Spirit Quest
Chapter 5: Family Life
by
DreamWeaver



Author's note #1: Although SPIRIT QUEST is a sequel to SHADOW MAN in which Logan's trip to Alkali Lake pits him against Magneto, Mystique and Toad, it is an independent story in its own right.

Author's note #2: Hey, if Marvel first says Logan has blue eyes, then in Ultimate X they're black, I can have them green here for the purpose of the story to make them more unusual and distinctive.




Logan thought he wouldn't be able to sleep, but he did, rolled up in a blanket on the floor of the main room, knapsack for a pillow. He'd wanted to just leave, but Kia begged him not to go when she opened the bedroom door. It was late and she was exhausted, had to get some rest, but there was more she must tell him, she said, the most important part. So he took the blanket she offered, too depressed by what she'd already told him to put up an argument. But as he lay there, fitful, despondent, her words running through his mind over and over, something puppy-like crawled up, nuzzled him, whimpered. Kevin.

"Hey, bout'chou, you cold?" Logan whispered. "Wanna stay with me awhile?" He drew the baby close. As soon as Kevin's asleep, I'll put him in his crib, he decided. But by the time that happened they were both sleeping, comforting each other, the baby snuggled under the blanket, gently rising and falling on Logan's chest, secured by a brawny arm thrown over his back.

A sound caused Logan to awaken with a start. It was late morning and Connor was standing over them, glowering. The kid definitely has my glower, thought Logan. And he suddenly wondered if he had bestowed anything else on Connor besides good health and a crappy attitude. And were those endowments enough to get through life, replace a father? It was an uncomfortable question and Logan glowered in return.

"What?" he demanded, then sat up and prized off Kevin, who was clutching his chest hair. "Damn! You're wet, bout'chou! Here, take him." He handed the baby over.

"Don't call him 'cabbage stump'! His name's Kevin."

"Yeah? Well, anything that's short and stubby and tough I call a bout'chou." Logan got to his feet, clad only in jeans. The cabin was chilly and he pulled the blanket around his shoulders. "Where's your mom?"

Connor was over at the crib changing the diaper. "She got up three hours ago. Went out to do her rounds. She's a doctor, remember?" he added sarcastically at Logan's frown.

"House calls on Sunday?"

"People still get sick." He set Kevin on the floor where the baby proceeded to chew on an ancient stuffed toy that bore no recognizable resemblance to any member of the animal kingdom.

The boy turned to confront Logan, arms crossed. "So are you staying, or what?"

"Simmer down, kid. I'll be outa your hair soon enough. Your mom has something she wants to tell me."

"Goodbye, I hope," the kid muttered and proceeded to slam down coffee pot and frying pan on the wood stove. "I'm fixing breakfast," he announced, his back to their guest. "Coffee? Eggs? Fry bread?"

"Sure, whatever you're having," Logan said, wondering what fry bread was. "Where's -- "

"Pump's outside, bucket's by the door. Bring in a full one when you come back. The kids need to wash. Mom's big on washing." He said it like he didn't think much of it himself. "You see the twins out there, tell 'em to come gimme a hand."

"Yeah, okay." Logan dropped the blanket, bent floorwards to retrieve his ripped shirt -- custom tailored by Hawk -- and went out to greet the morning with a yawn. The scent of pine surged through him like a jolt of electricity shocking him awake. He breathed deeply listening to the chittering of birds, then snagged the handle of the bucket and went to the pump, stirring up a haze of dust motes that glittered in the sunlight.

The wild called to him and he considered just getting his pack and leaving. He'd bet money that this so-very-important thing Kia wanted to tell him would prove to be unpleasant. Why wait around for more bad news? Just leave now. However, tantalizing smells wafting from the cabin convinced him that he might as well stay and eat something first. The wood pile was by the pump and Logan set down bucket and shirt to pick up the ax, seeing an easy way to earn his food. He didn't want to owe this woman anything.

He'd been cutting wood ten minutes steady when between the regular thwunk-thwunk of the ax he heard the twins. They were sneaking up on him from behind; he could tell from the scurry and stop timed almost perfectly to his rhythm. Logan grinned, kept chopping, began raucously singing words that came together in his head --

"I know a guy named One-Eye Max,
He sees little girls, he grabs an ax.
Chop-chop there, chop-chop here,
Then he gets himself a beer!"

On the last line he whirled around, roared, ax overhead. The girls squealed, shrieked, fell in the dust laughing.

"How did you know we were there?" one of them asked, sitting up with a pout.

Kelly, if he remembered right. The twins were identical in feature, braids, and snub nose, but not in scent. All the kids had a subdued musky variation of Kia's flowery meadow mingled with an individual odor. Connor -- stronger on the musk, but with a twist of dry autumn leaves and wet wood to it, Kevin -- the sweet, rich headiness of expensive pipe tobacco, Casey -- clean and fresh like before the first snowfall, and Kelly -- light, delicate, vibrant new grass in the spring sun.

He sank the blade of the ax in a log and stretched. "How did I know? I got me a secret eye in the back of my head."

"No, you don't," Kelly protested.

She was the talker of the two, Logan had noticed, but now Casey chimed in.

"Show me!" she demanded.

"You a buzzard?" he countered.

"Course not, I'm a little girl!" she said, offended.

"Too bad, only buzzards can spot secret eyes. I call my secret eye Max," he added and suddenly lunged at them. They screamed again, laughed, fell back in the dirt.

He laughed too, reached down. "Come on, darlins, grab a hand." They did and he pulled them up.

"Swing us," Kelly now commanded.

"You'll have to hold on tight," he warned.

"We will," she promised for the both of them.

He gripped each one by the forearm while they locked their hands around his wrist, then he spun round and round until the trees and the cabin and the pump chased each other in the opposite direction and all three were laughing.

"Kellincasey!" It came out one angry word.

Logan caught a quick, flashing glimpse of the kid on the porch, slowed down, stopped. It was a minute or two before the scenery came to rest. "Sorry. My fault. They really did want to come in and help you, but I made them stop and play with me."

The kid was not amused, the twins were. They grinned up at him as they brushed off their faded flannel shirts and patched jeans, and with a last wave of hand pattered barefoot onto the porch and into the cabin.

Connor looked after them, turned back to Logan. "Make that two buckets of water," he ordered, and followed them inside.

*******


He was still chopping when the truck rolled up, shuddered, died. Kia got out, a small black satchel in her hand. Logan straightened, dragged an arm across his brow. Either the late night hours, or the early morning hours, or the bright sun, or all of it together, wasn't doing her any favors, he decided. She looked dragged out, beat, her features sharp and harsh compared to the elegant beauty they'd had last night in the moonlight and in the warm glow of the kerosene lamp.

She saw him, came his way. He turned back to the wood pile, his blows strong, steady, sure. Maybe he'd take a look at the pickup before he headed off. Couldn't leave her stranded out here with a mess of kids.

"Good morning."

"Mornin'."

"I didn't know if you'd still be here or not. I'm glad you stayed."

He buried the ax head in the chopping block, neatly stacked what he'd cut, then took a couple of billets of wood and shooting out his claws quickly whittled them into sticks of kindling, put that also on the wood pile. Still silent, he retrieved the bucket, filled it, sluiced down head and chest, swiping himself dry with the shirt. He refilled the bucket and headed for the cabin. "I'll see to the truck after breakfast," he said over his shoulder. "Then I'm gone."

*******


"So what's wrong with it?" Connor stuck his head in the maw of the engine which had already half-swallowed Logan. The kid was off-duty, banished from the cabin while Kia, the girls, the baby, and the breakfast dishes were being washed. Not necessarily all together.

"What isn't wrong with it?" Logan pulled himself free, swabbed ineffectually at hands and arms with the ruin of a shirt, smearing the grease rather than removing it. After this, he'd have to have another session at the pump. "Timing's way off, needs new plugs, a valve job. Wouldn't be surprised if it couldn't use a new battery, too. Wonder it's still running. Get in, kid, and fire it up. Let's see if I can tinker with this hunk of junk enough to get it to the nearest garage."

"Okay." Connor shoved in his mouth the wedge of crisp, puffy pancake that was the fry bread and licked the honey off his fingers before climbing into the truck. Working together, Logan calling out muffled orders and Connor following them, they at last drew from the engine the semblance of a regular, heartening purr instead of the former cacophony of a rock crusher.

"What's the diagnosis, doctor? Will the patient live?" Kia appeared at Logan's elbow.

He jerked, banged his head on the hood -- much to the kid's amusement -- started to say something, swallowed it, and scowled at her instead. "Needs intensive care. You ought to know that. Doctor."

She grimaced. "The reservation doesn't pay much. Can't afford to."

"Then go work in town, Mom," the kid broke in. "The hospital there has asked you often enough. Why should we have to live in this dump? We could be rich!"

Kia's mouth set. "Connor, baby, we've already been over this. I'm all the rez has. In town I'd be one of six. Now, leave us, please, I have to talk to Logan.

"If you took that town job we wouldn't have bums like him around!"

"Connor!"

With ill-grace the kid shuffled off towards the woods, glancing back every once in a while to sear Logan with an acid glare.

"Is that true, what he said? You could get a real job?"

"I have a real job! It just doesn't pay much is all."

Logan shrugged, went over to the pump and started lathering hands and arms with the chunk of laundry soap lying there.

"I'm leaving now," he stated, deliberately cutting in as she opened her mouth to speak. "Obliged if you'd give me a lift to that gate. Or if you don't want to be bothered, just point me in the right direction and I'll take myself off."

"Logan -- " He regarded her stone-faced, and under that chill gaze she wilted. "I'll take you."



CHAPTERS:   1   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10   11   12   13   14   15   16




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