Cat. R C Hilty
There’s a local contest coming up pretty soon, entry fee isn’t much. It is limited to rimfires.”
“She’d love it.”
“I’ll give her rifle back to her today when she is done. Ya know, I have to say, I haven’t seen many rifles like that with a scope.”
“She would put a scope on a slingshot if she could. She’ll be glad to hear she gets her rifle back. You’d thought she lost a family member when the warden kept it.”
Judge Bean laughed. “Well, we’d better get back and see how she’s doing.”
“Yeah, I guess we’d better. Thanks for the coffee.”
“You’re welcome.”
*****
The benches were in need of new paint. Cat scraped off the loose paint, sanded the rough spots, and put on a good primer coat. After she applied the finish coat, she stepped back admiring her work. Talking out loud, “That looks a lot better. I did a good job, if I do say so myself.”
She looked at the other benches, which really looked terrible now. “I might as well start on the next one.” She placed a “WET PAINT” sign by the bench she had just finished and moved all her stuff over to the next bench. There were a few clouds in bright sunny sky. She went to work on the second bench. The temperature was rising. It was definitely going to beat the seventy-degree mark forecast. Sweat kept getting in her eyes. A nice breeze would be welcomed about now.
An old man carrying a newspaper walked up to Cat and rudely asked, “What are you doing?”
Cat thought to herself, You blind or what? She turned toward him and asked, “What’s it look like? I’m building a doghouse.”
“No, you’re not! You’re painting the benches!”
“Then why ask?”
“Don’t get smart with me, girly. I come to town every Saturday morning, buy a newspaper, sit on this bench, and read my paper. Now you’ve painted it, and I can’t sit there. You must be new here because everyone in town knows my routine on Saturdays.”
Being called girly was one sure way to get Cat riled up. She really didn’t want to be here in the first place. The bench looked real nice, and all he could do was complain about it. The thought of wishing she had not put the sign up crossed her mind. She also thought to herself, Sometimes it is difficult to give respect to older people as I have been taught.
She looked at the old man and replied, “It’s not like that’s the only bench in the park.”
“I always sit on that one.”
“Well, you’ll just have to pick another.” She held back calling him an old goat.
“Oh, all right, just remember, that’s my bench.”
“You want me to paint your name on it?”
“Just stay away from me.”
“No problem, have a nice day.”
The old man walked over to a bench as far away from Cat as he could get and still stay in the park.
Judge Bean and Dave walked up to Cat just as the old man was leaving.
Dave asked, “Well, Cat, how’s it going?”
“Not too bad till that old man came up and started yelling at me for painting his bench. I wish I hadn’t put up the ‘wet paint’ sign, then he would have really had something to complain about. Who is that old coot anyways?”
Judge Bean answered, “That would be grumpy Mike.”
“I’ll say.”
“He lives not too far from your place. It is really a nice place, well kept, has a three-acre pond…has plenty of game there also. It is hard to see his house, the driveway is pretty well hidden. He used to let people hunt and fish on his place. After his wife died, he wouldn’t let anybody on his place except his son. He wasn’t always that way. After he retired, he and his wife used to come to town every Saturday morning. They would stop by the diner and get a newspaper, a couple of doughnuts, coffee, and sit on that bench. He really enjoyed that.”
Cat was starting to feel bad.
Judge Bean continued, “He was a sniper in the Marine Corp, served three tours in Vietnam. After he was discharged, he built a gunsmith shop. He enjoyed long-range precision shooting. He would go to Camp Perry every year to compete. His son would make it a point to go with him every year after his wife died. He was the only family Mike had left. Five years ago, his son was killed by a drunk driver. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. He became very bitter. His son joined the service after the Towers got hit, served in Afghanistan and Iraq, then came home and got killed by a drunk driver.”
Cat asked, “Did he still go to Camp Perry after that?”
“He competed the next year. The year after that he went, but didn’t compete. After that, he quit going. He stays home now, only comes to town on Saturdays to get what he needs. He has a routine… He drops his grocery list off at the store, buys a paper, and reads it in the park. When he’s done, he stops at the store, picks up his groceries, and goes home. Don’t see him again till the next week.”
“Does anybody ever visit him?”
“People have tried but given up. Some are scared of him. I go up and check on him once in a while. He just wants to be left alone till he can join his wife.”
“That is so sad. Would he hurt anybody?”
“No, his bark is worse than his bite.”
“So he is a good shot and knows a lot about long-range shooting?”
“When Mike was competing in the local shoots, the best anyone else could place was second.”
As Cat was working on the second bench, she was beating herself up on how she had treated Mike. Not only did she make him even bitterer, but here was a guy that could probably teach her everything she would ever need to know about long-range shooting and then some. Again, her temper got in her way.
*****
Judge Bean stopped by in the afternoon. Cat had finished four benches.
He said, “I’ll have to say, you did a fine job. These benches never looked better. It sure makes the rest of them look bad.”
“Thank you.”
As Cat was putting the stuff back into the truck, she started thinking to herself, I probably did too good a job. I am sure they will find some reason for me to do community service till all the benches are done.
Dave came back. “Well, Cat, ready to drop this stuff off at the garage and head home?”
“Yeah, this has been an eventful day.”
“That it has. Want to stop and get some ice cream on the way home?”
“Aren’t you afraid that will spoil my supper?”
Dave laughed. “No, I ain’t seen anything to spoil your supper.”
Cat grinned. “You know I kinda feel bad for that old guy.”
“Well, you didn’t know.
“Yeah, I know. I would sure like to get to know him.”
“Your conscience bothering you, or is it because he knows a lot about shooting?”
Cat smiled, “A little of both.”
“I see. If there’s a way, I’m sure you’ll find it.”
By the time they got home and had supper, Cat was dead tired. She didn’t have any trouble sleeping that night.
*****
A few weeks had passed since Cat’s community service when she entered a local shooting