Dead Peasants by Larry D. Thompson

looking for a little more happiness,” Jack mused.
    “Weren’t you happy in Beaumont?”
    “Sure, by almost any way you would measure happiness the answer would be yes. And it’s a little strange to talk about it. My dad and mother probably never even contemplated the word. My dad just worked across the river over there and brought home a weekly paycheck. My mother took care of the house and me. That’s what people did back in those days.”
    “Don’t kid yourself. That’s how most people live today, at least once you get out of Rivercrest and Shady Oaks.”
    Jack nodded his agreement as the day whispered into evening. Lights on the patio began to glow as the sun faded. Jack checked the ribs once more and went to the house to retrieve potato salad, baked beans and freshly baked bread. He insisted that Colby keep her seat as he prepared the table. When it was ready, he took a giant platter from under the barbecue pit and loaded it with ribs. He invited Colby to the table while he made one last run to the kitchen, returning with a basket of napkins and a bottle of red wine.
    “I think we’re ready. There are five napkins for each of us. Hope that’s enough.”
    Colby replied by picking up a rib and gnawing the meat from it before she even reached for anything else. “Wow. Absolutely fantastic. You use a special sauce?”
    “Yep,” Jack replied. “Family secret, handed down from my granddad to my dad and then to me. I spent most of yesterday making it, and while you’re a friend, you’re not special enough for me to divulge the recipe, not yet anyway.”
    “I understand about Texas men and their recipes. I dated a man once that had a chili recipe he wouldn’t reveal to anyone. He even won the chili cook-off at Terlingua one year.”
    Jack turned to Colby. “Now, that’s really impressive. People come from all over the world every year for that cook-off. I might be willing to trade him my barbecue recipe for his chili.”
    “No chance of that. He’s long gone. Moved to Arizona, I hear. On the other hand, I’ve got my own chili recipe that might be worth a trade.”
    They ate and made small talk. Jack wanted to talk about J.D. When they finished, Colby insisted on clearing the table and suggested that Jack take a seat on the next level down by the pool. When she came out, Jack rose from his seat and said, “Let’s try out the hot tub.”
    Colby turned to face Jack, their faces no more than a few inches from each other. Jack could smell her perfume again. “Look, Jack. I like you, and I’m really attracted to you. Only, I told you that I’m seeing someone. I won’t have a relationship with anyone else. I’m good for lunch and Starbuck’s and maybe an occasional dinner; but we’re just going to be friends.” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Is that okay?”
    Jack stepped back and shook his head. “I guess I don’t have any choice; so, yeah, it’s okay, but don’t expect me to give up. What does this guy do, anyway?”
    Colby turned away. “Let’s don’t talk about him. I’m going to be one of your best friends. Talking about him won’t accomplish anything.”
    Jack nodded his understanding as he concealed his frustration.

16
    Jacob Yates had risen to sales manager of a Buick dealership in Oklahoma City. Yates took an early retirement some twenty years ago when his wife developed ovarian cancer. As did most women with ovarian cancer at that time, she fought and lost. Jacob had few ties left to Oklahoma City; so he moved to Muskogee to be near his daughter, her husband and grandkids. He was a great babysitter, sang baritone in the church choir and volunteered at the community hospital. He lived in an older brick house on a tree-lined street where he managed to win “Yard of the Month” at least every year or two. He was so comfortable with the quiet life of Muskogee that he rarely locked his doors at night.
    Hawk checked into a Ramada Inn. He spent a week following Yates