The man turned and Luke nearly jumped back in surprise. He couldn’t be sure of his age, but two things were glaringly obvious. He had Down syndrome. And a big, nasty black eye.
Luke stayed out of sight. He didn’t want to frighten him.
An hour later he was leaving the house for an early-evening beer at Jack’s and as he went down the driveway to the road, he saw the door to cabin six slowly swing closed. The farthest cabin from the house.
So. He had a tenant.
Luke had been putting in some real long, solitary days. Nothing was going to fix him up better than a cold beer and a little company. When he walked in, Jack welcomed him like an old friend. “Hey, man. Haven’t seen much of you lately. How’s it going?”
“Dirty and ugly.” Luke grinned. “But I’m making incredible progress.”
“Beer?”
“Oh yeah. What’s Preacher got cooking tonight?” Luke asked.
“He’s got some venison stew going back there,” Jack said. “It’s about the best I’ve ever tasted. You staying for dinner?”
“I’m going to have to now,” Luke said.
By the time Luke was halfway through his beer, Paul walked in, still dirty in his work clothes. He looked down at one upturned boot and walked back outside. The banging that could be heard in the bar was Paul kicking the porch steps, knocking the dried mud off his boots. Then he was back, up on a stool beside Luke.
“How you doing, Luke?” Paul asked.
“Pretty good. I was planning to give you a call. Can I get you to send someone out to look at a couple of things? I need to have a professional examine the roofing on the house and cabins and check wiring for me.”
“Be glad to. In fact, I’ll do it myself. Jack,” he said, lifting a finger. A cold beer instantly appeared in front of him. “How’s tomorrow afternoon? Say, around five, when I’m wrapping it up out at the houses and we still have light?”
“Perfect.” Luke glanced over his shoulder a couple of times. He hadn’t seen her in too long. He hoped she’d stay away, prayed she’d be there soon. “You staying for dinner?” he asked Paul.
“Nah,” he said, taking a deep drink. “A beautiful redhead’s cooking for me tonight. And if there’s a God, the general has other plans.”
The bar filled up, some neighbors, a few fishermen and a small gang of young hunters wandered in. Luke had a second beer, opting to wait on the stew a while, and then it happened. She finally came in. He had just about convinced himself he was going to escape temptation tonight. But no, it was going to be worse than usual. Tight jeans, silky blouse under a denim vest, all that hair unbound and flowing free, begging to be crumpled up in his hands.
She came right up to the bar. Paul dropped an arm around her shoulders immediately. “What’s up, kiddo?”
“Not so much,” she said. “Hey, Luke.”
“Hey, yourself,” Luke said.
“Getting any better out at your cabins?” Shelby asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “A lot better.”
“I’m heading home,” Paul said, draining his beer. “Coming home for dinner?” he asked Shelby.
“Uncle Walt’s out for the evening,” she said. “Why don’t I have dinner right here. Luke looks lonely,” she said with an impish smile. “I’ll be home later.”
Paul kissed her forehead and said, “God bless you. And God bless Muriel.” And he was gone so fast it made Shelby laugh.
“Do you think he could be any more obvious?” she asked Luke.
“Muriel?” Luke asked.
“A beautiful neighbor lady moved in, right across the pasture. Uncle Walt’s been tied up a lot of evenings ever since.”
“Really?” Luke asked, eyes widening slightly. The general was into a woman?
She leaned her elbow on the bar, her head against her hand. “You don’t mind a little company, do you?”
“Actually, I think I’m going to have to shove off…”
Then Jack was standing in front of them, obviously hearing that last comment. “I thought you were staying for dinner? Beer, Shelby?”
“Thanks,” she said. When the beer was delivered and Jack gone again, she said, “You were going to stay till I got here? That’s not very flattering.”
A little embarrassed, he said, “I guess I could manage dinner.”
“Don’t put yourself out,” she said. “I can find someone to have dinner with.”