There was, of course, nothing wrong at Amos and Molly’s when Cas and Nikki arrived there. Molly was on the porch working on a water color of the pasture next to the barn. The only element of it recognizable to Cas was the stone wall. The rest was a riot of color and abstract shapes that spun across the canvas like pinwheels. Looking at it made him dizzy.
“Leadfoot? Robert? Are you sure it was him?”
“It was him, Molly,” Nikki assured her.
“What’s that?” Cas asked, pointing at something in Molly’s painting that resembled a furball with some type of wing arrangement.
“What does it look like?”
“A furball with wings?”
“It’s a pixie.”
“Oh. A pixie. Of course.”
“They live in that bush next to the oak tree. Very troublesome they are sometimes.”
“I can imagine.”
Molly fixed him with a glittering eye. “You don’t believe in pixies, do you, young man?”
“Not usually. But in a place like this, I think I could believe in almost anything.”
“Yes,” Molly said gazing out over the pasture to the mountains beyond, a vista in which the hand of man was all but invisible and civilization was a bad dream, “you’re right. Anything is possible here.” She squinted at him. “What did you say your name was?”
“Cas. Girard.”
“Casper, I suppose?”
“Don’t spread it around. My mother liked the comic book when she was a girl.”
Molly nodded. “I’d say you’ve done as well as could be expected with a name like that.”
“So you have no idea why Robert was speeding up the hill?” Nikki interrupted to bring them back to business.
“Can’t say I have but I’m sure we’ll find out shortly. Whatever it is, it’s too big for Bobby to keep secret. He’s bound to blab it to somebody. You know Bobby.”
Amos emerged from the barn and walked across the drive toward the house. When he saw Nikki standing on the porch, the walk turned into a trot. “Nikki!” he boomed. He circled her small waist with his arms, picked her up as if she were a child and swung her around. Cas had to duck or her flying feet would have clocked him. “Ah, but you’re a sight for these old eyes.”
“Watch where you’re putting your hands, Amos,” Molly said.
“Too late, woman. Nikki already knows I turn into a dirty old man when I’m around her.”
“Dirty is right,” Molly snorted. “I was thinking about her. She may not know where your hands have been, but I do.”
“Oh, a little cowshit never hurt anybody.”
“Amos!” Nikki squealed, pushing herself away and slapping at her shirt. “You didn’t!”
“You never know. I might have.” He seemed to notice Cas for the first time. “And who might you be?”
“Casper,” Molly answered before Cas could get his mouth open. “He’s…visiting…Nikki for a little while.”
“Casper? Like the ghost?”
“We call him Cas,” Nikki said.
“And not a moment too soon. Casper. Helluva moniker to be stuck with, I bet. So. You two–? You know. Huh?”
“Honestly, Amos,” Molly said, “you’re as subtle as a bull in season. You might as well have asked them if they’re sleeping together.”
“Well?” Amos demanded. “Are you?”
“That’s none of your business,” Molly said, her patience wearing thin. “Pay him no mind, Nikki. He just does it because he likes to get people riled up. Gets a kick out of it. Ignore him and with any luck he’ll go away. They didn’t come to see you, Amos. They came because they saw Bobby high-tailing up the mountain at a hundred miles an hour and thought there was something wrong down here.”
“Robert? Our Robert? That’s strange. He drives like an old woman – 25 miles an hour and he hits the brake on every curve. Wonder what’s going on?”
Right on cue, the phone rang and Molly excused herself to go inside the house and answer it. “That’s probably him.”
Nikki took Cas’ hand and led him down the steps. “Well, we just came to make sure you were alright and you are so we’ll take off.”
“Don’t you want to wait and see what Robert’s gotten himself into this time?”
“I don’t think so,” Nikki laughed. “Him and Juliette Rose are so tight, I think maybe I’d rather not know.”
“Wise girl,” Amos said. “Come back when you can stay awhile. Miss you.”
Nikki blew him a kiss from the car and drove away. “Girl like that,” he said to himself, “he is one lucky sonuvabitch. Casper. Jesus, what a name.”
