The Dying Season

by J. Reichman

  Other Novels by J. L. Reichman

  Available on Amazon

  Summer of Fires

  Under the Roses

  In the editing process

  Baker’s Dozen

  Fractured

  THE DYING SEASON

  j. l. rEICHMAN

  ISBN: 13: 978-1530579235

  ISBN: 10:1530579236

  Lakeside Press

  Lake Lotawana, MO

  All rights reserved

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Few authors write in a vacuum. My writers’ group (Dave County, Ed Frownfelter, Carol Martin, Don Rogers and Tom Shepherd) critiqued, corrected, and improved this work of fiction. They also complimented when my writing deserved it.

  Marilyn True, Penny Gilliland, Mary Barber and Joan Priefert added encouragement and corrections. None of them are responsible for any errors, although I’d like to shift the blame. Any errors you find are my fault (darn it!).

  For Dick, the sweet guy who loves me enough to read my work.

  THE DYING SEASON

  Principal Characters/Residents of North Fork Glen

  Alphabetized by first name

  Andy Strong, Brook’s 10-year-old son

  Brett Jackson, the 30ish owner of a sporting goods store

  Chuck Hardin, mayor and owner of Hardin’s General Store

  Dana Hardin is Chuck’s 20-something wife

  Henrietta (Henri) Jones is a thorn in everyone’s side

  Jeff Hayes works at the service/convenience store

  Lyn Woodburn, Nick’s wife and a nurse

  Nick Woodburn, a pediatrician

  Nora Murphy, Wade’s wife in her 60’s

  Shannon Osterman owns the Red Rooster B&B

  Wade Murphy, ex-military owns a stable for horseback rides

  Zenia Tomachek works at Hardin’s General Store

  Secondary Characters

  Staying at the Red Rooster B&B

  Frank Fleener and his wife an older, retired couple

  Howard and Janet Grayson, also retired

  Larry Lockhart and his wife, ditto

  Louise Sandler, Charlie’s wife, works at City Hall

  Staying at Brett’s Jackson’s cabins

  Cheyenne Conrad, waitress at Buddy’s Bar and Red’s girl

  Chrissy Noland, Doak’s wife, is a teacher at the school

  Darren Hall, the unlucky Budweiser truck driver

  Doak Noland owns Buddy’s Bar

  Red Palmer, bartender at Buddy’s and Cheyenne’s beau

  Stella Myers, kindergarten teacher and school secretary

  Steve Myers is a local electrician

  Staying at the daycare

  Audrey Daniels and her children

  May Guthrie who owns the daycare

  Danielle Welsh who is pregnant

  Several toddlers

  Staying at the elementary school

  Cassie Long, a teacher

  Cooper Stone, a teacher

  Herb Waters, the school custodian

  Prissy Waters, Herb’s wife and the school cook

  About twenty students

  PREFACE

  The river had many moods. In the high elevations, it slumbered beneath a blanket of ice and snow during the winter. Even at lower elevations where it ran free of winter’s grip, the river stayed drowsy and dreaming. Overjoyed at its freedom, the river giggled and laughed with spring melting. It grew and tumbled, leaped and danced, and haphazardly destroyed anything in its path in its newly found ecstasy. Summer found it satisfied. It relaxed and explored the new eddies and rapids it created during its spring exuberance. In the fall, it pulled back in a speculative mood and contemplated its future.

  The river loved only itself. It tolerated deer, antelope and moose that drank in its shallows, ignored bears, mountain lions and wolves, and took no notice of the structures along its banks. Beautiful itself, the concept of beauty eluded the river. It nurtured unknowingly and would annihilate even the most fragrant blossom if that flower stood in its way. For the river hated obstructions. It tumbled rocks and boulders out of its path. It resented the beaver dams and those earthen and concrete edifices constructed to control it. The river pushed against any hindrance, trying to demolish it, find a way around it, or go over it. Now and then, in a particularly angry mood, the river succeeded.

  ONE

  The CR-V hit another pothole sending a shower of filthy water into the ditch.

  Damn Chuck and his austerity measures.

  Dr. Nick Woodburn peered through his Honda’s rain-streaked windshield, the wipers slapping furiously. Another wind gust rocked the vehicle.

  We’ll never draw new businesses to town with such lousy infrastructure, and our stupid mayor makes it worse.

  He cursed another dismal, wet day. My day off, too. Well, golf’s out. Maybe a game of tennis at Estes Park’s complex if he could get a partner. He needed the exercise after four stormy days of being shut inside. Stopped for traffic on Highway 45, North Fork Glen’s main street, he knew he needed gas. He joined the eastbound morning rush to reach Striker’s service station where the overhead lights cut the gloom. Vehicles occupied every pump, so he parked at the side and dashed through the rain to the door. Lightning flashed in the west followed by a deep rumble that echoed over the valley.

  “Hey, Doc,” Jeff Hayes said. “Thought you had Thursdays off.”

  “Got to run up to Estes. Lyn worked the night shift. Filling in for somebody at the hospital.” He thumbed over his shoulder. “Can’t get to a pump.”

  “Sit and have a coffee.” Brett Jackson, a tall, broad-shouldered, long-legged man who owned the sporting goods store next door, pointed to the vacant chair across the table from him. Nick considered him a long-time friend. “It’ll clear out soon.”

  “Think I’ll do that,” Nick said.

  Striker’s looked much like any service station convenience store with its coolers of beer, soda, and milk and counters of candy bars, chips, and gum. This morning a yellow caution sign sat beside a bucket containing a mop and emitting an acrid odor. Dirty footprints tracked the vinyl tiled flooring. When Striker threw in a couple of tables and a few chairs next to the coffee and pastries, the area became popular with locals.

  Nick filled a coffee cup. “Rain’s picking up again.”

  “Forecast says this front’s stalled.” Brett shifted in his chair, thrust his feet out, and crossed his ankles. “Dumping lots of rain along the Front Range.”

  “Can’t you talk about nothin’ but the damned rain?” Jeff said. Young and muscular with burr-cut brown hair, the convenience store clerk would jaw with anyone who could spare five minutes.

  “Heard they got ten inches and more up there.” Nick took off his windbreaker.

  “River’s running high and fast. Could have a flood like ’76,” Brett said.

  Jeff snickered. “That’s way before my time.”

  “Yeah. You’re just a kid,” Brett said with a grin.

  “Ain’t a kid,” Jeff protested. “Almost twenty-one.”

  Brett removed his glasses and cleaned them with the tail of his T-shirt. “I was only a youngster living up in Estes with my folks. Flood ruined the whole canyon. Killed about a hundred-fifty people. Some never found.”

  Nick’s stomach clinched. A flood could destroy the heart of the village. “Could it happen again?” he asked.

  “Well.” Brett held his glasses up to the light and inspected them. “They’ve built some dams upstream. Communication’s better, too, but never say never.”

  “Folks moved here in ’88,” Jeff said, “before I was born.”

  “Only a trading post and my cabins here before ’80. Then Chuck’s dad built the general store and people started moving in.” Brett’s brown eyes res
ted on Nick. “When’d you move here, Doc?”

  “Permanently? Barely three years ago.”

  “Huh. Seems longer. But you’ve been summering here for years before that.” Brett glanced out the window. "The North Fork's a boon to this town when it behaves itself. Draws in tourists and fishermen. Makes us money. But it can be deadly, too."

  “Here comes Zenia.” Jeff nodded toward the door.

  Nick turned to see the short, stocky lady enter and shake off her umbrella. “Treat me like a gofer. Send me out in this deluge.”

  “Dana want cigarettes again?” Jeff asked.

  “She smokes, needs to get drenched herself.” Zenia Tomachek propped the umbrella next to the door. “Hello, Brett. Doc. Don’t mind me. It’s just been one hell of a morning.”

  Jeff tossed a pack of Marlboros onto the counter. “Chuck should carry cigarettes at the general store.”

  Zenia shook her head. “Says he ain’t helpin’ her addiction.”

  Nick noticed the lights come on at the general store. The island of light seemed to guarantee the store’s permanency, its indestructability.

  “Sunup over an hour ago and it’s still dark,” Jeff said.

  “Opening the sports store today?” Zenia asked.

  “Suppose so. Won’t have many customers on a day like today,” Brett said.

  “Been slow over at the store, too. Chuck keeps looking out at the river. It echoes all through the store.” Zenia shuddered. “It’s unnerving.”

  “Aw, it’s okay, Zenia,” Jeff said. “The old North Fork may roar, but it don’t bite.”

  “There goes Chuck. Running over to Town Hall,” Brett said.

  Zenia chuckled. “Got to do his mayoral duties.”

  “He could stand to lose some weight. Right, Doc?” Brett said.

  “Be good for his health,” Nick said as he refilled his coffee cup.

  “He’s so full of himself,” Jeff said. “Strutting and ordering people around. You should run against him next spring, Brett.”

  This startled Nick. He realized Brett would make a strong candidate to run against. Brett, a long-time resident, was well-liked.

  “Not me.” Brett shook his head. “Too much responsibility. Doc, you should’ve run against Chuck. Got lots of experience.”

  Nick served first on the Estes Park school board and then on the city council.

  “Didn’t think I’d lived here long enough,” Nick said.

  “Chuck wasn’t always bossy,” Zenia said.

  “He used to be a regular guy,” Brett said. “Has being mayor gone to his head?”

  “It’s Dana, if you ask me,” Zenia said. “He keeps trying to impress her. You should see the way she treats him at the store.”

  “She’s quite a package. Shouldn’t have married a woman young enough to be his daughter,” Brett said.

  “Chuck’s doin’ a good job as mayor,” Zenia said. “Bet he’s got us out of the red. He runs a good store, too. Helps people out when they need it. Pays good.”

  “You would defend him,” Jeff said.

  “Chuck’s got faults, but he isn’t all bad,” Brett said.

  “There goes the bus,” Jeff said.

  Nick watched the Two Rivers school bus, crowded with middle and high school students, head east down Highway 45 and checked his watch. He needed to gas up and hit the road.

  “Gotta go. She’s having nicotine withdrawal by now.” Zenia opened the door, put up the umbrella, and sprinted across the pump islands.

  An old, drab Army jeep pulled up to pump three.

  “Wade’s here,” Brett said.

  “Surprised that old wreck of his still runs,” Jeff said.

  “Bet the thing dates back to Vietnam like Wade does,” Nick said. He considered Wade Murphy a crusty old codger whose silent scrutiny made him feel like a specimen under a microscope.

  Brett emptied the coffeepot and handed it to Jeff. “Good coffee.”

  “You should know. Sit around here every morning drinkin’ it.”

  Nick watched Wade push open the door and remove his Stetson to reveal a bald head fringed with short, white hair. His well-worn cowboy boots clumped across the vinyl flooring. “Hello, boys. I need me some Skoal, Hayes.”

  Nick found Wade’s habit of addressing others by their last name irritating. After all, Wade retired from the Army two decades ago.

  “Sure, Murph.” Jeff popped a new coffee packet into the maker and flipped a switch.

  "Say, Jackson, got any cabins rented this weekend?"

  "A few," Brett said. “All this rain, they’ll probably cancel.”

  "I'd appreciate your sending me some riders.”

  "I always mention your stable, Wade."

  "Ain't none of them made it up the hill." Wade slapped his Stetson against his jeans-clad leg.

  Nick interpreted Jeff’s raised-eyebrow glance as a question and shrugged in reply. He wondered what was going on between the two friends.

  "Well, Wade, I can't haul them up there and put them on a horse, can I?" Brett shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Seems like it's still a free country. People make their own decisions."

  "Thought we had a deal. I recommend your place; you recommend mine." Wade slapped his leg with his Stetson again.

  "The deal remains, Wade. Doubt all those people you make recommendations to come to my store."

  "Huh."

  Jeff dropped a can of Skoal onto the counter. "Anything else, Murph?"

  "Think I'll get me some of that coffee," Wade said. "Maybe warm me up a bit. Hint of frost on the pasture this mornin'."

  "Early for that," Brett said.

  Nick knew fall, the dying season, came early in the Colorado mountains, but finding frost on his back lawn in mid-September surprised him. He made a mental note to prepare for the winter.

  Wade filled his cup. "Horses nervous this mornin'. Told Nora to let them run a bit while she mucks out the stalls."

  "You got your wife muckin’?" Jeff said.

  "Another of her projects. She's into compostin'. Uses it on the garden."

  "Do any good?" Brett said.

  "Helps. Soil's so thin." Wade pocketed his change. "You goin' huntin' with me this fall?"

  "Wouldn't miss it." Brett said. "What about you, Jeff? Your hunting buddy left town, I hear."

  "Why I'd surely like to," Jeff said.

  “Wouldn’t want to take you away from your girls.” Wade winked at Nick.

  “What girls?” Jeff gestured at the empty store. “See any girls?”

  “Sure were thick this summer,” Nick said.

  Brett batted his eyes. “Flockin’ around to look into those tawny eyes.”

  Nick chuckled. “Feel those muscles.”

  Jeff busied himself rearranging the counter display. “Summer’s over. They’re all gone. Ought to get a job in some college town where they’re year round.”

  "Well, you're a good rider." Wade nodded. "Any good with a gun?"

  Hunting. I’ve got no interest in that. Nick pretended to listen, shifting his eyes from speaker to speaker. He remembered hunting with his dad. The beauty of the dead deer with its dark, knowing eyes. He got sick and his dad laughed. He never fired a gun again. Wade put on his hat and left. I wonder what’s bothering him.

  “You and Wade are good friends. What’s wrong?” Nick asked.

  “I’ve known him forever. He’s just worried. Didn’t have a good season. Now fall’s coming on. You hunt, Doc?”

  Nick shook his head. “Never have.” Not much of a lie, but he avoided the truth.

  “Got that oath, huh, Doc?” Jeff said. “Save life and all.”

  “Above all, do no harm,” Nick said. “I’d better be going.”

  “I always hunt close to town. Never camp out overnight,” Jeff said.

  "Must've been you shooting behind my house last fall.” Nick picked up his windbreaker. "Don't appreciate it at all, Jeff."

  "Well, it wasn't me, Doc. Still you shouldn't make wild
animals into pets. Feeding them and such."

  "I hear you even have a bear," Brett said.

  Nick shrugged. "Lyn likes to watch them. Give me fifty on pump four, Jeff.”

  Jeff rang it up. "Fifty-three twenty-six with the coffee."

  "There goes Chuck, running back from Town Hall," Brett said.

  "You really should run for mayor, Brett," Jeff said, “or maybe you, Doc.”

  “I just . . .” Nick paused. It was too early to commit. "And have Henri on my back all the time? No thanks."

  "Look at that!" Brett pointed across the highway. "Speak of the devil. Old Henrietta Jones is after Chuck."

  The three men watched Chuck duck into his general store. Henrietta, in a hooded rain slicker, marched determinedly after him and disappeared inside. Nick remembered the one run-in he’d had with Henrietta over cutting down a tree next to her property. Henri was a force to reckon with.

  "Wonder what burr's up her ass this time," Jeff said.

  "She'd complain about grass being green," Nick said.

  "Poor Chuck," Brett said.

  "Better him than me," Nick said. “Wonder what Henri’d do if we had a real crisis."

  While he stood gassing up the CR-V, Nick remembered Jeff’s saying he should run for mayor. He’d considered running during the previous mayoral election, but he felt his move to North Fork Glen was too recent. He could’ve won. He knew everyone in town, and they came to him with their minor cuts and scrapes. He played on the town softball team and belonged to the town’s small Rotary Club. He had the experience. He believed he could even handle Henrietta Jones better than Chuck did, and he had a plan to improve the village, draw in business.

  Lyn’s a problem and I need her. As the wife of a school board member and then of a city councilman, women voiced their opinions to Lyn hoping she could influence him. Lyn wanted to leave that life behind and enjoy normal interaction with the residents of North Fork Glen. I must have her by my side. How can I persuade her?