Redwood Bend

the bathroom floor and dug her fingers into her hair. Oh, God, what in the world did I do to piss You off? Was it that no sex before marriage thing? It would be a more practical and effective lesson to have me eaten by a bear!
And she heard noises. Squeaking. Jingling of chains. The play set. She got to her feet and ran to the kitchen window. Yes, they were back. Not playing on the jungle gym, but merely cutting across her clearing—Mom and the triplets. As if they owned the place.
Katie lunged for her air horn and ran right onto the porch, fearless. She blasted the horn and watched as they turned as one to look at her. “Get out of here,” she screamed, giving the horn another long blast. “I am in NO mood!” And after an insulted grunt from Mother, they scuttled off into the brush.
Jack was just putting up clean glasses in the middle of the afternoon when the door to the bar opened. He looked up, half expecting his wife, who often took advantage of the quiet time before the dinner crowd showed up. But it was not Mel—it was the welcome face of a man he hadn’t seen in some time. “I’ll be damned,” he said with a big grin. He came around the bar and approached a young man, about thirty years old, and pulled him into a fierce hug, hammering his back with a fist. Then he held him away and said, “Hey, Tom! You home on leave?”
“I’m out,” Tom Cavanaugh said. “Six was enough for me. And my grandmother either has my help with the orchard or sells it. I vote for helping her. That orchard’s been in the family a long time.”
“How is Maxie?” Jack asked.
“Stubborn as ever, but as near as I can tell, tougher and healthier than you or me.”
“I haven’t seen you in a couple of years,” Jack pointed out.
“I deployed a second time—I think that was the convincer. Plus, I never made it any secret, I was made to take care of apples. It’s what I was raised to do.”
“And we couldn’t be happier about that. Let me find Preacher, he’ll want to say hello.”
Tom Cavanaugh grew up in Virgin River and had been a college student when Jack first arrived in town. It not only became a great refuge for him on his weekend and holiday visits home to Virgin River, but with his own plans to spend at least a few years in the military after college, he bonded with Jack and Preacher. Now at around thirty he was home for good, ready to take over the family business with his grandmother. Cavanaugh Apples.
He was halfway through his beer when Katie came into the bar.
“Well now,” Jack said. “Look who’s here. Katie Malone, meet one of the neighbors—Tom Cavanaugh. Tom just exited the Marine Corps and is home for good. Tom, Katie is new in town.”
“It’s definitely a pleasure,” Tom said, his eyes lighting up a bit as he looked at her.
“Likewise,” she said, putting out a hand.
“Glass of wine?” Jack asked.
“No, thanks, I’ll be picking up the boys in fifteen minutes. So, Tom, you live here in town?”
“No, out about three miles down the mountain. I grew up on an apple orchard and that’s where I’m probably going to be for the rest of my life.”
“You say that with a smile,” she observed.
“I like apples.”
“Tommy here was raised on ’em,” Jack said.
“Cavanaugh apples make some of my best pies,” Preacher put in.
“So, you’re looking a little better, missy,” Jack said. “Got a little color in your cheeks.”
“No surprise there,” she said. “Remember that bear? She’s been back and she acts like I’m renting space from her. I need a gun.”
“What bear?” Tom asked.
“A mother bear with triplets. They like my boys’ jungle gym.”
“Hmm,” Tom said. “I’ve seen her a couple of times. She’s been in the orchard, poking around, and she’s not a happy mother…”
“I have twin boys. I feel her pain. I think I need a gun.”
“Katie, it takes a lot of gun to stop a bear her size. Can you handle a rifle?”
“That’s one thing I haven’t gotten around to, but I’ve got a permit for a handgun. Not that I have a handgun—not to be redundant, but twin boys… I did buy myself a really awful air horn—she hated that. But she took her kids out of my yard. After she made a noise that sounded as near to a growl as it could be. I don’t think we’re friends.”
“I’ll call Fish and Game,” Tom said. “That little lady might have to be dealt with. Maybe relocated if she’s going to be trouble. I’d hate for her to get shot.”
“On the other