Shaking Things Up, Down, Around

A fan, Loklie, suggested I write a story based on the song "E" by Matt Mason.

Please read my profile for my stance on feedback. Feel free to email suggestions or start a conversation. Private messages work too.

Kent Lavoie: "The sky was clean, and the trees were green, and the earth was a place of joy, when I was a boy."

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My name is Flint. I spend my days riding the fences. Boss Howard owns this eighty thousand acre spread. The western boundary is defined by Coal Creek. The creek only runs early in the spring. The southern border started out as straight as a church secretary, but due to about a dozen eminent domain seizures, it's about as straight as a Catholic priest. The eastern boarder follows Lemon Spring. Much like Coal Creek, it is dry, spare about six weeks in the spring. The northern border is still as straight as the day it was bought. If you look at the outline of the property, you'd think that this is a gerrymandered election district.

The terrain is rocky rolling hills. My job is to insure that the fences are intact and capable of imprisoning livestock. Every day I drive my truck and trailer, with Rosco, my paint horse, and head off to my stopping point from the day before. All told, Boss Howard still owns about one hundred twenty five square miles of nature. I've never measured it, but I think there's about fifty miles of fence line. It takes me a full week to examine the entire stretch, and then I do it again the next week. All I'm trying to do is minimize escaped livestock losses.

As I roam this massive spread, I count the herds. He owns cattle, sheep, and horses. When a dead animal is found, we try to decide what kind of predator was responsible.

I live in a modest house, high on the southwestern hills inside his spread. I can see the house from some of the other boundaries. My wife, Cheryl, is five months pregnant. We are expecting our first. We live in the house rent free, as part of my employment agreement. Cell phones are worthless out here, at least for making phone calls. We do have satellite internet service, so it's not like we are completely disconnected from society. If I'm within range of my own Wi-Fi, I can send texts and emails.

To get to my house, you have to make a really sharp left turn, and climb about five hundred feet. The road is switch backed four times to ease the climb.

The biggest thing that happens, on the ranch, is the annual rattlesnake roundup. We do that in March. While riding Rosco, I carry my rifle with me at all times, all year long. Nothing frightens a man or horse more than the Tc-Tc-Tc-Tc-Tc-Tc-Tc sound when you get too close to a rattler. I've come too damn close too many times. One bite pierced my left boot, but thankfully didn't break skin.

I grew up on a ranch. My parents were laborers. The pay was lousy but they loved working with the animals. When the opportunity surfaced for me to take over this job, I was on it in a flash. The only real downer is that Boss Howard's boys, Thad and Truman, are arrogant assholes. I'm twenty four and both of them are a few years older than me. Even though both of them are married, when I'm required to attend a ranch activity, they flirt inappropriately with Cheryl. She tries to be courteous, but more than once she's gotten in their face.

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It was late February when this all went down. Rosco and I were high on the northern hills. I knew I could see my house, and pulled out my binoculars. I saw a dust trail making its way inbound from the highway. We don't get many visitors, and none of the Howard clan ever comes out here. A fancier pickup truck started weaving its way up towards my house. The dust followed the truck to my front door. It was a man who exited the cab. After a minute, Cheryl opened the door. A few seconds later he was inside and the door closed. Who the hell is this? My gut wasn't liking this one bit.

Rosco hustled me back to my pickup. Mine is a 1981 F150. They seem to run forever with little maintenance. I disconnected the trailer, but left the door to it open. Rosco is so laid back that I didn't need to tie him up. It was fifteen minutes after that truck arrived before my motor was running. Ten minutes after that, I was parked behind the classy truck.

Opening my door, I got the shock of my life. Thad Howard was butt naked and ploughing into Cheryl. His clothes were tossed in a pile in the kitchen.

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?"

Thad hadn't realized I'd entered the house. I swear he jumped six inches off the ground. He took a step towards his clothes but I cut him off. He picked up a dining room chair and swung it hard at me. I didn't completely miss getting hit, but it didn't do much damage, other than slowing me down. He threw a few more chairs at me, burying me in furniture. Glancing at Cheryl, she appeared to be disoriented, as if drugged.

"You better run asshole. If your gas tank hits E before mine does, you are dead meat."

Sprinting towards the door, the naked asshole took my Tony Lama handmade rattlesnake boots. They are my dress boots. My pride and joy. My favorite wedding gift. Cheryl has a matching pair. This is war!

"You're a dead man Thad."

It didn't take Thad but a few seconds to pull the boots on. They were too big for him, but that's all he was wearing as he burst out my front door and dashed into his truck. When you live out in the country, you leave your keys in the ignition. Thad was headed down the maze before I reached my truck. Shit! I only have about a sixteenth of a tank left.

Thad was going too fast to make the sharp bend at the bottom of the hill. He spun out, giving me time to close the gap. Once his wheels stopped, he quickly spun dust and headed down the wrong road. I had him now. The only exit is the one he just missed. It's tough to make elusive maneuvers when you're kicking up dust along the way. I laid back hoping I wouldn't run out of gas first.

The terrain was getting rocky so Thad took a ninety degree left turn. I didn't want him doubling back, so I did the same. When he saw another opening, for a right turn, he took it. Dumb son of a bitch just turned up Rattlesnake Gulch. There would be no where he could turn around easily. He'd have to stop, and then make a very slow U-turn to get out.

What Thad had to worry about, were some of the ruts in the road. These roads are not meant to be driven at more than ten miles per hour. He was doing forty, while I was doing half of that. He might have thought he was pulling away, but it didn't matter. He had boxed himself in.

My adrenaline was flowing. Could I really shoot a man? I've killed coyotes, rattlers, and fox, but this was weighing hard on my soul.

When the dust settled, in front of me, I knew something had changed. Everyone carries rifles, and sometimes pistols, in their trucks. I might be in his sites so I approached slowly. Thad had lost control and overturned his truck. The driver's door was pinned to the tumbleweeds. I was about fifty yards away when I stopped.

Grabbing my rifle, I stepped out of my truck. Not only did I leave the door open, I hid behind it. In a flash, I focused my rifle site on the capsized truck. Was he gone already? Was he dead? I nervously looked around. Fifty feet away was a curled up rattler. I wasn't close enough to scare the snake, so his rattles were quiet. There's never a single rattler. If you find one, you better be on the lookout for another.

Five minutes went by before the passenger door pushed skyward. With no guns in his hands, Thad pulled himself into the open. He slid down, wearing only my fucking boots. I fired a shot skyward. Thad dropped to the ground.

"DON'T SHOOT!"

I shot skyward again. I wanted him to suffer before I killed him.

"What do you want? I can get it for you. You name it, just don't kill me. Please!"

"Get up. Start walking towards me."

Slowing pushing himself up, Thad looked anxiously towards me. My scope had the crosshairs placed directly on his heart. I couldn't do it.

He took a few steps towards me before we both heard it, Tc-Tc-Tc-Tc-Tc-Tc-Tc. First to the left of him, and then Tc-Tc-Tc-Tc-Tc-Tc-Tc to the right. Just like barking dogs, once you scare one, the others become alarmed too. There were so many rattlers poised to strike, the noise was frightening. Even the one fifty feet from me was shaking his warning. I quickly looked around to make sure it wasn't me they were interested in.

"Flint, kill them. Kill the fucking snakes."

"Are you asking me to kill you, you slimy snake?"

"No, the rattlers, kill the rattlers."

"No can do Thad. I'm going to stir them up and let's see how long a defenseless cowboy lasts."

"Please Flint. I'll do anything for you. Kill the snakes."

I aimed my rifle towards the bush a foot in front of one of the snakes. When my rifle fired, it hit the ground directly in front of that bush. Thad flinched hard, and the startled snake struck at him. Although the snake missed, Thad panicked and started running. Bad move. First one, then another snake found flesh. Even if I wanted to save Thad now, I couldn't. One snake bite can kill you, if you don't get treatment quickly. Forget it if a second rattler nails you.

To make matters worse, Thad staggered before falling. This brought a third snake into play, and Thad now sported three deadly bites. Thad was groaning and begging, but I didn't care. You don't fuck another man's wife. Now I had to deal with Cheryl.

I put my gun away, then did a slow U-turn. I was home in fifteen minutes.

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Cheryl was now sitting naked on the bed. She was seriously impaired.

"Heeeyyy Flint. I uh, I uh, I uh. You were just naked."

She was stoned or drunk or drugged. As I was trying to get Cheryl dressed, I noticed the tripod. That asshole was making a video of the whole thing with his phone. I pulled the phone from the tripod and stuffed it into my pocket.

Cheryl didn't have any understanding of what was happening. Knowing Thad was dead didn't seem to temper how furious I was. My concern now was my wife and unborn child. After drunk walking Cheryl to my pickup truck, we were off to the hospital.

Only after Cheryl was admitted, did I call the sheriff. The story I told was that I found Thad assaulting Cheryl and a chase ensued. When Thad ditched me, I returned to find Cheryl drugged. It didn't take long for the deputies to arrive at the hospital.

I turned over the phone, telling them that I think he was making a video of his sexual escapades.

Confirming what we all expected, the medical staff informed the deputies and myself, that Cheryl had been drugged. Until they could ascertain the drug, they wouldn't make any guesses as to the future of my child. I wanted to hit something.

Sitting in the waiting room, with a deputy, his walkie-talkie kept us informed when the body of Thad Howard was found. Poisoned by rattlesnakes. I'm sure the deputy took note of my ear to ear grin when I heard that.

Less than an hour later, an ambulance delivered Thad to the same hospital. Boss Howard and his family arrived a short time later. There was nothing they could do for Thad.

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Epilogue:

Cheryl recovered, and has no recollection of the assault. She was very frightened that I would divorce her, but I honestly felt she was a victim. We are stronger now than we've ever been.

The deputies seemed in a hurry to close the case. I really regretted handing that phone over. All attempts to get a copy of the video were stonewalled. The deputy that I'd handed the phone to, now claims he knows nothing about a phone. Seems like money talks.

The lawyers I'd talked to weren't interested in taking on Boss Howard, or his son's estate.

The drug cocktail, used by Thad, didn't appear to have any impact my unborn child. Seth was born on time and appears to be healthy as can be.

Since Thad was dead, nothing became of Cheryl's assault. Boss Howard and Truman turned a cold shoulder to me, so Cheryl and I packed up and left. Bad move for them. With fifty miles of fence line, it's really tough to stop vandals from cutting open sections. My friends from high school like to drink and get rowdy. Almost every week sections of fence are cut open. There's been a lot of livestock, with the Howard brand obliterated, changing hands.

I never did get my boots back, nor do I want them since a man died in them. It still pisses me off though.