Cajun Justice

by James Patterson

  “Hey, buddy,” Cain said as he patted the top of the friendly dog’s head. “You been taking care of my brother?”

  Claude removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. When he realized it was his older son, he dropped his tools and raced toward Cain. The two of them embraced, cheek to cheek. Cain almost collapsed into his arms, supported by his father.

  “It’s been way too long.” Cain sighed.

  “Stopping by to make your annual visit?” Seth said sarcastically as he casually strolled toward Cain, wiping grease off his hands with a rag.

  “I’d come more if you weren’t here,” Cain joked. “Get over here and give me a hug. You’re moving like an old man.”

  “Welcome home, son.” Tears were forming in Claude’s joyful eyes. “Are you jus’ makin’ a pit stop, or ees dis for good?”

  “At least for a while,” Cain replied.

  “Dieu merci!” Claude said with excitement. “Dat’s music to ma old ears.”

  Margaret, Cain’s mother, saw the celebration from the living room window. She rushed outside and hugged Cain tightly as the men peppered him with questions.

  “Let my boy take a breath for a moment. He’s been on the road for no telling how long,” she scolded.

  “Thank you, Mom.”

  She stepped back and eyed Cain up and down. “You’re looking so thin,” she said. “You mus’ be starvin’.”

  “I could eat.”

  “We all could,” Claude said. “Allons à la maison. Me, I’m gonna prepare da bes’ crawfish étouffée wit rice you ever had.”

  The family sat together at the wooden table in the kitchen while Claude rustled up dinner. “Seth, fetch me some green onions from da garden.”

  “Can’t it wait? I’m interrogating Cain about why he’s back home all of a sudden.”

  “He ain’t goin’ nowhere. You’ll have plenty of time to git dem details. Go grab some okra, tomatoes, an’ squash.”

  “I’ll go get ’em,” Cain said.

  “Jus’ sit an’ relax, son. You been ridin’ for days,” Claude said. “Seth got two legs.”

  Cain laughed. “I hear that. But I need to stretch mine. I’ll go help you, Seth.”

  The brothers walked outside and starting picking vegetables from the garden. They were practically shoulder to shoulder, but when Cain looked over at his brother, he saw Seth at about seven or eight years old. Just like old times, he thought. Gathering vegetables for dinner. Except the innocence of that seven-year-old boy was left overseas in a combat zone.

  “I’m glad you’re here to take care of Mom and Pops,” Cain told his younger brother.

  “The farm has a way of taking care of all of us. Glad you’re back home, Cain.”

  They walked back into the house with a handful of the freshest vegetables. Cain was feeling nostalgic. He looked around the kitchen and noticed that nothing had changed in the last thirty-something years. The same wallpaper and old family pictures adorned the walls. It comforted him. The whole experience of being back home felt like being a bird returned to its nest. He exhaled deeply and then smiled. Here he could relax completely.

  “Whatcha lookin’ at, sweetie?” Margaret asked as she placed a soft hand on Cain’s face.

  “This kitchen looks the exact same as it did when I used to live here.”

  “So many memories created here,” she said. “So many meals together. I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

  “Ma heart ees full tonight.” Claude, a typical Cajun, wiped tears from his eyes. “I’m as happy as a tick on a fat dog.”

  Cain laughed. “That’s just the onions making you cry.”

  “Non,” he shot back, and shook his head. “I’m so glad to have ma family togeder. Da only way to make dis day any better ees eef Bonnie waz here wit us.”

  “I’ll talk to her,” Cain said. “Maybe she can deadhead this way soon.”

  “Good! Well, dinner ees done,” Claude said with glee. He offered a blessing over the meal and then served his family. He made sure everyone put plenty of food on their plates. “Eef you go to bed hungry, eet’s your fault.”

  “God, it smells heavenly,” Cain said. “I can’t remember the last time I had food like this.” Cain took one bite and nodded in approval. “Ça c’est bon!”

  Claude smiled and winked. “We have plenty of work here on da farm to keep you busy,” he said. “An’ we don’t need no money. Dis house has been paid off since your grandfather waz kickin’.”

  Margaret smiled and placed her hand on top of Cain’s, which was resting on top of the dining table. “I’m not goin’ to let you go this time.”

  Cain took a second helping of corn bread and spread some butter on it with an old knife that had a fleur-de-lis on the handle. “I’m not planning to go anywhere. This is where I belong for now. Si Dieu le veut.”

  Chapter 30

  A crowing sound pierced the silence, waking Cain from the most restful sleep he could remember. He peeled back the window’s curtain and saw a haggard rooster balancing on top of the wooden fence around the barn. The sun was barely entering the day. When did Pops get a rooster? he wondered. He hates that sound as much as I do.

  Cain lay back down on the mattress. It was the same bed that was his in high school. The springs were worn, and it no longer provided any back support. But his mom and dad came from the generation that didn’t believe in getting rid of anything, so Cain’s old room was practically the same as when he left for college, with the addition of a few “great deals” from yard sales that had accumulated in the corners. That’s where Cain differed from his parents: he didn’t like clutter and didn’t hold on to things “just in case” he might need them someday. He had brought everything that was important to him to Louisiana: his motorcycle, his wedding ring, his wristwatch, his wedding picture, and a photo of his son, Christopher, sleeping on Cain’s chest.

  He slowly made his way out of bed and into the kitchen, where Claude was already sitting at the table, working on a crossword puzzle.

  “Asian mafia?” Claude asked.

  “Um,” Cain said. “Can I at least get some coffee first—to get my brain going?”

  Claude put down his crossword puzzle and grabbed coffee beans from a brown paper bag in the fridge, where he stowed them to keep them safe from the humidity. He ground the whole beans and placed them in his French press, then opened the cupboard and grabbed two mugs. He poured each of them a cup.

  “Chinese triads,” Cain suggested.

  “Not enough letters. Six letters an’ has a z toward da end.”

  “Try yakuza,” Cain said.

  “Dat’s eet! Hopefully Bonnie ain’t messin’ wit dem folks.”

  Cain laughed out loud. “She’s so busy at work, I don’t think she has time for a social life, much less time to hang out with the Japanese mafia.”

  “Well, you know your sister. She always liked dem bad-boy types.”

  Cain smirked. “How many of her boyfriends did you run off the front yard with a shotgun?”

  Claude chuckled. “I quit countin’ a lon’ time ago.”

  The rooster crowed again.

  “When did you get a rooster?” Cain asked.

  “Dat’s Mignon. He’s ma li’l cutie. I rescued heem from an overcrowded chicken house. Da older roosters waz pulling out hees feders. Caused dat little fellow all kinds of stress. He’s happy on da farm. Dem feders will grow back. I guarantee eet. We have a competition each mornin’—to see who wakes up firs’.”

  “Well, you’re up before Mignon. That’s impressive. How you sleeping?” Cain asked.

  “Bon. Très bon! Happy you’re back home, son.”

  “Me, too.”

  “How you slept?” Claude asked.

  “Like the dead. I didn’t toss once.”

  “You needed dat. You waz starting to look older dan las’ time.”

  Cain chuckled. “I am older than last time. Plus, I’ve gotten some extra city miles
on this body since last time you saw me.”

  “I hear dat. Give eet some time. Your feders will grow back, jus’ like Mignon’s.”

  “Besides that little competition with Mignon, why are you up and dressed so early? Aren’t you retired by now?”

  “Shhhhit. I’ll be retired when dey bury me. Dem floods hit dis region hard. Damaged soybean fields. People’s livelihood, son. I’m flyin’ to Abbeville dis morning. Need to fertilize a few soybean an’ rice fields.”

  “Is Seth able to help you with the business?”

  “Eet comes an’ goes. Sometimes I feel like I lost heem in Iraq, an’ other times he’s da old Seth we raised here on da farm. But havin’ your bes’ friend take hees last breath in your arms on da battlefield—eet’s a tough ting to experience. It would change anybody.”

  “You have him flying any?”

  “Nah. I can’t risk eet. Can’t have heem havin’ an episode in da air. As long as he’s on da ground wit Sunny, he’s fine. He helps me wit da maintenance. Da boy can fix anyting. He even painted dat bird a few monts ago.”

  “Is that why it’s bright yellow now?”

  “Easy to spot in da sky,” Claude replied, and winked.

  They chitchatted in the kitchen for about ten more minutes and then Cain followed Claude to the barn. A light wind blew through the barn door, bringing the wind chimes to life.

  Claude pointed to the corner of the dusty barn. “Eet’s still dare. Your punchin’ bag. Hittin’ dat old ting ees still da best way to get rid of any stress you got.”

  “I can’t believe it hasn’t dry-rotted by now,” Cain said as he walked toward it.

  “I can,” Claude said. “Eet’s American made. Eet’s built to take a beatin’. Jus’ like dis Air Tractor 802.” He pointed to his airplane. “Jus’ like dat rooster. An’ jus’ like you an’ me.”

  Cain helped his dad pull the airplane out of the barn.

  “I’ll be back soon,” Claude said. He hopped into the cockpit. “Clear prop!”

  Cain looked around to make sure it was safe. “Clear!” he yelled back so his dad could hear from inside the cockpit.

  Claude flipped the switch and the propeller started spinning strong after initially rotating lazily a few times. A cloud of smoke blew out the exhaust, which was normal for its first flight of the day. He taxied onto the grass and took off into the sky. He rocked his wings before turning westbound and disappearing into the distance.

  Cain walked over to the heavy bag. His boxing coach had long since passed away, but Cain could still hear him talking. “Sometimes a fight jus’ comes a-looking for you. When dat happens, you finish eet.”

  The more Cain thought about Tomcat and the SAC, the angrier he became. He picked up his old gloves and studied them. They were marred with sweat and dried blood. Unlike with the heavy bag, the years of abuse and heat and humidity had dry-rotted them. He tossed them on a stack of hay. He started punching the bag with his bare fists. He continued punching the bag until he couldn’t lift his arms anymore. They burned as if they were on fire, and his heart felt as if it was about to explode. His knuckles bled, and he was drenched in sweat. He took off his shirt to wipe away the sweat from his face and the blood from his hands. He plopped down on a bale of hay and watched squirrels play in the treetops as he tried to catch his breath and make his heart rate slow down. He remembered his navy training about how to combat-breathe to lower his heart rate. Inhale through the nose. Hold it for four seconds. Exhale through the mouth. Hold it for four seconds. He repeated this process several times.

  His breathing had slowed enough for him to hear the faint sound of Claude’s plane returning. Cain turned skyward and searched for his father. He saw the plane bank left and position for a landing on the grass strip. Cain had watched his father land at least a thousand times, but it never got old. He always marveled at what a great pilot Claude was. He swooped the plane over the grass in a slow and steady way and touched down like a butterfly with sore feet. He killed the engine about twenty yards from the barn and let the momentum carry him the rest of the way. When the prop stopped windmilling, he jumped out of the cockpit and onto the wing as if he was still a young man.

  “You’re still looking good, Pops.”

  Claude smiled, showing his teeth. “Ain’t nuttin’ to eet. Dat flying keeps me young. I’ll keep at eet until I can’t do eet anymore.”

  “You want me to refuel it?” Cain asked.

  “Non. J’ai terminé.”

  “That’s not bad—done with work and it’s not even nine o’clock yet.”

  “Life’s simpler out here. Not easy, jus’ simpler.”

  From the distance, a pickup truck turned onto the long dirt road that led up to the house. After a few moments, it pulled into the driveway.

  “Well, dat didn’t take long. News still travels fas’ out here in da country,” Claude said with a smile.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You’ll see,” Claude said as he walked toward the house, opened the screen door, and went inside.

  Cain still didn’t recognize the truck, but he recognized the lady who stepped out. She was wearing cowboy boots, tight jeans, and a smile that could light up a room.

  Chapter 31

  “Well, well, well,” she said. “Normally, you can’t believe all the rumors you hear in a small town. But in this case…”

  “Elise LeBlanc,” Cain said with excitement. They had known each other since elementary school.

  “In the flesh,” she replied.

  Cain rushed toward his high school sweetheart, and they embraced.

  “Oh, you stink to high heaven! Mr. Lemaire working you to death already?”

  “I was exercising. Had you told me you were coming, I would have fancied myself up a little bit.”

  They laughed together.

  “You look amazing,” Cain said.

  “You, too. So, what’s a gal gotta do around here to get a flight over the bayou?”

  “Well, normally, I’d charge you full price. But I haven’t flown in over a year, so if you’re willing to trust me, I’ll take you for free.”

  “Ain’t nothing free in this world, honey, but I ain’t scared to go up with you. It’ll be just like old times.”

  “I’ll be right back,” Cain said. “Let me grab the keys and change my shirt—something less sweaty.”

  “And less bloody,” she said.

  “You’ve gotten more demanding over the years,” Cain joked.

  “I just know what I want,” she replied.

  The screen door slammed as he ran in and then out of the house, back toward Elise. They walked toward his dad’s low-wing taildragger. Most agriculture planes were designed for only one pilot, but Claude owned the two-seat variant since teaching his children how to fly had been important to him.

  Cain held Elise’s hand to help her step onto the wing and into the open cockpit. He buckled her seat belt and handed her a headset.

  “Aren’t you going to give me your old scripted safety briefing?” She giggled. “If you throw up,” she mocked, “then I’ll throw up, because I’m a sympathetic puker. And if I start throwing up, then I’ll have to declare an emergency.”

  Cain smiled at the nostalgia. “Nah. I have a stronger stomach than I did in high school.” He jumped in, buckled himself, and put on a headset. This is just like old times. He smiled even bigger than he had when she had gotten out of her truck.

  “What kind of takeoff do you want?” he asked.

  “Like the ones you used to do.”

  “Can you handle it?”

  “I can handle anything you throw my way.” She was clearly flirting.

  “Roger that.” Cain applied full throttle. The turboprop sprang to life and they catapulted into the sky at over 850 feet per minute. Cain leveled off at 1500 feet and they soared over the marshlands while catching up. They had shared many flights together over the bayous, but it had been so many years since they’d been together.

&nb
sp; “I heard you got a divorce,” Cain said.

  “That’s the thing about small towns. Can’t do anything without everybody knowing your business.”

  “I didn’t realize it was classified information.”

  “Last year I caught Scottie ‘dating’ a girl that worked at his nightclub in Lafayette, and it was the straw that broke this camel’s back. But we share joint custody of Brandon. Every boy needs a father in his life.”

  “How old is Brandon now? Six? Seven?”

  “Ten!”

  “Wow. Time flies,” Cain said in disbelief.

  “It’ll slow down for you now that you’re back home.”

  “Well, I might only be here temporarily.”

  “What do you mean? You just got back.”

  “Bonnie calls practically every day, begging me to come out to Japan. She says there is a job waiting for me there if I want it.”

  “Well, do you?”

  “Do I what?”

  “Do you want to move to Japan?”

  “Not really. I like it here. What they say is true: there’s really no place like home. But it would be great to be closer to Bonnie.”

  “If you were to stay, you could run for sheriff. You’d win for sure.”

  Cain scoffed. “Oh, God. That’s the last thing I’d want to do. Way too political. I’d just enjoy flying some fertilizer runs. And speaking of flying, we gotta head back. We’re running low on fuel.”

  “Perfect timing. I have to pick up Brandon.”

  After Cain landed the plane, Elise exclaimed, “That was exhilarating! It brought back such great memories.” Then she added, “I’m putting together a little picnic next weekend, just me and Brandon. We’d love for you to join us.”

  “That sounds nice. I’d like to be there. What can I bring?”

  “Just yourself.”

  Chapter 32

  Basking in the rays of early-summer unemployment, Cain fell into an easy routine at home over the next few days. He was helping out his family around the house, and even flying some crop-dusting missions for his dad. Tending the garden, making house repairs, and tinkering on the airplane was tiring work, but it felt therapeutic to Cain. He was eating healthier and sleeping better than when he was on the president’s whirlwind schedule.