~~~
The population tended to welcome strangers, and to mind their-own business... They stayed to themselves and in an objectified circumstance... He-never mentioned that he was wanted for-murder. There was something about purgation in the expanse and situated West... That tended to avoid the law. Possibly, in the remnants of a once lawless West. It was somehow poetic to the gendarme of allusion in the fighting against the establishment. This sometimes lead to good men, losing their lives, in the lines of a ‘glorification’. And that too, had its implications. So in all this, Bo was actualized, understanding and contemplating. It would take further interpretation, the listing of facts and the deducing of factors to account for David’s evasiveness... ...It was impractical to find him in some exaggerate place; just carrying on in a normal contention. No, the instance of him alone, running from the law; meant he was calculating within ‘slights’ and ‘parameters‘, no-one knew. He-decided to question the work so far by the investigative-team, he’d intentionally left them out of his circle; yet knowing, they’d do some of the leg-work…
He’d been in-touch with his-operatives in Washington… ‘It seems much has changed since our last contact, three weeks ago…’ ‘But it seems the courts have a multi-murder and the Feds want him on crossing state-lines. Its all F.B.I., the Federal courts say he’s going-up for 30.’ ‘I figure he’s going to get 20-to-25 years...’ ‘They’re serious as long as he’s on the run; he’s in ‘big trouble’…’ Said Angela, she’d been covering all the bases, and now she was ‘sure’. She was only, partly humorous about things such as these. Cinched-between certainty and a succinctness he had to work between legal ‘cross-hairs’... David’s case was fast becoming a question of by what statute; a case of death and demise. The Feds didn’t have him, which for David meant stones would be over-turned to find him… She also commented, they were pulling-out all the stops. And if David was still active it would be traced-back to him. It was becoming like a self-circumstance, a ‘dark-horse’/‘blade-runner’, that would appear just like anyone-else… While he was wanted for an abominable incident. In the movies, only captured when his ‘humanity’ was proven at his own destruction…
Bo-wondered if David knew he was after him, Bo was closer to him than any Federals. He’d known men to run from the best crime-solvers yet the illustriousness of lawlessness meant more to those lost-on choices that relinquishing, a manner-of-crime. The propounding case, with locale and legitimacy, that was by an incourse; that was by self-composing so as that was why they ran… Yet he was not sure of what went through his-mind. Thus, the magnitude, if he was running while deceiving and falsifying what had occurred and in odiousness-imparted upon life-of-defiance; and deception was in-fact an assertive-of ‘assonance’… Bo thought on this deeply, definitively and despotically, as a variant. He decided to do a three-prong, search, significance and addendum. He verified in Texas, Arkansas and Mississippi some had seen him there and heard that he’d been seen by others. Yet Bo didn’t lock-in his ‘bet’… Bo knew how cunning the perpetrator could be, some ran to somewhere and others-from; but there was the few who had the availing of a ‘stop-over’. Perhaps, by what was a resolve or intending to re-find an element of peace or solace; no one but a few knew about. The few that tended to be superstitious thinking on it awhile, or in on a ‘hunch’.
...Adapting them in adjunct and edict. But they all come to realize as un-impose, but things change... In what is a slight-variance, a duly autonomy; by what was a disturbed understanding they’d have reason to leave behind… Yet, in this, they’re ‘in-the-open’. It becomes fundamental to find other suitable-places. Establishing a safe-haven which worked the first-time. Eventually, running out of ‘homage’ then hoping to resurrect a freedom-stolen; gets caught or killed by their choice… Bo hoped David didn’t follow this syndrome. Yet Bo knew a number of his symptoms, yet rarely had he’d used them; but now, there was going to be structure, a mentality and method, even-handedly. The teams would use diagnosis and prognosis of action. An order of instigation not especially, mis-messaging the careful ‘theme’-of-things. He’d started in Oklahoma City. That would be the standing-point from the deduction, that would ensue… …It was November 18, the late rains and cool Northern-front came down and made for a few dreary days. As he formed the facilitation of time and aura, the tangential-stance and stigma… Oklahoma was a large oil and cattle state. Few forests as Washington rainfall typical, travel-one of the least-restrictive. Its cities tended to be developed by success agri- and petro-men. Most of the state was undeveloped.
Large-ranges, with few residents… As he traveled he had noticed troopers were sparse. And in the city, law was centered around hardship and protection, where-needed. Areas of growth were independent… The economy and community depended on business-‘hubs’; today entrepreneurship was fast-growing and the wealthy ‘Barons’ either joined-in or was now-shrinking. He had read the papers and jobs were in the operations-sector. That was interesting, and many oil-operators worked on consigning by months and years. Bo Jon thought in-terms of legitimacy. How easy was it for an assailant for murder to fall into hiding. Jon was sophisticated and well-trained. As the sun-rose over the sky-line, he decided David had fell on welcoming-hands. He knew the assisting individual was some promulgating-hand. Someone that had the means to function, without legal contention. He thought he’d question workers whose main concern was working their position. The local shop diners where vocational-personnel, handed-over... This dimension seemed obvious yet he gave it a ‘twist’; those hiring with skills in David’s expertise…
He arrived back at the hotel around 9 p.m. meeting with employee hungry hirers he found it was relatively sound to hire, right out of the gate. And that, many times out of state. Oil-catting was a rigorous and dutiful-job. Only those who had potential, were hired. He-found that most patronized the diners. He said the proposition of that, for last. The duties of riggers was to work long hours, be capable and be accurate at almost. But no where was there a regiment of work protocol. They had the job if they could do it. That was the ‘parable’ easing easily into possibility and then leaving. The turnover rate was high with men coming and going without proprietary deviation. The possibility-growing that a man such as David was hired then moved-on. He then narrowed his search down to ‘division’. Between work and rationale. By the next-day he was objectifying, conceiving of men working, without a past… Visiting the diners of wild-catters was like going to a dichotic haven; ‘hive’ of off-handed, employment. The basement of bottom-line tasks-workers.
The nominal field-of fixture, functioning from all across Oklahoma and the set-prowess deviate, defiant and predisposed men. Often, losing out in other fields hard yet ‘honed’ men deeded skills to work and life unadorned. Not loss of superficial, semantically or sensation. These men were rugged radically, deposing and adamant. It was no wonder a man down on his luck could station himself here. But in a way they were a strange, poetic. The working-class where ever you found them deserved respect if only out of onus. He studied the very enterprise. Like military-duty was first rate, otherwise they lead sometimes dejected-lives. Questioning, correlating and comprehending the orientation so obvious kept men on their job. Yet there was one aspect he focused-on; work-history, serious men they were, he’d abdicated in that sense. Awareness and intervals, fell silent with many workers history. Drunks, former-felons, domestic-violators and loners-of different-accords had found place-here. It was as if everyone unwanted with enlisting-skills could work this, was a ‘psyche’… David, would be invaluable. A serious worker, no history and maybe making a fortune in months...
Yet he could not stay in one-place; also ‘not’a necessity. His-best hope was work, and move-on. What was his motive; one, when and how to move-on, was a preposition-entailed. He thought mostly of the individual, which he studied in contention from status to discharge, this was a ‘breeding-ground�
��... Not wanting to get started with the law it was obvious, he found a confiding-’oasis’. He asked many hirers of all-beginning and ending-resources in the last three-months. There was about 20-individuals ranging from out-of-state, foreign and in-state. Some had returned to prison, others returned-home and some went to other less ‘risky’ employment and a few left without reason; this, was about 12... He then began to work. He wanted-to find prompt, before prevalence. Each one was identified with the considerate-of-terms. Most adjusted to informing, on quitting job-less complexity, and conciliation. ...But there was one, who’d lived quite nearby for only two-months. Left, and went East, reason; better work… This could have been simple-circumstance; yet his supervisor said he wasn’t seen with anyone he’d known elsewhere...
He was cared-for, and other people liked him. He just came and went. David had watched the fire rise and how things burned as he done operationally. Unwanted and devised then, accidentally, in what had been an instrument had now been an incidental occurrence. Yet as he had watched he remembered in flashbacks. He’d given over to it-survived and ritually, overcame… But now it was, curtailed by coincidence. Another ‘apparition’ to proclivity understood, exacted and harbored. He no longer-wanted, to give to ‘properties’. He was no-longer willing, to absolve to it. As he began looking for a place to live, he wanted to forget those ‘experiences’; that exalted ‘the flame’. Things that burned. In the town of Fire Creek, Tennessee he thought maybe he would turn-over a ‘new-leaf’. He saw that a help wanted sign sat outside a small farmer’s market. He inquired, inside… Working in the out-of-doors in a quaint-area could ease his-mind and refound, himself and perhaps live a normal-life… He was told fresh vegetables in a farmer’s market required working from dawn-to-sunset…
He’d worked in the fields of Arkansas with cucumbers during harvest they-hired him on the spot; making seven dollars an hour; as much as a time of ‘simple-pleasures’, solitude and a settled, commitment… David had again found, sanctity-with another ruralous solitude; the small-town was quiet and secluded sitting-in a valley. The main-street there was no oil-rigs and no expanse but ‘forests’. In Tennessee, everyone had a Southern-charm. Of the yeomanry going-back to Antebellum, easy-going and simple; Fire Creek, had one store a post-office and a town-hall. Nothing, too elaborate. As November eased into early-December. David’s work, slowed. The tomatoes, lettuce and blueberries crops were done. He stayed on utilizing the funds he’d saved. He spent his time fishing, fixing-up his garden and helping others. As a result, they welcomed him into their community… David’s attitude had began to adjust. He went to church, helped build housing, donating his own money and doing-errands. He drove to Memphis to help a family see a specialist and took them out to dinner. He became a welcomed member of the community. By Christmas he spent his time decorating and seeing that everyone had a gift.
In a small town not much occurred without notice. The older gentlemen, talked a lot. About what went-on years ago… The women did their laundry and took care of children. The town’s main-source of income was the railroad. The rail-workers gathered at 4 a.m. and drove to the depot and went about fixing, keeping trains-on time and switching tracks. One of the older gentleman was the local-train master-retired. He’d been from Washington to the East coast on train-lines. He was worldly, and had much learned expertise. He kept the papers, and was the volunteer librarian having a considerable number of books. He was a pillar of the community. As David went about stocking his wood-stove supplies for Winter he only coincidently, noticed the flame-fodder he fed the timber to the flame which glowed red and green. He knew how to set the wood to burn when it was ‘ripe’. How, much burn, was left. This, as a surprise; for his competence had remained. He had helped the old-folk gather-in seasoned wood for the best burn and lasting. He was so skilled at preparing wood, he was asked to work with the wood-cutters. He marked trees, helped out choosing the best and the least-productive trees.
He was working again which was good, his money had been running-out. He’d explained that he was once a forestry agent. The wood-cutters could use a good-tree marker… The Fire-Creek wood-haulers worked until Spring. He made a profit as a tree_keeper. Marking trees for cutting and setting-up areas for future-growth…he was so good at catching trees the vastness of 220 acres was done by February. The weather was not too bad that Winter. David had reached a reserve, as his pursuing had terminally, reached his last conclusion to his whereabouts... Bo Jon’s case had taken him through three-states and now, that left Mississippi. He’d returned home to Nevada. After Chris went through the routine of a killer’s next of kin… After the F.B.I. questioned him the media-route did all-they could to gain ‘insight’ in to the now, ‘mystery’. Bo had not told everything he’d learned. It was obvious the case was growing into what was an intuitive, extent. Now after six-months, it was cooling but Bo Jon didn’t give-up that easily; in fact it was good the ‘cues’ of the public, were no longer spotlighted on him. As Chris began to realize he was the best-bet on the situation. Bo and David had duty, pride and challenge that was obligated-between them…
End.
Nine
Sequoia Trail-A Bo Jon Littlehorse P.I. Novel. Second Edition Page 18