his point. “Look, I know why you did everything you did back then. I hated you for it, but I understood. But none of that holds you now. Kody’s probably gonna end up in the middle of nowhere. Susan and I can go . . . anywhere.”
Marshal kept to his task, his eyes unfocused. Was it time to leave this part of his life behind? God knows, the mornings were early. It made a man’s body sore, keeping on this way. And he wasn’t ready for retirement, not for another ten years or so. So, why not go back?
When Marshal didn’t respond quick enough, Mark pushed a little harder. “You’ve still got what it takes. Tell them you were exploring other dreams, fulfilling personal goals. They like stuff like that. Tell them you’re ready to come back.”
“And do what?”
“Live!” Mark dropped his hands to his sides. Sagging against the wall, he said, “You just gave up. The house, the money, the job . . . you let her take it all.” He stared at his shoes like a dejected child. “And you’re going to do it again.”
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Marshal's Law
ChickLit“Has that ‘curl up with hot chocolate and read’ feel to it.” ~*~*~ Monica doesn't believe in life after death. Obligations, certainly. But, after her husband's death, there hasn’t been much ‘life’ to speak of. Just her kids, her farm, and the ma...
