"You wouldn't dare!” remarked Ben, choosing to ignore the reference to Johnny. “You've a wife and child to think of."
Without another word, Ted eased his way into the water of the raging river trying with all his might to keep his footing as the current pulled at him. It was all he could do just to hang onto the trotline, and not be swept away. Fear of being snagged on one of the hooks, or having a submerged log ram him in the back caused him to have severe abdominal cramps. He took several deep breaths to dispel them, and then waited a moment for them to subside.
He could feel the jerking of a fish of considerable size about fifteen hooks down the line from where he stood. He was beginning to have serious doubts about making it that far, the water was up to his chest already, but he wanted the fish for Faden. He continued to feed the line through his hands, inching his way along. He heard Faden calling out for him to come back, but was at this time only some five feet from the fish. The shifting sand washed out from beneath his feet, and the current jerked the line out of his hands. The one thing that all Red River trotliners feared the most then happened to him. He was caught below the third rib on his left side by one of his own hooks. The velocity of the water, coupled with the tension of the line, made his chances of surviving, minimal. His head went under, as his body was held horizontal to the riverbed. He drowned while trying unsuccessfully to get his knife out of the pocket of his shorts.
Ben made what appeared to be a Herculean effort to rescue the man. He strode into the river then went under the water as if his feet had been washed out from under him, although he knew exactly where he was in relation to the spacing of the fish hooks on the line. He broke the surface of the water some twenty feet down stream of where the line was located. All he could do then was to strike diagonally for the shore. There wasn't a mortal man who could swim against the current when the river was in this stage.
One of the experienced fishermen dove into the water well upstream of the line. He angled for the east pole, which was in the middle of the river. He rested briefly, steadying himself upon reaching the pole. Taking a deep breath, he pulled himself down the pole until he could brace his feet against the sandy bottom of the river. He heaved up on the pole pulling it free of the sucking sand. He then held onto the pole with the trotline still attached, and much like a water skier, let the river current swing him in an arc to the safety of the shore. He was assisted out of the water by some of his friends as others cut the lifeless body of Ted Casteel free of the line.
Everyone from the town agreed that it was indeed a black day for the community when one of their native sons died in such a manner. They could not for the life of them figure out why Ted had gone into the river, knowing the futility of the situation. All of the Beaver Point merchants closed up shop the day of the funeral. There wasn't a single soul to be seen on the streets during the memorial services, so well loved had Ted been.
The honorable Ben Roachman was not in attendance. He had been so traumatized by the events that he had to be sedated and hospitalized for several days following the unfortunate death of his dearest friend. He sent along his most sincere heartfelt apologies to the widow and her son for not being able to deliver the eulogy for Ted.
The truth of the matter was Ben was so deliriously happy that he was afraid his good humor would be recognized for what it was. The boy had a glimpse of his joy when Ted had gone under. Ben's laughter of triumph after emerging from the river had been mistaken for the onset of nervous anxiety, and for the sake of discretion, he played along with this presumption.
He allowed a suitable amount of time to elapse, then began to pursue Chelsea in earnest. He desired her more than he had ever desired anyone or anything in his life.
It was her love for her departed husband, which made her all but shun Ben's advances. She turned to her aging father for comfort and guidance, never realizing she was signing his death warrant with her actions. He had moved from the nursing home where he was residing to the farm so he could be closer to her. He had been residing in the home since the death of his wife, more from being lonely, than any sense of helplessness.
Her finances were in better shape than ever. Ted had gotten a life insurance policy worth a small fortune, and insurance at the bank, which paid off the farm loan upon his death. She now, for the first time, owned the farm lock, stock and barrel, free and clear of debt. With things looking up the way they were, it was just one more sign of her misfortune that the brakes went out on the pick-up truck as her father was backing down to the ravine to dump the household trash. The truck rolled over seven times on its way to the bottom, breaking the old man's neck and killing him instantly.
Sheriff McClure allowed it was a damned shame, but just an unfortunate accident all the same. From all the signs he presumed it must have been a sawed off mesquite stump, or perhaps one of the many outcroppings of rock that had broken the right front brake line, allowing the fluid to escape.
Ben was eight miles to the southwest at the time the truck rolled into the ravine. Deer hunters had spotted him standing on the Highway 70 Bridge. They watched, as he appeared to throw some objects into the roiling waters below. The significance of his actions never occurred to them until much later.
Ben watched as the oily spot surfaced on the water, then dissipated as the current carried it downriver. He knew that the chisel and ball-peen hammer would never be found.
It took Ben another six months of soulful ass-kissing with Faden to achieve his goal and have his innermost desire fulfilled. He finally got what he wanted and a lot more than he bargained for in the process. Chelsea had seemed to be somewhat subdued while married to Ted, but she was altogether different with him. He had originally been attracted to her because of her endurance to pain, but had not realized it came from an inner strength that would give him more trouble than it was worth. He had planned to brush Faden aside as if he were a fly, and have with his way with Chelsea.
She had other ideas on the matter. Ben could rattle her teeth and she would usually just take it in stride. The trouble began between them when he attempted to discipline Faden in the manner he himself was familiar with. She became a lioness, fangs bared, protecting her cub by using mental and physical abilities he hadn't been aware she possessed. She would come up fighting if he so much as laid one finger on the boy. She had dealt Ben a mortal blow by threatening to expose his abusive side to his parishioners. This was something he simply could not allow to happen.
Ben had made several bad business ventures, blowing not only what cash he and Chelsea possessed, but also most of the church money as well. The farm had been sold shortly after their marriage to pay his personal debts. Chelsea had then hired on at the local feed store to do bookkeeping. Ben became suspicious when he learned that she was actually earning four dollars per hour instead of the two-fifty she had told him. She was apparently rat-holing money, which to his way of thinking could only mean one thing ... she was saving money with which to leave him. He had to teach her a valuable lesson, soon.
Ben and Faden were in the small workshop at the back of the rectory. Faden was near tears and sobbing uncontrollably. Ben had discovered six dollars in the pocket of Faden's jeans that was unaccounted for. “Where did you get the money?” screamed an overtly irate Ben.
"I earned it picking up trash around the Dairy Queen parking lot.” quavered a very frightened Faden.
"What have you been told, time and again, to do with your earnings?” inquired Ben, as he flipped the switch of the electric bench grinder to the ON position.
Faden watched with morbid fascination as the grinding stone picked up speed, becoming an indistinct grayish blur. “I was going to turn it over to the church when I had accumulated ten dollars.” He wasn't about to tell Ben that his mother had told him not to say anything about the money. It had been his own foolishness for leaving the money in his pocket that had him in this predicament. He subconsciously backed away from the grinder.
"I don't believe you had any such i
ntentions. I think the best thing for you to do now would be to give me that silly, worthless pocket watch your grandfather left you. It is small atonement for you, but just maybe the Lord will accept it as a token of your faith. He might even consider it restitution for your sins against HIM."
Faden lied, and said, “I don't have it with me!"
Ben grabbed him by the arm, and slowly, inch by inch, forced him to move nearer the whirling rock of the grinder. He folded the rest of Faden's fingers into a fist, leaving the index finger poking straight out. With agonizing determination he began to push the fingertip against the porous surface of the stone. Pieces of fingernail, flesh, and bone flew in a spray of bloody gore throughout the shop, much of it landing on Ben who seemed not to pay it any heed, so intense was he in his evil creativity. Carnage hung from the bare bulb of ceiling light, stringing down to form a puddle on the earthen floor. Ben's face was unrecognizable as anything remotely human due to the red mask he now wore. Faden was relatively protected from the bloody mess by the shield of Ben's body.
Faden began to scream when the finger was down to the first knuckle. If asked, he would have replied that it felt like a bad scrape. Shock was rapidly setting in so the pain as of yet, was bearable. It was the blood, flesh, and bone fragments that caused him to kick up such a ruckus.
Ben slapped him hard across the face, and then instructed him to hold his injured hand above his heart. “You see what you made me do?” he shouted at the terrified boy, as if it had been all his fault. He then drove Faden to the hospital, taking his merry time about doing so. He told everyone it had been a childish accident ... that Faden had been messing with something he had no business playing with.
Faden didn't contradict the story as Ben had forewarned him that his mother would suffer a fate which would make what he had just experienced seem like a walk in the park. Faden had not a doubt to Ben's sincerity.
The episode with the grinder only served to whet Ben's appetite for sadism. He learned of Faden's claustrophobia quite by accident. He had once told the boy to sleep in the upper berth of the motor home when they were camping. After being awakened in the middle of the night by Faden's weeping, he had made him spend the rest of the night outside by himself. The fear of the dark and things that go bump in the night didn't have the effect on Faden that Ben had hoped for. It was only close, confined places that struck fear into his heart.
The last time he put Faden into the closet had been his undoing. Chelsea had come home early from work and demanded to know where Faden was. She had made an anonymous phone call to the police department before leaving work, explaining that she suspected foul play afoot at the Church of Higher Power. She had told of seeing what appeared to be young vandals casing the building. She would have been hard pressed to have to tell what had made her make the call and leave her job early. Perhaps it had simply been a mother's intuition that led her home on what would become ... THAT FATEFUL DAY!
Ben met her at the door, but was unable to block her entrance into the house. She brushed by him as if he weren't there. She shouted for Faden, then guided by some unknown force, headed purposely for the bedroom. Ben caught up with her and swung her around by the arm. He then struck her on the face with his closed fist. She hit the floor as expected, but bounced back up with agility usually associated with much younger people. She slapped him hard across the face sending his bifocals flying to the far side of the room.
Instinctively he struck her again, this time adding a hard shove to the breast area for good measure. His surprise turned to amazement when she tried to rise to her feet again. He had hit men twice her size, half as hard and achieved more favorable results. He grabbed the glass lamp (which had been a gift to her from Ted), and brought it down upon the back of her defenseless head. The blow itself may not have been fatal, but the shard of glass, which entered the soft tissue of her temple, certainly did.
He remained calm as the blood spread across the floor of the bedroom, but then the little heathen in the closet began to scream bloody murder. He knew he had to stop that God-awful yammering so he made his way to the closet door, paying little attention when he stepped in the blood as he twisted the knob. It would take quite a bit of imagination to falsify the evidence, but he believed he could make it look like she had killed her son, and then committed suicide. It was in the middle of this thought that he heard the rapping on the front door.
Sheriff McClure, fearing the vandals had broken in, surprising the occupants, strode through the house with his pistol drawn. Taking the scene unfolding, in at a glance, he leveled his gun at Ben as he saw him pulling the struggling boy from the closet by the hair of his head.
Ben was arrested and held in the county jail. His court appointed attorney got the charges reduced from murder to manslaughter. He was found guilty by a jury of his peers, and sentenced. He was led from the courtroom, proclaiming his innocence with one breath, while swearing his vengeance against Faden with the next.
CHAPTER III
Sinda Rilla Davenport was born on the sixteenth of June, 1964. She was to have been the icing on the cake in the Cinderella love story of Skate Davenport and Ruby Oscar. Ruby's family founded the town of Oscar, Oklahoma, and she lived her entire life there.
Skate was a roving roughneck who followed the oil field to wherever it might happen to be at any given time. He hired on to the Oscar's rig, never intending on staying after the drilling was finished. But that was before he met the breath taking Ruby. The beauty of the seventeen-year-old girl was already legendary in the oil patch of Southern Oklahoma.
Oil had been struck on her father's land in 1916. He had become a wealthy man from the sale of the oil, but detested the process of recovering it. He cared little for what it did to his grazing pastures and would have much preferred to simply tend his cattle. He amassed thousands of acres by paying his hands to settle on the land. Once the property had been proved on, and filed, then he would purchase it from them for one dollar, plus six months wages. The hands had no use for the land, as the cowhand of the time was notorious for his inability to put down permanent roots anywhere.
Ruby was an only child as had her mother and her mother's mother, been. Something in the make-up, or something lacking rather, in the Ranson women made pregnancy and birth a treacherous event, not to be undertaken without considerable thought.
Ruby had flaming locks of the reddest hair imaginable. The tresses fell to below her waist. She had the complexion of a China doll, and a build that guaranteed no man of mortal blood would be taking only one look. Her eyes were cobalt blue, and her personality went far beyond sweet. She was a rich girl in more ways than simple monetary gains.
She was never rude to any of the hired hands, be they ranch workers, or oil field. There wasn't a man in a fifty-mile radius that didn't worship the ground she walked on. Not a single hand would stand for any talk against her. In a land of rock, sand, mesquite and rattlesnakes, she was a natural born goddess, and no one more deserving.
She could have had her pick of the elite, from Oklahoma City to Dallas, or for that matter, any man of her choosing. This was the reason everyone was so shocked to learn of the love she had for Shake. Her picking one of THEM, endeared her even more, and made her a champion of the working class. No one really knew of the events, which led to the union of the two, nor could they have told you themselves.
Shake stood six feet two inches tall in his bare feet, and was as skinny as a rail. He was by no stretch of the imagination, handsome, but was constantly jovial and a lot of fun to be around. He was known for his practical jokes and was considered the most footloose of the bunch. He had earned his nickname, Shake, by virtue of having survived an earthquake while working in the derrick. There was one in every crowd, and it was always turning out to be him.
His chance encounter with the lovely Ruby had come about one day while they were moving the rig to another location. He had spied a horse tied to the bumper of the Tool Pusher's pick-up truck. The jokester side of him couldn
't resist the temptation that the opportunity presented. He chose the oldest trick in the book as far as saddled horses were concerned. He placed a cocklebur between the saddle blanket and the horses hide. He then hid behind a tool shed to watch the festivities.
He would have gladly died, and was struck momentarily speechless for the first time in his life when he saw the gorgeous creature place a small boot into the stirrup. He would have given anything to have the burr back, even if it meant having it shoved up his ass. He tried to stop her, and then had to stand in horror as the horse threw her the moment she sat in the saddle. She landed in an unmoving crumpled heap on the hard-packed earth. He raced to her side to assist her in rising, and was immediately set-upon by the other hands. It would be hard to surmise how far they would have gone in their thrashing, had it not been for Ruby.
She saw what was happening to Shake, and pleaded with the men to stop. Shake was as stunned as the others to find her laughing. He didn't know whether it was from him getting a beating, or if she had shaken something loose when she landed. She explained that the irony of the situation was that she had pulled the same stunt on her best friend just that very morning. In fact, she had been out to the rig to hide from her father and her friend whom were hunting for her at this very moment.
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