The Defiant Duchess
Page 22
“Of course, you weren’t all perfect—”
“Teddie—”
“Especially when you executed one of your council members without a trial.”
“Now, I had my reasons—” Dickie tried to defend himself.
“But those were certainly brutal times. Yet even taking that into account, the Tudors were an extremely harsh ruling family. I know I have no desire to ever befriend a single one of them.”
Dickie realized that was saying a lot, coming from amiable Teddie, who practically knew everyone in heaven. “I detest the Tudors, also, but I think we should discuss this battle for now.”
“Oh, yes. Where was I? Anyways, Lafayette has suggested an alliance between the Americans and the French again, and I believe the Americans are considering it favorably. I wasn’t sure if a coalition force was against club rules so I was glad to see you reappear. But then, while you were just having your discussion with God, another issue has arisen.”
“What’s that?”
“Richard the Lion and Saladin are suggesting a détente and negotiations to bring about a peaceful ending to the conflict—where everyone can consider themselves winners.”
Dickie staggered a few feet. “Let me get this straight. My great-great-great-uncle or something, one of the bravest and most successful warriors to have ever existed—”
“Oh, that Saladin is no slouch, either. Did you know that he conquered all the territory from—”
Dickie just talked over him this time. “—is suggesting a compromise? A conciliation? A—”
“It’s not all that surprising, Dickie. Haven’t you ever noticed how the fiercest of warriors—the men who have experienced the worst of fighting—are often the ones most strongly in favor of diplomatic solutions? I just wasn’t sure if that also was against club rules.”
Dickie considered a moment. “No rules were even set in regards to alliances and peace negotiations. But what about all the bets that were placed on this battle?”
“Your brother Eddie has that situation in control. He’s had the men cheerily drinking and playing poker for hours—especially Genghis. He says he can just give the money back to those that want it. I mean we are in heavenly paradise already—who really requires more?”
“But what will this do about any future mock battles?”
“There will always be those who want to fight. Don’t you think? We Homo sapiens seem to be wired to do so. Do you realize how many large animals in the world have gradually become extinct since sapiens came into existence? We sapiens must be the most cunning—”
“Teddie—”
“—the most hateful—”
“Teddie—”
“—the most vicious creatures on the planet.”
“Just tell everyone that they can negotiate a peaceful ending if they want.”
Dickie then began wandering towards his brother Eddie—perhaps life should be a merry party—at least a good portion of the time.
Chapter Thirty-one
Thanksgiving
Wyoming
Mags woke with a start. She had been napping again in her favorite position—her head resting on Charlie’s lap while her legs sprawled over the rest of the couch—on her side, naturally, now that her belly was getting bigger. Charlie looked at her fondly a moment and Mags gazed back, smiling. She loved him so.
“Dickie has the meal in complete control, Mags. You can sleep more if you want. You don’t have to take charge of every little thing on this property.” Charlie then took a sip of his beer and resumed watching the football game intently. Of course, Charlie could say that since he didn’t take responsibility for scarcely anything concerning the ranch—which Mags did not mind. Charlie was busy enough with his new nearby car dealership.
Mags came to a sitting position and looked around. Dickie was in the kitchen, basting the bird. Charlena had obviously set the table already and was now filling a vase with flowers.
Next year, Charlena wanted to have an even bigger family gathering than was now here, including Aunt Elle, all of Charlie’s family, and the grandparents. She was planning on building more guest houses.
Clarence, Lindsey and Ned were at the counter, chopping and peeling potatoes and sipping wine. The bison were arriving in the near future. They were discussing how best to promote their ranch.
She looked out the window. Waldemar was playing ball with Georgie, Maggie and Richie.
“Charlie, where are Cody and Bridget?”
“Out ‘hiking.’” He made smirking quotations with his hands.
“And the twins?”
“Cicely and Edmund were getting cranky. Charlena put them down for a nap. Go to sleep. I know you want to. I’ll wake you when the Seal show comes on.”
Mags frowned slightly. Since carrying this baby all she wanted to do was take naps. She wondered if she would ever again make it through a day without dozing.
“But how long until the finale comes on?” The producer husband of Aunt Elle had decided to show the series all in the same week, and each evening the group had gathered around the television.
“Soon. We’re in the last quarter of this game.”
“Then I’ll stay awake.” The plan was for everyone to eat their feast after the show. But Mags knew the kids would not bother watching. Georgie, Maggie and Richie had already had their fill on the first episode, claiming nothing could beat Clarence having to run to the bathroom—they had absolutely squealed with laughter.
After a few more minutes, Charlie exclaimed, “That’s it. Game over.” He turned around. “Showtime, everyone.”
Dickie was becoming more disturbed by the minute. He had not realized how close the standings had become between Clarence and him and the jackasses.
The first evening, with all the cameras everywhere, he had finally learned the origin of all the pet names—oooh, Double R had stood for RichRich. He had also proudly confirmed that he had been the only one Rooter had not lowered with an obnoxious calling—though being a RichRich was probably not that bad.
By the third episode, he had insisted Ned tell him more about the SAS. Ned had claimed, “It’s definitely a compliment, Dickie, to have been considered one.”
So, just as he had thought. His military prowess had been envied.
But now he recognized by watching this episode that all these honors would be for naught if he couldn’t beat a pair of jackasses.
The show had just revealed how Dickie had hauled Rooter to their surveillance position. Clarence was doing his dramatic scene of getting hit.
But the show was also flashing views of the warrior team in entirety, bringing back Bongo. And Bongo was congratulating them.
So where was W?
Yes! Yes! Yes! W was now becoming a goner so neither of the jackasses succeeded in bringing back a hostage so that meant that . . .
The final standings were announced. The warrior team first, their team next, the jackasses third.
Clarence jumped up and started doing a jig in the living room. “We did it, Dickie. We did it.”
He pulled Dickie to a stand and started dancing with him.
“Wait,” Ned exclaimed. “There’s a bit more. It’s a ‘Where are they now?’”
A picture showed of Red, then beneath it a line stated that Red had been invited to try for the real Seals again.
T came next. T was working for a private security firm now.
And the stupid trainers were still trainers for celebrities.
Clarence was then shown “living life large,” relaxing by his pool at home.
But for Dickie the line only read, “Whereabouts Unknown.”
Clarence broke into a guffaw. “They’re making it seem as if you are actually someone special with incredible military skills.”
Ned grinned. “He is that, cuz.”
Dickie could only smile.
Readers,
The inspiration to dedicate this book to my mother, an artist, came to me when I was writing about the famous pai
nters of this particular medieval time period. Then it occurred to me how my mother was similar to Mags in some respects. But since Mags was so wonderfully complex, I imagine that others can relate to her also.
Dickie has been nothing but fun to write about, and I found I was sorry to end his story. I think what was most entertaining for me was that he did not live by the usual boundaries and limitations people set for themselves. This character thought he was capable of doing anything. If only we could all be so bold.
My next novel will return to the Colorado frontier. I am busily reading about turn-of-the-century events. Yikes, those nineteenth-century folks thought nothing of doing what they wanted to the environment. Slaughter animals into extinction, cut down a billion trees, divert major waterways . . . uh, I guess we haven’t learned much in some regards.
Here’s to hoping our children do better.
As always, I appreciate you leaving a review of this novel here. I love reading your comments. Yes, even the persnickety ones. What surer way is there to find out about all my foibles?
All the best,
Kari
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