The High Calling Page 4

  “The title? You have a title?”

  Parker seemed uncomfortable. “Well, as a matter of fact, there is a title involved. It doesn’t mean too much, though.”

  “So . . . what is it?”

  “My father is a baron—Lord Braden. When he dies, I’ll have the title.”

  “I’m terribly impressed. I’ve never spoken to the son of a baron before.”

  “It’s not that important. It’s a pretty lowly title, in fact. I’m just an ordinary manager of an airplane factory who raises cattle on the side. Please don’t make a fuss over the title.”

  “You manage your father’s factory? You didn’t tell me that.”

  “Some people get all caught up in jobs and titles. That’s why I didn’t tell you before. I just wanted you to treat me like a normal person.”

  Kat tried to pry more out of him, but he resisted, steering the conversation back to her family.

  “I rather like your stepmother’s way of finding a husband,” he said.

  “It’s a wonderful story, isn’t it?”

  “It is. I’ve never heard another quite like it. Do you plan to use the same technique?”

  “In a way I do.”

  Startled, Parker turned and studied her face. It was hard to see her eyes in the moonlight, but he noticed the richness of her expressive, clean-edged lips. He could not help also noticing the lovely turn of her throat and the perfect fit of her dress. The moonlight ran over the curve of her shoulders, and her face was a mirror that changed as her feelings changed. She wasn’t smiling, but the the hint of one was tugging at the corners of her mouth.

  Parker Braden felt himself stirred by her in a way that startled him. She was tall and shapely, and as young as she was, her eyes mirrored some sort of wisdom. She gazed at him silently, and he knew that a woman’s silence could mean many things. He was not sure what it meant in her, but it pulled at him like a mystery. He only knew at that moment that she was a young woman with a great deal of vitality and imagination and beauty.

  “And that surprises you,” she finally said, “that I’m waiting for God to send me a husband.”

  “Actually it does. It’s a wonderful story about your stepmother and your father, but do you think that sort of thing can happen to anyone?”

  “I’m not sure, but I’ve set my heart on following whatever it is God has for me.”

  The heavy air of summer moved against Parker with a sweet and winey odor. The silver disk overhead diluted the darkness and suddenly he felt the immensity of the skies, but he ignored it, for he was fascinated by Katherine Winslow. “So you will wait until God brings a man into your life, and then you’ll marry him?”

  “It’s more than that, Parker,” she whispered. Her lips were soft and vulnerable as she spoke, and her skin was like alabaster in the pale light that bathed them. “I know that God has something for me to do. I sense that He has a high calling for me, and I intend to find out what it is.”

  Parker was moved by her speech. “I say, that’s a wonderful aspiration.” He reached out and took her hand. He raised it to his lips and kissed it but didn’t release it. “I’ve never met a woman like you.”

  Kat was startled by the gesture, and her face grew warm. “Nobody has ever kissed my hand before.”

  He smiled. “I kissed the queen’s hand once, but yours is much better.”

  “Wait a minute. Don’t work your wiles on me.” She pulled her hand back, but they both laughed.

  “I’m afraid we should be heading back,” he said, rising from the log and pulling Kat to her feet. “I want to hear more about this high calling of yours, but it’s getting late. I’ll surrender to Mr. Lee tonight. He seems to be set for a long evening. But would you let me come back tomorrow?”

  “That would be nice.”

  “Perhaps we should arrange a secret meeting place. If we don’t, I have a feeling that Mr. Brodie Lee will be there waiting for us.”

  Kat laughed and shook her head, her tawny hair falling free over her shoulders. “Yes, we’ll run away and hide from Brodie.”

  She tilted her chin up in contemplation. “Say,” she said, “I have an idea. Are you up for an adventure?”

  “Um, yes . . . I guess so.”

  “I’ll talk to Clint in the morning and see if he’ll join us. We’ll give you a real taste of the United States, Georgia style!”

  The two started back toward the house. They were met by Sergeant, the large bluish-gray dog that sniffed them thoroughly as he investigated them. When Kat patted his head, he followed the pair back to the house.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Never Trust a Limey on a Coon Hunt!”

  Lewis leaned across the fence, Parker towering beside him, admiring the herd of black cattle grazing in the field. The sight of the sleek animals always gave Lewis a sense of great satisfaction. He had never forgiven himself for losing everything he had possessed in the stock market, but somehow with the help of Clint Longstreet, he had made this farm into a paying proposition. At times he still marveled at how it had all come about, for he had known nothing about farming when they moved to Georgia. Clint, however, had been a great help, and the family had managed to build up the herd over the past eight years.

  “They’re such beautiful animals,” Parker remarked. “You must be very proud of them.”

  “I guess I am, but it’s really Clint who deserves the credit. And Missouri Ann. She never lost hope.” Lewis turned a quizzical glance on the tall Englishman. “You ever thought about getting yourself a wife, Parker?”

  “I suppose every man thinks about that.”

  “But no prospects?”

  He laughed, but the sound was not particularly humorous. “Plenty of prospects. There is no shortage of marriageable women in England.”

  “Or here either, for that matter.”

  “I thought when I first came here that Brodie Lee had an understanding with Katherine.”

  “Brodie? Not him! He plays the field. He’s a good man, though, and a great pilot from what I hear.”

  “I saw his show at the exhibition. He could do marvelous things with that airplane of his. But there’s nothing going on between him and Katherine?”

  “Why, no. She hadn’t even seen him for years. He left right after he graduated. Always been footloose.”

  The conversation soon turned to the conflicts in Europe and the various aircraft that were now being used. “It was terrible about the Hindenburg disaster, wasn’t it?” Lewis asked. He referred to the airship that had burst into flames a month ago, killing thirty-six people. It had been coming in for a landing in New Jersey when something had ignited the hydrogen gas as it was settling down toward earth.

  “An awful tragedy.”

  “Do you think the Nazis will use dirigibles in a war?”

  “Oh no. They tried that in the Great War,” Parker said with a shrug. “They were vulnerable even then. They wouldn’t last long now. But Hitler’s got plenty up his sleeve besides that. The world seems to be coming apart, doesn’t it? There’s Stalin killing people by the hundreds, everybody who’s in his way. Russia’s like a truck that’s lost its brakes on a steep incline.”

  “Hitler’s a maniac, all right,” Lewis agreed, nodding moodily. “He has the mind of a murderer. The only difference is he has the authority to kill thousands instead of just a few. You’re worried about your home, aren’t you, Parker?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid I am. It’s only a matter of time until we’re going to look up and see German planes coming at us from France.”

  “But France wouldn’t fight against England.”

  “No, but she can’t stand against Germany. I think Hitler will take her easily. This war will be lightning fast, and it’ll be won or lost by air power. The French can’t understand that, and our own people are just beginning to.”

  The two men turned and walked slowly back toward the house. “I hear you’ve agreed to go on that coon hunt with Clint and Kat tonight,” Lewis remarked.

>   “Yes. It sounds like a bit of fun.”

  Lewis laughed. “Have you ever hunted foxes? I hear Englishmen do that.”

  “Oh yes. It’s a little different from a coon hunt, though. You’re on horseback.”

  “What do you do with them when you catch them? You don’t eat them, do you?”

  “No, of course not. As a matter of fact, Oscar Wilde once described a fox hunt as the unspeakable in pursuit of the inedible. Just another of our foolish British habits. We have a lot of them.”

  “Well, if you like to run through the woods in the middle of the night, a coon hunt will be just the thing for you.”

  “I’m looking forward to it. It will be most entertaining, I’m sure.”

  ****

  “I don’t reckon you can hunt in them fancy threads,” Clint said with a grin. “You’d better come along with me.”

  Parker followed Clint into the house and up the stairs. When he turned into one of the bedrooms, Clint said, “I keep some of my old clothes up here. It’s handier than havin’ them over at my place, even though it’s just down the road.” He pulled some overalls off a hook, then a garish green-and-red shirt.

  “I say, that shirt would frighten a coon to death, wouldn’t it?”

  “I reckon it’s not exactly what you’d wear to meet the queen, but it’ll do for tonight.” He opened the closet door and pulled out a pair of well-worn work shoes. “You can try these on for fit too.”

  Clint left the room while Parker tried on the shirt and overalls. He put on the brogans too, which turned out to be just a bit large for him, but he managed to tie them on securely. He stood up and opened the door. “It feels like these overalls are falling off! There’s no belt.”

  “You’ll get used to it. I’ve worn them most of my life. Here, you can wear this cap.”

  Parker took the billed cap that said FORD across the front and snugged it onto his head. “How do I look?”

  “Like a limey tryin’ to look like an American.” Clint grinned. “Let’s show the rest of the party how you look.”

  They filed downstairs, where they found Kat waiting for them. She was wearing well-worn blue jeans, a light blue shirt, and heavy half boots. She laughed aloud at Parker.

  “Do I look that ridiculous?”

  “Yes, you do, but the raccoons won’t notice. Are you sure you want to do this, Parker?”

  “Certainly! One should investigate the customs of the aborigines in whatever country one visits.”

  Clint stared at him. “What did you just say?”

  “Never mind, Clint. Let’s go get some coons,” Kat said.

  ****

  Kat turned to Parker, who was puffing along in the dark woods beside her. He had a scratch on his right cheek and was hanging on to a sapling as they made their way up a steep slope. “Do you want to rest, Parker?”

  “No!”

  “Don’t be so proud. That’s the way you men are.”

  “I hate to be bested by a woman.”

  “Well, sometime I’ll go to England and go with you on a fox hunt. I’ll probably fall off the horse and you can feel superior again.”

  Parker released the sapling and smiled down at Kat. “I wish you would come to England. There’s so much there I’d like to show you.”

  She started to make a witty remark but saw the seriousness on his face. “Why would I go to England?”

  “To see me, of course. Maybe to teach us all more about American cattle.”

  She hesitated. “I’d like that, but I’m sure it would cost a great deal.”

  “It is rather expensive. You’d have to go on a ship. I wouldn’t trust one of those airplanes.”

  Suddenly Kat lifted her head. “Listen, the dogs have treed.”

  “They’ve done what?”

  “They treed a coon.”

  “How can you possibly tell that?”

  “By the way they’re barking.”

  “It’s a mystery to me. They still sound the same.”

  “You have to grow up with the sound to tell the difference. Come on, let’s see what they’ve treed.”

  The two hurried through the woods and came to where Clint was shining a flashlight up into a tree. “We got one,” he said. “We’ve got to get him down now.”

  “How does one do that?” Parker asked.

  “Well, I could shoot him, but I can’t see him. Somebody’s got to go up and shake him down.”

  “I’ll do that,” Kat said.

  “Oh no, let me,” Parker offered.

  “Not exactly in your line, Parker,” Clint said, dubiously scratching his jaw. “Let me do it.”

  “No, I’ll do it,” Parker insisted. “I can climb a tree well enough, I think. Besides, I wouldn’t know what to do with the scoundrel if one of you were up there shaking him out.”

  Clint laughed. “All right. Up you go. Knock him out of the tree, and the dogs will hold him until I can put him to sleep.”

  “I hate this part of it,” Kat said. “Let’s just let him go.”

  “No. Missouri Ann said to bring home a coon. She’s gonna feed it to Parker tomorrow.”

  Parker made a face and then leaped up, caught a branch, and pulled himself up. Once he was standing on the first branch, it was much easier. He kept climbing upward, pulling himself along, but he could not see anything that moved. “I can’t see him!” he yelled.

  “He’s up there over on this side,” Clint yelled. “I just saw his eyes glow.”

  Parker climbed up higher and then suddenly saw a form out on one of the branches. “Here he is, but how do I get him out of the tree?”

  “Go out on the branch. He’ll probably jump when you get closer.”

  “All right.” Holding tightly to an overhead limb, Parker moved out along the branch. The farther he went, the more insecure he felt, as the branch gave slightly under his feet. “I can see him, but I’m not sure he’s going to jump.”

  “Jump up and down on the branch. Get it to bouncing. He’ll have to go then,” Kat called back.

  “All right. I’ll try it.” Parker held tightly to the branch as he began carefully jumping on it. Suddenly he yelled, “There! He’s coming down!”

  As Parker scurried back toward the trunk, he heard the dogs yowling, but above their noise he heard Clint shouting something in a panic-stricken voice. “What is it?” Parker yelled as he shinnied down the tree and jumped to the ground. Kat was yelling and circling around Clint, who was rolling wildly around on the ground with the animal.

  “What should I do?” Parker yelled.

  He got no answer, but suddenly the animal took off running, and Clint rolled up to a sitting position. Kat beamed the flashlight on his face, and Parker was shocked to see Clint’s clothing ripped and a bleeding scratch on one side of his face.

  “You crazy limey! Don’t you know a wildcat from a coon!”

  “A wildcat? Was that what it was?”

  Clint got to his feet, his face registering disgust. He pulled out a handkerchief and pressed it to his cheek. “Yes, it was a wildcat. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Suddenly Kat began laughing. She had a great laugh, and Clint glared at her at first, but then could not help joining her. “Well, I’ve always said never trust a limey on a coon hunt.”

  “Let’s build a fire and give the dogs a break,” Kat said.

  “All right,” Clint agreed.

  “You’d better let me put some antiseptic on that cut,” she told Clint. “That wildcat’s claws might be infectious.”

  “All right, but if there’s anybody else going up a tree tonight, it’ll be me. Not you, Parker.”

  ****

  Kat and Parker sat together beside the fire, listening to the distant barking of the dogs. Clint had taken them out on another run. The moon lay far down in the sky, turned butter yellow by the haze in the air. Parker gazed at the tiny crystal spots in the sky while inhaling the sweet smells of the forest.

  He was sitting so close he could feel Kat’s a
rm pressed against his and could smell the faint scent of perfume.

  “I can’t get over the fact that your father is a baron,” she said.

  He shook his head. “I’ve told you that really doesn’t mean much.”

  “But it must mean something.”

  “Not really anymore. There was a time when it had some importance, but movie actors are getting titles now just for making a movie! Don’t give it another thought.”

  “But I bet your family is proud of the title.”

  “Well, Aunt Edith is. I suppose my parents are too. They see some sort of glory in the title passing down from grandfather to father to son.”

  “But won’t it please you when the title is yours?”

  “I really don’t think about it much. I’m more concerned with the situation in Europe turning into a full-blown war. When a man goes up against the enemy, it doesn’t matter whether he has a title or not. The only question is, can he stand under fire? In the heat of battle, a plumber has as much courage as a baron or a duke, when it comes right down to it.”

  “Do you live in a castle?”

  “Castle! Bless you, no! Who would want to live in one of those things?”

  Kat turned to him, her face expressive. “They seem so romantic.”

  “Not when you’re freezing! The only heat comes from enormous fireplaces, but that goes right up the chimneys. And they’re moldy and damp. No, the house we live in is no castle. And it’s only two hundred years old.”

  “Only two hundred! Why, that’s as old as my country!”

  “Yes, but things are different in England. It’s a nice house, and we’ve had bathrooms put in. That was a help.”

  “I’d love to see it.”

  “It’s a bit of a white elephant, really. It costs a fortune to keep it going. That’s where most of the profit from the factory goes—to keep the house in decent shape. We should have sold it years ago.”

  The two sat quietly listening to the dogs, the night’s darkness pressing in upon them. Suddenly a falling star made a brilliant white scratch across the ebony skies.

  “Did you make a wish?” Parker asked quietly.

  “I always do.”

  “I don’t suppose you would tell me what it was.”