Red Creek Waltz

by Gregory Kay

  Katie, the youngest, darkest and shortest, went to Scott; she unzipped his jacket slowly, a tooth at a time.

  “Why, you must still be cold; you’re shaking like a leaf on a tree.”

  It was obvious from her tone that she knew his body temperature had very little to do with his shivering at the moment, but Scott tried to bluff it out.

  “I’m still a little chilly from being outside.”

  “Well, then I guess I’ll just have to see if I can warm you up, won’t I?” Even while she said it, she opened his jacket and pushed her body against his, flattening her breasts against his chest for long enough to reach behind him and slip the sleeves off his arms. She was so close to him he could feel the tiny points of her hard nipples pressing against him through his shirt, and taste the warmth of her breath. Then she pulled back and giggled. “You’re a shy one, aren’t you? I bet you’ll lose that pretty soon.”

  Scott’s mind whirled in confusion.

  Oh God, what am I gonna do? If Becky ever finds out, she’ll kill me!

  Meanwhile, Susie, who had greeted them on the cabin's porch, inserted the index finger of her right hand in the V of Jake’s jacket zipper and pulled downward, the motion parting the fastener, slowly opening the jacket while dragging the fingertip nonchalantly down Jake’s chest and stomach, leaving a feeling like an electric shock behind. The jacket opened just as her finger passed his belt buckle, lightly but very deliberately plucking at it in passing, and she pulled her hand back, smiled, and raised her eyebrows. Jake wondered if he were dreaming.

  This can’t be real!

  He wondered how Mr. Jenkins was taking his daughters’ antics, but when he looked up, he saw the older man seemed to think the situation was as amusing as his offspring did.

  In a moment that seemed like it was a lot longer than that, the girls had taken their guests' hats and coats and hung them on a row of pegs beside the roaring fireplace. Then they physically guided the boys to the split log bench by the door. Once there, they forced as much as guided the three to sit down. Kneeling in front of them, the sisters unlaced their boots and slipped them off before carrying them to the hearth as their father had instructed.

  In a moment the girls were back, and this time they began massaging the boys’ feet.

  “You don’t have to do that,” Jake said, even though it felt so good he never wanted Susie to stop. She seemed to know exactly what she was doing, and her strong, nimble fingers found places on his soles he didn’t even know he had.

  “I know I don’t have to, but I want to. You’ve walked such a long way, your poor feet must be sore. You don’t really mind, do you?”

  “No,” Jake said sincerely, “I don’t mind at all.”

  “Good; then just sit back and enjoy it.”

  “Alright then, I will,” he told her, then sighed as she found a particularly tender spot.

  “You’re really good at this,” Joe Bob was telling Elizabeth.

  “I’m really good at a lot of things.”

  He smiled, and the 'I'll bet!' that never reached his lips was plain as day in his eyes.

  “You’ll have to tell me about those things sometime.”

  “Tell you or show you?”

  It took him a moment to recover his cool.

  “I always say that showing is better than telling.”

  “That’s what I say too.”

  Before he could answer, he heard Scott sighing beside him while Katie worked on his feet.

  “Man, I could get used to this!” and Joe Bob grinned.

  “Yeah, and Becky'll get used to your ass if she ever finds out!”

  Smiling, Elizabeth told him, “I think somebody’s a smart aleck. Good; I like that.”

  Scott was blushing deeply, but Katie put a protective hand on his thigh, and stroked it until he looked at her.

  “Don’t you worry none about Becky; Becky ain’t here!”

  Chapter 12

  Damn, it's getting bad! Good God, boy, where the hell are you?

  The snow and ice were turning to slush on the comparative warmth of the windshield, and piling up on Frank Estep's wiper blades as they swished back and forth, flinging it aside only to have it quickly replaced by more of the same, and the lights of the 24-7 were distorted through the streaked glass and the falling precipitation. Frank cut the wheel and went into the lot faster than was probably safe, and felt himself skid on the accumulating ice for a disconcerting instant before the four wheel drive’s big, deep-tread tires caught and held, bringing the truck to a halt near the front door.

  He was more than a little worried by that time; he was downright scared. Jake was a good driver, but he didn't have the experience to handle conditions like this; it was all Frank could do to handle them himself. And if the boys were out away from the truck and couldn't get back...

  He reminded himself of his own words to his wife earlier, about the boys knowing how to survive, and suddenly they sounded hollow to him too. Maybe it was his grandmother's call, but he was sure he had a feeling of his own that something was very wrong.

  Not even bothering to shut off the engine, he was out of the truck and inside the store in less than a minute. Carol looked up from her register when he came through the door followed by a blast of cold wind and blowing snow before it could close, and she instantly picked up on the worried lines of his face.

  “Hey, Frank. What in the world are you doing out in this mess?”

  “I’m looking for Jake and the boys. Have you seen them?”

  She nodded her head.

  “Yeah, I saw ‘em early this morning, a little before daylight; they were going hunting when they kidnapped Scott away from Becky.”

  “They didn’t happen to say where they were going hunting, did they?”

  “No, not to me any way. You mean they haven't called you or anything?” When he shook his head, she spared a glance at the snow swirling and boiling in the air outside, and it felt like the bottom just dropped out of her stomach. “That ain't like Jake. If they're out in this storm...”

  “Is Becky still here?”

  “She’s right back there, by the soda pop. Be careful,” she added with a derisive laugh, recovering her normal dry humor by sheer force of will, “she’s in a mood today.”

  “So am I,” Frank said even as he headed for the back of the store.

  Her back to the soda, Becky was slamming quarts of oil on the shelf with much more force than necessary. Still furious over the events of the morning, her anger had grown rather than lessened throughout the course of the day and all the unanswered text message, and she was muttering under her breath when Frank walked up behind her.

  “Who the hell does he think he is, treating me like that? Ooh, I’ll teach him a thing or two when he comes back!”

  “Becky, have you heard from the boys?”

  “Not since this morning,” she growled without bothering to look behind her. She'd dated Jake long enough that she recognized Frank's voice even though she hadn't noticed him come in. “And I don’t care if I ever hear from them again either! Especially that Scott, taking off like that when I told him to stay!”

  Frank felt a vein start throbbing in his temple, and paused to take a deep breath in an attempt to get his own anger under control. When he spoke again, his words were calm and unnaturally even and carefully pronounced, as if he were talking to a particularly recalcitrant idiot.

  “Do you know where they went?”

  She paused and turned to glare at him.

  “I don’t care where they went! They made a fool out of me in front of a store full of people!”

  Frank was more than a little concerned for his son’s safety, and more than a little pissed off at her self-centered attitude, and he had to fight to keep his temper in check.

  “This is important, Becky,” he began, the fraying patience obvious in his tone “I need to know where they are, and if you know, you need to tell me now.”

  Becky’s frown increased.


  Who the hell does he think he is, telling me what to do?

  “Hey, it’s not my job to keep track of those assholes – ow!”

  Both of Frank’s calloused workman hands closed like a matched pair of vices on her upper arms and he shook her hard, making her head rock back and forth, and his voice was a roar that got the attention of everyone in the store.

  “Damn you, you spoiled little brat, this is an emergency! There’s a blizzard moving in and those boys are out there in it somewhere, maybe lost and in trouble! They might die if I don't find them! I’m not Scott, and I’m not going to put up with your bullshit!” He shook her again and yelled. “Now you tell me where they went or so help me God, I’ll turn you across my knee, pull those jeans down, and I'll bust your ass right here in front of everybody in this damned store until you do! Now you tell me!”

  Becky’s mouth gaped, at his shouting voice, at the thought that someone would actually talk to her like that, and at the glaringly obvious fact that the normally even-tempered Mr. Estep was clearly angry and frightened enough over his son to carry out his threat. She glanced at the counter, hoping Carol had called 911, only to see the older woman and the other customers watching the proceedings with unconcealed amusement and maybe even anticipation, and suddenly she was very afraid.

  “They...” She paused, gulping hard. “Scott said Jake was taking them someplace up near Little Back Mountain.”

  “Little Back? That’s clear the hell on the other end of the county!”

  Her voice was a pleading whine.

  “That’s what Scott said. Please, Mr. Estep, you’re hurting me!”

  Frank released her, turned on his heel without another word, and walked out the door, leaving a red-faced Becky behind him, rubbing her bruised arms and nursing an even more bruised ego. Seeing Carol still looking at her and laughing, she yelled, “What’s so funny?”

  “You are,” she said.

  Chapter 13

  Jake was sure he’d never felt this good, and he had no doubt his friends felt the same. He’d never in his life imagined that a girl could be so openly flirty, so attentive. The sisters had fussed over them and pampered them and flattered them until they felt like royalty. Sitting there on the split-log bench, stocking feet stretched out before the fire in a warm cabin with the storm howling impotently outside, all while in the company of three extremely affectionate and beautiful girls, was more comfortable than any of them could have imagined.

  Jake stretched his feet out a little farther, put both hands behind his head, and leaned back against the wall.

  What did that old commercial say? Life is good! Well, I reckon it don’t get no better than this!

  “You boys warming up any?” Mr. Jenkins asked.

  “Yes sir, we’re getting there, thanks to you all.”

  The older man winked broadly.

  “I got something that’ll take the chill off of you.” Reaching into the battered cabinet behind him, he withdrew a quart mason jar full of clear liquid. “You boys drink shine, don’t you?”

  The voice was as pleasant as ever, but there was a faint hint of challenge in it, suggesting that anyone who didn’t had something wrong with him, most likely in the manhood department.

  “Oh yeah,” Joe Bob told him with studied casualness, full of bravado, “we drink it all the time!”

  Both Jake and Scott looked askance at him for a moment. Of course they had all had moonshine three or four times – it was an institution in the mountains, after all – but it had never been more than a swallow or two, and that was a rarity. It was usually more of a sort of cultural communion than something you drank for pleasure, since most of the time it cost more and tasted worse than the much more readily available store-bought brands.

  Meanwhile, Susie took the jar from her father and carried it to Jake.

  “Go ahead,” she said, holding it out to him with a wink, “it’ll put hair on your chest!”

  “And lead in your pencil!” Elizabeth added, causing Jake to blush just a little and Katie to clamp both hands over her mouth to stifle a giggle.

  Jake glanced at Mr. Jenkins; a lot of the fathers he knew would have been taking off their belt after a comment like that from one of their daughters, but he was laughing out loud, like it was the funniest damned thing he’d ever heard. Joe Bob, always on the lookout for opportunity, caught that too, and looked at Jake, wiggling his eyebrows up and down and grinning like a possum.

  Feeling everyone’s eyes on him, waiting to see what he would do, Jake brought the jar to his lips and took a cautious sip. It was by far the strongest thing he’d ever had in his mouth, but at the same time, there was something about the taste that reminded him somehow of clear sunlight. It certainly burned like it on the way down his throat.

  “Wow!” he said, lowering the jar a couple of inches and smacking his lips. “That’s mighty good!”

  Jenkins laughed.

  “You’re damned right it’s good; made it myself.”

  “Well, sir, you obviously know what you’re doing.”

  He took another, slightly deeper sip, and almost spit it out when Joe Bob’s elbow stabbed him unexpectedly in the ribs.

  “Doggone it, Jake, don’t hog it all now!”

  Slightly sheepish, Jake passed the jar over. Joe Bob grabbed it, gave him a look that said, ‘Watch this!’ and took three huge gulps, one right after the other. In the next instant, he doubled over coughing and wheezing. His face was almost purple, and everyone was laughing at his pained expression.

  “Ha! Now that’s the way to drink liquor, boy!” Jenkins howled and slapped his knee.”

  Jake patted his friend's back with a broad smile.

  “You alright there, Joe Bob?”

  “Yeah,” Scott put in, not about to miss the rare chance to rag his buddy instead of the other way around, “you look like you’re out of breath for some reason.”

  “God Almighty!” he finally managed to gasp, “I ain’t never had nothing like that! Here!” He thrust the jar into Scott’s hand. “Taste this!”

  Scott took a tiny sip, and Joe Bob shook his head as he finally got his breath back.

  “Come on, drink it! You want to look like a big wussie in front of these girls?”

  Scott glared at him, stung.

  Why does he always do this shit?

  Throwing back his head, Scott took a deep swallow, and an instant later was bent over and hacking just like Joe Bob had been, and the others found it just as hilarious.

  Katie patted and then stroked his back even while she giggled.

  “Don’t you go and die on me now! You just got here!”

  Grabbing the jar from Scott’s hand, Susie quickly handed it back over to Jake.

  “Here, Jake; show ‘em how it’s done!”

  Suddenly, for some reason, he desperately wanted to impress her. Putting the jar to him mouth after taking a deep breath, he began taking long, deliberate gulps. Watching in admiration, Joe Bob and Scott began cheering him on.

  “Go! Go! Go!”

  When he finally lowered the jar, its level had dropped substantially. His eyes were watering and his mouth formed a perfect ‘o’ as he blew out the fumes, and then followed it a loud rebel yell.

  “Yee-haw!”

  He heard the others applauding and saw Susie jumping up and down, smiling proudly and clapping her hands.

  “That's it, Jake! That's it!” she exclaimed before leaning over to grab his shoulders and give him a quick kiss on the cheek.

  Mr. Jenkins congratulated him. “Now that's a boy who appreciates good liquor!”

  “You're the man!” Joe Bob declared, “Now give me that!”

  “Hell, boys, drink up!” the old man encouraged, “I've got plenty more where that came from!” He emphasized his words by reaching into the cabinet and coming out with a second jar. “You all finish that one, and we'll crack open another; we're going to be here all night anyway.”

  They took him up on it, and the conversation cont
inued until that jar was finished, so they started on the second, definitely feeling the raw liquor's effects by that time. Jake could hear a faint slur in Joe Bob's voice, and he suspected his own sounded a lot like it.

  Jenkins suddenly asked, “Do you boys like music?”

  “Yeah,” “Yes, sir!” and “Hell yes!” followed enthusiastically, and the older man winked, grinned, and reached a hand into the same cabinet he had pulled the jars from, this time coming back with a fiddle and a bow. The instrument was old, not particularly fancy, and extremely well-worn, indicating it had been played quite a bit.

  Tucking the fiddle under his chin, he made a couple of scrapes across the strings, frowned and readjusted the tuning knobs, and then began to play.

  None of the boys had listened to anything quite like it before. It sounded generally like old time bluegrass, but there was a stronger hint of the misty Celtic lands of Scotland and Ireland than any straight bluegrass music they'd ever heard. It had other undertones as well, wild and untamed that seemed to bring visions of the mountains themselves, of hard rock, deep, lonely hollers, and dark, whispering trees.

  “I've never heard that good of fiddle playing in my whole life!” Jake whispered in awe, while Scott stared, wordless and wide-eyed, and Joe Bob's mouth hung open.

  “Damn! I ain't never heard nothing like this!”

  “You like it?” Elizabeth asked, and he nodded.

  “Yeah! It's great!”

  “Well let's see how you like this. Come on girls!”

  In an instant, all three Jenkins daughters were in line, each one in front of her chosen boy, and they began to dance. The firelight behind them shone clearly though the thin cloth they wore, revealing every detail of their naked bodies underneath, but if they were aware, they showed no sign of it.

  If their father was a master fiddle player, Jake decided, then his girls were mistresses of the dance. His mother had always been a fan of traditional clogging and had even won a contest or two when she was young; she still enjoyed it and had often dragged him along with her. He had seen some good dancers as a result, but nothing like this.