Meat in the Middle

He sat quietly, barely breathing as he concentrated on not giving away his position.   The two young lions were approaching the kill, their eyes fixed warily on each other, each so intent upon being the first to capture their prize that neither took notice of the third competitor.

The first young lion made his move, paw striking out like lightning, claws exposed to spear the kill. The second reached out at the same moment.  He seemed about to win the match; being just that much closer, but all he got for his trouble were the claws of the first sinking into his flesh.

“Ow!”  Hoss Cartwright cried, pulling his wounded hand back against his chest.  “What’d you go and do that for?”

Little Joe pulled his fork back, checking the tines to make sure they weren’t bent from their contact with his brother’s backhand.  “It was an accident.  If you’d just waited a second until somebody else got something to eat, it wouldn’t have happened!”

Hoss’ eyes turned back toward the platter of steaks and his frown deepened.  The biggest, juiciest, most tempting of the bunch, the one he and Joe had both just tried to grab, was gone.  He checked Joe’s plate, but it was still empty and those green eyes were returning the favor by suspiciously looking over Hoss’ own bare plate.  Together they turned to look at Adam.  He was busily carving up the meat, grinning at them as he hurriedly stuffed a bite into his mouth.

Adam made a production of showing just how tender and delicious the food tasted as he slowly chewed, amusement sparkling in his eyes as he watched the others practically chewing along with him.  Hoss wiped his lips to prevent a thread of saliva from falling, and his expression crumpled pathetically as the steak was slowly consumed before his eyes.  With Hop Sing and Pa both away, the boys had been doing their own cooking.  Tonight it had been Joe’s turn, and just for once he had actually managed not to burn everything.  Almost everything, but not quite.  There had been one perfectly prepared steak, right at the top of the heap of cinders comprising the rest.

Swallowing the last bite, Adam smacked his lips and rose from the table.  He patted Joe’s slumping shoulder in thanks as he leaned across him to snag a toothpick out of the holder in the center of the table.

As he departed with a cheerfully mocking whistle, Hoss and Joe shook their heads glumly.  “Boy, you gotta be fast around him,” Hoss muttered, propping his elbow on the table and dropping his cheek into his hand.

Joe sighed and picked up a blackened piece of beef from the platter, dropping it on his plate with a clank.  “And smart, too.  Pass the ketchup, will you?”

END