Desolation

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DESOLATION

CHAPTER FOURTEEN to TWENTY

by fireflywatcher- Phil Ford

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Friday was a strange day for everyone in Desolation this week. Ellen Miller was feeling a little better. The doctor was baffled and only asked her to get some tests done. She had been useless for nearly a week, with her husband waiting on her and eating his poor cooking. He hadn't made it to go fishing since she fell ill. She was getting testy with him under foot and that was a sure sign she was getting better. She wanted to call her friends and hear the newest gossip, but she damn well wouldn't do it with him listening in. She was sitting up in bed now, but it was time to get up and dress. She pulled the covers back and eased her feet to the floor. Her feet found her slippers exactly where she always put them and she slid into them.

An old woman shouldn't try this alone, she thought, after being tended to and lying in bed a week anyway. She placed her palms against the bed and built her courage, then lifted herself up. Lying in bed had left her stiff and bent over at the shoulders. She straightened herself and with measured steps made her way to the bathroom. Her dressing gown hung on the back of the door. Lifting it from the hook, she ran each arm into its sleeve and tied the belt at her waist.

The mirror gave her a fright. She hadn't tended to her face and the wrinkles were more pronounced. Her hair was a rat's nest. Turning the faucet she let the water run until it was warm, and then she soaked a washcloth in the water and pressed it to her face. In a short while her face was clean and then finished with a dab of cream. Her hair took a little more work but it in turn was back as she kept it.

In the kitchen Bill was washing up the morning dishes. His big hands wouldn't reach into the glasses for a good scrubbing. His large belly pressed deep against the counter and his head was bent over. The window above the sink was open and with each flutter of the breeze the curtain struck the top of his head. He would be finished in a heartbeat, so he bent to avoid the curtain instead of closing the window. He knew he'd better get them clean and not break anything or 'The General' would chew on his butt.

Ellen leaned against the doorframe and watched as he put the last dish in the drainer. As he pulled the strainer from the sink to release the water, the curtain smacked him in the face one last time. Ellen let out a little laugh. He turned with a look of shock on his face which changed immediately to a wide smile. "I must look pretty silly in this getup." He was wearing Ellen's kitchen apron. "Honey, I'm so glad you're feeling better. You look like your old self this morning." To him, her unkempt appearance was a part of being sick, not a lack of attention to grooming. She always rose before him in the morning and he never saw her until after she had cleaned up and fixed her hair.

"I'm not a hundred percent, but I'll get by. You need to give me some peace for a while and go into town for groceries. It's been days since you've been out of the house." With that said she took her spot at the kitchen table and had a cup of coffee.

Bill gave her a peck on the cheek and left for town. Ellen bathed and dressed. She called a few friends to announce her recovery and got comfortable watching her soaps after that. When Bill got back, she was asleep in her chair. He just sat and watched her sleep. It was peaceful.

Bob was resting on a bench in his barn. He'd made calls early about Martin's money and still didn't know what to do with it. He kept it separate from his own money, which he didn't really control anyway. He did manage to get the lawyers to add an equal amount to Martin's money and set it up in a new account. His chores only took an hour this morning. Bob had gone through the garden in the cool of the early morning, picking some of the produce that was ready. There was more to pick in his garden, but everything would hold for another day. Making adobe bricks calmed him. He set to work making new batches when the chores were finished. His mix was a little different from what Martin had taught him. He had made a pit in the creek bed where the sand and gravel matched the mix he needed. Martin had used a tiller, but Bob used a quarter yard concrete mixer. He replaced the straw with fiberglass he could buy in bales; it just took some long gloves to keep the itchy fibers off his skin. Just for a binder, he added Portland cement to the mix.

Into the 2x4 frames Bob poured the mix until the batch was done. It made nice smooth strong bricks. He cured them in the sun and turned them and finally stacked them on pallets he put in one of the unused barns. Over the years he had made a lot of adobes but like Martin's money they had no planned use right now. Several barns and buildings had been empty and idle all his life. He kept the exteriors in good repair to preserve them, but that took time. He stayed busy just to fill his days.

Bob stopped and ate his lunch early, before eleven in the morning. In the rising heat he was tempted to stay indoors the rest of the day. He washed his plate, dried it, and put it away, trying to think of something to do. He had more vegetables in his freezers than he could use during the next year. A small garden could have met his needs and left enough to share with Maria and Charlie. His garden was huge. He decided to give away what he had picked from the morning and the previous day. He loaded it into his truck and drove into Desolation.

The rectory sat beside the church. He'd gone since childhood with Maria, been baptized and confirmed, but his attendance at Mass was irradic.The old priest was a cranky old man and very impatient. His accent was so thick, he was hard to understand. The new young priest seemed different. As Bob pulled up next to the church, he sat on the porch with his guitar dressed more like a local kid than a priest. Bob approached with a box in his hands and nodded at the man as a greeting.

"More veggies for the food bank?" the priest asked. He met Bob near the pickup and was impressed by the quantity he saw. They both made several trips into the church hall where several ladies were assembling packages to hand out, and left the boxes. Returning to the porch, the priest asked, "Would you join me in a beer, Mr. Esterhazy?

"Sure, father," Bob replied. "It's just Bob, though."

"All right then, if you'll call me Clavo. I'm just called father when I'm saying Mass." Clavo returned popping the cap off the longneck bottle and handed one to Bob. He took a large gulp and picked up his guitar, playing where he'd left off when Bob arrived.

"Thanks for the beer," Bob told him. Bob sipped slowly. At first he watched Clavo's fingers, never moving his glance away from them. He played in a different style than Bob had seen on television and Bob had never seen someone playing right in front of him. With the old priest, all the church music came from an old organ and Bob hadn't attended a service since Clavo arrived.Then Bob looked up into Clavo's eyes. Bob was done in by a glance.

Clavo's fingers moved across the strings on automatic. He'd been captured by Bob's eyes at the same instant. Clavo knew what it was. He didn't think Bob did. He adjusted his position on the bench slightly. It would be embarrassing if something grew out of the leg of his shorts. "I keep the air conditioner off as much as I can, in the rectory," Clavo told him. "I'm used to the heat. Saving a few bucks here and there leaves more I can share with the poor." Saying that hadn't distracted Clavo from his thoughts.

"You play beautifully," Bob stated, "It's not too bad here in the shade of the porch with something cold to drink and your playing to listen to." Bob continued to sit there and listen. Clavo added his voice to the guitar. First he sang 'Ten Thousand Miles From Nowhere' by Dwight Yoakum. Martin listened to country and he loved Yoakum. Clave mixed it up and sang songs covering the whole range of popular music. Some songs were new and they'd been playing on the little local radio station over the last few weeks. It played everything. Bob rolled down the pickup windows and cranked it up near where he was working every day. He hadn't picked any favorites. He knew of Yoakum and a few other country artists through Martin and some Spanish and Mexican artists through Maria. Charlie loved the delta blues and the old Motown sound. When Bob gave it a chance, he found some good in everything.

After a few songs, Clavo set the guitar down. He turned up his bottle and swallowed the final drops. Pointing to Bob's beer and getting a nod, he went inside for two more. Bob drained his in Clavo's absence. He had several large gulps to swallow and it was getting warm.

"I'll have to come see this garden of yours," Clavo said, coming back. Maria said it was a nice one."

"Some company would be nice for once," Bob answered. "My dog ain't much for conversation."

"I'll make a point of it. I say Mass Friday evenings, Saturdays and Sundays, but I'm free most of the week. I have been doing a morning Mass here. Usually no one shows up. All the churches are small," Clavo explained. "I do more driving from church to church than anything else."

The ladies started carrying boxes to their cars which put a halt to their conversation. Apparently they took the food packages to the various churches Clavo served. "What time do you leave today?" Bob asked.

"Not until five. I get cleaned up and dressed about four, but that's a while off." Clavo didn't want Bob to leave yet. When he noticed Bob wringing his hands, Clavo saw the inevitable coming. It must be a nervous habit, he thought. When they shook hands before parting, something magical was definitely passing between the two.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Patti hung up the phone. The plumbing supply had called to say her dryer parts had just come in. Fridays were always busy days. Aside from running the office, she had to run the counter, take in payments and receipts, and handle all the phone calls. People had money on Fridays. The business was closed on weekends and they could drive to town if they needed something that bad. On Thursdays she did payroll and made the deposit for the previous week, doing her own banking at the same time. It was just bad timing for the parts to come in now. She wrote out a check for the amount and hurried out to the shop area to find Tim. It was almost three and he might save her a trip to town.

Tim was sitting on a pallet of feed sacks near the back door. He got off in just a few minutes and was avoiding any task that might tie him up at the last second. He drove the trucks delivering feed, fuel, and spreading fertilizer among other things. His hours were different than the other employees. They all worked eight to six. He worked seven to three, but always got the hours in from leaving late some days during the week. He opened up the building every morning, saw the early customers who came by before their own work, and got his own tasks ready to begin. Patti caught him just in time. His extra shirt and coffee mug were already in his hand.

"I've got a check here if you'll pick up the dryer parts while you're in town. They just came in." She said it in a way that was more of a telling than an asking even though he was doing her a favor. She would be paying him for the work after all. It was just her way here at work. She was accustomed to giving instructions and having them followed.

"Sure thing Patti, but I'll have to run by your house for the old parts to make sure they match." He had been there again to take them off after the parts were ordered. They sat in a box on top of the dryer.

"You know I leave the door unlocked. You better knock first though; Laura is off today and may be at home." Miss Sally always gave the help either Friday or Saturday off just to keep them happy. The Gas'n'Go was busiest those days, but she had extra help to fill in.

Tim put the check in his wallet and headed out the door. At Patti's, Laura was on the porch watering some plants as he drove up. She was dressed a little friskier than she dressed for work. After over a week in Desolation, she was getting comfortable being there. Tim noticed the change in her and it was a good change. "I came for the old parts. I'm going into town for shopping and the bank anyway."

Laura went in and returned with the box and her purse in hand. "Can I ride along? Sally cashes my check, but I don't know my way around in town yet. I'd love to get out of here for a little while." Two suitcases hadn't held much and she really needed to do some shopping.

"Come on then, I always go with a friend of mine, but three will fit in the truck." He was sure Dan wouldn't mind some extra company. He usually kept his men friends and women friends separated; it kept bad situations from happening. He had just met Laura though; she was an exception for now. At Dan's, he was sitting on the front porch with a beer in his hand. Today he was not dressed up, just clean and wearing shorts with a tank top. Hot weather had set in to stay.

They both got out and walked up to the house. Tim introduced Laura and went straight for the fridge, bringing back three beers. He handed one to Dan, but asked Laura if she wanted one. She took hers; he popped his open and took a long deep drink. "Man that tastes good! I've been waiting for a cold one all day long."

"I've seen you at the store." Dan asked all the usual questions and then Laura gave the short simple story in answer. She hoped he wouldn't mind her tagging along but needed to learn her way around in town. Of course it was fine with Dan; new friends were rare in Desolation, especially women friends. She was attractive enough, but Dan didn't even consider the possibility of her having any interest in him. He gave up having thoughts like that long ago. Grabbing a six pack, they all climbed into Dan's truck for the short ride, stopping by Tim's for him to change out of his work clothes. He was back in the truck in a flash and they were on the road.

The trip to town was uneventful, bank, Wal-Mart this time, grocery store, and beer store last. Laura bought a few things and looked around even more. She asked about each restaurant they passed and was told about a few they didn't while getting points in the right direction. Nearing Desolation on the way back, they stopped at the lake. They went to the sandy beach, not the fishing spots. Those were Dan and Tim's private domain; they didn't share or swap spots with each other either. All the cold food was in a cooler to keep it from spoiling, so they kicked back there a while and drank a few more beers. Laura had bought some for herself and wine coolers for Aunt Patti. No kids were around this evening. They had the lake to themselves.

It was nearly seven now and had cooled off a lot. The breeze coming across the lake made it very comfortable. They sat on the tailgate with the sun to their backs and the lake in front of them. It could have been a better spot with a sunset view across the water, but there wouldn't have been a beach or sand to go with it. Laura led the way down to the water. She kicked off her shoes and went in knee deep. It was perfect bath water temperature and the urge was irresistible. All three were in shorts. Following her lead they waded in past waist deep, beer in hand.

Other than a little splashing there was no serious getting wet, no swim across the little lake. It was an ice breaker. They went in and out a few times for another beer and did a lot of talking on every subject in life. Finally as sunset began they retreated to the tailgate to dry out. Mutual friendships had begun.

Laura got out at Patti's house with her shopping. Tim only stayed briefly at Dan's before going home with his groceries, all in two small bags, and two cases of beer. Dan was left alone. Brian did visit later to ask if he could mow again, but mostly to bum a beer. Friday night was no time to be bored for a kid. He drug Dan back to the den to play pool with him and livened things up a lot with his humor. Brian and Dan got into some horseplay and a tickle fight ending with Brian sitting on Dan's chest. Dog was running around in circles playing doggie tag and barking at both of them. Even old dogs and grown men need to play like a kid sometimes.

Four men in Desolation spent their evening thinking about other men. Clavo dealt with his frustration in the shower before leaving to do his work and again when he came home. Bob did nothing. Dan watched the door, hoping Tim would come back. Tim thought being away from his buddy was the right thing to do, but wished he didn't need to because that was where he wanted to be.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Dean was still steaming. Too much of his money disappeared into his pipe. He was out of business and his customers were tired of his lame excuses. No matter how he tried or what con he pulled no one would front him any cash to make a buy. His friend was pressing hard for him to find a place and move out. It was payday again and half his cash was in the rocks in his pocket. He knew that come next Friday he would do the same thing again.

Dean had to find that bitch, or at least her couch. He got out the phone book and began calling numbers with her last name. There were about fifty listings with her last name. This might take a while. "Hello, I'm trying to get in touch with Laura." Sometimes he added a name. Sometimes there was no answer. Each number that gave a negative response he marked through with a pen.

He loaded his pipe with another chunk and put the flame to it. Each time he hit it, he had to put it away again incase someone came in. There was a computer in one corner and he was on the computer line. No one would know he was calling. He returned to his list and began calling again. Ten more were left on the list and twelve hadn't answered. It wasn't looking good. Maybe her mom had remarried. Maybe the number wasn't listed. Maybe they weren't in this phone book, but one for Ft. Worth or another city.

He needed the pipe again. He would have needed it anyway. An excuse made him feel better. He took a long break from his search this time. A few more hits were taken. He popped open a beer, but had already had two. He stepped outside to piss behind the house and noticed no cars were there, everyone was gone. The sun was still up. Inside with no windows and repeated hits on the pipe he had lost track of time. With a jolt, reality hit him. He'd better call all the numbers soon. People get pissed if you phone late at night and pissed off people don't tell you anything.

He went right back to calling. The third number was a winner. "Yes, I'm Tommy a friend of Laura's. I haven't seen her lately. She gave me this number a while back. I was worried that something might be wrong." No she moved to west Texas to her aunt's house a few weeks ago. She wouldn't be back for a while. He couldn't get a phone number or the name of the town, but it was progress. He had her parent's address now, too.

Dean was on a roll. He got his Mapsco from the truck and looked up the address. It was a twenty minute drive. He put everything away and left to investigate. When he found the house, he circled the block three times. Laura's wrecked car sat inside the closed garage. Her couch was in there, too. This hadn't occurred to Dean yet because the couch sat out of his view blocked by the wreck. He wasn't going to knock on the door, which was surely a bad idea. The next pass, he turned down the alley in back. A privacy fence surrounded the yard and there was nothing to see at the back. The trash cans were there though. He stopped and threw the bags in the back of his truck and headed back.

Back at his temporary room, Dean spread out the contents of the trash bags on top of newspaper in front of him. He had the big can from the alley pulled inside the room. The pipe got half his time and sorting garbage got the other half. He had planned to do other things tonight, but they would wait. Soon everything was in the big can except a small pile of papers and envelopes. He wadded up the newspapers and added them to the can as well, pulling all of it back outside where it belonged. He washed his hands clean with the hose on the side of the house.

After a few more hits on the pipe, he began reading the papers and envelopes. An old phone bill was in the pile. After checking the phone book, only one number on the bill was in West Texas. He dialed the number and a woman answered. "Is Laura there? Okay, thanks," and hung up. Bingo, it was Desolation.

Tim sat at home alone the rest of Friday evening. He could have visited friends or gone somewhere but that wasn't the point. It might be a game he was playing with Dan. He really wanted to be there with him. Hell, even his TV didn't work very well and there wasn't much food in the house except what he had just bought and it was mostly junk food that wouldn't make a meal and only some beer besides that. If he was with Dan all the time, he thought Dan would never get out or do anything by himself, so he had to come home. He never asked Dan what he did when they were apart and Dan never asked him. By ten he was asleep on the couch.

The seat of Tim's couch sloped to the back. No matter how he turned, he ended up with the seat to one side of him and the back to the other, cradling him in the space. He woke up at eleven fifteen and Laura hadn't come. He popped open a beer and waited until midnight but she never showed. He hopped in his truck and drove back to Dan's. The door was unlocked. He found Dan asleep in bed, shed his clothes, and crawled in beside him. Tim was fooling himself thinking Dan would do something if he wasn't around.

Tim spooned up against Dan. They were almost to the edge on Dan's side of the bed. He nuzzled Dan's neck taking in his scent and snaked a hand down to find a rapidly hardening rod below. Tim knew better than to think Dan was a heavy sleeper. He scooted closed pressing his hard dick into the crease between Dan's cheeks and held on tight to Dan's hard tool. He liked the feel of it. He planted a kiss just below Dan's ear.

Dan didn't say a word. He reached to the night table and grabbed something. Feeling below to Tim's hand, he put the jar in his grasp. Tim brought the Vaseline up and over Dan's body. He pulled the lid off, pressed some into the puckered hole and stroked more on his pole. With the lid back on. He tossed the jar behind him and grasped Dan's pole with enough of the greasy stuff still on his fingers to make jerking him easy. He angled his hips and the crease guided him into place. Slowly his dick sank to a familiar spot deep inside. Tim worked his left arm under and around Dan's chest and they began to writhe together, meeting fully, then separating, lying on their sides. Dan turned slightly, just enough to grab Tim's head and bring their lips together, and they locked in a kiss.

"I missed you before you got out of the driveway," Dan told him when the broke the kiss.

"I'm sorry I left," Tim confessed.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Johnny Mac woke up early. His head was pounding. He was buck naked. Half of his weed was gone along with nearly three cases of beer. Both boys were still asleep and naked, too. Worst of all, Johnny Ray had no memory of the previous night or how he ended up naked. He dressed, grabbed his beer and weed, and drove home without waking the boys or asking any questions. In his own room, he took eight ibuprofen and went back to sleep.

Dan and Brian were watching the Saturday morning cartoons. Dan's yard was neatly mowed. Tim wasn't home when Dan went by his house, so he came back home. Tim would show up eventually. Dan had fried a batch of potatoes and Brian's attention was focused on the plate in front of him. At his age, his appetite could never be satisfied. He had a huge pile of catsup on one side. He tried to scoop as much of it as possible onto each piece of potato. Neither one was interested in the cartoons. They were the only thing on TV. Beer washed down the potatoes. Dan offered Brian a coke, but his reply was "Come on man; give me a damn beer, please."

Tim was just finishing the repairs to the dryer. Patti and Laura were watching as if they were nurses in an operating room, waiting for the next request. It was a small work space. Tim felt a little crowded. He put in the last screw, flipped the dryer back over, and plugged it in. Then he slid it into place, making sure the vent hose didn't get kinked. "Okay, push the button and see if it works." Tim backed away and gathered up the tools.

Patti turned it on and waited a few minutes. When she opened the door it was warm inside. "You're a life saver, Tim. I'm sick of stiff wrinkled clothes and the ironing." They had smelled better drying on the line, but dryer sheets were cheap. Patti reached into her purse and handed Tim some money. Even though he protested, she insisted. It was about half what she would have paid the repairman from town, she had checked.

Tim told Laura about his usual Saturday fishing with Dan and asked if she wanted to come along. He had extra poles and another chair, but told her "NO swimming where you fish, it scares them off." He said they were normally home before two and she accepted the invitation.

At Dan's, Brian begged to go along, too. There were only two strainers, so Dan and Tim had to allow others to fish close to their spots. Miss Sally took the weekend off herself this time. The girl at the counter let Laura get the minnows and do the count. They only got an extra dozen because it was already late in the morning. Brian rode in the back. He fished near Dan and Laura found a spot near Tim. Maybe it was the extra action of four lines being cast or the increase in the heat of the days, but by noon all the minnows were gone and twenty three fish were on the stringers. They moved to the beach after everything was loaded.

It wasn't deserted this morning. Laura had come prepared in spite of Tim's warning. She pulled off her t-shirt and shorts to reveal a bikini underneath. She looked damn good. The other group was made up of teenagers from Brian's age to twenty, both boys and girls. Laura wasn't much older herself. As a new face in town, she attracted a lot of attention.

Dan was busy getting the fish stringer tied up when he noticed Laura and Tim going into the water. Brian had joined the other group. He thought the beer in his hand would impress them, but some of them were drinking, too. It was no big deal. A girl Brian's age had sat beside him at the movies the previous week. He hadn't gone on a date yet. They were at the same place at the same time and joined each other with several friends. Now Brian had a chance to get better acquainted with her. Dan could see Brian's grin from the tailgate of the truck.

Tim and Laura swam out into deeper water. He held her around the waist with her head leaning against his chest while he treaded water. She lay there peaceful and still, enjoying the swim but Tim felt her heart racing. It was the first time they had touched. Laura got a feeling of trust from Tim. He held her above the water as the small waves rose and fell moving them like the bobbers on their fishing lines had done. He could have released his grip or faltered in his treading allowing her to sink below the surface, but he remained a steady support. His treading gradually moved carrying them both toward the shallower water. When his feet found the sandy bottom, he lifted her to him and gave her a kiss. Then he grasped her hand and they both walked into shore.

Dan was sitting in the water, leaning back letting the waves splash against his chest. Laura took a spot beside him while Tim went for more beer at the truck. "Just a coke for me now Tim, I have to work in a little while." Tim followed her wishes. They had brought some along with Brian in mind, but she was the first to ask for one.

The fish were splashing a lot tied on the stringer. It could have been a turtle or just being crowded together. Looking in their direction Dan said "We should have a fish fry tomorrow and add the ones in my freezer." He had a gas fryer like the ones used for fried turkeys on Thanksgiving. It kept the smells and the heat out of the house. Laura loved the idea. She offered to make extras like potato salad and coleslaw if they came to Aunt Patti's to do it. It was agreed, then.

Brian decided to get a ride home with the others his age, and stay at the lake for a while. When Dan told him about the fish fry plans all he said was "cool." In just over a week the colors had begun to change from green to the golden hues of summer. The grasshoppers were flying in clouds; their movement was in every direction you could see. Some of the grain fields had already been combined and in those still standing, the grain rippled in waves like the water at the lake. Laura laughed and joked on the drive home. Her mood was changed from what it had been only hours before, and it was contagious. When they were getting her things from the bed of the truck, she hinted to Tim that she might drop by to see him when she got off work.

Dan got the fish in his old wash tub right off the bat. The tub hardly had any room for water. These fish were bigger than the ones they caught the week before. In no time at all, they had them cleaned and filleted. They washed the fillets and salted them down, covering the cleaned fish with ice water and sticking them in the fridge. Three more containers of fillets frozen in water came down from the freezer to join the fresh catch. It would be a hell of a fish fry.

It might seem odd to love fishing in such dry country. Livestock needs water to drink. All the pastures were dotted with stock tanks, dug out over the years in any spot that held the hope of trapping a little rain water. In a lot of areas wells drilled only gave alkaline or salt water and only rain water was fresh and drinkable. Some stock tanks were stocked with fry, others were stocked by the blue herons that fished and flew from pond to pond. They are smart birds. You could even say they are fish farmers. When they do a little hunting in a pond and come up empty handed, they come back and drop some fish in it. This bird plans for the future. They aren't pretty birds. Some say they resemble a pterodactyl, but they are damn good fish hunters and farmers. When people first began to dig out stock tanks, they wondered where the fish they found in them later had come from. It didn't take long to answer the question. They fly above the pond and drop the fish into the water. At first they probably caught their prey in rivers and creeks, but ponds were made for their needs; a perfect match. In West Texas, people may get pissed off if you hunt on their land, but as long as you shut the gates going in and out fishing is usually open to anyone who cares to do it. Aside from lakes, most people have favorite stock tanks.

The frozen fish would take all night to thaw out sitting on the cabinet. The fresh fish sat in the fridge letting the salt water draw out any muddy taste the fish had taken on during its life in the lake. Milk worked better, but sometimes simpler is the best. Dan and Tim got all the gear put away and it was time for another regular after fishing event, they took a nap. However you look at it, the Mexican tradition of a siesta just works well in West Texas. After his shower, at home from work, sometimes Dan napped, too. It helped get the heat out of his body built up from a day in the hot sun.

When Laura pulled in at the Gas'n'Go, Miss Sally was checking on things. Laura was still bubbling from her morning adventure. She invited Sally to the fish fry and talked about Dan and Tim. It was the first real fun she had had in a long time and it showed. The mood was contagious for Sally, too. She started telling stories about Dan and Tim as kids, with all the pranks kids get into. Sure, she would come. They promised her fish every time they bought minnows and she wouldn't have to clean or cook these. Miss Sally made up her mind to get the bait man to come with her; it was his bait that caught the fish after all. It would be a beginning of summer party.

Patti had liked the idea of a fish fry, too. She didn't have much company herself. Tim and Laura getting along pleased her to no end. He was a good guy, not like the guys her sister talked about who dated Laura in the past. Maybe this hadn't been a date, but it was a friendship beginning. Patti was fired up. She spent the whole evening cooking.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Lying in bed, Johnny Mac's head had finally stopped pounding. It was four in the afternoon. He woke up five times before only to take more pills and pull the covers back over his head. Even now the light hurt behind his eyes. For him, alcohol was a beautiful witch that enchanted in the beginning and left ugly and vengeful the next day. As the two boys knew, it had released all his hidden demons but Johnny Mac had no memory of that.

Food was out of the question. He had staggered out his door and heaved in the back yard five times since coming home. It probably would have done him some good but just the thought made him feel sick again. He went straight to the shower. It was more than a washing of the body, it was a cleansing of the spirit, a new baptism. The poison that had poured from his pores and the filth of the previous night washed down the drain in unison. As he combed his hair and looked in the mirror, what he felt was love. More than anything else, Johnny Mac loved his own body and himself, but he didn't realize that yet.

Clean and fresh, he was feeling better now. The hair of the dog would fix anything still out of kilter. No one else was home. All his beer was in the truck and hot. He looked in the fridge and his dad had a few, so he took a cold one. His thirst was unquenchable. In three gulps he drained the can. That witch was calling to him again now and he was listening. Dad wouldn't miss two cans, so he took another. Some burgers were in a bag next to the beer and his stomach felt much better after a beer. He ate one cold. It was time to find out what had happened the night before, now.

He dressed, grabbed an ice chest and started down the road. There was Laura at the gas and go as he got ice. She was in a good mood. She invited him to the fish fry. No time for conversation right now, he gave her his million dollar smile and said "Got to jet, I'm partying with my buds tonight." He pointed the truck in the direction of the cabin and rolled down the road.

Johnny stopped halfway to the cabin. The ice must have gotten a beer cold by now. He was still confused. How in hell had three guys drank three cases and smoked that much weed in one night and most of all, why did he wake up naked? Coming in the door both boys were still asleep and still naked. Johnny Mac scooted Gary's legs over on the couch and sat down. He pulled out his sack and rolled a fat one. No little bong hits would do right now, he needed to get seriously stoned. After it burned nearly halfway down, both guys peeked up at him as if he had never left the place.

"Put some damn clothes on, man, I don't want to look at your hairy ass" He yelled at them and handed the joint to Gary lying next to him. Gary drew his legs from behind Johnny's back and moved to hand the joint to Donnie. He pulled his gym shorts up and sat back down. Donnie did the same pulling on some cut offs with the joint in his mouth and handed it to Johnny. He took a spot on the couch, too. It was dead silent in the dark room except for the sound made toking on the joint Even Donnie and Gary looked the same sitting in the shadows.

"How did we drink all that beer and smoke that much weed in one night?" Johnny still couldn't figure it out, but the boys stayed silent. "All of us naked, too," he added sounding like a question. The boys weren't sure he remembered, but it sounded like he did.

"It was my fault. I put in that damn porno," Gary spoke up.

"You scared the shit out of us, Johnny Mac. We ain't no queers. You made us suck your dick and fucked us in the ass, it just ain't right." Donnie thought putting it short and sweet was enough said, but the truth was they'd done it before and all got pleasure from the sex but wouldn't admit it.

Johnny went silent now. He was pissed off. He didn't know if he should get up and leave or what to say. He just had no memory of what had happened. Johnny got another beer.

"We won't tell anybody, Johnny Mac." Donnie could see he was mad again and hear it in the way he popped open the beer.

"We don't like that shit and never wanted to do it either, but it wasn't so bad after a while. It's not my thing, but I won't say anything," Gary threw in.

Then it was back to silence again for a while. Johnny Mac started to cool off; in fact he lightened up a lot. They weren't queer and he wasn't queer. On top of it all they blamed themselves and more or less apologized. What Johnny Mac felt now was power, power to make them do as he pleased and maybe even enjoy doing it. He rolled another joint and handed each of them a beer. It was time to go outside for a while now, they followed. All of this had to settle in a bit. He knew that if it happened again, he wanted to remember it and decide what he thought about it then.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Miss Sally called Patti as soon as she got home. Patti was cooking and told her everything she was fixing. It was fine for her to bring a friend; it was to be a fun day of food and friends. Patti thought Laura needed it to feel welcome in Desolation. They talked a while. She realized that no deserts or sweets were on the list and told Patti she would bring those things to the meal.

When she hung up, she began to look around in her kitchen. She mostly ate at the store and there were only a few things on hand. Bananas were on the counter from her shopping earlier in the week. It would be banana pudding and some ice cream from the store. That was easy and she could do it in the morning.

She called the bait man. His home was his business. He was happy to come. They talked for over an hour more, not really saying anything new, just talking. It left her feeling good.

Dan and Tim were playing pool in the back room again. Another friend had come over and Brian came dragging in from the lake, so it was a foursome. They played a few games and switched partners, and then played a few more. Tim was definitely the best shot, but Brian was improving fast. Life was hard on the kids in Desolation. Most grades had less than ten students, some had more, some as few as three or four. The big birth years filled grades with as many as twenty students, but those were rare years. There had been a few years between Dan and Tim's time in school and the present with large classes, but all from one family and mostly boys. A lot of families lived outside town. When summer came the lake was the main place to meet, if they saw any friends at all. The girl with Brian on the beach lived in town. Brian's summer would improve.

Dan had bought a couple of movies the day before, not new but new to him. Brian took off. Right after that, Tim's friend left too saying his wife had him on a short leash. The movies were new to Tim and they kicked back for the evening to watch them. They ate some heat and eat Chinese complete with egg roll and rice, intended for to be micro waved and eaten in a hurry. It took some popcorn with chili powder the way Dan liked it to fill the empty space in their guts that had been growing all day. At the end of the last movie Tim headed home.

Dan got a big glass of buttermilk. He always said he bought it to make cornbread, but the truth was that he loved it. As much as he had eaten since starting the movies, you wouldn't think he would still be hungry. There was that empty feeling in his gut though that demanded attention. The buttermilk had the ability to make you feel full without eating anything, and with that sour cream type flavor it felt like eating something as you gulped down the thick liquid.

Buttermilk coats your stomach, just the way fresh milk does. Dan rarely ever got drunk. Tonight he was at home alone. For a Saturday night it was still early. There was no way he could get into any trouble if he got drunk, and that big bottle of Weller was still sitting on the high shelf in the back room. The high shelf was full of what his sister had termed garage sale junk. After his mom died, she went through the house and took everything she wanted. Looking at the shelf reminded him of his mom and in a weird way the whiskey bottle looked right at home sitting up there. One ugly greenish brown vase that resembled a whiskey bottle had been on Antiques Road Show when he noticed it. He never checked further but the show valued it at over a thousand dollars. Beauty and value might not be connected.

The big bottle was over half full. Dan wasn't quite ready for the change in flavors from drinking beer. He added a tiny splash of Coke to the whiskey and ice, just to soften the bite and sweeten it. After three glasses, he was asleep on the couch with all the lights on and a movie playing.

Brian was bored and itching to do something. After eleven, he snuck outside and made his way around to the front porch. He crawled into a big egg shaped wicker chair that hung from the ceiling. It swallowed him and was his private sanctuary. With the lights out inside the house he sat invisibly in the big hanging chair. Sometimes friends would wander by and knew to find him waiting in the dark. Tonight no one came. Dan's dog found Brian in the chair and coaxed a scratching out of him. The dog curled up under Brian's feet and wagged his tail against the floor of the porch. After waiting for someone to pass by for several hours Brian woke with a jolt. His neck was stiff. He still saw the faint light from the TV through the cracks in the curtains. Opening the door he found Dan asleep on the couch with the whiskey beside him and a blank blue screen glaring back into his face.

Tempted by the sight of the whiskey, Brian opened the bottle and took a small taste. He had only tasted beer and wine before. At first he thought it was terrible but as he savored the flavor in his mouth he decided he liked it after all. He turned the bottle up three more times taking large gulps as if he was drinking a soda on a hot afternoon. The level in the bottle had dropped about two inches. He replaced the bottle and sat up as the liquor took effect. "Damn, Dan, how do you drink that shit?" he asked the sleeping friend beside him, expecting no answer at all.

He turned the bottle up a few more times, swallowing large gulps. Raising himself with both hands firmly on the chairs arms he almost fell back into his seat as he felt the full force of the drink. He propelled himself forward and stumbled toward the bathroom as an urge to piss consumed his thoughts. Steam rose as the yellow stream hit the water in the bowl. Dan's empty bed was near the door. He stumbled to the far side of the bed. He dropped his shorts beside the bed and folded himself beneath the covers, quickly dead to the world. Within an hour Dan stirred from his sleep. He cut off the TV and the lights, shed his clothes, and crawled between the sheets on the opposite side of the big bed from Brian. Neither of them felt the presence of the other one. The old mattress had been Dan's parents and had sunk in on both sides where their bodies forced it to conform to two shapes over the years.

Laura drove by Tim's house on the way home from work that night. She wasn't expecting him to be there but as she drove up he was getting out of his truck to go inside. They drank and danced around the kitchen a while in each others arms and she spent the night.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Bob Esterhazy was a quiet man. He never wore pink and only wore socks that were black or tan unless he had his boots on, which was most of the time. He stood six foot four and filled out to a buff one hundred eighty five pounds now in his twenty-fifth year. He was never seen in Desolation except as his truck passed through driving to some destination, but Desolation was his home. He was born late in the lives of his parents, his mother being forty and his dad being fifty five. His mom passed on when he was six and his dad took years to recover from her loss. Maria had cared for him through those difficult years while caring for her own older children at home. Don Esterhazy had business interests away from the ranch and it was only stocked to keep appearances up. Don managed to be home occasionally for the boy, but hired help, mainly Martin Culler who worked the ranch with orders to teach Bob what he needed to know to do the work himself.

Bob lived a solitary life. Maria filled the emptiness as best she could and money filled the rest. Groceries were delivered every Wednesday by the truck that served the Gas'n'Go for Sally. He never managed to make any friends through all his years in school. At twelve Don brought home a pup for him. It was a Pyrenees and he was immediately in love. The pup got the name "SNOW" because Bob said he'd never seen snow or had a pup of his own before. When Bob reached fourteen his dad felt he could care for himself and Maria was no longer needed. She checked on him occasionally having grown fond of the boy over so many years and did a little around the house. He began seeing more of his father as he neared graduation. The closeness and love of a parent for their child fit into their relationship, not just the responsibility for his needs. Bob had always had good grades. Nearing graduation he still had never grown into his looks and appeared gangly and out of proportion, like a geek. His quiet manner rendered him invisible.

Over the years the operation of the ranch had grown into a smaller token enterprise. All the hands had been let go except Martin Culler, who was kept to teach Bob the basics and do what work was needed. Martin was getting older and probably couldn't have found another job ranching. If anything, he was as quiet as Bob. Their conversations were minimal, just enough said to get the job done.

Bob grew even more isolated after finishing school. At the same time he grew into himself, his face filled out and his body became hard and muscular from his work on the ranch. Before a year had gone by, his dad passed away and he was truly alone. Lawyers took care of his finances and there was more than he would ever need. He and Snow worked the ranch with a little help from Martin, the groceries arrived on schedule each week and through the internet anything he desired was delivered to his door. There was a temporary attraction to porn but he found it left him empty and never satisfied. All his efforts went into doing more on the ranch to fill the time each day and bring some joy into his life. Tim delivered fuel and propane but they only exchanged nods and receipts. His only trips to Desolation were to see Sally and buy bait. She'd always say, "You must come to town more, Bob, we're never sure you're still around." He'd smile and say "I will Ma'am," but still only came a few times a year. He would show up at church from time to time, usually when Maria insisted he come. If you become accustomed to being alone, you forget there is any other way to live. Bob Esterhazy was a lonely man, but even still he smiled.

Years passed like days. The passenger side of the pickup seat had the stray hairs Snow left from each trip they made. There was a depression on the far side of the big bed where Snow slept. That old dog was his life, his reason to be. Saturday night passed as all the nights before had gone. Bob slept on his side of the bed and Snow took his own place for the night.

As Bob rose in the morning, the light was just breaking over the ranch and the sun was still below the horizon. He washed the night from his eyes and slowly moved toward the kitchen. The coffee had made before he awoke and he filled a cup to begin the day. Something was missing this morning; Snow had not followed him to the kitchen or scratched on the door to be let out. Bob's heart sank. He returned to the bedroom and found Snow still lying quietly in his spot, but as he touched Snow the body was cold and he knew Snow had died. A slow moan rose from his throat and it changed to a sobbing wail. He fell to his knees beside the bed and then there was only silence. Love takes many forms. It fills the need and Bob Esterhazy had known only one love these last thirteen years, the love of Snow.

When calm finally came upon him he set about the task at hand. He went to the shed by the barn and started the backhoe. Snow was a big dog, a Great Pyrenees, over one hundred and thirty pounds, and the hard dry earth was more than human strength could manage. He drove to his favorite spot near the house in the shade of a big cottonwood and dug a grave the size that could hold a man. Returning to the bedroom, he lifted the dog in his arms as if it were a child and carried him gently to his rest. Each shovel full of dirt was gently placed as if Snow would feel pain were it to fall more roughly. Finally done, he placed a large stone over the loose earth and topped it with a cluster of his mother's roses freshly picked from the bushes near the house.

With the tractor stowed away in the shed, Bob knew he had to get away from the ranch and everything that surrounded him. He drove away in the pickup and even it made him think of Snow. He just drove and drove with no destination. After some time had passed he was forced to stop as another truck pulled out from a cattle guard. A figure approached and coming out of his haze, he saw Maria standing beside his window. The dam burst and he wailed as tears flowed down his cheeks. He couldn't speak. Maria pulled the door open and reached to hug his neck, wiping his eyes and holding his hand.

Maria pulled him from the pickup and led him to sit beside her in Charlie's truck. Charlie parked Bob's truck inside near their house and walked back to take his seat there with Maria and Bob. It was a long silent comforting Maria dispensed as a mother gives her child, not knowing what brought the pain. Charlie drove on down the road, with a squeeze of Maria's hand and a nod from her, she exchanged a silent communication with him to continue on as they had already been headed. Snow's death coming so soon after Martin dying left Bob feeling abandoned. Only Maria truly understood.