the Hill (1995)

by Scott, Leonard B

  Ty picked up Jason’s bag and tossed it in the backseat. Jason whistled and kicked the Black Widow’s front tire. “Nice, brother, real nice.”

  Ty lifted the hood and motioned toward the spotless engine. “Flathead V8 that’s made for draggin’, rolled and tucked seats for cruisin’, and a stud behind the wheel ready for lovin’. Jay, I’m R-E-D-D-Y, RED-Deeee for action!”

  Jason laughed and threw his good arm around Ty. “Just get me home, will ya?”

  The two got in the car and in minutes were on the open road. Ty couldn’t help but cringe as Jason told him how he had dislocated his elbow and of the doctor popping it back into place. Jason lifted the slung arm. “… and since then it hasn’t hurt that much. Throbs a little, but the sling really helps.”

  Ty glanced at Jason with concern. “Will you be ready for spring practice?”

  Jason was silent for a moment and looked out the window. “I won’t be playing this spring. I lost the scholarship.”

  “What?”

  Jason spoke evenly. “Duggin is pulling my scholarship at the end of the semester. Don’t say anything to anybody … and don’t be shocked when I flat out lie to Dad and Mom when they ask me about spring ball. I don’t want them going into debt to keep me in school.”

  Ty couldn’t concentrate and pulled off the road, stopping the car. “What the heck ya gonna do?”

  Jason smiled and raised an eyebrow. “Would you believe, join the Army?”

  Ty’s jaw dropped. “The Army? No way, brother. Duane and Mom will never let it happen.” Ty broke into a nervous laugh. “The Army, are you crazy?”

  Jason’s smile dissolved. “It’s too late; I joined. I’m leaving the middle of January for Fort Bliss, Texas.”

  “Damn, Jay, you can’t mean it!” Ty could see by Jason’s expression that he wasn’t kidding, and he spoke softly. “You shoulda told me. I have four hundred dollars left in the bank, I would have given it to you.”

  Jason shook his head. “Thanks, but I couldn’t have taken your money or anybody else’s. I gotta make it on my own … come on, I need a hug from Becky. Kick this black bucket in the ass and get me home.”

  Ty pulled onto the road, upset at the news, knowing his mother would take it very badly and Duane would become even more of an ass to live with. “When ya gonna tell ’em?”

  Jason leaned back in the seat. “After Christmas. Until then it’s just our secret, okay?”

  Ty didn’t like it but nodded. “Okay, but you know it’s gonna break Mom’s heart.”

  Jason didn’t respond as he looked at the passing plowed fields.

  Becky tried to catch her breath and lightly pushed Jason back. “Let’s get in the backseat.”

  Jason sighed. The Mustang’s bucket seats sure weren’t made for making out, but getting in the small backseat wouldn’t be any better. He held his sling out. “You know how you are. You’d probably break my arm. Let’s go somewhere with some room.”

  Becky brushed back her hair and quickly started the car. “Let’s go to my house and watch the late movie. My folks will be in bed.”

  Jason leaned over the stick shift, giving her a light kiss before sitting back. “I’ve missed you so much. Now that football is over I can come home every weekend and make up for lost time.”

  “You’ve got me shaking all over. Do you know how good it’s going to be next year when I get to Central with you?”

  Jason nodded in silence, feeling his stomach twisting into a knot. He wanted to tell her, but it wasn’t the right time. He closed his eyes, knowing deep inside that there would never be such a time.

  Ty pounded the nail into the stud as Jason held the board flush with his one good arm. Ty had gotten up early to work on the cabin and was surprised to find Jason sitting at the kitchen table waiting for him. He’d said he couldn’t do much with one arm, but he wanted to help. The two had worked all morning putting up the wall siding.

  Ty finished pounding in the nail and slipped the hammer into his apron loop. “Jay, I gotta be honest with you, I didn’t want ya to help me. I had it in my mind I’d build the whole thing by myself.” Ty broke into a smile and patted Jason’s back. “But I gotta say I’m sure glad I changed my mind. You’re darn good help.”

  “You’re just saying that ’cause I’m cheap.”

  Ty laughed and picked up another board. “You got it.”

  Jason was about to pick up the other end of the board to help him when a car horn honked.

  Ty let the board drop, seeing Becky’s blue Mustang pull up to the gate. She got out of the car carrying a large basket and a jug of iced tea. She was wearing blue jeans and a football jersey.

  She raised the basket as she approached. “Lunch time, guys. Take a break and eat some of my good fried chicken.”

  Ty tossed down his hammer and slapped Jason’s back. “I’m the boss and I didn’t hear any lunch whistle. We’ve still got work to do.”

  “Come on, boss,” Jason said, “we need a break. We can’t turn down a good-lookin’ woman.”

  Ty looked around. “Where?”

  Becky threw paper napkins at him in mock anger. Ty opened the basket. “Okay, okay, I’m easy. Let’s eat.”

  Thirty minutes later, the three of them climbed up the hill to see the view. Becky stepped gingerly along the trail, avoiding the piles of cow manure.

  Jason abruptly halted and said to Ty, “What kind of tracks are these?”

  Ty glanced at the prints in the soft soil. “A badger. He was huntin’ last night and probably got himself some young rabbits.”

  “Badgers don’t eat rabbits, do they?” Becky said, making a face.

  Ty squatted down, looking more closely at the animal’s tracks. “Yep, they sure do. Badgers are bad news and meaner than snakes … y’all want to see where this one lives?”

  Becky glanced nervously at the ground around her feet. “You know where his hole is?”

  “No, but we can track him right to it.”

  Becky shook her head in disbelief. “There aren’t any more tracks. You’d never find it.”

  Jason laughed and patted Ty’s back. “You’ve got to be kidding. This here is Ty Nance, a gifted Kiowa hunter who has the spirit of the buffalo. I’ve seen him track coyotes, raccoons, even wild turkeys. Who do you think has put the turkey on the table for the past four years?”

  Becky rolled her eyes. “Bull. You guys are full of it.”

  Jason shrugged his shoulders. “Woman, you are doubting the very best.” He waved his hand at Ty. “Brother, if you would be so kind as to demonstrate to this nonbeliever.”

  Ty smiled and took a few steps and waved Becky over. “Look at this carpet of leaves. See how they’re not broken or crumbly? Now look at this one and this one. See the difference? They’ve been stepped on. He’s heading straight, so that means he’s going back to his hole. If his trail meandered it’d mean he was searchin’ and sniffin’ around for his meal. These tracks tell us he found what he was looking for, got full, and headed straight home. They’re nasty in their eating habits, ’cause they leave the rabbit heads to mark the boundaries of their hunting grounds. Even coyotes won’t mess with ’em.”

  Becky nervously looked around her feet with renewed interest. “I’ve seen enough, I believe. Now let’s go on up the hill. If that thing eats bunnies he might decide to munch on my feet.”

  Ty laughed. “Okay. Come on. This Kiowa hunter is boss and we’ve got work to do.”

  “What about me?” said Becky, pouting.

  “You’re going to help,” Ty said.

  “Great, and I thought with the good food I could convince your brother to ravish my body.”

  Jason winked at Ty. “How about it, boss, ravish or work?”

  Ty pointed toward the trail. “Work first, ravish later.”

  Jason put his arm around Becky and started toward the path. “Somehow I knew he was gonna say that. I haven’t taught my little brother worth a damn.”

  8

  Deep within t
he rugged, jungle-covered mountains, just seven miles from the Cambodian border, an American battalion began its march up a narrow valley known as the Ia Drang. North Vietnamese scouts of the Sixty-sixth Regiment, Eighth Battalion, stood on a hill overlooking the valley and saw the unit’s first company break out of the jungle and cross a small elephant-grass meadow. The scouts immediately ran down a narrow path to report what they had seen to their commander.

  The tall, silver-haired regimental commander sat by a huge sayo tree pondering the information he had just received. His regiment had already had two battalions decimated in the past week’s fighting, but this was an opportunity he could not ignore. The Eighth had time to set up an ambush and pay back in kind what American artillery and bombs had done to his men. The Americans were moving to a large open area at the mouth of the valley and would walk directly into a well-set trap.

  Standing, he spoke to his operations officer, who was seated by a radio. “Tell him to wipe out the Yankee battalion.”

  The Eighth Battalion’s colonel smiled, seeing the lead American company approaching. He would please his leader with the victory. Newly promoted General Bin Ty Duc would be leaving the regiment command position to become the newly formed First Division’s commander. If the ambush was successful, his leader would surely ask him to join his command as a staff officer. General Duc was a true master of warfare and would be a prominent leader after the reunification. To be with such a man assured a prosperous future.

  The colonel turned and nodded to his company commander, who immediately dropped his hand. The valley’s silence was shattered by machine-gun fire.

  The first Americans were caught in tall elephant grass with no place to take cover and were mowed down along with the green stalks. The noise of battle steadily increased into an ear-shattering roar as more and more of the colonel’s men brought their weapons to bear on the exposed enemy.

  Taking cover behind a tree, the colonel yelled over the noise to his radioman, “Tell General Duc we are engaging!”

  9

  Jimmy Higgins pushed open the gym door and looked out into the rainy night. “Ty, can I hitch a ride with ya?”

  Ty walked out of the locker room toward the door. Basketball practice had lasted until seven again. “Sure, Jim, you can ride, but for a price.”

  Jimmy shrugged his thin shoulders, “All I got is a dime, man.”

  “Naw, I don’t want money,” Ty said, “but how’s about letting me score a few points next practice? Ya makin’ me look bad.”

  Jim smiled shyly. Ty hunched his shoulders before making the dash toward his car. “Come on, Skinny, ya ain’t gonna melt.”

  Ty ran into the parking lot and swore as he approached his car. The side window was down. He opened the door and slid into the seat, hitting something. He began to feel for what it was when an overwhelming odor hit him. “What the …”

  Jimmy got in the car but quickly got out, waving his hand in front of his face. “Damn, Ty, you openin’ a liquor store?”

  “Aw, shit!” Ty got out of the car and swept a soggy paper bag holding a broken bottle of liquor from the front seat. “Some son of a bitch is gonna pay for this. Damn, Skinny, somebody threw a busted bottle of booze into my car.”

  Jimmy got back in the Ford and rolled down the window. “Come on, I got supper awaitin’.”

  Ty mumbled as he slid in behind the steering wheel again and started the car. “Who the heck would do somethin’ like that?”

  He pulled onto Canal Street and sped up to thirty-five. He was about to push down the signal lever when a red light began flashing behind him. “Damn, ain’t Cliff got nothing better to do than hassle us?” he said. Twenty-five was the limit on Canal, but nobody ever kept to that.

  Ty pulled over and rolled his eyes at Jimmy. “This will be the normal five-minute lecture.”

  Sheriff Hamby leaned into the car window with a flashlight in his hand. He began to speak but smelled the whiskey and jerked back. “I’ll be damned, it’s true! Get outta the car, boys, and put your hands on the hood.”

  Ty slumped his shoulders. Cliff had an official tone to his voice tonight. He musta been watching “Highway Patrol” again. “Come on, Sheriff, it’s rainin’,” he complained.

  Hamby opened the car door and waved his flashlight in Ty’s face. “I got a call says y’all was drinkin’ in the school parking lot, and it sure smells like it to me. Git out, boy, or I’ll run your butt in right now.”

  Ty slid out of the seat as Jimmy tried to explain what happened. Hamby shined the light on the floor, then leaned over and looked under the seat. He froze for a moment and reached under it, pulling out a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels. Ty’s eyes widened, and he began to speak, but Hamby barked, “Shut up, both of ya. You’re both in serious trouble.”

  In the darkness, parked two blocks away, sat two men in a red Chevy. Melvin Summers smiled.

  Duane paced back and forth in front of the sheriff’s desk as Hamby read the list of charges. “Speeding and possession of an alcoholic beverage with the seal broken. The charge of driving under the influence is dropped for insufficient evidence.” Hamby raised his bloodshot eyes from the report. “Neither one of the boys had liquor on his breath, and both of ’em passed the sobriety test. I don’t like it no more than you do, Duane, but I gotta charge Ty with the first two counts.”

  Duane stopped pacing. “Who called and said they were drinking?”

  “Don’t know who it was,” Hamby said, leaning back in his chair. “It was a man’s voice. He just said he was a concerned citizen.”

  Duane slumped in one of the side chairs. “Can we handle this between us?”

  “Wish I could, but I can’t when it’s dealin’ with liquor. Ty is gonna have to go before the justice of the peace and get his fine pronounced. It’ll cost him seventy-five for the open bottle and fifteen for speedin’. I ain’t a lawyer, and I’m not supposed to tell you this, but the best bet is just pay the fine and forget it. He’s still a minor in the eyes of the law. It’s a good lesson, and nothing will go on his permanent record.”

  “Shit! I knew something like this was going to happen.”

  Duane began his verbal lashing as soon as Ty was released. Ty remained silent and walked directly for the table to collect his keys and billfold.

  “Look at me, goddamnit!” Duane snarled. “You have shamed your mother and me. The whole town will know about this tomorrow morning. How are your mother and me gonna face them?”

  Ty put his billfold in his back pocket without looking up. He started for the door, but Duane grabbed his arm, spinning him around, and pushed him toward the table. “No, you don’t! You’re not going anywhere until you apologize to me and tell me where you got the bottle!”

  Ty jerked his arm free from Duane’s grip and glared coldly. “I’m not apologizing to you or anybody else ’cause I didn’t do anything.”

  Duane stepped forward, menacingly raising his hand. Hamby quickly blocked Duane’s path. “Settle down, Duane. You can’t be hittin’ your boy!”

  Duane backed up, shaking with rage. “Then lock him back up! I’m not signing for him. A night in jail will change his mind about drinking.”

  Hamby ran his hand through his thinning hair with annoyance. “Be reasonable, Duane. It don’t look good for the kid to be locked up. Mea ain’t gonna like it, and it costs the town five dollars. Take him home and settle down, will ya?”

  Duane ignored Hamby and pointed a finger at Ty. “This is a lesson you won’t forget!” He picked up the release form he’d signed earlier and tore it up as he went out the door.

  Ty got up stiffly from the mildewed mattress and blinked his eyes to accustom himself to the light. Hamby tiredly opened the cell door. “Your mom signed for ya.”

  Ty shivered as he glanced at his watch. It was midnight. He walked into the office and saw his mother sitting by the desk with a look on her face that broke his heart. She held an expression of worry, love, and disappointment that only a mother could h
ave.

  Mea hugged him without saying a word and handed him his car keys and billfold. Ty began to speak, but she raised her hand and touched his lips. “Just go home, honey. I know you didn’t do it. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  Ty began to leave but turned and hugged his mother again. “I love you, Mom.”

  Mea nodded in silence and motioned him to go. She wiped her eyes and sat down, looking at Hamby. “Cliff, tell me exactly what happened again, please.”

  Jimmy saw Ty leave Coach’s office with his head down and knew something was wrong. “What’s up, Ty?”

  Ty walked to his locker and suddenly exploded in anger, slamming his fist into the metal door. He threw the door back and ripped off his jersey.

  Jimmy sat down on the bench behind Ty and spoke softly. “What happened, man?”

  Ty threw his shoes into the locker and spun around. “The damn school board voted to throw me off the team! That asshole Summers told them I’d already made trouble this year. Can you believe those bastards! They said because of my ‘history’ and because I paid the fine I had admitted guilt.”

  “What’d Coach say?”

  Ty’s eyes lost their fire. “He did everything he could. He even pleaded with them, but the do-goody assholes wouldn’t listen. I’m through.”

  Jimmy looked up at his friend with sympathy. “I’m sorry, Ty, it just isn’t right.”

  Ty lowered his head. Damn those self-righteous bastards!

  Ty walked in the school cafeteria door and paid his quarter to see the first game of the season. The Meyers High cafeteria was a long, single-storied brick building attached to the gymnasium. Both buildings had been constructed several years before and were the only modern additions to the fifty-year-old school.

  He had mixed emotions about going to this first game of the season, but he didn’t want people to think the school board had gotten the best of him. Besides, he had to get away from the house. Duane had become impossible to be around. Every time his stepfather spoke to him the words were venomous. The tension had been so bad between them that even Thanksgiving had been ruined. The family had sat through the entire meal in nervous silence.