Keeping Up With the Joneses

Part One

Author’s note:

This is the very first fanfic that I have written. When I first started going to Jix, I vowed to never, ever write a story. The muses had other ideas, and this story was born. It always bothered me that someone who had been married to Win Frayne could ever lower herself to marry Jonesy. This fan fiction is an attempt to explain why Katje Frayne ever made such a colossal mistake.

Chapter 1

July, five years before The Secret of the Mansion

It was a hot summer day in Albany, New York. Jacobson Jones wiped his sweaty brow with his arm. He hated working on days like these. He had inherited the truck farm from his father years ago. Not that the old man thought I’d make anything of it, Jake thought bitterly. He knew if his older brother had made it home from the war he would have inherited the farm instead. If Junior hadn’t kicked the bucket, Pop woulda left me zip, Jake thought scornfully. And no doubt Junior woulda made twice as much money as me.

All his life, Jake had lived in his brother’s shadow. John had been his father’s pride and joy. John was an all-American athlete. John made good grades in school without even trying. John got all the girls. No matter how hard he tried, Jake couldn’t live up to his father’s namesake.

Years ago Peggy Jones, Jake’s mother, had left her husband and two sons. None of them knew where she had gone, nor did they care to find out. According to John Jones, Sr., she was a good-for-nothing old whore. John Sr. doubted he was even Jake’s father. He had no love for the younger boy, only contempt for having to care for another man’s child.

“Yer just too sorry to be my boy,” John Sr. would sneer. “I don’t know why I have to feed somebody else’s mistake!” Jake vowed to himself to never be responsible for another man’s child.

With his wife gone, John Sr. was free to spend all his time in the bar and not have to worry about the incessant nagging when he got home. His best friend was a fella named Jack Daniels, and they visited every night. Without fail, John would come home staggering drunk each evening. “Why don’t you just leave, Jonesy! You go find yer real daddy and see if he owns up to such a sorry mistake!” Eventually he’d work himself into a drunken rage and followed the insults with slaps.

The nickname of Jonesy stuck. Every time Jake heard his father say it in that sarcastic tone, he knew it meant Jacobson wasn’t a Jones; his real father’s last name was supposedly Jacob. It was John’s way of calling Jacobson a bastard.

After college, John Jr. went into the army. When the Joneses received word that he had been killed in a helicopter accident, it almost destroyed John Sr. He couldn’t accept that the apple of his eye had been taken away. One night after a particularly long visit with Jack Daniels, he stumbled in the room and slapped Jonesy. “Why couldn’t it have been you, you sorry piece of....”

Finally Jonesy could take it no more. For the first time in his life he stood up for himself and returned the punch. Jonesy may have been smaller than John Sr., but he was wiry and strong. It felt good to finally pay the old man back. For the first time in his life, Jonesy felt power. That feeling didn’t last long, however. Jonesy landed a few good punches, but they only seemed to empower and enrage his father more. Jonesy was no match for the older man, who had spent years and years laboring on the truck farm. The old man beat him until Jonesy was groggy. Then he dragged Jonesy to his bed, tied him up, and beat him until he was unconscious.

Jonesy didn’t mourn for his brother. Truthfully, he felt a bit of satisfaction knowing that he no longer was forced to live in another’s shadow. In fact, it was difficult not to be downright gleeful at the funeral. Part of him wanted to laugh. The crown prince was gone! Now the scroungy old beggar could get a few crumbs. Instead of celebrating at the funeral, he dutifully followed his father and comfortingly put his arm around the old man’s shoulders. He managed to look sorrowful during the eulogy, all the while choking back the bile that came in his throat when he heard all the wonderful things said about his brother. He somberly helped carry the coffin to the gravesite. He embraced a sobbing John Sr. as the coffin was lowered into the ground. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. When all the others left the gravesite to return home, only Jonesy remained.

“Good riddance, Junior!” he sneered as he spat on the grave.

Jonesy continued to endure his father’s drunken wrath. He endured the beatings, the insults, the constant ramblings of how perfect John Jr. had been. He endured his father’s constant wishing that Jonesy had been killed instead of the crown prince. He endured it all for one reason. He knew eventually John Sr. would die. And when he did, Jonesy would be left to inherit his father’s possessions.

There was talk that his brother had a daughter out of wedlock, and Jonesy didn’t want to chance losing his inheritance to that little brat. He could take no chances in angering his father so much that he might seek out Jonesy’s niece and change his will. Jonesy was forced to bide his time and continually endure his father’s abuse. Bit by bit, his soul was being eaten away. Little by little, he was consumed by bitterness. Years and years of inferiority began destroying any goodness within.

But finally, it was over. His father died, and indeed Jacobson Jones was sole heir of his father’s goods. He worked constantly on the truck farm, determined to make it more prosperous than it had been when his father owned it. The labor was difficult and the pay was minimal. Jonesy had trouble keeping employees for he earned the reputation of being a tight, iron-fisted slave driver. The secret of Jonesy’s success had been to hire young, inexperienced men, preferably illegal immigrants, who were desperate for any kind of work. They may not stay long, but he’d work them to death while they were there. Eventually he doubled the number of trucks and opened a greenhouse to provide produce during the winter months.

Visitors were a rarity on the farm. Jonesy didn’t have many friends, and those he did have weren’t the type to make a social call on a Monday afternoon. He never invited his lady friends to his house or let them know where he lived. He couldn’t take the chance of being tracked down if he had the misfortune of siring some brat. He hated kids.

So needless to say, Jonesy was surprised when an old truck pulled into the driveway. He peered in the truck and saw a woman. “What kinda trouble am I in?” he muttered under his breath. He watched as a petite woman hopped out of the driver’s side. She had hair the color of sand on a warm summer’s day. Her eyes were large and the color of a robin’s egg.

She was the most beautiful woman that Jonesy had ever seen.

The woman was obviously out of her element, and she nervously smoothed her skirt as she approached Jonesy. “By any chance are you the owner of this truck farm?” Even her voice was pretty, Jonesy thought.

He nodded, wiped his sweaty hands on his overalls, and shook her hand. “Yes, ma’am. The name’s Jacobson Jones, but everyone calls me Jonesy.”

“I’m Katje Frayne. I have some farm equipment that I need to sell. You once bought a piece of machinery from one of my neighbors. He told me you might be interested in what I have.”

Jonesy carefully looked Katje up and down. “Exactly what kind of equipment are you talking about? And why do you want to sell it?” There was no way he was going to get ripped off by some woman, no matter how pretty she was.

Katje sighed. Her beautiful eyes watered, and she seemed to take a moment to compose herself. Jonesy couldn’t help but feel bad for this pretty lady. John Sr. may have been cruel to him, but he’d never struck Peggy. No matter how much she had deserved it. John Jones always told his boys to treat women proper. “I’m sorry, Miss Frayne. Didn’t mean to upset you. Sometimes I can sound a bit gruffer than I mean to.”

“My name is Mrs. Frayne,” Katje corrected. “And you didn’t upset me. My husband died a few months ago, and sometimes I get a bit weepy over the smallest things.” She pulled a tissue from her purse and began to hastily wipe her tears. “I have a large plow that is in excellent condition. Every year my husband and I raised a big garden. We got the plow a couple of years ago as an anniversary gift from my husband’s uncle. Win— that was my husband— kept it in perfect condition. Since he passed away, there’s no way for me to keep up the mortgage by myself. I have a job as a waitress, but it’s not enough. I have to move next month, and I won’t have any use for farming equipment at the apartment. I thought if I could sell some of the things I won’t need in the apartment, it might pay a few bills. I’m so behind.” She pulled another tissue from her purse and tried to keep up with the flow of tears. “I’m sorry for wasting your time,” she said as she started walking away.

“Hold on!” Jonesy gently grabbed her arm. “Just because I wanted some details doesn’t mean I’m not interested in the plow. In fact, I was telling my foreman the other day that we needed to look into getting another one. We’ve been growing more crops and need some more equipment to keep up with it all. I’d be mighty interested in seeing what you got.”

“That’s wonderful!” Katje exclaimed. “I live in Rochester. I know it’s over four hours away… Is that a problem?”

Jonesy rubbed the stubble on his chin in a thoughtful manner. “Actually, I need to be in that area on Thursday. Would it be all right to stop in that afternoon and take a look?”

“That would be fine. I know I can switch with one of the other waitresses, so I can be there.” She dug a piece of paper out of her purse and hurriedly scribbled down her address and phone number. “Thank you so much, Mr. Jones.”

Jonesy snickered. “Mr. Jones was my dad. Call me Jonesy.”

“All right, Jonesy,” Katje answered, hesitantly. “You can call me Katie. The English rendition of my name may be easier to remember than the Dutch form.”

Jonesy knew he would have no trouble at all remembering Katie Frayne.

Chapter Two

The next couple of days passed slowly. Jonesy thought about Katie Frayne constantly and that disturbed him. He had never let himself care about another human being before, and these feelings were strange to him. His father’s abuse and his mother’s abandonment caused Jonesy to build a wall around his soul. This wall was so great, so thick, that nobody had ever been able to climb it. Now, this pretty young widow found a tiny crevice inside. Not that she was trying. He wasn’t handsome like his brother had been. True, he had a dark quality that appealed to some women; he fit the “bad boy” stereotype to a T. He could have his pick of any of the women he knew from the bar where he hung out.

They’re all right for a one night stand, but there’s no way I’m getting’ chained to one of them broads, Jonesy thought. If I ever get married... A picture of Katie in a white dress popped into his head.

It wasn’t just the fact that Katie was beautiful. There was just something about her that had gotten under his skin. She had a presence of goodness about her that made him believe that maybe the world wasn’t entirely evil, as he’d grown up believing. He knew she wasn’t like most of the floozies he knew from the bar. She seemed innocent and sweet, and she wasn’t one to flaunt her good looks. In fact, she seemed like the type that didn’t even know how pretty she was. Most of the women Jonesy knew would try and use their feminine wiles on him if they were trying to sell him something. Katie wasn’t the type to do that. She could be playing up the widow bit, but Jonesy didn’t think so. She seemed genuinely grief stricken. He remembered how blue her eyes got as they filled with tears...

Jonesy’s feelings disturbed him so greatly that he called Katie to cancel. These strange, new emotions started to frighten him. He shut himself off for so long that he couldn’t imagine letting someone get close to him. However, when Katie answered the phone in her musical voice, Jonesy merely confirmed she would be able to get off work and said he’d see her Thursday.

The days passed slowly, but finally it was Thursday. Jonesy arrived at the Frayne residence at half past two. As he pulled into the driveway, he saw a two-story yellow farmhouse. It was nothing fancy, but it looked well-kept and quite comfortable. Flowers lined the beds in front of the house and filled the boxes in the windows. There were several buildings near the house, one of which was a large barn. Jonesy saw the head of a large, black horse peeking out of the top of one of the barn’s stalls.

Jonesy looked around and saw the hood up on the old truck and a small form looking inside. “Katie, is that you?” he called. Suddenly, a blonde head appeared from the side of the hood. Katie waved at him and made her way over.

“Hello! Glad that you found the place!”

Jonesy grinned at Katie and motioned to a spot of grease on her cheek. Katie laughed as she rubbed it off. “For a woman, you give good directions,” he teased. “Don’t tell me you work on engines too?”

Katie smiled and shook her head. “On the way home from the diner last night, the truck started making an awful noise. I was hoping it would be something so obvious that even I would know what was wrong when I looked under the hood. Unfortunately, I can’t make heads or tails of what an engine should look like.” She sighed deeply. “Well, there goes any money I make if you decide to buy the plow. But at least I wouldn’t have to worry about how the mechanic will get paid.”

She gave a wave of dismissal and mustered another smile. “Come on and I’ll show you the plow. It’s over here in this barn.” She led him to the large barn that housed the horse.

Jonesy watched the petite lady as she walked to the building. He was overcome with a deep wave of sympathy for her, which was so unlike him. He took a deep breath, and then dove into uncharted waters… Being kind. “Well, Katie, I’m pretty handy under a vehicle. I may be able to take a look under the hood and see if I can fix it.”

“Oh, I couldn’t let you do that. I feel bad enough having you drive all this way,” Katie stammered.

“It’s not a problem at all. I’d be happy to.” He looked the plow over and whistled. “This is in excellent shape. It’s a nice piece of equipment.”

Katie lovingly ran her hand over the machinery. “Win believed in taking care of what you have. He wasn’t particularly fond of tinkering with machinery, but he always made sure somebody kept this repaired and oiled.” Her eyes twinkled and she laughed. “Win was about as handy as I am with machinery. He was more of a nature lover. He always said he felt more comfortable with the four-legged type of horsepower than the kind you find under the hood of an automobile.” Her voice began to shake a bit and she visibly composed herself. “So, Jonesy, what would be a fair price? I must admit to being a bit ignorant about such things.

Jonesy stared up at the barn’s ceiling and scratched his chin. He could easily cheat Katie and pay much less than what the plow was worth, which was normally how he conducted his business. Most everything he owned he had gained in an underhanded manner. However, he could not bring himself to cheat this pretty blonde widow. And it wasn’t just the fact that Katie was good-looking. There was something else. For the first time in his life, Jonesy felt compassion for another human being. In the end, he actually gave Katie much more than the plow was worth.

“Well, now that we have that settled, how about I take a look under the hood of yer truck out there?” he asked. “Do you have some tools handy? If it’s something minor, I might be able to fix it with an adjustment.”

“Win’s tools are in the garage. I’m not sure what you’ll find, but there may be something you can use in there. If you don’t mind, I’m going to the house for a minute to start dinner.” Katie started toward the house, and then shyly turned back to Jonesy. “If you don’t have plans, maybe you can stay for supper. It’s the least I can do to thank you for buying the plow and fixing the truck.”

Jonesy chuckled. “Don’t thank me yet! I’ll see what I can do. But it would be nice to stay for dinner. Thank you very much for the invitation.” He whistled a merry tune as he headed for the garage. He wasn’t expecting a dinner invitation. Could someone as wonderful as that actually be interested in me? He quickly dismissed the thought from his mind and opened the side door of the garage.

He found the light and peered around the large building. He saw a bookshelf on one wall that contained books on animals and plants, some of which looked old and rather worn. There were little jars filled with different plants and looked like samples one might find in a biology lab.

In the other corner, there was a table used for woodworking. Several carpentry tools were placed neatly on pegs. A shelf lay unfinished on the table. Jonesy picked it up and studied it carefully. He rubbed the fine grain of the wood and noticed the intricate carvings. Someone put a lot of time in this, he thought as he placed it back on the table. He picked up a small tool used for carving and wondered at the talent of the person who had crafted the shelf.

“What are you doing in here? Put that down!” Jonesy jumped at the angry voice. He looked up in surprise to see a young boy standing before him. Apparently the kid had just returned from fishing, since he was holding a rod and tackle box in one hand and a line of fish in the other. The boy had thick red hair, and his eyes were bright green and filled with fire. A smattering of freckles dotted his nose, and his jaw was set in an angry expression.

For a kid, he seems pretty fierce, Jonesy thought in amusement.

“Hey, don’t get yer panties in a wad, kid. Katie sent me in here to get some tools so I can take a look at her truck.” Jonesy noticed the boy’s eyes grow even greener and took immense pleasure in the fact he had made the boy mad. “What’s it to you, anyway?”

The young man scowled. “Those look like woodworking tools to me. You’d have a hard time fixing a truck with them.”

“Ain’t you ever heard that kids should be seen and not heard?” Jonesy sneered at the boy. “You didn’t answer my question. Who are you and what’re you doing here?”

“My name is Jim Frayne. This is my house, so I can be here if I want. And you didn’t do what I asked. Put down my father’s tools!”

Jonesy put the carver back down on the table, mainly from surprise. He stared at the kid in disbelief. This is her kid, he thought in disbelief. Well, this is just great! I finally found a woman I like and she’s got some brat!

“I didn’t know Katie had a young’un.” Jonesy attempted a friendly tone but wasn’t sure if he accomplished it or not. He hated kids!

“Well, she does.” Jonesy noticed Jim was making no effort to take the edge out of his voice. He had to admit that, for a boy, Jim didn’t show any fear. Must be his redheaded temper, Jonesy thought.

“Do you mind showing me where those tools are, boy?”

Jim didn’t move a muscle, instead using his emerald gaze to stare down the stranger he’d found in his barn.

“I just wanna see if I can fix that truck for your Ma,” Jonesy said, attempting to sway the young man. “I’m not gonna swipe ‘em or anything.”

Jonesy watched Jim’s face at the mention of his mother. The young man seemed to soften and consider what Jonesy had said. A real mama’s boy. May come in handy to know that, Jonesy thought. He watched as Jim pulled a toolbox from a shelf in the back. It was obviously heavy, but the kid managed it easily.

“So, how old are you, boy? You look about thirteen or so, but yer ma doesn’t look old enough to have a kid that age.”

“I’m ten, almost eleven,” Jim answered gruffly. “I just look old for my age. Are you going to look at that engine or not? It’s getting late and I’m sure you’ll need to leave soon.”

Jonesy sneered. Guess who’s coming to dinner, Jimmy boy.

Chapter Three

Jonesy was glad to get away from that brat. Jim proceeded to busily straighten his father’s workshop table after giving him the tools. Jonesy took that opportunity to escape. He stomped all the way to the old truck and popped the hood. Just what have you got yourself into? Meet some pretty blonde and you go from a heartless cad to some yellow-bellied knight in shining armor. He slammed the toolbox on a picnic table near the truck and studied the engine. She may be beautiful, but she’s got a kid! And not just any kid. A mouthy red-haired kid. Even if I could get her interested in me, I’d be stuck with some redheaded step-kid! Jonesy snickered. Maybe that’s where that saying came from. Some poor sap probably was knocked loopy by a pair of big blue eyes and married a widow with a redheaded brat who couldn’t keep his yap shut! That won’t be me! There’s no way I’m gonna...

“Any luck?” Katie’s soft voice startled Jonesy and made him jump. He hit his head on the hood of the truck. Maybe that’ll knock these fool thoughts out of my thick head, he thought to himself bitterly.

“I brought you some lemonade,” she said, offering him a tall glass. “I thought you might be thirsty.”

Jonesy wiped his greasy hands on a handkerchief from his back pocket. “Thank you, ma’am. It is a bit hot out today.” As he took the glass from her their hands touched. The intensity he felt at such a small contact bothered him, and he quickly took the glass. He took a long drink and tried to clear his thoughts. Gonna take something harder than lemonade to get this girl outta my mind.

They sat down at the picnic table while Jonesy finished his lemonade. “I think I found the problem,” he said, holding the cool glass to his sweaty brow. “That racket you heard in the engine was the fan belt. It’s torn in two. That particular fan belt is really wide and runs the whole engine. The half that was on was running the whole engine, and what was left was slapping the motor. It’s a good thing you made it home when did. It wouldn’t have been long before the half running the engine came off too, and you woulda been stuck. You’ll need a new one put on before you go anywhere.”

Katie sighed and bit her lip. “I’m glad I made it home, at least. Tomorrow morning I can call a tow truck to take it into the shop. I’m glad you told me or I might have tried to limp it to the diner in the morning.”

“Do you have a way into work?”

Katie nodded. “My neighbor that lives up the road goes to work the same time I do. She’s employed at the store across the street from the diner. I’m sure I can hitch a ride with her.”

“Well, I need to come back here with my trailer to pick up that plow. I could come back on Saturday and fix it for you,” Jonesy offered.

“You would? I would appreciate it so much! I’d be happy to pay you anything...”

Jonesy shook his head. “Nah. It wouldn’t take much labor. Just an hour or so. And I can pick up a fan belt for twenty bucks.”

“It still seems like a lot of trouble for you. I’d hate for you to go out of your way.”

“If my pop wasn’t dead, he’d slap me if I didn’t help out a widow woman.” Especially one as pretty as this.

Katie laughed. “That’s very nice of you. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay all the kindness you’ve shown.” She looked up and saw Jim shutting the garage door. Her eyes brightened at the sight of her son. “Jimmy! Come over here and meet someone!” The boy hurried to his mother’s side, and the disdain on his face was obvious.

“We ran into each other in the garage, but I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced,” Jonesy said with a grin. “Yer boy helped me find the tools. He told me his name, but I never got around to telling him mine. Jim, I’m Jacobson Jones, but you can call me Jonesy.” He stuck out his hand.

Jim studied him carefully and hesitantly shook Jonesy’s hand. Jonesy ever so slightly increased the pressure, and Jim matched him. His green eyes locked with Jonesy’s dark ones, and Jim stared him down. “Glad to meet you... sir.”

“Nice manners you got there, boy.”

“My father taught me to be polite to my elders. He was a good man.” Jonesy quickly ended the shake. He couldn’t stand this kid. If his ma wasn’t so pretty, I’d be on the first train to the other side of town.

“I need to go in and finish up dinner,” Katie said as she stood up to go in the house. “Jimmy, why don’t you help Mr. Jones clean up here, then you both can wash your hands for supper.” She lovingly ruffled her son’s hair, and walked back to the house. Jonesy noticed the scowl that crossed the boy’s face at the mention of his staying for dinner. He also noticed that, although Jim obviously didn’t want him there, the kid didn’t say anything to his mother. He silently obeyed his mother and began cleaning up the tools.

Once Katie was out of earshot, Jonesy turned to Jim. “You always do what yer told right away?” he asked, almost mockingly.

“I try to mind my mom. My father taught me a lot of things before he died, and respecting my parents was one of them.” Jim wiped his hands on his jeans and picked up the toolbox. “Now that Dad is gone, I try to help Mom and take care of her as best as I can.” They walked to the garage and began to put away the tools.

“Well, Jimmy, I’m just trying to help her out, too. My daddy always encouraged me and my brother to treat a lady right.” Especially if she was good-lookin’.

“My name’s Jim,” the kid corrected sharply. “Don’t call me Jimmy.”

“You don’t like that, huh? Well, if I’m not mistaken, I heard yer Ma call you Jimmy not ten minutes ago.” Jonesy may not like the boy, but he sure enjoyed making him hot under the collar.

“That’s different. She’s my mom and can call me whatever she wants.” Jim angrily slammed the door of the garage. “My name is James Winthrop Frayne the Second, in case you have trouble remembering ‘Jim’.”

“Well, Jimmy, aren’t you just the little crown prince.” Jonesy’s laugh was filled with scorn. “Now, where do we wash up, James Winthrop Frayne the Second?”

Jim gritted his teeth and led the way to a large sink in the barn. He showed Jonesy where the soap was and went over to his horse’s stall. He was too angry to try and be sociable, no matter how mannerly his father had taught him to be.

Jonesy didn’t mind the silence. He knew he had rattled Jim’s cage and was enjoying that fact immensely. I never knew kids could be this much fun! he thought to himself.

As Jonesy washed his hands, he watched Jim lovingly pet his horse. It was a large, black gelding, larger than any horse Jonesy had ever seen. Not that he had paid much attention to horses. “That yer horse, boy?”

“He was my dad’s.” Jim answered, unable to keep the pain out of his voice. “His name is Blackie. Dad let me name him when I was four.”

“So yer old man liked horses, huh? What else did he do for fun? I assume that junk in the garage was his.”

As much as Jim disliked this Jonesy, he loved talking about his father. “It’s not junk. It was my dad’s woodworking things. He was an excellent carpenter.”

“Hey, I meant no offense, kid. I saw the shelf he made. It was real good.”

“Thanks,” Jim replied softly. “Dad was really talented. He was working on that shelf for my Mom’s birthday before he died.”

“That’s tough luck. It’s hard only having one parent. I lost my mom when I was around yer age.”

“I’m sorry.” Jim couldn’t help but feel sympathy for the unsavory man. It was against his nature to be hateful.

“Don’t waste yer sympathy on me, kid. Ma didn’t die. She took off with Dad’s best friend. Dad only wished that he coulda met him first so he coulda thanked him.” Jonesy chuckled at his joke. “Someday you’ll get that, kid. That’s funny. So what was all those books and jars on that shelf in there?”

“Dad loved animals and he studied them for a living. He was a naturalist. There wasn’t an animal alive that Dad couldn’t make friends with. He worked for the state, taking care of the animals in the preserves around here. He also taught a few classes on zoology at the local college. He was a really good teacher. All his students liked him. Sometimes we would go to the pond and gather up different samples of plants for his class.”

“So Daddy was father of the year?” Jonesy’s voice dripped with scorn.

“Yeah, he was. He was a wonderful father. He taught me stuff and spent lots of time with me and Mom. We went fishing and camping. He loved horses and taught me to ride when I was little. From the time I was five, I could ride this horse bareback with only a halter rope to guide him.”

The slight pride in Jim’s voice grated Jonesy. Jonesy’s dad never taught him anything, except how to drink and fight and pick up women. “Well, aren’t you a regular little Roy Rogers,” he said sarcastically.

“Do you ride?” Jim asked.

“I don’t care much for animals of any kind. I’ve met a few stray dogs that I could relate to, but I prefer a fast car to a dumb horse.” Jonesy dried his hands on the towel hanging by the sink. Jim was giving the horse a sugar cube and whispering unknown things to it. “So what are you going to do with yer horse after you move to yer apartment next month?”

Jim’s shoulders sagged. “I guess I’ll have to sell him. I really hate to, though. I want him to have a good home.”

Jonesy scratched his chin. “I may have a friend that’d be interested in him.”

“Would he be good to him?” Jim gave the horse some grain and a clean supply of water. He gave it a final pat and closed the stall door.

“Oh, sure! He’d feed him real good to fatten him up before he turned him into dog food!” Jonesy chuckled heartily at the look of horror on Jim’s face. “Well, kid, I’m heading inside to see what yer Ma’s up to. You wash up like a good boy.” He swaggered off, leaving Jim alone.

Jim washed his hands and let out a deep sigh. It was going to be a long evening.

Credits:

Thank you to my wonderful editors, Kaye, Kathy, and Lori D. You all were such a big help! Thanks for being my guinea pigs!

As you can tell, Jonesy’s grammar isn’t the best in the world, but that was purely intentional. *G*

Thank you to Anna for putting this idea in my head to begin with! I never intended to write Fanfic, but here I am, doing exactly that.

A big thank you to my husband, Damon, who although he has never read a Trixie in his entire life, tirelessly read this fanfic and told me that it didn’t totally suck.

And I won’t forget the usual disclaimer of these characters aren’t mine and are the sole property of Random House and blah, blah, blah…However, John senior and junior, as well as Peggy, ARE mine, so I can do with them as I please. *veg*