This is episode forty-nine of the novel Two Tamas in Paradise. There are fifty episodes. This is the fourth novel in the Trace Troy South Pacific Adventure series.
It may now be purchased on Amazon. It is available in paperback or Kindle digital format.
A Chat with Coyote
An hour out to sea, The Tramp Islander cut through the dark waters and split the waves. Trace walked around the pilothouse and looked out all the windows. His suspicion rested short of paranoia. Because there might be a possibility of someone desperate enough to follow.
He heard the creak of steps coming up the companionway and leaned to see who.
“Hey, Coyote,” Trace said. “Can’t sleep?”
“I’m starting to wind down,” Coyote said. “I wanted to see how you were doing.”
“There’s something about the sea that can set you on edge or calm you into a dream,” Trace said. “All that back there might as well be a thousand miles away.”
“What?” Coyote said. “You mean that back there. You’re dad and I have seen a lot tougher things than that.”
“I’m sure you have,” Trace said.
“I can’t begin to tell you how good of time I’ve had,” Coyote said. “I’m afraid it’s all coming to an end. I can feel it.”
Trace grinned. “You mean, you and Dad can’t stir up enough of something to keep our blood pressure up.”
“Don’t tempt us,” Coyote said.
“You know something,” Trace said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man as fast as you back there. You had that pistol out of his hand in a blink.”
“I have slowed a little,” Coyote said, “but,” he smiled, “I had some pent-up energy too. That’s a game we played when we were kids—not with real guns, cap pistols. We used to hold cap pistols to our heads. If you didn’t get it in time, made your ears ring; sometimes pert-near all day.”
“Are you going back after we get to Suva?” Trace said.
“Sounds like I’m being fired,” Coyote said.
“Nah,” Trace said, “you work three times more than you’re paid.”
“Well, then,” Coyote said, “I guess we’re talkin’ raise. All kiddin’ aside, I haven’t given it a whole lot of thought. I’m enjoying myself. And I enjoy ranchin’ too.”
“The one thing I remember about you,” Trace said, “I don’t think there’s anything you don’t like.”
“Mincemeat pie,” Coyote said, “I don’t like mincemeat pie.”
“Nobody likes mincemeat pie,” Trace said. “How do you think Sage likes it here?”
“Don’t tell me he’s fired,” Coyote joked. “Seriously, it’s been good for him. I’m glad you thought about him when you needed a man.”
“Well,” Trace said, “I couldn’t think of anybody else. I trust only my dad and grandpa more.”
“You know me and Sage had a fallin’ out about a year ago, didn’t ya?” Coyote said.
“I didn’t know that,” Trace said. “He never said a word.”
“When Adam said he was coming here, and asked me if I’d like to come, I was packed and ready the same day,” Coyote said. “Of course, it was another three weeks before we got on the plane, but I was ready. I never want a word to come between us ever again.”
“The work isn’t too hard for you, is it?” Trace said.
“If you love what you’re doing, you’ll never work a hard day in your life,” Coyote said. “I’m here with Sage, Adam, Makani, and you, it’s not work. It’s a bunch of men doing what has to be done.”
“I’m glad it’s good for you,” Trace said.
“Are you afraid that if I go, I’ll take Sage with me?” Coyote said.
“I know I’ll have to replace Sage someday,” Trace said. “Maybe he’ll stay here as long as I do. He’s not meant to be my foreman or first mate. He’s a leader. He takes charge. Someday, he’ll be running your ranch. He has enough money to buy a good ranch, now.”
“I don’t want this to end,” Coyote said. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to stay on for a few more trips.”
“It’s fine with me,” Trace said.
“How are you and Adam doing?” Coyote asked.
“We’re fine,” Trace said. “This has been good for both of us. Dad wanted to come back here. I sort of think he left something here, and wants to find it. If you know what I mean.”
“I think so,” Coyote said. “Over the years, he’d mention the South Seas. He always said that me and him should go here sometime. He stopped talking about it until a couple of months ago. And here we are. I think it’s good for me and him. We’ve always been good friends. Friendships are going in one direction or another—together or apart.”
“We have over twenty-two hundred miles ahead of us,” Trace said. “There’s an island, Niue, it’s about fourteen hundred and fifty miles away. We’ll stop there.”
Coyote ruffled Trace’s hair. “Wake me when we get there.” He climbed down the companionway.
‘I wonder if Coyote has a good foreman,’ Trace thought. He chuckled. ‘He’s got a wife as good as any foreman.’
Trace checked his course and adjusted starboard three degrees.
The sound of the waves crashing against the hull and the wind howling through the sails gave Trace a sense of tranquility and good.
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