Pheasant Construction

Once she returned she was expected to service Destry and his boys.

She didn't know what to do.

I wanted to make things very clear to her. We were not getting back together, I told her. Way too much had happened. But I would help her. I just wasn't quite sure how at that moment.

We ended up talking for a long time. She cried and wished she had never been around Marshall. I told her I agreed but you can't change what has already happened.

We talked of happier times and we laughed about a few things. It was comfortable and friendly. Maybe some of the most open and honest conversations we had ever had.

We paused for a moment and I debated whether to ask the next question but my curiosity won out, so I asked her.

"Tracie tell me about the hide and seek game, what was that all about?" I asked with a smile. I was thinking this was a safe light hearted subject.

She stared down. She didn't speak for perhaps two full minutes. I assumed she just wasn't going to reply.

Finally with a whisper, her voice an octave or two higher, childlike she told me a story.

"My daddy used to live with us. He was gone a lot. He drove a truck."

I was wondering what this had to do with my question. I said nothing, just listened.

"When he was home he was angry a lot. My Mom told me not to make him angry. When he played with me I was so happy." She continued in that little girl voice.

"We lived in an old farmhouse on the outskirts of Prarieview. I think I was around 4 years old. It was a big house. He liked to play hide and seek with me."

"One day I begged him to play with me. He was in a bad mood, but finally he told me he would play. I hid. And he never came to find me. I never saw him again. He left us and my Mom blamed me."

And that's all she said.

After a moment I asked, I had to know, "but why were you naked when we played?"

She sat there for a minute or two, I could tell she was thinking hard.

Finally she looked me right in the eyes and said, "because that's how he liked me."

Oh my god. I just sat there, speechless staring at her. That poor sweet screwed up girl. This explained so many things. I wanted to hold her and protect her and tell her all was going to be fine. But I couldn't. That wouldn't be fair to anyone.

At that moment I saw the reflection of headlights flashing across the shop. Iris was here.

I had called Iris on the way home. I needed her help. When Iris came in Tracie became alarmed.

"What's she doing here?" She asked.

"Tracie," I said calmly and soothingly. "Iris is going to help."

"But, she's Marshall's niece . . . ." She trailed off.

"Tracie, don't worry," Iris said. "I hate my uncle. I will no longer work with him or my Mom. I'm here to help you." Iris explained.

I needed Iris to stay with Tracie while I did a few other things. I didn't want Tracie alone. After hearing her story I knew we had to get Tracie out of Central Oregon and she needed some professional help. I had a friend in the valley that was a mental health specialist that I would call tomorrow.

I had a plan developing. It was risky. I couldn't let anyone know anything I was doing. Well maybe just one other person.

Iris put Tracie to bed in the main bedroom and we talked. I explained the full story to Iris. By the time I was done she was furious with her uncle. I told her what I needed from her and she agreed. If all goes well in a day or two Iris would drive Tracy over to the valley.

I had asked Tracie about her phone. She looked for it, but said she must have misplaced it. She would do that from time to time , so I wasn't surprised. I searched her car and found it wedged under the drivers seat. I was going to need it.

The next morning before everyone was up, I had coffee with Preston. I put myself out on a limb having this discussion with Preston. There are times in life you need to trust people. This was one of those times for me.

I told him I would see him tomorrow night.

I called my friend in the valley that morning. I explained what Tracie had gone through and asked for his help. He gave me a name. After 3 or 4 more references, hours on the phone, much of it on hold, we found an in-patient treatment facility for Tracie. It was going to cost some money but there was no question this had to be done. And I was paying.

We made arrangements for Iris to drive her over to the valley the next morning. Iris said she had college friends there and made plans to stay a few days with them. Good.

With Tracie's phone I set the trap. Within an hour I got the reply I had hoped.

Mid afternoon I loaded my truck and drove to Preston's leaving my distinct red truck with my freshly decal-ed, "KC CUSTOM CARPENTRY" logo on it, right out in front of Preston's house.

We talked for a bit and then he handed me the keys to his old grey beat up Tacoma ranch truck. This vehicle was about as noticeable as a tumbleweed on the high desert. I grabbed my bag of stuff out of my rig and threw it in the Tacoma. With nervous anger I took off.

Dusk was settling in as I finished my 3/4 mile walk to the base of the bridge. I hadn't seen a soul. I was dressed in all black. I kept checking for cameras out here but it was too undeveloped yet. I was safe.

I crept down to that ledge underneath the bridge that Destry had built at the new house on Canyon. Carefully I climbed on to the framing, always staying on the near side of the frame. The far side was the problem and it was going to get worse.

My sawzall cut through the screws and some of the supports shifted a little. There were nervous moments but it held, barely. Now the framing from the far side of the bridge was just resting on the 4x6 joist. A good windstorm would collapse this bridge now. Then I attached the rope to the near end of the 4x6.

I crept back to the safety of the ledge and looked at my watch. 6:15 PM. I pulled out Tracie's phone checking messages, there was one from Marshall.

"ON MY WAY BABY CAN'T WAIT TO SEE YOU NAKED"

And then I looked at the previous message:

"6:30 AT THE CANYON HOUSE CU THEN"

And then the one I had sent before. I had studied how she would correspond to him so I could imitate how she might text him:

"Marsh, honey, my Mom is driving me crazy and I miss you. I was hoping we could play a game at the Canyon house. Can we meet there Friday night, I could probably be there between 6:30 and 7:00, 💋💋"

I then erased the text history. It was getting cooler and it was pitch black. No lights around but my eyes were getting used to the dark, adjusting. A few sounds but fairly quiet. I needed to grab some stones, just in case. I also grabbed a piece of pressure treated 2x4. I was set.

Now I waited.

It didn't take long. I heard the Suburban pull up. I could hear some old 90's rock song playing on the radio in his truck. I always hated that type of music. And then silence as he shut the vehicle off.

He whistled as he walked over the bridge. At the area I had worked on there was a slight shifting as he crossed this part, but it held. I saw a single light flash on in the house as he entered.

I thought about this house, it still wasn't done. Destry really was a crappy builder.

I looped the rope around. a small thick tree on the far side of my ledge. This will give me leverage when I yank it.

I got a buzz from Tracie's phone: "YOU STILL COMING". It was 6:55. I didn't reply.

7:10 "WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU". Marshall Pheasant does not like to be kept waiting.

A few minutes later the light goes off in the house and I hear the door slam. Showtime.

No whistling this time as he crosses the bridge. Halfway across just to be on the safe side I throw a handful of pebbles on the far side of the bridge. I saw him pause and turn at the noise. That distraction allows me to take up the slack in the rope without him seeing any movement.

I timed it perfectly. I steadily and firmly pulled the rope and the 4x6 plunges down the canyon. Now the long end of the bridge is resting on nothing and it begins to collapse and fall too.

As the long end of the bridge collapses into the canyon, remarkably Marshall leaps across the void and grabs the secure short side of the bridge. He's hanging.

"HELP HELP" he screams. And then he tries to pull himself up. Marshall at one time was a strong man, but he is heavier and not as strong as he once was. There is no way he can muscle himself up.

I decide to expedite things.

"Hello Marshall". I say.

"WHO IS IT. KEVIN? KEVIN YOU'VE GOT TO HELP. THE BRIDGE FELL, HELP ME GET UP!" He screams.

"Marshall, do you remember the last thing you said to me?" I ask.

"KEVIN FOR THE LOVE OF GOD I'M STARTING TO SLIP!" He is pleading.

"You told me, and I quote, swollen knuckles teach lessons." And with that I grabbed the 2x4 and taught him a lesson.

He was surprisingly silent as he fell to his death. My adrenaline was flowing but I felt absolutely no remorse.

With my IPhone flashlight I surveyed the ledge to make sure there wasn't any evidence left of my presence. I threw the 2x4 down the canyon.

Despite the coolness of the evening I was drenched in sweat. Within an hour I was back at Preston's. I didn't even go in, I threw my gear in my truck and took off.

——————————

The next few days were fairly uneventful. I spoke to Iris and Tracy was now at an in treatment facility called The Willows. She would be there at least 60 days. I was paying, and it wasn't cheap.

Preston and I met up Saturday morning and walked a bit of his property. We talked about life and then we moved on to the county ruling and the plans for when all that happened.

Finally after returning to his home he told me how he and I had 2 extra large pizza's Friday night delivered from Smoky Dean's in town. He gave the driver a $40 tip just to make sure he remembered us.

As the driver was leaving Preston asked him if they had bumped the fender of the red truck out front. The delivery guy and Preston examined it and realized there was no dent. Preston apologized for his accusation.

He should remember seeing my truck.

As I turned to go Preston asked, "So?"

I looked him in the eye, gave him a quick nod, then I turned and left. We never spoke about it again.

——————————

Monday morning, Angel and I are at the Reese's build on River Ridge. Mid morning we hear sirens and a lot of activity not too far from our job site. I have a pretty good idea what's going on, but I ignore it.

That night it's all over the news. INFLUENTIAL LOCAL BUILDER DIES IN CONSTRUCTION ACCIDENT. And then it goes on and on, horrific fall, unknown circumstances, tragic loss.

Iris calls and even though she grew to despise her uncle it was still her uncle. She said she was going to come back to Central Oregon.

There are some other calls from mutual acquaintances and I make the appropriate remarks, but for the most part I ignore all the noise. After all, Angel and I have a house to build.

About a week later mid morning a newer black sedan pulls up to our job site. Two men get out. One was from the CCB, the builders board, and one was from the district attorney's office. They wanted to talk to Angel.

Though they didn't want me there, I didn't leave Angel's side.

They were investigating the construction site where Marshall had died. They asked about the bridge specifically.

Angel told them he had nothing to do with that build. He told them he had even brought up some concerns to Terry Destry and was told to mind his own business. They did not seem 100% to believe Angel. I went to retrieve something from my truck.

It was a copy of the magazine featuring the house Angel and I built several years ago cantilevered over the dry creek bed. I showed them the article. This was an example of Angel's quality doing a similar type of project. I explained this to them. The Assistant DA remembered the article.

They then asked about Destry, Krump and Junior.

Angel gave them an honest opinion, and quite frankly he went easy on them. When I got a moment I chimed in with my observations on their poor quality. I was less diplomatic.

They went on to say that this could end up with these 3 being banned from building in Oregon and there was a chance manslaughter charges could be filed.

They thanked us and left.

Angel and I continued to make good progress on the Reese's house.

Late Friday and I'm outside on the saw and a grey club cab pickup pulls to the job site. 3 doors open and out step Terry Destry, Ed Krump and Junior Messersmith. Destry's leading the way.

"You got a big mouth Cotton," Destry says as he approaches me with the other two on his heels. He's coming at me hard. A quick glance shows me Angel is inside taking in the scene.

"I've just been telling the truth. Sometime the truth can hurt." I tell him. I know, not smart to piss him off, but I hate this fucker.

"Well we've been banned from building in this fucking state and we're heading back to Texas." He tells me.

"Before we go, there's a little bit of unfinished business me and the boys have with you. I figure you owe me. Never did get to fuck that little wife of yours." He said, Krump laughs.

I noticed Angel coming around the corner from the back of the house.

The three approached - I'd been in this spot before, at Maxine's. Just at that moment I see Angel throw a 25' Stanley Fat Max measuring tape at Junior. With a smack it hits him in the back of his hairless skull.

Junior wheels around stunned and enraged. Angel, agile and quick, closes the gap and lands a solid steel toed boot square in Junior's balls.

His eyes bulge, his mouth forms a silent O and he topples like a giant redwood. A modern David and Goliath situation.

Angel turns to Krump and and the squirrelly fucker takes off running, Angel goes after him.

As I'm watching Angel go after Krump Destry strikes first. A vicious overhand right that would have knocked me down if I hadn't tucked my chin in reflex. It still hurts. I'm stunned and he's trying to throw combos, left-right.

I'm covering up but the fucker is quick. A few punches get through. He keeps coming and I keep backpedaling. He thinks since I'm not hitting back he has the upper hand.

If anyone ever remembers Foreman and Ali, Rumble in the Jungle, Ali had a strategy. Let big old George Foreman throw a lot of punches and wear himself out. Ali came on in the late rounds to defeat the exhausted Foreman.

I certainly wasn't comparing myself to Ali, but I began to see Destry tire. Smoking is not great for your lungs. As he kept throwing punches his hands seemed to drop. So far, I had not thrown a punch.

All of a sudden sensing his exhaustion I threw a straight right that caught him smack on his left eye. It stunned him. He brought his hands up and I hit him square in the gut. Then 2 more punches to the head. He tried to grab me in a clinch, I stepped away and kicked him in the balls. Not as good a shot as Angel got Junior. But that's all it took. He was down in a fetal position.

I called the police but before they arrived Destry had crawled to the truck and taken off with Junior. I never saw Krump or either of those other 2 asshole's again.

As we walked off the job site I thanked Angel for saving me from Junior, looked at him and asked, "how would you like to be partners in a construction business?" He laughed and shook my hand.

——————————

EPILOGUE

Pheasant Construction collapsed after all that happened. Claudia asked if I wanted to buy it. I told her I didn't want anything to do with that business. No thank you.

We changed the name of our business to K & A CUSTOM CARPENTRY. Business is good, we picked up a few of the jobs that had previously been Pheasant projects.

Tracie is doing much better. She is living in the valley and has a boyfriend, I've met him a couple of times. His name is Claude Baron. He goes by Bear. A big bearded easy going guy. He's devoted to Tracie.

I know people ask why I'm not angry at Tracie for her betrayal. After sorting through the trauma of her childhood, more than anything I feel sorry for her, and protective. She feels almost like a kid sister to me now.

The county zoning went through and beside the construction business a lot of my time is spent with that. Preston has become my best friend.

And then there's Iris. We are close, we share a lot of interests. She does most of the design work for Angel and I. She designs for others and sometimes works hourly on our jobs.

It's kind of a weird relationship because of our history and my history with her family, but we are getting closer. We're taking it slow, but I can't imagine my life without her.

And I'm really looking forward to seeing her naked.

With that comment I'm slugged on the shoulder fairly hard, "owww, I forgot you were here while I told this story!" I say as she laughs.