Gracies Pond

Chapter One

A cold, stiff wind had started blowing late last night. Buck knew then that it was time to get to work. In the light of the moon, he started moving his small amount of stock in to pens, corrals and the barn. The wind was not letting up all night.

As the dawn was breaking in the East, Buck had just taken an armload of wood in to the house and was stoking the fire. Warmth was what he needed now. Changed into a clean pair of jeans and a blue flannel shirt (all he ever wore), Buck sat down at the kitchen window and looked out over his land, savoring his coffee with just a touch of whiskey in it. Lately, that was the only time he drank alcohol. As he was watching the sun coming up in the East, he also noticed the ominous, heavy laden, snow clouds building up over the sand hills to the Northwest.

This was the time of year he disliked the most, too little to do and too much time to think and remember.

As a young boy, his older brother Bill and he couldn’t wait until the first snowfall. A lot of the time they couldn’t go to school due to the roads being snowed over. So, after morning chores they would sled down Bill’s Hill. Named after Bill since he was the first one to ride it from top to bottom all at one try.

We didn’t have anyone else to play with, as the closest neighbor was half a mile away. All they had was Gracie, and who needs a girl? Probably couldn’t even throw a snowball! Bill and I would be rich if we had a nickel for every snowball we threw. Bill was not just my big brother; he was also my best friend.

The sound of gravel crunching under tires brought Buck out of his daydream. Picking up his cup of coffee, Buck found it had gotten lukewarm. Looking out his window and downing his coffee, he saw Ed Barnes, the county vet, coming up on Buck’s property. Turning under the eight by eight structure with the Rocking B’s sign above and crossing the cattle guard; dust blowing to the South. Won’t be long before there won’t be any dust Buck thought looking at the clouds getting closer.

Ed pulled up to the wooden plank porch just as Buck had opened the front door. A cold wind that felt like ice met Buck’s face. Come on in Buck yelled above the wind, as Ed climbed out of his rust bucket he called a truck.

Ed had one hand on his Stetson and his medical bag in the other as he clamored up the three steps to the porch and stepped quickly across the porch and through the storm door. Closing it quickly and then the wooden door behind it. How ya been, Buck? asked Ed. Getting along just fine Ed, coffee?

Buck asked. Can’t stay long, just left the Nelson’s place down the road, figured I’d drop in since I was so close. Storm coming up and all, just thought I’d check on you. Animals alright?

Yep, got’ em all in last night Buck said as he poured two cups of coffee. Let’s sit here at the table for a bit Buck said.

Ed removed his Stetson and Sheepskin coat, hanging them on the hat rack by the door asked Heard from Bill Lately?

Got a letter from him the other day, wasn’t much to it. Telling me about how much he hates the city, crime and all. Says he can’t make the money he’s making here that he’s making there. Says him and boy are just fine, Buck answered.

Buck and Ed just sat with hands around their cups, looking out the window.

Shame about Bill losing Emily the way he did, Ed said. Wouldn’t have lost his wife if he wasn’t so all fired up about living in that city and making that big money", Buck said angrily.

You thought a lot of Emily, didn’t you? Ed said. She was a good woman Ed, ain’t many of those around. She liked it out here. I wish Bill would have moved here before the accident. Not that much traffic out here. Damn drunk drivers!"

Ed noticed a slight tear well up in Buck’s eye.

Well Buck, wish I could stay longer, Ed said finishing off his coffee. Where’s Turk by the way? Turk was Buck’s 3-year-old Labrador. That black devil’s out chasing phantom rabbits or down at the pond getting in a swim before the storm, Buck said.

Speaking of storms, I better get going, Ed said. Getting back into his jacket and hat, the sound of scratching came at the door. There’s Turk now, guess he’s had enough Buck said. They both chuckled at this.

Turk bolted through the door as it was opened, stopped, sniffed Ed’s pants then sat down, begging. Ed closed the door still inside and produced a piece of beef jerky from his pocket. Turk’s ears perked up and he cocked his head to the left, licked his muzzle and sat patiently looking at his doctor-friend. Turk raised his right paw and Ed gave him the treat. Turk then retreated to the throw rug in front of the fireplace and commenced to consume his reward.

You spoil that dog, Ed Buck said. And you don’t? Ed replied with a smile.

Ed shook Buck’s hand, said See ya later and was out the door.

The wind had let down a little, Ed waved as he made a circle in front of the house and headed toward the gate. Dust billowing up behind him as he headed east toward town.

Buck stood at the window watching until Ed and the dust trail were out of sight. Buck sat back at the table looking at the road and his mind wandered back.

A cloud of dust coming hell bent for leather, proceeded by a red ‘52 Chevy pickup, was coming towards the gate. Both Bill and I knew that there was going to be hell to pay within a few minutes. Driving that truck was our Dad and sitting next to him was a screaming, perplexed and irate woman, our Mom.

Mom and Dad (others knew them as Maggie and Bob Stevens) went into town every other weekend for groceries and such and Mom would tell Dad how to drive all the way. When Bill and I weren’t with them the same thing happened every time.

Dad would wait until he was about one mile form our place and he would drive like the Devil was after him, all the way to our gate, slide through the gate and cruise to the porch, everything learned to stay out of the way.

When stopped at the porch, Mom would smack Dad on the back of his head with her open hand and Dad would just laugh. Mom would say Bob Stevens you are some kind of fool then she would get out of the truck and Dad would continue to laugh, all though not quite as robustly.

Mom would stomp across the porch, go in the house, firmly close the front door and go to her room, Thus leaving the three of us to carry the boxes of groceries in. After the groceries were put up Mom would come out and tell Dad you nearly scared the dickens out of me, and Dad with a little smile would say" I just don’t know what got into me, Honey. Then they would kiss each other. Then Dad would wink at Bill and me.

A nudge from a cold nose brought Buck back to today. Turk was sitting beside him with his big yellow eyes saying lunchtime. Okay boy Buck said rising from his chair. Let’s see what we have. With Turk by his side, bacon and beans were fixed for lunch, both of their favorite.

As predicted, snowflakes as large as nickels began to fall outside.

Chapter Two

The alarm said 6:00 AM. and Bill reached sleepily across and turned it off. Sitting on the side of the bed, Bill stretched and felt all thirty-nine years of bumps and bruises. Rising, Bill walked into the hallway, knocked on BJ’s door, Time to get up and at em Bill said.

Bill Jr., better known as BJ, barely coming out of his coma sighed Okay Dad. Bill continued down the hall, and turned into the bathroom. After relieving himself, Bill washed his hands and face. Toweling himself dry, Bill leaned over and picked up the silver framed 8x10 picture of his wife and kissed it. I love you, Honey and like every morning a lump grew in his throat. Leaving the bathroom, and what seemed like every morning for the last twelve years, came back to BJ’s door, knocked and heard an immediate and slightly defiant I’m up Dad."

Bill, being a single parent for the last six months, had removed himself from everything except his son and work.

Since Emily’s accident took her out of his world, Bill didn’t have any zest for life. Everything seemed so useless.

Work was the easiest as it kept his mind busy and full. Driving to and from work and at night were the hardest. Too many memories, passing stores they shopped at or restaurants Emily and him had eaten at seemed to draw his attention, and pain and loss would fill his heart.

Passing the park on Clay Road, and looking at the teeter totter, Bill would see Emily holding BJ on one end and himself on the other end laughing and squealing as up and down they went. So many years…So many memories.

Bill was dropping the second scoop of coffee grinds into to the paper filter when he heard BJ’s door open. Mornin’ Dad, BJ said in a voice that was still in the process of changing from that of a boy to that of a man.

Good morning Son, sleep well? Bill asked, turning from the coffee maker to his son.

All right I guess BJ replied as he reached for a glass from the cupboard. As Bill watched his son cross the kitchen towards the fridge, he noticed how much like his mother he was, with his red hair and small frame, which he had no way of concealing since all he had on was his briefs. No reason for modesty since it was just the two of them. BJ poured himself a glass of orange juice, and closing the door asked, How about you Dad, get any sleep?

BJ knew the answer, it was always the same Like a rock but he could see it in Dad’s eyes and posture. Dad had lost a lot of weight and his shoulders kind of slumped down and forward, his head seeming like it was too heavy to hold up, seemed to always be hanging down, and grayish bags were under his slightly bloodshot eyes.

Like a rock, Son! Bill answered quietly.

BJ retreated to his room to get dressed for school. On the closing of the door, Bill sitting at the table, put his head in his hands and closed his watering eyes. Bill had no one to talk to about how he felt. Thoughts of suicide came and went. Only the love for his son kept him from carrying out such an act, when the depression and remorse got so deep at times. Those that he did talk to, mostly co-workers, would say: You’ll get through this, It takes time, It will get better. How the hell did they know! None of them had their whole life mangled in a car by some DRUNKEN SON-OF-A-BITCH.

Paul Webb who worked at the next drafting table, who was much older than Bill, had given him the best advice. Paul had said, I have a philosophy about life Bill, It’s one day at a time, we can handle anything, one day at a time", and he said no more about it.

Bill raised his face from his hands at the sound of BJ’s door opening and heard BJ close the bathroom door. Bill was very glad his son had not come into the kitchen and caught his dad crying. Bill walked to the sink, ran cold water into his cupped hands and splashed water in his face a number of times and toweled it dry with a dish towel hanging on the rack. He went to the mug rack on the counter, pulled a coffee mug off and turning to the coffee maker, realized he hadn’t turned it on.

Too late for that now, he thought. More time had passed than he allowed for his morning routine. He carried his mug to the fridge, found the orange juice and poured himself half a cup, all that was left, closed the fridge and tossed the empty carton into the trash.

BJ came out of the bathroom dressed for school with his Houston Rockets ball cap and sweatshirt on above his dungarees and Nike tennis shoes. He said, Dad, I need my lunch money noticing Dad still in his pajama bottoms added, Are you alright?

Yes son, just running a little late! Bill went into his room and came out handing BJ two dollars said Now, get going or you’ll miss your bus!

BJ gave his dad a hug and said I love you Dad. I love you to Bill said. Then BJ was out the front door, into the humid and slightly cool Houston air.

Bill also running late, hurried into his room, threw on his pants, dress shirt, socks and shoes, slung his tie around his neck, went into the bathroom, brushed his hair and teeth, grabbed his portable electric razor, through the house to the hall closet, grabbed his windbreaker and hurried through the front door. Turing to lock the door Damn, where are my keys?

Bill exclaimed. Rushing back into the house and to his room, Bill found that not only had he forgotten his keys, but also his wallet, change and belt! Everything that was in or on his pants from yesterday.

Finally locking the door behind him. Bill walked to his black BMW in the garage, hitting his alarm and hearing the familiar beep-beep as the car unlocked. Bill realized he had better slow down or he would end up in a wreck.

Luckier than most people in Houston, he only had a short way to work, about twenty-five to thirty minutes depending on traffic.

Bill drove at a reasonably sane pace while he shaved but got into a faster pace when he heard the radio announcer say, If you have to be at work at eight, you have ten minutes.

Bill arrived at work at two minutes after eight and was already tired. Walking rapidly up the walkway and fixing his tie as he passed through the automatic sliding doors of GM&T Architectural Designs Inc., he thought, Thank God it’s Friday.

Paul was sitting by his drafting table when Bill came into their office holding a cup of coffee in his hand.

Good morning Bill, saw you coming up the walk and figured I’d pour you a cup too, Paul said pointing at a cup sitting by Bill’s table.

Thanks Paul and good morning to you too, Bill said. Paul like BJ, had noticed how Bill had not seemed to be getting any better since Emily’s death, decided it was time to see if he could help Bill. Normally Paul was the type of man to stay out of people’s business unless someone asked for help. Once asked, he would give his all, sharing his strength, hope, and experience. At fifty-two years old he had plenty, and that was all he had to offer.

Bill, I was wondering, since we have a pretty light work-load today.

Bill’s mind shot forward thinking, No, don’t say we are going home early.

I was wondering if maybe you and I could go out and have an extra long lunch today. Paul finished.

Well, I don’t think I should lea. Bill started.

"Bill, in the two plus years we have been working together we have never had lunch together, outside of this office that is! Come on it will be my treat.

Bill hesitated slightly, then said, Okay, what the hell, be good to get away from here for a while!

In Bill’s hesitation Paul noticed something he had known so well, for so long himself, a deep and overpowering fear.

Paul finishing his coffee said, Good then we have a date, shall I pick you up at twelve? and they both laughed at this. Paul turned to his table and going through his Rolodex found the number he wanted and dialed the number.

Bill just looked out the window at the gray Houston sky and thought, That’s the first time I have laughed in a long time. It

felt good and just the smallest of a smile line deepened on either side of Bill’s thin lips.

Chapter Three

Buck and Turk had both finished their lunch, Buck at a pace reserved for people with nowhere to go, and Turk the pace of a vacuum cleaner.

Turk lay asleep on the rug in front of the fireplace, his front paws jerking in rapid, spasmodic movements. Dreaming as dogs do. Buck sitting in his easy chair, watching the flickering fire, went back to a sunnier time.

Hey Bobby! (Buck’s given name), go ask Dad if we can go swimming, Bill said.

You know we have to have all our chores done, Bobby answered. I do! Need some help? Bill asked. A large smile crossed Bobby’s face as he yelped, Sure, just need to finish painting this part of the chicken coop!

At ten and twelve years old, painting can be a messy job, but Bill and Bobby had a knack, and a good teacher in their father, and were able to do the job neatly.

Pulling together they finished within half an hour, and stood back, with one arm around the others back, with raised brushes in their other hands, and said in unison. Another job well done by the Stevens brothers. Laughing, they cleaned up and both ran to find their dad.

Being allowed to go swim after Dad’s inspection of the coop and a pat on the back was a great reward.

Bill had been reading Treasure Island and so down at the pond we were no longer kids, we were good guys and pirates. Using tomato stakes for swords and hats made of newspaper we sailed the seven seas.

Using a 2x12 board, five feet long, which we had pushed out into the pond, we had an enemy ship to sink. Our cannon balls were dirt clods. We sank many a ship that day.

During such a battle a pickup truck came pulling through our front gate and Bill and I both crouched