Free Friends and Enemies by Stephen A. Bly Page B

“I was just saying that Quint and I . . .”
    â€œQuint? Do you really call him Quint?” Patricia quizzed.
    â€œWill you let me finish the story?”
    â€œI wonder if he’d get mad if I called him Quint?” she replied.
    â€œI can’t imagine Quintin getting angry about anything,” Robert offered. “He’s too much like his daddy.” He motioned for Patricia to pass the pomegranate jelly.
    Veronica, clad in pink robe and matching slippers, brown hair combed out and hanging almost to her waist, scurried up to the table. “Who is like his father?”
    â€œWe’re talking about Quint . . .” Patricia grinned.
    â€œQuintin Troop? You call him Quint?” Veronica gasped.
    â€œThis conversation doesn’t seem be going anywhere,” Jamie Sue protested. “Sit down. Now that we’re all here, Daddy can pray a blessing for the day.”
    When Robert finished, Little Frank spooned into a bowl of grits. “Quint and I swung by the livery so I could show him the racehorses . . .”
    â€œYou’re wearing my robe,” Veronica challenged her sister, who sat next to her.
    â€œI am not. This is my robe,” Patricia insisted.
    â€œGirls!” Jamie Sue scolded, “Little Frank is telling us something.”
    Little Frank gulped down a fat wad of grits. “We thought we would just peek at the horses, but the trainer was exercising them and we got to see the way they . . .”
    â€œThat is too my robe. This one has a tea stain on the cuff. See?” Veronica held up her arm. “You were the one that put your arm in the tea yesterday.”
    â€œYes, but I was wearing your robe when I did it because you had taken my robe.”
    â€œI did not!”
    â€œYes you did. When Grandpa brought them over, he gave me the first robe out of the box. And when we carried them up the stairs and laid them on the bed, you switched robes.”
    â€œI did not.” Veronica had one small spoonful of eggs on her large, otherwise-empty plate.
    â€œYou know you did. So the robe I got the tea on is not my robe but your robe and . . .”
    â€œGirls!” Robert barked. “This is the silliest discussion I have ever heard in my life. Sit still. Eat more than one bite of eggs. And let your brother finish his story.”
    Little Frank took a slice of bacon in his fingers, folded it into a small square, then crammed the whole piece in his mouth. “Ehfm, knin mmgn . . .”
    â€œWait until you chew that bite,” Jamie Sue insisted.
    â€œSay, Mama, how would you like to go with me to Rapid City for a couple days,” Robert teased.
    â€œI’d love to. The children will have to fend for themselves.” Jamie Sue took another sip of coffee.
    â€œWhat?” Veronica gasped.
    â€œWe’re teasing,” Robert explained. “But I want you to mind your mama and be helpful while I’m away. Little Frank, stop eating for a minute and finish your story.”
    â€œThe horse trainer said he was promised a one-mile horse track to race the horses on if he brought them to Deadwood.”
    â€œBut we don’t have a mile-long horse track,” Robert pressed.
    â€œExactly.” Little Frank glanced across the table. “’Nica, are you goin’ to eat that bacon?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œYes, she is,” Jamie Sue announced.
    â€œWell,” Little Frank continued, “the trainer is going to have to extend the track. Homestake Mine is furnishing the property free, but he has to clear it, level it, and put in some guardrails. He said if me and Quint help him for the next couple of weeks, he’ll let us use the grounds for baseball after the horse racing is over. Won’t that be swell to have a full-size field?”
    â€œSo, this man gets you two boys to work for free? What kind of man would employ child labor and refuse to pay them?” Jamie