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  "Stan, what are you doing here?"

  "You won’t believe what I brought home."

  "Really? What is it?"

  Marcia came running in yelling, "Daddy. Daddy. You’re home early." She jumped into my arms as she loved to do when I came home. I flung her around a couple times and gave her a bear hug.

  "Yes, amazing, isn’t it?"

  I smiled and looked into her bright brown eyes. She looked just like her mother did when she was a girl. In fact, if you put pictures of them at eight years old side by side, it was hard to tell them apart.

  After putting Marcia down, I said, "Go find your brothers. I’ve got a surprise for everyone."

  "Oh. A surprise. Daddy’s got a surprise!" she yelled as she ran off. Rebekah’s look of apprehension was intensifying by the minute as she waited to find out what was going on. I smiled at her, but she didn’t respond. A minute later Reggi, Mark, and Peter ran into the room with Marcia hot on their heels.

  "Okay, come on outside," I said. "It’s in the driveway."

  They all rushed out the front door and stopped in their tracks when they saw it. I looked at Rebekah and held my breath. Reggi broke everyone’s stunned silence, "Whoa! What a cool boat."

  "Stan, you bought a boat?" Rebekah groaned.

  The boys climbed eagerly into the boat. Marcia tried to follow them but wasn’t tall enough to make it over the side. I grabbed her under the arms and lifted her inside.

  "No, I didn’t buy it exactly. A client gave it to me."

  "Why would he do that?" Rebekah questioned.

  Mark pushed a button on the dash and there was a loud, "Hoooonk! Hoooonk!" The kids laughed in delight. I couldn’t help but laugh too, but Rebekah wasn’t smiling.

  "It’s an inboard/outboard. It cruises at thirty-five miles per hour. We can use it for skiing or fishing."

  "Okay, what’s going on? Clients just don’t give you expensive boats."

  "It was a trade."

  "Oh, God! You took this boat instead of money?"

  "Well, you know Robert Taylor. He has owed me three grand for over six months. I’ve been pressing him for the cash but he just doesn’t have it. So, I figured at least with the trade we’d have something the family could use."

  Rebekah shook her head. "I can’t believe you. We are destitute and you’re letting your client unload a worthless piece of junk on you."

  "What are you talking about? It’s a beautiful boat and we’re going to have some great fun with it."

  "Can we take it out, Dad?" Reggi asked.

  "Yes, that’s the plan. We can take it to Texoma tomorrow while your mother is busy with her seminar."

  "What about Marcia?" Rebekah said. "I don’t want her out in the boat."

  "She’ll be okay. Don’t worry."

  "Four kids are too many for you to watch. Marcia can stay with my mother. I’m sure she won’t mind watching her."

  "No. Mommy! I want to go fishing," Marcia moaned.

  "No argument. You are not going fishing. Little girls don’t fish. Maybe Grandma will take you to a movie."

  Marcia started bawling. "I don’t want to go to—"

  Rebekah glared at her then turned to me. "See the trouble you caused with your foolishness."

  "Listen. I don’t need a bunch of crap from you. I’m taking my boys fishing. It’s no big deal, so calm down."

  "Who’s Christine?" Rebekah said pointing to the Christine painted on the side of the boat.

  "What?" I said. "Oh that. I think Christine was Robert’s ex-wife."

  "Wonderful. My husband is running around with a boat named after his deadbeat client’s ex-wife."

  I laughed. "Okay. We’ll change the name if it bothers you. How about Rebekah One?"

  "Don’t do me any favors," Rebekah said, as she shook her head, turned and stormed back into the house.

  2

  Don Blaylock

  In law school we were admonished never to get too close to a client because of the difficulty in maintaining objectivity. It was perhaps sage advice, but extremely impractical for two reasons. First of all, clients over time would invariably become friends, and they would be extremely put out if they were suddenly cast aside as a client. Secondly, since I worked eighty hours a week practicing law, I didn’t have much time for socializing. If my clients couldn’t be my friends, I wouldn’t have any.

  Since Rebekah wouldn't go out in our new boat, I invited Don Blaylock and his son Greg to go with us. Reggi and Greg were friends and Don and I both coached our son's baseball teams. Over the course of the previous season we had run into each other several times and hit it off pretty well. We had often talked about doing something together, but were both so busy it never happened. The new boat seemed like the perfect opportunity to change that.

  Don stood about six feet tall, obviously worked out, and wore his jet black hair combed straight back. He appeared to be in his late thirties and was blessed with bright blue eyes that women adored. At least that's what Rebekah had informed me on more than one occasion. He was obviously intelligent and very outgoing.

  "Can you believe this heat?" I said as we drove off with the boat in tow.

  "Oh, I know. We're going to have to keep a close eye on everybody out there today. We don't need anybody getting heat stroke."

  "That's for sure," I replied. "I've got plenty of sun block if you need it."

  Don nodded. I had been curious about Don's history so I took this opportunity to ask some questions. "So what kind of work are you in?"

  "Sales," he replied.

  "Oh. What's the name of your company?"

  "Thermotech Industries. They're headquarters is in California—San Jose."

  "I've heard of them. When did you all come to Mesquite?"

  "February, but Pam and the kids didn't move until school was out in June."

  "So, how do you like it so far?" "We like it here a lot. Pam's made a lot of new friends. In fact, she was just elected President of the Junior League."

  "Right. Rebekah was telling me about that."

  "And I was promoted to sales manager for the new office, so I got a nice raise."

  "That always helps," I said.

  "Yes, we finally don't have to worry about money."

  "I liked California better," Greg interjected.

  I looked back at him and asked, "Really? How come?"

  "It's so flat here and there's no ocean."

  Don looked at me and shrugged. "Greg's a surfer. He used to go to the beach every morning to catch a few waves before school."

  I nodded. "Yeah, it's a long drive to the Gulf. That's for sure."

  "I wish I could learn how to surf," Reggi said.

  I nodded and smiled at him. "Well, maybe sometime we'll go down to Galveston and rent a couple of boards."

  "That would be cool. Would you teach me how to surf, Greg?"

  "Sure. No problem. We should bring my brother Rob. He's really good at it."

  "He's a good ballplayer too," I added. "How old is he now?"

  "Sixteen," Don said. "Just got his driver's license."

  "Oh, really? I'm not anxious for Reggi to get his."

  "Why not?" Reggi asked indignantly.

  "Cause I'll be worried about you out there with all the lunatics on the road."

  Reggi shook his head. "I'll be fine."

  "Pam and I set down some strict rules for Rob."

  "That's good. He seems like a very responsible kid."

  "Yeah, but I'm not crazy about a couple of his friends."

  "Yeah. A lot of kids these days are bad news."

  The sun was just peeking over the eastern horizon when we finally put Christine in the water for her maiden voyage. The kids were all smiles as we idled out of the harbor. I didn’t know what to expect as I pushed the throttle forward. The boat took off with a thunderous roar jolting us backward. Everyone started laughing hysterically. Soon we were sailing across the lake at full throttle. As I looked back at my delirious crew I knew trading for th
e boat had been a good decision.

  It took us about thirty minutes to locate the armada of boats who were stalking the school of stripers. We idled into the pack and got ready to fish. After everyone got their line in the water, we waited . . . and waited . . . and waited.

  "I got one!" Greg screamed, as his pole bent, and his reel began to wail. "It’s a big one." He pulled back and tried to reel it in when suddenly the line went limp. "Oh, crap! I lost it."

  "Oh, no. That’s too bad," I said. "I thought maybe we wouldn’t get skunked today."

  Greg reeled in his line. He had lost his lure as well as the fish. Don and Reggi watched their poles anxiously, but there were no more strikes. After a while it became obvious the striper had moved on, and the armada began to disperse. We followed a couple of guide boats for a while but they soon split up and we lost them. We found several other groups of boats and joined them, but we saw very little action. It was almost noon when I suggested we go to the islands and take a swim.

  There were a string of islands about midway between the Texas and Oklahoma sides of the lake. They had nice sandy beaches, picnic tables, and big shady trees. A lot of people camped there, and at night you could see their campfires across the lake. It was hot, and the boys were exhausted, so I got no argument.

  As we neared the shore, I cut the engine to an idle and we gently pushed up onto the beach. After I tied the boat to a rock, so it wouldn’t drift away, we took our shirts and sneakers off and hit the water. A brisk southerly wind created some nice waves that the kids used to pretend they were surfing.

  The water was cool and very pleasant on this hot summer day. It was totally enjoyable, and my only regret was that Rebekah and Marcia were not there to enjoy it with us. After a half hour Don and I got out of the water, found a couple beers, and watched the kids play from the shore. After another half hour had passed, Reggi came in to shore with a serious look on his face.

  "Let’s go do some more fishing, Dad," he said. "I’m tired of swimming."

  "I doubt we’ll catch any striper this time of day," I replied.

  "I bet there are some nice bass in those coves we passed."

  "Maybe. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to check it out. What do you think, Don?"

  "Hey. You're the captain. Whatever you want to do."

  "Great! Let’s go," Reggi said.

  After Reggi and Greg had put their clothes back on, they got back in the boat, and we shoved off. I idled backward a ways and then turned the boat around and gave it full throttle. The kids looked at each other with broad smiles. Normally I had a good sense of direction. Even on a big lake like Texoma I had never had a problem getting where I wanted to go. But suddenly I looked around and didn’t know where I was.

  "Daddy," Reggi yelled, pointing toward the shore. "Look at that cove over there. I bet it’s full of bass."

  I scratched my head, wondering where the hell we were. I didn't want Don to know I was lost so I didn't say anything. Finally I shook my head and said, "Okay," and headed the boat toward the cove.

  It was a beautiful little cove about a half mile deep. I slowed the engine to an idle and glided along the shore. When we were about a hundred yards out, I saw a bass jump, so I cut the engine and dropped the anchor. The boat slowed, and when the anchor hit bottom we turned 180° and then came to a stop.

  "This looks as good a spot as any," I said.

  Everyone jumped into action as the hunt began. "Daddy, fix my lure. It’s tangled," Reggi said.

  "All right. Bring it over here."

  While I was fixing Reggi’s lure, Don made a long cast toward the shore.

  "Nice cast," I said.

  He smiled and started slowly reeling the lure back toward the boat. Greg cast his lure to the rear of the boat. Half way to its expected destination it snagged and dropped straight down about ten yards from the boat. The lure lay dead in the water.

  "Crap!" he said. Then suddenly the lure disappeared, and his pole bent like a palm tree in a hurricane. "I got one!" he yelled.

  "Good. Don’t let it get away this time," Don said.

  Reggi gave Greg an envious look and then his poll jerked. "I got one! . . . Oh, man! It’s an elephant!"

  By this time Greg had his catch on board. It was jumping around like water on a hot griddle. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t get a grip on it to pull off the hook. "Help me, Daddy!" he screamed.

  Don reached over, grabbed the fish and tried to extricate the hook with a pair of needlenose pliars.

  Reggi brought his aboard and exclaimed, "Wow! It must be five pounds."

  "It’s a big one, all right," I said as I removed the hook from Mark’s big bass. To my rear I heard a splash. I turned to see a bass jump eighteen inches out of the water.

  "Daddy! Look. I’ve got another one," Greg yelled.

  "Whoa! I guess so," Don said.

  The pole was suddenly jerked out of Greg’s hand and he fell hard against the side of the boat still holding the line in his hand.

  "Greg! Hang on. Don’t let it go," I said, grabbing his foot so he wouldn’t go overboard. After crawling over him, I reached out and grabbed the pole just before it sank out of sight. I got up and started reeling it in. "Stand up." Greg rubbed his stomach and then struggled to his feet. . . . "Now here," I said, handing him the pole. "

  "Hang onto it this time," Don admonished.

  Greg took the pole and began reeling in the fish. It was slow as the fish was stronger than he was. I watched in amazement at our sudden fortune—but not for long.

  "I’ve got another one!" Reggi yelled.

  "Me, too," Don said..

  "Jesus! We must be in a school," I said. "Where’s my pole? I want some of this action."

  "Daddy, take off my fish. I want to catch another one," Reggi said.

  "Take it off yourself. It’s my turn to catch one."

  Thirty-two fish later, the waters calmed and we stood with our lines in the water, dumbstruck—numb from excitement beyond our wildest fantasies. I took a deep breath and shook my head.

  "Well, I think we caught them all," I said.

  "No, I bet there are more," Reggi said.

  I looked at my watch and saw it was almost four. Since I wasn’t sure exactly where we were, I decided it was time to head on home. We certainly didn’t need any more fish and I figured it might take a while to get my bearings and find Little Mineral.

  "Okay, men. It’s time to head back."

  "Nooo!" Reggi moaned.

  "Do we have to?" Greg asked.

  "No argument," Don said. "It’s getting late."

  Reluctantly, the boys reeled in their lines and settled in for the ride home. As I was about to crank up the engine, Don pointed to a boat coming at us fast. When it got about fifty feet from us, it slowed down to an idle and came up along side. It was an Oklahoma Fish & Game patrol boat with two officers aboard. My stomach tightened.

  "Hi, there," the older of the two men said.

  "Hi," I replied politely.

  The two officers scanned the fish scattered about our boat.

  "Quite a catch you got there."

  "Yeah, we came up on a school, I guess. I’ve never seen anything like it."

  "You gotta license, I guess?"

  Don nodded, pulled his wallet out of his pocket, and located the license. He handed it to the officer.

  "What about you, sir," the officer said directing his attention to me.

  "Sure," I said, as I reached for my wallet. I pulled out the license and handed it to the officer.

  He studied it a second. "This is a Texas license."

  I nodded. "Right."

  "I hope you have an Oklahoma one."

  "An Oklahoma license? Why?"

  "You’re in Oklahoma waters."

  I looked around at the landscape. "I am? I thought for sure I was on the Texas side. I didn’t mean to come into Oklahoma waters."

  "Well you did, and unless you’ve got an Oklahoma license we’ve got a problem."

  S
uddenly I remembered I had purchased an Oklahoma license when I was up at Lake Murray a few months before. "Wait. Maybe I do have an Oklahoma license."