Eleanor Tatum

While returning to the kitchens, Catherine discovers a chance to repay Trevor for saving her. Her weapon of choice… a pinecone.

She hated leaving the Garretts with all the packing and cleanup, but the urge to run overcame her good heart. She crouched low and moved quickly as possible. Jumping out of her skin with every snap of a twig and birdcall, she finally made her way to the bend in the road, half way back to the lake. A sudden flash of sunshine hitting metal had her stopping, kneeling, then nearly eating the sandy soil under the large red-bush tree.

Through the thickness of her surroundings she studied the silhouette of a familiar hunter sitting on a wide tree trunk. His weapon rested against his forest furniture as he stared at a narrow flowing stream. Overhead shadows from the giant wingspan of a turkey buzzard alerted Catherine to turn her head. To her right, across the sandy road, stood a fellow hunter, aiming his gun at Trevor’s back. Catherine grabbed a nearby pinecone and threw it straight up in the air. His weapon jerked upward and fired. The blast had the forest wildlife screeching and screaming. She covered her head and neck with her hands and prayed.

“Oh my God, Coffman, um…did you see that bear?” Catherine imagined the series of strategic thoughts swirling around Edgar Cranfield’s cries, as he jumped over thickets and across the road to reach his intended target. “I nearly hit him. He was enormous. Well…maybe not that big, but at least he was interesting and worth the effort.”

Catherine stayed as still as possible while winching at each lie and attempted cover of fault. She stayed where she had thrown herself and hoped Trevor would sense the duplicity.

“Cranfield?” Trevor’s jumpy sounds came from her left.

“Did you see which way it ran? I can’t believe I missed it,” Cranfield whined.

A few others arrived to investigate the shot they had heard. There were questions for Cranfield and Trevor about the bear’s size, color, and direction. The voices faded down the northerly path and Catherine dared to wiggle her toes. A frightening rustling sound commanded that’s not all she’d better move.

“Peculiar resting place, Miss Randolph,” joked a pleasant whisper.

She saw the offered gloved hand and decided to chance it. He helped her to stand and together they began to brush off the twigs and dirt. He gently removed leaves that had attached themselves to her sleeves. She nervously followed his lead and started on her blouse. Her focus moved to his shy grin. She felt warm in spite of the stiff afternoon breeze. Grabbing his arm for support, she slightly weaved toward him.

“Are you going to faint? Please don’t do that. Do you need some water?” He swiftly surveyed for any company and questioned, “Why are you here, anyway?”

“No, I don’t faint. I won’t. Listen…um, you must realize that man tried to shoot you, don’t you?”

“What? No, Cranfield’s a terrible shot, but he wouldn’t, not intentionally.”

“Yes, he did,” she gave him a speculative grin. “I threw a pinecone to divert his aim.”

“Pinecone? No, he was just excited because he thought he’d finally spotted a bear,” he put his hands on his hips, looked around in thought. “Pinecone, really?”

She decided she could enjoy his blue eyes, lake eyes, even if he did think she was crazy.

Egad! and Enough! Until Later…