Two Sides of the Same Coin

by Jake Mactire

  “Do ya ever miss your family?”

  “Not my old man at all. Sometimes I think about my mom, but I don’t rightly know if I miss her. She never did nothin’ to try and stop my old man. My sister and brother, yeah, I do miss. They both tried to stand up to him when he sent me away.”

  “Ya ever think of lookin’ for your sister and brother?”

  “From time to time. I wonder now though, what would I say to them, and what would they say to me. Don’t know that we’d have much in common.”

  “You said your parents were Cajun?”

  “Yep, fresh outta the bayous; when the old man got the ‘call to preach’ it led him to Nebraska. I reckon, too, they weren’t too popular; my mom said a few times that they caught hell from everyone when they left the Catholic Church. We’d speak French at home, I can’t rightly speak it now, but I understand most stuff. Tell ya what, Jeffy. How about I make you some gumbo sometime? I make really good gumbo.”

  “I like that idea, buddy.”

  He chuckled then.

  “Okay, what’s up?”

  “I was just thinkin’. Remember how I told ya I’d never been naked outside the bathroom before leavin’ home?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I think every night we been together we’ve slept bare-assed. It was kind of a shock to me that most guys sleep in their underwear and not in pajamas, and now we spend about eight hours outta every twenty-four buck naked.”

  “It just seems right with you. You don’t mind, do ya?”

  “Not one bit. I like it.”

  “What would ya do if ya ran into your father?”

  “That one I don’t know either. Believe me, I thought about it enough. Part of me would like to kick the shit outta him. Another part of me would just want to walk away. A third part wonders if he regretted what he did.”

  “And if he did?”

  “That’s a tough one. I don’t know if I’d throw it in his face how it was his choice, or if I’d listen to why he regretted it, or if I’d just tell him ‘Fuck you asshole’ and walk away. It’d be even tougher if he apologized. You know, Jeff, your dad asked me the same question.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, he said it’s really easy to hate and carry all that anger around, and it eventually becomes poison. He said the hardest thing to do is forgive. He went on and told me forgivin’ someone don’t necessarily mean you get close to ’em, but you stop holdin’ on to the anger and hate and just feel bad for them that they did what they did.”

  “That sounds like Dad. What do you think?”

  “I know since I been with you, I don’t think of my old man all that often. When we’re together, it’s hard for me to hold on to that anger and hate against him. I reckon that’s a good thing.” Just then I heard a loud thump from downstairs like someone fell. We both sat up. Listening a bit more, I thought I could hear muffled footsteps on the hardwood floors below.

  “C’mon, Mike, let’s see what’s up. Guns in the gun case in the hall are loaded, but the cabinet’s locked. I gotta unlock it,” I whispered. Mike nodded to show he understood. As I crept out into the hall, I heard him softly call me, but I kept going. I had my keys from the dresser and unlocked the gun cabinet. The hall up here was carpeted and so were the stairs, so I could be really quiet. I got a rifle, took off the lock, and slowly went down the stairs. After a few minutes, I heard Mike behind me. Just as I got down to the bottom of the stairs, I saw a large form in the shadows heading for the back door carrying something.

  “Drop it and put your hands up! I got a gun, and I’d just as soon shoot as talk.” I yelled this out loudly and clearly. The figure didn’t stop though, but kept lumberin’ forward. Whoever it was, he seemed so fat he lumbered rather than ran. I was halfway across the living room when I heard the back door slam. I ran through the kitchen and mudroom and looked out the door. Whoever it was, was moving toward a motorcycle. Porky! He didn’t look to have a gun, so I ran out onto the porch and yelled at him to stop. He didn’t. I hesitated shooting him in the back, but then got an idea. I raised my rifle, sighted on my target, and squeezed the trigger. I hit the gas tank of Porky’s bike. It exploded in a ball of flame close enough to him to singe his greasy beard.

  “You mother fucking asshole, that was my bike! I’m gonna kill you!” He turned and took a step toward me. I calmly raised the rifle and put a shot in the ground about six inches in front of him. It was close enough to blow dirt up into his face.

  “You’re dead, Connelly. You don’t know who or what you’re messin’ with. Bossman’s gonna slit your throat. He don’t like cocksucking faggots. You just won’t leave it alone, so you’re gonna die. And so’s that little blond fuck buddy you got. I’m gonna spit on your dead carcass you fucking queer.”

  I half turned to Mike and yelled, “Get some rope, buddy, let’s hog tie this pig.”

  Just then I felt somethin’ whiz by me, almost like a bee. It went right where my head had been. Right then I heard the gunshot and saw the wood in one of the columns on the porch splinter. I dove over behind Mike’s truck. From under the truck, I could see that Porky was running down the driveway as fast as his fat legs could take him.

  “I’m comin’, boss, I’m comin’. He’d had my laptop and the Blu-ray player, but dropped them when I shot his bike. All of a sudden he seemed to stop, stagger a bit back. The back of his head exploded, and another shot rang out. I tried to get a look over the hood of Mike’s truck, and another shot whizzed by. Mike was in the house out of danger.

  I heard him yell out, “Sheriff’s on his way! Hang tight, Jeff!” Another couple shots flew by, then just silence for a bit. I stuck my head up, and no more shots. I crouched behind the truck until I could hear sirens off in the distance. The adrenaline was wearing off, and I began to shiver. I realized I was buck naked, and it’d been about fifteen minutes that I’d been crouching behind the truck. It was windy and drizzling. Mike peeked out the door and began coming toward me. He had on his sweats and a pair of boots. It was cold out, only about thirty-five, and I could see my hands and feet were almost blue. I started toward Mike, and when I took a step, I realized from the pain that my feet were all cut to hell. Mike came out with a pair of sweatpants, a jacket, and some boots for me. I pulled on the sweatpants and jacket, but the boots were a lot harder to get on. I was shaking so bad that I couldn’t manage. Mike knelt down in front of me and helped me. I leaned back on his truck and pulled my foot up and Mike slipped on my boot, then the other one.

  By then the sheriff had pulled into the driveway, followed by two deputies in cars. Mike was holding on to me like he was drowning and I was a life preserver. He felt warm. He’d been in the house when I’d been stuck outside behind the truck. He was beginning to shiver, too, but nowhere near as much as me.

  “Boys, either of you hurt?” Mike answered no, and I shook my head.

  “Wanna step in the house? I’ll be in there in just a minute.” He looked at me holding my rifle. “You’re the one who shot him, Jeff?”

  My teeth were chattering so bad I could barely talk. “N… no… s-s-sir. Sho… ot came from b-b-back th… there.” I tried to point, but was so shaky I couldn’t.

  “Mike, get him inside, and get him covered up and somethin’ hot to drink. Jeff, you’re either in shock, got hypothermia, or both. Get inside before I got another body on my hands.” Mike half carried, half dragged me into the house and put me down on the living room couch. He pulled my boots off and put a blanket around my shoulders. He went into the bathroom and got a couple of towels and wrapped them around my feet.

  “You just wait there, Jeffy, I’ll get some coffee for ya. I’ll be back in just a minute, okay?” He looked real worried. I nodded. My teeth were still chattering too much to talk. He took a little longer than a minute, but came back with a big mug of steaming hot coffee and two hot water bottles. He situated me so I was leaning back, and put one hot water bottle on my chest and one behind my back. He held up the coffee and let me drink. He
’d put a good amount of whiskey in the coffee. He jumped up and into the spare room downstairs and returned with a couple more blankets. Then he got under the blankets with me and put his arms around me. Slowly the shivering abated. He was whispering in my ear.

  “I got ya, Jeffy. Don’t worry, we’ll get you nice and warm. Now that I found ya, I ain’t gonna let anything happen to ya. You understand that? I gotta keep you safe, so you can push my wheelchair with your walker when we’re both little old men.” He was rubbing my arms, and I could feel life and his warm caring energy flow through my body. We heard the back door open and close. He scooted off me and made sure the blankets were around me before putting one over his shoulders. Sheriff Johnston walked in and sat down on the lazy boy chair half facing us. I took another big swig of the coffee.

  “Mike, why don’t you go out and talk with Deputy Snyder. He’ll take your statement. Jeff, I’m gonna talk with you here.” Mike walked off after asking if there was anything I needed. I saw him take a jacket off the hook by the mudroom and walk into the kitchen to talk with Deputy Snyder.

  “Did you shoot the biker, Jeff?” The sheriff had turned on a small recorder.

  “No, sir.”

  “Okay then, what happened?”

  “We were upstairs. Mike and I had already gone to bed. We weren’t asleep, just talkin’. We heard a thump downstairs, and the wood floors creaked a bit. We were both pretty sure someone was in the house. I told Mike the guns in the gun cabinet were loaded, but locked. I unlocked the gun cabinet, grabbed my rifle, and ran downstairs. I saw Porky run out. He had somethin’ under his arm, but I couldn’t tell ya what it was. I chased after him, and he didn’t stop. I reckon he didn’t think I’d shoot. He got outside and was runnin’ for his bike. I shot at it and hit the gas tank. It exploded. Porky started yellin’ at me I was dead and the boss man was gonna kill me. He yelled I couldn’t keep outta it. Then someone shot at me. Almost hit me. If I hadn’t turned halfway to see where Mike was, my head would be in the same shape as Porky’s. I dove behind Mike’s truck, and Porky started runnin’ down the driveway yellin’, ‘I’m comin’ boss’. Then his head just exploded. Whoever was doin’ the shootin’ shot a few more times, then nothin’. That was when we heard the sirens.”

  “Where were Wayne, Josh, and José through all this?

  “We just finished roundup a couple of days ago. José is off with friends in Wenatchee; Josh has been dating a lady from Seattle, so he’s there. Wayne, I’m not sure about. We think he’s got a lady friend somewheres.”

  “Okay, how long were you out there, son?”

  “Maybe fifteen or twenty minutes.”

  “You were out there in only a pair of sweats in thirty-five degree drizzle?”

  “Actually, Sheriff, Mike brought out the sweats. I didn’t take the time to get dressed.”

  “You’re damn lucky we aren’t takin’ you to the hospital with hypothermia.”

  “I realize that now, sir.” He made me repeat my story twice more. Mike and the deputy came in, and the sheriff and deputy went to look outside. In the meantime, an ambulance had pulled up.

  “How ya doin’, Jeff? Are ya feelin’ any better?”

  “Yeah, I am. Thanks, buddy, I really appreciate all you do for me.”

  “I was kinda surprised you ran out there bare assed, but I reckon even if you had sweatpants or jeans on, you would have been just as cold.”

  “Uh-huh, I still feel a little shaky and queasy, probably the aftereffect of all that adrenaline.”

  “Jeff, what do ya figure Porky wanted? If he was comin’ here to steal, maybe that’s why he picked up the electronics. But that’s awful risky. You kicked the shit outta him twice. He musta known we were home.”

  “He also said I couldn’t keep outta it, and the boss was gonna kill me. And then he got shot. I reckon whoever was watchin’ either got tired of him fuckin’ up, or thought he couldn’t get away, so they killed him to keep him from identifyin’ anyone.”

  “What do ya mean by his ‘fuckin’ up’?”

  “Think of it, Mike, every thing he’s tried to do he’s failed. I kicked the shit outta him twice. So he failed at intimadatin’ me. He tried to mess up our operation, but he let the cattle out to pasture a bit early—it actually helped us—if he was tryin’ to hurt us, that was a big fuck-up. I still reckon, by trashin’ my truck, he was tryin’ to kill us. Here we are, so he failed at that too.”

  “Makes sense; now we do know there are others involved with him.”

  “Yeah, but, Mike, think about it. He didn’t say anythin’ that would tie him to the cattle rustlin’. We still don’t know if he’s involved. Unless….”

  “Unless what, Jeffy?”

  “What if the bullet that killed old Porky is from the same gun as the one that killed Pedro? There’s the tie-in right there. We gotta mention that to the sheriff.”

  “He and the deputy are goin’ over the area with a fine-tooth comb. They got their cars parked to shine light on the area and have their baggies and tweezers.”

  “Let’s keep our fingers crossed that they find somethin’ that’ll help find whoever’s behind all this. It didn’t exactly give me warm fuzzies hearin’ that the ‘boss man’ wants me dead. If it ties in with the rustlin’, it’s gotta be somebody local.”

  “Remember, Jeffy, your little blond fuck buddy is on the list too.”

  “We just gotta stick together. I reckon as a team, we’re pretty hard to beat. Hell, there’s no one more than you, Mike, I’d want watchin’ my back.”

  “Same here, Jeffy. You’re still pretty shook up, ain’t ya?”

  “Yeah, it’s not every day I get shot at, and it’s happenin’ too much lately. If I wouldn’t have turned to look at you, it would be my body they were baggin’ up instead of Porky’s. Just then the back door opened and closed. We could hear footsteps coming through the mudroom. It was Sheriff Johnston. He sat down in the chair half facing us.

  “Coffee or somethin’, Sheriff?” Mike was the one to ask.

  “Thanks, no. You boys holdin’ up okay?”

  “Just tired and shook up, Sheriff; I’m a little worse off than Mike.”

  “Son, that was a damn foolhardy thing you did, running outside naked as a jaybird in thirty-five degree drizzle to chase down Porky. I know you had your rifle, but didn’t you think he might not be alone?”

  “No, sir. I reckon I didn’t.”

  He sighed. “Jeff, you remember me telling you since your father isn’t here anymore I was gonna jump in that spot if needs be?”

  “Yes, sir.” I was beginning to wish I could sink into the floor. The reminding me of our long relationship and my dad was not a good sign. I knew Sheriff Johnston well enough to know that all those sighs were his way of counting to ten to avoid saying something he couldn’t take back.

  “Son, you need to think. You could have gotten killed there, if not by a gunshot, by freezing to death. In the conditions we have outside now, windy, thirty-five degrees and drizzle, it would only take about fifteen or twenty minutes for hypothermia to get serious. You were shaking so much you couldn’t talk, and that was after you got clothes on and something hot to drink. Or you could have put yourself on a suspect list in Porky’s death. You’re not a lone wolf anymore. You got someone here who really cares about you. If you can’t think about preserving your own hide for yourself, maybe think about him.” He looked at Mike.

  “If you care about this young man as much as you seem to, then you need to think. You know Sandy thinks you’re the greatest thing since sliced bread. She sees you like a combination brother and best friend. If you got hurt, it would kill her. Jeff, I even look at you like another one of my kids. You’ve been around me and my family since you were just a little guy. If you don’t think of yourself, think of all of us who love you.”

  Now I really wanted to sink into the ground. I felt pretty low and stupid. I didn’t doubt for a second that he, Sandy, and Mike really cared about me. It would be a tragedy i
f Mike and I didn’t see where this might lead. I hung my head pretty low and managed to mumble out, “I’m sorry, sir. Like you said, I just didn’t think. I know it’s not an excuse, but it’s the only explanation I have.”

  “Try and remember next time, okay.” He clapped me on the shoulder and finally smiled.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Are we suspects in Porky gettin’ shot?” Mike asked the question I was too shamefaced to ask.

  “No, son, you’re not, neither one of you. The bullet going into the porch support shows it was fired from down toward the road. It’s the same with the one that killed Porky. They look to be a different caliber than your rifle, Jeff.”

  “Are you gonna do ballistics tests on ’em, Sheriff?”

  He looked at me. “What you thinkin’, Jeff?”

  “I just wonder if the gun that fired the shot that killed Porky and the ones at me was the same one used to kill Pedro.”

  “We’ll see about that. We’ll also see if it was the same gun that shot Wayne and shot at you, Mike.”

  “How long will the tests take?”

  “We gotta send the evidence out to Seattle. With all the backups and red tape, it’ll take a while. Maybe since there have been two murders, they might move their asses a bit. I’d guess it should take about two weeks. One other thing, I know you don’t lock the door, Jeff, but you boys may consider doing that from now on. That biker was able to walk right in. If he wasn’t such a screwup, he might have got clean away with your Blu-ray player and computer and anything else he could have grabbed.”

  “Do you even know what his real name was?” Mike asked.

  “It was Mortimer. Mortimer Andrews. He has a record about a mile long. Mostly assault, drunk and disorderly, theft, some drugs, he was never big time. I reckon nobody’s got to worry about him any more.”

  “What a waste of a life.” Mike had a real sad look on his face. This was somethin’ new I was just noticing about Mike. The guy was out to get us, died trying, and Mike was such a decent guy he felt compassion for him. I thanked my lucky stars again he was with me.