Mother Road Ch. 05 - One For The Road

On my trip down Route 66 all those years ago, I'd been filling the tanks in my motorhome in Sapulpa, Oklahoma when a crazy old man warned me to avoid the Goodlin Road bypass because of the witch that lived there. I remember his exact words, "...don't never look her in the eyes - if'n you do you'll be bewitched - she'll gitcha fer sure!" Well, he wasn't wrong. A bridge was out, and I was diverted down Goodlin Road, met the witch - Laura - and with one look from those green eyes, I was a goner.

Knowing that Dotty had those same eyes, I should have given Walter the same warning that the geezer gave me, but in retrospect it probably would have had the same effect - none. There was no getting around the fact that Silas and Ruth Terhune's brood of 14 children included at least two red-haired beauties with green eyes that could stop a man dead in his tracks. When Walter stepped in and saw Dotty, that's exactly what happened.

I jumped in and introduced Walter. "Dorothy Harmon, I'd like to introduce my long-time friend and business partner, Walter Connor. Walter, meet Laura's sister, Dorothy."

"Call me Dotty, please."

His face suddenly flushed; Walter extended his hand. "It's very nice to meet you," he said as she shook it. His voice had an odd quaver in it I'd never heard before. He took a breath as if to calm himself. "I can tell you and Laura are sisters, you're both so..." I could see several of drops of sweat forming on his brow as he searched for the right word, "...striking." Well done, Walter. Not bad for an opening move.

No shrinking violet, Dotty smiled and came right back at him, "Thank you, Mr. Connor, you're quite an impressive specimen yourself. Laura and Tom have spoken so highly of you, I'm so grateful you've come to help." Whoa! Something was cooking in our kitchen, and it sure wasn't the stove.

Just then Trent ran into the kitchen, being chased by TJ as they played tag. He pulled up short when he spotted Walter, his eyes wide. Running to Dotty's side, he clung to her arm.

She spoke to her son softly, "Trent, this is Mr. Connor. He's come to help Uncle Tom and Aunt Laura in case Daddy tries to take you away." I'd seen Walter at his meanest and most threatening; he certainly could be one very scary dude, but what I saw next blew me away.

Walter knelt down, his head at Trent's level and spoke very gently. "Don't be scared, little guy. I'm on your side. You know how sometimes you think there are monsters under your bed?"

Trent nodded his head. "Well, I'm the guy the monsters are scared of. I promise you, nothin' and nobody's gonna hurt you as long as I'm here. You believe me?" Trent shook his head again. We weren't done being surprised, though. Running forward, Trent wrapped his little arms around Walter's massive left bicep. The shocked look on Walter's face was priceless.

"Mommy, I like this man," he said, "I want him to stay."

Walter rubbed the top of Trent's head, then stood up. "Ladies, if you don't mind, I need to speak to Tom outside about security arrangements," he said gruffly, and headed for the door. I followed him out onto the porch.

We stood and looked into the darkness for a minute, then Walter spoke quietly, "Tom, that little boy hugged me. He doesn't even know me, but he trusted me. Just like that."

I had to chuckle, "Yeah, Walter, just like that. Kids can be good judges of character. He could see you're a good man."

Walter's voice got heavy, "It makes me really mad that somebody would ever hurt him. I feel like I'd kill anybody that would ever lay a hand on him." He looked at me with a quizzical expression, "Is this what it feels like, being a dad?"

"Yeah, Walter, that's a lot of it. Now you know how I was feeling when we went after Brad for hurting Olivia."

"I get it now, and don't feel bad at all about his Corvette being torched."

I shushed the big man, "Shhh! That's out little secret, remember?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry. I forgot."

"You all set now, my friend?"

"Yeah, thanks, Tom. I'm going to run back to my apartment and grab a few things, then I'll be back. Just as a precaution, we'll guard the place tonight. I'm going to spend the night here with you."

"You really think he'll be back soon?"

"Tom, he's a fucking tweaker, he's impulsive, paranoid, and has no patience. Trust me, he'll be back tonight. We'll be ready."

Walter got in his El Dorado and quickly took off. I walked back into the kitchen and was ambushed by Dotty. "Tom, what did Walter say? Where did he go?"

"Walter had to go back to his apartment for a few things, then he'll be back. He expects your soon-to-be-ex will be returning once night falls. We'll be ready."

Then she asked in a surprisingly shy voice, "Did he say anything about Trent and me?"

"Frankly, he was overwhelmed by Trent. You have to understand, Walter hasn't been exposed to children much. For the past 30 years he's working exclusively with nasty, hardcore tough guys. He's never experienced anything like Trent hugging him. He doesn't know exactly how to feel about it, but one thing's certain, Walter is a good friend and intensely loyal. I promise you, if anyone tries to lay a hand on Trent, Walter will make him dead."

Dotty's eyes got wide, and she looked at Laura. My wife merely nodded, "That's no idle threat, Dotty. Walter has a big heart for his friends, but he can be hard man when he has to be."

My sister-in-law seemed as overwhelmed by Walter as Walter had been overwhelmed by Trent. She asked, "What about me, did he mention anything?" I shook my head and laughed.

"He didn't need to say anything, Dotty. In case you didn't read his reaction, those damned Terhune family eyes of yours got his attention. He once confided in me how pretty he thinks Laura is, and you look so much like her it's scary. You can draw your own conclusions." Laura's eyebrows went up when she heard that. Then I asked, "Are you following me, or do I need to draw a map for you?"

Dotty gave a little cough, "I, um, think I see what you're saying."

"There's one thing you need to be aware of, Dotty. Walter may be older, but up to this point he's never been in a real relationship that I know of. I'm a college-educated debonair executive type who can talk Laura out of her panties with ease," I paused and winked at my now-blushing bride, "but when it comes to talking to women, Walter still has his learner's permit. If you want to get to know him, you might have to help him with the words to express his feelings."

Now Dotty was blushing, "I see. Thank you, Tom, that was very... informative."

I glanced at the clock. "Walter will be back in a bit. I'm going to take Laura upstairs and put her to bed, she needs her rest." I helped Laura up, and walked upstairs with her.

Back in our bedroom, she sat on the bed as I got out a fresh nightgown for her. I took off her sweatshirt and sweatpants, then pulled off her panties. I couldn't help myself, before dressing her I ran my hands up and down her torso, caressing that wonderful belly and her full breasts, planting some kisses here and there as I did so.

She asked, "Tom, did Walter really tell you he thought I was pretty?" I stopped my kissing for a moment.

"Yes, my love, he confessed to me how when he saw us dancing together at Olly's wedding, he decided he wanted a relationship just like ours." I grabbed her nightgown and slipped it on her. "I can't blame him, I mean look at you, Laura!"

I pressed my lips to hers for a long, slow kiss, then murmured, "You're the perfect woman, and I'm the lucky bastard that's married to you. Your sister has an advantage in that she looks a lot like you, I hope her personality is as sweet as yours. Walter deserves that."

I lowered my face and pressed it into her cleavage, "It's probably going to be a long night, I'll miss these."

She giggled, "I'll keep them warm for you, darling." Another kiss, then I finished dressing her and went back downstairs.

Dotty was sitting at the table, deep in thought. Now that she'd been with us a while, she'd started to relax. Her face didn't look so pale and drawn out, she was looking almost as pretty as her sister. I had to ask the question that was burning in my mind since I had the displeasure of meeting her husband.

"Dotty, I'm really curious, how in the world did you end up married to a fucking loser like Sonny Harmon?"

"Of the 14 of us, I was the last Terhune to leave home. All the other kids had moved out of Rankin as soon as they were 18, but I stayed home and took care of Dad until he died. He outlived Mom by about 10 years. After he passed, I was 30 years old with nowhere to go. With no more Social Security from Dad to live on, I took a waitressing job to support myself. It was at a truck stop on I-20, just outside of Odessa.

That's where I met Sonny. He was a short-haul trucker in the area, so he stopped in several times a week. I know he looks like hell now, but back then he was handsome, sweet, and employed. After we got married, he got the warehouse job to be close to home. I had Trent a year after we were married. Ironically, the day Sonny got fired for stealing was the day I went into labor.

We needed money for the baby, so he started selling meth. He was never an angel, but his personality really changed at that point. Money was coming in, but after a few months he started using meth himself and he stopped being the man I loved. He smelled awful, his eyes got jumpy, he lost interest in sex, and seldom slept. He was constantly agitated, nervous, and irritable, and sometimes aggressive.

He'd argue with me about stupid things like the color of Trent's pajamas. He started to hallucinate that people were watching him. The violent outbursts were getting worse, but when he hit Trent, that finally forced me to leave." Tears were pouring down her face now.

"I'm not a bad person or a bad mother, Tom. I fell in love with the wrong guy. I wish I'd gotten lucky like Laura and met someone like you." I handed her a facial tissue to wipe away her tears.

I took her hand to comfort her. "You don't know the whole story, Dotty. I'm Laura's fourth husband. The first and second ones died, but the third one was cut from the same cloth as Sonny. He had three kids with her, and then abandoned her and ran off with some slut. You got it wrong, though. Laura's not the lucky one, I am. Your sister has been the perfect wife for me for 15 years.

If it gives you any hope, I'll tell you one thing. Walter Connor's no playboy. He's a mature man looking for a serious relationship. I hope when all this is behind us, you'll get to know him better."

I heard the crunch of gravel, and a car door slam, heralding Walter's return.

The sun was setting. Walter was standing by the El Dorado with a big duffel bag. As I got closer, he threw a Kevlar vest at me. "Put this on, just in case." I noticed he was wearing one as well under the holster of that big .454 revolver.

There were also two shotguns laying on the hood of the Cadillac. "These are Vietnam-era Ithaca Model 37 trench-sweepers," he explained, "We don't know how many guys will be coming at us, so it's good to have these for the broadest target spread. The shells are filled with buckshot so they'll hurt like hell but shouldn't kill anyone unless they're up close."

He opened a smaller duffel bag and brought out an 8" black cylinder with a pull ring. "I got two dozen M11 Multi-Burst flash-bang grenades in here."

"Grenades! Walter, are you serious?"

"Relax, Tom, these are civilian-legal. They don't throw shrapnel, they just pop off three separate bangs to make a fuck-ton of noise, and more importantly a fuck-ton of light. The flashes will also blind whoever is coming at us in the dark. Does that old motorhome still run?" I nodded.

"Good. Go park it down by the road to block the driveway. There's about 150 feet of barbed wire fence bordering the road on either side of the drive. I'll run some tripwires along the fence line to set off the M11s. With the driveway blocked they'll try to sneak in over the fence. Believe me, we'll hear them coming."

I moved the Gulf Stream Touring Cruiser down to the end of the drive and parked it crossways, then drove down the old John Deere and parked it a few yards behind the RV for good measure. Unless Sonny had a monster truck or a M1 Abrams tank, he wasn't coming up the drive.

I checked on everyone, they were in their beds. Trent and TJ were oblivious and fast asleep, but Pearl, Lucas, Amelia, and Natalie nervously lay wide awake. Laura and Dotty shared a bed holding each other for comfort, probably for the first time since they were young girls.

In case anything should start to happen, everyone had instructions to move to the cabin. I had to hand it to the Reverend Watkins; when he built the cabin, he'd used thick logs for the walls. With the 2" thick wooden storm shutters closed to protect the windows, the chances of anything or anybody getting through were pretty slim.

Somebody had brewed a pot of coffee, so Walter and I sat on the front porch of the farmhouse drinking coffee, listening, and watching for any kind of trouble. At one point, Walter turned to me.

"So, Tom," he said in a low voice, "do you think Dotty likes me? I mean, if I asked her out to dinner, would she accept?" It struck me as funny that this 50-year-old man wearing a Kevlar vest and armed to the teeth was having an internal debate about whether or not he had a shot at getting a date with a woman he was risking serious injury for. I didn't laugh, though. This was my friend asking.

"Walter, if you're a betting man, I have a $100 bill that says she'll say yes."

He was quiet for a moment, then replied, "Good." After a minute, he asked, "Do you think Dotty's a good kisser?"

I replied, "Walter, if she kisses anything like Laura, I promise you'll never want another woman."

He sat for a second, then again replied, "Good," following it up with, "have you noticed her..."

I saw this coming a mile away, and completed his sentence for him, "Her eyes. Yes, Walter, she and Laura have the same eyes. They make you weak in the knees, don't they?"

He chuckled, "Yeah. That they do," then he sighed deeply, "I sure hope she likes me."

"I'm highly confident she does, Walter, you made a rather good first impression. Plus, Trent's endorsement meant a lot, I'm sure."

"Thanks, Tom." Then he held up his hand, "Listen. Someone's coming."

He was right, I heard the sound of boots crunching on the gravel driveway, then I heard Sonny shouting, "I WARNED YOU OLD MAN, YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE FUCKED WITH ME!" There was a whooshing sound, and then a sudden orange glow. It was the Gulf Stream on fire, lighting up the night.

I ran into the house and shouted, "EVERYONE INTO THE CABIN!" With Pearl and Lucas carrying Trent and TJ, the family evacuated the house and locked themselves in the solid structure within 30 seconds.

I stepped back outside and watched 15 years of memories go up in smoke. I'd inherited the Gulf Stream from my folks after they died. After my divorce from Beverly, it brought me here via Route 66 from Chicago, and it brought Liam and I out of a horrible rainstorm, which in turn had led me to Laura.

The first time Laura ever kissed me in front of the kids was in that motorhome, it had taken our family on countless adventures when they were younger, it had been a sanctuary for James before he met Melissa, most recently it had carried Elijah to visit his father in prison. Now it was gone, quickly turning into melted aluminum, steel and glass. It hurt a bit to see that, but I could live with it. My irreplaceable treasures were safe in the cabin.

Then the flash-bang grenades started going off. The intruders had stepped through the trip wires.

Now, nobody ever said meth heads were geniuses. Sonny setting the RV on fire was dramatic but incredibly stupid, as it backlit every one of his meth friends trying to sneak up on the farmhouse. There was light gunfire as Sonny's pals took a few shots at us, but Walter remained calm, slowly and methodically firing his shotgun. The resulting screams were testimony to the accuracy of his aim.

I raised my shotgun and fired at the moving shapes as well, although I was hardly the marksman that Walter was. Nonetheless, our combined field of fire seemed enough. Several of Sonny's pals were down on the ground yelling in pain, the remainder appearing to have had enough and fled.

Suddenly there was a roar, and an old high-lift Chevy Silverado 4x4 pickup came tearing through the barbed wire fence to the left of the burning motorhome. Walter dropped the shotgun and pulled the Raging Bull .454 from its holster.

Dropping into a shooting stance, he let off three quick shots at the oncoming pickup. The Silverado's windshield disintegrated, and one of the oversized front tires blew as the big slugs hit home. The loss of the right front tire combined with the vehicle's speed and high center of gravity dropped the nose down and to the right; the truck rolled onto its right side and slid to a stop.

Walter and I ran up to the truck. Sonny was crawling out of the cab through the opening of the shattered windshield. Walter reached down, picked him up like a rag doll, and threw him against the now-vertical hood of the truck. Walter shouted, "Not so tough NOW, are you, you miserable piece of shit?"

Sonny was stunned, bleeding from his ears and nose. He hadn't been wearing a seatbelt and had gotten tossed around when the truck went over.

Like a Viking berserker, Walter began a serious beat-down on the meth-headed weasel. He back-handed Sonny, hard enough to spin him around, leaving him crumpled in the dirt. "You beat up women and little kids? Let's see how YOU like it, motherfucker!"

Then he kicked Sonny in the ribs, and I clearly heard them crack. On the one hand, Sonny was down. I could have asked Walter to stop, but on the other hand this guy and his goons had just burned mu RV and tried to attack my home and family. We were well within the limits of the law in defending our home, so fuck him. He had it coming.

Then Walter pointed his pistol at Sonny. If he pulled the trigger on that big .454, I knew we'd be picking up what was left of Sonny's head with a soup spoon. Since the Oklahoma Firearms Act takes a dim view on trespassers trying to kill you, the cops would probably send us a hand-written thank-you note.

Walter was about to end this piece of garbage when Dotty screamed, "WALTER, DON'T KILL HIM!"

After the truck went on to its side, thanks to light from the burning motorhome Dotty could see Sonny crawling out and had come running out of the cabin.

Walter kept his eyes on Sonny, his foot firmly planted on the meth-head's chest, pinning him to the ground. Without looking at her, he shouted, "Dotty, this son of a bitch abused you and your son, and he just tried to kill Tom and me. Legally, I could pull this trigger and the law would be 100% on my side."

Keeping the pistol pointed at Sonny's head, his voice rose to a roar and spittle flew out of his mouth as he shouted, "GIVE ME ONE GOOD REASON WHY I SHOULDN'T KILL THIS FUCKING RODENT!"

Dotty walked up to Walter and gently wrapped her short arms around him. In an amazingly calm voice she replied, "Because I don't want Trent to grow up remembering you as the bad man who killed his father. I want him to grow up remembering you as the nice man who scared away the monsters under his bed."

Walter stood still for a moment, and his breathing slowed. Then he rotated the cylinder to an empty position, un-cocked the hammer and re-holstered the pistol. He turned to me and in a quiet voice said, "Tom, go get those goddam divorce papers and a fucking pen."

I ran inside to get the papers and pen and came back out. Laura had dialed 9-1-1 when we'd evacuated the house; sirens were now wailing in the distance. Walter knelt down next to Sonny and put the pen in his hand.