Xenophobe

"Thank you," Bob said politely and handed the cards back to the girl.

"Now where my daddy go?" Eunice asked as Norma clung to her.

"He's down at St. Elizabeth's Lock-up; had him a little altercation," Bob admitted. "You got anyone you can call?"

"Call for what?" Eunice asked.

"Well, y'all can't stay here by yourselves, huh?" Bob asked.

"Why not? I'm eighteen and she's twenty yeah," Eunice asked.

"Oh? Oh, okay then," Bob said as the paramedics lifted the gurney and began to wheel it as quickly as they could toward the retaining wall.

Norma and Eunice looked on as everyone quickly dispersed. Finally, Eunice forced Norma to assume Alton's role and assist her in pulling the three logs onto dry land.

Then they went inside their shack and waited for their father.

As darkness fell, Norma fixed their supper.

At the DeGarde Sheriff's office, Bob stormed into the precinct office.

"Who the fuck put Alton Theriot in with three African-American prisoners?" he bellowed, vein in his forehead throbbing with rage.

Everyone turned and looked at Vernon Brown.

"Figures, my office. NOW!" Bob snarled.

"I hope he didn't get himself hurt?" Officer Vernon Brown fought down the smirk.

"No, one of them is unconscious and the other two are begging to be put in another cell," Bob smirked back.

"What?" Vernon asked, shocked.

"Let me ask you something, Officer," Bob asked, smirking at Vernon's surprise.

"Yeah?" Vernon asked.

"Alton been black or his two girls black, you'd been so ugly to them?" Bob asked.

"I um..." Vernon said.

"Or if the victim been another coon ass, you lock Alton in a cell with three of the worst gang bangers we got?" Bob went on.

"That has..." Vernon protested.

"From here on out, Officer Brown, you better tread very carefully," Bob warned, signifying that their conversation was over.

At the shack, Eunice helped Norma clean up after their supper, and then the two girls again sat at the table, not knowing what else to do.

Finally Norma said, "Turn the radio on, huh?"

"You turn it on," Eunice countered.

"You right there," Norma countered.

Eunice finally did and they sat and listened in silence, not even dancing to any of the songs.

After a couple of hours, Eunice declared bed time and the two got ready.

"You think Daddy okay?" Norma finally dared to ask.

"How I know?" Eunice answered, equally worried, fearful.

In the night, the two girls held each other tightly.

Chapter 4

Brandon Johnson was Alton's court appointed lawyer and at first had encouraged Alton to simply plead guilty to aggravated assault. When Alton loudly asked Officer James Kowalski if he could have a different lawyer, Brandon decided to actually pay attention to his client.

"And you say there was a gun?" Brandon asked.

"I done said that three times yeah," Alton spat.

"Officer, may I have the lot number of that gun?" Brandon asked James and the policeman nodded curtly.

"All right, you'll be arraigned at ten o'clock; we're going to plead 'not guilty' and I'm going to ask that you be released on your own recognizance," Brandon said, getting to his feet so that he could hurry and meet with his next client.

"Uh huh," Alton said.

In his office, Buford Theriot booted up his computer, logged onto the Internet, then indulged in a past time of his. He first checked the local obituaries.

Mrs. Glenda Woodall, aged seventy nine, had passed away, her funeral would be held at Resurrection Baptist Church in Baylor Lake. She had been Buford's sixth grade teacher at Bienville Middle School and had been a very spiteful, harsh woman. He toyed with the idea of going to the funeral just to tell the old bat that, despite her predictions, he had amounted to something in life.

Then he looked through the police blotters, smiling at the usual 'drunk and disorderly conduct' arrests that had occurred over the weekend. Then he sat upright.

Buford reached for his telephone, then hung it up, logged onto the White Pages of the Internet and looked up St. Elizabeth's Parish Courthouse Clerk of Court's phone number.

"And the arraignment's at ten?" he affirmed.

"What's up?" Clark Duhon, the 'Duhon' of Timmons, Duhon and Associates asked from the doorway of Buford's office.

"My cousin, the one makes all them pirogues been arrested," Buford answered.

"Oh," was all Clark said as Buford checked his calendar.

"I don't have any appointments until two o'clock; it all right if..." Buford asked.

"GO," was Clark's answer.

In the noisy courtroom, Alton sat, waiting his turn. Years of hunting and trapping had taught him the value of patience. He did wish that the people around him had also learned that lesson.

His name was called, Brandon stood and stated that his client wished to plead 'not guilty' and asked for no bail.

"Your Honor, this was a vicious attack; the victim is still unconscious and..." Sarah Guillory, the Assistant District Attorney called out.

"My client acted in self-defense; the alleged victim pulled a nine millimeter handgun on him," Brandon countered.

"Oh," Sarah said, looking at her print-out.

"Bail is set at..." Judge Steven Hill intoned.

"Wait a minute; there's no mention of any gun," Sarah interrupted the judge.

"Lot number JB six four two four two," Brandon smirked, showing Sarah the receipt Officer James Kowalski had provided.

"As I was saying," Judge Steven Hill dryly commented. "Bail is set at thirty thousand; next case please."

"Thirty thousand? Where I'm get that?" Alton cried out.

"I have it," Buford said, getting to his feet.

"Man!" Alton said, happy to see a friendly face in the crowded room.

In the shack, Norma somberly fixed their lunch. Eunice was outside working on the three logs they'd dragged home.

It had been two days since their father had been home, two quiet, fearful days.

Outside, Eunice rolled the three logs so that the sun could dry the wood. She had already completed the pirogue her father had been working on; his arthritic hands were slowing him down. The interior had already been coated with Tung oil.

In his car, driving south, Buford was trying politely to refuse Alton's invitation to lunch at his home. The man smelled horrible and Buford was sure anything the man, or his daughter Norma, would cook, would be just as unappetizing.

"Man, little bit of oil and some corn meal, my Norma? She do it right!" Alton bragged.

"Damn it, man, I put down thirty six hundred bail; haven't I paid enough?" Buford mumbled under his breath.

He parked next to Alton's battered, rusted truck and grudgingly followed the man to the decrepit shack.

"Man, looks like you was better off in jail," Buford thought to himself.

He gingerly climbed up the steps to the door; the stairs looked ready to splinter away from the shack.

"Daddy!" Norma happily screamed when Alton entered the shack.

Buford stepped onto the plywood floor and cringed as the wood sagged underneath his weight. He was sure the wood would give way and he would plunge into the brackish waters beneath the shack.

Buford looked up from his feet as an attractive blonde hug his cousin. If Alton's smell bothered her, she did not let it show as she clung to him, babbling happily.

"Man, cher, missed you yeah," Alton said and kissed the girl on her lips.

"Oh, Cher! This here? This is my cousin! This here's Buford Theriot!" Alton said, introducing Buford to Norma. "Norma, you seen him when you was real little; probably don't remember no."

"Hi," Norma said shyly, angling slightly behind her father.

She looked at the handsome man, with his dark hair well groomed, smooth face, warm brown eyes and good clothes and felt self-conscious.

"Now don't be like that," Alton laughed. "He family yeah."

"Daddy!" Buford heard another girl shrill and turned as a stunning brunette entered the shack and ran to embrace Alton.

Buford's cock hardened as he ogled the girl's muscular, tanned buttocks that peeked out from the short cut offs the girl wore. Her long brown hair hung down, very nearly touching the floor but the curtain of hair did not obscure Buford's view of her tanned legs, gorgeous backside, or cute feet.

"And this here's Ooni," Alton said, turning Eunice to face Buford.

Buford stared into the girl's intelligent hazel eyes; saw her snub nose and full red lips. Her mid section was bare in the ripped tee shirt she wore and he admired her flat belly and small breasts. Her pubic mound was displayed prominently in the snug shorts she wore and he could see a few tendrils of brown hair escaping through the legs.

Eunice felt a lurch as she stared at the handsome, well dressed stranger and she blushed hotly.

"This here's my cousin Buford; he the one sell them pirogues," Alton made the introductions.

"Man cher, you fixing stay for lunch?" Norma asked, still clinging to her father.

Buford realized that what he was smelling, now that Alton was six feet away from him, was causing his stomach to grumble slightly.

"You got enough then yeah," he agreed, not taking his eyes from Eunice's face.

Throughout the lunch, Buford kept looking at Eunice and noticed that quite often; she was sneaking peeks at him as well.

"All right, I really must go; I got an appointment at two," Buford finally said after his third cup of far too strong coffee.

"Man thanks again," Alton said sincerely.

Buford looked over two where the two girls were cleaning the kitchen area and almost blew a load in his shorts; Eunice was bent over, putting the cast iron skillet on a bottom shelf and her buttocks were on full display. The threadbare crotch threatened to burst and a good portion of her pubic hair was on display. Norma was likewise bent over on the other side of the stove, putting the large can of shortening on a shelf. The front of her tee shirt billowed open and Buford could see one of her light brown nipples, large and fat.

"Any way I pay you back..." Alton was still prattling as Buford left the shack.

"Fuck, man, get a grip!" Buford admonished himself as he carefully walked back to his car, keeping an eye out for any snakes; Alton had warned him of the occasional copperhead that liked to sun themselves.

"You're almost forty years old," Buford continued with his self-debasement.

He drove back to his office, met with his clients then went home for the day.

His housekeeper, Mrs. Garcia, was supposed to have been there that morning but if she had been there, she had used very little disinfectant. The house smelled no cleaner than it had that morning when he left for work.

Two dishes that had been in the sink were now in the dishwasher so Buford did concede that Mrs. Garcia had come to the house that morning.

The living room carpet did not look vacuumed; his bedroom linens had not been changed.

"Forty dollars a week? For what?" Buford asked himself as he looked at the streaks on the mirror in the master bathroom.

Alton's house, although nothing to look at, had been nearly spotless. Immediately after the meal, Alton's two girls had not tarried; they had cleaned up. They had taken all the plates to the small sink, they had wiped the table, and they had scrubbed the pots.

In his mind's eye, Buford saw Ooni's tight ass wiggle and waggle as she wiped the table. He saw Norma's unrestrained breasts bounce as she scrubbed the pots. He saw Ooni bent over, putting that skillet on the shelf.

A stream of semen flooded out of his cock, splashing into his toilet bowl.

Chapter 5

Buford hated confrontations. He did not shy away from them, especially when he was right, but he didn't enjoy them.

Mrs. Garcia's stern face was unreadable as he handed her the two twenty dollar bills and demanded his house key back. She stoically removed the key from her large key ring and slid it across the desk, got to her feet, and stomped out of Buford's office.

A moment later, Tammy Timmons was in his office, berating Buford for upsetting her housekeeper. It had been Tammy that had recommended Mrs. Garcia to Buford; obviously Tammy took Mrs. Garcia's termination as a personal affront.

While she was haranguing him, Buford made a decision. The decision surprised him but he agreed with himself, it was a good decision.

"It's just that, with my cousin moving in, I don't need her any longer," Buford finally interjected when Tammy took a breath.

"Oh. I didn't know that," Tammy conceded.

"Didn't realize it was any of your business," Buford snapped.

"Well it's not, but..." Tammy faltered.

"If there's nothing else..." Buford snapped, clicking on his computer's keyboard.

At five thirty, it was already getting dark as Buford parked next to Alton's truck. He got out and balked; the sounds of a nighttime swamp coming to life was frightening to a man that had lived in the city all of his life.

True, the city was DeGarde, which was nestled in a bend of the Atchafalaya Basin, but the swamp stayed on one side of the levee, and Buford stayed on the other side.

He steeled himself and walked rapidly to the shack.

"Man who that is?" Alton grumbled as the knock sounded at the door.

He was already in a foul mood; Bobby Bordelon had come by asking about Norma, his arthritis was bothering him something fierce, and Ooni had already completed two rockers and a table to his one rocker.

She was working on the desk that Buford kept asking about and only had two drawers to make and it would be ready for coating.

Alton didn't like to admit it, but he was getting old. Ooni and Norma didn't mention it, but Alton hated the fact that Ooni was faster than him and more skilled than him. He didn't like admitting it, but even Norma was showing signs of real skill; she made dolls out of the scraps of wood and scraps of cloth and the dolls sowed real craftsmanship.

"Yeah?" he barked to the other side of the door.

"It's Buford yeah," Buford called out.

"Oh, hey, come on in; glad you stopped by!" Alton lied, swinging the door open.

Over dinner, even though Buford protested, he was given a plate full of rice and gravy and an unidentified meat, Buford explained what he wanted.

"Can't let Norma go," Alton mused aloud.

Norma stomped her foot in disappointment and anger.

Alton shot her a warning look.

"And I need Ooni here, at least on the weekend yeah," he continued to muse.

"That's fine; I can drop her off on Friday, pick her up on Sunday," Buford offered.

"And fifty a week, huh? Man, I don't know..." Alton said.

"How about this," Buford countered, looking into Eunice's hazel eyes. "Fifty a week and fifty more goes toward the thirty six hundred you owe me?"

"Hmm, that might work," Alton agreed, disappointed that Buford had not forgotten about the three thousand six hundred dollars he owed him.

After the meal, Buford again drank a cup of the almost burnt coffee while Eunice packed all of her clothing and her bow and arrows.

"I'm miss you yeah," a tearful Norma sniffled.

"Man, I be back on Friday yeah," Eunice said, hugging her sister.

"But that's a long time!" Norma whined.

The two sisters kissed again, and then Eunice followed Buford out the door.

"I'm cook and clean, right?" Eunice asked as Buford put her belongings into the trunk of the car.

"Yes, that's about it," Buford agreed.

"I'm good at fishing," Eunice offered. "And I'm better than Daddy at hunting; deer season coming up yeah," Eunice went on as Buford drove them to his house.

His cock strained mightily as he stole glances at her; she was still wearing the old cutoff denim shorts and a tee shirt that didn't reach the belt line of her shorts. She wore canvas tennis shoes on her small feet; they may have been white at one time. He could tell that she wore no bra under the snug tee shirt.

"Eunice, I want fish, I go buy it; Early's Grocery store gets it in fresh every day," Buford informed her.

"That a waste of money yeah," Eunice argued.

"So?" Buford smiled as he backed into his garage.

Eunice stared, wide eyed at everything in his kitchen and Buford had to nudge her to move her along.

She stared at her bed and the adjoining bathroom then looked up and down the narrow hall.

"My bedroom's right there," Buford offered, pointing.

"Where everyone else?" Eunice asked.

"Everyone else who?" Buford asked.

"Who all live here?" Eunice asked.

"No one," Buford said.

"Cher! You got all this house and it just you?" Eunice asked, shocked.

Buford did not know why, but he found himself telling Eunice about the one time he had been married; how he and Yvonne had planned on having at least three children until she discovered that she was in fact gay.

"Who her daddy is?" Eunice asked.

"What? Her daddy? Bob Kirkland," Buford shrugged.

"Well that why yeah," Eunice said. "Need you a good Cajun woman yeah."

At their shack, Alton had his fill of Norma's whining and stood up.

"Off," he ordered, pulling his belt through his jeans' loops.

"No Daddy, I be quiet now," Norma whimpered.

"Time be quiet ten minutes ago yeah," Alton said, snapping the belt. "Off and don't make me say it again no."

Already sobbing, Norma pulled her cut off shorts off then bent over, bracing her hands on the edge of the table.

Alton was angry; with himself for not being able to work as fast and as hard as he used to be able to, for not being able to pay Buford the full amount of the loan, at Norma for her incessant whining, at Bobby Bordelon for coming around, bothering him about Norma.

Norma wailed out loud when the leather belt smacked into her bare buttocks. She continued to wail as Alton lay the belt on her flesh twenty four more times. He only stopped because his arm was stiff.

She stayed in the position for several minutes; knowing better than to pull her hands off the table until her daddy said she could.

"You get up now yeah," a shamefaced Alton gruffly ordered.

She did and returned to her chair without bothering to put her shorts back on.

"Owww!" she wailed out when her tender backside met with the hard wooden seat of her chair.

"Maybe next time listen huh?" Alton said.

He got up, took Eunice's pillow off the bed and brought it back for Norma.

Norma gratefully accepted the pillow and sat down. Alton took his chair and Norma leaned her head on his shoulder. After a moment, Alton kissed the top of her head and rested his hand on her upper thigh.

Chapter 6

Buford dreaded five o'clock. At five o'clock, he would drive back to his house, put Eunice in the passenger seat of his car and drive her home.

Then he would return to his empty house and spend a weekend in desolate, deafening silence.

The first morning with Eunice in the house, he had awakened to the aroma of bacon frying and coffee brewing.

Eunice had asked him what time he got up and when he told her 'seven o'clock' she had shook her head.

"Wasting half the day yeah," was all she said.

He staggered into the kitchen to the sight of a eighteen year old girl in snug tee shirt and panties cooking scrambled eggs, far too much bacon, far too many pieces of buttered toast and a large saucepan of water and coffee grounds.

She turned, looked at him with her beautiful hazel eyes and smiled happily.

She fixed him a cup of coffee by straining the content of the saucepan through a paper towel, heaped too much food onto a plate, then quickly fixed her own plate and they sat and ate together.

"What time you home for lunch?" she asked as he left the table, groaning.

"Not," he said. "I'll get something at the office."

At lunchtime, he had called her.

Where's your line?" she demanded.

"My what?" Buford asked.

"Your line, your line, where you dry your clothes at?" she asked, exasperated. "I been all over your yard; there ain't no line no so where you dry your clothes?"

"In the dryer," he said. "I'll be right home."