D I V O R C E by cmsix

Chapter 5

Assuming that was the case, I intended to make sure I'd be back here with my trailer. And I'd have a chainsaw, a real axe, and some wedges this time. I'd also have anything else I could buy today that I thought might help. First though, I was going to have breakfast.

When I'd eaten and was back to my truck I unhooked my trailer and took off south on Farm Road 92, passing through Silsbee and on to Lumberton, which was bigger. Just inside the Lumberton city limits I saw a U-Haul place and pulled in.

I was about to go on a shopping spree deluxe and I didn't have time to try cramming shit into the camper shell, it was practically full anyway. I rented a twenty-four foot box trailer, for a week, and had to make myself not laugh at the thought.

The man running the place had been more helpful than he realized. I asked if he knew a place that sold chainsaws and he gave me directions to a large locally owned hardware store. I headed that way, intending to buy every chain saw in the place.

Somehow, someway that I can't explain, sanity beat its way to my forebrain. I couldn't go around buying everything in sight. Even with cash to burn, which I happened to have, I'd end up in jail for observation. At least I would if I went on a wild shopping spree that got me too much attention.

It sobered me and I knew it was right. The last thing I needed was to end up being questioned by the police.

When I got to the store, I asked to see the manager and when he came up I explained that I needed to buy quite a few things. Then for the big if, I wanted him to call my bank to make sure my check was good. It was unusual, but I could see the dollar signs in his eyes and he agreed.

I had cash aplenty on me, but flashing it would cause more attention than writing a check. Plus, with the manager - the owner actually - giving the ok, talking would be held to a minimum.

I went about my shopping because it was only eight AM and no banks were open yet. I left him my driver's license and pointed out my truck with the U-Haul so he could get my tag number too.

Finding the chainsaws, I selected two Stihl 880s, the most powerful they had, and then picked up two sawchain splicing kits, a dozen round files to sharpen the chains, and a full two hundred and fifty foot roll of saw chain to fit. I didn't bother with any chain oil because I had other ideas about that.

Four axes, twelve wedges, two splitting mauls, and two of each size sledge hammer later, I called myself finished and took a stroll around the rest of the store while adding things I thought of as I browsed to the stack I'd made near the checkout line.

The manager found me about nine-thirty and told me that everything was fine, so I paid up, loaded my things into the U-Haul, and headed for my next stop. It was at the hardware man's brother's sporting goods store. When I'd asked, he'd told me about it and he'd even promised to talk to his brother about taking my check.

The brother was a character of the first order. He and his son regaled me with tales of the Big Thicket the whole time I was there. They insisted that I examine their collection of arrowheads and other antique items they'd dug up personally.

I did my best to help out with the conversation to keep them talking while I browsed. They had an extensive selections of guns and somewhat surprisingly, bows and arrows. The compound bow had started showing up in the last few years and they had a remarkable stock of them.

Texas didn't have a bow season for deer hunting yet, but there were rumors that one was coming in the near future. The old guy's son was the bowman of the two and with only a little prodding he showed me the best he had.

I had come intending to buy a couple of twelve gauge shotguns and all the buckshot I thought I could get away with. A little gentle feeling out let me know that neither of them were happy about the current state of firearms law.

They were dyed in the wool second amendment strict constructionist, and the son even admitted that he had never and would never let Federal Firearms Laws keep him from making a sale.

"We open this place for business every day to earn our living, not to fill out forms for the government. Don't get me wrong, if I think someone is up to no good, they can't buy a thing from me, even if they are legal, but anything else is no business of the government's."

Needless to say those words were sweet music to my ears, and since a few people still thought there were black bears way back deep in the thicket as he called it, he had all manner of bear guns for sale.

"Personally, if I's going for bear, I'd want a twelve gauge with alternating' loads of double ought buck and slugs. That's what I recommend and I keep plenty of examples for people that want to try for 'em," the son said.

I didn't ask if he'd ever hunted bear, or anything. He didn't look like much of a hunter and didn't talk like one either. He sounded like a campfire mender to me, but I didn't bring up any possibly embarrassing questions.

The gabbing died down when I started buying. I took two Browning 12 gauge automatics with the shorter bear barrel that he claimed did well with either buckshot or slugs, and I bought something else I'd heard of before but never seen in real life. A Remington Model 1100 in 410 gauge.

When he asked me if I needed any shells, I didn't bat an eye when I said I'd take ten cases of buckshot and ten of slugs for each gun. I knew perfectly well that many people bought shotgun shells by the case, but I also knew that it was birdshot that was sold that way. Ten cases of buckshot or slugs was not normal by any stretch, thirty cases, was decidedly odd, if not subversive.

He blinked but he didn't balk. He didn't have a chance to, because I started spinning a little yarn of my own before he could. I let on that I'd been curious about bow hunting and that maybe now was the time to give it a try.

While he was switching mental gears, I noticed that his mother - who did the book keeping - was busily filling out an invoice, and it didn't look like she was bothered at all about the large amount of ammunition I had spoken for.

He was glad to get back to his bows, but I'd spent almost all the time there I wanted to. When I found out which one was the most powerful I bought the two he had in stock, and then every arrow that they'd shoot along with five hundred blank arrow shafts, a world of feathers for fletching, and a little machine that trimmed the fletching with a red hot wire while you turned the shaft around in it's holder. I also cleaned him out of arrowheads of all types, except for the antique ones of course.

I made sure to buy any tools, supplies, and accessories he thought I could use for either shooting a bow, learning to shoot a bow, or learning to make my own arrows. He had a line of camo hunting gear and I stocked up with it also, including six Ghillie suits and every pair of hunting boots he had in my size.

When it came time to load up, they both suggested that I drive around back to their loading dock.

"It don't matter to me, but it'll keep the talk down. No tellin' what some gossip'd say 'bout you leavin' with all them shells," the old man said.

Sounded good to me and I was happy he'd though of it.

Next on my agenda was oil for the chainsaws. I needed two different kinds, the type for mixing fuel and bar chain oil. I hit the jackpot when I found the Texaco Wholesale distributor.

They even had the mix oil in fifty-five gallon barrels. I got four barrels of chain oil and two of mixing oil and I found a couple of real jewels in their tiny showroom.

On display were two large ABS plastic bulk fuel tanks. They held five hundred gallons each and were designed for the purpose. When I asked him if they had more, he said they had two others. I bought all four and with some rearranging, and an hour of pumping, I had two thousand extra gallons of gas. I decided I should get a barrel of the 20W-40 motor oil I always used in my truck, and ten oil filters too.

They didn't say a word about selling me premium fuel on a farm account and leaving off the tax. I gave them the phone number of the dealer I used in my hometown, but they said there was no need to call; my word was good enough for them.

The U-Haul was rated to carry twenty-three thousand pounds but I wasn't even close to that yet, and doubted I'd be able to get close. I headed for the local Wal-Mart next to buy some jeans, shirts, socks, and such. On the way in I saw that they had the same special on Ranch Style Beans and Wolf Brand Chili.

I bought them out of my size of Wranglers, Maverick blue jean style shirts, Carhartt overalls, and topped that off buying a hundred pair of white athletic socks. They had the Zodiacs here too but I passed on a spare. I did by ten of the repair kits though, for fixing punctures.

By the time I made it to the Silsbee Wal-Mart I'd decided to go ahead and get another Zodiac, just in case. I picked the next larger model this time and a five horse outboard for it, then roamed around until I found the real wooden paddles. After cleaning them out of my Wranglers and shirts, and another hundred pairs of socks I decided to see if I could make a bean and chili deal.

The manager listened while I told my tale of needing more than ten cases of each and smiled when I asked if I could buy more, even if I had to pay the normal price. He laughed at me and said I could have all I wanted at the sale price.

"Hell man, you've spent thousands of dollars with us today, and we've got the beans and chili in here to sell, not ration. That limit sign is just to keep the Mom and Pop grocery stores from buying us out," he said.

"Do you have enough to give me four pallets each?" I asked.

"Sure, we got in four straight trucks of each for this promotion. We started out, Monday, with over a hundred and seventy thousand pounds of Ranch Style Beans and of Wolf Brand Chili. What are you gonna haul them away in?" he asked.

"I've got a U-Haul trailer."

"It'll be too low for the regular dock, but we've got a ramp to drive the fork lift to the parking lot level. Just pull around back and I'll have a guy waiting to show you where to stop. Want me to send the other stuff back there so you can load it all in one place?" he asked.

"That would be great."

We shook on it and after the stuff was rung up, I paid and got with it.

I went back via Woodville to pick up more jeans, socks, and shirts at the Wal-Mart there and after I'd cleaned them out I figured it was about time to head off to my fate. Right before I pulled onto Farm Road 1746, I spied a big liquor store. My long necks weren't going to last me long.

The place was big but nearly empty. When I went to the counter I fished a little and learned I was dealing with the owner. A little more conversation, and a sad story about having to stock up for an extended camping trip fell on receptive ears.

"Buddy, if you can convince me you ain't a sneaky plant from the Texas Liquor Control Board I'll sell you all you can carry," he said.

"Well, why don't you come out to my truck and U-Haul and see what else I've bought. I'm not an agent of the Texas Liquor Control Board and I never have been. Hell, right now I don't even have a job," I said.

"That's good enough for me. When you said that it don't matter what you are. I flicked on my recorder, up under the counter, and if you try to claim otherwise now it'll be entrapment for sure. What'll ya have," he said, grinning.

He had a hundred and twenty cases of Lone Star Long Necks, and ten kegs of Lone Star. I don't like keg beer as well as long necks but I wasn't going to be able to do any better. I even bought twelve cases of George Dickel for when times got hard.

He had a forklift too, and I pulled around back. I was getting down into my last ten thousand bucks of cash but I didn't even try to give him a check. I was so happy to get a good supply of this I even went ahead and paid for the kegs, knowing I'd probably never get a chance to return them for the deposit.

I finally had everything I thought I could find in a day. If I'd had more time it would have been smart to buy a portable Lincoln welder and a cutting rig, or even a whole damned welding truck, one of those that were set up to hire out for pipeline jobs. There wasn't time to go looking around for such as that though, and come to think of it, I'd need a couple of trailer truck loads of steel to weld on, too. I headed back to my trailer and parked when I got there.

It was already dark but the café was still open. I made my way to it and ordered the best steak they had. It was a big T-bone, not my favorite cut, but it was good so I ordered all the rest of them that they had as carry out.

Figuring that I was in as good a shape as I could get in the time allowed, I was about to take my food and go to my trailer for my date with whatever it was. Right at the last I remembered to go into the convenience store and buy them out of the nylon sash cord they had.

It was a job to cram all those styrofoam boxes into the trailer's fridge, but I got it done. In one way I was still feeling shat upon over this, but I was glad for the extra day of time for shopping. Knowing something about what was coming had helped a hell of a lot.

I looked out the window the next morning, hoping for the best, but everything was gone again. Before I could get down about it I warmed up a steak, a baked potato, and I fried three eggs to go with it. It made me remember that I hadn't bought any bread and that I should have tried to buy a few cases of those biscuits in the tube style round packages.

All that was over though and my first order of business was putting something under the jacks to keep the trailer half-ass level at least. I fished out one of my new chain saws, mixed up a can of gas and then filled it and filled up the chain oil reservoir.

I didn't want to start the day by dulling the chain on a dried out deadfall, so I scouted around and found a small pine that was about fourteen inches in diameter. It had found enough space among the giants for growing room somehow, but I ended it's growing. Cutting off six-inch sections of the trunk had me set with four pads to go under my jacks and in an hour I was all leveled up.

I knew I had plenty of food for a long time, but I didn't have any idea how long I'd be here, or be now. The voice in my head hadn't bothered with any details but I got the impression that I'd be here a long time.

Waiting until I was running low on food wouldn't be the best plan for hunting, so I decided to get my Marlin and see if I could slip around quietly enough to get a deer.

I'd killed exactly two in my life, but I knew that wouldn't be the trouble. I was easily a good enough shot, and I'd seen plenty of them the other day. It was skinning them out and cutting them up that worried me.

I'd tried that part exactly once, and it hadn't gone well. In fact I'd given up after the gutting and taken it over to a friend's place to get him to help me, read that as get him to do it. With my next deer I'd taken it directly to a butcher that did strictly that during hunting season, in a little shop behind his house. That was clearly not an option now.