Depression by cmsix

Chapter 4

We put off messing with the camera until breakfast was over and most of the coffee was gone. I noticed that Chris, the taxidermist, hadn't caught on to the proper feeding times yet; that was his loss. Then again, he had a wife and maybe he liked her cooking, or something.

Bob, George, and I went into the office and Bob showed me how to hook the camera to his computer to get the pictures off. There was a special connection for it and as soon as he plugged it in, something popped up on the screen and then smaller versions of the pictures started showing up. Bob called them thumbnails.

When he clicked on one, it blew up to take in the whole screen and it was easy to tell that these shots showed up better than a picture taken in the dark had any right to. He did something else with his mouse and the color laser printer started making noise.

When the pictures came out, they weren't nearly as good as the others he'd printed. I wasn't going to say anything about it, but he started explaining that the color laser printer wasn't the photo quality one he'd used before. Maybe I'd learn something after all if I kept hanging around long enough.

We went right out and showed them to Ethel and she was probably more surprised than I'd been.

"You took these last night in the moonlight?" she asked.

"Sure did."

"You could probably make a good livin' up at the Wooden Indian about closing time every night. Take pictures of who's leaving with who and there's no tellin' how much you could make on blackmail," she said, laughing just a little.

"I believe I'll just stick to poker if I need money. The other guys at the table hardly ever shoot you, even when you win," I said.

"Just the same, don't lose that thing. I might need you to keep up with where George sneaks around to at night," she said, and laughed louder this time.

"What are you talkin' 'bout Ethel. I'll bet I haven't been out of your sight after dark for fifteen minutes total in the last thirty years," George said, laughing himself now, along with everybody else.

"Maybe, but momma told me not to let you roam far after sunset," she said.

"She told me she told you that, and it's why I always make sure you know where I am at nighttime," George said.

"And all these years I thought you were just scared of the dark," Ethel said, and everyone howled.

"Where's Chris, your new man?" I asked.

"He still has to help out at the woodyard, until he gets the new fellow trained for everything. That could take a while too, since they hired a Log Truck Driver to take his place," Ethel said.

"Now Ethel, that ain't nice. Some of those drivers are ok," George said.

"They get some pretty good ones during the high part of the cycle, but they've swung low right now," Ethel said.

"What cycle?" I asked.

"The boom or bust cycle. The paper mill keeps it stirred up, mostly by outsmarting themselves. They try to regulate things with the price they pay for pulpwood, but they can't get it right.

"They were buying hell out of pulpwood for the last three years and acted like they couldn't get enough. Last year they finally got their big woodyard, across the road from the mill, filled up, and quit buying.

"All the loggers that had been going good got their quotas cut to nothing. Probably more than half of the woods crews and truck drivers damn near starved to death last summer. The slow down cut their throats right when they needed to be puttin' money back to keep up their truck and equipment payments during the rainy months. The Western Star and Mack dealers in Texarkana will have their lots full of repoed trucks before Christmas.

"Just wait, by February the Domino mill will be paying them to haul timber down from Pine Bluff again, like they had to six years ago. The freight will cost nearly as much as the timber. They'll have a new manager at the paper mill before long, and the poor bastard who thought he knew how to run the place will be out looking for a job," George said.

"You talk like it's about to make you cry over the poor men out of work. You know you've been hoping Calderson would go broke so you could pick up the four thousand acres of timberland he bought right next to us. There ain't a chance in hell he can stay current now, and he hasn't cut the first damned log off it," Bob said.

"It is sad, and there's more. He won't get a chance to cut any. The repo man came after his sawhead and delimber last week," George said, looking hang dog for a couple of seconds and then laughing out loud.

"I still don't know what you wanted with four thousand more acres, and almost all of it in timber," Ethel said.

"Why it's for Chuck and Dave."

"Chuck and Dave don't want any timber," Ethel said.

"Not now they don't, but we can sell the timber about the time they finish college. That'll be enough money so each of 'em can afford a big tittied wife, like their grampa and daddy both got," George said, and the noise started.

Wanda squealed and then started giggling, and a blush crept up from the big titties George mentioned, climbing her throat and onto her cheeks.

Bob just about lost his breath laughing, and Ethel started slapping George on the closest shoulder, doing her best not to laugh but losing the battle. Finally, I was the only one that managed not to laugh out loud but even I was grinning like a fool.

"Bob, you and John take this old fool outside and let him clean out a few stalls or something else that might be useful. Wanda and I need to start thinking about dinner," Ethel said, but she wasn't through.

"And you, George, you'd better watch your mouth or you'll end up with your ass in a crack," she said.

"That's what I was hoping for all along," he said, and nearly ran for the door.

When we were outside, and after we got our breath back from more laughter over George's last joke to Ethel, Bob asked George if he'd been serious about what he was planning on for the timber land we'd been talking about.

"Sure, the bank got stuck with it and they're not about to sell it to anyone without a hell of a lot more security this time, and you know they can't just keep it.

"I guess they could cut the timber, but after the proceeds paid off the note they'd have to give anything left over to the Davis boy, so they can't gain a damned thing by doing that.

"In fact, I happen to know they always try to get out of loaning money into the timber business but just couldn't keep from letting him have the money for that tract.

"Everything else is going great for the bank now, and if they lose a hundred thousand or so on the land it won't even hurt 'em. They're just happy they got out of the truck and logging equipment financing business after the last bust.

"Hell, they've been coining money since the savings and loans all went tits up. They're practically slobbering to sell me the land because they know I can back up the loan with cash in CDs. Don't tell your momma yet, but it's already a done deal.

"I didn't buy his loan, I made them cut me a new deal and I secured it with the CDs. It'll only cost me half a percent over what the CDs pay. Calderson is out the hundred thousand that he had to pay down and all the payments he made for two years.

"I made 'em work to get me to buy it too. They refigured the original loan and gave me credit against the principal for every cent Calderson paid, instead of the interest eating up damn near all he gave 'em."

"How in the hell did you do that?" Bob asked.

"There are laws about how long they can keep collateral from a non-performing loan before they have to turn it into cash and admit the loss on anything the sale doesn't take care of.

"With the condition of the timber market now, the bank would have been fucked up the ass selling that tract at auction. Who 'round here has four million in cash to pay for it?

"He only paid a few thousand more than I'd offered for it in the first place. Now, two years later, I'm getting it for two hundred thousand less than he paid and at a percent and a half less interest than he was paying.

"By the time the note's paid I'll be nearly six hundred thousand ahead, counting the saved interest, and that don't count what I save on taxes or the interest my money earns while it's locked into "jumbo" CDs," George said, finishing his lesson in redneck finance one oh one.

"Why you thieving old scoundrel. We were gonna buy it in the first place just for the tax money it'd save us," Bob said.

"See thar, there's still something yo po old daddy can teach you 'bout suckin' eggs," George said, laughing again.

I was amazed myself, and I couldn't keep from asking George what in the hell he was doing with four million cash in CDs in a bank.

"What else was I gonna do with it? My daddy told me, when I earned my first quarter, "Son," he said, "Don't never bet your money on another man's trick."

"I know the big shots play the stock market and make big investments, but I don't know shit about that. I know how to make money raising and selling horses and cattle; that's what I do, and mostly all I do.

"I ain't about to fool around buying stocks and crap like that. I could have made the ranch bigger and probably made more money, but I'm already workin' as hard as I want to at this late date.

"Bob's taking care of most everything now, and I don't know of a thing he's thought of to buy that we haven't.

"Lots of people think we're just hicks that lucked into our money and are too stupid to invest it, but I think we do all right. I've read some books about business and one of them really sounded a nice clean note for me.

"The Peter Principle," he said, "Some of it wasn't much to write home about, but I took part of it to heart. I can't quote it exactly, but I got the message. When you get to where you've got control over all you can handle, don't go no higher. It might not work in every business, but it's worked for me.

"This one ranch is about all I can handle, and it makes money every year. To me it ain't right when people say if you ain't growing, you're shrinking. We make money every year, and after a while, it just adds up," George said.

"Not to mention that profit on the house you sold me," I said, thinking I was making a joke.

"Hell, that probably counts as one of the best deals I ever made. I got the house free; it was on a couple of hundred acres I'd made my mind up to buy anyhow. I had Ethel look it up and we've had the house twenty-two years and spent a total of seven hundred dollars on it over those years, all of it depreciated off years ago.

"When I sold you that place it was almost like I found ten thousand dollars on the ground. Worth more than money is how happy it made Ethel when she found out you could get rid a some of the critters that's been botherin' us. Hell, I could go on and on about how well I come out on you," George said.

"Say what you want to, but I still think I got the best end of the deal," I said.

"That's what's so hard for you young'uns to learn, how to make the other guy think he got the best of the deal, when it was really you that did," George said, laughing again, and Bob and I joined in after a second.

"That is a good deal then, me and you are both happy about it, and I don't see how it could get any better," I said.

We broke up then, Bob and George to go off and act like they were busy, and me to go home where I didn't even have to do that. I wanted to take a late night ride tonight and see how I could deal with my new gear from horseback.

It all worked great one at a time on the ground, but I had to figure out a way to have both the smaller binoculars, and the big ones with the camera ready at the same time and ride Joe Bob in the process. I'd need the small ones to see where the hell I was going and the large ones to take pictures, and both needed to be handy pretty much all the time.

I knew I'd never be able to use the big ones for finding my way because they were too heavy to hold up with one arm for long, and I needed a hand to use on the reins every now and then.

I saddled Joe Bob for a short ride. He was so damned smart I figured maybe I could guide him with my legs and feet and by changing my seat around.

After a few minutes of just riding around to get him warmed up, I gave it a try. Hell, he did almost exactly what I wanted him to from the start, even after I let go of the reins. It dawned on me then that George had told me Joe Bob was trained for reining competition.

I know it sounds contrary, but a reining horse is trained to mostly take cues from anything the rider does and the reins are the least of them. Joe Bob's cues weren't as complex as some I'd heard of, but he would turn left from inward pressure of my right leg, and vice versa.

I could control his speed with subsequent nudges of my heels, almost like a car's automatic transmission. One nudge was to walk, the next one moved him to a trot, and the next was for a gallop. He even had sense enough, or was well trained enough, not to use his fancy little fast walk or the smooth, almost rolling slow lope from these signals.

Neither of those gaits would sit well with a Quarter Horse show judge, so I guessed that the trainer had made sure he wouldn't cycle through them. He did do a perfect sliding stop from his gallop when I pressed both feet straight down on the stirrups.

That cured most of my problems, and I found that I could keep up with both sets of binoculars by the lanyards that let me hang them around my neck, I just had to keep the big ones around on my back until I needed them. I could pull them around to take a picture and then let them slide around to rest on my back.

All this good news didn't mean it wasn't going to be complicated, especially while I was riding at night and might need either the Marlin or the Mauser at any time. It put most of the burden on me though, and a little practice should let me work out a system; it wasn't life or death anyway. If I fumbled the ball, I'd just miss a shot, and I'd probably at least have a picture of the one that got away.

It's a good thing horses can't talk, cause I know Joe Bob would have been asking me what I was up to. We mostly rode around behind my house, off one way and then the next, into the pasture. We started, stopped, turned, walked, trotted, galloped, and then some. He could tell every time I fumbled with the binoculars, or pulled out a rifle and I'm sure he figured the roping would come next, though I never tried that.

We farted around for nearly four hours while I tried to get my system down. Finally, I thought I had a handle on it and we went to the barn. Jasper and Jeffry both made small snorts when we got back inside.

No doubt it was a mule laugh at Joe Bob for the things I'd been making him do. All of them still had plenty of hay and I put a big scoop of whole oats in their feed troughs and another one of wheat bran for good measure; then it was off to the house for me for some food of my own.

I hadn't had a good excuse to go back to George's house for more of Ethel's cooking and it was too late for that anyway. I cooked up a big steak, warmed a can of Ranch Style Beans in a pan with a can of Wolf Brand Chili and then poured it on top of the steak and had a good lunch.

I intended to go and give my night vision stuff a try after it was good and dark, so I toed off my boots and lay down for a nap.

I slept longer than I'd intended and didn't wake up until one AM. There was still time to prowl around a little though, so I took the gear back out to the barn and saddled Joe Bob. I'd learned my lesson last time, so Jasper and Jeffry got some attention of their own. They didn't have anything to tote on the way out, but I hoped I'd need them to carry some dead critters back.

When we left, I put the binoculars up to my eyes. For the first time in my life, while riding at night, I felt that I could see better than the horse. There wasn't much of a moon by now but I didn't have a bit of trouble seeing. I even fished the camera rig around from my back and took a few shots of nothing really. I was just trying it out.

I was going to put the camera thing down after a last shot when I caught a tiny gleam out under some bushes. I pressed down on Joe Bob's stirrups and he stopped at once with Jasper and Jeffry stopping a step later.

I concentrated on the bush I'd seen the gleam from under and couldn't see anything but bush. I remembered that the binocular part had variable power so I moved it to its highest. I could barely make out a small bobcat hiding under the bush, and I was tickled. I took a quick picture and then let the camera back down to reach for the Mauser.

It was a good plan, and it should have worked, but those little cats aren't dumb. I'm sure it figured I was up to something it wouldn't like because it skedaddled.

It was a pisser because I'd nearly had the Mauser up for a shot. If I'd had another arm, I could have pinned it there for a few seconds by shinning a flashlight in its eyes. Ain't no law against night huntin' varmints that way, and besides, who was going to catch me at it. The Game Warden doesn't spend much time poking around in cow pastures unless the owner invites him.

At least I knew now that I could handle everything well enough, and if I'd been paying attention to what I was supposed to be out here for instead of taking pictures and riding around like a big assed bird, I might have had a better chance. Then again, Ethel wanted the pictures and she was the cook.

I don't care who's telling the lie; wolves are not as smart as coyotes. With the binoculars I saw three wolves creeping along in a different draw, about a mile and a half from where I'd killed the other one. They were right at two hundred yards off when I spotted them and they didn't even notice me, Joe Bob, or the mules before I was nearly sixty yards closer.

I got all three of them with the Mauser, but I had to work the bolt like a madman to get the last two shots. I hated to admit it but I'd have been a lot better off with a semi-automatic. A 270 would have probably been perfect, because if I'd had one, I could have taken the shots from where I first saw them.

Jeffry was not amused when I tied three dead wolves onto his packsaddle. He took it like a man, but he let me know it was only because he liked me, so far.

I kept at it, riding toward the furthest spot that Bob and George had pointed out on the map. I was nearly three miles from their house and one of their hands had seen sign near the crossing of a pretty big creek. I hobbled Joe Bob a quarter of a mile before I got there and went the rest of the way on foot, leaving the binoculars strung around his saddle's horn.

The camera rig was more awkward for this but it wasn't too bad after I turned the magnification back down. Even though the moon was gone by now, it was a clear night and I could have walked pretty well without anything.

I found a nice clump of high grass to settle into about a hundred and fifty yards from the crossing. At least I thought this was the crossing where they'd seen the sign.

It was false dawn already when I saw four coyotes about to jump the creek and come on toward me. They weren't in any hurry and I had time to get the camera ready. I got them all in the picture and one of them was in the air, right above the creek. I hoped like hell that shot came out good.

They were sniffing around at some smell or the other just after they jumped so I put the camera down, picked the Mauser up, and started blasting. I only nailed two this time; the other two were back across the creek and gone while I was yanking on the bolt for the third shot.

Bolt actions are wonderful if you're hunting something that you'll probably down with one shot. They're fast enough to finish it off if the first shot doesn't knock it down, but I had to face it, the Mauser wasn't the best weapon for trying to take out multiple small fast varmints.

Even with the hesitation of the live ones while they try to figure out where that loud bang is coming from, you don't have enough time to get more than two, if you're lucky. If you can get three out of three like I did once, you can be sure that one or two of them were just unusually dumb coyotes.

I was pretty sure that the noise of working the bolt was tipping off my location. With a semi-auto the noise takes place in the same instant the loud report occurs.

With a bola action it happens after the shooter has dealt with the recoil and had time to get his hand up to work the bolt. Sure it's less than a second later, but it is two distinct sounds. And wild animals live or die by sounds a lot of the time. Plus, it's hard as hell not to lose your sight picture while you've got one of the hands that's supposed to be holding the rifle still, yanking on the bolt to get another shot ready.

Still, the sun was nearly up and I had done pretty damned good tonight. I'd probably have nailed at least one more with a semi-automatic but I'd made enough of a showing for a good breakfast at least. I knew in my heart that Ethel would be proud of me when I wandered up.

She was too. She was out the door and bragging on me when I rode up into their back yard.

"I was sure I heard you shoot right before sunrise, so we waited breakfast on ya," she said, smiling wide.

"You didn't have to do that, but I won't lie and say I'm not glad about it."

"Well, to be honest, we's about to give up on ya. Must have been pretty far off to take that long to get back after those shots," she said.

"I'd say it was three miles or a little better. I was waiting by that far creek crossing that someone had seen sign around," I said, explaining.

"Well come on in the house and ya can tell us all about it. Jake already said he'd take care of Joe Bob and the mules for ya and then come back to eat before him and Carl start skinnin' 'em out," she said.

I know most people claim that they always take care of their horse before they eat, hell, I've told that lie myself. Probably ninety nine percent of the ones that say it are born liars and the others don't have anyone handy that'll do it for them. I say, if you ride around in the dark hunting critters while everybody else is snug in their bed, you've got a little consideration coming when you get back.

In any case, Jake was back with a cup of coffee in his hand before the first biscuit hit the table. Thankfully it wasn't long though and after the meal I told them the whole story. Chuck and Dave sat there with their mouths hanging open most of the time.

Bob had taken the camera and hooked it to his computer before we started eating, and he took his coffee cup with him when he went to check on things after he finished eating. We'd all just got a refill when he came out with the pictures.

The shots of the wolves were nice but the bobcat under the bush was a crowd pleaser, even after I told them about not getting a shot off, and then the coyotes jumping the creek stole the show.

"Bob, these pictures don't look as good as some I've seen you print, is there something wrong with that camera we got for John?" Ethel asked.

"Not a thing, I just printed these on the color laser printer in draft mode. The photo quality printer is working on that bobcat right now and it already looks better than it has any right to. I can't wait to see what the coyotes look like," he said.

"Well, blow us up some of the good ones, as big as you can make 'em," she said.

"I'm gonna, and if he keeps gettin' shots like these I might buy that big printer I've been tryin' to think up an excuse for," Bob said.

"You mean there's one that can do better?" Ethel asked.

"Ain't there always somethin' that cost more and does better?" Bob asked.

"Well your daddy seems to think we've got plenty of money, so go back in that office and get us one. And tell 'em to put it on FedEx for early mornin' delivery, like that last stuff," Ethel said, and she sounded like she meant business to me.

"Maybe I should tell you what it cost first, momma," Bob said.

"Not unless it's more than the four million dollars your daddy just spent so he'd have that good joke to pull on me and Wanda after breakfast yesterday mornin' - if it's a penny less than four million I want it here tomorrow," she said, and I was positive she meant business this time.

"I'll go order it then, but I know it can't get here that quick. It's too big for FedEx and probably for UPS either, and besides, they send out a man to put it all together and teach you how to use it.

"The one I'm talking about is a bigger model than the photographer in town has for printing the pictures he takes," Bob said, clearly knowing that he'd gotten into the turbulence between Ethel and George and also clearly wanting out of it in the worst way.

"You mean to tell me that Lonny, running around with his camera taking pictures all over, has a better printer than we do? I thought he was still developing pictures the old fashioned way," she said.

"Naw, he quit that when he started taking the school's pictures. Even I knew that," George said, and when Ethel gave him a look, I could tell he wished he hadn't.

"I'm not even gonna say nothin' 'bout that, but I better not catch you two holdin' out on me again when I want somethin' - cause I don't ask for much. I don't even have a car of my own, but that don't mean I can't go down and get me a few if I need to."

"I'm sorry if we've upset you honey. Bob and I will go in the office right now and the picture printer will be here as soon as money can bring it. A good horse can be rode to death, but I'm pretty sure nobody can even get my checkbook in a lather over this. I can see that you don't think it's funny and so I don't neither now," George said, getting out of his chair and grabbing Bob by the arm, pulling him toward the office.

When they were out of the kitchen, Ethel looked right at me with a frighteningly serious look on her face, and then it split into a big old grin.

"I guess I've go those two steppin' and fetchin' now," she said, and Wanda and I both had to cover our mouths to keep from laughing.

Most of the others had left when things just began to get a little testy, but I'd felt like it was partly my fault, so I'd stayed.

"I can't tell you how much I like those pictures, John, and you already know I like you gettin' rid of those coyotes and wolves. Got any room for some coffee cake?" she asked.

"I think I can," I said.

Ethel wasn't talking about a Sara Lee either, even though I like that well enough. She cut me off a big piece of one she'd just made and it was still hot from the oven. I don't think I've ever put anything in my mouth that tasted better.

Chris knocked on the door then and Wanda let him in. He wasn't as comfortable around here yet as I was and he looked almost afraid to ask Ethel where Bob and George were.

"Relax, I ain't gonna bite you, but Bob and George have been sent to the office, to take care of something for me, and they know better'n to start anything else until that's taken care of. Sit down with John there and let him show you the pictures he got last night while I cut you a piece of coffee cake and pour you a cup of coffee," Ethel said.

Chris seemed more than relieved to do just that, and I showed him the pictures while he worked on his cake and coffee. He seemed impressed.

I managed to get out and headed home before Bob and George had atoned for their sins by getting the printer on the way. I knew I'd get the details later, one way or the other, so I didn't mind. I put the stock away when I was back home.

I don't know whether Joe Bob, Jasper, and Jeffry were happier to be back in their stalls eating than I was to be through with them for a while. I guess they might get the nod since I'd already had more to eat than I really needed. Either way I was glad to get in my house, shuck my boots and clothes and get in bed. I know it wasn't even midmorning yet, but I was tired and sleepy from prowling around in the dark.

My cell phone woke me, and a quick glance at my watch let me know it was five PM. It had to be George or someone up there because they were the only ones that had my number.

"Hello, it's George. Did I wake ya up?" he asked.

"Yeh, but it was time to get up anyway," I said.

"Well the weather's gonna be bad tonight so you probably won't be goin' out anyway. Ethel had me call because she's got some things she wants me to bring for your freezer. She says she's got more than we can eat up here now, and she told me to ask if you knew how to make biscuits from scratch."

"I've got a general idea but I'm not sure I can really do it," I said.

"Would we be botherin' ya if we came down for a while?" he asked, and he sounded a little odd to me.

"Not at all, you'll be my first guest, come on down," I said.

"Be there in a minute then," he said.

They must have been nearly in the truck already when he called, and after I saw what they'd brought I knew it had to have been loaded in advance. They weren't in George's old fifty-six Chevy step side that he usually liked best; they came in a one-ton Silverado with an extended crew cab. Ethel, Wanda, Bob, and George were all in it. I met them in the driveway.

We said hello and then Ethel took over. There were two big plastic cans and lids that we carried in first. They were as big as outdoor trashcans but were gray and looked like commercial food containers. One was labeled as a hundred and twenty-five pounds of self-rising flour and the other was the same weight of cornmeal, and I tried not to ask any questions.

Ethel and Wanda had brought in a few things too, but I hadn't noticed what they were. We left them in the kitchen while George, Bob, and I headed to the barn and ended up filling the freezer to the brim and having to take a few things back to the house to try and find room in the refrigerator's freezer for them.

Back at the house, Ethel and Wanda put away our overflow and then Ethel told Bob and George to amuse themselves while she and Wanda showed me how to make biscuits and cornbread. I wasn't sure why I needed to know how, but I wasn't going to say a cross word. I just paid attention to make sure I got it all. Ethel finished up about an hour later.

"We brought ya some shortenin' but remember to save your bacon grease in the big can we brought and ya can use it 'stead of shortenin' if ya run out," she said, and I promised her I'd remember.

The mood lightened as soon as my lesson was over and we drank the last of the coffee Wanda had made; the first pot from the twenty-five pound can they'd brought. I really didn't understand why they'd done that or any of it really but I held my piece and enjoyed the rest of the visit.

"I guess we'd better go on home now. Supposed ta be a storm tonight," George said, about nine-thirty PM.

I walked out to the truck with them and then they were gone. I tried but I couldn't keep from scratching my head while I wondered what it had all been about. Surprisingly, I felt sleepy and after taking a quick look at Joe Bob and the mules I went into the house and back to bed. If there was a storm that night, it didn't wake me up.