The Tennessee Mountain Man

by Olivia Gaines

  “Give me your phone,” he said to Khloe. Before he had time to react she had his necktie in her hand, pulling his face close to hers and nearly choking him. He offered her a grin before rephrasing his request, “May I have your phone please so I can program the GPS coordinates in for the house?”

  “Certainly, husband,” she said, releasing the tie with a light kiss on the tip of his nose, then handed him her cell phone. It was a small gesture of affection, but she needed to get comfortable with him. If she gave affection early, Khloe hoped he would give it back in vast quantities.

  Instead of him being angry, he burst into laughter again. “Dang it, woman, I am liking you more and more by the minute,” he said, starting the Jeep, shifting the gears, and taking them to her new home.

  They rode in silence through the mountains and she was grateful he’d plugged in the coordinates. If she had to find it on her own, Khloe would be lost in the woods. They came to a clearing, made a sharp turn, headed down a slope, rounded a bend and came to what he said was home.

  “What the hell is that?” she asked, leaning out the window to look at what would be her domicile.

  “Welcome home, darling,” he said with a proud grin.

  Chapter Eight – It’s Simple. I Like It.

  She stared at the structure, trying in her best estimation to create a description of what she was seeing. It reminded her of a treehouse stuck in the side of a hill. The more she looked at it, the more it resembled a wooden yurt on stilts. There were no stairs so she couldn’t quite figure out how to get inside her new home. The good news was that it had loads of windows. The bad news was that the only thing she would be able to see out of them would be the trees.

  “What is it?” she asked, trying to open the door. Beau’s hand reached over, touching her arm sending little sparks down to her toes.

  “Not yet, this is just the front, we have to drive around back and up the hill to get inside,” he said, shifting to a low gear and rolling the Jeep forward.

  It was a slow climb over compacted soil. Her eyes remained focused on the wooden beams holding her new home up in the air. Although she’d researched the rainfall in the area, a good earthquake would shake them from the sky into a slow rolling death down the mountain. His hand was still on her arm as the vehicle climbed higher, coming the rear of the structure. Beau placed the Jeep in park and cut the engine.

  “This is my hunting cabin,” he said. “Working down at the school, it is easier to get back and forth to town as well as the sunlight here is great for the garden.”

  “Oh yeah, the garden,” she said, absently gawking at the hexagon-shaped structure.

  “Grab your stuff and get changed. We have a lot to get done before the sun sets,” he said but found himself moving quickly to avoid her grabbing his necktie. She’d reached for it, but he was quick for a man of his size. However, he wasn’t quick enough to avoid her grabbing his belt buckle and yanking his body with some force into the side of the car. His chest hit the door opening, and he grunted.

  “Mrs. Montgomery,” he said, amused at how quickly she moved as well. “Time is of the essence. Will you please grab a suitcase to change your clothing so I can show you how this works before the sun goes down?”

  “Mr. Montgomery, I can do that. Thank you for asking so nicely,” Khloe said, letting go of his belt buckle.

  Beau moved gingerly around the car to open the door for her. Her long legs sent his imagination into overdrive and he averted his glance to the back of the vehicle. Three boxes, two suitcases, and a strongbox. He would bring those in later. Khloe moved around him to open the rear passenger door to collect her purse, valise, and the smaller of the cases. Her small rounded bottom stuck in the air as she grabbed the case, and for the life of him, he wanted to take hold of those hips and pull them against his own just to ensure a snug fit. Focus, man.

  Suitcase in one hand and valise in the other, she let out a small whoop when he lifted her in his strong arms and threw her over his shoulder. She held tightly to the baggage as he carried his bride inside the structure. When he set his wife down on her feet she saw that the house was bigger on the inside than she’d imagined.

  “It has walls,” she said.

  “The house also has a water closet for guests and a master bath,” he said. “If you please, Mrs. Montgomery, let’s start there.”

  The master bedroom didn’t hold much furniture outside of a corner bureau with six drawers. A king-sized bed, with a nightstand on either side and three small closets, made up the master sleeping quarters. It is quaint.

  “We have a tub and a stand-up shower, through there,” he said, pointing at the door. Beau then took her focus to the outside. The master bedroom had two sliding glass doors. One set led to an open deck. The other set led to a screened-in porch. “If you like that sort of thing, we have a hot tub outside for soaking.”

  “I like that sort of thing,” she said, touching his arm. His eyes followed her fingers, loving the tender touch of the warm digits on his tattooed arms.

  “I’ll change in the other room, while you change in here. Please come out when you are ready,” he said. “The two closets on the left are yours.”

  “Thank you,” she said softly, taking her valise into the bathroom. To her amazement, there were two vanities. The one with the larger mirror, and nothing on the counter, she assumed was hers. Getting out of the dress, she changed into a pair of leggings, a loose fitted blouse, and a pair of sneakers. She nearly smiled when she noticed the bathtub had jets. At least he’s not a barbarian.

  Changed and ready to see what the evening would bring, she went out on the deck to look at the hot tub. It was large enough for four. To her left, she went through a door which took her to the screened-in porch where, to her delight, baskets of hanging berries and fruit that grew plump and ready for plucking dangled. There were fruit trees in planters that grew oranges, avocados. and lemons. Another set of glass doors led her into the main living area.

  Khloe stepped through the doors and sighed in relief. A love seat and couch resided in front of a fireplace and a flat screen television hung above it. The coffee table, a chunk of a tree trunk with a perfectly rounded piece of glass, held a small planter of lavender in the center. A bookcase, just the right size, held two shelves of books. Two others were empty for her to add to the collection. Sliding glass doors sat to the left and right of the fireplace.

  The open space of the home was refreshing. In the dining area, a rounded table, cut from the trunk of a what appeared to be the same tree, showcased the age of the fallen oak. Highly polished and sparkling like glass, the base, still in its natural form with bark, was covered in a poly-urethane which also made it shine. Eight chairs sat around the table and as for a dining room, it worked. The low credenza stuck in the angled wall made the cabinet unit appear to be a built-in. Khloe thought it would be perfect to showcase the china she’d brought with her. The glass door, delicately inserted, was clear enough to display the Wedgewood. Evidently, Beau thought so as well because the box of china she’d brought sat in front of it.

  “Later,” she said. “You can put those away later.”

  To the right of the credenza, was another set of glass doors which led to an outdoor grill. It looked like an outdoor kitchen shoved into the side of the hill.

  “Nice,” she said, looking at the small but totally adorable kitchen. The island, which also served as a room divider between the kitchen and dining table, also held a sink. The kitchen, while not very large, held a dorm sized fridge, a four-burner stove and an edible garden in hanging baskets that grew above the sink nestled inside the two windows. A larger window was set over the sink, giving her a view of the mountains, which made her breath catch.

  A sound drew her gaze as Beau came out of a room. Curiosity made her wander over to see what was in it, and she passed the water closet to enter a small office. The walls were bookshelves from the floors to the ceiling that held books of all sorts.

  “Wow,”
she said.

  “I take it that means you like your new home?” he asked, watching her with interest.

  “It’s simple, yet thoughtfully put together. I like,” she said, looking over her shoulder at him. “The edible garden in the kitchen is amazing. Where do you get your power and water?”

  “Glad you asked,” he said. “We are solar powered with a backup generator. It helps to charge your devices at night and pace yourself during the day on power usage. The water comes from rain, which in this location we don’t get much because of the mountain, and the rest comes from a nearby reservoir.”

  “So, water is plenty,” she said.

  “No, not really,” Beau replied. “Showers need to be quick. I recycle the water through triple filtration on two areas of inflow and outflow. The outflow is used to water the garden, which is our primary source of food.”

  “Oh great, lettuce which tastes like soap,” she said.

  “The filters are changed every three months to prevent that,” he said. “I don’t want to eat my dead skin cells.”

  “I really appreciate that,” she said, looking into the green eyes. Beau blinked several times before reaching for her hand. She placed it inside of his as he led her to the living room. A large cabinet rested against the wall that backed against the closets in their bedroom.

  “Under here are weapons,” he said. “I need to take you out and see you shoot to make sure you can handle every piece under there.”

  “Beau, I was in the Army for 20 years. I am a soldier. I can fire a weapon,” she said.

  “Yeah, but you were a nurse,” he said. “Your main weapons were a syringe and a bedpan.”

  “Ah, so we have jokes,” Khloe said.

  “Evidently, they weren’t funny enough to make you smile,” he said. “I look forward to hearing, at some point, what robbed you of your joy.”

  “Life sucked it out of me. End of story,” she said, bending over to give him another view of the delicious handful of butt. “Let’s see what you have under there.”

  Beau pulled out a Beretta, a .9mm Colt, a six-shooter, a Taurus Judge, a .45 Colt Revolver, three rifles, and a shotgun.

  “Well damn, thinking of starting your own militia?” she asked, fingering the weapons.

  “These are the law up here,” he said to her. “If a bear comes through that glass, you have to be ready. Mountain lions are also in these parts and meth dealers. I have to travel a bit some days to serve my customers. There will be times when you will travel with me, and other times, you may be here alone. I have to know you can handle yourself.”

  “I can handle anything that comes my way,” she said confidently.

  “Yeah, you can,” he said. “You’re handling me just fine.”

  There it was again. That look. The words of his brother came to her, “He’s going to wear your ass out tonight.” Her hands fisted and opened in nervousness at the thought.

  “Come o...,” he started but stopped himself. “Wife, we need to do few target practice shots, then I need to show you the garden before we can have some supper and settle in for the night.”

  “Wife. Woman. You can simply call me, Khloe,” she said, touching his arm.

  “Been alone a long time. I have to say the words to remind myself that it’s no longer just me. I have a woman to come home to, to see about and nurture. I have a wife who needs her man. Mrs. Montgomery exists in my world and saying the words makes you, this, us real,” he said, collecting the shotgun, rifle, and six-shooter. “Shall we go outside and see what you’re made of.”

  The target range was under the stilts of the house. It was a large cut of the same tree that made up the coffee and dining room tables. From the look of the wood, the same tree could have easily been the parent of the bookshelves, credenza, and cabinets. She made a mental note to ask him as they climbed down a deep set of steps. The wood blocks, surrounded by loose rocks, made a pathway of steps down under the house. A table rested far enough away to hold the weapons, but it was covered in spider webs. He used a brush to whisk them all away.

  “Wife, it becomes a matter of life and death to dust frequently and move the cobwebs away inside the home,” he said. “Simple, intricate webs belong to our spider friends who keep the pests away. Crazy webs belong to poisonous spiders who will rot your skin.”

  “Brown recluses and black widows,” she said.

  “There are also brown widow spiders who make pretty webs, but don’t trust them either,” he said. “Let’s get in some shots, then head back up to the garden before it gets dark.”

  He handed her the six-shooter and a box of rounds. Khloe loaded the weapon, aimed at the target, and fired six shots dead center.

  “Impressive,” he said, handing her the .9mm. She slapped in the cartridge, racking the slide to pull a round into the chamber, squeezing the trigger and repeated the same perfect shots, center mass. Before he could say any more, she loaded the rifle, fired three rounds in the same center. Then Khloe reached for the shotgun, but his fingers pressed against the soft flesh of her hand, preventing contact the weapon.

  “Show off,” he said with a smile.

  “When I tell you, I can do a thing,” she said, “I can do a thing.”

  “So, I see,” he said. “Up next, Wife, is the garden. I hope you can do a weeding thing because your husband hasn’t had time.”

  They climbed the steps to the deck, rounding the hot tub to a dip in the hillside. She inhaled sharply at the size and variety of the raised bed garden that had PVC pipes running horizontally through the rows.

  “That’s some garden,” she said. The bedding wasn’t too bad and chicken wire surrounded the wooden boxes.

  “Rabbits think so as well. The rabbits bring the foxes and bobcats,” he said, “and the woodrats bring the copperheads and timber rattlers, so always wear thick boots with heavy socks when you work out here.”

  “It doesn’t look too bad. The weeding I mean.”

  “Maybe, but usually it looks better than this,” he said. “This garden is currency. It is how we buy meats and others items we need for the winter.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The ad specified a knowledge of gardening,” he said. “I hope you also know how to can and store veggies. My folks hold an Autumn Equinox Festival that is coming up in two weeks. They call it a festival because a few of the cousins bring ponies for the kids to ride, but my folks slaughter a few hogs. We trade the vegetables for a ham, bacon, pork butts, and the like. A few folks have beef, but I travel enough to hit a grocery store to get mine. People will pay you in what they have. Arts, crafts, possum pies...most folks don’t have money.”

  “Wait... did you just say possum pie?”

  “Yeah, it’s like chicken pot pie but made with possum,” he said. “Some are pretty tasty but my Ma makes the best.”

  She stood staring at him, her face expressionless which made him start to laugh. That deep throaty laugh followed by the rumbling of his belly. It was the cue to head inside for the evening as the sun began to dip low behind the hills and darkness settled in around them like a mist.

  INSIDE, HE SET THE table with two plates, two forks, and two glasses. The refrigerator didn’t make ice, which he said was a luxury item. The food he warmed on the top of the stove and plated for them to sit and enjoy.

  “I know it’s not the ideal wedding night or nuptial meal but as soon as the school is done, we will take a honeymoon,” he told her.

  “Compared to the war zone I just left, the peace and quiet of this is honeymoon enough,” she said, taking his hand and asking him to bow his head for prayer.

  Khloe didn’t remember the last time she had fried food let alone fried chicken, and she ate it like an inmate fresh out the pen. The chitterlings she refused to eat and found the greens edible. Honey Montgomery’s biscuit melted in her mouth and she sat licking the crumbs off her finger.

  “Don’t eat often?”

  She chuffed, almost offering a smile. “I eat several time
s per day, but not fried foods,” she said, looking up at him. “Haven’t had fried chicken in years, but I’m curious, was this meal planned for my palate?”

  “Are you asking if they cooked fried chicken, mustard greens, and chit’lin’s cause you’re Black? Hell no, this is every day eating for us,” Beau said.

  “Oh wow,” she replied, eyeing the second piece of chicken that he slid across the table for her to have. “This leads me to another question. You specified a Black woman. Any reason why or you had an experience in college that you never got over?”

  “Naw,” he said. “It was Penny.”

  Khloe ripped the chicken wing apart, nibbling on the flat portion, sucking the meat from the bone. “Who is Penny?”

  “The girl from Good Times,” he said, sucking the chicken grease off his finger.

  “Janet Jackson?”

  “Noooo, there is a difference, between sweet little Penny and Janet,” he said. “I fell in love with Penny.”

  “This I have to hear,” she said, leaning forward, hanging on his every word. Beau took her plate, scraping off the chitterlings and adding them to his own, and passing her the last chicken thigh. She thanked him, continuing to eat the greasy yard bird, praying it didn’t tear her stomach up.

  “My Pa, you’ll meet him soon, has always given me a wide berth because he said I was real smart. One summer, I asked to go to the beach. We went, but keep in mind my folks are simple people,” he said. “No hotel rooms or anything like that, so he called it camping. That meant all of us would sleep in the back of the truck with a tarp over it to avoid skeeter bites.”

  Khloe sat expressionless wondering where he was going with the story, but she listened, just enjoying the imagery he painted with his words.