Chapter 13
"You're never gonna make it home if you don't start eating better, McCormick."
'Probably never make it home if I crawl out of this bed and deck you, either,' McCormick thought angrily. He kept his teeth gritted together to ensure the damning words didn't actually escape his lips.
"Did you hear what I said, McCormick?" Hardcastle demanded.
McCormick glared over at the scowling jurist, but still didn't answer. It was going to take another moment before he could trust himself to speak.
"Well?"
"I'm not hungry, Judge," the young man finally replied, somehow managing to keep his tone level.
"I don't remember asking if you were hungry," Hardcastle snapped. "But I do remember the doctor telling me that you weren't eating enough to get your strength back up. You know, I'd like to get out of here sometime soon, but I'm beginning to think you've decided this hospital bed is an easy way to get out of your chores."
"Easy?" McCormick sputtered, his face turning beet red. "Easy? Judge, there has been nothing easy about my life since the day I met you, and I'm not looking for that to change anytime soon. And, just for the record, I'd clean a lot of gutters and clip every hedge on the estate not to be here anymore. So as soon as you can get these quacks to let me out of here, you'll get your slave labor back. Sorry I put such a crimp into your daily routine. Next time I get tortured by one of your bad guys, I'll try to just go ahead and die."
McCormick regretted the words the second they left his mouth. True, Hardcastle was making him crazy with the constant hovering. And the judge's mood seemed to be growing surlier by the day. But, there was no way he wanted to start Hardcastle down the familiar path of guilt and shame. He grabbed the fork laying beside his plate.
"I'm sorry, Judge; I know you're worried. I'll eat, okay?" He shoveled some mashed potatoes into his mouth. "Okay?" he repeated thickly.
Hardcastle nodded silently. He watched as McCormick diligently worked his way through the tepid food that clearly was not enjoyable. After several agonizing minutes, he spoke. "I'm not really worried about the chores, McCormick."
"I know," McCormick replied, then forced himself to take another bite of the bland baked chicken.
Another long moment passed before the judge spoke again. "I can't really do anything about the food, kiddo, but would you at least like me to get you a soda? That's sort of like junk food."
McCormick grinned. "That would be great. Maybe one of those giant ones like they have at the convenience stores?"
The judge returned the grin as he started out the door. "How about one of those cans like they have in the machine down the hall?"
"'Kay." McCormick just shook his head as he continued his tasteless meal, and wondered just what the hell was wrong with the judge.