| General Fiction posted May 3, 2024 | Chapters: |
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One day at a time
A chapter in the book Right in the Eye
Right in the Eye, ch 19
by Wayne Fowler
In the last part Ben and Sylvia exchanged memories with Oroville Johnston. Sylvia talked Ben into letting her drive him to Cerrilos. The pimp of the girl in the hotel threatened Ben and Sylvia in her home.
^^^^^^^^^^^^
“So, like father, like son. You Personses just can’t help yourselves from rescuing wayward women,” Sylvia said.
Ben smiled.
“You think he’ll be back?”
“He won’t want to give up those dogs. And he won’t stop disliking me, or you either, now that you’ve shot up his Jeep.”
“If we leave, he’s likely to burn the house down,” Sylvia said.
Ben nodded. “I think my father would be praying for direction right now.”
“The sheriff is down to Spar City. A probable arson on a mountaintop cabin. It was vacant.” Sylvia had called the sheriff’s number, but let the receiver hang while she got her shotgun and blasted the lights. After the Jeep drove away, she’d gone back to the phone and spoken with the sheriff’s wife. She promised to send him when he again made radio contact. “It might be an hour, or so,” she told Ben.
“Well, why don’t you reload that thing and I’ll sit up and wait. Watch and wait.”
Sylvia looked at him through squinting eyes. “Like I’d just go to sleep?” She chuckled. “We’ll both sit up. We already know he can use matches.”
“But he won’t burn up his dogs.”
“Prob’ly not,” Sylvia agreed. “Think they need water?”
“Nah, but it wouldn’t hurt anything to show them that we’re friendly.”
They went to the back door to see what they could do for the dogs.
“Well, that answers whether he can be stealthy,” Ben said, stepping aside to let Sylvia see that the dogs were gone. “The ropes are gone too, so they didn’t just escape.”
“I’d say our boy is sneaky,” Ben said. “I’ll watch the back.” He settled into a kitchen chair, waving for Sylvia to watch the front.
Both of them startled at a knock on the door several minutes later.
“I’ll blow a hole right through that door!” Sylvia said loud enough for the knocker to hear.
“Sylvia, Ben, it’s me, Oroville.”
After letting him in, he told the story. “Alice radioed the volunteers while you were shootin’ up your neighborhood. I parked down the road a bit. I’m here for the night. Somebody else will relieve me in the morning. ‘Til whoever it is, is caught.”
Ben and Sylvia looked to one another.
“Well, can’t say we don’t appreciate it.” She’d already resolved not to argue. “He’s quiet and sneaky. Got back here within minutes of us running him off to untie and get his dogs that were keeping us from going out the back.”
“What was he driving?” Oroville asked.
“A Jeep,” Ben answered. “White.”
“With four shattered lights,” Sylvia added.
“I think I saw it while I was comin’ over here. Didn’t know what to look for. Woulda come here anyway. I’m glad you didn’t disable it, really. Even if you were able to shoot him, he might’ve been able to hurt you. You know, shootin’ in the dark at a moving target.”
Oroville’s attempt to temper his doubt of Sylvia’s shooting abilities was accepted with nods by both Sylvia and Ben.
“Well… you want a piece a’ pie?” Sylvia asked.
Oroville smiled. “And coffee? Might be a long night.”
At 3:30 Sylvia gave it up and went to bed. Ben and Oroville talked Ben Persons stories. When Oroville’s replacement came, Ben had been asleep in a living room chair for some time. He woke only to the sound of Sylvia’s voice from the kitchen asking Marion, Oroville’s replacement, if he’d like a piece of pie.
“The sheriff will be by in a little while,” Sylvia said, seeing Ben rouse. “I talked to him on the phone. He thinks he might know who it was, but a lot of people have Jeeps that they leave at home, using other vehicles for every day.”
Sheriff Tate arrived just as Ben and Sylvia finished cleaning the kitchen of their breakfast dishes.
“Still have a problem,” Tate said. Turning to the day’s guard, another firefighter volunteer, he said, “Was your windshield shattered when you drove it last?”
The man looked startled, shaking his head. “Naw, Sheriff.”
“Didn’t think so, what with glass on the hood and in the wiper blades. Be hard to drive like it is.
Looks like the boys mighta saved you another visit. Only this one woulda been in daylight. What time you get here?” Sheriff Tate asked Marion.
It was after daybreak.
“Here’s the way it lays,” Sheriff Tate started, squaring himself to Ben and Sylvia, his thumbs tucked into his service belt. “We’re not gonna be able to protect you, not absolute. A rifle, even a shotgun from any distance, a person could pepper this place and scoot off without ever bein’ seen. A person with a kid’s toy could put a stick of dynamite through a window.”
Marion was nodding his head in agreement.
“My advice is for the both of you to be absent until we catch this guy. Any idea who it is?”
Ben felt the question a bit late, but didn’t say anything other than to repeat what the man had said himself, indicating he was the unconscious girl’s pimp.
Sheriff Tate nodded his head. “If you wouldn’t mind, both of you, write down whatever you can remember and drop it off at my office on your way out of town. Check in with me when you get where yer goin’, an’ we’ll git this varmit.”
Marion nodded agreement.
Ben and Sylvia exchanged looks.
“We’ll pack Sylvia’s important things and be on the road by noon,” Ben said.
Sylvia smiled. “I’m nearly already packed,” Sylvia said, winking toward Ben.
+++
Sylvia was no slouch behind the wheel, but there was little she could do when a black Suburban contacted her left front fender and forced her off the road. Before Ben could get properly balanced outside his door, a 300-pounder of a man cut his legs from under him and laid his knee on Ben’s stomach, making breathing difficult. Another man approached, slamming Ben’s door shut, watching Sylvia to make sure she didn’t pull out a gun.
The 300-pounder spoke to Ben. “The one what owns that girl? We own him. And a lot more. You didn’t see nothin’. Mr. Old Timer Do-gooder. You don’t know nothin’. Capice? Verstehe? Comprende voo? Got it?”
Ben could only nod.
“Say it! Tell me you got the message.”
Ben grunted a guttural yes, hardly any breath behind it, but good enough for the two thugs. As the 300-pounder rounded Sylvia’s car for the Suburban, the other man shot the right rear tire of Sylvia’s car.
Coming to Ben’s aid, Sylvia asked, “You think your father had this much trouble following his calling?”
After three deep breaths, Ben answered, “I haven’t been shot, beaten, or whipped yet.” He smiled, accepting Sylvia’s whole-body hug.
“My spare’s flat. I couldn’t ever catch Pete at his shop to fix it.
Ben looked at the bullet-flattened tire. “Well, we might just as well put on the flashers. I’ll open the hood. Someone will stop and take us and the spare where we can get it fixed.
While in town, they made a report to the County Sheriff’s office.
In the last part Ben and Sylvia exchanged memories with Oroville Johnston. Sylvia talked Ben into letting her drive him to Cerrilos. The pimp of the girl in the hotel threatened Ben and Sylvia in her home.
^^^^^^^^^^^^
“So, like father, like son. You Personses just can’t help yourselves from rescuing wayward women,” Sylvia said.
Ben smiled.
“You think he’ll be back?”
“He won’t want to give up those dogs. And he won’t stop disliking me, or you either, now that you’ve shot up his Jeep.”
“If we leave, he’s likely to burn the house down,” Sylvia said.
Ben nodded. “I think my father would be praying for direction right now.”
“The sheriff is down to Spar City. A probable arson on a mountaintop cabin. It was vacant.” Sylvia had called the sheriff’s number, but let the receiver hang while she got her shotgun and blasted the lights. After the Jeep drove away, she’d gone back to the phone and spoken with the sheriff’s wife. She promised to send him when he again made radio contact. “It might be an hour, or so,” she told Ben.
“Well, why don’t you reload that thing and I’ll sit up and wait. Watch and wait.”
Sylvia looked at him through squinting eyes. “Like I’d just go to sleep?” She chuckled. “We’ll both sit up. We already know he can use matches.”
“But he won’t burn up his dogs.”
“Prob’ly not,” Sylvia agreed. “Think they need water?”
“Nah, but it wouldn’t hurt anything to show them that we’re friendly.”
They went to the back door to see what they could do for the dogs.
“Well, that answers whether he can be stealthy,” Ben said, stepping aside to let Sylvia see that the dogs were gone. “The ropes are gone too, so they didn’t just escape.”
“I’d say our boy is sneaky,” Ben said. “I’ll watch the back.” He settled into a kitchen chair, waving for Sylvia to watch the front.
Both of them startled at a knock on the door several minutes later.
“I’ll blow a hole right through that door!” Sylvia said loud enough for the knocker to hear.
“Sylvia, Ben, it’s me, Oroville.”
After letting him in, he told the story. “Alice radioed the volunteers while you were shootin’ up your neighborhood. I parked down the road a bit. I’m here for the night. Somebody else will relieve me in the morning. ‘Til whoever it is, is caught.”
Ben and Sylvia looked to one another.
“Well, can’t say we don’t appreciate it.” She’d already resolved not to argue. “He’s quiet and sneaky. Got back here within minutes of us running him off to untie and get his dogs that were keeping us from going out the back.”
“What was he driving?” Oroville asked.
“A Jeep,” Ben answered. “White.”
“With four shattered lights,” Sylvia added.
“I think I saw it while I was comin’ over here. Didn’t know what to look for. Woulda come here anyway. I’m glad you didn’t disable it, really. Even if you were able to shoot him, he might’ve been able to hurt you. You know, shootin’ in the dark at a moving target.”
Oroville’s attempt to temper his doubt of Sylvia’s shooting abilities was accepted with nods by both Sylvia and Ben.
“Well… you want a piece a’ pie?” Sylvia asked.
Oroville smiled. “And coffee? Might be a long night.”
At 3:30 Sylvia gave it up and went to bed. Ben and Oroville talked Ben Persons stories. When Oroville’s replacement came, Ben had been asleep in a living room chair for some time. He woke only to the sound of Sylvia’s voice from the kitchen asking Marion, Oroville’s replacement, if he’d like a piece of pie.
“The sheriff will be by in a little while,” Sylvia said, seeing Ben rouse. “I talked to him on the phone. He thinks he might know who it was, but a lot of people have Jeeps that they leave at home, using other vehicles for every day.”
Sheriff Tate arrived just as Ben and Sylvia finished cleaning the kitchen of their breakfast dishes.
“Still have a problem,” Tate said. Turning to the day’s guard, another firefighter volunteer, he said, “Was your windshield shattered when you drove it last?”
The man looked startled, shaking his head. “Naw, Sheriff.”
“Didn’t think so, what with glass on the hood and in the wiper blades. Be hard to drive like it is.
Looks like the boys mighta saved you another visit. Only this one woulda been in daylight. What time you get here?” Sheriff Tate asked Marion.
It was after daybreak.
“Here’s the way it lays,” Sheriff Tate started, squaring himself to Ben and Sylvia, his thumbs tucked into his service belt. “We’re not gonna be able to protect you, not absolute. A rifle, even a shotgun from any distance, a person could pepper this place and scoot off without ever bein’ seen. A person with a kid’s toy could put a stick of dynamite through a window.”
Marion was nodding his head in agreement.
“My advice is for the both of you to be absent until we catch this guy. Any idea who it is?”
Ben felt the question a bit late, but didn’t say anything other than to repeat what the man had said himself, indicating he was the unconscious girl’s pimp.
Sheriff Tate nodded his head. “If you wouldn’t mind, both of you, write down whatever you can remember and drop it off at my office on your way out of town. Check in with me when you get where yer goin’, an’ we’ll git this varmit.”
Marion nodded agreement.
Ben and Sylvia exchanged looks.
“We’ll pack Sylvia’s important things and be on the road by noon,” Ben said.
Sylvia smiled. “I’m nearly already packed,” Sylvia said, winking toward Ben.
+++
Sylvia was no slouch behind the wheel, but there was little she could do when a black Suburban contacted her left front fender and forced her off the road. Before Ben could get properly balanced outside his door, a 300-pounder of a man cut his legs from under him and laid his knee on Ben’s stomach, making breathing difficult. Another man approached, slamming Ben’s door shut, watching Sylvia to make sure she didn’t pull out a gun.
The 300-pounder spoke to Ben. “The one what owns that girl? We own him. And a lot more. You didn’t see nothin’. Mr. Old Timer Do-gooder. You don’t know nothin’. Capice? Verstehe? Comprende voo? Got it?”
Ben could only nod.
“Say it! Tell me you got the message.”
Ben grunted a guttural yes, hardly any breath behind it, but good enough for the two thugs. As the 300-pounder rounded Sylvia’s car for the Suburban, the other man shot the right rear tire of Sylvia’s car.
Coming to Ben’s aid, Sylvia asked, “You think your father had this much trouble following his calling?”
After three deep breaths, Ben answered, “I haven’t been shot, beaten, or whipped yet.” He smiled, accepting Sylvia’s whole-body hug.
“My spare’s flat. I couldn’t ever catch Pete at his shop to fix it.
Ben looked at the bullet-flattened tire. “Well, we might just as well put on the flashers. I’ll open the hood. Someone will stop and take us and the spare where we can get it fixed.
While in town, they made a report to the County Sheriff’s office.
Ben P. Persons: 81-year-old son of Ben Persons
Sylvia Adams: grand-daughter of Livvy and William Ferlonson
Oroville Johnston: Arville's Creede resident grandson
Slim Goldman (Herschell Diddleknopper): miner who Ben (senior) rescued in 1886
Mary Diddleknopper: Slim's wife, great-granddaughter of LouAnne (Slim's girlfriend from the1870s)
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. Sylvia Adams: grand-daughter of Livvy and William Ferlonson
Oroville Johnston: Arville's Creede resident grandson
Slim Goldman (Herschell Diddleknopper): miner who Ben (senior) rescued in 1886
Mary Diddleknopper: Slim's wife, great-granddaughter of LouAnne (Slim's girlfriend from the1870s)
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