Finally, Katie raised her head. "Drop me the backpack."
He did. She stuffed piglets into it. They clambered out as fast as she put them in, but finally she had all of them crammed inside.
"You've still gotta get out of there," he said.
"I know."
"Is that a yes?"
She nodded, tightening the zipper up to the heads of the squirming mass of piglets inside the pack.
"God does hear my prayers," he said with a wide grin. "Give me your hands."
With an effort, she slipped on the straps of the backpack then stepped onto a rock on the floor of the cavern. He reached through the opening for her hands. Grimacing, he made a show of straining to lift her.
"How much do you weigh, anyway?" he grunted.
"It's the pigs, not me."
"So you say."
She giggled. He lost his grip, dropping her to the sandy floor. Two of the piglets tumbled out, and then another one. She captured them then he tried to lift her again as another piglet scrambled from the pack. He teased her and she giggled, dropping from his grip each time he tried to lift her.
"Katie, this ain't gonna work," he panted, finally, as yet another piglet wiggled to freedom.
She stood, breathless. "Maybe we could catch the sow outside and then lure the piglets out."
"Okay. Sure," he said dryly. "Let's try that. I haven't competed in a greased pig contest since I was about seven. Maybe I've improved."
She laughed and replaced the piglets in the sandy indention then held up her hands. Without the pigs, he got her to the opening. With a final heave, he rolled over to pull her through the hole on top of him.
She collapsed on his chest, her dainty features flushed with laughter and effort. Her ponytail fell across his face, its familiar fragrance filling his senses. He breathed deeply of it, and then brushed it aside to meet her eyes just above him. His heart hammered, suddenly unrelated to his recent exertion.
Her smile slowly faded. He raised his head and lightly kissed her, questioning. Her heart raced against his. Holding her head in his hands, he drew her closer, lingering on the warm, trembling softness of her lips.
Suddenly, she gasped, jerking her head from his hands like a spooked horse. She scrambled away.
He bolted upright and reached for her. "Katie…"
She shrugged her shoulder away, hiding her face in the bend of her elbow.
"I didn't mean to do that. Honest." He scooted closer across the rock and lifted her chin. "Look at me."
She dropped her arm, her eyes flashing. "I'm not some kind of…floozy, or something. Just because I said you could be my boyfriend doesn't mean you can—"
"Floozy?" He stared at her. "It was just a kiss."
"Maybe it's nothing to you, but it is to me. I don't go around kissing…people. We barely know each other. Dad said—"
"Augh!" He clutched his head, frustrated. "I wish your dad didn't say so much."
"He says—"
"Katie, that kiss meant everything to me because it's you. I've been dreamin' about it since the first time I saw you, but I didn't mean to do it just now—" he scowled at her—and it's stupid to talk like we barely know each other. I feel like I've known you all my life."
"Is that supposed to be an apology?"
"No. I'm not sorry. I'd do it again."
They sat glaring at each other.
"You wanted to kiss me when you ran over my dog?"
"I did. Right there."
"That wouldn't have gone very well."
"I didn't think it would. That's why I didn't."
Her lips twitched.
He grinned sheepishly. "If I promise not to kiss you again will you still be my girlfriend?"
"Never again?" Her eyes smiled.
He laughed. "Geez. I hope not. How's this sound…you kiss me when you're ready and I'll take it from there?"
She moved a little closer to him.
He slipped his arm around her. "Is that a yes?"
"Maybe," she said and laid her head on his shoulder.
Thirty minutes later, the sow wandered back down the creek bed. Grunting, she settled herself inside the cavern and the baby pigs quieted.
Katie sighed. "We'll have to try to catch her."
He eyed her doubtfully. "How?"
"You go down there by the hole. I'll get a long stick and try to drive her out from up here. When she comes out, you can grab her.
"What then?"
"I don't know. Think of something."
"Did I remember to tell you I don't like pigs?"
She giggled and shoved him with her elbow. "You should've thought of that when you volunteered for this. I have some rope in the backpack. You can tie her up."
He shook his head doubtfully then clambered down the boulder pile while Katie fetched a long branch broken from a cottonwood tree to the west of them.
She peered over a rock at him. "You ready?" she called.
"I wouldn't do this for anybody else," he called back.
She smiled then disappeared above him. A moment later, the pig squealed. He tensed. The sow rocketed through the hole, and he launched himself. He crashed down hard on top of the pig, locking his arms. The sow didn't stop, but raced into the shallow water of the creek, squealing fit to burst his eardrums.
The icy water hit him in a wave. He gasped, but held on. The pig scrambled over slick stones and through water and mud like a crazed bulldozer, bumping his ribs painfully over the rocks. Katie's shrieks of laughter reached him.
"Hey," he shouted. "Some help down here?"
She splashed through the water toward him then tripped on a rock. Falling headlong across him and the pig, she broke his grip. The pig ran on, insulted squeals echoing from the rocks until they faded into the distance.
Katie rose to her knees. He raised his head from his position sprawled on his stomach in two inches of muddy water, blinking to clear his vision.
She giggled.
He made a lunge for her. "Somethin' funny?"
"Gil, no!" she shrieked.
He grabbed her, pulling her down to splash her with the muddy water. She struggled, gasping and shrieking with laughter. Finally slipping from his grasp, she turned to scramble to her feet. He dragged her down again. She screamed. He pinned her beneath him.
Laughing and breathless, he held her down, his eyes only inches from hers. Water from his hair dripped onto her face. The laughter slowly left her gaze. He willed her lips to move a fraction of an inch toward him.
They didn't.
He smoothed away the drops of water on her face with his thumb. "I don't think we can catch that pig."
"You don't smell very good," she murmured.
"That's the pig, not me."
"So you say." Her mouth curved into a smile.
He couldn't stop himself.
He lowered his head but she stopped him with her fingers against his mouth. He met her gaze over her hand. She shook her head slightly, still smiling. He sighed.
He'd never in his life had such a hard time getting kissed.
He stood then pulled her up after him. Her color high, she wrung the water from her ponytail.
He eyed her soaked and mud splattered clothes. "At least we look like we tried to catch the pig."
"When she comes back, we can block her in so the coyotes don't get the babies, then—" she flushed—"we can come back tomorrow with Karl and Tim to help. If you want to."
"I'd rather they didn't come."
She laughed. "Give me your hanky."
She used his handkerchief to clean the mud from his face and hers. They climbed the boulder pile to a sunny spot, waiting for the sow to reappear while their clothes dried. After a while, the pig wandered back into the den, apparently unperturbed. He blocked the opening with stones and settled himself on the rock beside Katie again.
The afternoon waned and the air grew cold in the shadow of the thirty-foot tall cottonwood tree. She shivered in the circle of his arm.
&n
bsp; Suddenly, she jerked her head from his shoulder. "Is it almost dark?" She leaped to her feet as if something had stung her. "Gil, we've got to go. Dad's going to kill me…"
She turned to scramble down the pile of boulders. He followed her over the slick stones of the creek and through the brush until they topped the hill into the home pasture. Her steps got faster as the sun set at the far end of the valley. Finally, she broke into a run, her panic shattering the easy companionship between them.
"Katie, it'll be okay," he panted, tugging at her hand as they ran. "I'll talk to him."
"I am dead."
They ran into the yard together. Her dad stood silhouetted against the porch light, feet apart, arms crossed against his chest.
His stomach clenched. It didn't look like they'd tried to catch the pig. It looked like they'd been rolling around in the mud together. And it was true—she was dead. And so was he.
Katie dropped his hand like fire. "I'm sorry, Dad, I lost track of time. It won't happen—"
"Get inside." Her dad's voice cut through the chilly air with a razor edge. "I'll deal with you later."
She hurried up the steps and into the house without a glance.
Jon stared down at him, eyes glinting in his shadowed face. "I let my girl go with you today because she'd got the bit between her teeth, but there won't be no more of this. Don't call her. Don't come over. You wanna see her, you go to church and sit with her. That's it. You chance on her by accident somewhere else, you keep your hands to yourself, your mouth to yourself, and your pants on. You got that?"
"Yes, sir."
"I got a boy that can't walk, a sick wife, and more bills than money. I ain't in the mood to have some worthless, fornicatin', barroom punk who just got out of jail molestin' my daughter. You understand me?"
"Yes, sir. If I could say—"
"Shut up and listen. She ain't like the girls you're used to. If you try to mess around with her, I'll tear you up. Don't think I won't. I'm liable to lose my religion if you play around with my girl. Are we clear?"
"Yes, sir, but I'm not playin' with her," he blurted. "I love her."
Her dad stared at him incredulously, and then gave a derisive snort. "You don't even know what love means."
He opened his mouth to reply, but the older man raised a hand and turned away. "End of discussion."
Jon turned into the house and slammed the door, leaving him alone and deflated where the glow from the porch light merged into the night.
Chapter Nine
Twenty minutes later at the Lone Tree General Store, a cold wind gusted up the valley and over the rushing water of the creek, whirling an empty paper bag and a Snickers wrapper along the sidewalk to lodge under the payphone. Gil had stopped at the public phone, unwilling for his grandfather to overhear the call he made. Turning his back to the wind, he pulled up the collar of his coat and lifted the receiver.
Fifteen minutes later he had used all his change, including what he had raked out from under his pickup seat, but he finally had the correct telephone number from the operator. His mother answered.
"Your wildest dreams have come true, Mama," he said after a few minute's talk. "I've found a nice girl."
"Gil, that's wonderful!"
"This's the big one."
"You're sure? What's her name?"
"Katie Campbell."
Silence.
"Mama? You still there?"
"Jon and…Becky Campbell's girl?"
"Yeah. You remember them?"
His mother cleared her throat. "Tell me about her," she said with forced lightness. "Is she pretty?"
"If you remember what her mom looks like, she looks a lot like her."
Another long silence.
"Quiet, beautiful smile, long blonde hair? Little bitty thing?" she asked, at last.
"Yeah." He frowned at the strain in her voice. What was wrong with her?
"That's wonderful, Gil. I'm happy for you."
"Just wanted you to know," he said. She sure didn't sound happy. "You and Dad move out of the apartment?" he asked, changing the subject.
"Yes. Didn't Gramps tell you?"
"No." It must've happened while he was in jail.
"Well, you know that kid that did a tv series with the dog when you were growing up?"
"I remember the dog."
"Well, the kid grew up and bought a ranch in Sun Valley. Dad's managing it for him."
"I'll bet he loves that," he said dryly.
"He can keep his last roping horse and the dogs out here."
"And make you live in hell about it."
"He does better here than he did in town."
"Yeah, I'll bet," he said bitterly. He didn't have to be there to know how things were going. "You heard from Dee?"
"She's coming home for Christmas."
"You'll like that."
"I will. She says she's got a nice boyfriend. Marty. His family farms somewhere in Alberta."
A pickup pulled into a parking space by the phone, blinding him with the glare from its headlights.
"Gotta go, Mama," he said. "Somebody needs the phone."
"Are you happy out there, Gil?"
"Yeah, I am. Gramps has been good for me."
"Are you going to church with him?"
"Yeah."
"I'm so glad," she said, real happiness finally in her tone. "Your gramps is a good man. I wish I could see him."
"Come out here, then."
"I can't really…leave your dad right now."
His jaw tightened. "Mama—"
"I love you, honey—" the false brightness entered her tone again—"tell…Katie I'll look forward to meeting her."
He hung up the phone then got into his pickup to sit motionless and frowning.
What was wrong with everybody?
***
Sunday morning, Katie's blonde hair shone from a pew full of girls, but with an empty space beside her. Gil squeezed down the row and sat between another girl and her. She smiled shyly at him.
He grinned at her, and then glancing up, he met her dad's gaze leveled on him from two pews forward. He sobered at the warning in the older man's stare.
He turned away, only to meet his grandfather's unhappy look from the elders' bench at the front. He irritably dropped his gaze.
Anybody might think he was a stray dog getting ready to lift his leg on the pulpit, or something.
Leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, he stared down at Katie's feet, pretty in a pair of high heeled shoes. Lance's gaze bored into his back from the unattached males' pew and collective disapproval from the congregation smothered him like a blanket of dust.
He glanced at Katie. Color flooded her smooth cheeks and her chin had a stubborn set—she felt it too. The whole church thing was really going to stink. If he hadn't already told her he'd attend with her…
But her deep blue eyes defied public opinion and she moved her hand to the seat between them, easing it over to touch his thigh with the tips of her fingers. His heartbeat quickened as he shifted his leg slightly to cover her fingers. The light contact spread through him like warm oil…and held him there beside her.
***
Throughout the next days, his grandfather's Poppin' Johnny bucked and pitched over the rough pasture by the creek, breaking out the ground with an old two-bottom plow. Volcanic boulders—black lava, riddled with holes, and hard as iron—littered the field, often too big for the plow to turn out of the ground. When that happened, Gil got off the tractor and broke up the boulder with a sledgehammer, wedge, and an iron bar, while his grandfather loaded the broken pieces into his old pickup.
He frequently lost patience with the slow process and hurled the heavy hammer like a discus across the freshly turned soil. His recent attempts to reform his vocabulary had left him without many of his staple words and phrases, and he groped about in his mind for something mild to relieve his frustration. When he found nothing, he gave an inarticulate roar and sent his hat winging after the
hammer like an ungainly, black bird.
"Son," his grandfather said, finally, eyeing him, "we'd get more done if we didn't have to stop ever few minutes for you to throw a fit."
He brought the sledgehammer down on a boulder that seemed half as big as a horse. "I hate farmin'," he grunted. "If you can't do somethin' off the back of a horse it probably don't need done."
"We don't have to do this if it ain't what you want," the old man said mildly.
"We've got to have more hay if we're gonna run more cows, and—" he glanced at his grandfather—"I might get married one of these days. I gotta start makin' a decent livin'."
His grandfather didn't reply, but his eyes held the disapproving and faintly worried look. So irritating.
He turned away and lifted the hammer over his head. Well, if Katie wanted him—he gritted his teeth and drove the sledgehammer down with all the force he could muster—he didn't give a rat's…er…rear who didn't like it.
***
The next Wednesday evening brought an early end to another maddening day with the plow. He arrived at church early to ensure a seat at the far end of the pew—if Katie wanted to touch him, she only had to watch that the girl on the other side of her not see it.
Not only did she touch him, she slid a folded piece of paper beneath his leg. After the service, he walked her to her father's car—keeping his hands to himself—and then slid into his truck to hold the paper to the light from the street lamp.
Since you can't call me, will you write?
Saturday afternoon, he bought the only spiral-bound notebook on the dusty shelf at the general store. That night, he sat on his bed with it opened on his leg, frowning.
He'd always gotten girls into trouble, not tried to keep them out of it. The note thing worried him. Besides, he'd never written notes to a girl…at least not since second grade. He filled the trash can beside his bed with wadded pages before he settled on one.
Katie, I'm sorry I got you in trouble, I really am. I don't want to get you in deeper by writing notes to you. Your dad might not even let you sit by me in church. Maybe if I show him I'm serious about this he'll cool down and we can be together…
The Cedar Tree (Love Is Not Enough) Page 12
