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This week we present another story by Christopher A. Helton entitled “One String at a Time”, a sequel to his other story “No Strings Attached”.

Chris grew up in Bryan, TX and now resides in Houston, coaches high school soccer, and teaches social studies. He attended Texas A&M university and is married with a 4 year old son. He has been writing since the age of 11 and has written 2 feature length screenplays, 1 novel, and numerous short stories.

Now, sit down and welcome back an old “friend”.

One String at a Time

by Christopher A. Helton

I awoke from a deep sleep, which was rare for me these days. It took a few seconds to remember where I was. Quick glances around the room reminded me of soon enough of the hotel room I had been calling home for the last month. The curtains were closed, but the early morning sun found it’s way into the room.

As I slowly sat up in the bed, Isabella stirred in her sleep. I stared at her for a few quiet moments, finding comfort in her breathing. She was sleeping face down, her long dark hair covering much of her bare back. A pretty girl in her 20s, not beautiful, but pretty enough. Not that I was that picky these days.

I shook my head and rubbed the stubble on my face. Trying not to wake up Isabella, I slid off the bed and made my way to the bathroom and flicked on the light.

The cold water I splashed on my face did the trick of waking me up and then I just stared at my reflection in the dirty mirror. What the hell are you doing, JD? It’s not supposed to be like this. You’re breaking your own rules. You have to get back on track.

I dried my face and walked back to the bedroom. Clothes were scattered on the floor. An empty tequila bottle was on the bed stand next to an ashtray filled with cigarette butts. I found my blue jeans next to the bed and as I put them on I gave my white t-shirt a quick smell. Clean enough.

Isabella stirred again; this time I thought she would wake up for sure. I froze, not really in the mood for conversation or even small talk. Satisfied that she was still asleep I left the usual amount of money on the nightstand and quietly walked out of the hotel room.

Not that I needed to leave money for her, she made that clear to me after our third night together. I did it partially out of habit, partially out of feeling I owed it to her, and partially because leaving the money meant our relationship was still in the well defined hooker-client threshold; nothing beyond that. That kept things simple; just the way they needed to be.

But maybe things weren’t as simple as I thought they were. With all the whores I’d ever been with, I’d never been a repeat customer. I didn’t know their names, they didn’t know mine. Just a mutual business transaction. With all my time on the road, that suited me just fine. They served a societal purpose, despite always living on the outside of mainstream society. It had been that way for what, thousands of years now? Not that I was an expert.

With Isabella, things were different. Or was it I who was different? I didn’t seek her out, she came to me and before I knew it, she spent every night with me for the last three weeks. We didn’t talk about it, I think she knew better than to bring it up, but there was definitely something between us now. It troubled me because those weren’t my intentions and I need didn’t want any complications in my life right now.

***

The small, dusty, west Texas town in the middle of nowhere was centered around the town square that included the courthouse and county jail. A statue of Jim Bowie stood in front of the courthouse. The streets that surrounded the town square were all small businesses, nothing commercialized. An old Catholic church was nestled a block away and so was the school and the football field. The only bar in town was on the opposite end. Railroad tracks to the south ran just outside the town center, next to the mill. It was a familiar small town set-up.

I sat at a table in a diner across the street from the courthouse, smoking a cigarette. Newt, an old man in his seventies wearing a cowboy hat and boots, sat across from me. Newt puffed on a cigar and stirred his coffee as I observed the townsfolk moving about and opening up their shops.

My senses were alive with the sounds and smells around me. As a young Hispanic kid mowed the grass in the town square with a push mower, I took in the smell of freshly cut grass and gasoline. The smell of baked bread from down the street drifted to my nostrils. A radio inside the diner played classic country music.

Newt took a sip of his black coffee and stared at me for a few moments before finally speaking. “What seems to be troubling you?”

I broke eye contact with him and ashed my cigarette. Newt was usually pretty good at avoiding small talk with me. Mostly we’d both just sit quietly, not having to bullshit with each other. I guess he sensed my strange mood this morning. “I’ve been here what, a month now?”

Newt nodded. “That seems about right. “

I took a deep drag from my cigarette. Something about Newt just made him easy to talk to. He never cast a judgment upon me, never sought out to give me advice. Just sat and listened. “I never intended to stay here this long. It started off as just one night, and that turned into three or four, and then I woke up this morning realizing I’m settling for a life I don’t want to live.”

Newt shrugged. “You’d be surprised how many people do just that.”

This threw me off. “But why?”

Newt looked directly at me with his light colored blue eyes. “Why not? Maybe they are tired of searching. Maybe they finally realized they’ll never achieve their dreams, so why keep chasing ‘em?”

I shook my head. “I haven’t given up on my quest just yet.” I realized how corny that might have sounded but again, no reaction from Newt.

Instead, he raised an eyebrow. “And what quest is that, my young friend?”

I glanced around to make sure you one else was around who might hear me. “To bring the darkness out of my soul.”

Newt nodded thoughtfully and motioned to the church down the street. “Sounds like you need to talk to a priest.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think a priest could help me at this point.”

Newt coughed, a harsh flemy cough that sounded like a piece of lung might come loose. “You remind me of myself, a longtime ago. It was right after the war.”

“The Civil War?”

“Careful now. I can still put a whuppin’ on you.”

I cracked a rare smile as Newt took another sip of coffee. “Korea. After the war, I felt displaced. Like I didn’t belong. So I left my home to search for answers.”

His eyes were distant now dealing with memories that hadn’t surface in a while. Pain, loss; trying to readjust to civilian life after experiencing the horror of war first hand.

“And what did you find?” I asked.

“Oh, I eventually found this town. It’s about as big now as it was back then. Hadn’t changed too much. Stopped here for a night, not sure where I was headed next.”

“So what happened?”

He shifted his lean body in the chair. “On my way out of town, I stopped over at the Woolworth’s to pick up a few things. “ He paused and a smile lit up his dried, wrinkled face. “Ended up meeting the love of my life. Got married a few months later and have lived here ever since.”

“Just like that?” I asked.

“Just like that.”

I leaned forward ashing my cigarette. “But what about searching for answers? Did you find them?”

Newt shook his head. “No, but I believe I came to this town for a reason. Do you believe in fate, Jake?”

“Yeah, I believe everything happens for a reason. I know there are those who think we control our own destiny. I used to think that way myself. But now I believe everything has a purpose, even the bad stuff. We just might not see the purpose until hindsight.”

Newt took that in and nodded. “That’s one way of putting it.”

We both stared off into the distance for a few moments. I had so much on my mind. “Do you still long for answers?”

“Not anymore. People can spend their entire lives searching for something they might never find. What do you expect to find out there anyway?”

I sipped from my coffee. “I’m not sure, but I know I not supposed to be here.”

Newt had a mischievous glint in his eyes. “There’s always a reason to stay.”

“There’s always a reason to leave as well.”

He gave his bony shoulders a shrug. “What ever you decide to do, just remember this. There are those who observe life and detach themselves from the rest of us, and there are those who participate in it, and suck the very nectar out of life. Don’t wait until you’re my age to decide to start living. You still have your entire life ahead of you.”

I crushed out my cigarette. “Yeah, lucky me.”

***

I worked over at the mill, loading bags of grain into the backs of pickup trucks. It was hot, hard work, and as with other things about this town, it suited me just fine. No thinking involved, just pure manual labor that left you exhausted by the end of the day. I was paid a fair wage for an honest days work. I’d always liked working outside. Something about it made me feel closer to the Earth than sitting in an office all day with no windows.

The work also served another purpose; calming the anger in my soul. By the end of the day I was usually too tired to be pissed off about anything.

I thought about that for a moment, taking the time to wipe the sweat from my brow. Maybe that is why I’d decided to stick around town for a while. Maybe deep down inside me somewhere, I really did want a normal life with a normal job.

The memory of my first day of work came into my mind. I’d really just needed some money for the road, the plan was to find some temporary work and then take off again. I was a minimalist, but even Caine in “Kung Fu” needed money now and then. I refused to be seen as a bum or a freeloader as other drifters were perceived. Despite all of my moral shortcomings, that was a line I would never cross. If it ever came to that point, that meant it was time for me to return home…if there was such a thing anymore.

Eddie walked out of the warehouse and started loading bags next to me. Eddie, a skinny black kid in early twenties, who’d never been more than three counties away from home his entire life. Other than Newt, was probably the only other person in town I’d consider calling a friend. I didn’t like to throw that word around lightly. But after a month off working alongside Eddie, a quiet, restrained friendship had slowly developed. Restrained because I knew it was only a matter of time before I left, so why have the emotional attachment of friendship? So call it whatever you like, friends or work buddies, Eddie seemed content with our casual friendship.

“So me and some of the boys are going out to San Angelo tonight. Interested?” Eddie asked.

I tossed another heavy bag in the back of a pickup truck and wiped the salty sweat out of my eyes.

“Come on, we might even pay Miss Cheeks a visit. I know you’ve heard about her. She’s so much woman, you pay for one lap dance, and three people get a piece of it.” Eddie closed his eyes and puckered his lips before laughing.

“I think I’ll pass.”

Eddie grabbed another bag and put it on his shoulder. “That’s what you said last week. What’s with you anyways? You don’t like people or something?”

“You could say that.”

Eddie loaded his bag on the truck and gave me a friendly slap on the back. I tensed reflexively. I was uncomfortable with anyone touching me. Isabella was just starting to break that out me with her.

Eddie looked at me and smiled. “You need to relax, man. Come on, a few beers will help loosen you up. You always look so tense. It’ll be fun, I promise. “

It had nothing to do with Eddie. I would have been fine going down to the bar with him after work and tossing back a few longnecks. But sitting in a car with some other guys I barely knew, having polite conversation was something I wanted no part of.

“No thanks. I think I’ll just hang around here tonight. “

Eddie shrugged. “No problem. Let me know if you change your mind.”

A shiny gray pick up set up high on oversized tires pulled up in the mill parking lot. The windows rolled down and the driver kept the truck running. Three guys I didn’t recognize were in the truck. By the looks of them they all seemed to be well fed country boys around the same age as Eddie.

I noticed Eddie tense when the truck pulled up. “I hate those guys,” he muttered, pretending to ignore them. “See the one on the passenger side? That’s Glenn. Surprised you haven’t seem him around here before. Struts around like he owns the damn town. His daddy probably owns most of the stores around here. “

I look at Glenn from the distance, trying to study his face.

“He’s not someone you want to cross paths with,” Eddie whispered.

“With a face like that, who wouldn’t keep their distance?”

Eddie grinned. “Those guys with him are the Harrison brothers, Wayne and Charlie. By themselves, not so bad. But when they hang around Glenn…” Eddie paused and shook his head. “It’s always bad news for someone.”

My eyes narrowed as the truck pulled up alongside Eddie and me at the loading dock. Eddie turned to face them. I kept working, loading up the truck.

Glenn hung a large arm out the window and smiled at Eddie. “Hey there, Buckwheat. How’s it hangin’, boy?”

Eddie forced a grin on his face. “Can I help you guys with something?”

Glenn spit out tobacco juice on the edge of the loading dock warehouse. “Not especially.” Glenn nodded towards me. “So who’s your new girlfriend there?”

Eddie glanced at me nervously, probably not knowing how I would react. I stopped working and met Glenn’s large dark eyes with my own. Staring into his soul, I had him figured out in a few short seconds. Nothing but an oversized spoiled brat really. Someone who’d always had his way since entering the world. Someone who used his size and his daddy’s reputation to bully.

Charlie hit Glenn in the shoulder. “Must have a struck a nerve in the ole boy, Glenn. Maybe you got his panties wet.”

I think Eddie was holding his breath as I continued to hold Glenn’s stare. Glenn eventually looked away, confused and pissed off that I hadn’t backed down.

“Come on, let’s get some burgers. I’m starvin’,” Wayne said.

Glenn turned back and sized me up before looking at Wayne. “Is that all you ever think about? Food. Jesus, I swear, Wayne.”

Glenn spit more tobacco juice, this time coming dangerously close to my boots. Glenn sneered at me, his nostrils flaring up, almost daring me to say something. His way of pissing on a tree I guess. “See you girls around,” Glenn said as truck tires spun out on the gravel parking lot before speeding away.

Eddie exhaled deeply and turned to me. “What the hell you trying to do, man?”

I watched the truck as is sped down the road. “What do you mean?”

“Having a stare down with Glenn Dawson. Are you insane?”

“I’m not going to let some rich boy hayseed stare me down.” I wasn’t angry. I was actually surprisingly calm.

Eddie shook his head. “You should have just let things be.”

“Someone needs to stand up to guys like that.”

Eddie grunted. “In this town? Good luck. Even the sheriff let’s them get away with most things. The people around here feel it’s not worth messing them. “

“That hardly seems right.”

Eddie slapped me on the back. “It might not be right, but that’s the way it is. As long as you live here, you’ll have to accept that.”

“I’ll try to remember that.” I stared off into the distance, feeling a cool breeze for the first time all day soothe my sun dried face. I wasn’t going to let the likes of Glenn Dawson ruin what had been a pretty good day.

***

After worked I walked down to the bar and had a greasy hamburger and fries for dinner. I smoked an after meal cigarette and then started drinking. Tequila shots, not the top shelf stuff, but not the bottom of the barrel cheap crap either. Something in between did the job. I chased down the shots with pints of Shiner Bach. After a few rounds, I was feeling pretty good.

The jukebox was playing an old George Strait song. There weren’t many people in the bar tonight. A few guys were in the back, playing pool. Another good sign for me. I couldn’t stand loud, crowded bars. I preferred to do my drinking alone, but it looked like I picked a good night to come in the bar. I didn’t feel like going back to the hotel room just yet.

I motioned to the bartender, an older woman in her fifties. She might have been younger, but her skin was so deeply tanned, it had aged her. Ten, maybe fifteen years ago she had probably been an attractive woman. She wore a tight fitting black tank top that did little to hide her large breasts, and black jeans that fit snugly on her round bottom. Several biker tattoos were on her arms and shoulder.

“Another round, please,” I said holding up my shot glass.

The bartender didn’t say anything to me as she set the drinks in front of me. She had learned a few weeks ago not to bother me with small talk. I tipped well, and she was smart enough to leave me alone. I took the shot. My throat felt that familiar burn and I winced as it went down. Good stuff.

Isabella appeared at my side wearing a short black dress and took a seat next to me at the bar. When she sat down the dress rode up high on her legs, exposing lots of thigh under dark panty hose. “Hey there, cowboy. You’re looking lonely tonight.” She smiled as she ran a finger down my beer glass.

I didn’t respond immediately so she leaned over and whispered in my ear. “What’s got you so sad?”

I took a sip from my beer. “Just doing some thinking, that’s all.”

She put a hand on my arm and said, “Anything I can do to help?”

I sighed, not wanting to deal with her right now. “Not tonight, Isabella. There’s a lot on my mind.” Maybe not the best choice of words but after a few shots and beers it was the best I could come up with.

She took my cigarette from the ashtray and took a deep drag. “How about I stop by your room later, just to check on you?”

“If you feel so inclined.” I’m not sure why I was being such a jerk to her. She seemed to take the hint though and stood up.

She kissed me on the cheek and smiled again as she stood to leave. “See ya around, cowboy.” Her hips swayed seductively as she walked out of the bar.

As I sipped from my beer I reflected on our relationship. A week ago, she wouldn’t have come up to me at the bar. She just would have showed up at my room. She was getting too comfortable with me was the thing. She probably didn’t even realize she was doing it, but coming over to me like that in the bar sent the message that we were now in some sort of relationship. That was the last thing I needed. I considered just ending it and not letting her in my room tonight. But hell, the sex was pretty damn good. For the time being, it was hard to argue with that.

I finished my beer and was about to order another one when the town Sheriff, a large man in his fifties, wearing a cowboy hat entered the bar. After scanning the sparse crowd for a moment with his hands on his hips, he took a seat next to mine.

I shook my head and tried to stand up to leave. This was the last thing I needed tonight. The Sheriff put a heavy arm on my shoulder and gave me a friendly smile. “Stay for a minute, we need to talk.”

I looked at him with uncertainty, but reluctantly settled back into my seat. I had a feeling he wasn’t there to arrest me. “I didn’t realize I was so popular around here.”

The Sheriff took some peanuts from the bowl. “Ever since you came upon my quiet little town, you’ve been this mystery to me. Like the man with no past.” He paused and tapped the side of his head. “I kept wondering, what’s this feller hiding?”

I lit up another cigarette. “Lots of people have secrets.”

“Maybe so, but I’ve had this nagging suspicion that what you’re hiding is more than the run of the mill small town secret.” He grabbed another handful of peanuts and ate them while he talked. “You see, people just don’t wander into the town by accident, not unless you already know someone here. Most folks have lived here their entire lives. They like the town the way it is. No hustle bustle of the big cities, no traffic jams. No gangs running around like packs of wild dogs. As you can tell, we get very few newcomers around here.”

I needed another drink but the bartender hadn’t noticed me yet. “So, since I’m a stranger here, and keep mostly to myself, that makes you suspicious? Come on Sheriff, you can do better than that.”

The Sheriff nodded knowingly and brought his voice low. “I know. That’s why I did some checking, and found out you fit the description of a man who wandered into an East Texas town a few months back. Witnesses who saw this fella described him as some sort of guardian angel who disappeared like a ghost.”

Our eyes locked, and my blood turned cold for a moment. So the Sheriff wasn’t as dumb as he looked.

“You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, boy?” He readjusted himself on the stool.

I remained silent, our eyes still locked before I looked away. The bartender finally saw me. “Around round, please.”

The Sheriff nodded. “I didn’t think so.” He took his hat off and scratched his short gray hair. “The thing that gets me though. There were these three boys who were raping a girl when this ghost came upon them with the fury of God himself. Didn’t stop until two were dead and the third wished he were. Now what do you think about that?”

The bartender came with my pint and I quickly took a large sip. “Sounds to me like this fella you’re talking about did a good deed. Probably deserves a medal or something.”

“I was thinking the same thing, off the record of course. As an officer of the law, I can’t endorse the actions of a vigilante.” He paused and turned to scan the rest of the bar. “Yep, it seems like this ghost has earned folk hero status out in East Texas.”

“Maybe he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

The Sheriff shook his head dismissively. “Sounds more like the right place at the right time.”

I took another long sip and sighed. The coyness of the Sheriff made me uncomfortable. “Is there a point you’re trying to make, Sheriff?”

“See, the way I see it. The reason this fella didn’t stick around is because he’s got a reason to be on the run.”

No point in holding back now. I was all in, time to see the Sheriff’s hand. “Maybe he didn’t want to bring attention to himself and answer a bunch of questions.”

“Perhaps, but I was thinking more along the lines of him having a record, or maybe he’s out on parole or on probation. Am I getting warm?”

I scratched the stubble on my face and remained silent.

The Sheriff continued. “The point I’m making is, this leaves us in quite a dilemma. I know who you are and I’m obligated to do something about it.”

I grunted. Yep, the Sheriff had pocket Aces the whole time. “So you going to arrest me?”

“I could, but I was thinking about dealing with this in another manner.”

My eyes narrowed as I glanced at him. Interesting.

“I have to drive this prisoner down to San Antone in the morning so I’ll be gone for most of the day. I was thinking, by the time I return, you’re gone.”

There you go, he ended up with a full house on the river. “And if I’m still here?”

The Sheriff shrugged. “I’ll have no choice but to lock you up.”

“It sounds like you have it all figured out.”

The Sheriff stood to leave, putting his hat back on. “I think this works out the best for both of us.”

He walked towards the door before turning to me one last time and pointed at me. “Tomorrow.”

I nodded reluctantly and finished my beer. So much for having a quiet drink.

***

The blades of the ceiling fan rotated slowly in the room, not doing much to circulate the air in the room. The air conditioning wasn’t working again. The window was open but there was no breeze tonight to offer relief.

I stared up at the ceiling while smoking a cigarette, watching the smoke rise up and then get caught in the current of the fan. My body was covered in sweat. Even a cold shower earlier had done little to cool me down. I was sweating again minutes after stepping out of the shower. Half a bottle of tequila was on the bed stand and Isabella was resting her head on my chest, right over my heart.

She played with my chest hair and sighed deeply. “Do you really have to leave tomorrow?”

“I don’t have much of a choice. “

She frowned. “There has to be a way you can stay.”

I shook my head. I think I was relieved actually that this had happened. This made leaving so much easier and took the burden off my shoulders for once. “No, I think it’s for the best. It’s time I moved on.”

She shifted her head so that her chin was now on my chest so she could see my eyes. “But how? You don’t have a car.”

I took a drag on my cigarette. “I’ll figure something out. I always do.”

She sat up in the bed. “You could always take me with you. I’ve been trying to get out of this town forever.

I laughed and she frowned. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, It’s just ,well, I usually travel alone.”

She moved her fingers along the sides of my stomach. “So don’t this time. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

I shook my head. “People don’t describe being with me as fun.”

Isabella looked deeply into my eyes. I hadn’t noticed how nice her eyes were up until then. I found comfort in them. “I like being with you.”

I sadly broke eye contact. Her eyes had an honest sincerity in them. Hooker or not, too good for me. “You barely know me.”

“Maybe so, but what I do know, I like.”

I sighed and sat up in the bed. “There are things about me, Isabella. Things I’ve done.”

“And you think I’m this innocent angel? Come on Jake, I’m not that naïve.”

“Look, I’m used to living my life a certain way. Abiding my certain rules.”

Isabella sat up in the bed and lit a cigarette. “So change your stupid rules. Are you really that stubborn?”

I crushed out my cigarette and took a drink of tequila straight from the bottle. “Yeah, most of the time I am.”

As she sat on the edge of the bed, smoking that cigarette, her long hair hung over her bare shoulders. I felt the urge to reach out and touch her. To caress her back; but I didn’t.

“I want to know you. You’re the only person I’ve ever met who doesn’t bullshit. You may be a man of few words, but when you speak, you speak from the heart. ”

I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the wall. “Why do you want to be with someone who hates themselves? My heart is black and soulless. I’m an empty shell on the inside.”

She set down her cigarette and put a hand to my face and looked deeply into my eyes again. “I can see the good in you, Jake.”

My gaze returned to the ceiling fan. I felt the walls closing in. “That’s exactly why you can’t come with me.”

***

The next morning I slept later than usual. Isabella was already gone by the time I woke up. I wasn’t sure what that meant, nor did I really care. I popped a handful of Tylenol to ward off my pounding hangover. I hadn’t slept well at all. So many thoughts running through my mind. I’d gotten up in the middle of the night and sat on the steps outside the room, smoking a cigarette as I took in the still, humid night air. I didn’t know what the hell I was going to do. I guess things had gotten more complicated than I realized.

As I splashed water on my face, I noticed the dark rings under my eyes and the several days worth of stubble. I didn’t feel like shaving again so I dressed quickly and got my duffle bag out of the closet and packed what few clothes I had.

I left the bag in the room, wanting to eat breakfast first. I felt myself moving in slow motion as I walked down the steps towards the town square.

Newt was waiting for me at our usual table. He put away the paper he’d been reading as I took a seat across from him. “I hear you’re leaving today.”

I shook my head. Freaking small towns. “I guess word travels fast around here.”

“I’m sort of the honorary deputy when the Sheriff goes out of town. “ He showed me his shiny badge on his heavily starch striped dress shirt.

“Pleasant guy, the Sheriff.”

Newt grinned and sipped from his coffee. “So you where headed?”

I scanned the menu, looking for something to help settle my stomach and my head. “Not sure yet. Where ever the wind takes me I guess.”

Newt just stared at me silently for a few moments. “What ?” I asked.

“I can see in your eyes that it’s true.”

“What’s true?”

“What the Sheriff told me about you.”

I lowered my eyes and shook my head as I set the menu down. My appetite disappeared.

“I see something else too.”

“Oh yeah, Newt, what’s that?”

“You long for peace of mind.”

I didn’t respond.

Newt nodded reassuringly. “Trust me, there’s hope for you. Your heart won’t be shrouded in darkness forever. You might not have found it here, but you will, somewhere.”

I wasn’t convinced and shook my head. “You know what Ambrose Bierce said about optimism? He said it’s the doctrine or belief that everything is beautiful, including what is ugly.”

***

On the other side of town, on a dusty gravel road a shiny gray pick up truck drove recklessly, speeding and fish tailing. Wayne drove with the windows down. Charlie sat in the middle with Glenn by the window. A bottle of whiskey was between them and loud rock music blared out of the speakers.

Further down the road, Eddie was walking with his two younger brothers, Shawn who was 10, and Tony, 8 to their grandma’s house. Eddie carried a bag of fresh vegetables, Shawn carried a warm just out of the oven apple pie, and Tony carried some soft drinks in a bag. Lunch at Grandma’s on Saturdays was a longtime family tradition. She lived a few miles outside of town and Eddie had taken his brothers into town to pick up a few things for the lunch. The smell of the apple pie made all three of them hungry as they walked.

Eddie heard the truck coming and guided his brothers just off the road, expecting it to pass by. He was surprised when the truck came to an abrupt halt right behind them, skidding in the gravel. The dust cloud forced them to cover their eyes so Eddie didn’t immediately recognize the truck.

Glenn leaned his head out the window and sneered at them. “Well lookie here. If it ain’t the three little niglets.”

Eddie turned and put a protective hand on his brothers’ shoulders. He whispered in their ears, “Don’t pay them no attention now. Just keep walking.”

Wayne spoke next. “Where ya’ll going? Ain’t the cotton fields the other way?”

All three guys in the truck exchanged laughter. Eddie shook his head and decided to keep walking.

Wayne slowly followed with the truck. “Hey boy! We’re talking to you. Didn’t your mama teach you some manners?” Charlie asked with a toothy grin.

Eddie stopped and faced the truck, his teeth clenched. To his brothers he said, “Run on ahead. We’re almost there.”

Shawn gave him a worried glance. “What about you?”

Eddie turned to his brothers had gave them a reassuring smile. “I’ll catch up in a minute.”

“Yeah, run along to your grammy. Be sure to save us some watermelon,” Glenn said.

Wayne and Charlie laugh as Shawn and Tony look at Eddie with fear in their eyes.

“Go on now, it’ll be alright,” Eddie told them.

Eddie watched them until they were a safe distance from the truck. He then slowly turned to face the truck. “What do you want?”

“We need some food stamps and heard you were the man to see,” Charlie said.

Eddie frowned and took one last glance at his brothers.

“No, seriously though, someone keyed Glenn’s car real bad last night,” Wayne said.

“Sorry to hear that,” Eddie said.

“Yeah, well, we was wondering where you were last night,” Wayne asked.

“What business is it of yours?” Eddie said, his voice nearly cracking.

Glenn leaned further out the window, taking a large sip from the whiskey bottle. “We figured it had to be a nigger to do something like that.”

“Glenn, I wouldn’t take a piss near your piece of shit car.”

Glenn spit out the window. “Where were you boy? Don’t make me get out the truck and ask you again.”

Eddie shook his head. “Are you sure you want to know?” He paused knowing he was about to cross a line he couldn’t go back. “I was with your mama, bitch. And I don’t think I was the first black guy she’s been with either.”

“He sure is a feisty one. You going to let him get away with that, Glenn?” Charlie asked.

Glenn bolted out of the truck with surprising speed and agility and took a wild swing at Eddie. Eddie dodged that first punch and shoved the unbalanced Glenn to the ground. Charlie and Wayne both laughed at Glenn.

Glenn angrily picked himself off of the ground, hate in his eyes now.

“Get ‘em, Glenn!” Wayne egged on.

Glenn charged Eddie once again. Eddie stood his ground and punched Glenn squarely on the nose. The nose exploded in a red cloud and Glenn dropped to the ground, his nose squirting blood. Eddie, with his fists still clenched, slowly backed away from Glenn.

Charlie and Wayne got out of the truck and helped get Glenn to his feet. Eddie was breathing heavy as he continued to back away. “I didn’t want no trouble. You guys are the ones who started this. Remember that.”

Glenn glared at Eddie, his eyes black with rage. “Get that sonofabitch!”

Charlie and Wayne are on top of Eddie before he can turn to run. They tackle him to the ground and kick and punch him mercilessly. Eddie curls up to protect himself from the brutal assault that lasts a long drawn out minute. When Eddie finally stops trying to protect himself, they ease up, and see that he is not moving. A nervous look is shared between Charlie and Wayne.

Glenn, still holding his busted nose, walked to the back of the truck. “Gimme the chain.”

Charlie hesitated. “Wait a minute, Glenn. Isn’t this going…”

“Gimme the goddamn chain!” Glenn snarled, his face turning red.

Charlie handed the chain to Glenn and made quiet eye contact with his brother who remained speechless.

Wiping the blood off his nose, Glenn finished the bottle of whiskey with a gulping last sip and tossed it into the ditch. With the chain in hand, Glenn walked towards Eddie.

Eddie’s eyes grew wide in horror. “Please! Don’t!”

***

I walked down main street with the duffle bag over my shoulder, taking my last walk through the town. The midday sun, hanging high in the cloudless sky, seemed to dare me to try to last the day walking in it. I’d picked a hell of a time to leave. My plan was to head south. What little cash I did have was split between my wallet and inside my right boot. I’d have to make due for a while.

When I came to the Jim Bowie statue, I stopped and stared up at it. Most famous as one of the men defending the Alamo, Bowie had been somewhat of a drifter in his younger years, never staying in one place for too long, and never one to shy away from a fight. To me, he’d always been the most interesting character of that group of men who defended that old mission. Years before the Alamo, he’d been part of a group of American adventurers funded by the US government who had tried to liberate Texas from the Spanish. Always looking for ways to make a quick buck, he was constantly on the move. That was until he married a Mexican girl from a wealthy family and settled in San Antonio. Rumor had it he’d found the lost silver mines near San Saba, though to this day, no one has been able to verify that.

Even a restless spirit like Jim Bowie had been able to settle down. So what the hell was my problem? Well, at the moment I didn’t have much of a choice considering I had a jail cell waiting for me if I stayed. I wondered if it was always going to be like this, having to look over my shoulder, dreading the day my past caught up to me and I was locked away forever. I gave Jim a final salute as I turned to leave, pushing my cowboy hat low on my head. I took in a deep breath and started off.

***

In the Sheriff’s office, Newt sat leisurely at a desk, reading the paper and chewing on a cigar. A small fan hummed from a corner of the desk. A fly buzzed around the room, doing just enough to annoy Newt. Johnny Cash sang a prison song on the tiny clock radio. There was a certain calm boredom in the office on that hot day.

The door suddenly opened.

Shawn and Tony are both out of breath as they stepped inside. Shawn tried to speak between breaths. “Eddie…he’s…in…trouble.”

Newt stood up, a fiery glint in his old blue eyes. “What kind of trouble?”

***

Why it happened, nobody can be sure. Psychologists and politicians can offer up dollar store excuses, but they serve as agents used to calm the masses. If the truth ever got out that some things are just FUBAR, with no rhyme or reason, people would freak out. It scares people to think of our cruel primitive nature that is still embedded deep within our DNA. That is one thing that makes us different from animals. People speak of us as having souls, well there is a flip side to a soul. Animals kill and fight out of survival, for establishing their territory, or to impress a mate. We kill for many of the same reasons, but what makes us uniquely different is an inherent evil that resides in some of us. An evil that makes us kill out of pure and simple cruelty.

When Cain killed Abel, why did he do it? What inside him snapped and made him cross the line? What makes any of us cross the line?

For Glenn Dawson, it might have been the perfect combination of booze, prescription drugs, PCP, his daddy not giving him enough attention, and an extraordinarily bad day. That would be the simple reason TV reporters would give. To me, Glenn Dawson had that blackness in his eyes that I’d seen before. If it hadn’t happened when it did, it would have happened sooner rather than later. Of that I was certain. And in such cases, much like that of a rabid dog, they only true way to deal with them was to take them out to pasture. The problem usually arose in trying to find someone willing to do the dirty work that most folks wanted no part of.

The pickup truck rumbled down Main Street, the engine revving loudly. Eddie is limply tied to the chain attached to the trailer hitch. His body is covered in light colored dust mixed with tiny rocks and blood. The truck skids to a stop outside the bar at the far end of the street.

As Wayne gets out of the truck and sees Eddie lying in a pulp of bloody mulch, he vomits next to the back truck tire.

Glenn laughed and slapped him on the back. “Walk it off, son.”

Charlie walked over to his brother. “You okay, man?”

Glenn snorted, his eyes glazed over. “Shit, he’ll be fine once we get in the bar. We ought to do this more often, boys. We’ll clean the niggers out of this town for good.”

Charlie glanced at Eddie’s unmoving body nervously. “Don’t you think, we ought to…”

“Stop being a pussy. That’s goes for both of you.” Glenn nods towards Eddie and spits on him. Eddie makes a slight movement and moans lightly. “See, he’s fine. Come on, I’m thirsty.” Glenn walks into the bar as Wayne and Charlie reluctantly follow.

***

All across Main Street, people have stepped outside and stared at the limp body behind the pickup. An eerie silence came upon the town.

Madison Weathers, the beauty shop owner in her forties, gasped, “Oh my God! Is that a body?”

Judy Borloski, one of her regular customers said, “Where’s the Sheriff?”

Norman Reynolds, the middle aged owner of the ice cream shoppe next door said, “We have to do something.”

His wife was at his side and shook her head. “Do you really want to get involved with that Dawson boy?”

Norman looked at the other people on the street for support. “We can’t just stand here and do nothing,” he persisted.

“I can,” his wife said, closing the door to the shoppe and shutting the window blinds. As she locked the door she said, “I didn’t see anything.”

Norman looked at Eddie’s body and made the sign of the cross. “Have mercy on our souls, Lord.”

I watched the entire scene unfold before my eyes. People locking their doors, shutting their windows, not wanting to get involved. If I hadn’t known Eddie, that probably would have been the easy road for me to take. Just turn around and walk the other way; forget I’d seen anything.

I hurried over to the Sheriff’s office and was met by Newt, a revolver hanging from his belt. “You need to call an ambulance,” I said.

“I already did.” He paused, looking me over. “I thought you were leaving.”

“So did I.”

I dropped my bag and sprinted over to Eddie. When I got to him, it was worse that I could have imagined. His clothes torn, his bruised and battered body a bloody mess. Most of the skin from his arms and face had been rubbed off and was now covered with bits of rock and dirt. I untied the chain from his body. “Hang in there, buddy. Help is coming.”

I felt a light pulse on his wrist, but Eddie wasn’t responding. I glanced down the deserted street. Newt made it over to the truck and tried to catch his breath. He knelt down next to me. “How is he?”

I shook my head. “We need to get him to a hospital fast.”

Newt nodded grimly and glanced towards the bar. “Don’t worry yourself with those boys. I’ll take care of them.”

“But Newt, there’s three of them.”

Newt stood up and dusted off his pants and straightened his hat. “I know. And this needs to be handled delicately.”

“Delicately? They dragged Eddie behind a truck for Christ’s sake!”

Newt kept his eyes on the bar door. “There doesn’t need to be any further bloodshed. Trust me, I’ve dealt with this type before.”

“So have I, and there’s only one way to deal with them.” I stared towards the bar, my anger almost beyond the point of no return. “You get a hold of the Sheriff?”

Newt nodded. “I left him a message.”

He took a deep breath, his eyes focused with a fiery intensity. “You stay with Eddie. I’m going inside.”

Like something out of an old western, people watched from their windows as Newt began the lonely walk towards the bar. His steps sounded heavy on the dusty sidewalk.

I took another look down the street, still expecting someone else to help.

Newt slowly opened the door to the bar and stepped inside. As the door swung closed, he disappeared.

I held Eddie’s hand, still not responding. I looked at the pick up truck and for a moment thought about putting Eddie inside and driving him to the nearest hospital. But I didn’t even know where or how far away that was.

The gunshots came sudden and unexpected. Two of them, CRACK, CRACK is what they sounded like coming from the bar. Several black birds sitting on a nearby power line flew away. Everything grew silent as if nature herself paused for a few brief moments.

My eyes were frozen on the bar door as it slowly opened. Newt appeared, holding the revolver in front of him. A red stain on the front of his striped shirt grew larger. He stumbled towards me and collapsed beside the truck.

Newt’s eyes locked on mine as the life quickly left his old body. No last words, no time for prayers. Just an old man bleeding to death on a dusty street, alone except for me.

I looked up at the sky. In the grand scheme of things, what was the purpose of this? Up in the empty blue sky, there were no answers for me, only more silence, as if God wanted me to figure this one out all by myself. How comforting.

I fell to my knees and closed my eyes, not in prayer, nor in anger but as a way to recalibrate my senses and ponder whether to make my next move with my mind or with my heart. The decision was a simple one.

When I opened my eyes, I grabbed Newt’s revolver, and stared at the door to the bar with a burning anger in my eyes. The .357 felt strangely comfortable in my hands, like embracing a long time friend. It had been a while since I’d handled a gun, but it felt good. I stood up and put the revolver in the front of my pants, hidden under my shirt. Slowly, I walked to the door. Tunnel vision blocking everything else out of my mind. I paused briefly before pushing the door open.

***

The sunlight pierced through the darkness of the bar as the door swung open. Silence hushed over everything. My steps sounded loud on the wood floor as I walked inside. All eyes were on me.

My eyes scanned the illuminated darkness. Charlie, Wayne, and Glenn were at a table, drinking a bottle of whiskey. A pistol was on the table in front of Glenn. The bartender cowered in the corner behind the bar. My eyes settled and fixed upon Wayne, Charlie, and Glenn.

“Who does the truck belong to?”

Wayne stood up. “It’s mine. Who the fuck are you?”

In a smooth, fluid motion, I drew the revolver and squeezed the trigger.

Wayne is hit dead center in the chest. He crashed to the saw dust covered floor with a large sucking chest wound and began to bleed out.

Glenn and Charlie jumped to their feet. Glenn had the gun raised at me.

“Wayne didn’t do anything! He was innocent!” Charlie screamed, running to his brother.

I kept my eyes on Glenn. My voice was calm and level. “He should have thought about that before he used his truck to drag my friend. If anyone else thinks they’re innocent, now’s the time to leave.”

The bartender hesitated and then made a mad dash for the door. The door swung loudly shut.

“You killed my brother you sonofabitch!” Charlie ran at me like a big, sweaty, wild hog.

I calmly shot Charlie in the knee. He fell over a table and knocked over a chair, screaming in pain.

Glenn stepped out from behind his table. I aimed the gun at him next, my finger on the trigger.

Glenn tossed his gun back on the table and put his hands up. “Whoa, there partner! Hold on a sec. ”

Glenn’s face was sweaty and pale. His dark eyes were set deep in his large head. He wiped the sweat from his forehead. “How about this? I walk out of here and turn myself in. Let a judge and jury decide my fate.”

I shook my head. “They’re out of town. Today, right now, I am your judge and jury.”

“Wait, wait! How about I surrender to you. You take me in.”

“It’s a little late for that.”

Glenn laughed nervously and took a sip from the whiskey bottle. “What, you want to do this the old fashioned way? Step outside and walk ten paces?”

“Nah. I like it in here. It’s more intimate, don’t you think?”

Glenn stopped laughing and finally saw the fire in my eyes. “Who are you?”

“Nobody. Just a guy who refuses to stand by and do nothing.”

I cocked the revolver. “Did Eddie beg for his life when you chained him to the truck?”

Glenn nodded his head and sneered. “Yeah, the nigger was crying like a little bitch.”

I nodded. “If you want to start begging for yours, now’s the time.”

Charlie continued to scream and was curled on the floor in front of me. “Goddamn you, Glenn! I didn’t want no part of this! Wayne is dead because of you!”

“Don’t act like your hands are clean!” Glenn yelled.

Charlie looked up at me. Fear and pain in his eyes. “You got to believe me! I didn’t want no part of this! It was all Glenn!”

I looked down at him and for a brief moment, almost felt sorry for him. “Sometimes doing nothing is just as bad as doing something.”

Glenn rubbed a shaking hand across his face. The fear was finally starting to set in. He took another sip of whiskey, the bottle shaking in his hand. He grinned nervously at me. “I guess this is it then.”

My eyes were cold and indifferent as I stared at him. I didn’t feel anything. “Yep.”

Glenn slowly reached down and wrapped his chubby fingers around the pistol. “I’m ready when you are, Ace.”

That was when things went dark. I heard three gunshots. Sudden, powerful, brutal. The smell of gunpowder in my nostrils, my ears ringing from the deafening sound. That’s all I remember. That and my world spinning in a dark cloud wildly out of control.

***

I walked slowly along the rail road tracks, just outside of town. Blood dripped slowly down my arm from a gunshot wound in my shoulder. The bright red blood splattered in large drops on the light colored dust. I don’t remember walking out of the bar or how I got to the railroad tracks. I didn’t know where I was going. Things were still spinning. A near empty bottle of whiskey had replaced the revolver in my hand. Another old friend, welcoming my embrace. I took down the last bit of whiskey before tossing the bottle on the tracks.

I heard a train approaching in the distance. My mind couldn’t comprehend time or distance. I staggered forward a few more steps. I wanted the spinning to stop, but instead it overwhelmed me. I was too tired to fight it. I closed my eyes and collapsed on the tracks, welcoming the darkness. Maybe this was what I had been seeking all along.

The rumble on the tracks told me the train was getting closer. Yes, this would be a good ending. Welcome the darkness. Run towards it. Don’t resist. I allowed my mind to rest.

Through the darkness I felt myself being pulled out of it. What was happening? Something was pulling at me, forcing me back to reality.

The darkness faded and as my vision cleared, I saw Isabella standing before me. She smiled when she saw that I was awake.

“I didn’t want you to miss your ride.”

I looked at her confused, still trying to figure out how I gotten out of the bar.

She saw my confusion and shrugged. “I figured you’d take the train. Seem to fit your style.”

I shook my head. “Isabella, you can’t…”

She grabbed my hand. “Don’t say anything. I’m coming with you. That’s all you need to know.”

I nodded reluctantly as the south bound train sped by us loudly. It was now or never. “Follow me,” she said.

Hesitating slightly, I took her hand and followed her lead. I just realized how close I had been to being crushed by the train if Isabella hadn’t come along. Within seconds.

And if the bullet in my shoulder had been a few inches lower. That was enough to make a believer out of anyone. I’m not sure what I need to believe in, but it was something. I’d have time to figure out that later.

–September 7, 2009