PacNorWest
Veteran Member
#704
Folks, it's spring work time; so I have to divvy up writing, garden work and being with Mr. Pac. It will all get done, but slowly. I'm almost 69, and old ladies regret moving fast.
Bert stared straight into the bore of the AK, and it didn't waver one bit. The flat cold stare that Clora was giving him, made him swallow hard several times and rethink his desire to save Linderman's hide. Suddenly he felt more fear from the group inside the house as he had sweated about the HS squad.
Clora was royally ticked off, and the jut of her jaw and narrow eyed look she was giving Bert said more than words.
"It's OK Clora, I'll take it from here," Mark gently used the palm of his hand to raise the muzzle of the weapon, noting first that Clora had her finger outside the trigger guard.
Clora's unreadable look, had Mark wondering if she was going to surrender the weapon, and then she did, pointing the muzzle toward the top of the wall so as to not endanger the children sleeping upstairs.
Helga had already started coffee, and a good strong cup and cookies did a lot to restore normalcy. Stephan has bed head hair sticking out all over and Olga was padding around in bare feet. Helga shook her finger at the younger woman and said something in Kazakh.
Olga nodded and turned around and went back upstairs.
"I tolds her it vas muches dangerous to be valking rounds if ve had a fires fights. Brokens glass vould cuts much." Helga lectured.
"Helga," Stephan interrupted sadly, "ve noes has hads moneys to buys slippers. Olga she does vithout soes Silva can hass clothes. Noes goods to makes her feel muches bads."
"Ach, you iss muches rights, I vill tells her I ams muches sorrys tomorrows morning." The two Kazakh couples and Clora went back to bed.
That left Bert and Mark staring across the table at each other. "I'm not sorry for what I did, I didn't want you killed and those trigger happy goons take by force first and don't bother to say I'm sorry afterward."
"Thank you," Mark looked at his boss and sighed. "I'm sorry to be so touchy."
"It's only starting Linderman. I'm under orders to relieve you of your badge until after another Grand Jury investigation. I don't want to do this and I have no recourse but to follow my orders. You are under semi-house arrest. Do I make myself clear?" Bert was a friend in the making, but his pills were bitter to swallow. "You are allowed to go to the Doctor for you and the Misses, and to the grocery store. You will not leave town. Any questions?"
"No," Mark would have liked to whine and spit, but as a trained military man he kept silent. This wasn't his first dressing down, and probably not his last.
"Give me a break Mark, the MS has to be above reproach." Bert rubbed the top of his head, his nerves were tingling and itching.
"What did they do with our dogs?" Mark realized little Lucky hadn't barked at all in alarm.
"Gassed them, they'll be OK when they wake up." Bert seemed a little squirmey when he said that, and Mark went outside to the porch. The dogs weren't there. "I think they're in the barn." Bert called out as Mark grabbed his pocket flashlight and went galloping to the barn.
Both dogs were alive, but bound up so they couldn't bite. One handed, it was difficult for Mark to cut the rope, but his knife was sharp and his anger pushed him on. Lucky was the hardest, he didn't want to be still and Mark had to work slow so he didn't cut the little terrier.
Blackie was whining and trying to push his nose under Mark's good arm. Lucky, when he was free, licked and licked what ever part of Mark he could get his tongue on. Together they went back to the porch, and Mark made sure their water dishes were filled with clean water. "Good dogs," he said softly, "thank you for trying to protect us." That was worth a couple of tail thumps and another lick or two.
Bert was sitting right where Mark left him, half asleep in the chair. Mark took him in the living room and offered the deluxe accommodations of the couch. Bert accepted gratefully. Mark locked both of his computers and went to bed himself.
Three hours sleep was all they got, morning calling with it's set routine of chores, breakfast, school bus and Karl having to take Bert home; as Mark wasn't supposed to leave.
"I hope you never tell him how close he came to having a hole blown in him, that's not very good to have your wife shoot your boss."
It was easy to see Clora was still mad.
"From the look on his face, I think he knows," Mark found the first humor in the whole situation. "He's scared of you Clora, you did good."
Folks, it's spring work time; so I have to divvy up writing, garden work and being with Mr. Pac. It will all get done, but slowly. I'm almost 69, and old ladies regret moving fast.
Bert stared straight into the bore of the AK, and it didn't waver one bit. The flat cold stare that Clora was giving him, made him swallow hard several times and rethink his desire to save Linderman's hide. Suddenly he felt more fear from the group inside the house as he had sweated about the HS squad.
Clora was royally ticked off, and the jut of her jaw and narrow eyed look she was giving Bert said more than words.
"It's OK Clora, I'll take it from here," Mark gently used the palm of his hand to raise the muzzle of the weapon, noting first that Clora had her finger outside the trigger guard.
Clora's unreadable look, had Mark wondering if she was going to surrender the weapon, and then she did, pointing the muzzle toward the top of the wall so as to not endanger the children sleeping upstairs.
Helga had already started coffee, and a good strong cup and cookies did a lot to restore normalcy. Stephan has bed head hair sticking out all over and Olga was padding around in bare feet. Helga shook her finger at the younger woman and said something in Kazakh.
Olga nodded and turned around and went back upstairs.
"I tolds her it vas muches dangerous to be valking rounds if ve had a fires fights. Brokens glass vould cuts much." Helga lectured.
"Helga," Stephan interrupted sadly, "ve noes has hads moneys to buys slippers. Olga she does vithout soes Silva can hass clothes. Noes goods to makes her feel muches bads."
"Ach, you iss muches rights, I vill tells her I ams muches sorrys tomorrows morning." The two Kazakh couples and Clora went back to bed.
That left Bert and Mark staring across the table at each other. "I'm not sorry for what I did, I didn't want you killed and those trigger happy goons take by force first and don't bother to say I'm sorry afterward."
"Thank you," Mark looked at his boss and sighed. "I'm sorry to be so touchy."
"It's only starting Linderman. I'm under orders to relieve you of your badge until after another Grand Jury investigation. I don't want to do this and I have no recourse but to follow my orders. You are under semi-house arrest. Do I make myself clear?" Bert was a friend in the making, but his pills were bitter to swallow. "You are allowed to go to the Doctor for you and the Misses, and to the grocery store. You will not leave town. Any questions?"
"No," Mark would have liked to whine and spit, but as a trained military man he kept silent. This wasn't his first dressing down, and probably not his last.
"Give me a break Mark, the MS has to be above reproach." Bert rubbed the top of his head, his nerves were tingling and itching.
"What did they do with our dogs?" Mark realized little Lucky hadn't barked at all in alarm.
"Gassed them, they'll be OK when they wake up." Bert seemed a little squirmey when he said that, and Mark went outside to the porch. The dogs weren't there. "I think they're in the barn." Bert called out as Mark grabbed his pocket flashlight and went galloping to the barn.
Both dogs were alive, but bound up so they couldn't bite. One handed, it was difficult for Mark to cut the rope, but his knife was sharp and his anger pushed him on. Lucky was the hardest, he didn't want to be still and Mark had to work slow so he didn't cut the little terrier.
Blackie was whining and trying to push his nose under Mark's good arm. Lucky, when he was free, licked and licked what ever part of Mark he could get his tongue on. Together they went back to the porch, and Mark made sure their water dishes were filled with clean water. "Good dogs," he said softly, "thank you for trying to protect us." That was worth a couple of tail thumps and another lick or two.
Bert was sitting right where Mark left him, half asleep in the chair. Mark took him in the living room and offered the deluxe accommodations of the couch. Bert accepted gratefully. Mark locked both of his computers and went to bed himself.
Three hours sleep was all they got, morning calling with it's set routine of chores, breakfast, school bus and Karl having to take Bert home; as Mark wasn't supposed to leave.
"I hope you never tell him how close he came to having a hole blown in him, that's not very good to have your wife shoot your boss."
It was easy to see Clora was still mad.
"From the look on his face, I think he knows," Mark found the first humor in the whole situation. "He's scared of you Clora, you did good."
