Cut and Run 2 - Sticks and Stones

stomach growl. “Oh Lord. Fresh-baked bread.”
    Ty sniffed at the air as he tromped through the house toward the back, where the dining room opened up into a large kitchen. “Morning,” he greeted as he stepped into the kitchen.
    The woman at the stove turned and smiled widely. Ty went over to her and hugged her close, kissing her on the cheek as she patted his back without letting go of the spatula in her hand. She was a tall woman, the top of her head hitting past Ty’s broad shoulders, and her round face was almost devoid of wrinkles until she smiled. Her graying hair had once been the same color as Ty’s, and her eyes were a bright, striking green.
    She stepped back from Ty and took his face in her hands, the spatula smacking against his temple. “’Bout time you got here,” she said to him. She looked over Ty’s shoulder at Zane and smiled again. “You must be Zane,” she said as she unceremoniously pushed Ty aside. She went up to Zane and pulled him into a hug as well, just like he was another son she hadn’t seen in some time.
    Zane’s eyes widened in surprise, and after a beat he halfway closed his arms around her, not sure what to do. “Uh. Hi,” he said weakly, patting her shoulder gently.
    “Zane Garrett, Mara Grady,” Ty introduced with a smirk as he met Zane’s eyes.
    “Nice to meet you,” Zane said as she patted his back, oblivious to his discomfort. Then she turned away and bopped Ty in the head with her spatula.
    “Ow!” Ty protested with a surprised laugh.
    “Shoulda been home months ago,” she scolded. “Sit down, Zane dear, breakfast is almost ready,” she said in a much sweeter voice.
    Zane swallowed a laugh, although he didn’t even try to hide his smile. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, pulling out a chair on the far side of the table next to the wall so he’d be out of the way.
    Ty sat down opposite him, grumbling. “You got bacon grease in my hair,” he said to his mother as he rubbed at his head.
    “Serves you right,” Mara responded. She tossed the spatula into the sink and fished out another from a nearby drawer.
    Deuce sat next to Zane and plopped an empty glass in front of each of them, snickering softly and avoiding meeting his brother’s eyes.
    “Where’s Dad?” Ty asked as he made a rude gesture at Deuce. Zane could feel his smile grow wider.
    “Went up to the mine early this morning; someone called about some kids messing with the gates,” Deuce answered. At the mention of the mine, Ty tensed visibly, and he nodded and looked toward the back door uncomfortably.
    “If he’s gone much longer,” his mother said to them, “I want you boys to go fetch him.”
    “Yes, ma’am,” both brothers answered in automatic response. Zane had seen Ty snap to attention for Dick Burns before. He’d always assumed it was some latent response from his military training. But it clearly went back further than that.
    He also noticed Ty’s reaction to hearing about the mine, and he remembered what little Ty had told him about growing up here. Ty had always been scared of the mines, afraid of something happening to his father while he was there, and terrified of being trapped in them himself. After his experience in New York and being buried in a dark hole where he thought he’d never see light again, the thought of going into those mines now had to be outright terrifying. Zane had to admit Ty hid it well.
    Mara set down a platter overflowing with biscuits, warm slices of fresh bread, bacon, and sausage links. Then she set down a bowl of grits, two jars of what looked like homemade jam, and two pitchers of orange juice. Last came a bowl full of scrambled eggs.
    She tapped Ty in the back of the head as he reached for a piece of bacon. “Manners,” she reminded as she wiped her hands on her apron before beginning to untie it. “You go ahead and load up, Zane, you’re going to need a full stomach to deal with these two all day,” Mara advised.
    Zane nodded but stood up. “I need to take a quick break first. We didn’t stop much during the drive,” he explained.
    “Out that door and first tree to the left,” Deuce told him as he pointed at the back door.
    “Put a sock in it, Deacon,” Mara scolded. “It’s the door under the stairs, dear,” she told Zane as she sat at the head of the table.
    As he walked out of the kitchen in the direction she’d pointed, Zane got a better glimpse of the rest of the house. It was a typical old farmhouse with scuffed