Chapter5

Mark McCormick awoke slowly, surprised to see the brightly lit room rather than the dull gray of the jail cell. Oh, yeah. It came back to him as his mind cleared. Hardcase had sprung him last night and brought him back to Gull's Way. The Coyote had not been sitting in the driveway, so he had quickly used the gatehouse to shower and grab some clean clothes, and then the judge had put him up in a spare bedroom in the main house. He hadn't been thrilled with the idea of the cop staying in 'his' house another night, but what was he supposed to do—boot him out and stick him in a cab in the middle of the night? Not likely. Besides, he had been snuggled into the guest bed and sound asleep before Wilde had ever returned to the estate, so it wasn't like it made a difference, really.

Glancing over at the clock, he was surprised to see that it was almost noon. He swung out of bed quickly, grabbed his stuff, and headed for the bathroom. Hardcastle would kick his butt if he didn't get moving soon. He smiled at the thought, knowing it wasn't really true…not today, anyway…but that wouldn't keep the judge from going on a full-fledged rant. He'd like to avoid that, if at all possible.

After an invigorating shower and a fresh set of clothes, McCormick decided he should've stayed in bed. He still looked like hell—to use Harper's eloquent description—and he thought he would feel a lot better after about twenty more hours of sleep. Still, after being locked in the same room for a week, he didn't intend to spend his first day of freedom indoors and asleep. Even his chores would be a welcome change of pace today.

He bounded down the stairs, but Hardcastle wasn't in the den, so he went immediately to the kitchen. He slapped together a ham sandwich, added a pile of chips to the plate, grabbed a can of soda from the refrigerator, and then headed out the back door toward the pool.

As he approached the deck area, he was reminded of his outburst toward the judge last weekend. That had been stupid, and he vowed he was going to try harder to control his temper…before it landed him in real trouble.

"Mornin', Judge," McCormick called as he rounded the corner, then faltered for a moment when he saw the second figure seated at the table.

"It's afternoon, McCormick," Hardcastle corrected. "I was beginning to think you were never gonna get up."

"I still need my beauty rest," McCormick returned with a grin, as he hesitantly resumed his movement toward the pool. "Too bad a little sleep couldn't do anything for you, though."

"How're you feeling, Mark?" Frank Harper asked, interrupting Hardcastle's reply.

"I'm okay, Frank," McCormick answered slowly. He saw Hardcastle roll his eyes at his use of the detective's given name, but that was the last thing on his mind at the moment. "Mind if I join you guys, Judge?"

Hardcastle recognized the fear lurking behind the simple question. "'Course not, kid, it's your home, ya know."

The young man glanced at the judge sharply. If the words had been meant to reassure, he would need to give the guy some lessons. He set his plate and drink on the table and continued with the small talk. "Did you guys want anything from the kitchen? I hate to eat in front of you."

"Since when?" Hardcastle barked.

McCormick grinned; the familiar tone was much more comforting. "Not you, Hardcase. I meant Frank." He seated himself at the table and bit into his sandwich with obvious pleasure, though he found himself continually glancing up at the two men sitting with him at the table. Was it possible this was nothing more than a visit between two old friends? Not likely, but he'd had bigger surprises lately. He looked around curiously. "Where's Wilde?"

"Took him home this morning," Hardcastle answered. "He said to tell you he liked the car."

"I'll bet," McCormick huffed. As he ate, he saw the others exchange a look that seemed remarkably like they were having fun at his expense again. "What?" he demanded.

"You're still awfully suspicious, Mark," Harper told him.

McCormick met his eyes. "I'm still the same guy."

Harper grinned maliciously. "Yeah, I remember; we met. King of the melodrama, wasn't it?"

McCormick struggled to conjure up a comeback that wouldn't betray too many of his true feelings.

Seeing the uncertainty written across the young man's face, Harper decided to let him off the hook. "I just dropped by for an update, Mark. You snuck out without even saying good-bye, you know."

"Oh, don't go pampering him, Frank," Hardcastle complained. "He'll start expecting it from everyone."

"I don't think you need to worry about that, Judge," McCormick assured him. "There's not too much that would surprise me these days, but you makin' a fuss over me would definitely make the list."

"Glad you understand that, kiddo."

McCormick shook his head with a grin. "Definitely something else," he muttered, as he popped the last bite of his lunch into his mouth. After a moment, he sobered. "I'm gonna start with the pool, Judge, if we're gonna be here a while?"

"Where would we be going, McCormick?" the judge growled.

"I dunno," McCormick answered with a shrug, "just checking." He pushed back from the table and headed to the pump house.

The other men watched him drag the pool supplies out of the small shed to begin vacuuming the pool, and both could see the tension carved in his body.

"I think I'm making him nervous," Harper commented softly to the judge.

"Probably," Hardcastle agreed with a smile, "but it won't kill him."

Harper grinned. "You really should think about cutting him a little slack for a while, Milt."

Hardcastle shifted to face the detective. "Why?" he demanded. "Just because he's a little tired and cranky?"

"No. Because he wants to trust you even though you just put him in jail for a week for something he didn't do. You could make that easier on him, and you know it."

"I really shoulda warned you," Hardcastle muttered, "for my sake. The last thing I need is another convert to the McCormick way of thinking."

"Don't worry about that too much," Harper replied. "He's a good kid, but I don't know about his way of thinking…it's a little out there." He grinned and rose from the table. "But I'm gonna go. Maybe you'll both relax a little." The lieutenant raised his voice. "Mark, I'll see you later."

McCormick looked up from the pool and waved, the relief obvious in his face. "See ya, Frank."

"Call me if you need any more help, Milt," Harper said, and disappeared.

Hardcastle sat in silence for a few moments, then picked up his daily newspaper. He had read it this morning, of course, but now it was time for research. If his mysterious caller thought McCormick was out and about last night, then it seemed reasonable he would probably hear more today. He'd search the paper for any likely crimes, and maybe he would be more prepared when they called again.

He had made it through most of one section by the time McCormick was packing up the last of the chemicals. "I'm gonna do some mowing now, Judge," the young man called.

"Hold on, McCormick," Hardcastle stopped him. "Come over here a minute."

McCormick approached the table slowly, doing his best to appear nonchalant. "What's up?"

Hardcastle waved him into a chair before continuing. "You seem kind of…I don't know…tense, or something. You okay?"

Dammit. Hardcastle immediately kicked himself mentally. He had intended to offer reassurance, not make the kid admit his fears. Why had it not come out that way?

"I'm still kinda tired, Judge," McCormick answered, not quite meeting Hardcastle's gaze. "Nothing to worry about."

"What I meant to say," Hardcastle clarified, "is that you don't need to be worried. Things are fine here. We're fine." He paused a moment, then added, "Unless there's something you want to talk about?"

McCormick did meet the judge's eyes then, though he wasn't certain what he'd find there. "Um, I'm not sure what you mean, Judge. Is there something you need me to talk about? More questions for me?"

Hardcastle rubbed his hand across his mouth, frustrated, and beginning to regret having started the conversation. "No, McCormick, I don't have questions. You've missed the point entirely. It's just that you're acting a little strange today. Stranger than usual, I mean. You look like a quarter would bounce off of you, you're so tight, and it seemed like Harper made you uncomfortable." He examined McCormick closely. "You don't think I'm convinced, do you?"

"No," McCormick said simply.

"McCor—"

McCormick held up his hand to stop the rebuttal. "Judge, you don't have to explain. I appreciate you giving me a chance; that's more than most people would've done. It's just…well, just that…I don't know what to do now. I don't know how to act around you; don't know what to say. If things were weird before, they have just become eerily bizarre."

Hardcastle laughed briefly. "McCormick, you do have a flair for turning an interesting phrase. But listen to me, kiddo." His suddenly serious tone grabbed McCormick's attention. He saw the jaws clench on the young face, and was hit with a wave of guilt. He had to find a way to get past this, for both their sakes.

"Listen," he repeated. "Getting you paroled in my custody, that was giving you a chance. Letting you have the gatehouse instead of the gardener's trailer, that was giving you a chance. Hell, even your original sentence when you were in my court was lenient, and that was giving you a chance. But bringing you home last night…that had nothing to do with giving you a chance; that was getting someone out of jail who had no business being there in the first place.

"Now, I'm not gonna apologize for puttin' you there, because I had to know. But I do know now, and you need to know that. I'm ready to move past this, McCormick. Are you?"

The young, blue eyes shone with emotion as McCormick stared disbelievingly at Hardcastle. He wanted—almost desperately—to respond to each and every word he had just heard, but something had tightened around his heart like a vise, and whatever it was seemed to also be freezing his tongue. He settled for answering the question that had been posed.

"Yeah, Judge," he managed a hoarse reply, "I'm ready. Let's forget it ever happened."

"No, McCormick," the judge contradicted, "we don't ever forget. We remember, and we learn."

McCormick nodded as he rose from his seat. Determined to lighten the mood, he found a smile. "It's a deal, Kemosabe. But what I have learned so far is how cranky you get when the lawn doesn't look just right, so I'm gonna do some mowing." He paused for a moment, and then grinned. There was still one other comment that couldn't go unanswered.

"And maybe later you can find a way to explain the legal definition of 'lenient' for me, Judge, 'cause I'm pretty sure we've got some different ideas." He ducked quickly out of Hardcastle's reach, and laughed as he jogged from the patio to continue his chores.

Hardcastle grinned, too, suddenly very glad he had started the conversation.

00000

McCormick flipped on the stereo and collapsed onto his bed. It had been a long day, and he was glad to be settled back into familiar surroundings. He had worked all afternoon in the yard, never once complaining about his status as a 'slave,' and the exertion had only added to his exhaustion. But he hadn't complained because anything was better than being locked up, and today did not seem like the right time to imply otherwise—even jokingly.

When Sarah had returned from the weekly shopping trip in the late afternoon, she had been delighted to see for herself that McCormick had returned home, and he had been touched by her reaction. And, after taking one look at him, she had immediately put a stop to the yard work, saying she could use some help in the kitchen instead. Even Hardcastle seemed to know better than to argue with her at that point, so McCormick had a shower and a change of clothes, then reported for kitchen duty.

But Sarah had pushed him into a chair out of the way—saying she'd been successfully cooking dinner since before his parents had been born—and proceeded to move about the kitchen, keeping up a steady stream of conversation all the while. McCormick appreciated her subtle approach, and he certainly appreciated her saving him from a few more hours of demanding chores. He might not be comfortable standing up to Hardcase today, but he was glad someone was.

The three of them had dined together on a delicious meal of baked chicken, steamed vegetables and fresh baked bread, and the dinner conversation had been entertaining and comfortable. McCormick was still a little surprised at the way the other two accepted him into their home, but he was more surprised by how grateful he was for that acceptance, and how badly he hoped he would never lose it.

After dinner, he had helped Sarah with the dishes—really helped, not just hidden out from the judge—then he had joined Hardcastle in the den to see what was on television for the evening. They had argued over the current action film or the black and white western, but—of course—Hardcastle had won the argument, and McCormick had resigned himself to enduring yet another saloon brawl and high noon showdown.

Now, as the music washed over him, he smiled as he thought the judge was kind of lost in time; the old donkey would've been a better match back in the days of the original white hats. But if he was forced to admit the truth, McCormick was grateful to have him in the here and now. He was still astounded by the speech the judge had made this afternoon, still couldn't believe the old guy really trusted him in this situation. Again his heart was gripped with that indefinable feeling that seemed to cause his breath to catch in his throat.

As he drifted off to sleep, McCormick knew that he would give almost anything to keep that feeling alive within himself.

00000

"I appreciate the call, Frank," McCormick heard Hardcastle say into the phone.

McCormick dropped into an easy chair for a short break from yard work with his glass of tea and watched Hardcastle quizzically. It wasn't bad enough that he was living with a judge; the judge had to have friends who were cops. The whole situation was enough to make a guy crazy.

Hardcastle finished his conversation. "I think we're okay here for now, but keep me posted on any new developments, would you?" He listened a moment. "Yeah, of course I will. Talk to you soon." He returned the receiver to its cradle and looked across the room.

"What's up with Frank?" McCormick inquired. When Hardcastle didn't answer right away, the young man began to feel self-conscious. "I mean, if it's okay that I ask," he stammered. "I'm not trying to butt in or anything."

Hardcastle smiled slightly, immediately reminded that they still had some adjusting to do. "I'll make you a deal, McCormick. You feel free to ask anything you want, and I'll feel free to tell you if it's none of your damn business."

"Deal," McCormick grinned. "So, what's up with Frank?"

"One of his officers got a call today, an anonymous tip."

McCormick groaned. "Don't tell me."

"Sorry, kiddo. I guess he got tired of waiting for me to lock you up."

"Yeah, just because he doesn't know we did that already." He tried not to sound bitter, but he'd only been home a few days; he sure wasn't ready to go back inside again. "So what do they want to do now?"

"Well, it's not like it was a surprise to Frank, you know. For right now, it's under control. He's explained the situation to his officers. Without any physical evidence, or even any real circumstantial evidence, they're willing to accept our take on it for the moment."

"Thank God for that," McCormick said with relief, "because I am not ready to spend any more time as one of L.A. county's guests." He thought for a moment.

"But if this guy is true to form, he's not gonna stop with that one call. How long do you think they'll be willing to accept 'our take'?"

"I don't know, McCormick," the judge growled, "but quit being so pessimistic about everything. I told ya, they don't have any real evidence to go on. Nothing's gonna change that." He paused. "Is it?"

"No, Hardcase," McCormick answered with an easy grin, "nothing's gonna change that."

"Okay, then. In that case, get out of here and get back to work on the hedges."

McCormick leapt to his feet, plastered a severe expression onto his face, and snapped to attention. "Aye, aye, sir. Mark McCormick, sir. Reporting back to yard duty."

Hardcastle waved him out the door without comment, working hard to hide his amusement behind a stern glare.