Beneath the Tombstone (The Tombstone Series) (5 page)

Jason
leapt to his feet and sprang into action, only a few steps behind his wife. He
had to get ahead of her. She’d grown up on a farm and survived wild animals and
two rowdy brothers. No telling what she’d do to that poor man if she caught
him. On the lower level, several would-be rescuers jumped up and tried to catch
the pretend thief as he darted between their tables. Thankfully, they all went
down without achieving their objective, tangled in the tables, chairs and one
another.

Misty
darted around the cluster of men and chairs, but Jason leapt over the top, putting
himself in the lead. Reaching the fence that surrounded the lower level, he
hurdled it and raced along the River Walk. “Wait here! It’s not safe!” he
yelled back to Misty as he ran.

Not
waiting to hear her response, he raced under a bridge that spanned the river
and pursued the purse-snatcher along the water’s edge. The pathway did a wide
U-turn at the headwaters of the River Walk, looping around and heading back the
other direction. Instead of following it, the thief went straight, charging up
a grassy embankment and across a street. Reaching the opposite sidewalk, he
raced along it, charging past several gift shops and startled tourist. After
chasing his accomplice for several blocks, Jason saw him pause for a moment and
look back before disappearing into a dark alley. Jogging over to the entrance
of the back street, Jason came to an abrupt halt. Waltzing into a dark alley at
night was not on his list of heroic things he planned to do. What he’d asked
the doctor for was some good, clean, safe danger… This wasn’t it.

“Yep,”
Jason heard a voice beside him state. “I’d say you’re right. That’s an alley.”
Jason turned and saw a man standing by his side, staring down into the dark
side-street. There was a witty grin on his lips and a gleam in his eye. “
Y’all
got alley’s back where you come from?” he asked,
looking over at Jason.

“Uh,
yeah, yeah,” Jason stammered. “I was just meeting someone here.” He looked
around. “I guess he’s not coming. Better go find him.” With that he marched off
into the alley.

The man
behind him gave a laugh before disappearing on down the sidewalk. Once the
antagonist was gone, Jason slowed down and began creeping his way along. Broken
glass lay scattered on the gravel, and dark, empty window frames stared blankly
at him. What a spooky place. There was an old blue dumpster sitting on one side
of the alley, at the far end of it. When Jason reached it, he noticed a pile of
old blankets, trash, and empty bottles all heaped up against its side. Turning,
he observed his surroundings. A chill ran up his spine. He had an eerie feeling
he was being watched.

Spooked,
Jason moved forward with a brisker pace, walking towards a backstreet that the
alley intersected into. As he rounded a building on the corner, he spotted his
accomplice. The man was standing faintly illuminated by a street lamp. Upon
seeing Jason, he gave a little nod, set the purse down then turned and walked
away, soon to be consumed by the darkness.

After
retrieving the purse, Jason walked back over towards the dumpster and stood for
a few moments at the mouth of the alley to plan his dramatic return. That’s
when it dawned on him – The thing about heroes is they rarely do a heroic act
without getting their clothes torn and dirty.

Now
directly in front of the dumpster, Jason lay down and began rolling around in
the grimy alley. The small amount of sweat he had managed to work up during his
run came in handy for creating a convincing costume. “A little dirt here and a
little dirt there,” he quietly mumbled to himself as he rubbed his shirt
against the oily, greasy surface of the asphalt.

After
taking care of the messy part, Jason remembered that no self-respecting hero
dared go home without at least a hole or two in his clothes, so he grabbed a piece
of glass off the ground and ripped a few holes in his pants and shirt. He
dropped the piece of glass and as he walked past the dumpster, headed back to
what he was sure would be the gracious arms of his wife, he stuck fingers from
both hands into the hole in his shirt. If he could widen it slightly, his
costume would be complete.

“Why!”
a drawn-out, disoriented voice behind Jason squalled.

Jason
whipped his right arm around to fend off the attack he thought was coming, and
in the process ripped the small hole in his shirt open from his chest all the
way down to his bellybutton. He tried to yell, but the only sound that came
from his mouth was just frightened gibberish. But he saw no attacker. The alley
seemed as desolate as before.

“Why’d
you
torin
’ your clothes up?” the voice asked, and
movement drew Jason’s attention to a whiskered, grungy man wrapped up in the
pile of trash beside the dumpster. He held a bottle in one hand and a rose in
the other.

“If
yooou
di'nt
like ‘
em
you
coa
‘
ave
put ‘
em
in the ‘
oor
‘ox. I
mean
tha
poor box,” the drunk said, laughing at his
own drunkenness.

Jason
just stared, unsure of what exactly to do. For a second or two, he wondered
what the man was doing sitting underneath a pile of trash. Did it fall on him?
Then it became clear; this man was homeless. That didn’t concern Jason too
much. What did concern him was the fact that the drunk had seen part of his
scheme going down. But, then again, what’s the chance of him remembering any of
it in the morning? – Slim to none… and even if he did remember, the chances of
it getting back to Misty were just as unlikely.

Finally,
Jason decided that he could do nothing but leave the drunk be and hope for the
best.  With that, he left the intoxicated man thumbing the stem of his
flower and singing a slurred song about lost and faded love.

Jason
jogged the entire way back to the restaurant just to ensure that his sweaty,
battered look was complete. He crossed back in front of the gift shops, made
his way across the street and down to the River Walk, Misty’s purse flopping at
his side. One more thing that he had not thought through was the tourists he
encountered along the way. Torn and dirty clothes… and carrying a purse – Jason
was getting some peculiar looks to say the least.

Sirens
rang in the distance as Jason crossed back under the bridge, beaten and
tattered yet victorious. The restaurant came into sight, and he saw his wife
waiting by the short, iron fence where he’d left her. When she caught sight of
him, a look of relief came to her face a few short moments before she rushed
through the gate, meeting him by the river where she wrapped her arms around
his chest. Jason hadn’t felt her hug him that tight in a long time.

With
a shaky voice, she demanded, “Why did you do that? It was just a purse. You
could’ve been hurt or killed.”

She
sounded angry. Jason couldn’t believe it. He was supposed to receive a
returning hero’s welcome… but instead he got a lecture. “Next time I’ll wear a
helmet,” he spoke in disbelief.

She
released him and wiped her eyes before giving a tiny laugh. Looking up, she
wrapped her arms around his neck and spoke softly. “I didn’t mean I’m not
grateful.” With that she tip-toed up and placed a warm kiss on his lips.

Jason
felt like he was floating on clouds. He leaned down, wrapping his arms around
her waist as his lips responded to hers.
This
was more like it.
This
was how a returning hero should be treated… to be showered with respect, love
and honor.  When their lips parted ways, Jason, with a huge grin, said,
“Let’s go pay the tab and get out of here before the cops show up.”

“Already
done,” Misty whispered, smiling back. Jason looked at her with admiration and a
bit of surprise. “The owner was about to have a cow because you ran off without
paying,” she explained, “and seeing as how we
ain’t
got no place for livestock, I went to the truck and got the checkbook and paid
with a check.”

“What
a woman,” Jason said with a smile before turning around and leading Misty back
along the water’s edge in the direction from which he’d just come. The night
was busy and parking limited, so they’d been forced to park several blocks
away. Reaching the gravel lot where they’d parked, Jason opened the driver’s
side door, allowing his little damsel-in-distress to jump in. She shoved all the
bills and other papers into the passenger floor, clearing herself a place to
sit in the middle seat (which had been vacant for quite some time now.)

Jason
grinned as he slid in next to her, slamming the door behind him. After cranking
the engine, he dropped the transmission into reverse and let the gravel fly.
Misty shrieked with excitement as they slid out backwards onto the two lane
highway. Dropping it in drive, he laid the gas-pedal down, and they left black
marks and the smell of burning rubber behind.

As
they headed home, Jason awed his wife with his tale of close call and daring
deed. She listened intently as he explained that what they originally thought
to be robbery he realized was a well-planned ambush after he entered the alley
and was surrounded by the thief and two other tough looking men.

“What’d
you do?” Misty gasped, captivated by the story.

Jason
went on to explain how that he, being a man of action, didn’t bother with small
talk or introductions but, instead, crashed into the first man sending him
flying into the second. Their heads smacked together and they fell to the
ground stunned.

“What’d
the third one do?” Misty demanded, her eyes wide, completely consumed by the
unfolding drama.

“The
smart thing,” Jason bragged. “Dropped your purse and ran.” Misty looked
relieved, as if she’d just witnessed the conflict and its resolve. Prompted by
her attentive listing, Jason continued his yarn. “As for the other two, after
they staggered back to their feet… well, let’s just say that they did the smart
thing, too.”

“Yeah,
you don’t
wanna
mess with my man,” Misty said,
possessively rubbing and massaging his shoulder and bicep. Then she stopped as
a look of awareness dawned on her face. “Well then how’d you get all dirty and
torn up?” she asked, directing her attention to the enormous, gaping hole in
the front of his shirt.

“From
the fight,” Jason replied, like she should have known that.

“But
you never even hit the ground,” she pointed out.

“Oh,
um…” That stumped him for a moment. Misty was a beautiful woman, but sometimes
he wished she could’ve been dumb to boot. “Well, you know how it is in a
fight,” he spoke slowly, grasping for straws, “everything happened so fast…
When I smacked them two fella’s heads together, I think I may have fallen
down.” Jason knew that the explanation didn’t merit the destruction he had
wrought upon his clothing and certainly not the huge hole in the front of his
shirt, but it seemed to satisfy her curiosity. She nodded in understanding
before going back to fussing over him.

- - - - - -

Later
that night, Jason and Misty kissed on their front porch, just like old times.
He felt loved and special, like a hero should, once more. Motivated by the
image he’d created of himself, he swept her off of her feet and wacked her head
on the door jamb as he tried to carry her across the threshold.

Thankfully,
smacking her head seemed to strike Misty as funny because she burst into
laughter. At first Jason was afraid he’d knocked her silly but then decided
that couldn’t be the case. She was too hard headed. Soon, her laugher became
contagious, bubbling over to him. In the end, they both wound up sitting in the
floor, laughing uncontrollably. Finally, after their laughter had died down
into occasional chuckles, Jason turned, reached up, and shut and locked the
door.

The
old adobe style house stood resilient against the test of time, its years
masked by the fact that it had been taken care of and maintained very well.
Wooden shutters framing the windows and a wood porch with pine support post
stood out in a unique contrast to the adobe structure. Jason wasn’t sure what
they were, but some sort of native cactus with purple flowers bloomed in front
of the dwelling, one plant on each side of the porch steps.

“Susan
sure has kept Granny’s old place up, hasn’t she?” Misty asked as she and Jason
walked side by side up the front steps.

“Yep,”
Jason said, observing the house. “The porch looks the best… especially the
boards that I screwed down,” he added with a touch of pretend arrogance.

“Oh,
we had to replace those two,” Misty fired back, her eyes dancing with mischief.

Jason
kicked back his head and laughed. “You know, if you weren’t so pretty, I might
take offense to that.”

Misty
cast a flirtatious look up at him. “Well then, it’s a good thing I’m pretty,
isn’t it?”

“Yep,”
Jason replied then grinned at her. “I’ve always liked that about you.”

As
they opened the front door a familiar voice yelled, “Uncle Jason!”

“Hey
Ken,” Jason said, grinning down at the boy who came running across the room
towards him.

“It’s
my birthday. What’d you bring me?” his nephew asked, sliding to a stop with a
huge smile on his face.

“Your
birthday?” Jason asked, sounding puzzled. “No one told me it was your birthday,”
he added, revealing his empty hands. His nephew’s smile vanished. It was
replaced with a look of disbelief.

“Now,
be nice,” Misty scolded, standing beside her husband.

Jason
turned to her and retrieved the present that she held out to him. “Really,” he
spoke to her, “no one told me it was his birthday,” he paused for a moment and
began to smile, “so I guess it’s a good thing I remembered,” he added, turning
back to Ken. “Surprise!” he shouted to the boy who looked very surprised indeed.

“A
present!” Ken yelled, his frown morphing back into a grin. “What is it?”

“A
pony!” his uncle replied with a teasing smile.

“A
pony?” the boy asked as he sized up the box wrapped in action figure wrapping
paper. “Well, put it on the table,” he said, the doubt of a pony’s ability to
fit into such a small space evident in his voice.

Ken
walked over with his uncle and watched as the gift was placed among the others.
“I sure do like birthdays. Don’t you, Uncle Jason?” the boy asked eagerly.

“Yep,”
Jason answered. “I sure do.” He leaned over to his nephew and whispered, “You
want to hear a little secret? I’m
gonna
be having a
birthday myself in another month or so.” Ken’s eyes brightened. The boy loved
talking birthdays.

Jason
looked around the room. There were quite a few boys that looked to be about
Ken’s age and a girl who appeared to be a few years older. That seemed a little
strange. She appeared to feel a bit out of place and awkward.

He
turned to Ken to ask who she was, but the boy was no longer with him… not in mind,
anyways. What was he staring at? Jason followed his nephew’s gaze and it lead
to a little girl walking towards the other kids. Jason’s eyebrows arched in
surprise. It was the cute little girl from Ken’s baseball game.

A
broad smile came to Jason’s face as he leaned over to Ken and whispered, “How’d
you manage to pull that off?”

It
would appear that Ken was over his denial of the fact that he liked the little
girl because he didn’t fain innocence or say “huh” but quietly explained, “I
asked her.”

“And she
came?” Jason questioned. “Just as simple as that?” The surprise was evident in
his voice. No matter how calm Ken was acting about it now, if he knew the boy
at all, asking her to his party was one of the hardest things he’d ever done.

“No
sir, she had to ask her family first,” Ken explained. “They said only if her
older sister came, too. She said she’d do it for five bucks.” He paused for a
moment and gave a slightly distressed sigh as he added, “I sure hope I get me
some money in one of them cards.”

Jason
barely managed to contain his laughter. It seemed that he wasn’t the only one
willing to do a little underhanded scheming for the sake of the little lady in
his life.

An
idea popped into Jason’s head. Leaving the boy standing by his gifts, he headed
over towards Misty who stood over in a corner talking to her sister, Susan.
Unfortunately for Jason, their mother was also in on the conversation. How
wonderful. As he drew near, he overheard Misty regaling the tale of his daring
deed. “…and he sent the first one flying into the second one – knocked their
heads together and they both went out like a light.”

Jason
was just a little bit offended by the look of amazement on his
sister-in-laws
face but even more so by his
mother-in-laws
words. “I find that hard to believe,” she
spoke with contempt, her back to him. “Jason is…”

“right
behind you,” he interrupted, curving her sentence to a different finish.

His
mother-in-law turned around. “Jason,” she spoke in surprise. “I didn’t know you
were there. I was just, um…” Her voice trailed off.

“It’s
okay, Grace,” Jason said with a dry smile. “I know how you feel about me.”
Leaving no time for a response, he turned to Misty. “Hey babe,” he said calmly,
“can I talk to you for a second?”

“Sure,”
Misty replied sweetly. “I’ll be right back,” she told her sister before
following Jason a few steps away for some privacy.

As
soon as they were out of earshot, Misty turned to Jason with a concerned look
on her face. “Sorry about mom,” she spoke apologetically.

“Ah,
it’s okay,” he replied. “I’ve come to expect no less from her.”

Misty
gave him a look that said she was still sorry then asked, “So what’d you need,
babe?”

“Five
dollars, if you’ve got it,” he responded quickly.

“I
do,” she answered with a questioning look in her eye. “What’s it for?”

Jason
really didn’t want to tell her. He was afraid it would get back to Susan that
her little boy was spending money he didn’t have to get a girl to come to his
house – Probably wouldn’t look too good for Ken. “Can you just let me have it please?”
he sighed. “I’ll pay you back.”

“Jason,
my money is your money,” Misty said, smiling sweetly up at him.  “It’s our
money,” she added as she handed him a five dollar bill from her purse. “I was
just curious.”

Jason
sighed again, a bit of a grin forming on his lips. “I’m going to put it in
Ken’s card,” he confessed, plucking the money from her hand.

“Why?”
Misty asked, surprised.

“I’ll
explain later,” he promised.

After
the pack of wild, crazy children terrorized the house for quite some time,
Susan gathered them all together in the living room. “You want to open presents
or eat cake first?” she asked Ken.

“Presents!”
the boy exclaimed.

“Presents
it is then!” she responded, mirroring his excitement.

Jason
selected a good vantage point where he could sit and watch the carnage unfold.
A small group of excited children gathered around the card table that held the
gifts and watched as Ken tore into them with a vengeance. The little girl stood
close by Ken, her eyes shining with delight.

Among
the first of the presents to be chosen was the one from Jason and Misty. As Ken
ripped it open, he found that, true to his word, Uncle Jason had gotten him a
pony. It was extremely small and plastic but it was still a pony. It even came
with a small cowboy to ride it. The gift from the boy’s mother was a revolver
cap-gun, equipped with a genuine plastic gun belt. The two sisters looked at
each other, their eyes showing that they were quiet happy that Ken was so
pleased with his toys. It was no accident that he wound up with a bunch of
cowboy gifts because, when asked what he wanted, “cowboy stuff” had been his
only request.

“Open
your cards, Ken,” his mother prompted after all the presents had been opened.

Everyone
had brought a present for Ken, so Jason figured the odds of his nephew getting
the five bucks he needed, without some intervention, were pretty slim.

A
hopeful look was on the boy’s face each time he opened a card… but, alas, each
time yielded the same result – no money. He would look at the card for a moment,
kindly pretending he cared who it was from before discarding it and reaching
for another one. Finally, he reached the last card, which was from Jason and
Misty. When he opened it, his eyes lit up. A bright smile came to his face as
he pulled out a crisp five dollar bill and put it in his pocket.

“Thanks
Uncle Jason and Aunt Misty,” Ken loudly expressed his gratitude, the huge grin
still on his lips.

“You
bet,” Jason replied, smiling in return.

He
overheard Susan turn to Misty and whisper, “He usually doesn’t get all that
excited about money.”

Misty
shrugged before whispering back, “Maybe he’s beginning to learn the value of
the dollar.” Oh yeah… definitely. Maybe money couldn’t buy true love, but it
sure seemed to be able to help get you there.

“Who’s
up for cake?” Susan asked, in a loud announcer-like voice.

“Me,”
all the kids chimed together, giving their answer a sort of odd harmony.

“All
we need is for the birthday boy to come blow out his candles,” Susan said
before leading off singing “Happy Birthday” as Ken walked over to his cake.
When the song concluded, he huffed and he puffed and he blew every single
candle out.

“What’d
you wish for?” Jason called out.

“I
wish I were a cowboy!” Ken blurted out and, as a result, everyone burst into
laughter.

“You’re
not supposed to tell your wish,” Misty said in a playful tone.

“If
you don’t tell nobody your wish then how’s it supposed to come true?” the
confused kid asked.

Laughter
filled the room once more, and Misty chuckled, “Well, I guess you do have a good
point there.”

After
all the kids had gotten their fill of cake, ran around, laughed, and just acted
crazy; they, one by one, began to leave. Ken didn’t seem too troubled by their
departure… at least not until it was the little girl’s turn to go. Then it was
goodbye happy days. It seemed that the boy was reverting back to his shy and
awkward ways because he stood with a sad look on his face and just watched her
follow her older sister towards the door.

“Kenny,”
his mother spoke in a surprised voice that also held a bit of shame, due to his
seeming lack of manners. “Tell you friend goodbye and thank her for coming.”

“Bye,”
Ken spoke shyly as he gave her a small wave. “Thanks for coming.”

“Bye,”
the little girl responded sweetly. “I’ll see you soon.” The look in Ken’s eyes
said he really hoped she was right.

Soon
the only ones who hadn’t left were Jason and Misty. They sat on the loveseat
talking with Susan and Ken. When the boy’s mother announced that it was time
for him to scamper off to bed, the boy eyed Jason closely as he leaned up and
whispered something into his mother’s ear.

“I
don’t know,” Jason heard her reply. “You’ll just have to ask him.” His nephew
hung his head a little, obviously a bit bashful of his request. “Go ahead,” she
encouraged him again. “I don’t think he’ll bite.”

Reluctantly,
without making eye contact, Ken wandered over to his uncle and stood before him
squirming uneasily.

Jason
leaned forward. “What is it, buddy?” he asked.

The
boy was silent for a moment longer before he mumbled, “Will you come say my
good night prayer with me?”

Jason’s
heart lurched. It was such a beautiful request, but he wasn’t even sure exactly
how to pray. “I guess I can do that,” he answered in an unsure voice, “but
you’d better do the talking, okay?”

“Okay!”
the boy shouted, breaking into a huge grin. With that, he turned and ran
towards his bedroom yelling, “Come on, Uncle Jason. Last one there’s a rotten
egg.”

The
rotten egg laughed and chased after his racing nephew. Reaching the boy’s room,
he sat down on the bed next to where Ken was already kneeling. “Okay, I’m
ready,” he said.

“Not
like that,” Ken instructed. “You’ve got to get on your knees… like me.”

His
uncle complied and, with everything the way it was supposed to be, Ken began.
“Dear Jesus, thank you for my birthday and for my horse and for my gun and for
my gun holder and for my cowboy… and for Uncle Jason. Amen. Oh, and help
me’da
sleep good. Amen.”

Jason
smiled. “Good prayer, bud,” he said, giving his nephew a rub on the head. “We
cool now? No songs to sing or stories to tell?”