Eviscerating the Snake - The Complete Trilogy

by Ashley Fontainne

  But I had to go clear my head before Monday.

  “I just don’t understand why you won’t take Juan or Manuel with you. You’re breaking your own strict rule that no one is to go out alone on overnight trips, especially during the spring when the snakes are everywhere. It’s too dangerous,” Stacy said, trying her best not to let her sultry voice morph over into a whine. “I told you I have a feeling about this; I don’t want you to go.” She removed her sunglasses and leaned in closer to me and whispered, “I’m scared, Robert, and not just because you’ll be alone or because I don’t want you to cross paths with an aggressive snake. I can’t put my finger on exactly what it is, but I just can’t shake this uneasiness in the pit of my stomach. Please, babe, stay? For me?”

  It took every ounce of strength and determination I had not to give in to her pleading, and I knew that if I didn’t leave now, she stood a good shot of swaying my thoughts over to the cool sheets upstairs that we just messed up earlier. I grabbed the reins and mounted my horse (rather than my wife) and smiled. “I can break my own rules because I won’t fire myself,” I said, reaching down with my free hand and stroking her long black hair. “Stop worrying, lover. I’ll be back before you know it. Besides, Sahara here hates snakes even more than you do, and I guarantee she will steer clear of them.” Stacy grimaced and quickly jerked her head away from my hand, putting her sunglasses back on with one quick snap of her wrist. She curtly dismissed me and turned on her heels, trudging off toward the house, her back rigid with anger. Sahara, sensing it was time to go, snorted loudly and stomped her front leg impatiently, awaiting my nudge to go. I took one final glance at the lovely backside of my bride and gave Sahara the cue. She responded with another snort and then took off out of the barn, her strong gait kicking up a cloud of pale dust behind us.

  I let Sahara have her head for the first few miles, relishing the hot breeze on my face and the strength of her muscles under my legs. The sound of her pounding hooves pushed out all other random thoughts in my head. The desert scenery passed by in a blur of colors as we made our way down to the interior basin of the first two hundred acres. Slowly, I eased back on the reins and coaxed Sahara into a mild trot as we were now entering more rocky terrain. I patted her dripping neck and cooed, “Good girl. Thanks for clearing my mind.”

  In the past few months, we had made this journey numerous times, and I knew that Sahara could find her way, so I relaxed the reins and let her lead. In a few miles, she would stop for a drink in Boulder Creek all on her own. It would take half the day to get out to the campsite anyway, and honestly, I was in no hurry.

  I reached back into my saddle pack and retrieved a bottle of water, slowly sipping as we made our way through the outcropping of cottonwood and juniper trees that would lead us to the peak of the vista as we made our way up the trail. I smiled as I surveyed the beauty of the blooming trees and brush flowers. They were just as vibrant and breathtaking as they had been in my youth. This was the first time since my college days that I was actually out in the wilderness during April since that was always crunch time for accountants. Unless you were dead, in a coma, or minus a vital appendage, missing work during hell month was not allowed.

  God, I sure didn’t miss those days.

  The last nine months of my life had been a strange conglomeration of varying emotions. The first few days after my arrest, I was suicidal. The weight of everything came crashing down on top of me all at once. My worst fear was that I would lose my precious Stacy once she found out she was married to a monster, one that kept a huge, dark secret from her for our entire twenty-five years of marriage. I shuddered a bit at the memory of those desperate hours when I had no idea whether or not she would stand by my side. Then I smiled inwardly, recalling the moment she walked in, attorney in tow, and bailed me out of jail. She never said a word to me in the process. She didn’t have to, for I could see in her big brown eyes that she wasn’t going anywhere. She held her head high with her shoulders thrown back just a bit, almost daring anyone to say something to her for standing by me.

  What an ironic twist of unforeseen events. Now, I rode atop my favorite horse, dressed in my old, dirty jeans and tattered cowboy boots, surveying the land that my father raised me to love, rather than rotting in jail. I was overcome with almost palatable serenity. No deadlines; no stressed out clients with their ridiculous demands on my time and energy; no being away from home and missing out on momentous events in the lives of my children; no ill-fitting monkey suits. No longer was I forced to view the outdoors through my window, and there were no more squabbling partners jockeying for the reins of the firm.

  No Olin.

  God, that was the best part—to finally be free of the heavy shackle he placed around my neck so long ago. For me, it was akin to being granted rebirth. The heaviness that I carried with me for so long, the nights of terror-filled dreams that were only dimmed by drunken stupor, were almost completely gone. I hadn’t had a drink in months now. To finally be rid of that dark, sordid secret, painful as it was to extract it, was wildly liberating.

  A few days after Stacy bailed me out, I sat down and told the whole sordid mess to her and the girls, the words pouring out of me, just as they had that day in the conference room. The difference was that this time, the emotional level was much higher. It was one thing to admit my part in Gina’s death to colleagues and cops, but to my wife and children—well, that was the worst. The shame, humiliation, and outright anger at myself—my inner weaknesses and stupid mistakes opened up in front of the three people that meant the most to me—was the most difficult thing I ever had experienced. Even the death of my parents paled in comparison. When I finished my story, I couldn’t even look up into their eyes, fearing I would see their love and respect for me gone, replaced with disgust and shock at what a horrible person I really was. To my never-ending surprise and utmost gratitude, my youngest, Shannon, with the wisdom of only the young and pure at heart, saved the day when she leaned over and held my hand and said, “Daddy, it’s okay. We know you didn’t hurt her. You couldn’t. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong friend. Shoot, you can’t even put down one of the sick cows. You have to have Juan or Manuel do it.” And then she smiled the most beautiful smile I had ever seen, her raven hair shimmering under the lights while we sat on the porch. Everyone started laughing at her candid comment. Stacy and Shawn immediately came over to where I was sitting and put their arms around me, embracing me for the person I was now, not the monster I had been.

  Remembering that day caused a lump to form in my throat and made my chest heavy with love. I knew from that incredible moment that I was truly a blessed man—that no matter what happened to me after that, I could handle it. My precious family was by my side and forgave the sins of the younger me.

  I focused my attention back to Sahara before I wound up blubbering like a baby. She slowed down as we came up the edge of Boulder Creek, and I swallowed hard and dismounted, letting her meander over to the water’s edge and drink her fill. I followed her, gently running my rough hands through her heavy mane. Staring out into the endless terrain in front of us, a tear of happiness made its way down my cheek. Even though I was alone, my hand instinctively jerked and wiped it away, smiling to myself as I realized I was just a big softie at heart. Being out here on my land that was just as surely a part of my family as my inherited genetics, I felt the sudden rush of peace and tranquility come over me. I felt lighthearted and carefree, which was exactly the reason I had come out here before the trial. I needed to commune with not only nature but the ground that held the blood of generations of my family, drawing strength from the dusty sediment as my ancestors once had. I tried once to explain the strange tie I felt with this ground to Stacy, but bless her heart, she just didn’t understand. She was a city girl, although years of living with me had somewhat “countrified” her, so I really didn’t expect her to have the same attachment to the endless, arid acres of land as I did.

  Sahara’s co
ld, wet muzzle brought me out of my lost thoughts as she playfully nibbled at my arm, her way of suggesting it was time to go. I patted her neck softly and then gently checked each of her hooves for embedded rocks while she patiently waited. Once finished, we resumed our trek toward my favorite place out of the twenty-four thousand plus acres I owned. We still needed to travel another few miles before we arrived at camp. Sahara’s excitement from before was tempered now by the heat, and her pace slowed to a steady walk, the sun bearing down on us both.

  Holding the reins lightly in my gloved hands, I thought about the day that I accepted the prosecution’s offer and decided to testify against Olin. After countless, grueling hours of questions, along with one detestable trip later to where we buried Gina, the conclusion was made that I was indeed telling the truth. My part in Gina’s death was relegated to failure to report it and hindering prosecution. While Stacy and the girls were thrilled that I wouldn’t be spending any time in jail and that my testimony would be the clincher on sending Olin away for life, I still struggled with my emotions. The fact that I possessed no recollection of what happened between the time Olin and Gina poured my drunk ass into my truck, to waking up naked in the backseat, haunted me. That was the stickler for me. Why was I naked if I, indeed, did not rape her? Who took my clothes off, and why? That question alone caused me great internal strife, for only two people truly knew the answer to that question, one of which was dead and the other—well, his word, either way, could not be relied upon. I needed to learn to come to terms with the fact that I never really would know if I had indeed defiled that sweet, young thing until the day I stood in front of my Maker.

  We plodded along in the miserable heat, Sahara’s hooves the only sound other than a stray bird. In the quietness, I remembered the look on Audra’s face that day in the conference room, staring at me with such disgust and hatred while I poured out the words for the first time in my life. I remembered how I almost choked on them as they spilled out. If someone had asked me prior to that day if I thought that Audra was capable of pulling off what she did, I would have laughed and told them no. Although Audra was one of the finest accountants in the state, her demeanor and personality never gave the slightest clue as to what was bubbling below the surface. Of course, I tried to stay as far away from her as possible. I knew the moment I walked into her office two days later and saw her swollen lips and blackened eyes what really happened to her after her meeting with Olin. I remember leaving her office and running to the bathroom to throw up, kicking myself for being such a pussy when it came to dealing with Olin. I let my fear of the sins he held over my head outweigh the anger I felt toward him, and for that, I would never forgive myself. If I could have instantaneously grown balls big enough to stand up to Olin that horrid night so long ago, none of this would have ever happened. He would have been in jail, never would have gone to work at Winscott and drug me right through the muck with him, and Audra would never have suffered the way she did. She would never have tossed the giant boulder into our lake that caused a ripple effect that destroyed numerous lives that day she shredded us all.

  Part of me understood completely why she chose the route she did, for all of us played a part in her rape just like she said; each of us knew what kind of sorry bastard Olin was yet never did anything to stop him…albeit, for different reasons. I must admit though, I did feel a bit of sympathy toward some of the other partners that were trying to pick up the pieces of their shattered lives after that day. The only one I kept in contact with was Carl, who actually turned out to be quite the staunch supporter through this whole mess. When he told me that Eric retired and left Nicole, I felt a twinge of pity for her. Even though I knew that their relationship was a sin and never really condoned it, I witnessed enough stolen looks between the two of them to see the depths of Nicole’s feelings shining through. I imagined she was devastated at not only his betrayal of her, but also his hasty departure.

  Sahara rounded the bend that led down to our favorite little spot, nestled in at the edge of a large, open expanse, overlooking a vista that was full of beautiful trees that gently swayed in the hot breeze. Her snorting brought me out of my reminiscence of the past briefly. She made her way over to the small circle of rocks that I set up weeks ago as a fire pit and stopped. I jumped off her wringing wet back and quickly removed the hot saddle and pack I had with me, then grabbed the large jug of water from it and poured its refreshing coolness down the length of her back, rubbing her down as I went. She stomped and snorted a few more times, like she was saying thank you, then wandered over to the nearest expanse of open ground. Immediately, she dropped down and rolled in the dust, making her dark bay coat turn a light chestnut. I laughed at her for a moment, then turned around and began assembling the small tent I brought with me. I was thoroughly enjoying the mindless task of preparing my little camp, bustling about quickly since it would be dark in a few hours, and I really needed to gather some wood for a fire.

  Twenty minutes later, the sweat was dripping down my face and back, so I removed my shirt, throwing it inside the now upright tent. I made my way across the dusty ground toward the trees, climbing quickly up the small trail forged by countless feet traipsing it prior to mine. Once I reached the top of the hill, I stopped to catch my breath and take in the view. The colors of the desert were like a salve to my heart.

  I found plenty of broken limbs and dead, smaller trees that I chunked over the edge toward my camp, smiling as Sahara decided it was some sort of game and ran around in circles each time I threw a piece of wood. Her dog-like antics had always cracked me up ever since she was a small foal, romping and playing with the numerous farm dogs rather than the other babies in the pasture.

  I peered over the edge and decided that enough wood was procured for at least a full night’s worth of a roaring fire and descended the hill, dust and debris shooting up from underneath my boots. It took me almost another twenty minutes to haul all of the wood back over to the pit, but soon, it was all there, and the fire was crackling loudly in the quiet, desert air. Dusk was just beginning to settle over the western horizon, and the magnificent colors in the sky were almost so perfect that they looked like a painting.

  God, what a beautiful place this was.

  I sat down and drank in the sunset, letting the emotions that no man wants to admit he possesses run free through my mind. This brief moment in time, this silence that I so desperately craved, this freedom in the open expanse of the land that was now in its fourth generation of Folton ownership was what I needed. This was a place where no one except the occupants in the Heaven’s above would see, so I wept and prayed to God. Although the words were screaming forth from my heart, they never crossed my lips. They were silently flung into the air toward the sky, begging the Almighty for strength to stand up to Olin on Monday. Pleading to make things right that had gone so horribly wrong years ago. Beseeching Him for forgiveness for whatever part I played in Gina’s death and for not stopping Olin from raping Audra. Tears of thanks for blessing me with the most wonderful wife and beautiful children ran down my sunburned cheeks at my unworthiness to be gifted with such love after all the terrible things I had been a part of.

  Physically and emotionally spent, I opened my wet eyes to the darkness that now surrounded me, the vibrant sunset long gone. Shocked that I spent so long in silent prayer, I realized that I needed to find Sahara and feed her, along with myself. I stood up and clucked for her, and her dainty whinny sounded softly from about fifty yards to my right, her hooves clacking on the rocks as she made her way over to me. I went into the tent and grabbed the bag full of oats out of the saddlebag and walked over to the small tree that I normally tied her to. I rattled the sack hoping it would speed up her slow gait. Her ears perked up, and she crossed the remaining twenty yards in a quick trot and almost knocked me over in her excitement to shove her nose in the oats. I grabbed the lead rope and secured it to the tree, and after she finished her dinner, I went back to the tent to stow the empty bag.

>   And that’s when I found the booze.

  I stood there and stared at the full bottle of bourbon that had obviously been in my saddlebag for quite some time, since I hadn’t touched a drop of the liquid in months. With the help of my loving wife, I decided that it was best for me to face all of the demons in my past with a clear head from now on, rather than a bourbon-soaked one. Surprisingly, putting the poison down didn’t cause me the pain I assumed it would. But now, in the stillness of the night, the bottle stared at me, its contents quietly whispering my name. They called out to me, like the voice of an old lover, begging me to wrap my lips around her cool, smooth rim and drink deeply from her depths.

  To my shame, I caved, running back to the arms of the Jezebel that had been my companion for longer than my own wife. I snatched the bottle up and made my way out to the blanket, plopping down in front of the raging fire, admiring the amber color that seductively moved inside the bottle. I closed my eyes and inhaled the familiar scent, held my breath, and took a huge gulp. The fire raced down my throat and hit my empty stomach like a hot ember, and it lurched in protest. Before I could change my mind, I took a few more pulls at her glass breast, relishing every moment of the burn.

  Setting the bottle down beside me, I stared into the fire, my head clouded and my vision swimming. The flames suddenly took on the shape of dancing demons, their fiery fingertips reaching out toward me in the dark. Oh God, I knew I needed to lie down and let this pass, so I half stood up, half crawled to the tent. I made it to the sleeping bag, sprawling out on top of it, too drunk to figure out the intricacies of the zipper.

  That was the last thing I remember before waking up to the most incredible pain I had felt in my life and hearing a voice from the past announcing my impending death.