Barbara Boswell - The Wilde Bunch

They entered a room-size entry hall, its hardwood floor well-scuffed by foot traffic. The walls were painted a creamy beige, rather dull but functional. At the end of the vestibule, the hall narrowed to a passageway, leading to other parts of the house.

Kara looked around her. To the left was a closed door. A bit farther down, on the same side, she caught a glimpse into the dining room. A massive breakfront and long rectangular table almost filled the room.

To the right was an enormous room, a combination living room and den, dominated by a big granite fireplace. Above the fireplace was mounted the head of a moose. A baseball cap hung jauntily from one of its antlers. There was a wall of windows which undoubtedly offered a spectacular view during the daylight hours, although all that was visible now was the vast blackness of the night sky. The other walls were paneled with a dark wood, giving the room the feel of a rustic, oversize cabin.

A young boy and girl lay on big bright floor cushions in front of a large-screen television set. Neither child looked up when Mac and Kara entered. Not even Tai’s indignant howls drew a glance from them.

“There are Clay and Autumn,” Mac murmured. “They love TV. It’s the one thing that can keep them occupied for hours. I bought a satellite dish after they moved in so they could always find something to watch. We’ve seen everything from Mexican soap operas to rugby meets in Australia.”

He’d bought a satellite dish after the kids had arrived to keep them entertained? Kara pondered that one. Though she made no claims as an expert in child psychology, incessant TV-watching didn’t strike her as an ideal way to spend a childhood. What about reading and playing indoors and out, what about activities with other kids?

But Mac sounded sincerely proud of his efforts to keep the children happy. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that round-the-clock viewing, however diverse, might not be in their best interest.

“What are they watching now?” Kara asked, wondering which nation could be held accountable for the pandemonium currently roaring on the screen.

A number of very scantily clad young women were running in circles screaming, while a gang of menacing young toughs in black leather terrorized them. It was a veritable festival of blood and mayhem, and Clay and Autumn watched raptly.

“Hey, kids, what’s on?” asked Mac.

“A really good movie,” young Clay replied, without turning his attention from the set. “Biker Vampires Go To College.”

“Ah, an educational film,” Mac remarked dryly.

“The biker vampires got into the sorority house and hid in the attic till nighttime,” Autumn explained. “When I go to college, I’m keeping a cross and some holy water right beside my bed, just in case. Ohhh!” She hid her face in the pillow as one particularly graphic scene flashed across the screen.

“Won’t that give them nightmares?” Kara murmured. “It’s so gory, it’s sort of making me queasy.”

“It’s just fake blood,” Clay piped up reassuringly. “There aren’t any real vampires.”

“Sometimes real killers pretend to be vampires and drink people’s blood, though,” Autumn interjected with relish.

Mac winced. “Turn that off and come here and meet Kara. She’s a—uh—a friend of mine.”

When neither child moved to do his bidding, Mac crossed the room and switched off the set. Two small scowling faces turned to Kara. Clay’s was covered with drying, crusting lesions which had been swabbed with some pinkish lotion.

“Did I mention that Clay is recovering from chicken pox?” Mac asked a little too heartily. “He was out of school all last week, and will probably have to miss most or all of this week, too.”

“And you need someone to stay with him while you’re working,” Kara surmised. No wonder he was desperate! Poor Mac had been cooped up with a sick child for a week and was facing the prospect of still another. She was beginning to understand his impulsive action in sending for a wife candidate. She felt genuine sympathy for his plight, but that was certainly not grounds for marriage!

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