Post by Wayne Keeso on Jan 26, 2017 11:46:03 GMT -5
Westbound and Down (Oneshot)
Two thin trails of smoke lazily drifted upwards into the crisp morning air. If you would follow them back to their source, you’d find two men sitting in those old metal folding chairs atop a mound of rocky earth several hundred yards from the old brick Keeso home. It was early enough in the morning that the dew had not yet evaporated from the grass, and both men’s boots showed it. Wayne sat relaxed, his legs spread wide, as he propped a low caliber rifle on top of his thigh. Nathan, sitting roughly ten feet away from him did the same. Both already had a cigarette in their mouth. Their eyes scanned the open field ahead of them, watching as the sun began to creep over the horizon.
Wayne and his sister Michelle had awoken two nights prior to the sounds of their hens clucking loudly. They both knew right away that something had gotten into the hen house despite their best efforts to keep it secure. By the time Wayne had thrown his boots on and made his way down off the back porch, the culprits could already be seen. Two coyotes slowly stalked around the rectangular wire enclosure which led to the hen house. Another pawed at the door, upset that the thick cedar panels would not give way to its scratching.
He had approached swiftly and two of the coyotes took off the brush line near the edge of the property. The other had gotten its muzzle stuck between the wire of the hen house and frantically scrambled backwards until it freed itself. The varmint scampered away just as Wayne arrived, poised to put a size 12 right up its keister. Wayne pressed his lips together in a thin line, showing a hint of frustration as Michelle jogged up behind him. “Best be getting’ to removing them from the property or they’ll be back every night until the hens is gone.” His sister was right then and now he and Nathan sat, poised to eliminate the troublesome beasts.
“How many coyotes do you think we’ve killed in the past year Wayne?” Nathan asked, his eyes still fixed on the open field. Wayne squinted before replying. “Might want to reevaluate that question their good buddy. I’ve gotten enough to cover the house in pelts, but I can’t remember the last time you’ve hit anything other than your head on that low hanging beam in the basement.” Nathan was, to be frank, a poor shot.
Nathan’s head snapped around and as looked to Wayne. “Well now you’re just tellin’ a tall tale, I shot one not but three months.” He replied loudly, his voice raising a few decibels. “It was already dead and just lying in the field. You just peppered its carcass is all. I figured you were celebratin’ because you’d managed to hit.” Wayne still didn’t turn to face Nathan as he spoke, but that did not stop his friend from becoming more incensed. “Now hang on just one minute, I’m leagues ahead of Wilson as a shooter!” Wayne sighed, “And you know for a fact that Wilson don’t shoot so that’s kinda like sayin you’re a better skier than a parakeet.”
Before Nathan could reply, a rabbit burst out from the undergrowth which preceded the tree line a hundred or so yards off. Within moments, a coyote emerged from near the same place. Its long loping gait would have eventually allowed it to catch its furry quarry. Wayne popped up from his seat, the butt of the rifle shoved against his cheek. A shot ran out following a simple squeeze of the trigger. Wayne lowered his rifle, leaning it against the chair after clicking the safety on. He looked to Nathan, who hadn’t even risen out of his chair. “And that, good buddy, is why you’ll never be as good a shooter as me.” His friend shook his head before the two trotted down to see to Wayne’s kill.
A few minutes of quick work with a knife and Wayne had slung the coyote’s carcass across his shoulders. Nathan walked awkwardly behind him, carrying the two folding chairs which they had been sitting on. As they neared the homestead, Wilson sat on the back porch. His sleeves were rolled up near to his elbows and his forearms were covered in a bit of blood though not his own. “What’s the bustle there Wilson?” Wayne called to him.
Wilson adjusted his position, letting his legs better hang off the short drop of the porch as he clapped his hands together. “Well good buddies, let me tell youse. I was driving up the lane this morning readying for today’s labor when two dang coyotes shot out in front of my truck and damned if I didn’t just plow right through the pair of them. I just finished cleaning them out, oh say fifteen minutes ago.” He pointed to the carcass slung across Wayne’s shoulders and said, “Guess that clears up your problems at the coop then doesn’t it?” A rare smirk came across Wayne’s face as he responded, “I believe it does. Hey, thanks for carrying the chairs then Nathan.” Nathan dropped his head, defeated, as the other two laughed.
Several hours later the trio were posted up under the large front porch. It was painted white though the color had started to fade from several years of sun and weather. It was large enough to feature a swinging bench and allow for the three grown men to sit in those same type of chairs that Nathan had carried earlier comfortably. Three cans of beer were all cracked and held snugly in each man’s hand. Sometimes the farm life was rather relaxing.
“Remember them city fellers from a couple weeks ago there Wayne?” asked Wilson. Wayne stared straight ahead and nodded. He put the beer can to his lips and took a drink. “What about them Wilson?” His chunky friend let out a rather loud belch before responding. “Heard they was back in town today. Tammy down at the builders company said so. Peeled through town right quick in a fancy sports car.” Nathan’s head turned, looking at Wayne. “I vividly remember you tellin’ them not to come back Wayne.” Wayne, however, stared straight ahead and said nothing. The sun was setting and it would be dark soon. “No use thinking about it now. That’ll be a situation for us to handle tomorrow.” Wayne finally said. A few hours passed, his friends had departed, and it was nigh time for sleep. Tomorrow there would be a reckoning.
Wayne hadn’t been asleep for more than a few hours when he heard the sound of a door slamming outside. He instantly awoke, though still groggy from his interrupted sleep. He drew back the curtains from his second story bedroom window just as he heard a ‘whoosh’ sound, like all the air had been taken out of the room. A split-second later a huge flash lit up the darkness around him and an intense heat pressed against his figure as he was thrown back from the window into his dresser. Relatively unharmed, he rose to his feet to hear the sound of tires squealing as someone peeled out from the lane. The far side of his bedroom blazed wildly, fire licking the ceiling and walls. Black smoke began to fill the room.
Shielding his face from the heat, Wayne backed towards the door. He fumbled for the door knob and upon finding it opened the door, half-stumbling into the hallway. Out of the heat, he regained senses and called for sister. “Michelle! Get up! Fire!” A few moments later his sister burst out of her room down the hall, coughing and hacking, with a blanket wrapped around her. The smoke from Wayne’s room began to drift into the hallway. They ran towards the stairs and quickly made for the front door. The ancient timber joists of the house began to groan as flames found their way to them. Brother and sister burst through the front door and ran near the edge of the front lawn. Most of the first and second floor, centered around Wayne’s room, burned wildly. There were tread marks from the tires in the lane. It didn’t take an expert to figure out that this was deliberate.
Michelle had left her cell phone in the house and it was too risky to go back inside. They sat together on the lawn, watching the home that their great grandparents had built burn. Both of them were stone faced. There were little tears to go around between the both of them. They were made of tougher stuff than that, though to say it wasn’t an emotional moment would be a bald-faced lie. Roughly forty-five minutes later the fire department did show up. Despite the fact that Daniel’s property was almost three miles away, with the flat terrain and absolute darkness (there were no highway lights this far out), the initial flash had awoken the older man. He drove out to investigate and upon seeing the fire called it in.
By the time it was extinguished, most of the second floor had burnt away and collapsed into rubble. The first floor was ruined by the second story’s collapse. Nathan and Wilson had driven up as soon as they heard. By morning, most of the local authorities had left and it was only Wayne, Michelle, and his friends who remained. Very little was spoken until the sun had come up. The four of them sat on those folding chairs (one of the few things that was salvaged) on the lawn.
“The community will pull together for you two. You’re too good of people for them not to.” Nathan said, trying to be positive. “Anything you two need and we’ll hop to it.” Replied Wilson. Michelle thanked them and they began to discuss how to pool their efforts. Wanye said nothing and simply stared at the rubble. The discussion went on for a couple of a minutes until he finally did speak.
“This won’t stop.” The others stopped talking and looked to him. “This is my fault.” A cacophony of voices rose up to dissuade him from this line of thought but he raised his hand towards to get them to stop. “I think it’s obvious that these thugs from out West want revenge for what I did to both of those men. So I’m going to go over there and find them and make this problem stop.” He never took his eyes off of the burnt out shell of his former home. Michelle instantly protested her brother’s decision. Wilson stared at the ground and kicked a stone. “What if they come back here Wanye? Nathan asked.
“Pretty sure they want me, so I don’t think that’ll be a problem. Say they do though, you tell them where I’m going. They’ll find me or I’ll find them. Either way.” His mind was made up, that was plain to see. “Wilson, I need a ride into town. I’m taking the first train over. I’ll be back as soon as things are sorted.” His sister hugged him, Nathan shook his hand, and Wilson began to walk over to his pickup. The two of them hopped inside and waved goodbye. Wilson turned about in the lane before hitting the road toward Stows. Nathan and Michelle were left to pick through the rubble.
“I know why you think you have to do this good buddy, but maybe that was it for those fellers. Maybe you can just stay. I can still turn this ol’ truck around.” Wayne was hunched over, his hands cupped over the cigarette he had put between his lips. He flicked the wheel of the butane lighter, the spark catching, and in a few seconds he exhaled a stream of grey smoke out of the rolled down window. “You know I’m going Wilson. I appreciate the sentiment, but I don’t think these people are going to stop coming until they get some real measure of revenge against me. Burning the house down was a start. I’ve got to do this, and that’s the last I’ll say of it.” The rest of the ride was silent. There was a sense of dread that hung in the cab of the truck.
Wilson pulled into the parking lot of the tiny train station in Stows. Most of what was shipped into the town was seed and cattle. Few people actually left Stows. Even fewer came to visit. Several workers were hauling off sixty pound seed bags. Wayne opened the passenger door and hopped out. He looked at Wilson. “I’ll see ya when I see ya next friend.” He shut the passenger door and turned. Wilson wasn’t sure if it was the last time he’d see his childhood friend or not.
Wayne walked over the line of freight cars stacked up, nodding to the workers. He had gone to school with some of them. Most normal folks would’ve probably headed into the station to try to secure passage but some things in small towns came easier to their larger than life figures. He made his way up to the engine car, the conductor sat on one of the metal steps. “Howdy Wayne, it’s been a time or two since I’ve see ya last.” Wayne nodded, the conductor was named Jameson, and was an old friend of his fathers. “It has James. I’ve a favor to ask of ya.” Jameson beckoned him to ask, turning his hand with an open palm. “If this train’s headin’ back west, I need to hitch a ride. I’ve got business in the big city.” One of Jameson’s eyebrows rose as he responded. “Aye, she goes west. You can ride Wayne, though I’m not sure what business you have in that place. Your father never gave a care for it.” Wayne looked at the ground and flicked the butt of his cigarette there, crushing it with the heel of his boot.
“I don’t fancy it myself, but there times when a man’s got to go against the grain.” His father’s old friend nodded. Wayne turned, passing by some of the worker’s again before hopping into an empty feed car. He pressed back up against wall of the car. The last of the cars had been emptied and the fuel for the train restocked. It felt like forever, but a loud whistle pierced the air and the train lurched forward. He’d arrive tomorrow. Wayne was westbound and down.