The Pride of Howard County

by Kevin Bachman

  Chapter 16

  The weeks went by; it was midsummer with the daytime temperatures topping out in the middle nineties. The early morning fog and dew would cause the humidity to be sky high. The cattle sought relief in the ponds scattered about the pastures during the heat of the day while the horses found shade under trees, swishing flies with their tails. Lucky and Muncie swam in the Piney and took long afternoon naps under Gus’s porch.

  John had begun going over to Gus’s for breakfast. It had been decided that John was the better cook so he had been delegated the cooking duties while Gus was the clean up man. After breakfast they’d drink another cup of coffee while listening to the farm report and weather forecast on the radio. The dog days of summer are a time when farmers fall into a methodical pace of slow but steady.

  The week had been productive as Gus had sold some calves and they had stored hay in one of the barns they would need for winter feed. It was a late afternoon on a Friday in August while having iced tea Gus made a suggestion. “Hey, ya wanna go to the Honkie Tonk?”

  “The Honkie Tonk?” John asked.

  Gus explained that was the actual name of a country western bar in town. The farm hand was curiously taken back as to this latest development as this wasn’t something Gus would normally do.

  He though about it for a few seconds and said with a smile, “Yeah, that might be kinda fun.”

  After supper and a quick nap for Gus he and John climbed into the truck and headed for town. Lucky ran along side for a while but calculated she wasn’t invited and retreated back to the house and Muncie. The older farmer had his fifty dollar Stetson on and had even slathered on some cologne.

  John didn’t really know what to wear to a country western bar in Fayette Missouri but finally decided he couldn’t go wrong with Levi’s, a Polo shirt and his now well broke in Redwing boots. He had been to a couple of cowboy bars in Chelsea but knew the Honky Tonk and Chelsea’s cowboy bars couldn’t be compared.

  John was excited he and Gus were going out on the town. As they drove along Gus realized he hadn’t been to the Honky Tonk in quite a few years. The talk was small, some farm talk, commodity prices, Ford vs. Chevy and the like.

  The parking lot of the Honky Tonk was pickup trucks as far as one could see. As they made their way to the door John thought to himself, everyone in Howard County must be at the Honkie Tonk tonight. They paid the five dollar cover and found a table. The band was tuning up their instruments and there was a buzz of excitement in the air. The waitress came by the table and Gus ordered a Budweiser while John ordered a cranberry juice and seven up. The band started out with an old Willy and Waylon tune and the dance floor filled up with two steppers. After his second beer Gus was up and roaming about the place. He’d run into a couple of farmers he’d known for years and motioned for John to come over and introduced him to his friends. John was pleasantly surprised the way Gus bragged to his friends how fast he’d caught on to farming while he stood there with his hand on John’s shoulder. John felt like he’d won an award.

  Gus now on his third Budweiser decided it was time to ‘cut a rug.’ John watched with amusement as the old guy sought out a gal to dance with. But his amusement was short lived when the old guy began motioning to him from the bar. He made his way over to Gus and the next thing he knew he was doing some form of the boot scootin’ boogie with a chunky gal by the name of Doris.

  And so it went on like this until about midnight until a couple of fights broke out and Gus and John decided it was time to get out of there. Gus threw John the keys as they approached the truck and joked a little about John being the designated driver. Gus suggested they stop at the convenience store for a cup of coffee.

  They were leaving the lights of the city behind when Gus asked John why he didn’t drink. This was always a tricky question for an alcoholic but John had been schooled the truth is always the best way to go. And so he casually as possible simply stated; “I’m an alcoholic.” And just as casually Gus said, “Tell me about it.”

  John had told his story many times in the safety of the AA rooms. But telling an outsider, someone who might not understand is always a little scary for an alcoholic. John was well aware that although there had been much progress in the field of alcoholism there still remained a stigma and misunderstanding with a lot of people when it comes to that subject.

  John began at the beginning, “Well…when I was a kid, you know, struggling to figure out who I was.” John’s pulse quickened as he felt anxiety and thought how stupid this was probably already sounding to Gus but he had begun and so he continued. “I found that drinking, and um…getting high was a lot easier than, um…dealing with the issues of my life.”

  This was harder than John had imagined it would be, Gus was an important person in his life and he didn’t want to compromise what little respect he might have with his boss and friend. After a small pause and a quick visual across the cab he continued. “And so, when I used booze to escape rather than grow up I quit growing emotionally and mentally.”

  The younger man was really hoping Gus was getting this and didn’t think he was some kind of idiot but he was way to far into it to stop now, his anxiety rose as the coffee began kicking in but he’d tell his story and let the pieces fall where they would.

  “When the consequences of my drinking began to pile up on me although I’d had some successes along the way I finally went to my first AA meeting.” John took another sip of his coffee as Gus did as well. There was no obvious look of discernment on the old farmers face but rather more a look of interest, as if he was thinking about something else as John told his story.

  “I discovered I had a fear of people, I feared judgment and criticism and had a general distrust of people,” he said.

  As they left the lights of the city and drove along the old blacktop highways of Howard County John finished his story by saying, “It was the program of AA that helped me to discover there are people in this world I can trust, even with my deepest darkest secrets.”

  And then finally there was that moment of silence everyone anticipates who shares such things, would Gus understand and accept all of this or would there be that feeling of aloneness and misunderstanding everyone dreads.

  The farmer spoke as he held up his coffee cup for a toast. “Well whatever you’re doing keep doing it” and they clicked their Styrofoam cups together. The black top had turned into gravel and they were getting close to home.

  John was most pleased with the response he had received. He felt an emotion he was not familiar with, he felt like the kid who had just done something to win the praise of someone important to him. That kid within him thought of his own father and how they had never had such a conversation like he and Gus had just had. With a glance across the cab of the truck he saw the silhouette of a fifty dollar Stetson as he felt a huge sense of relief and a rare sense of serenity.

  Saturdays were just another day of work on the farm although they usually knocked off around the dinner hour. John had started preparing big home cooked meals on Sunday afternoons. John could sense Gus’s excitement as he tried to help out but he was mostly in the way. Some things never change. After dinner they would stretch out in the den and watch a ball game or whatever was on the television. Both dogs would watch the whole affair from the porch peering in through the screen. They knew that sooner or later they would each get a plate of leftovers. If they were relatively clean and dry and begged enough a soft hearted farmer might let them in.

  John usually made a trip to Columbia to hit an AA meeting on Saturday night. He’d developed the habit of calling George on the way and they’d catch up with each other.

  John was thinking a lot about Gus’s daughter, Abigail. He wondered if somehow she could be found, or if she was even alive. If she were out there, she needed to know what a great guy her father was and that he didn’t blame her for what had happened to Luke. She needed to know her mother had died from cancer and her father really needed closure with their rel
ationship. He decided to take the risk of looking for Abby, although he was all too aware of the risk of such things. He knew he might not like what he’d find.

  John Goggled her but came up with nothing, all he had was her name and she seemed to have vanished. John spent hours checking with state hospitals, prisons, mental wards, and police records. John would become frustrated and give it a break for a few days but resume his search if only for an hour or so in the evening before going to bed. John checked public housing, charities, and court records. There were many Abigail Rogers’ he’d discovered but time after time his search dead ended with a confused impostor telling him she wasn’t the one he was looking for. John posted on missing person internet sites; occasionally he would get a lead but each time it had led nowhere. He had chatted online with others looking for missing family members and was told to be patient and persistent. Others shared with him their stories about how they searched for months or years before finding someone and then there were the sad stories with the tragic endings. Discovering someone had been the victim of crime, had committed suicide or overdosed. Some were in prison and then there were the many cases of Jane Does. But the most baffling of all were the cases when people seemed to have just disappeared from the face of the earth.