by Bobby Akart
Colton glanced toward the girls, who both smiled and shrugged. Madison mouthed the words why not?
“If you don’t mind,” said Colton. “We could use a solid night’s sleep.”
“Let’s do it, then,” said Hilton. He motioned for a couple of young men who stood off to the side, admiring Alex. “Wilbur, look here. These folks are stayin’ the night with us. Take their truck to my place and lock ’er up. Also, rustle up some gasoline for it. Top off the tanks, please, sir.”
“Okay, Mr. Hilton.”
“Jeremiah!” barked Russ.
“Ride with Wilbur and tell my missus that we’ve got three guests for the night. Then get the Hilton opened up. We’re gonna have a shindig in two hours. Now, go on, boys, make it happen!”
“Yessir!”
Colton looked at his old friend inquisitively. “The Hilton?” he asked.
“C’mon, I’ll show you,” replied Russ.
Hilton escorted the Rymans into the center of the small town and gave them a brief history of Saltillo. It had started as a small town in the eighteen hundreds and remained a small town in the twenty-first century. It was isolated from major highways and was not an attractive destination for tourists. Hilton couldn’t remember the exact reason that he and Lisa had chosen to settle in Saltillo. When they’d passed through looking for property years ago, the town, he said, just felt like a good fit. Now, Hilton stood larger than life in the middle of nineteenth-century farmhouses and Greek Revival buildings.
“Wait, hold up,” said Colton, bringing the entourage to a halt as they emerged in the center of town. “This street sign reads Russ Hilton Way. Really?”
“Why sure.” Russ laughed. “Dolly Parton has her own road in Pigeon Forge. The town decided I should have my own road too.”
“Is this the main drag?” asked Alex.
“It sure is, Alex,” replied Russ. “Now, Rymans, of the infamous Ryman Auditorium, may I present to you, drumroll please, the Hillbilly Hilton.”
Hilton put his arms around the Rymans and turned them toward a building in the center of town. It looked like a rustic lodge out of the mountains. Built of logs and river rock, the structure towered over the street. At the peak of the roof line was a sand-blasted wood sign that read Hillbilly Hilton.
“Wow!” exclaimed Colton. “Russ, I had no idea. This is incredible!”
“Thank you, Colton.”
“It looks like the Country Bear Jamboree at Disney,” added Alex.
“Good eye, little lady,” said Russ. “It’s a pretty close replica. Lisa and I would take the kids to see that mouse, but all they wanted to do was hear the bears sing.”
“It’s wonderful, Russ,” said Madison, glancing up and down the street. “But, I mean, is there enough population around to support it?”
“You know, we built it for ourselves. Colton knows what it’s like at the end of a musician’s career. You play the grand venues for a while, then you start to taper off into Branson or the Stockyards or the Dew Drop Inn. We decided to find a good place to raise our family and build our own Music City. Tell ya the truth, we don’t charge admission. We don’t sell beer or drinks. We don’t even open on a regular basis. We’ve got a BBQ pit in the back, and every once in a while, we open up and I play a few sets—like tonight.”
“You’re gonna open tonight?” asked Alex.
“Yes, ma’am,” replied Russ. “Me and your daddy are gonna play a few sets together, aren’t we, Colton?”
Colton turned pale. “I don’t know, Russ.”
“C’mon, Colt,” encouraged Madison. “It’ll be fun.”
“Oh, gawd,” groaned Alex.
Chapter 43
DAY EIGHTEEN
8:00 p.m., September 26
The Hillbilly Hilton
Saltillo, Tennessee
Madison and Alex sat with Lisa after filling their bellies with pork barbeque, baked beans, peanut slaw, and fried hush puppies. They were introduced to the newest addition to the Hilton family, young Wyatt Thomas Hilton. Lisa lamented about how Russ had tricked her into naming their baby boy with the initials W-T-H—what the hell, which were the first words out of her husband’s mouth when she told him she was pregnant. They once thought five kids was plenty. God gave them Wyatt, and now they loved their half dozen more than life.
The house was packed with the citizens of Saltillo. They all came by to say hello to the Rymans during dinner. Some told stories passed down from generation to generation of how Captain Tom Ryman’s riverboats used to pass by Saltillo, moving commodities produced in the south from East Tennessee, Alabama, and Georgia to the Mississippi River.
“Good evening, folks!” shouted Hilton over the noisy crowd. His voice boomed without the need of a microphone. Everyone gradually settled in and turned their chairs toward the stage, where Hilton sat on a stool with his banjo, accompanied by a large man who wielded a big bass cello like it was a violin. Colton joined them on a stool and was meticulously tuning a guitar.
“Most of y’all have met my friend Colton Ryman and his family. Let’s give ’em a big round of applause to welcome them proper.”
The room burst into applause and everyone smiled at the big round table containing the Ryman girls and the Hilton family, which was located at the front of the stage.
“I was one of Colton’s early clients, way back when, but we quickly became pretty good friends. But one thing he and I never did together was play a few tunes. So he agreed to join me and Big Willie on the bass, if that’s okay with you folks.”
“Yeah!”
“Let’s hear it!”
“It’s time for a happy hoedown!”
The crowd laughed at this last suggestion. The boys in the band whispered among themselves and they got ready. Russ got it started by clapping his hands.
CLAP—CLAP—CLAP!
CLAP—CLAP—CLAP!
Everyone in the crowd started clapping in unison and then Russ started stomping one foot in unison with the rhythmic clapping. He nodded to Big Willie, who began to slap the big bass.
THUMP—THUMP—THUMP!
THUMP—THUMP—THUMP!
The house was rockin’, and the boys began singin’.
We’re born in the mountains, but it ain’t the place we call home.
Lord knows, good times were there, don’t ’member why we roamed.
On the Tennessee River, we’re good ole boys, we get together, singin’ this song.
My Tennessee River, why did you call, now we play together all night long.
Russ took the lead as the crowd continued to stomp their feet.
Me and my woman’s done made our plans, walkin’ with the good Lord, hand in Hand.
Gonna raise a family, Lord, settle down, with six young’uns in this sleepy town.
The boys in the band sang the chorus.
On the Tennessee River, we’re good ole boys, we get together, singin’ this song.
My Tennessee River, why did you call, now we play together all night long.
Now it was Colton’s turn.
My name is Ryman, I’m a Texas boy, but Nashville called, ’cause music runs in my veins.
Been on the road runnin’, done been shot at, plumb wore out, lookin’ for a place to rest my brain.
The crowd joined in the chorus.
THUMP—THUMP—THUMP!
On the Tennessee River, we’re good ole boys, we get together, singin’ this song.
My Tennessee River, why did you call, now we play together all night long.
Chapter 44
DAY NINETEEN
8:00 a.m., September 27
The Hilton Residence
Saltillo, Tennessee
Colton and Madison enjoyed an intimate night together for the first time in weeks. The relief provided by crossing the river and the stress-free environment of Saltillo allowed them to wash away the cares of the world for one night.
They came down the wide, sweeping stairs of the Hilton home to the smell of sausage cook
ing on the cast-iron stove. Alex was already there, playing with the Hilton kids.
“Good mornin’, honored guests!” greeted Russ. “Have you enjoyed your stay at the Hillbilly Hilton so far?”
Colton gave his friend a firm handshake and then a bro-hug. He’d had a great time last night, and for about ten hours, they’d forgotten about the post-apocalyptic world that had chased them to the quiet town. Reality set in when he glanced out the bedroom window and saw the Wagoneer backed in front of the house, pointing south toward Shiloh.
Lisa Hilton finished feeding the children and then sent them on their way to take care of the baby and other chores. The adults and Alex settled around the kitchen table and enjoyed the hearty breakfast of sausage and grits, with fresh milk from the Hiltons’ cows out back.
“Look, Colton, I’ll cut right to the chase,” started Russ. “We’d like y’all to consider staying here in Saltillo. I know our little town doesn’t seem like much, but it’s safe. We grow our own food, we’ve not had any trouble, and the folks in town like y’all.”
“Man, thank you, Russ,” said Colton, looking at Madison and Alex to gauge their reaction. “We sure feel welcome and I think we could get along well with everyone. I mean, of course, we’ll talk about it after breakfast.” The sound of thunder rolled off in the distance.
“Please do,” said Lisa. “We’ve got a house picked out for you guys. It isn’t big, you know, like what you all are used to, but we’ll help you make it into a nice home.”
“Thank you, Lisa,” said Madison, glancing at Colton as she finished up her meal. “We’ll definitely talk about this some more after breakfast.”
“Fair enough.” Lisa smiled as she stood up and cleared the plates. Alex and Madison immediately joined them and approached their sink, half of which was already full with soapy water. Lisa provided instructions on the dishwashing method they employed to conserve water.
“Okay, seriously, Colton,” started Russ. “I know we talked about Savannah. Ma and Junior should not be messed with. Those two are nuts and administer revenge without hesitating.”
“I think we’ve already crossed them,” said Colton. “We kicked an angry hornet’s nest down there. It’ll take a while for them to settle down.”
“I know. I saw the lead stuck in your fenders.” Russ sat back in his chair and crossed his arms across his chest. “She’ll find you.”
“I know, Russ, which is why we have to leave. We can’t endanger this many people by staying here. I couldn’t live with that.”
Russ smiled and leaned forward to pat his friend on the back. “You’re a big boy and I respect what you’re sayin’. We can handle ourselves too, you know. Besides, we’re tucked way up here in the corner of the county. Saltillo is one of those, you know, you can’t there from here places.”
Colton laughed. “You’ve got that right. Any more, you can’t get anywhere unless you have a horse and a canoe.”
“So where are y’all headed?” asked Russ.
Colton thought for a moment. He’d put his friend, and the beautiful little town, at enough risk. The last burden they needed to shoulder was the Rymans’ whereabouts.
“It’s safer if you don’t know, Russ. But I’ll say this. We’ll be close enough for me to have another go at that guitar on stage with you someday.”
Chapter 45
DAY NINETEEN
9:00 a.m., September 27
Hooker’s Bend, Tennessee
Madison admonished Colton for not discussing the decision with her and Alex first, although she wholeheartedly agreed with him. Saltillo was a beautiful town and the residents had come together as a family. Madison had seen enough of the evil that lurked within Ma Durham and her offspring Junior. She didn’t want their trail to lead to Saltillo, resulting in harm to any of those nice people. In addition, there was the sense within the Ryman family that they were on a mission. They wanted to see their journey to the end—come hell or high water.
The Rymans followed the route that took them south along the Tennessee River until they could cross Highway 64, their next big challenge. Their fuel levels were no longer an issue, thanks to the generosity of the good people of Saltillo. It was only thirty miles from the outskirts of town to Shiloh.
Just fifteen minutes into the countryside, the Rymans were reminded of the benefit of The Weather Channel on DirecTV or the Internet to provide them today’s travel forecast. They began to experience raindrops falling on the windshield, and dark storm clouds began to form to their south and west. Colton picked up speed the best he could, but the Wagoneer and the approaching storm were destined to collide.
By the time they arrived in Hooker’s Bend, where the Tennessee River took a pronounced turn, the rain was pouring down on top of them, and the wind began to bring visibility to near zero. The loss of the windshield wipers to the lady marauder on the Trace was now coming back to bite them in the butt.
“Guys, this is not good,” muttered Colton as he pressed his face to the windshield to follow the road. “I’m afraid I might get two wheels off the shoulder and land us in a ditch.”
“Daddy, even if we go ten miles per hour, we’ll be there in a couple of hours.”
They’d experienced a number of roadblocks since they’d left Nashville—all man-made. Now, they faced a more common method of impeding progress on the roads, natural obstructions like fallen trees, floodwaters, boulders and mud slides.
Colton continued on the road as the storm worsened. Low-lying areas began to fill the road with water, causing them to hydroplane slightly despite their slow speed. The inside of the windshield began to fog up from the increased anxiety within the car. Madison diligently wiped the window with a cloth, silently cursing the old Wagoneer’s ventilation system for not doing its job.
BOOM!
A lightning strike hit on the hill just ahead of them and to their right, causing everyone to jump and scream. Colton reacted by turning the steering wheel hard to the left, and then as the rear of the truck began to skid on the slick road, he whipped it hard back to the right, overcorrecting the truck’s course. It was too much and they spun around, finally resting in the middle of the road, pointing in the opposite direction towards Saltillo—just as a large oak tree split in half by a lightning strike came crashing across the road, blocking their path.
“Enough,” said Colton dryly. “Let’s find a place to park and ride out the storm. When it clears later, we’ll get going again.”
“No arguments here,” said Madison.
“I totally agree,” added Alex. “Besides, I think I need to check my pants.”
Chapter 46
DAY NINETEEN
3:00 p.m., September 27
Glendale Road
Coffee Landing, Tennessee
“Being on the road makes us an easy target,” started Colton. “Let’s pull in here and wait for the weather to clear.” Colton navigated the Wagoneer up the clearing created by the utility company for the massive overhead power lines that crossed the road. They bounced along the makeshift road until they reached a point where the trees provided some cover. Colton steered into the woods and then the wheels started to spin.
He had unknowingly crossed a dry creek, which was rapidly filling with rainwater. The soft, silty bottom sucked the rear wheels of the Wagoneer deeper into the quicksand-like earth. Colton put the truck into reverse, attempting to back out of the trees. The rear tires spun in place as the rear end of the Wagoneer dug in deeper. He attempted to swap between forward and reverse, creating a rocking motion to get them out. It didn’t help. They were stuck.
“Great,” muttered Colton as he slammed the steering wheel with both hands out of frustration. “God, we’re so close. Please.”
Everyone remained silent while Colton allowed his anger with himself to subside. They’d been through so much, and now this. He began to second-guess everything—leaving Nashville, not stopping in a secluded spot elsewhere, and turning down the offer to remain in Saltillo.
/> Finally, he let out a deep breath and laughed nervously. “Let me go take a look. Y’all wait here.”
Alex looked out at the pouring rain and answered, “No prob.”
“Honey,” started Madison, “I’ll help you. What can I do?”
“Give me a kiss for starters,” replied Colton, who was determined not to let this get them down. Madison happily obliged and reassuringly touched her husband’s face. The rain had slowed somewhat and the tree canopy helped catch a lot of the rainfall.
Colton exited the truck and found that he’d gotten the Wagoneer stuck in a big way. He considered building up rocks, gravel and logs in front of as well as behind the tires to give them some traction. But his repeated spinning of the tires had created a perfect mold of mud around the rear wheels. He began to wonder if they’d ever be able to get the truck out.
“Congrats to me.” Colton laughed as he returned to the front seat and shut the door, bringing a spray of misty rain with him. “I did a great job of putting us out of business.”
“What’s the plan, Daddy?”
Colton leaned back against the driver’s door and allowed his head to smack the window as self-inflicted punishment. “I don’t know, Allie-Cat. I guess we’ll have to hoof it.”
“Fine by me,” said Alex.
“What about our stuff?” asked Madison.
Colton hadn’t thought about this. If anyone came across the Jeep, they’d take everything. He immediately began to look around the woods. He envisioned several hiding places, including across the clearing and away from the embedded Wagoneer.
“We can do this, y’all,” started Colton. “We’ll pack the absolute necessities to get us these last fifteen miles to Shiloh Ranch. We’ll keep our backpacks as light as possible. Everything else, I’ll hide in the woods around us. We’ll have to write down where everything is in case I forget.”