THE CAT'S MAW

CHAPTER V

V:  OF FORTS AND FALLING

As the tractor rumbled past the garden, Billy waved to his mother. She paused for a truce in her battle with deep-planted carrots and called out to him. 

"Close your eyes!" she hollered, covering her face with dusty garden gloves.

Billy played along, and did the same.

It wasn't anywhere near Christmas, and he'd already wrecked his birthday presents in the accident, so Billy wasn't expecting much of anything. Maybe they made him his own garden plot — a clever bit of blackmail that would assure productive (and pickled) contributions in the future.

The engine coughed, and the tractor lurched to a stop.

"Can I look now?" Billy said.

"Just a minute," Stanley stepped down from the driver's seat and opened the trailer door.

Billy felt himself slide out of the trailer and then his father's arms reach under to lift him, one supporting his legs and the other his back. As he was carried a few steps into the breeze, Billy caught a whiff of sweat and earth and drugstore aftershave — Stanlay Brahm's scents of summer.

The footsteps came to a halt.

"How about now?" Billy said.

"Nawwww...you wouldn't like it," his father said, clamping his own hand over Billy's face.

"Oh, come on!" Billy twisted in his father's arms, freeing his face for a look.

At first, because he was facing down, all he saw was the sandpit. But, as he turned, he could see thick wooden posts sticking out of it. And beams between the posts. And overlapping planks attached to the beams to form a floor, four walls, and a flat roof.

It was a fort.

"Oh my God," Billy said, staring slack-jawed at the structure. "You made this?"

"First, watch the language. We're not religious," his father chided. "Second, what do you think I was doing last weekend, and after work all week?"

"Golfing?"

"A bit beyond our budget this summer," his father said. "But it was a golfing buddy that gave us all the wood. That's what they call 'networking'. Meanwhile, this'll give you something to do while you heal up, instead of being stuck in the house."

"It's amazing," Billy said, and he meant it. "I can come out here by myself?"

"That's the idea. Instead of wearing a groove in the carpet, you can get some exercise gimping up here." He patted Billy's cast and set him down on his feet, leaning against the tractor. "That way, your mother doesn't have to drive the tractor, which is–"

"A waste of gas," Billy hobbled towards the ladder that led up to the entrance. It was more step-like, with wide boards spaced between two angled struts. It would allow him to climb up without his crutches, even with a backpack on.

"I know, I know," his father said, "She can be a stickler, but saving money helps to pay for these..."

He reached into a burlap sack in the tractor's cab, pulled out two navy blue bricks of plastic, and gave one to Billy. The boy was quick to realize what he held in his hands.

"Walkie-talkies!" Billy said, playing with the buttons and dials until the receiver made a squawwwk. "I wanted these for my birthday."

"We know. You told us. Many times." His father slid open the battery panels and checked the connections. "We ordered them a couple of months ago from the hardware store but they came in late. Sorry, kiddo – these things happen."