Is He Dead? Page 8

  “I got to go back I think we need some trucks with winches,” he ordered as he slammed the door shut on his pickup truck. His tires squealed and white smoke bellowed from underneath them as he sped off.

  “His blood pressure is normal and his pulse is 84,” a paramedic reported.

  “Okay, you’re going to have to pull the base of the log out towards the right. Okay slow,” Gene screamed.

  “Oohhh,” Tom moaned as the weight was gradually lifted from his chest.

  “He’s got a sucking chest wound, get me some plastic and a wrap. Hurry!” the paramedic yelled,

  Tom was loaded into the ambulance. Gene rode with him in the back.

  “His prognosis is very good,” the doctor in the emergency room told Melissa. He has a cracked rib, but that’s about the extent of it. We’ll keep him overnight and he can go home tomorrow.”

  “Thank God,” she said. “I was so worried.”

  Eight months after the accident, Tom was back to normal and Tom and Gene were in the woods again. They were still using the truck’s old fashioned winch to pull the logs onto the trailer.

  “This is bullshit,” Tom said. “We need a front-end loader.” The next morning, they both headed back to the bank to apply for another loan for a front-end loader. The bank loan officer explained that their credit was not good enough.

  “Your company has been late on almost every payment since you went into business. We just can’t do it this time. Only way you boys could get more money would be if you had a co-signer.”

  As Gene and Tom walked dejectedly out of the bank, Gene asked,

  “What does he mean we have been late on all our payments?”

  “Hell, it hasn’t been easy!” Tom yelled. They sat down in the truck and Gene pressed Tom again for an explanation as to why the company had been late making payments.

  “I agreed to let you and Melissa keep the books and make the payments, but if you ain’t doing it, I need to take over,” Gene exclaimed.

  “Screw you, Gene Cawthorn, there ain’t nothing wrong with our finances,” Tom said.

  “I hold on to our money until the last minute so we can make money off the interest,” Tom explained.

  They sat in the truck for a while, both men deep in thought.

  “What about your daddy-in-law? Do you think he would co-sign for us to buy the loader?” asked Tom

  Gene shook his head and said he wouldn’t even think of asking.

  “Well, damn it, Gene, what do you want? You want us to go out of fucking business? That’s what’s going to happen if we don’t get a loader,” Tom screamed. “Now, are you going to talk to him or do I need to call the man?”

  Gene agreed to call, but made it clear to Tom how things would be if his father-in-law co-signed. “If you have to be late on any payment, don’t be late on the one with my daddy-in-law’s name on it. He’s getting old and can’t afford to have his credit ruined, is that clear?” said Gene defiantly.

  Twenty-Eight

  Gene put the call into his dad-in-law. “Listen Dad, our business is going real good and all that, but we need a loader,” he said.

  Gene’s dad-in-law had always had a soft spot for his favorite son-in-law. “All right, I’ll help you boys out,” he agreed.

  The next morning, Gene’s father-in-law accompanied the two of them to the bank. He co-signed the loan to borrow money to purchase a front-end loader. As they were leaving the bank he said,

  “Boys I got faith in you now, don’t let me down, ‘cause I ain’t got the money to pay back this loan.”

  Some time passed and Jenkins & Cawthorn Logging had acquired more equipment. Gene and his wife applied for a loan using their home as collateral.

  “Tom we've been doing damn well lately. I think we both deserve a raise. What we’re getting right now just ain’t doing it,” Gene said, speaking with both Tom and Melissa.

  “Not yet,” Tom said. “This way we are paying more towards the loan. Soon we will be making big bucks.”

  “Tom, I can’t wait. I have loans with my bank and I’ve got bills to pay. I’ll tell you what. There’s a construction company here in Athens and I can make more just working for them,” Gene said.

  “Okay, Go! Get the hell out! You do what you got to do, Gene.” Tom said.

  “Damn, we’re bringing in upward of $3,000.00 a week Tom. I just want my share, shit!” Gene reasoned. “You want this damn company? I’ll just sign it over to you, lock stock and barrel.”

  “That’s fine with me. You make the arrangements and I will sign the papers,” Tom replied.

  “Just remember one thing, it’s all mine. You get nothing for backing out on me.”

  “You know you got to make it good, Tom. Margaret’s father is up to his ears in debt financing our equipment and I got a personal loan, Gene said. Margaret was Gene’s wife and her father had helped the two of them purchase more equipment since their first loan.

  Two months later, Gene made a phone call to Tom.

  “Tom, listen to me man, I got the papers. You need to meet with me so we can sign,” Gene said.

  Okay, Gene. I’ll meet you after work at the club,” Tom said.

  “What time?” Gene asked. “Make it 7:00 p.m.,” Tom replied.

  “Honey, I got Tom to agree to meet me. He is going to sign the papers this afternoon,” Gene told his wife over the phone.

  “Thank God, Gene, because he ain’t making no payments on nothing.

  You know that Melissa Jenkins used one of the company checks at the grocery store,” Margaret said. “The banks are going to come after us if you don’t get them papers signed.”

  “What time is it, Millie?” Gene asked the bartender.

  “It’s 8:45 Gene - why?” asked Millie.

  “Oh nothing,” Gene replied. Gene waited for two hours and finally left the bar.

  “Honey, I waited until 9:00 p.m. and he didn’t show up,” Gene told his wife.

  “You’re a pussy, Gene!” she yelled.

  “You’re afraid to stand up to that bastard. Why?” she yelled again.

  “I guess I am, honey, I have never told you this but, more than once he has gotten mad at me in the woods and beat the hell out of me”

  “He what? When? Why haven’t you ever told me this before, Gene?” Margaret asked.

  “Remember that night I came home with a bruise on my face, I told you a log broke loose from the cable and hit me?” Gene asked.

  “Yes, I remember,” replied Margaret.

  “It was Tom, he got mad at me ‘cause I was too slow backing up the front-end loader. He yelled at me, called me a piece of shit and dragged me out the truck. Then he hauled off and hit me with a tree limb,” Gene explained. “Shit, not long after his accident we got into a fight in the woods. Son of bitch left me out there with no ride. I had to walk six miles out to the highway and hitch a ride into town.”

  “He is one sorry bastard,” Margaret said.

  “Just get him to sign the papers so we ain’t responsible no more,” Margaret said as she closed the bedroom door behind her.

  Twenty-Nine

  “None of the damn tires on that truck are worth a shit,” Tom grumbled while he was changing a rear truck tire. This stupid thing split while the truck was in the woods.”

  “You wouldn’t think your own old man would rip you off,” he said as he spoke with Paul at the gas station.

  “Put this wheel in there,” Tom said, pointing to a device Paul had built to make changing the big truck tires a little safer.

  “That motherfucker ripped me off!” Tom yelled out loud. I’m going to get my money back, that’s for damn sure.”

  He left the gas station with a six pack of beer on his front seat. He drove the truck back to the wood yard and sat there until he finished all six beers. The longer he sat there thinking about the tires, the more furious he became with his father.

  “Open the damn door Tim,” Tom yelled as he banged on his father’s front door. Open the damn door
!”

  “What the hell do you want, Tom Jenkins? It’s 2:30 in the damn morning,” his father called down.

  “I want my money for those crappy-ass tires you sold me,” Tom screamed out.

  “I ought to kick your ass for waking me up for that,” Tim replied. Tom was known around town for being a mean son-of-a-bitch, but to be as mean as his father you have to multiply Tom by ten. Tim was ruthless, and infamous for pulling a knife on anyone who stood his or her ground with him.

  “You just bess make it right with me, right now Dad, or I’m going to have to kick your ass old man!” Tom screamed. While Tom was talking, he pulled open the squeaky screen door. Tim was standing not more than two or three feet from him. He balled up his fist and threw a demoralizing blow to Tom’s head. Tom fell back and tripped over an ottoman falling onto the floor.

  “You bastard, I’ll kill you, old man!” Tom threatened. He stood up, shook it off, and grabbed a rusty old rod iron fire poker that was leaning up against the wood stove. He swung that poker with everything he had. Tim ducked but the poker made contact skimming the top of his head. Tim didn’t say a word. He lunged at Tom and head-butted him in the forehead. Tom fell through the screen door, out onto the wooden porch.

  “You stay the hell out of my house, you worthless piece of dog shit,” Tim screamed out as he slammed the door. Tim was into his kitchen when Tom burst back through the door, but this time he had a gun in his hand, it was 25-caliber chrome-plated automatic.

  “What you going to do with that?” Tim yelled out.

  “You going to kill your ole man?” Tim yelled. Tom raised the gun, pointing it at his father’s chest. Tim swung his fist at Tom’s hand and knocked the gun free. Both Tom and Tim scrambled to gain possession of the gun. They fell onto the wood stove, knocking it over. Ashes and a cloud of black soot filled the room. Tim got his hands on the gun first. Tom jumped onto his back and tried to grab his hand. Tim tucked his hand underneath his own body and then Tom picked up a section of stovepipe and struck Tim in the head. The pipe was thin and not very heavy. Tim turned around and had the gun in his right hand pointing it at Tom.

  “Now get on your damn feet,” Tim yelled with some difficulty since he was out of breath and covered in soot. Tom stood there panting and breathing hard, as well.

  “You know what you need, you worthless piece of dog shit?” Tim asked. He pointed the gun at Tom’s right leg.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Tom screamed. Tim pulled the trigger discharging the weapon, shooting Tom in the leg.

  “You shot me! Are you fucking crazy?” Tom yelled out.

  “That’s right, now get out of my house and don’t you ever come back this way, you hear me?” Tim yelled. Tom limped out defeated and bleeding.

  “You remember one thing. I shot you in the leg. I could have killed you or shot you in the bone, but I didn’t,” Tim said.

  When Tom walked in the door of his home he looked like a coal miner. His clothes, face, arms and hands were black from the wood stove ashes and soot. “If he wasn’t my ole man I would have killed the bastard,” Tom told Melissa, as she cleaned his wounds.

  “You bess go down to the emergency room and have ‘em look at this gunshot wound,” Melissa said.

  “Naw, I’ll be all right. The bullet went clean through. Just put some iodine on it with this here,” he said bravely as he handed Melissa a cotton swab.

  Thirty

  Months passed and Tom’s wound had healed. Melissa was cleaning the trailer with the assistance of both Robert and Amanda.

  “Where’s my hairbrush?” Tom asked in an irritated tone.

  “I don’t know where it is,” Melissa answered.

  “Do you know Amanda?” Tom asked.

  “Nope,” Amanda responded.

  Tom began looking throughout the trailer turning over couch pillows and at one point kneeling to look under the sofa.

  “I wish people would leave my shit alone,” Tom yelled out in anger.

  “Okay everybody. Stop what you’re doing and find my damn brush,” he yelled.

  Amanda started looking in kitchen drawers and Melissa went back to search the bedroom. Robert didn’t move. He just sat on the ottoman watching television.

  Tom was getting extremely angry and started throwing things around the house.

  Robert reached under the ottoman and to his surprise, he found the hairbrush. Amanda walked over to Robert and he handed her the brush.

  “Here it is Tom” Amanda said.

  “Was you holding on to that brush all this time?” Tom screamed. “I been looking all over this damn house and you knew all along where it was?”

  “No sir, I didn’t know where it was,” Amanda responded.

  “Damn it. Yes, you did!” Tom yelled as he lifted his hand over his head with the brush in it. He swung and struck Robert on top of his head making the brush break in half. Robert dropped to the floor and started crying. Tom took the broken end of the brush and hit Amanda on the top of her head. He hit her so hard that a knot popped up on her head immediately after he hit her.

  “Now look what you made me do,” he yelled. “Now I done broke my brush. Melissa, your kids are a pain in my ass,” Tom yelled.

  Thirty-One

  “You think we should make a reservation before we take off to Daytona?” Melissa asked Tom.

  “Hell no, we can find something when we get there,” Tom said.

  “We’re going to let Elizabeth come with us, right?” Melissa asked.

  “I reckon,” Tom replied.

  “All right, did we get everything? Make sure,” Melissa cautioned.

  “Robert, you got to go pee, go now, you too, Amanda. I ain’t stopping until we get to Florida,” Tom barked.

  Tom pulled the car up to Ruth’s house and honked the horn. Elizabeth ran out with her suitcase. Tom got out of the car and opened the trunk.

  “Put it here,” he said. Minutes later they were on their way to Daytona Beach, Florida. They stopped at a Holiday Inn just down form the boardwalk and rented a room.

  Tom was lying on the bed and yelled, “Damn it! Can you shut up? I am trying to relax.” All the kids were begging to go swimming at the beach. Tom told them that after driving so long he needed to rest a little while.

  “Come on, let’s go!” cried Robert. Everyone was crowded into the small motel room.

  “This room ain’t big enough,” Tom said.

  “It’s okay with me,” said Melissa.

  Tom told Melissa to take the kids to the beach so he could rest for a little while. So Melissa and the kids left and Tom fell fast asleep. Nearly three hours passed and Tom woke up in the room all alone. He stood up thinking how nice it was to enjoy some peace and tranquility.

  “I need a drink,” he thought. He left the motel room and walked to an ABC liquor store located in a small strip center just down the street from the Holiday Inn. He placed a bottle of rum and a two-liter bottle of coke on to the counter.

  “You need any ice sir?” The clerk asked.

  “No, just this,” Tom replied.

  Tom returned to the motel room and mixed himself a drink. He turned the thermostat down on the air conditioner and the air conditioning unit kicked on.

  Minutes later, his silence was broken. “We’re back,” Melissa said cheerfully as she opened the motel room door.

  Elizabeth yelled out that she wanted to go skating.

  “There is a roller rink down the street,” she said.

  “Can we go skating?” asked Amanda.

  “Yeah, I reckon,” Tom replied.

  “Let’s drop them off at the roller rink and we can go to the dog track,” Tom suggested.

  “What time is the last session?” Tom asked the roller rink attendant. He told the kids that he and Melissa would return at 10:00 p.m. to pick them up.

  Tom and Melissa went to the dog track but had terrible luck betting on the greyhounds.

  “Hell, let’s go before we lose any more money,” Tom said. Th
ey left the dog track and stopped by the liquor store to buy daiquiri mix and a bag of ice.

  “Let’s go get the kids and then we can relax with some ice-cold drinks” Tom told Melissa.

  It was 11:00 p.m. and everyone was packed inside the motel room. Tom and Melissa were drinking ice cold daiquiris and watching TV. Elizabeth got up from the bed and walked into the bathroom. Amanda followed her in there. They had had a good time at the rink and she wanted to discuss the details of their evening.

  “Did you see that boy in the red shirt?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Yes I did,” Amanda giggled.

  “What the hell you two doing in there?” Tom yelled out.

  “Nutt’n Dad, we’re just talkin,” Amanda said grinning to Elizabeth. Tom opened the bathroom door and slammed it against the bathtub.

  “What the hell are you talking about in here?” He drunkenly mumbled.

  “What kind of shit are you telling Amanda?” Tom asked. Elizabeth said they were just talking about a boy they saw at the roller rink.

  “You liar,” Tom said. He threw his half-full glass of daiquiri at Elizabeth, hitting her just above her right eye.

  “I am so tired of you kids always lying,” Tom yelled. He drew back his hand and slapped Elizabeth in the face with his open hand. Elizabeth started crying hysterically and Tom struck her again. Blood was running down the side of her head. Amanda moved out of the way, went back to the double bed, and laid down burying herself under the bedspread and blanket.

  “Why don’t you act like you’re 12 years old, instead of acting like you’re five?” Tom yelled. “I can’t have a decent vacation with you kids around!”

  “Melissa, call the Greyhound station and see what it would cost to send the three of ‘em back home,” Tom said.

  “Tom I ain’t going to do that,” she answered.

  ”You ain’t going to what?” he snapped back. “I told you to call the bus station.”

  Melissa called information and obtained the number.

  “Yes ma’am. I want to know what it would cost to send three kids to Tennessee from here,” she asked. All the kids were horrified at the thought that Tom was going to send them home on a bus.