Black Stump Ridge

by John Manning; Forrest Hedrick

  He reached inside his coat and felt the leather holster riding high inside beneath his shoulder. The heavy weight of the Colt .357 Magnum nestled within reassured him. When the time came he’d find a spot high up on the mountain and take care of business. Not today, though. Not on Thanksgiving. He wouldn’t ruin his friends’ holiday.

  The irony eluded him.

  He wondered what it would be like. Would he have the nerve to actually do it? Could he really put that cold steel barrel inside his mouth and pull the trigger? What about afterwards? He doubted he’d see a robed Old Testament figure standing with a book in one hand and a tall shepherd’s crook in the other waiting to pass judgment on him. But, what would be waiting? Would there be fire and brimstone? A Dantean scenario like the inside of a volcano? Or would he just cease to be? No scenes, no voices, and no people. Just nothingness. His mind shied away from that picture. He suspected it was merely his ego refusing to accept an end to its existence.

  He paused. Below him and to his left he could just make out the roof of the house through the morning mist and the dew dampened tree limbs. Farther out, the fog filled the valley wrapping all but the tallest trees in a white blanket. The ethereal beauty of the scene made his breath catch in his throat. Maybe he should do it first thing tomorrow morning. He would awaken before dawn, slip outside, and walk up the mountain. Let this be the last the last thing he saw. Not today, though. He could wait for tomorrow. That would be time enough to die.

  “Charlie!” He looked down. Fred stood on the back deck. His hands were curled in front of his face. “Hey, Charlie! Come and get it!”

  He looked around one last time. Yes, tomorrow would be soon enough. Decision made, he started back down the mountain to the house and the breakfast waiting inside.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “That was one fine breakfast, Johnny.” Dave rubbed his stomach, belched loudly, and slid his chair back from the table. “You’ve provided us with another of your fine culinary productions.”

  “I thank you kindly for the compliment, but flowery praises will not exempt you from scullery duties, my friend. I provided the repast with the able assistance of my sous chef, Peete. You and the rest are relegated to the kitchen sinks. Get thee hence! Clear the rubble, rabble!”

  “Amen to that.” Fred looked at the littered table. “And, there’s a lot of rubble to be cleared. What a mess!”

  “There’s still some food in that mess.” Johnny pushed his chair back from the table. “Someone’s gotta finish it. Starvin’ kids in Ethiopia and all that.”

  “Let’em come over and get it for themselves,” Charlie quipped. “Me, I couldn’t put away another bite. All I wanna do now is take a nap ‘til game time.”

  “It’s still pretty early. The game doesn’t come on for at least four hours. Why don’t we go out and look at the blinds?” Fred stood and stretched.

  “Good idea.” Dave spied a small piece of crisp bacon fat. He popped it into his mouth with a smile. “It’ll do us good to walk off some of this breakfast. The dishes can wait ‘til we get back.”

  “You keep eating like that and you’ll have to have someone roll you to the blinds. You’ll be too fat to walk.” Charlie took two steps. The air filled with a sound like ripping linen.

  “I’ll drink to that!” Peete tilted his cup, swallowed, and slammed it on the table like an empty shot glass. He stood up. “Let me go upstairs and drain the ol’ lizard.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Dave rose and followed Peete up the stairs.

  “Thank God there’s a bathroom on each floor.” Fred walked down a short hall just beyond the kitchen. Charlie headed for the stairs leading down to the garage and basement floor.

  Johnny watched as everyone scattered. Good thing there’s an extra half-bath on this floor, he thought as he headed in the opposite direction from Fred.

  Thirty minutes later they all stood around Fred as he tested keys in the lock in the ground floor door. As each key opened the lock, he removed it and passed it to one of the others. Once all were tested and distributed, he locked the door and turned to the others. All were dressed in down-filled jackets and bright, Day-Glo orange vests.

  Dave wore an old, battered, neon green ball cap. Illegible words were embroidered in yellow on the bent and stained brim. Peete wore a floppy bush hat. The left side was pinned to the crown by a blue and silver badge. He’d found it in the same Army surplus store where he’d found the hat. Fred and Johnny both wore bright orange ball caps. Charlie preferred a fur-lined hat with earflaps that hung down on either side of his head. The ends curled up. They made him look like his ears had wings.

  “One of the things that makes our trips so special is the freedom. We come and go as we please with no one deciding when we hunt and when we come in.” Fred looked at each one. “You each have a key to the house, now. If you decide to head out on your own, please let one of us know. That way someone will have an idea of how long you’re out there and will know to come looking for you if you’re gone too long.”

  “Thanks, Mother,” Charlie quipped, popping Fred lightly on the shoulder with his gloved fist. “And, we’ll be sure to look both ways before we cross the street and we won’t take candy from strangers.”

  “Unless the strangers are the Coors Light girls,” Dave interjected, “or the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders. In that case, we’ll not only take their candy, but any other sweets they might offer.”

  Everyone laughed. Fred shook his head. “I guess I deserve that. It’s just that during the last ten years or so, we’ve done our hunting in the Ozarks. We’re pretty familiar with the area and what we might find. These aren’t the Ozarks. Just because we’re “back East” doesn’t mean it isn’t dangerous. This forest, although similar to what we’re used to, is not the same. For one thing, the black bears have been on the increase. They’ve become bolder and less worried about humans. Sometimes they even come around people’s homes. That shouldn’t be an issue for us, though, because this is when they hibernate. However, they don’t take kindly to being woke up. In fact, although fairly docile most of the time, they can be down right cranky this time of year. Since we don’t have bear tags, let’s leave them alone.”

  Johnny shook his head. “What’s with the camp counselor routine? Why the speech?”

  “Yeah,” Dave added. “You’ve never gone all Sammy Safety on us before.”

  Fred looked at them and then chuckled. “I guess I did, didn’t I? Sorry. I don’t know. Part of it’s just that I’ve never been responsible for what happens on the trip like I am this time. And, I’ve had this funny feeling since we got here. Everything’s going really well. Well, maybe not everything. That old storekeeper kinda pissed me off.”

  “I know what you mean,” Peete agreed, and then held up his hand. “No, not about the storekeeper. That bothered me, but there’s ignorant people everywhere. No, it’s more like waitin’ for the other shoe to drop.”

  “Exactly. I feel like there’s something about to happen, but I can’t tell what it is.” Fred sighed. “This much I know — it won’t be any Coors Light twin or Cowboys Cheerleader.”

  “Well, it’s too late to call it off.” Dave looked at his watch. “I’d like to get back before kick off. Let’s finish with the old lady routine and get this show on the road.”

  Johnny slapped Dave on the back. “What’s your hurry? After all, me and Peete made breakfast. You and the others gotta do the dishes when we get back.”

  “All the more reason to git gittin’ and git back.” Dave replied. “Like my uncle used to say, time’s a-wastin’ an’ daylight’s burnin’!”

  •

  Johnny sat on the large leather sofa in front of the big screen TV. The pre-game show was in full swing. A retired coach pontificated to his co-hosts and the viewing audience why he felt that despite their abysmal season thus far the Kansas City Chiefs had a chance of defeating the Detroit Lions in the early game. The retired quarterback tried to argue over the explanation.

&nb
sp; “I don’t hear any water running or silverware clinkin’,” he called out over his shoulder. “Those dishes ain’t gonna wash themselves, so get your asses in gear. If you don’t hurry you’re gonna miss the kick off.”

  A door closed. A series of clicks followed by a low-pitched hum came from the kitchen as Charlie entered the living room. “All done. Unlike the cabin in the Ozarks, this place has all of the modern conveniences. We have indoor plumbing, satellite TV, hot and cold running water, and, oh, my lord, a dishwasher.” He sat in one of the overstuffed armchairs. “I could get used to this kind of roughing it.”

  “One thing hasn’t changed,” Fred said as he came into the room carrying a cup of coffee.

  Johnny looked up. “What’s that?”

  “Dave’s in there right now preparing his famous Sphincter Ripper Chili. Of course, the good thing is, we won’t have to deal with it until tomorrow.”

  “Cowards! Infidels!” Dave stuck his head into the living room. “Oh, ye of little faith! I know how much you all look forward to sharing my heavenly creation.”

  “I think the source is from a more southerly direction,” Johnny quipped.

  “Fear not! It shall be ready by this evening!” Dave ducked back into the kitchen.

  “That ought to make it easy to keep warm tonight!” Peete laughed.

  “I guess it’s a good thing everyone has his own room.” Charlie looked around. “No open flames in the bedrooms tonight, boys!”

  “Hey, Fred!” Dave shouted from the kitchen. “Who do you know drives a black SUV?”

  “What kind?” Fred stood and headed toward the kitchen. Charlie, his face pale, followed with his eyes. His body was rigid with tension.

  “Looks like a Toyota. One of those Land Rovers, I think. It’s got that funky white roof that doesn’t match anything else.”

  “Could be my mom.” Fred changed course and went to a window. He pushed the curtain aside. “Yeah, that’s her, all right. I wonder what she’s doing up here? I hope everything’s okay.”

  He grabbed his down jacket from the coat peg on the wall by the door and headed downstairs. Behind him, Charlie relaxed and turned his attention back to the TV.

  Fred reached the bottom of the steps and pressed a button on the wall. He walked towards the slowly rising door. When it was shoulder-high he ducked under and stepped outside. His mother’s truck was already parked. She stood at the back, the rear door open.

  “Happy Thanksgiving, Mom!” He hugged her, lifting her tiny frame off of the ground. She laughed as he set her down gently. He looked inside the SUV. Two foil-covered aluminum roasting pans were stacked next to several plastic-covered casserole dishes and four square boxes. “What brings you up here? It looks like you’re planning to feed an army.”

  “It’s been a long time since my eldest son has been anywhere near me on Thanksgiving, so I thought I’d bring you and your friends a little something to eat.”

  Fred looked up as another vehicle navigated the driveway toward the house. “Who’s that?”

  “That’s William and Anne,” his mother smiled. “They came down to spend Thanksgiving with me so we all decided to join you and your friends.”

  “Is Robert coming, too?”

  “No, not this year. His frigate’s in the Adriatic. He won’t be back ’til spring.”

  Robert, the youngest of the Kyle boys, was a Lieutenant Commander in the Navy.

  “That’s a shame.” Fred watched as the pearl-colored Lexus pulled to a stop. Both front doors opened. Anne, William’s wife of eight years, climbed out of the passenger side. She was tall, slightly over five foot ten, and slender. Her shoulder length ash blond hair framed her pale oval face. Hazel eyes and a thin nose accented her severe, narrow mouth.

  Fred had no great love for his sister-in-law, in part because she reminded him of his ex-wife. He felt certain the trip here was not Anne’s idea. She most likely agreed to come because she couldn’t talk William out of it without causing a scene. Causing a scene would not discourage her; she had no problem making others uncomfortable if it suited her wants or needs. She’d more likely weighed the pros and cons of a family argument on a holiday and decided there wasn’t enough gain for her this time. That meant William would pay for this trip later.

  “Hey, Bro, what’s happening?” Fred walked to the car as his brother climbed out and stretched.

  William, at six feet, was taller than Fred by about two inches. Fred’s potbelly, however, gave him an extra fifteen pounds on the middle brother. Although five years younger, William’s slightly stooped shoulders, his graying and receding hair, and the deepening lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth made him look ten years older.

  “Nothin’ shakin’ here, Bro.” The two hugged. “How about you?”

  “Same-o, same-o. I’m glad you guys decided to come up. Did you bring your rifle?”

  “Nah,” William shook his head and nodded meaningfully to his right. “You know how Anne feels about hunting.”

  “Oh, yeah.” He certainly did. She often and vehemently declared her concerns for the poor animals that fell victim to the senseless and unnecessary slaughter caused by barbaric human predators. When she thought no one was watching, however, she could ravage a steak or a turkey with a gusto that rivaled any big cat on a fresh kill. He glanced at his sister-in-law and her fur coat. Fred figured that the only thing faux about it was the avowed animal rights sentiments of the person inside.

  “And, how are you doing, Anne?” Fred smiled despite the frosty expression on her face. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

  “And, to you, Frederick.” Her eyes squinted and her lips pursed as though she’d bitten into something sour. She pulled her coat tightly about herself as if to shield her body from any lascivious glance he might cast over her. “It’s cold out here.”

  Especially since you arrived, he thought. “Well, why don’t you go inside while Bill and I help Mom get this bounty up to the kitchen. When you get up there would you send the guys down to lend a hand, too, please?”

  Twenty minutes later the SUV was unloaded and the kitchen island filled with covered pans and bowls. The four boxes turned out to contain pies — pumpkin, cherry, apple, and pecan. One covered roasting pan held a twenty-four pound turkey while a sugar-cured ham rested in a smaller one. A cornucopia of candied yams, mashed potatoes, jellied cranberry sauce, cornbread stuffing, oyster stuffing, fruit salad, a green bean casserole, devilled eggs, and sweet, yellow corn filled the remaining vessels.

  Johnny looked at the bounty. “Let me help you warm this up.”

  “What? A man working in the kitchen?” Fred’s mother turned to the oven and set the dial. “I’ve been doing this for more than fifty years, now, without any help. I think I can handle it. You just go back and watch your game.”

  “That man is great in the kitchen, Mom,” Fred countered. “You really ought to take him up on his offer.”

  “Yeah, right,” Anne sniffed. “The only thing a man’s good for in the kitchen is washing the dishes and taking out the trash. And then only with a woman’s constant supervision.”

  Fred glanced at William. He looked away and said nothing.

  “It’s Thanksgiving, Anne.” Fred’s mom gave Anne a sharp look and then turned to Johnny. “Well, young man…“

  “Johnny.”

  She nodded. “Johnny. Well, Johnny, if you want to pitch in, who am I to say no. You can put the turkey in that oven while I get the other oven ready for the ham.”

  “Sure thing, ma’m.”

  “Just call me Edith.”

  “Okay, Edith.”

  As Johnny went around the island to help, William and Anne followed Fred into the front room. The others were seated on the couch and easy chairs watching the game. Kansas City had just punted the ball. The Lions receiver caught it on the twenty-three, ran to the right, broke free, and was racing toward the end zone. Suddenly, the picture changed, replaced by a movie.

  “Hey!”

  “What happe
ned?”

  “What the hell?”

  Everyone turned. Anne stood behind the couch, the remote control in her right hand and pointed at the TV. “What? You didn’t think I came all the way out here to sit and watch some stupid football game, did you?”

  Fred reached over and plucked the remote from her hand. He changed the channel back to the game. The Lions were setting up for the point after attempt.

  “Anne, you may do whatever you please. You may read, help Mom, or you may go play with yourself in the bathroom for all I care. On this TV, however, there will be football. Not only this game, but the Dallas game, too.”

  Anne glared at him. Her nostrils flared. Her mouth opened and closed as she tried to come up with something biting to say. Fred thought of a landed fish trying to breathe air. She finally turned and stormed out of the room.

  Dave followed Anne’s exit with his eyes. He looked at Fred after she was gone. “I’ll bet she doesn’t hear that very often. Play with herself in the bathroom?”

  “It was all I could think of at the moment.” Fred turned to William. “Sorry, Bro. I guess I just ruined your lovin’ for awhile.”

  “Probably improved it,” Peete quipped.

  William shook his head. “That’s okay. I wasn’t getting any anyway.”

  Peete laughed. “I stand by my statement. I can’t help but think that sex with that…“ he hesitated, looked at William who merely shrugged, and then continued, “… that creature would freeze my pecker right off. I started to say bitch, but I don’t know you that well and I happen to like dogs. You might feel like you have to defend her honor or something, but I hope not. I just don’t feel like fighting today.”

  Two hours later Edith, Johnny, Fred, and William were in the kitchen. The remains from the Thanksgiving feast were wrapped and stored in the refrigerator. Stacks of dirty plates, flatware, and cookware littered the counter. William scraped the scraps from the dishes into a black plastic bag that lined a tall kitchen garbage can. He stacked the plates on the counter by the sink. Edith ran hot water in one of the double sinks. After she rinsed any remaining residue from the dishes or utensils, she handed them to Fred who placed them neatly into the dishwasher.