Acknowledgements: A special thanks to my wife for being my sounding board for a lot of the ideas and being the first to read and give feedback on this book (Also, thanks for being patient with me while I stayed up late nights working on this project. It’s finally here.)
While I will leave them unnamed, a big thankyou to the horsemen and women whose character was impressed upon me beginning at the young age of fifteen while ranching; if the “cowboy” part of the story line is unrealistic, I have no excuses.
Disclaimer: While some of the locations are real, all characters and circumstances are completely fictional, a product of nothing more than the author’s imagination, bearing no relevance to real life individuals or occurrences.
Connect with Martin at:
[email protected]
https://www.facebook.com/mcbookclub/
http://twitter.com/MartinCogburn
Copyright 2016 Martin Cogburn. All rights reserved.
Beneath the Tombstone
By Martin Cogburn
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter One
An old crow flapped its wings as it came to rest on top of a chain-link fence that surrounded a baseball field. Sunlight shown off of its midnight-black feathers as the shimmering light brought the dull color to life. The muffled thud of a bat smacking against a ball sounded and, as a result, the old bird cocked its head sideways, eyeing the game in progress. Having been around long enough to learn about the wastefulness of humans (especially the miniature ones who liked to scream a lot and throw rocks) he hopped down and began sneaking over towards the bleachers to see what kind of goodies had rained down from above.
Reaching his goal safely, the old crow was innocently gobbling down peanuts and bits of popcorn when a loud crash thundered above. “Whoever taught that boy how’da swing ought’a be hung!” a deep male voice bellowed. That was the old crow’s cue. With wings flapping madly, he took off, clipped a joist with his wing, recovered then continued his trek, headed back to the peace of the wilds of nature.
Unaware of the fright he had just caused a certain feathered creature, the big man, who had jumped to his feet and did the yelling, was shaking his head in disgust, causing his hair to flop everywhere. He didn’t appear to have seen a barber or a razor in… well, ever. A couple of gnawed-down, crocked yellow teeth adorned his mouth, and tobacco stains ran down one side of his chin. Nothing covered his enormous torso but an old pair of blue bib overalls and enough stringy chest hair to make a black bear jealous. Considering his whole appearance, it wouldn’t have been hard to believe he was capable of carrying out his threat.
Two rows down sat a much quieter man who appeared to be in his mid-twenties. He was clean shaven, wore a nice dress shirt with pressed jeans and wouldn’t dream of going more than a few weeks without getting his hair cut. His name was Jason.
Jason was a man who preferred to confront his enemies to their back, especially when said enemy looked like the off-spring of Bigfoot. So the fact that it was his nephew, Ken, down there swinging, combined with the fact that Jason had put in a good solid thirty minutes showing the boy how to play baseball, was not enough to drive him to his feet in defense of his teaching abilities.
“Strike two,” the umpire yelled.
It wasn’t really that bad of a swing, Jason thought, trying to console himself – but he didn’t believe it. It looked more like a downward slashing karate-chop. Maybe he should have spent those thirty minutes teaching the boy Mixed Martial Arts.
While waiting for the last strike, Jason squirmed and fidgeted, wishing the game would hurry up and end. He had no idea who was winning and, to be perfectly honest, he didn’t care just as long as it was over soon.
Mercifully, Jason’s mind began to wander, taking him away from the pain and torture the metal bleachers were bringing upon his body. He had noticed a little secret about his nephew, and to this diversion his mind fled. It seemed that Ken had a crush. The boy had been casting what he probably considered to be subtle glances at a little girl who appeared to be about his own age. She was probably the reason Ken couldn’t hit the ball. It seemed that even little ladies had a way of making a fella flustered.
Jason smiled as he watched. Like the memory of a delicious dessert or a sweet smell from childhood, the hint of innocent attraction entered his senses. Jason knew he was growing older, and he also knew that doing so was inevitable, but what he really wished he knew was of some way to make love stay young… forever.
He wasn’t smiling anymore. When had his life gotten so complicated? It had never been all that simple but, up until recently, love had been. It either was or it wasn’t; he either felt it or he didn’t. But now days it seemed that the little four letter word “love” was the most complicated one in the dictionary. How long had it been since his wife had given him looks that showed she was attracted to and loved him? For that matter, how long had it been since she’d given him looks that were anything but cold? He knew that the love between them was still there, somewhere, just the evidence of it was gone.
“Strike three! Yeeeer out’a here!” the umpire yelled, breaking into Jason’s thoughts. He sat up straight. Already annoyed by the problems on his mind, the umpire’s embellishment of the official call did nothing but add to his irritation. There was no, “Good try, kid,” or “You’ll do better next time,” just a look of disappointment from some of the parents and a cruel call from one of his more talented teammates.
“Way’da go, Kenney B. Loser,” the boy, who was much bigger, yelled. “That was our last chance to win the game.” Ken reacted as though he’d been slapped in the face before picking up his pace a bit, trying to get off of the field as quickly as possible.
If his nephew had messed up at any other time during the game, it wouldn’t have been such a big deal but, apparently, he’d struck-out on the last out of the last inning with runners on second and third. There was going to be some talk about “that boy who couldn’t hit” at a few supper tables around town tonight. But the big, hairy giant didn’t seem to be willing to wait until then. He let out a deep sigh. Evidently, this was just about as bad as a fumble costing his team the Super Bowl. He shook his head, and Jason overheard him angrily mumble something about, “They shouldn’t uh let’em play. Should’a kept ‘em on tha’ bench. Just wadn’t ready.”
Watching as Ken walked away in defeat, with his batting helmet pulled down low in a feeble attempt to hide his shame, made Jason want to give that overgrown swamp-rat a piece of his mind. Maybe here in about fifty years when the man’s stringy black hair turned white, and he looked more like a crippled-up Abominable Snowman than Bigfoot.
Aside from that, win, lose, or draw, Jason was just thankful that the game was finally over. As he rose from his seat of torture, a tingle ran down one leg. It felt like a million tiny spiders were tap dancing their way from his lower back down to his thighs. Due to this hindrance, Jason made a painful descent towards the bottom without much more speed than an eighty year old sl
oth.
He was about halfway down when someone behind him annoyingly cleared their throat. Obviously, the pace Jason had set was less than satisfactory. In his discomfort, he was in no mood for the impatience of others. Turning to question their gesture, he recognized the big, hairy loudmouth and decided that forgiveness might be in his best interest. Jason quickly moved out of the way while it was still his decision to be made.
Feeling like his masculinity had just been violated, Jason let a few more people pass before making his way down towards the field, trying to spot Ken as he went. He finally saw the boy standing motionless over close to the concession stand with his back turned to the crowd. He looked as though he thought that if he stood still enough, maybe no one would notice him.
Jason, knowing it was his job to cheer the boy up, walked up behind him, slapped him on the back, and loudly proclaimed, “Good game bud!” – But his plan back-fired. Instead of Ken’s face magically lighting up into a smile, the poor boy reacted as though he’d been zapped with a hot shot. In the process of lunging away and trying to spin around to face his attacker, he crashed into a trash can, leaving the small amount of pride he had managed to retain lying scattered with the trash on the ground.
Jason stood there for a few awkward moments, completely dumbfounded. “Oops,” was the first clever word that came to his mind and out of his mouth. Other than that, he really didn’t know what to say. Finally, he just knelt down beside his nephew and began helping him pick up the trash.
After a bit, Ken wiped his nose and cheek with one swipe, probably smearing snot around to his ear. “I knew I’s goanna mess up,” he sniffed then tossed a plastic soda bottle into the trashcan. “I always do… It just ain’t fair.” The boy kept picking up trash as he tried to hide the tears that were building up in his eyes. What could Jason say to fix that? His marriage was on the rocks, and a big, mean man had just bullied him… so, like the blind leading the blind, he just said what came to mind.
“Yeah, get used to it,” he sighed and shook his head. “Sometimes life isn’t fair.” He then paused for a moment, remembering that he was talking to someone who still believed that a little sparkly lady buzzed around paying children to lose teeth. “Um, but you know, sometimes life can be very fair.” Even while he was saying it, he realized how lame it sounded.
This is the exact reason that he never wanted to have children, which is the exact reason he had gone round after round with his wife, Misty. He knew she could picture herself being the perfect mother of the perfect child, with Jason as the perfect father, and them as the perfect family. She never talked about it to such extremes, like it was her heart’s one true desire, but he could see in her eyes that it was. Every time they passed the baby department in a store, saw a pregnant lady, or a mother with young children, her eyes would cloud over with such longing that Jason couldn’t help but feel a bit envious.
The whole thing really made his head hurt, and he obviously wasn’t making Ken feel any better… plus everyone who walked by was staring. It was time for an excuse. “I tell you what,” he said to the boy. “How about I run over to the concession stand and get us a couple of hotdogs. That alright?” Ken raised his head and looked over at the stand then all around. At first, he didn’t seem too keen on the idea of being left there alone but, after a bit, he gave a small, uncertain nod anyways.
“You alright?” Jason asked, giving him a playful look. The boy gave a more confident nod, like he had made up his mind that he was practically a man, therefore he would be fine. “You think I’m alright?” Jason questioned as he gave his nephew a friendly nudge. With that, Ken gave a slightly bigger nod, accompanied by a little smile that was straining to win the fight with his sad frown. “All – right, I’ll be right back then,” said Uncle Jason, glad for the graceful escape.
During his trip to the hotdog stand, Jason’s thoughts turned back to his wife. The first few years of their marriage seemed to have been straight out of a romantic movie. Well, the movie was over. Scary words like “kids” and “pregnant” were being used in the same sentence with “family,” more and more. Jason would use excuses like, “we don’t have enough money for a baby,” but that wasn’t the real reason. He had never told Misty the real reason.
“Women,” he mumbled but spoke louder than intended. The lady behind the counter gave him a strange look. It was one that Jason didn’t seem to notice, at least not until he glanced up from his thoughts to pay for the food. By then, her look had changed into a challenging, I’m-ready-to-defend-my-gender glare. He was completely taken back by her expression. Why did all women seem to have it in for poor Jason?
Baffled, he turned around with hotdogs in hand. To his surprise, he saw the little auburn-haired girl helping Ken pick up trash. With a smile on his face, Jason sat down at a picnic table to eat his hotdog and watch.
After the trash was finally cleaned up and the little girl had said goodbye to Ken, Jason headed over towards the boy who was off in his own little world, watching her leave… probably thinking about rescuing her from the bad guys, whisking her off her feet and the two of them riding off into a golden sunset on the back of a beautiful white steed.
Not wanting to cause a replay of the previous train wreck, Jason gently placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Ken?” he all but whispered. “Got your hotdogs.”
“Thanks Uncle Jason,” the boy turned around and beamed. Wow. Somebody was sure in a good mood.
“You’re welcome, bud,” Jason replied with a grin.
Unable to pass on the chance to do a little teasing, Jason leaned in, inspecting the boy’s face. “You sure do seem happy,” he noted. “Did something happen while I was gone?”
Ken squirmed uneasily and tried to put on a solemn face. “Why should I be happy? I struck out.”
“Yeah,” his uncle laughed. “You may have struck out at baseball, but it looks like you hit a home run where little girls and love are concerned.”
His nephew, with ears turning red, tried to deny with one word. “What?”
Jason shook his finger at Ken as he chuckled, “Now don’t give me that. You can’t deny a romantic date like picking up trash.” As a result, a bashful smile spread across the boy’s face.
- - - - - -
A short time later, as the pair sat on the top row of bleachers, Ken looked up at his uncle. “Can I have another one?” the boy asked with a grin, mustard and chili smeared around his mouth.
“Another hotdog?” Jason asked in bewilderment. “What’d you do with the last two?”
“Ate them,” Ken answered, giving his stomach a happy rub.
“You sure you didn’t stick them in your pockets?” Jason asked, pretending to be doubtful. The question received a giggle from the boy. “Maybe I’d better pat your tummy down just to make sure they’re in there,” he said with a mischievous grin as he reached over towards the boy’s stomach. Ken pooched it out.
“Yep, sure feels like they’re in there to me,” Jason said while probing the bulge. “It feels like there’s one right here!” he exclaimed while grabbing the boy’s far side right above his hip bone.
Squealing and laughing, Ken lunged away from the hand that was wrapped around his lower back, almost landing him in his uncle’s lap. Jason, in retaliation, grabbed the boy’s other side yelling, “And I think there’s one right around here, too!” The boy howled with delight as he sprang back the way he’d come.
After all the excitement had calmed down and three hotdogs later, which is what it took to get Ken’s tummy full, he sat beside his uncle watching the sun make its way toward the snowcapped Spanish Peaks. Jason inhaled deeply, indulging in the rich smell of spring before casting a glance at his nephew. Maybe kids weren’t so bad. Maybe he could be a father, after all. Might be the very thing he and Misty needed to spice up their marriage. He leaned back against the rail and laced his fingers together behind his head as he felt the world breeze by at a leisurely pace.
- - - - - -
The
last rays of dancing sunlight cast evening shadows over the highway, causing light to flash in an inconsistent sequence across the face of Jason as he drove along, lost in his own world of thought. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel to the tempo of a song that he whistled as it ran threw his head. Honestly, the words to the song were out of memory’s reach, but it was a tune his mother had once hummed as she worked around the house. Those times had been good and happy, back before the… Jason shook his head, trying to deflect the negative thought creeping into his mind. He wasn’t going there.
Having just dropped Ken off, he was headed straight home to see Misty. Boy, was she going to be surprised when he told her it might be time to start thinking about converting the guest bedroom into a baby room. “I’d better be careful,” he mumbled to himself and smiled, “or she’ll want to start renovations tonight.”
As Jason swung into the driveway, he received a warm welcome. Before he could even get the truck stopped, his golden retriever, Dixie, jumped off the porch, racing out to meet him. A smile seemed to grace her lips. In his mind, she was the perfect example of what a woman and a wife should be. She was crazy about him, and in all of their years together, she’d never had one bad or negative thing to say on his behalf.
The very moment he opened the door to his truck, she leapt up into his lap, her big hazel brown eyes shining with excitement and affection. They spoke volumes of her undying trust and dedication. She leaned towards him… then licked him right on the lips. Yuck. That was just too much.
“Alright, easy girl, easy,” Jason chuckled, trying to get her out of his face. He loved his dog, but she knew nothing of personal boundaries… though he did wish some of her lovable traits would rub off on his wife. It seemed that here lately, Misty had learned too much about personal boundaries.
Attempting to cleanse himself of dog hair and slobber, Jason headed for the steps, pulse racing from the anticipation of breaking the news about his change of heart to Misty. He could just see the disbelieving look that would be on her face right before she flung herself into his arms. Trying to control the grin about to break out on his face, Jason walked up to the door and almost knocked. Lowering his hand, he shook his head. He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous. It wasn’t like he was asking her out on a first date. On the other hand, it was a huge milestone that they were passing in their marriage.
Beneath the Tombstone (The Tombstone Series) Page 1
