A Triker Christmas

PROLOGUE

The chainsaw screamed as it chewed into the black walnut log.  Slowly the crude outline of an elephant took shape.  The man doing the carving was Evan Wright.  The log stood outside his metal barn.  Evan was a handsome man in his late 60s.  He had a grey mustache and a full head of silver hair that grew long around his ears and collar.  He had dimples when he smiled, which he did often.  He handled the chain saw with ease.

Evan had retired from his job with the city five years previously and he’d taken up log carving.  He carved for his own pleasure at first.  He had a natural talent and he taught himself through trial and error.  He had already given away several carvings as gifts, and donated some to be raffled off at fund raising events held at motorcycle and trike rallies.

Then one day he decided to take some of them in and see if he could sell them.  He loaded up an angel, two Indians, and a cowboy riding a bear into the back of his pickup.  He tried several shops but they were not interested in purchasing his art.  He stopped for lunch at the Rustic Inn and while eating he decided to try another angle.  Instead of selling them outright he asked the manager of the Inn if he could leave his art there on consignment.  The Rustic Inn was a family restaurant and it was pretty plain.  The manager agreed that the log carvings would spruce the place up.  Both the manager and Evan were surprised when the angel sold within a week.  Evan’s work became an overnight sensation.  Everyone who dined at the Rustic Inn admired the two Indians which Evan named Running Bear and his squaw White Dove, but they were large and expensively priced.  So far they remained unsold. 


Saturday - December 20st
Un-seasonably Warm for December

Chapter 1.          New Cop In Town

Almeada is a city in West Texas.  It is surrounded on three sides by small bedroom communities and on the fourth by a river.  Almeada is the “big city” where most of the people who lived in the bedroom communities work. 

Abram Yost was a rookie cop in Almeada.  He rolled into Almeada on a Harley Softtail.  He found a duplex he liked and had his things shipped in.  He quickly got settled and reported to work.

After his interview with the Police Chief he’d been assigned an experienced officer as a partner to teach him the ropes.  They patrolled the city in the cruiser.  There wasn’t much happening that needed their attention.  So far all they’d had to deal with were a few traffic tickets and a couple of family disputes. 
Abram liked to talk so before long his partner knew everything there was to know about him.

“So how did you end up here in Almeada,” his partner inquired the first day.

“I’m from the Midwest,” Abram began filling him in.  “Born and raised there but my parents are deceased.  I was an only child and all my Aunts and Uncles have passed.”

“No reason to go back there,” he continued.  “I’ve got a lot of cousins, but the weather in the Midwest is like Germany’s, cold with snow.  So I applied to Texas for the police training course and looked for work here.”

“I took my equivalency of training course in Houston, and I liked it there; but they wouldn’t hire me.  I applied in Dallas, Houston, and several other big cities, but they all turned me down.  They told me they wanted people that had some “civilian” law enforcement experience under their belts.  So when Almeada offered me a position I took it”

“So we’re just a stepping stone,” his partner inquired.  “A place for you to get the required experience so you can move on to a bigger city.”

“Yep,” Adam admitted with a shrug.

“I figured as much,” his partner stated.

Within the next few days Abram told his partner that he was a retired Army MP and he’d spent most of his military time stationed in Germany.  He confided that he’d enlisted right out of high school. 

An Army recruiter had come to his high school to give a presentation.  Abram had taken German for four years and thought it would be great to enlist and get to go there.  He hadn’t wanted to go to college, he had no career plans, and he’d just broken up with my girlfriend.  He was ripe for adventure.  There were brochures on a table and he picked up the one for Military Police.  He’d fallen for the bait and enlisted. 
“How long were you in,” his partner inquired.

“15 years,” Abram told him

“Why not stick it out and get a retirement check?”

“I just got tired of being told what to do, I guess.  I want to find a good woman, settle down and raise a couple of kids,” he c onfided with a wistful smile.  “I want a nice house, with a white picket fence around the yard where my kids can play with a dog.” 

“Are you married?” he asked his partner.

“Naw, divorced!” his partner admitted.

“Being a police officer isn’t much better than being an MP,” his partner continued.  “While other people sleep and take holidays, we’re on duty.  That’s not the kind of life my wife wanted.  Luckily we didn’t have any kids.”

Abram was ethical, honest and he worked hard to stay professional.  He was surprised at the end of his second week when his partner told him to report to work the next day in jeans and a shirt instead of his uniform.

“What’s the deal, we going undercover?” he asked facetiously.

“No, we’re going to put in a sidewalk for the Chief at his house,” his partner informed him.

“Excuse me!” Abram exclaimed indignantly.  “I wasn’t hired to make sidewalks for the Chief.”

“If you want to keep your job you’d better suck it up,” his partner replied.

“And don’t even think about reporting it because the Chief is friends with the Governor.  He comes out every year to deer hunt on the Chief’s ranch.”

“So are you going to work on this sidewalk too?” Abram asked.

“There will be four of us.  The Chief wants the sidewalk poured out of concrete.  And he expects it to look professional. It’s his Christmas present to his wife.”

“But I don’t know a thing about pouring cement,” Abram objected.

“Well we’ll all just have to do the best we can.  We all have to play the Chief’s games to keep our jobs.”
Their conversation was interrupted when the radio on the cruiser announced a disturbance in progress. 


Chapter 2.          Assault With a Deadly Weapon

Larry Williams sat relaxed in his recliner with his feet up watching TV the last Saturday before Christmas.  His wife of seven years, Eloise, had hit the mall for some last minute gift shopping.  His eight year old step-son, Brad, was at a Boy Scout camp-out.  It was such an unseasonably warm December that the Scout Master wanted the boys in his troop to get outside and enjoy it.

Their Christmas tree was set up on a table in front of the picture window.  The table was draped with a long cloth so the presents underneath were hidden from view.  Larry hadn’t wanted the tree in front of the window, but that is where Eloise wanted it so he gave in.  He had to admit it did look pretty at night when you looked at the house from outside.  Eloise had sweet talked him into putting twinkle lights around the window too.  He’d adamantly refused to climb up a ladder and do the eaves of the house though. 

He glanced away from the TV at the Christmas tree and past it out the front window at front yard. 

“I guess I need to mow the yard again,” he thought to himself.  “The recent rain and warm weather sure has made it grow.”

He noticed the warm weather had also made the purple hyacinth think it was spring.  The plants which edged the yard were loaded with blossoms.

His eyes wandered over to the small utility trailer with the “For Sale” sign parked in a corner of the yard. 
Eloise had asked him to move the trailer off the front lawn.

“How am I going to sell it if people don’t see it and know it is for sale?” his thoughts continued.  “Why doesn’t she understand that I need to contribute to the family income, beyond handing over my Social Security check?  Making and selling trailers is my reason to get up every morning.”

Larry was retired.  Not because he wanted to be though.  He’d lost his construction job when the economy went south.  He didn’t want to work at a fast food restaurant or as a greeter at some discount store, so they were living on his small social security check and his wife’s salary as a hair dresser.  Larry supplemented their income by building trailers out of pickup beds and selling them. 

He searched the local green sheet for wrecked pickup trucks.  If the bed was good he’d buy the pickup and strip off the cab.  Sometimes if the engine was good he was able to sell it too, but most of the time everything but the bed went to the scrap yard.  He made the trailer by cutting the frame rails of the pickup and bending them to make the trailer tongue.  Getting the ends to meet square in the middle was a talent that had taken him some time to develop.  Once he got the two ends to meet properly, he welded a trailer hitch on the bed to turn it into a nice trailer.  He made pretty good money doing it.

This latest trailer was made from a small Datsun pickup.  It was bright red and it looked good even if he did say so himself.  He’d only parked it out front last week with a for sale sign on the side clearly marked $150.

His new neighbor down the street had stopped by and offered him $50 for it.  “That guy must be crazy,” Larry thought.  He’d met him and the women who lived with him when they moved in a few months previous.  The guy never gave his name and never introduced the woman as his wife. 

“That couple sure is strange,” Larry thought.  “The guy is big and mean-looking and a woman is thin to the point of being skinny.  She’s a timid little mouse.”
Larry had taken an instant dislike to the man.  He suspected he was a wife abuser.  Larry could remember only seeing the woman a couple of times after they moved in and that was only when she came out to retrieve the morning paper. 

“Guess the guy must do all the grocery shopping,” Larry thought to himself as he switched his attention back to the TV screen where there was a football game in progress.  Losing interest in the game he started flipping channels.  He stopped on a re-run of Gunsmoke.

He’d just about dozed off when movement in his front yard caught his eye.  He stayed relaxed in the recliner with his feet up and barely turned his head so he could focus in on the movement.

There was his neighbor again.  He was walking around the trailer looking it over.  Then he turned his head and looked this way and that in a furtive manner to see if anyone was watching him.  He glanced toward the picture window and Larry thought he made eye contact with the guy, but the window must have acted like a mirror.  The guy didn’t appear to see Larry sitting right there in his recliner watching him.
As Larry continued to watch the man he picked up the tongue of the trailer to test its weight.  He gave a tentative tug and the trailer moved.  The man glanced around again then started pulling the trailer out of the yard.

Larry flipped down the recliner foot rest and jumped to his feet.  He couldn’t believe the gall of this man.  Stealing his trailer in broad daylight!  Larry’s car was parked in the driveway, so he had to know he was home.

Larry quickly went into Brad’s bedroom and got the boy’s baseball bat out of the closet.  He burst out the front door brandishing the bat and yelling “Thief! Thief!”

The trailer bumped down over the curb onto the street nearly causing the man to lose his grip on the hitch and drop it.  The trailer was easier to pull now that it was on cement and it quickly gained momentum.

“Come back here!” Larry yelled as he took off in pursuit.  Larry ran past the trailer and swung the bat catching the thief in the middle of his back.  The thief went down hard directly in front of the trailer which promptly ran over his arm.


Chapter 3.          Abram’s First Arrest

Abram and his partner responded to the disturbance call.  When their cruiser rolled up they saw a group of people surrounding a small trailer in the middle of the street.

Seeing Larry standing with a bat over a man that lay writhing on the ground moaning and holding his arm, the two officers appraised the situation to be a case of assault.  Abram approached Larry and ordered him to drop the bat.  Larry quickly complied and Abram cuffed him even though Larry protested that the guy on the ground had been stealing his trailer.  Abram took the bat in as evidence.  His partner called for backup to take the injured man to the emergency room.

When he got off the radio the officer shoved Larry into the back of the cruiser and proceeded to take pictures of the trailer and the injured man in the street behind it. 

Larry sat in the back of the squad car with the cuffs jabbing into his back still in shock that he had been arrested for protecting his property.  He didn’t know whether to be glad Eloise wasn’t here to see this, or to wish she was there to help him through it.  He’d never been arrested in all of his 67 years!

When the second cruiser arrived, the four officers moved the trailer over to the curb in front of Larry’s house so traffic could get by in the street.  Then Abram and his partner took Larry off to jail, leaving the other two officers to deal with the victim.

“Why am I being arrested?” Larry demanded.  “Was I supposed to just let the guy steal my trailer?"

“Just shut up why don’t you,” Abram’s partner complained.

“You can’t assault people,” Abram told Larry.  “Even if they are stealing from you and especially if they are on the public street.”

The cruiser parked in front of the police station which was brightly decorated in Christmas Lights.  Abram helped Larry out of the cruiser and escorted him inside.  He took the cuffs off him and shoved him into a chair beside a desk.  Abram reached around the small Christmas tree on the desk and handed Larry the phone so he could make his one call. 

Larry rubbed his wrists while he considered what he was going to say to Eloise.  He was glad to get the cuffs off.  His arms were beginning to go to sleep.

Eloise was still at the mall when her cell phone rang, so she had no idea anything had happened.  She quickly sat down on a bench as her knees gave way when Larry told her that he’d been arrested for assaulting a man that was stealing their trailer. 

“Oh my God,” Eloise moaned into the phone.  “This can’t be happening.”

“Just get me a public defender, okay.  And don’t make bail.  They took the guy who was trying to steal the trailer to the emergency room.  Make sure they press charges against him for attempted theft.”

“You know,” she said reproachfully, “it would have been a whole lot cheaper just to have let him take the darn trailer!”

“Hug Brad for me, and tell him I love him.”  With nothing more to say, Larry hung up.  They led him through a doorway with a solid metal door into an office area where the jailer would sit.  They shoved him on through that office into an 8x10 area with three solid brick walls. The front wall consisted of metal bars, and had a door made of metal bars.  The floor was cement.  There were two sets of bunk beds inside, one attached to each wall.  If he wanted to sit, he’d have to sit on one of the bunks.  There was a stainless steel toilet and sink on the back wall.  On each bunk was a thin mattress and a folded blanket, but no pillows.

Larry was the only occupant.  He could have his choice of bunks.  He sat on a bottom bunk and massaged his still tingling arms.

Normally the jailer’s post was vacant because Almeada was a pretty quiet town and the jail cell was empty. 

“Guess you get to be the jailer,” Abram’s partner told him. 

Abram complained about having to be the jailer because that is what they expected him to do.  Actually he was happy for some time away from his partner, and he’d be off the sidewalk construction detail.  He turned away to hide a smile.

Abram was of average height, big boned but not overweight, and his eyes were dark brown.  At one time or another, his nose had been broken and it healed up crooked, which gave him the appearance of a boxer or a wrestler.

Larry eyed his jailer and decided against trying to chat with him.

Chapter 4.          Evan and Ava Go Volksmarching

Evan and his wife, Ava, headed up to San Angelo Saturday afternoon around 2pm to meet up with friends to do a Volksmarch.  This was a guided night walk to view the Christmas Lights along the Concho River and in downtown.  It was a 100 mile drive each way but the flyer promoting the walk claimed the lights would be beautiful and worth the trip. 

“I’m glad they are having this walk,” Ava chatted with her husband of 40 years.  “A lot of Volksmarch locations are repeated year after year.  I’m tired of doing the same old walk.  Since this is the first year they are holding this walk it is something new and different.”

Evan drove on the trip up.  His eyesight wasn’t good at night, so Ava would do the driving home.  They stopped on the way and had an early dinner, then met the Volksmarching club in the YMCA parking lot to get registered. 

After registering the walkers stood around visiting waiting for it to get dark.  The organizers told everyone to carry a flashlight so they could read the walk directions and the street signs in case they fell behind from the group.

Ava carried the flashlight and a camera.  Evan had a hand carved walking stick that he’d made.  A lot of people noticed and complimented him on the walking stick.  One elderly gentleman in particular was enchanted with the stick and asked to examine it.

“I understand you made this yourself.  Would you be interested in making several of these for me?” he asked.  “They wouldn’t have to all look exactly alike, but I’d like for you to put crystal door knobs on the top as a decoration.  Is that possible?”

“Well I’ve never tried that but I’m willing to experiment,” Evan said.  “Were you thinking they should all be the same color and length?”

“Whatever you make would be fine,” the man told him.  “Here let me give you my business card.  You can contact me and we will work out the details.”

The call to start walking was sounded and the walk guide led off.  The walkers fell in and soon they were strung out on the riverwalk along the Concho.

Evan and Ava were soon at the rear of the group because she stopped frequently to take pictures of the magical outdoor display of lights featuring the 12 Days of Christmas.  The colorful lights cast a nice reflection in the river. 

The Volksmarching club wasn’t the only ones out viewing the lights that last weekend before Christmas.  There were lines of cars slowing driving along the river.  There were even some stretch limos with dark windows which made you wonder who was inside.  There were also several horse drawn vehicles. 
There was a wagon with families sitting on hay bales and singing Christmas carols, an enclosed coach, and a white landau with Christmas lights decorating it.

The traffic was heavy and Ava and Evan got left behind when the group of walkers finished with the river section the walk and started uptown. 

Safely across the busy street they hurried to catch up as the saw the group in fron of the courthouse lawn.  Ava again stopped to take a picture of the nativity scene.  The walkers slowed down to enjoy the whimsical, patriotic, religious, traditional, and not so traditional Christmas displays in the storefronts.  Some of the more elaborate displays were animated.

At the half way point in the city park there was a checkpoint with hot apple cider and cookies.  By the time Ava, Evan and some other slow walkers arrived all the goodies were gone.  Since there were more walkers than there were benches to sit down on Ava made use of the break by walking around and recording pictures of the Volksmarchers.

It was 9pm by the time the Volksmarchers completed the six mile walk and returned to their cars in the YMCA parking lot.  There was a long line at the finish table as people got their books stamped.
Evan and Ava’s drive home was uneventful, but it was after midnight by the time they’d cleaned up and gone to bed.

Chapter 5.          Christine Does Jingle Bell Run

At 4pm that Saturday Ava and Evan’s oldest daughter, Christine, joined her friend Vera and 2,000 other participants that had gathered to register in the Jingle Bell Run.  The race wouldn’t start until 7pm.  It would take them that long to get everyone processed.

It was a lively crowd, some dressed as elves.  Just about everyone had on some type of bells.  There were bells on hats, necklaces, shoelaces and socks.  Even the dogs had bells on.
This wasn’t Christine’s first run by any means but it was her first Jingle Bell Run to raise money for the Arthritis Foundation.  Vera had talked her into doing the 5k even though Christine would never be able to keep up with her.

Christine brushed a strand of her dark blonde hair behind her ear but the strand of hair fell back into her face when she bent over to retie her shoelaces.  She stood up and started to pace.  She had a bad case of pre-race jitters.  Her dark blue eyes sought Vera’s for encouragement.

It was a beautiful evening for a run, and she wore jogging shorts and a Baylor t-shirt which showed off her trim figure.  She pinned on her number and pulled a pony tail band off her wrist.  Bending over from the waist she pulled her hair up into a pony tail. 

Christine and Vera joined the crowd in the starting area.  When the signal to go was given, there was a mad crush of people.  Vera dug in, and quickly made her way to the front of the pack, leaving Christine behind.  Christine lost sight of her as the pack thinned out.

Christine ran for about 10 minutes, and then jogged to a walk.  She walked for about 10 minutes until her breath came easily and then took off running again.  Sweat ran down her back.  Her heart was pounding in her chest. 

When the route went up along the aptly named “Ridge Street”, she was trying to jog up the hill when she stumbled and went down hard.  She was up like a shot, glad that no one was close by to see her go down.  She looked at her bleeding palm which had a nasty cut, and then at her badly scrapped knees.  Gamely, she started out again climbing the hill at a walk this time.  She was determined to finish the event. 

At the next checkpoint they wrapped gauze around her hand and put Neosporin on her scrapped knees while she swigged some bottled water.  Lots of runners passed by the checkpoint while she was there being given medical attention; so she knew she would be one of the last to finish the race.
She crossed the finish line in just under 40 minutes.  Vera was waiting for her in the refreshment tent were they had free beer/sodas and pizza for the runners.  There was a country music band playing loudly on a bandstand in one corner. 

Seeing her injuries, Vera offered to go with her to the emergency clinic.  Christine told her to stay and enjoy the celebration.  Luckily the wait at the emergency clinic was short.

“I’m glad I didn’t have a long wait,” Christine told the attending physician.

“Yes we’ve had a very slow day.  Our only other customer beside people with the Flu was a guy with a broken arm.  The police brought him in.  He was part of a fight and I guess he lost.”

“This is going to make it hard to type on the computer at work on Monday,” she commented as the man put six stitches into the base of her thumb and sent her on her way.

Chapter 6.          Marie & Lyle Go To Work

About the time the Jingle Bell Run started, Christine’s son Lyle and his fiancée Marie were fixing to eat dinner.

Marie was a small young woman with an olive complexion and sleek black hair that rested on her shoulders.  She’d just turned 21.  She had big expressive brown eyes fringed with long black lashes.  She was wearing a full western skirt that nearly hid her red cowboy boots. 

She was preparing them a pot of green enchilada soup for dinner using last night’s left over chicken which she’d cut up into bite size pieces, a couple cans of cream of chicken soup, a large can of green enchilada sauce, some mild jalapenos, a can of corn, and a can of black beans.  It was too thin so she’d whisk in some masa to thicken it.

She called for Lyle to come eat, and he yelled “Okay” as he tried to finish the game he was playing on the computer.  Lyle was wearing a western shirt with pearl snaps, jeans, and black cowboy boots.  He had shaggy blonde hair the same color as his mother’s and he had big blue eyes that were partially hidden behind round glasses.

Over dinner, Marie wanted to discuss Christmas plans with Lyle.  While she had been cooking she’d given the problem some thought.  “Lyle has his mother, Christine, and his grandparents on his Mom’s side to visit.  He isn’t in contact with his Dad and that side of the family so that was one less group to consider.”

“I’ve got my parents, four younger brothers, and two sets of grandparents to celebrate with.”  Marie was the only child not living at home, and she was the only daughter.  Her four brothers ranged in age from 17 to 7.  The youngest still pretended to believe in Santa Claus.

“This being a couple is a tricky business.” Marie thought.  “Both of us obviously want to be with our families for Christmas.” 

They had only been living together for a few months.  They had made it through Thanksgiving by eating lightly at two dinners.  Now they had to navigate the tricky waters of Christmas celebrations.

Marie’s family followed the Mexican tradition of setting up a nativity scene.  Lyle’s family followed the custom of putting up a Christmas tree.  So they had compromised and done both.

“Dinner is ready,” Marie called again and set the pot of soup on the hot pad in the center of the table.  She added a bag of Tortilla chips, and a small dish of chopped onions.  She didn’t care for onions herself, but she knew Lyle did.

Lyle abandoned the game without finishing it and turned off the computer.  He kissed her on the neck and sat down next to her at the kitchen table.  Their hound came running too, but Marie sternly ordered him out of the kitchen.  Head and tail down the dog laid down just outside the kitchen entry.  Putting his head on his paws he watched them attentively.

Tasting the soup, Lyle smiled at Marie.  “This is great.  I’m a lucky man to have such a beautiful woman that is a great cook!”

Marie looked affectionately across the table at the man she planned to marry one day.  Lyle had a tall lanky basketball player’s frame.  He was just a few months older than she was.  He was clean shaven, but had old fashioned long sideburns. 

“I’m the lucky one!” she replied.  “So how do you suggest we handle Christmas?  I can’t afford to eat two Christmas dinners, and both of our families open their gifts on Christmas morning.”

Lyle made a face and continued eating while he thought about the problem.  “We could volunteer to work Christmas at the Mortuary, and not spend Christmas with either,” he proposed only half joking.

Frowning Marie considered his suggestion.  “That’s not a bad idea,” she agreed.  We could spend the day before with your family and the day after with my family.  We’d open our gifts to each other here on Christmas morning.  We can’t afford gifts for anyone else yet anyway.”

Marie’s father owned Battistella’s Funeral Home.  Marie had been working there in the office since she was thirteen.  Marie had met Lyle in high school where they were in the same classes for chemistry and biology.  They had hit it off right away and dated regularly. 

Lyle knew her father owned the funeral home, and he knew that Marie worked there.  Even though she was pretty, a lot of the guys at school wouldn’t date her because of it, but Marie and Lyle often went out to movies.  When Marie told him she was applying for the mortuary science program at college, Lyle did too.  Once they graduated college they were both given apprenticeships at Battistella’s.  They had one more year as apprentices before they could become licensed.

“I’m not sure my parents will agree,” Marie said, “but since we work tonight, I’ll ask my dad and see.”

Lyle set his bowl and spoon in the sink and grabbed the dog’s leash.  “I’ll be right back,” he called as he opened the door to take the dog out for a walk, thereby escaping the dish detail. 

Chapter 7.          Gene Goes To Jail

Gene Autry looked at the clock.  It was 8pm.  He started getting ready to go out for a night of fun playing pool at the 8 Ball.  His parents disapproved of his hanging out at the pool hall, but Gene had retired from the Navy after 20 years and he was used to doing what he wanted to do.

As he stood under the warm water in the shower he recalled the last few weeks.  He’d only moved in with his parents until he could decide what he wanted to do with his life.

His dad was a building contractor and before going into the Navy, Gene had worked for him.  All during his high school years he’d worked clearing lots, helping to set up and pour concrete slabs, framing up the walls, and laying on asphalt shingles.  His dad wanted him to come back to work for him when he was discharged, but Gene knew for a fact that wasn’t what he wanted to do for a living. 

He remembered the gift his dad had given him for graduation.  After he’d crossed the stage and received his diploma, his Dad had pulled him aside and given him the bad news about college.

“I know you expect to go to college in the fall,” he said, “but we don’t have the money right now.  If you will stick around and work for me a couple of years, I might be able to send you on to college.”

Of course, Evan had planned on going to college.  He fought down his outburst of anger and swallowed his disappointment.  He stamped off to join the rest of the graduates.

That night while he lay on the bed, unable to sleep, he overheard his parents arguing again.  This time it was about him instead of another woman. His Mom was mad that his Dad had used his college fund to finance his latest subdivision development.

That is why he’d enlisted.  He was tired of hearing his parents arguing all the time.  He wished his Mom would just get a divorce.  He wasn’t going to work for his dad on the “chance” that he “might” pay for him to go to college.  He’d need to get away, and just like the Navy advertisement said, “See the world”.
Gene had felt sorry for his Mom the morning he left for boot camp in San Diego.  They were just sitting out on the patio enjoying a cup of coffee and feeding the squirrels. 

“Would you mind walking up to the corner store and getting me a couple packs of cigarettes?” she asked.

“Well I would do that, but I have to go in and pack a bag,” Gene replied casually.

“Why?” his Mom asked in surprise.

“I enlisted in the Navy and I have to report to boot camp.  The bus leaves at 11am.  Would you drive me to the Greyhound Station?”  Gene replied.

His Mom had tried to tell him he couldn’t enlist, but he was 19 and there wasn’t a thing she could do.  She didn’t believe him at first, and then she cried.

When Gene completed boot camp they sent him for training in diesel mechanics.  When he graduated that course they’d assigned him to work on the Liberty boats which were just open motorboats used to ferry the enlisted men from ship to shore. 

He’d worked himself up to Engineman 1st Class.  Hard as he tried he couldn’t make Warrant Officer.  Every time he was close, he’d get in trouble and get busted down a rank.  Then it would take him a year or so to get back to Engineman 1st Class.

With less than a year left to go, in spite of the fact he was a short-timer, Gene was assigned to ship out on the USS Andrea headed for a tour in the South Pacific.  He was in charge of the Liberty boats and the Captain’s Gig – the large cabin cruiser that officers used for transportation from ship to shore.  The engine on the USS Andrea’s Gig was a World War II engine.  It was completely worn out and needed to be rebuilt.  The parts for the engine had been on order for over six months already when Gene took over, but WWII engine parts were really hard to come by.  It could be another six month before they came in.
When the Andrea pulled into Hong Kong harbor to take on supplies, Gene and a couple of his crew went in search of a new diesel engine for the Gig.  The one they found was larger than what they needed but it was complete with transmission and all the parts.

Gene traded some of the ships supplies for the new engine.  It took most of the trip back stateside to change out the two engines.  When the Gig was lowered into the water the first time the weight of the larger engine nearly sank it.  Gene had two large wooden wedges made up and put one on each side.  After the sides were fixed the boat sat properly in the water.  Gene wasn’t happy with the speed of the Gig so he traded for a larger propeller.  He and his crew changed out the propellers several times before he was finally satisfied that the Gig was getting maximum speed.

The Gig was ready to go when the Andrea pulled into San Francisco Bay.  The Captain came to use the Gig to go ashore.  Gene was on duty so he was assigned as engineman on the Gig.  As they neared shore there was only one slot open on the pier.  There was an Admiral’s Barge headed toward that same spot.  The Gig’s crew decided to make it a race.  They kicked the Gig up into high gear and left the Admiral’s Barge in their wake.  The Admiral had to wait until the Captain landed and the Gig pulled away before he could land.

Gene smiled at the memory.  The whole crew had received an official reprimand from his Captain, but the Captain was smiling the whole time.  They knew he was proud that he had the best Gig in the whole fleet.

Gene stepped out of the shower and quickly toweled off.  He reviewed his recent job experiences.  His first job out of the Navy was selling used cars.  He wasn’t good at selling and couldn’t meet the quota, so he didn’t earn any commission.  The basic pay wasn’t enough to live on.

His second job had been at a chemical plant.  It paid good money, but it was a rotating shift which he didn’t like.  Plus they wanted him to work double shifts whenever someone called in sick.  Looking around at his co-workers he’d noticed a lot of the men had permanent injuries like a finger missing or chemical burn scars.  So he quit that job too.

Currently he was living off his parents, which he really hated (and his Dad did too since he wouldn’t work for him).  His first retirement check still hadn’t come in.  He’d used the pay for his 75 days of accumulated leave and put a down payment on a new Harley Electra Glide.  He knew he should have bought a used one, but you gotta follow your heart sometimes. 

Having his mom give him a little money for gas and other miscellaneous expenses was degrading.  He heaved an impatient sigh as he thought about not being able to give her a Christmas Gift.  That hurt.
Christmas just wasn’t a good time to be looking for work.  “Maybe I’ll go by the Community College when it opens back up after the holidays,” he reasoned.  “I could use my GI Bill to get some education.  Maybe I should take some computer classes.  Computer repair might be fun to learn.”

He slipped his legs into an old pair of Levis and pulled on an old high school t-shirt.  Slipping on his cowboy boots and grabbing his jean jacket, he flipped it over his shoulder as he bolted out the front door yelling, “Bye” to his parents without slowing down.

Even though he was 38, anyone seeing him might mistake him for a high school student.  The only give away was his military haircut which hadn’t grown out much yet.  He was like Dick Clark, ageless.
It wasn’t that far to the 8 Ball and he knew he’d be drinking so he didn’t hop on his Harley.  He just walked.  He strolled along enjoying the store fronts that were decorated with lights and an occasional Christmas tree.

There wasn’t much vehicle traffic on the streets and he was the only pedestrian.  He saw a dog cross the street up ahead and head toward some garbage cans that a small diner had set out on the curb.  The dog looked to be a half grown German Shepherd, and it stood quietly wagging its tail while he approached it. 

“Come here boy,” he called to it softly and it sat down and looked at him.  He walked over to it slowly and reached out and let it sniff his hand before he rubbed its ears.  He felt around its neck for a collar and didn’t find one. 

“You’re way too nice not to belong to someone fella,” Gene told the dog.

It was obviously hungry, and he wasn’t carrying any food.  The lids were on the trash can tightly, so he helped the dog get a meal by quietly taking off a lid and laying the can on its side. 

If there wasn’t any noise, the diner owner wouldn’t come out and chase the dog away. 

“Happy hunting,” Gene said and he continued on his way.

When Gene arrived at the 8 Ball there was one pool table with a dollar game going, so he grabbed a Lone Star at the bar and watched for awhile. 

The 8 Ball was your standard pool hall.  It was an old brick building with plate glass windows facing the street.  It had a gray tile floor.  It had eight Brunswick pool tables with smooth green felt over slate.  There were eight regular tables and chairs scatted about.  Down one side was a bar with eight barstools.  The owner had a thing about the number eight.  He called it his lucky number.

The bartender brought him another Lone Star and pointed out men sitting at the table next to the pool table where the dollar game was being played.  The men were blocking that side of the table, so the shooters could only use one side and the ends.

“Don’t mess with those men,” the bartender whispered.  “The younger one just got out of jail and the older one was his dad.  They are looking for trouble tonight.”

The younger man got up from the table to play the next game, and he won.  Gene was in the rotation to play the winner so he selected a pool cue and broke.  He managed to run the table for a couple of shots.  Then he missed a bank shot off the rail.  He lightly chalked his stick while the other guy put two balls into the pocket.  The guy wiped his hands on his jeans while he considered his next shot.  He aimed too low and the cue ball hopped instead of rolling. 

Trying not to be over confident, Gene went back and finished off the remaining balls to win the game. 
The guy wasn’t a good loser.  He refused to pay up the dollar and went to sit down in the chair next to his father.  Gene followed him around the table and made a grab at his shoulder. 

The man turned around and swung on him.  Gene took the man down to the floor and kneeling on his chest told him to pay up the dollar.  The bouncer grabbed Gene and tried to haul him outside. 
The loser got in a couple of good shots at Gene’s ribs while the bouncer held him.  Soon everyone had joined the brawl.  The bar bouncer and the police finally broke up the altercation, but Gene and several others were detained.

Gene was taken to Almeada City Jail because he had a clean record with no prior arrests.  The other participants of the fight had been shipped over to County Jail because they had a laundry list of prior charges.

When Gene arrived at the Almeada jail they let him call his parents.  He knew he was in trouble when his Dad took the call. 

“I’m NOT bailing you out.” his Dad told him coldly.  “You brought this on yourself hanging out at that pool hall.  You have disgraced this family.”

That his Dad would turn his back on him didn’t surprise Gene.  The wave of anger he felt helped clear the alcoholic haze.  He slammed down the phone and they escorted him back to the holding cell.

Chapter 8.          The Jail Fills Up

“We’ve got another customer for you,” the officer said.

Abram retrieved the keys from the hook and opened the cell so they could put Gene inside.

“Turning out to be a busy day,” Abram said.

Gene stood in the middle of the cell. Now that he was beginning to sober up he could feel some sore spots along his ribs.  He rubbed his face and found a knot rising on his forehead.  He probed it gently and considered asking for some ice to put on it.  He made eye contact with the man already in the cell.  He didn’t look dangerous.  He nodded in acknowledgement and lay down on the bunk opposite.

“Hi, my name is Larry,” Larry told the young man they stuck in the cell with him.  “You waiting for someone to make bail for you?”

“No,” Gene responded gruffly.  “I’ve already had my call and my Dad refused to bail me out.”

“Not married, huh!  I’ve never been arrested in all my life before.  I told my wife not to bail me out.  We don’t have much cash anytime, but here at Christmas we are really strapped.”  Gene didn’t respond so Larry continued.

“I’ve been married seven years now.  I met my wife during a jury trial that I was testifying at.  She was on the jury, and I thought she was the prettiest woman I ever saw.”

Gene didn’t’ respond so Larry continued as if to himself.

“The case I was testifying on was a traffic accident.  It was almost 10 years ago.  I was driving to work on a one way street.  It was this same time of year.  Cold as everything.  I saw a car start to back out of a driveway up ahead but I had plenty of distance so I didn’t hit the brakes.  The car backed out of the driveway into the middle lane, by then there was a bunch of us coming up on it.  The car had started forward when the car along side of me plowed right into the back of it.  I went around the block and came back.  I pulled up and put on my flashers.  It was a lady driving the car that backed out.  She looked to be okay, but her car sure wasn’t.  I gave her my name and address and told her to call me if her insurance company wanted a witness.”

“So they must have gone to trial over it,” Gene said, interested in spite of himself.

“Yes, the guy who rear-ended her car was trying to get out of it.  So I was called to testify.  The defense lawyer would ask me questions, and then wouldn’t let me answer.  He kept saying, ‘just answer yes or no’, but he wasn’t asking yes and no questions to my way of thinking.”
“That attorney entered a picture of the area of the accident into the court records.  Then he showed me the picture and he asked me how I or anyone could have seen the car backing out.  His picture was taken in the summer when there were leaves on the trees.  It happened in winter, those trees were bare, and that’s what I told him too.”

“So how did you meet your wife?” Gene sounded genuinely interested.

“I didn’t actually talk to her during the trial.  One day I went into this shop to get a haircut and there she was.  She was nice and we’d talk.  She remembered me from the trial.  She was married then.  I kept going to her to get my hair cut, and she started showing.  She was pregnant.  She and her husband weren’t getting along though.  Wasn’t long before they split up.  The guy just up and left her before the baby was born.”

“What a jerk,” Gene said, sitting up to better carry on the conversation.

“I kept going in to get my haircut and she came back from pregnancy leave and put up some pictures on her mirror of this cute baby boy.  Her boy was about 6 months old when I finally worked up enough nerve to ask her out.  Six months later we were married.”

“Well I hope everything works out for you,” Gene said.  He lay down and rolled over hoping that Larry would take his back turned to him as a sign to quit talking.