A Tour de Fate

by P R M Kinloch

  The hills behind him were now long out of sight, and had somehow become mountains to him. Better safe than sorry. Sorry was now. Sorry was if he even stopped. Must keep straight. Straight was not lost. Stopping was lost. When he stopped, the heat boiled him. He cooked. Never stop. Only stop at night. Blessed sleep – until the heat drove him on. Again. Relentless. And again. Day. Another day... Relentless...

  He became relentless. The merciless element of fire and glare engulfed him, threatened to extinguish his little identity in its endless oven. Stubbornness drove him on. A relentless, meaningless refusal to merge with the heat. It drove him on. He drove himself on, refusing to submit. Inevitably, he retreated into the only place available. Into himself. In his mind, it was a duel with the scorched grass hot wind glare light on and on. It was a trial to see which would last. Sun or move. A game it’s a game heat or journey one winner only one winner. Move or stop. One move one stop, no stop move on and on it made no difference no winner no choice just one both one and one... more one... more. One more...one more...

  His feet were swollen. He was still moving. Just. And still easterly. Just. Though by that time, his sense of direction was completely shot. Hunger had long been forgotten. Suffering massive sunburn and extraordinary dehydration, he was quite delirious when they found him.

  32 GUN FOR HIRE

  When he finally staggered into civilisation, it was at a place called Wilder-Ness. It was the biggest farm he could ever have imagined. He had actually entered its boundary some days before without even knowing it.

  He was so grateful to be revived that he offered his help in any way they could take it, and things simply grew from there. Starting with simple duties and sleeping in a dormitory with other roustabouts, he loved every minute of it. As his strength returned, he applied himself to whatever task he was given with great joy. Soon enough, his duties grew and with that came something of a wage. He learnt to do what was wanted. Then he learnt to anticipate the given instructions. Finally, he was predicting the aims of those instructions and eventually running his own department.

  Promotions followed. Responsibilities grew along with wages. He moved into a house. He became the well- respected leader of the large workforce on the farm. Essentially, he had no other life – or any expenses for that matter. With no real way to spend his wages, his money stayed with the owners. He had no ideas for anything but his job and was putting everything into it. The place thrived. Efficiency rose, losses were down, running costs were down.. Productivity was up and profits were up. The place seemed to be ticking over by itself in so many ways since young Stump had turned up. The owners couldn’t believe their luck. They told him to consider the house he was using as his own.

  With nothing to spend and nothing to do other than the job, eventually he felt the need to do something else. For instance, there were inconveniences in the house that were exasperating him. He experimented with home improvements. Learning as he went along, he had some successes. He found the satisfaction gained from accomplishing things was greater than merely adding conveniences to the house. The different activity took him out of a rut that he had fallen into.

  He gave himself regular free time for his hobby. Soon he was seriously improving the house. It became a second passion along with the job. Eventually the house was finished, hardly recognisable from what it had been. It was finished because he had no idea what else he could do to it. He felt his father would have been proud of it.

  His managerial job was still there and still essential. But by then he had trained others to operate more or less without him. Finding himself out of ideas both at work and in his free time, he became bored. Soon after that he decided it was time to move on. Nearly four years had gone by.

  He put in his notice. His employers wouldn’t take it. He held his ground. They upped his wages. He dug his heels in. They argued. He refrained. They suggested. He remained silent. They insisted the house was his. He asked for his entire wage. They gave it. He checked it. He thanked them, they thanked him. He questioned about the house. They confirmed it was his. He confirmed he was going.

  Then they stunned him by wanting to buy the house back. But there was method in their madness. They didn’t give him top price, but it meant a massive bonus to him. One of his understudies had been selected to take his job. An Alsatian named Bongo Durham. He was to get the house, but would have to rent it, at least until he proved himself as good as Monty. A daunting task for Durham, while Montague Stump now had a fortune to carry away. He had to wear his dad’s waistcoat to make room.

  They helped him pack. Everyone turned out to see him off, like family. They were genuinely sad. They all said he should be very proud of his achievements. Like family. He felt very proud, very happy. But there was a lump in his throat. Unexpected. No words. Must go. They said they’d watch until he was out of sight. He refused to budge until they went indoors. They went. He went. He didn’t look back. Lump hurt a lot.

  It would be a while before he found out how extraordinary and unlikely this part of his story was. He had gained substantial trades as a carpenter and as a builder, but all that paled into insignificance when put alongside the profession he had occupied so successfully and for so long

  Foxes were never supposed to hold such a job without screwing up, getting caught, and ending up in jail for heinous crimes, but maybe that’s why it had worked. He’d become a shepherd. Among other tricks, he had simply taught his teams to kill the killers instead of the sheep.

  He had no desire to go back to High Aytus but on his way back, he had time to think what his father would say of his achievements. Would he share in his sense of pride? He had no idea. He had no idea because he could remember no occasion when his father had actually said anything appreciative of him. Obviously there had to be times when his father would have been kind, but Monty’s pain was that he had no memory of anything like that.

  The fact that he really couldn’t remember actually doing anything to deserve something like praise didn’t exactly help. But on balance, his thought was that his father would most likely say what a pity it was that he hadn’t gone into business with him, or followed his example and gone into a respectable profession. In other words, that he could have done better. Should have done. Whatever. All of which was very depressing.

  On the other hand, his mother? Well, she would support him. She supported everyone. That also seemed depressing.

  What was the matter with him! He had just finished an extraordinary period in his life, was coming away with heaps, had learnt even bigger heaps, and had every right to be as pleased with himself as a young puppy learning to cock his leg for the first time without falling over. And he was worried about what his father would say?

  33 MOLLIFICATION

  After four years Monty was finally on his way back. Although quite heavily loaded, he knew what was ahead and could ration himself sensibly in terms of time, energy, food, water and rest.

  Many days later, having remembered his navigation tricks from before, he came out of Worrywart Woods reasonably close to Little Willy. He cut sideways to look for the track he had taken on the way out from the village.

  Coming across a tiny stream he refilled his water supply. There was a cottage nearby, so he went to explore. The door was open. He saw an elderly hare lying on the floor. She had a rather obvious broken leg, looked decidedly uncomfortable, but appeared to be asleep.

  He woke her gently. She was very weak and desperately thirsty. He got her water. She drank some then went to sleep again. He put his packs down and sat. After a time, he too dozed off.

  When he woke up next, it was nearly dark. She was awake and watching him. He gave her more water and a little of his food. She slept again, and he reckoned that she would most likely sleep until morning.

  He made his own bed at the door. It effectively made her his prisoner but she didn’t look ready to go anywhere, and he could at least keep her safe.

  In the morning, he made breakfast for both of them a
nd fashioned a crutch for her. Realising she still couldn’t use it, he set about fashioning splints and bandaging. The result was not perfect, but he hoped it would be at least sufficient for her to do some things for herself again.

  Her name was Molly Coddel. She had been out looking for her husband Wally who had simply not come home from a normal day’s work foraging, “Oh, like two weeks ago now, must be.” Any family had long gone so there was nobody to help. Eventually fearing the worst, she had gone looking for him.

  “O’course managed to fall down a cliff and break a leg, hadn’t I – just the very kind of thing he would have protected me from o’ course, and the very thing I’d a-feared was happened to him, wasn’ it? More’s the pity it no doubt had. And now I’ll never know, which is all a mixed blessing as it might be best not to know so long as he hadn’t suffered and my dread that ’e has ’cause he was so good to me all these years. And not knowin’...”

  Stump couldn’t work out where this had happened, but he learnt she had lain where she fell and become resigned to the fact that the worst had happened to him, and there was no hope of expecting him back.

  She had then spent days clawing her way from wherever it was.

  “Wantin’ nothin’ more than just to be with ’im, next to ’im I had to get here, back here - in our ’ome, is all I got now - just here among memories of ’im is all I got! Just till it’s over. Just me an’ ’im an’ nothin’ more now an’ just... I want to be with ’im now. Let me be with ’im...?” She implored.

  He hushed her and insisted she rest more. He knew she would need time to come to terms with her new reality, but would need help and company until her leg was healed. Although his presence might not be the best, it would be better than none until she was on her feet again.

  Having tidied up as best he could around her and seen to her immediate needs, he told her he would be back later in the day. Not waiting for a reply, he took his pack and set off down to Little Willy.

  Closer than he hoped, the one and only shop was a general store, post office and bank. Waiting until the only other customer had gone, he opened a savings account and deposited all his money.

  The manager Mr Dole appeared at first sight to be a rather cold fish. He was a very tall Airedale terrier named Owen “Lofty” Dole who had never seen so much wealth and would most likely never do so again. Stump agreed and said it was the reason he had waited until they were alone. The manager thanked him for that.

  Stump then put a proposition forward. For a regular fee, would the manager undertake certain duties in addition to looking after his money. Before agreeing to anything, Mr Dole wanted to hear the worst.

  “Like nothing illegal, I hope.”

  Dole was dismayed at hearing what had happened to Molly Coddel. Everybody in Little Willy knew her and Wally.

  Stump asked, “Could we set up an arrangement for Molly to be supplied with her essential needs?”

  “One way or another that could be done, no doubt about that.” Dole offered somewhat guardedly.

  “I’ll stay with her until she can get about, but I think she’ll need someone just to keep an eye on her, and ideally give her a bit of company, that sort of thing.” Stump continued.

  “’Course, deliveries would be after hours.”

  “No problem.”

  “‘Course, in all weathers, you know...”

  “Is worth more. I agree. Let’s set a financial arrangement high enough to make quite sure you are comfortable to -”

  “Right then, and I’m sure the wife will be happy to um...”

  “OK, let’s say at a rate where the two of you are comfortable to look after Molly Coddel like family? I’ll give you access to my account and you can bill me and deduct it from my account as you go?

  “A pleasure doing business with you, Mr Stomp.”

  “I’ll be in and out while I’m here, no doubt. Meanwhile, let’s agree on the basic sum to be deducted from my account per week for the both of you starting now. And then, don’t forget to add for the groceries and whatever as you go.”

  “A pleasure doing business with you, Mr Stomp.”

  “Stump. Not Stomp. And yes, you said that already.”

  “Oh. Yes.” The manager laughed awkwardly. “Sorry and all, then.”

  Thereupon, the two got down to the nitty gritty of “how much”. However, having not recovered from the shock of seeing so much wealth and the persistent agreement from Stump to whatever he said, the manager was still trying to think of more things he could add to the basket of services to be given. When Stump named such a generous sum per month, it stopped him in his tracks.

  “A pleasure doing – um yes. Er, yes. That will do very nicely, won’t it, I’m sure.” was the best he could answer.

  “That’s a wonderful load off my mind,” said Stump, “Now what I need is to take the first delivery with me.”

  “Call me Lofty, Mr Stump, everybody does. Feel free to just take whatever you want.” Said the Manager as if to include the whole store.

  “Thank you, Lofty, but no. Remember, your shop, I pay.” With room now in his pack, Stump picked out supplies.

  “Please ask your wife to come whenever she is free tomorrow to meet Molly,” he suggested, “or if she can come with you in the evening with your first delivery, then we can all have supper together, perhaps? See how you go.”

  Mr Dole was waiting to hold the door open for him. Stump motioned him back to the counter. “Lofty, you’re running a shop, my friend. How much is this lot for my account, then?” Said Stump with his bag still open.

  “Oh, one further thought.” He added as Lofty did his sums, “Anything Molly wants at any time, can you just add it to the tab?”

  “My pleasure Mr Stump. We’ll look forward to visiting tomorrow, then.”

  Molly being slow to heal at her age, Montague stayed for two weeks. He was happy to do so until Molly was getting about without any aids and there was nothing more he could do. Also, and equally importantly, he sensed she definitely wanted him gone. By that time her resistance to his charity was turning to acceptance of her situation and his arrangements. That was the best he could hope for.

  34 THE WINDS OF CHANGE

  Almost five turns of the seasons had now passed since Montague Stump had left home. Most of that time was spent in a way that even his wildest dreams could not have predicted. He had travelled from the far north to the far south and halfway back, learning valuable survival skills in the process, before veering off into the unknown in a reckless venture that should have killed him. Miraculously surviving that, he had paid his debt to his rescuers many times over. After four years with them, he had become a respected member of their society, risen to the top of a profession and been handsomely rewarded.

  Those years had seen him grow from a gangling youth too full of himself for words to something of a master of several crafts. His desire to move on had also undergone a transformation. Pushing him away from the routines of his duties at Wilder-Ness, it had brought him back to the original pathway of his journey. All he had to do was take to the road again. Simply pick up where he had left off. No? Wasn’t that why he had come back?

  Faced with the prospect of the endless road stretching away in front of him day after day, he felt he needed to think about that first. He left the roadway and headed up to the hills. Selecting the best view available, he sat down to try and sort out exactly what he wanted to do.

  Why had he come back? Why had he walked out of the most extraordinary good job, was at the peak of anybody’s idea of his profession? Alright, not his exactly, but he was certainly a qualified expert. He had security and respectability enough for the rest of his life! And he’d given it all up. Chucked it in! What sort of behaviour was that? Hadn’t he done that before? Was that all he amounted to? A drifter who couldn’t hack the status quo? This constant running away! Was this all he was achieving? For that matter, now that he’d been more or less everywhere, where exactly was he going to go?

&nb
sp; He felt tired. Not physically tired, tired of something else. Tired of... being driven? Was that it? He studied the scenery. Was he trying to run away from something? or towards something... discover? become something? Weighed down by such unresolved issues the view got fuzzier until he dozed in the sun.

  When he woke up, he realized he should move. Plans or no plans, destination or not, the usual rules of the road applied. He put on his backpack and trotted off down to the road again. He felt odd from his unusual sleep, but lighter. Something in him had shifted, whatever it was.

  Since returning from Wilder-Ness, he had not bothered so much to keep out of sight. But where was he going? Coming out of Worrywart Woods, he had naturally fixed on going south again. From the start of his trek he had dismissed the far north, and he wasn’t going to head back to Diddling, so south it was.

  Finding Molly Coddle had been fortuitous in a way. His decision to establish the fund for her had forced him to park his wealth straight away. This left him at once free to wander. That wasn’t new. Yet curiously, there was a new feeling. As if something had been resolved. But what?

  The sense of failure, of running away was still there. He decided it probably would always be there. Maybe it was something everybody could evoke in one form or another. But now that it had at least retired from centre stage, he remembered he really could say he had achieved something in his life. Is that what I should have achieved? Ah! Is that the problem? This feeling of being pursued by what I should have done. Is that going to be there no matter what I do? What should I have done? What should I have achieved?

  He had no one to say who or what he should be. He was his own master. Maybe back then he wasn’t, but he was now!