Jon Reskind - Caesar comes book I

"Needless to say, we didn't see hide nor hair of that damned vicious brute," Mark commented with a yawn, his bitter reference to Caesar reflexively vexing lean. "We heard them, though, baying up in the hills, and once there was a hell of a howl right here in town, but none of the sentries saw anything."

"He… he probably won't come back into Crescent Valley again," Jean protectively said. "Maybe he'd just take his pack elsewhere…"

"And maybe he won't," Mark replied, rubbing at his tired eyes. "Anyway, we can't afford to take that chance… not with a wild sonofabitch that dares attack young girls and actually rapes them… Damn, you know, I still can hardly believe it! A wild animal like that actually making a sexual assault on a human female…"

"He doesn't sound very much like a base animal to met!" Jean sharply asserted, unable to contain herself at her young husband's degrading remarks of the massive, loving dog, and sorry immediately after.

"Hey… that's a crazy thing to say, honey," Mark declared, leaning forward on the table of the booth to more closely observe her. "I don't get your meaning at all. What else would you call a wild and vicious brute-animal?"

Panicky, Jean sought for an answer, berating her own impulsive stupidity. As one lie begets another, so might one indiscreet statement, she realized, as she said: "Did it ever occur to you that maybe he was seduced into doing what he did?"

For a long moment, Mark didn't speak… couldn't. He merely sat staring at his young, ravishing blonde wife, while she busied herself with frying-pan, eggs and the like at the stove, not so much as tossing him a single glance to accompany her absurd question.

"C-Christ, Jean… did I hear you right?" he managed, swinging his feet around until they stuck out from the booth where he sat, almost reaching to the center of the small room. "You really couldn't mean that… little Annie Purcell actually seducing the wild bastard?"

"Well, why not?" Jean snapped, caught up in this malicious web of her own making, and further enraged by her husband's spurious terms for Caesar. She sensed her blue eyes smoldering as she glared at him. "To me, that's far more feasible than Caesar's attacking her! She's a wilderness girl, isn't she… a huntress and all of that? What's so impossible about her somehow seducing him? Women have done it before with dogs and donkeys, and God knows what-not! Well… haven't they…?"

Suddenly, more fascinated than shocked, Mark continued to stare at his lovely wife, the full realization of her words weirdly adding up to him. Christ, was it possible? Like she said, it made a hell of a lot more sense than the Goddamned beast raping her! She could have ripped her own clothing to shreds, and that certainly sounded more in keeping than the other way round! But… but how could she get next to that damned wild monster… and would she dare try…? What the hell…!

"Baby… I think maybe you've just opened a new can of worms… one nobody but another woman would ever think of!" Mark said, getting to his feet to pace meditatingly around their small kitchen. "In fact, maybe you've just hit the nail smack on the head… though I can't see why she would cry rape, unless she was looking to gain some warped notoriety… you know… like the Salem witch trials…"

"Well… I'm not all that certain Mark," Jean interrupted him, swallowing tightly as she realized the possible damage she could be doing to an innocent young girl's reputation. "I-I merely meant to imply that Caesar may not be as bad as he's painted…" She paused there, almost hearing her husband's eyes as they clicked to fasten on her. God, why didn't she shut up…?

"Hey… what is this with you… referring to this crazy vicious wild dog as 'him' and 'he' rather than 'it'… calling it Caesar…? Have you been listening to Granny Obert again? Have you, Jean?"

"How do you want your eggs?"

"Never mind that, answer my question, baby," he said, going to her and taking her gently by the shoulders, forcing her to face him. "Have you…?"

Jean dropped her eyes with an intentional 'naughty-girl' reaction, her protective brain racing, aware that he had provided the out for her. She sighed.

"Yes," she finally replied. "Yesterday morning… I wanted to know more about the stories… the myths, as you say…"

"And what do you say, Darling?" he partially smiled, his eyes searching hers.

She made a tiny nod, as if reluctant to do so, but knowing it was the surest way of escaping the situation she had been sinking deeper and deeper into… as well as protecting their unacceptable relationship of hours before.

"Myths, right?" he insisted.

"Oh Mark… I don't know… I guess so," Jean answered him, but still unwilling to readily deny her wonderful animal-lover. "I don't know, anymore than I'm capable of accusing Annie Purcell of such a thing…"

"Don't let the Annie idea bother you, baby," he assured, letting go of her and going back toward the booth. "Whether you're right or wrong there, none of us will ever know. I certainly wouldn't make the issue of it. What could it prove one way or the other? Only a nasty piece of circumstances for Annie, and no one wants that. Besides, it wouldn't change a damned thing, the pack has to be destroyed either way…"

Jean started to speak but the ringing telephone stopped her. She made a motion toward laying down the spatula to answer it, but Mark was enroute.

"I'll get it," he sighed. "It's undoubtedly for me… probably one of the ranchers wanting to know what the hell I'm going to do about the sheep he lost last night…"

Jean held up on cracking the eggs into the pan. The coffee was ready and she poured herself a cup, noticing the trembling of her hand. A cold sensation of illicit sensations shivered through her. For the first time in her life, she realized, she had blindly been ready to sacrifice… to hurt another person's reputation in the protection of her own… and a lover's! Dear God, this must be what an adulterous woman felt…!

"Hey Steve, you old hack!" Mark's jubilant voice severed her thoughts. She moved toward the doorway, holding her coffee cup to listen, a pleasant recognition drawing a smile. "How's Carol?" she heard him ask as he dropped onto the arm of the overstuffed chair. "Wait a minute…" he said, then to her in the doorway: "It's Steve Foster! Yeah, Steve, I had to tell Jeannie who was piping me this early in the morning from the big town… Yeah, that's right. What's up, anyway…? Well, that's the way it looks, Steve… and there's a reliable doctor's report to substantiate it. But where did you pick it up? I didn't know it was national news… Well, thanks for that, anyway! If this got an Associated United Press headlines we'd be snowed with reporters, and that we don't need right now… Yeah, still running wild and furious, but no more girls…" Mark laughed. "I can imagine with that lurid rag you represent… Listen, why don't you come up? Bring Carol with you. You guys can stay with us. Jean needs someone like Carol right now… Oh, anytime… tomorrow if you can make it! Good… just as soon as you can, then… Right we'll be looking for you, buddy… right, 'till you get here… Bye."

He cradled the phone, stood and wasted toward her, a pleased smile lightning his handsome face. "Good old Steve," he said, reaching out to slip an arm around her waist and walk her back toward the stove. "Some guy up here from L.A. on a fishing trip told him about the pack and Annie Purcell's rape. So that expose magazine he works for is ready to send him up. He and Carol will be here in a day or so to spend some time with us. Sound good?"

"Great," Jean smilingly replied. "Lord, it seems as if we haven't seen them in years, instead of months."

"It does at that, baby," Mark said, dropping heavily into the booth once more. "Maybe that's what we both need… old friends to put our minds straight, eh?"