Paul and his dad went for a late breakfast to Barney’s Diner after Paul had slept a few hours—with only one minor nightmare. Both had long ago agreed not to exchange any presents, and this Christmas morning hadn’t been any different. Frank was a little grumpy because his son hadn’t told him anything about last night’s events. Paul had just given him an enigmatic smile after he had returned to the ranch, shortly before sunrise.
“Don’t you trust me, son?” Frank complained.
“Dad, some things are like Christmas presents. Just a little more suspense.”
“Look who Santa dragged in,” Frank muttered.
Paul turned toward the door and waved to Biff, who came in with Patty and their father in tow.
Frank stared at his son. “Don’t tell me you will force me to sit down with the Forresters to make some sort of Christmas merry peace!”
“Dad, calm down. Trust me, it will be an interesting hour.”
The booth was a big one, and John, Patty, and Biff sat down opposite of the Trouble pair. The waitress came over, snapped some menus on the table, and filled two mugs with coffee. Patty just held up her finger, and the waitress went over to the counter and prepared a tea for her.
“Paul, Frank!” John Forrester nodded curtly, and Biff rolled his eyes.
“Merry Christmas, Patty,” Paul said.
“Is this awkward, or is this awkward?” Patty said. “Yesterday Biff tried to beat you up, and today you guys share secrets of a night spent in the wilderness.”
“You left out the gun part, but never mind.” Paul turned to Biff. “Have you told Patty?”
Biff shook his head. “Not a word, but she saw me when I came back to the house.”
Paul looked at his watch.
“Are you expecting anyone?” his father asked.
“Further developments,” Paul replied. Frank shrugged, John glowered, and Patty looked curiously between Paul and her brother.
The diner door opened with bling-bling chimes, and Sheriff Clarkson entered. He said, “Howya?” to Barney behind the counter, greeted the waitress, tipped his Stetson toward the Trouble and Forrester table, and sat down at the far end of the bar, looking at the menu. The waitress served him a coffee unasked; in Welcome, everyone was a regular.
The door opened again, and Ray entered. He also greeted the proprietor and was just about to sit down at the counter, when he saw the Forrester and Trouble families sitting in the booth. It looked as if he debated with himself what to do and then decided to walk over to say hi.
“Morning everyone. Patty!” Ray nodded curtly at his ex-wife.
“You want to join us for breakfast?” Paul asked. “I mean, you are almost still family. And it’s Christmas morning, peace to the world and all.”
“Is this okay with you, Patty?” Ray asked. Patty hesitated, briefly grimaced, then stared at Paul for a second, and finally nodded.
The waitress came back. As everyone was giving their orders, Patty mouthed, “What?” at Paul and rubbed her shin where Paul had kicked her discreetly. He just smiled to himself and ordered breakfast, too.
“What were you guys talking about?” Ray asked.
“The problems we have had the last weeks,” Biff said.
“The stuff we were talking about, Paul?” Ray asked.
“Yeah, the very same. Biff and I had a strange encounter last night. We were both out, independently, to catch the person or persons unknown who had been playing pranks on us.” Paul started his narrative.
“Successfully?” asked Frank Trouble.
“Partially. We caught an ex-Army guy called Karol Wisocky, in the act with a gas canister and all. He is broke, except for a rundown trailer at Sundance Park, a meagre Army pension, an old Ford pick-up, and some mint-new cash,” Paul continued.
“How much money?” Patty asked.
“Ten-thousand dollars.”
“Pay-off for the stuff he had been doing?”
“According to him, sort of a second installment. The first he had received last spring—about the time the incidents began.”
“And he told you that?” Ray asked.
“I persuaded him,” Paul said modestly.
Biff laughed aloud. “You should have seen it, Ray! Paul has this knife-throwing trick….” He stopped at a signal from Paul. Somehow he was embarrassed to have used the knife to scare Karol Wisocky.
“And he told you who had paid him and asked him to do all that stuff?” Frank Trouble looked seriously at his son, who realized that all eyes were on him now.
“Yes, he claimed it was you, Ray.” Paul looked straight at his childhood friend.
The silence that followed was heavier than a brick of iron.
“You must be kidding, Paul!” Ray said, his ears and cheeks turning red.
“Was he?” Paul looked at Ray. “Remember when we had our catching-up-on-old-times talk yesterday? I asked you what could be a motive for the trouble we are facing, and you came up with property prices, city-slickers, and agricultural corporations as your three best reasons. That was what gave you away. At the time, I didn’t have any clue myself. But last evening, when I was preparing my little night mission and had some hours to waste in Mallory, I came across some Internet articles on the reasons for the property boom in Montana. I can’t believe you simply forgot one of the top three reasons.”
“Mining!” John Forrester drawled.
“Correct. With today’s prices and our dependency on Chinese rare earths, which are ingredients to almost any high-tech toy from computer to smartphone, the value makes it economical again to reopen mines that were closed fifty years ago.”
“You must be kidding. What do I have to do with mining in Welcome? And on your property?” Ray broke into a sweat.
“Remember springtime? You were happily married to Patty, so half of Forrester Ranch would be under your control at some point. And, of course, the long-lost heir to the Trouble Ranch made it a real possibility that my dad would sell to you guys in a few years—and with our land, the former copper mine site.”
“But later wouldn’t cut it,” Frank said, staring at Ray. It was not a question.
Paul nodded. “Why not speed things up a bit by making a little trouble with the Troubles? Maybe bring old Frank to sell earlier than intended.”
“But why continue with our ranch, too?” Biff asked.
“When Patty and Ray broke up over the summer, his place at the table was suddenly gone. So, why not extend the concept and make both ranchers lose their interest in their land? And maybe have a little revenge on the side. Not only were annoying things happening … no, the neighborhood spirit was poisoned, too! It was only a matter of time until one of the old warlords would sell.”
“You guys are crazy. You can’t prove anything!” Ray pressed between clenched teeth.
“Well, on this merry Christmas morning, we only have the word of an unreliable ex-Army guy—and, of course, your very unbelievable lack of real estate economics know-how. But if we dug deeper, we probably would find a connection between you and one of the big mining companies that started buying up land and old sites around Montana. Maybe a consulting contract? Or a nice large bonus if you manage to bring one or the other ranch to a close with them?”
Ray started to get up, but Paul pressed his shoulder down with his good hand. “Stay put, Ray. We are not finished.”
“You can’t stop me leaving!” Ray said, shaking away Paul’s hand.
“I don’t want to stop you from leaving. In fact, leaving is exactly what I want you to do.” Paul sat back and stared at Ray. “This is how this goes down. Either you insist that you are innocent, and I will get up and talk to our Sheriff Clarkson over there. He will start investigating, build a nice case around you, and put you into jail….”
Ray’s eyes had become small slits in a red and sweaty face. He was breathing heavily. The other occupants of the table were silent in shock.
“Or you have one week to rearrange your business, pack up, and leave the town, never to return. Go to Butte, switch jobs with your partner, and build up the business there. If you ever come back, the Sheriff will know everything. You are a good salesman, you know the real estate business—you will be successful somewhere else.”
“And what about Kim?” Patty whispered.
“Both Ray and you will find a good explanation. I’ll leave it up to you guys to find an arrangement so that Ray can see her once in a while.”
Ray breathed heavily in and out. “Why are you doing this? Why not just give it to the Sheriff? Why your own pathetic style of screwed-up justice, asshole?”
Paul looked at his old friend, his old former friend. “Because I like Patty. She didn’t deserve you, but she also doesn’t deserve to have the father of her child in jail. Because I would like to give your daughter a chance to remember her dad as a decent guy.” Paul shrugged. “Because we were good friends a long time ago, and that should count for something. But that was then. And this is now.”
Ray was seething, but he calculated his score and his options. “Friend? You call me a friend? You are a pathetic war cripple.”
Paul was deadly quiet. “Laugh about it, Ray, but I have my code: country, family, friends, and then everyone else, in that order. By going against my family, you made me your enemy, friend or not. Now, what will it be, Ray? The Sheriff? Or Butte, Montana?”
All eyes were on Ray. The sweat on his face was mingled with tears. He took his napkin and toweled off both. Ray gave a last angry stare at Paul, looked at Patty, and then got up and walked out of the diner.
Both families where silent. Paul gave a small, sad shrug at Patty, who had tears on her face. John Forrester patted her hand, while Biff hugged her.
Frank Trouble looked at his son, and then at John. “John, I apologize. I’ve been a horse’s ass the last several months.”
John Forrester nodded. “Apology accepted. Let’s be good neighbors again. Like old times.” Biff, Paul, and Patty had to stifle laughs. “What?”
“Dad,” Biff said, “you never ever had a good time with the Troubles.”
“What do you young people know about the Troubles and the Forresters?” Frank said.
Paul said, “Remember? We grew up between you two slugging it out.”
John Forrester studiously ignored them and instead said, “Say, do you guys want to come over tonight for Christmas dinner? Shelly is invited, too, of course!”
Frank looked at Paul, who nodded. “Would you mind if we brought the Scrabble board? Christmas tradition, you know.”
Later in the car, driving back to the ranch, it started to snow.
“White Christmas,” Paul said.
“What was this country, family, friends priority all about?” Frank Trouble asked his son.
Paul, behind the wheel, said, “The soldier and spy life can be confusing. Sometimes I had to make decisions that were hard, harrowing … or cruel.”
“And country is really up on top? I mean, I vote GOP, but for the last fifteen years, it’s been hard to put country first.”
“That’s my code. And it’s not as if I was brainwashed to come to the priorities. It was more like a combination of common sense and experience. At first, country was pretty much at number three in my early Navy weeks, but then things started happening. Maybe I’ll tell you the stories one day. Then when I started working for the agency, I saw firsthand what damage state treason by someone from your family could do. For the last ten years, country has been on top for me. It helped me in the past to keep my head straight.”
After a few more miles, Frank asked, “And you would put your country in front of your old man? I mean, really?”
“Dad, are you a Russian sleeper?” Paul briefly looked over to his dad.
“Don’t joke about that. Of course not!”
“See, no conflicting priorities here. Don’t worry.”
Another mile of silence.
“Had I known, I would have become one, just to get your ass back home sooner,” Frank said.
Paul felt as close to home as he had ever felt in the last twenty years. Maybe you can’t come back to the same place you left, but you can always come home! he thought.
“Merry Christmas, Dad. I love you!” Paul said, meaning it.
“Merry Christmas, Son.”
*******************
That's it. Hope you enjoyed the story. After I finished the first Paul Trouble book, Troubleshooter, and it was clear that I had inspiration and material for new books in the series, I started thinking about Paul’s backstory. Where did Paul come from? How had his life been divided into three phases: youth, military, and intelligence agency? What were the formative events in his life? What did Paul Trouble care about?
Some of those questions will be explored in the novels published in the coming years, but others formed fragments that potentially did not fill a whole novel. Ten-thousand words arranged in four to nine chapters, taking place in simple settings, telling simple stories, but giving insights into Paul’s life—or the lives of the people that matter to him.
Amazon markets this format as a “novella,” and Trouble at Christmas is my first foray into novella territory, producing companion stories parallel to the original series. From a Trouble-universe perspective, this narrative starts right after "Troubleshooter" ended with Paul leaving for his US home to spend Christmas with his father, playing board games and reconnecting.
I hope you enjoyed this little insight into Paul’s past. Let me know if you did by leaving a review on the eSeller page where you bought your copy or here at Wattpad or...
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