My father always worried about government agents sneaking up on him, trying to catch him doing something wrong. Part of the reason for this was the simple fact that he was always doing something wrong. He maintained that the good Lord provided the fish, the animals, and the birds, so why did he need a licence to fish and hunt? So he never, ever, got one.
He also maintained that the good Lord provided the crops of the field for us to eat and if he chose to cook those crops in a way that permitted him to drink it then that was between him and the Lord. The sheriff, on the other hand, would spout nonsense about bootlegging and moonshine, but my father ignored that.
One thing my father did do was arrange it so that it was hard to sneak up on our cabin. One could see quite a way down the track that led to our place and anyone coming to see us had to use the track. The woods to either side of that track were just too much of a tangled mess for anything to get through.
That's why it was that I was able to see that we were getting a visitor long before he reached us. I'd been out gathering the eggs from the henhouse and when I glanced down the track I saw someone heading our way. I put the eggs away, checked to ensure that nothing that shouldn't be in sight was in sight, and went and lounged against the wall next to the front door, watching the approaching visitor.
I knew him, even if I wasn't sure exactly which him he was, but his whole mode of walking and his general silhouette were familiar. Then he got close enough for me to tell and I said a rude word or two under my breath. Deciding that wasn't enough I said a few more rude words out loud and very expressively.
It seemed Theo was coming to call. Have you ever heard of the term bete noir? It means a monstrous abomination that is a perversion of nature. Something that should have been put down when it was born. That was Theo.
He was older than me, twenty one to my eighteen. His abhorrent nature was hidden by a graceful, well-muscled, figure, a handsome face, and a scintillating smile. His twinkling blue eyes also helped to hide the fiend inside. He also appeared to be universally popular, with me being the sole exception to the public acclaim. (Not quite the sole exception, I have to admit, but the only other people who didn't seem to like him were certain low-lifes that I didn't even acknowledge as fully human.)
I waited until he had almost reached me before I spoke up.
"Theo," I said, reluctantly admitting that I knew him. "My father's not here. He's down at the lake, but not fishing as he hasn't got a licence."
"Sally," he said, flashing that charming smile at me. "I know that he's down at the lake. I saw him there, feeding the fish. Nothing illegal about feeding a worm to a fish he told me."
"Oh. My mother isn't here either. She's gone to town and won't be back until this afternoon sometime."
"I know that, too. She's with my mother. They're having lunch together."
"Then why on earth are you here. If you're hoping for some free moonshine while my father is away you're out of luck. He doesn't make it anymore."
"Really? That's odd. He told me he sold a gallon to some tourists who came by wanting the genuine stuff. Told me how much he got for it, too."
"That was old stuff. It's all gone now."
"He also told me that he'll have a new batch tomorrow if I wanted some. I turned him down. That stuff's just a little too potent for my peace of mind."
"If you don't want my parents and you don't want moonshine then why are you here?"
"I'm here to see you, of course."
I was stunned, to put it mildly. Here to see me? He had to be freaking joking.
"Why are you here to see me?" I demanded. Then I held up a hand to stop him saying anything. "It doesn't matter. You've seen me. Now you can go away again."
"It's because your father asked me to help you out. He's worried about the Baxter boys. He says they're hanging around you and he doesn't trust them, not a solitary inch. I assured him that he was worried about nothing because you didn't care for the Baxter boys in any manner, shape, or form, but still he worries."
Those low-lifes I mentioned earlier -- those would be the Baxter boys, the dregs of the human race. Baboons are smarter than them and somewhat more handsome.
"The Baxters? He's got to be kidding. If one of them even dared to lay a finger on me I'd snap it off and stuff it up his nose. I don't even talk to them."
"I know," Theo said enthusiastically, and with great sincerity. "I told your father that but you know he's like when he gets an idea set in his skull. You couldn't pry that idea loose with a crowbar. Fortunately I was able to come up with an idea that calmed him down. One that he thinks will make the Baxter's back off."
I looked at him suspiciously. Any idea he had was sure to make my life more difficult.
"What did you do?" I demanded.
"Have a little faith in me," Theo chided. "Do you hear how suspicious you sound? How mean-spirited?"
"What did you do?" I repeated.
"I simply suggested to him that if the Baxters think I'm interested in you then they'll back away. They won't want to cross me, now will they? They might chance your father's shotgun, but they'll make a determined effort to avoid offending me so I'll be your protector."
"We don't have a shotgun," I said automatically. "We don't have a hunting license so we don't go hunting."
"No shotgun? I wonder why he had that box of shells in his truck. Still, never mind. What do you think of my idea?"
