🌻 The Clive Saga — CHAPTER 22

Clive Trying to Herd a Cat (Me)

“I need some straight answers from you, Kid. You’re leaving me bamboozled as to what you’re trying to accomplish.”

“Well, Clive—”

“Stop right there, Kid. Is this going to be a thing with you failing to offer proper respect and calling me by my title?”

“Pretty much, El Zorro. Once I get to know someone, I like using their given name. I’m not sure if Clive is a given name or an alias, but either way, I don’t see why I can’t call you Clive.”

“I’ll make a concession for you, Kid, since it’s obvious you’re a slow learner. You may address me as Don Clive or even just Zorro.”

“Fine, Don Clive it is — I’m not contributing to your delusions of grandeur.”

“I’m asking point‑blank, Kid: why didn’t you show up to work until noon today? This is supposed to be one of your productive days, not one of your ‘a little of this, a little of that’ days. So where were you?”

“I was catching up on missed sleep — only had three hours and change last night, and the night before I had just four hours and forty‑four minutes. I got up early to do some work, then couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer, so I did the smart thing and went back to sleep for an hour.”

“Well, working tired isn’t safe, but you need to let me know what’s going on so I’m not waiting around to make sure you don’t lose a finger — or worse.”

“Explain this then: I let you take the finished walking sticks to David at Davis Hardwood, and you come back two hours later with a $65 plus tax piece of wood. What do you have to say for yourself, Kid?”

“Don Clive, that’s a piece of Koa wood — the perfect size for a flute — and it’s beautiful.”

“It is pretty, Kid, but why was it so expensive? You could have gotten six feet of Cherry, and you know that’s the sweet spot for a great‑sounding flute.”

“So now you’re lecturing me on what makes a great‑sounding flute?”

“Somebody has to, Kid. You seem to forget what you’re doing.”

“Don Clive, Koa wood only grows in Hawaii, and it’s protected — you can only harvest dead or storm‑damaged trees. I may never get a piece like this again, and David set it aside for me, which was very thoughtful. You know I love wood — the more unique, the better.”

“Kid, I’m not indulging your wood‑hoarding obsession here. You need to focus on bang for the buck, not making yourself a collection of wood you value too much to use. It was bad enough that I had to chase down lost cattle in the canyon lands of Utah when I was a kid. Herding you in the right direction feels too much like trying to get a cat to go where you want.”

He leaned back, sword tapping the Koa’s grain.

“From now on, you need to clear spending money on such an expensive piece.”

“When pigs fly, Don Clive. I earned my money, and I’m enjoying my retirement — or at least I was until a certain post‑mortal entered my life and made everything more complicated.”