by C. G. Cooper
“Why do you shoot them?”
“They get into everything. Had a friend lose close to fifty chickens in one night. Another lost half a dozen calves to a pack of coyotes. In fact, I’ve been meaning to take a few out myself, just haven’t had the time. What do you say we head out after dinner and see if we can’t bag us a few?”
I nodded silently, eyes on my plate.
“You do know how to shoot, don’t you?” he asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Now, let’s not go back to this Sir business. You don’t have to come with me, but I sure could use an extra set of eyes. Mine aren’t what they used to be. If you don’t want to shoot, you can spot for me.”
Every fiber in my body wanted to say no, but instead, I said, “Okay.”
+++
Darkness fell as we setup in the second story silo above the barn. Hollie brought two shooting mats for us to lay on, along with a night vision scope and his Garand 30.06 rifle. I asked him about the beautifully maintained weapon.
“Got it as a gift after I came home from Korea.” He didn’t explain further and I didn’t pry. It seemed that Hollie had his secrets too.
“How does it shoot?” I asked.
“Well, I’ve never put a scope on it, want to keep it like in the old days, but even without the scope I can get a decent grouping at five hundred yards.”
“Not bad.”
“You know anything about guns?” he asked.
I nodded
We gazed out into the fading light, stars beginning to twinkle overhead. I took a slow breath, feeling the familiar anticipation.
+++
We didn’t have to wait long for the coyotes. They slinked their way into the rows of corn that stood waist high, taking their time, almost like window shopping. “Five dollars says they’re heading to Mrs. Nettle’s chicken coop,” whispered Hollie. “Probably looking for groundhogs.”
Hollie settled behind the sights of the Garand, nuzzling it, an old friend. “I can’t see a damn thing. Must be my eyes. Here, see if you can. I’ll spot for you.”
Reluctantly, I took the weapon, checking the safety, eight rounds inserted with the World War II era ‘en bloc’ clip. Running a hand along the smooth wood stock, I settled back onto the mat, breathing slowed, my old rhythm, eyes over the iron sights.
“Can you see ‘em?” asked Hollie.
“Yes.”
“You ever fire a Garand? It’s got a little more kick than what your generation is used to. Just sayin’.”
“I’m okay,” I said, simply.
My focus narrowed, tunnel vision encompassing the small portion of field, like an internal spotlight highlighting the target area.
“Fire whenever you’re ready, son.” Hollie watched expectantly through his night vision scope.
Breath in. Slow breath out. BOOM. Shift. BOOM. Shift. BOOM. Shift. Coyotes scattering. BOOM. Shift. BOOM. Coyotes bolting for the woods. BOOM, BOOM, BOOM. Eight rounds. Eight kills. The clink of metal as the clip ejected from the rifle, flying into the air, falling to the ground. Silence.
Hollie turned his head slowly my way as I checked the rifle’s chamber out of habit, placing the weapon back in my host’s hands. I rose, suddenly exhausted. “I thought you said you knew a little about guns.”
I shrugged, climbing onto the ladder leading down to the ground.
“Hold on. That was some shooting. Eight hits at almost two hundreds yards, near dark.” He stood up, I could see the look on his face. I didn’t want it. “Where’d you learn to shoot like that, son?”
I looked up, struggling to hold back the emotion in my voice. “Marines.”
Lowering myself to the ground, I went looking for my ruck sack, and the bottle of whiskey whispering to me in the dark.
Chapter 4
Snake Eyes! Snake Eyes! The call screamed in my head, desperate, pleading, dying.
“Daniel?!” a more muffled call came. “Where are you, son?”
Hay rustled as I shifted around. I was in the barn again. The last I remembered was taking a walk in the fields with my bottle of whiskey, trying to forget.
My bowels clenched as I struggled to stand, holding my stomach. “I’m in here, Hollie,” I called.
A moment later, the barn door opened and Hollie entered, once again shotgun peeking through first. “Daniel?”
“Right here.”
“What are you doing in here?”
I shrugged, making my way into the daylight.
Hollie looked at me, wanting to ask questions, instead, after a pause saying, “I’ve got some breakfast cooking. You come over when you’re ready.”
I watched him walk toward the house, me struggling to have the courage to face him. My bowels answered for me, and I hustled to the house, making a B-line for the bathroom.
+++
This time it was country ham and eggs over-easy. Hollie waited patiently, saying Grace after I’d taken a seat. We ate without talking, him probably wondering whether I should go, me wondering the same.
We finished, tag-teaming the dishes, still without a word. Hollie dried his hands and said, “Follow me. I want to show you something.”
Here it was. My out. “Hollie, I…”
“We can talk later, just follow me.”
I nodded, walking behind him as he took the steps to the second floor. Pictures scattered along the hallway gave me glimpses of how Hollie used to be. Young and strong, working the fields, married.
Turning a corner, we entered a small bedroom. Hollie opened the closet, pointing to an old foot locker with HERNDON stenciled in white on the top. “Can you lift that up onto the bed?”
I picked it up, laying the wooden box softly on the comforter.
Hollie opened the foot locker, slowly, reverently. He picked up a black and white photograph and handed it to me. It perfectly captured the youth and exuberance of a young Army Lieutenant and a pretty girl. “That’s me and Patty, right before I got shipped off to Korea.”
“You were a Ranger?”
Hollie nodded, looking down into the container, lifting out another picture. It was in color, a young man, face painted in olive and black, floppy boonie cover, M16-A2 cradled, a wide white smile. “That was my son. Ranger too. Lost him in ’92.”
I understood. My father hadn’t been a Marine, but plenty of my fellow Marines had followed in their family’s footsteps.
We sat down on the edge of the bed, Hollie flipping through photos from his time as a Ranger. “This one was right after a night raid when we destroyed the 12th North Korean division headquarters. Dicey night, but we took it to ‘em.”
The pictures of destruction, craters, and bodies, threw my thoughts to my time overseas, another country, another time. I listened politely as he told me his stories, obviously struggling at times. I could tell that he hadn’t shown his memories to many. Most of us didn’t.
“How did you end up here?” I asked once he’d replaced the album.
“Dad died while I was in Korea. As soon as I came back stateside, I finished out my commitment and took over the farm. Momma couldn’t run it by herself, in fact, the Laney family was trying to buy it from her, for a steal, of course. Dad hadn’t left much money. I dug in, got us out of debt, and I’ve been here ever since.”
Before I could ask another question, a horn honked out front. Hollie stood and pulled the lace fringed curtains aside. “Speak of the devil. It’s Max Laney.”
Chapter 5
“You stay here. I’ll take care of him,” Hollie said, already headed to the door. “Don’t come outside.”
+++
“What can I do for you, Max?”
Max Laney, standing in the shade of the porch, wiping his brow with a monogrammed handkerchief, motioned to his grandson who waited near the Lexus SUV.
“I heard you’re harboring a fugitive, Hollie. Doesn’t sound like you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have a friend staying with me, but he’s no fugitive.”
Laney shook his head sadly. “That’s not what I heard. Look at my grandson, got busted up pretty good the other night. Says it was your guest who did it.”
“I don’t know anything about that. Did Johnny tell you he was trespassing with three of his cousins yesterday morning, threatening me and my houseguest?”
Laney’s eyes narrowed, and he threw a glare at his grandson, who cowered slightly.
“Oh, he didn’t tell you about that? Maybe I should be calling the cops?”
Laney raised his hands. “Now, Hollie, there’s no need for that. Sounds like a couple kids having a toss. I seem to remember us doing the same thing a few years back.”
Hollie grinned. “You never could take me, even with your posse.”
Laney shrugged, no longer concerned. “I suggest you tell your guest to get out of Defuniak as soon as he can. Don’t know what might happen if he gets caught in town. It’s out of my hands.”
+++
I heard the entire conversation, surprised that Hollie lied for me. He didn’t have to do that. Why trust me?
A moment later, the Laneys left in a trail of dust. I heard the front door close, and went to meet Hollie at the stairs.
“You hear all that?” he asked.
“I did.”
“I can’t stand that son-of-a-bitch.” Hollie shook his head, then changed the subject. “I’ve got some work to do. You okay to help me out?”
+++
“Let me come back tonight and drag him out of the house, granddad. I can take care of it.”
Max Laney kept his focus on the road, scheming as he drove. He’d wanted control of the Herndon land for over thirty years. Every other property surrounding Hollie’s three hundred acres belonged to Max Laney in one way or another. Maybe he could use the situation as leverage…
“You won’t do a damn thing until I tell you to, you hear me?”
Johnny nodded, smiling. It was the first time his grandfather had mentioned taking action. He could wait. Knowing his grandfather, it wouldn’t be long.
+++
We spent the day touring the fields, taking soil samples, measuring moisture, inspecting the irrigation ditches. Hollie’s land was fed by a decent sized lake and several underground springs. “It’s why Laney wants it so bad. I’m one of the only self-sustaining plots of land in the area. He controls the water everywhere else. It’s how he got his hands on the others. Control the water, control the land.”
“How does he get away with it?” I asked, a complete novice to farming and land.
“It’s all just enough within the law. Of course, no one would ever say Max Laney applied any extra pressure. He’s an upstanding businessman, a man of the people. Doesn’t ask for much publicly, but if you want anything done in Defuniak Springs, you’d better believe Laney knows about it, and, more than likely, gets a piece of the pie.”
It sounded like the old west or the mafia to me. Maybe I was naive in the ways of modern business, but I couldn’t believe it could happen in the current age.
+++
Johnny pulled into Pappy’s Honkey Tonk gravel parking lot, next to four late model vehicles, taking the handicap spot. Chugging the last gulp of the Budweiser, he crumpled the can, threw it on the ground and opened the door to the bar.
It was smoky inside despite only two patrons sitting on stools, hunched over their drinks. A fat man behind the bar looked up at the sound of the door opening.
“Hey, Johnny. What can I get for ya?”
“Kelly in?”
The owner hesitated, assessing Johnny mood.
“She’s in the back.”
“Get me a shot of Jack and a Bud, then go get her.”
The owner put down the dish towel and moved to fill the order, Johnny taking a seat in the middle of the bar, keeping his gaze on the obese bartender.
“You know, you really should lose some weight, Wally,” Johnny jabbed. One of the other patrons snickered.
The owner’s face colored, but he chuckled nervously. “I know, I know. The wife’s been telling me that for years.” He set the shot glass in front of Johnny who took it and drank it, slamming the tiny glass down. “I, uh, maybe I should get back into the gym. Remember those days? You and me on the football field?” He handed the beer bottle to Johnny, hand shaking slightly.
“That was a long time ago, Wally. What’d you play anyway? Towel boy?” Another snicker from the drunk patron.
“Nah, hell. I was on the O-line with you, remember?”
Johnny nodded, sipping his beer. “Why don’t you go get Kelly?”
A minute later, a skinny girl with sun-streaked hair, jean shorts hugging her slight form, walked in from the kitchen. “Hey, Johnny,” she said tentatively, avoiding his eyes and the bandage on his nose.
“I need to have a word with you out back,” Johnny said, pointing his bottle at the young girl who looked no more than twenty years old.
“Uh, I’ve got prep work to do in the kitchen. Let me ask…”
“Don’t worry about Wally.” Johnny smiled. “It’ll just take a minute.”
Kelly looked around for support. Wally had stayed in the kitchen. The customers pretended not to listen. She was all alone.
“O—kay.”
Johnny pounded the rest of the beer and tossed the bottle behind the bar. “Next round’s on me, fellas,” he said to the others, one who looked asleep, but grinned at the offer.
Johnny led the way and opened the back door for Kelly, patting her rear as she passed. She knew better than to flinch.
Chapter 6
After helping Hollie dispose of the dead coyotes and various random farm chores, I showered and headed to the kitchen for dinner.
Fried chicken, greasy and steaming, sat waiting expectantly. “Dig in,” said Hollie, still tending the stove. “I’ve got collards coming too.”
I didn’t wait, starved. I’d polished off two succulent thighs before Hollie sat down, bringing the ham hock seasoned collard greens with him. As before, we closed our eyes for a quick blessing.
“You know, I really should be paying you for helping me out,” Hollie remarked, taking his first bite of chicken.
“I think I’m the one who owes you. How about we call it even?”
Hollie nodded, not saying anything while we devoured a good portion of the food. “How long are you planning on staying? I mean, I’m not saying you have to leave, just curious.”
I’d been thinking the same thing. It wasn’t fair taking advantage of his hospitality. “Not long. I’ve got some places to visit.”
“Home?”
I shrugged, not wanting to think about visiting family. That could wait, despite my mother’s pleas. She wanted me home. I wanted to be anywhere but.
“Do you think it would be okay if I borrowed your truck after dinner? I wanted to drive over to the bar and apologize.”
“Sure, but you think that’s a good idea? Might run into the Laneys again.”
“I’ll take my chances to make things right. Can you give me directions?”
+++
After helping with the dishes, I climbed into Hollie’s pickup and headed out to the main drag. It took me just under ten minutes to get there. There weren’t many cars in the lot as I pulled in, taking a moment to do a quick appraisal of the area.
Nothing looked familiar when I stepped into the bar. I must’ve been really drunk that first night. The bar stools were nearly full, but only one of the twenty odd tables held customers. No one looked up as I approached.
“Excuse me, is the owner in?” I said to the girl behind the counter, who was turned away from the bar, grabbing a handful of beers.
She swiveled around carefully, somehow holding six beer bottles in her tiny hands. Her eyes met mine, and she startled, almost dropping everything. “It’s…it’s you,” she said, almost in a whisper averting her eyes, one of which I noticed was ringed in red and purple. A new injury.
“I’m sorry, have we met?” I asked.
> Before she could answer, someone called out from the kitchen, “Kelly, get on back here and pick up this food.”
She looked at me furtively, purposefully trying to hide her black eye with her streaked hair. “I’ll tell Wally you’re here.”
I nodded and took a seat.
+++
“Why didn’t you follow him?”
“You told me to stay put, Johnny.”
Johnny fumed. His idiot cousin didn’t know how to take a shit without permission.
“You sure it was him?”
“Yeah. Blonde hair. Same guy.”
“Which way did he go?”
“Headed towards highway ninety.”
Johnny pictured the roadways in his mind, ruling out destinations. “Was Hollie with him?”
“No.”
“There aren’t many places he could’ve gone. Call me if he comes back.”
Johnny put his truck in reverse, squealing out of the drive.
+++
A man emerged from the back, wearing a grease-stained white apron. He scanned the dimly lit bar, his eyes finally settling on me. They went wide.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said.
“I don’t mean any trouble. I just wanted to stop by and apologize for the other night and see if there was any damage I could pay for.”
The owner looked at me, deciding which way to take it. On one hand, I was offering him money, something a bar owner never said no to. On the other, he was probably risking the wrath of the town’s thugs.
He pointed to the opposite end of the building where a jukebox pumped out an old Johnny Cash hit. I followed him over.
“You seem like a good kid, kinda drunk the other night, but you stuck up for Kelly…”
I put up a hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to interrupt, but my memory’s a little hazy. Can you tell me exactly what happened?”