Chapter 4

Klaus Hanslein Junior: Data Center

We argued about the plan. I wanted to swarm Butcher and kick the shit out of him. Ronnie wanted to stay with his first plan and sucker him into fighting. Damn it, Ronnie’s plan made sense. Rebecca wouldn’t be here to keep her boyfriend from fighting.

Ronnie and Grainger make extra money selling stolen construction supplies. They knew every construction site in the county. If the site isn’t fenced in, or guarded, they’ll take everything that will fit in their truck. Ronnie had no problems getting into the data center parking lot. He drove his Bronco down an old trail, over a dirt pile and we came out behind the building. Butcher’s dark green truck sat all by itself. We parked two spaces away, and completed our plans.

“This will be simple,” Ronnie said. “Klaus, after he hits you, I’ll call the police. Grainger will have him on video.”

“What? After he hits me? He has to hit Grainger.”

From the back seat, Grainger laughed. “Fuck you, Klaus, I ain’t taking a beating for you.”

“You bastard, we’re friends. All the times I’ve helped you.” I’d been drinking the shitty energy drinks and felt angry and jumpy.

“Klaus, you ain’t done nothing for me.” Grainger said. I turned in the front seat and swung at him. Grainger opened his door, slid out and said, “Fuck you, Klaus, I’m done with your shit.” He turned his back and walked away.

I jumped out of the car and grabbed him by the arm, “You fuck, you’re gonna ruin this.”

Grainger spun so fast he pulled me off balance, and I had to let go of his arm. He completed his spin, his arm came around leading with his fist. Still staggered from Grainger’s spin, I didn’t dodge fast enough and his fist hit my cheek and nose. His punch rocked me back, and I saw stars.

The pain exploding in my face, I flew into a rage. Everyone gave me shit. Rebecca betrayed me, her boyfriend kicked my ass, and now Grainger. I reached out with my left hand and caught his shirt in my clenched fist. Grainger pulled back, away from me. I hit him in his face. He tried to block, but he couldn’t stop me. Pummeling Grainger felt good. All the shit I’ve taken and now, I gave it back. I punched everyone who ever fucked with me. I punched Dad and that cheating whore Rebecca. I punched Rebecca’s boyfriend.

He wobbled, and I pulled him around and pinned him against his brother’s Bronco. I swapped hands and beat him more.

My hands hurt, and I stopped swinging to examine the torn skin on my knuckles. I remembered hitting Ronnie’s truck several times. Grainger was in a bad way, his face a bloody mess, and without me holding him up, he slid sideways. I bent to follow him down, but Ronnie grabbed me in a full nelson. He lifted me up and off my feet.

I flailed around, but Ronnie yelled in my ear, “Stop it, Klaus, you’re gonna fuck it all up.” Grainger lay on his back sobbing. He held his arms over his ruined face. Grainger pleaded with me to stop hitting him. His voice sounded wet and raspy. Grainger’s tears mixed with his blood and ran down his cheeks. I slipped out of Ronnie’s grip and stumbled. I felt sick. What did I do?

Ronnie dropped to his knees next to his brother and examined Grainger’s face and said. “Grainger, listen.” Grainger continued to wail. Ronnie shook his brother to get his attention and said, “Listen!”

Grainger rasped, “Ronnie, why didn’t you help me?”

Glancing up to me up, Ronnie said. “We got one chance here, pay attention.” Ronnie turned back to Grainger, “Dude, we’re gonna leave you here and call an ambulance. You tell them that Butcher beat you up.” It took Ronnie ten minutes of talking before Grainger agreed to do it. Grainger repeated the story a bunch of times.

Ronnie turned and told me to write, “Asshole” on Butcher’s truck. The truck had a light coating of dust. I used my finger and drew the letters. Ronnie had me apologize to Grainger, then we got in his Bronco and drove back out through the woods. Hidden by the trees, we waited, and watched.

Ten minutes later, Butcher found Grainger. We stayed and watched the show. My favorite part: the cop arresting Butcher. He got patted down and cuffed. We waited until the ambulance and the cop left.

Ronnie drove us back to my house. I thought we were free and clear. But, Dad must have parked his car in the garage because I didn’t know he was home until he punched me in the gut.

“Where the fuck were you? I told you to stay on the property.” Dad growled.

Doubled over from the punch, I groaned, “Out riding with Ronnie and Grainger.”

“Yeah?” Dad studied Ronnie’s Bronco, he could see it was empty. “Where’s Grainger?”

White faced, Ronnie said. “I better get home now, call me later, Klaus.” Nodding to my dad, “Good night Mr. Hanslein.”

Dad caught Ronnie’s shoulder. “Not so fast, you fucking weasel. What kind of shit did you get my son into?”

My dad is a scary fucker, and he can intimidate anyone. Ronnie looked into dad’s eyes and dad gave him his ‘I will kill you’ smile. Ronnie folded like a bitch. “Mr. Hanslein, when, Klaus came back from your hunting cabin, he complained a lot about losing Rebecca to that Butcher guy and I, um, we came up with a plan...” Ronnie detailed the whole thing to my dad.

“Where is Grainger?”

“We left him next to Butcher’s truck. He’s OK, the ambulance came and took him, and the cops arrested Butcher.”

Dad stood still, his jaw working. “Both of you, in the kitchen, sit and wait.”

We waited, Dad got on the phone to his lawyer. “Joseph, It’s Klaus, I need you to make some calls. Two things, has Kevin Butcher been arrested, and has Grainger Thomas been hospitalized? Call me as soon as you get the info.” Dad sat at the kitchen table, he closed his eyes and shook his head. Dad looked at me, then at Ronnie. “Tell me why Grainger would lie after Junior beat him up.”

Ronnie swallowed, “Um, I told him you’d kill him if he didn’t.”

Dad sat there thinking, his jaw sort of worked like he chewed his thoughts. He slapped his hands down on the table. The sound scared the hell out of Ronnie and me. Dad looked at Ronnie and said, “Your first plan wasn’t bad.” Ronnie perked up hearing that. Dad continued, “If you could have recorded Kevin Butcher fighting, it might have worked. Your second plan, though, the one you made up on the fly, was pure stupidity. You should have put him in your car and taken him home. It has too many flaws, and it’s gonna fall apart in a day or two.”

Ronnie’s balls must have descended because he questioned my dad. “What flaws?”

Dad said to me, “Put your hands out.” I put my hands, palms down, on the table. Dad grabbed my right hand and held it up. “Look at his knuckles.” Blood seeped from the little cuts. “Unless Butcher’s hands look like those, your story won’t work. At the most, you’ll inconvenience Butcher for two days. Then the police will be after your brother for filing a false report.”

Ronnie shook his head, “I didn’t think about that.”

Schmidt Farm, Living Room

Rachel Schmidt and her husband Jonathan sat on their chairs and watched the evening news. They had watched the news together every night for eighteen years. This summer brought a change to their routine, their daughter had a suitor. Rebecca and Kevin spent their evenings spooning outside on the glider.

Kevin worked a lot of extra hours. His eagerness to work long shifts was one of several reasons her husband liked him. Tonight, Kevin must be working a double. Rebecca sat at the kitchen table with his laptop and planned her do-over of Kevin’s house.

Mr. Schmidt increased the volume and leaned towards the television. A “Breaking News” ticker scrolled across the bottom of the screen. Behind the reporter, a computer displayed the logo of the company owning the data center. The reporter said, “A local man suffered a vicious assault and is in the hospital tonight. Grainger Thomas was assaulted for, allegedly, defacing a contractor’s vehicle. The contractor, Kevin Butcher of Fulton County, allegedly found Mr. Thomas drawing a vulgar word on the side of his work vehicle. A fight ensued and Mr. Thomas sustained serious injuries. Mr. Thomas was transported to the hospital. Mr. Butcher is under arrest and is being held at Central Booking.”

The news cut to a commercial.

Jonathan said, “This is terrible. Why would Kevin do that?”

Rachel said, “Grainger helped his brother hold Rebecca at the fair.”

Jonathan nodded, “And, at the ice cream shop, Rebecca stopped Kevin from hitting him. We’ll see what we can do for Kevin.”

The phone rang. Rebecca, expecting a call from Kevin, picked up the kitchen phone. She didn’t know about Kevin! “Daddy, “ she called out, “it’s Pastor Luke.”

Rachel knew Jonathan did not want to talk to Pastor Luke. Not after watching the news report about Kevin. Pastor Luke had “counseled” Jonathan on Rebecca’s undesirable suitor. In Luke’s eyes, Kevin Butcher, the former marine, was an irredeemable sinner. Lost and unrepentant sinners had no place within Luke’s congregation. After several such counseling sessions, Jonathan refused to attend another.

The Schmidts were certain that Luke’s wife, a Hanslein, influenced his opinion.

Rachel touched Jonathan’s arm. She said, “I’ll listen from the kitchen.”

Jonathan squeezed her hand and nodded. He waited until Rachel shooed Rebecca and Tommy out onto the porch. When she had the kitchen phone to her ear, with the microphone covered, he picked up the living room extension and said, “Pastor Luke?”

Pastor Luke came straight to the point, “Your daughter’s suitor made the news tonight. Did you see it?”

Jonathan replied. “Rachel and I watched the news, we don’t know what happened.”

“What happened? Your daughter’s English suitor displayed his true nature.”

“Mr. Butcher understands our beliefs and showed restraint after a deliberate provocation. We don’t have the whole story about tonight’s news report.”

“Jonathan, I have counseled you to sever ties with this violent outsider. I do not want his lack of Godliness to affect your family. Pray for him if you would; but this man, this Butcher, does not belong within our congregation.”

“We don’t know if the authorities will bring charges. Even if charged there has not been a trial, nor has the court convicted him.”

“If you continue your association with Mr. Butcher, I will ask the elders to ban you, and your family.”

Rachel watched her husband lose his temper. Jonathan’s face colored and his eyes blazed. “The Ban, Pastor Luke? I hardly think the ban is appropriate.” His voice took on a hard edge. “You need to step back and pray for guidance.”

Pastor Luke’s voice, already strident, increased in volume. He repeated his threat of a ban.

With Jonathan’s anger in full bloom, Rachel saw she needed to end this conversation. She put the phone back on the hook, and called out, “Jonathan? Can you help here?”

Jonathan nodded and interrupted Luke’s tirade. He said, “Pastor Luke, as Kevin Butcher might say, ‘Bring it on, bitch!’” He slammed the phone down.

Jonathan rubbed his temples while he strode into the kitchen. He hadn’t been this angry since his father forbade him from marrying Rachel.

Rachel knew Jonathan would have a headache. She said, “Wait here, I’ll get your headache pills,” and dashed upstairs.

Rebecca, from out on the porch, saw her father step into the kitchen. Thinking the conversation over, she reentered the kitchen. She could ask about the wedding announcement! “Daddy, can we announce my wedding on Sunday?”

Jonathan had a lot on his mind. Kevin’s arrest, Pastor Luke’s ban, and a building headache. He immediately assumed the worst. His daughter needed to get married. “Wedding? You and Kevin need me to announce your wedding this Sunday?”

“Well, yes Daddy, how else can we marry in two weeks?”

Jonathan regarded his beautiful daughter, she reminded him so much of his Rachel. Although Rachel had been a year younger when they needed to marry. “Does your mother know?”

“Yes Daddy, I told her last week. She thought it too soon to tell you.”

“Too soon?” Jonathan couldn’t believe this. His daughter needed to marry now. Babies born too soon after a marriage were always sources of gossip. “TOO SOON?”

Rachel reentered the kitchen. She said, “Jonathan, what are you yelling about?”

“You thought it too soon for me to know about Rebecca and Kevin’s upcoming marriage.”

“Well yes, if we’d told you then, you’d have become upset. As you are now.”

Jonathan decided it was time to simplify things. Pastor Luke pushing his buttons. His family threatened by the ban. His unmarried daughter pregnant. The man responsible for his daughter’s condition in jail for aggravated assault.

He turned to the wall mounted corded telephone. Thumb tacked to the wall above it, an index card listed important phone numbers. In the upper right corner, in red ink and bracketed with hearts, he found Kevin’s cell phone number. Rachel held out a glass with water and his headache pills. Reflexively, he took the pills. Then, with a grim determination, he picked up the phone and dialed Kevin’s number.

The voice mail picked up after the fourth ring. “Sorry, I can’t take your call, Semper-Fi! BEEP!”

“Kevin, this is Jonathan Schmidt. When you get out of jail...”

Rebecca who hadn’t watched the news, turned to her mother, “Kevin’s in jail?”

“ ... please stay away from my house and my daughter. You are not welcome here right now. If, and I repeat, if the court acquits you, we will discuss your marriage to my daughter.” Jonathan was on a roll. Chewing on Kevin satisfied his unchristian need to hurt someone. “If you need clarification, call my cell phone. Do not contact my daughter.” He hung up the phone and turned to see his daughter sobbing in his wife’s arms. His wife glared at him as though he were responsible for all the world’s pain. With the surety that accompanies the absolute certainty in the rightness of one’s actions, Jonathan took himself to bed.

Rachel told Rebecca the news about Kevin. She sent her children to bed, tidied up her kitchen, and went to bed herself. Jonathan refused to discuss anything. No one except Tommy got much sleep.

Schmidt Farm, Kitchen:

The next morning, Mrs. Schmidt found her daughter sleeping while clutching a pillow. Rachel sat on the bed and stroked her daughter’s hair. After Rebecca woke, Mrs. Schmidt said, “I’m sorry Kevin couldn’t come home last night.”

Rebecca sat up and hugged her mother, “I’m worried about him, Momma.”

“I am worried, too, daughter, come down and help. Maybe we’ll get some news.” Rachel kissed Rebecca’s forehead and went downstairs.

Rebecca hadn’t been any help with breakfast.

Jonathan sat and everyone assumed their places. This morning’s breakfast was quieter than normal.

He realized his daughter must be distraught with worry about her potentially illegitimate child. He said, “Rebecca, if the worst happens, and Kevin is not acquitted, I will send you to your Aunt Deborah in Ohio.”

Mrs. Schmidt and Rebecca sat through this suggestion in silence.

Jonathan didn’t understand their silence, weren’t they concerned with this unplanned pregnancy? He said. “Deborah lives near your second cousins. You remember your second cousin Andrew? You and he used to play together. Deborah mentioned he’d like to see you.”

Still no reply. Maybe they needed more time to understand the gravity of the situation. Jonathan finished his coffee and left to start his day.

Interlude: Schmidt’s Farm, Kitchen

“Momma, is daddy trying to marry me to second cousin Andrew again? I am not going to Ohio!”

“Your father is doing what he thinks is best. I’ll discuss it with him after he calms down.”

“Do you agree with his decision about Kevin?”

Mrs. Schmidt paused before answering; she turned her head and stared out the window. That same window where she and Rebecca would watch Kevin exercise. “No, I don’t agree with your father, but that will not change anything.”

Rebecca stewed, she needed to do something. “Momma, I’m going to take the van and visit Grainger. Maybe he’ll tell me what happened?”

“Rebecca, you can’t go there by yourself!”

“Momma, I can’t just sit here.”

“I understand, help me clean up and I’ll go with you.”

Kevin Butcher:

On any other day, it would interest me to learn how police make arrests and book criminals. Learning the process from the criminal point of view is unpleasant. Part of the booking process involved discussing my gang affiliations. Another part involved a blood test for STDs. I suppose the STD test was in case of an unplanned romantic encounter. After booking, I made my phone call to a local criminal lawyer. There wouldn’t be a magistrate available until morning and they put me in a holding cell. I shared the cell with six other men. They all had neck or facial tattoos. My new friends stared at me until one said, “What ya here for?”

“Aggravated assault.” I said. The two bigger guys nodded and everyone left me alone. Get charged with a violent felony, and you get an automatic respect bump.

My new lawyer met me in a small interview room before my preliminary arraignment. He had me tell him what happened, then he examined my hands and remarked, “Those hands don’t look like you assaulted someone. I’ll make sure your case file has pictures of your hands.”

At the preliminary arraignment, the magistrate looked over my file and asked questions. She decided I was not a flight risk because I didn’t have a record and I owned property. I think not having a neck or a face tattoo helped. The magistrate released me without bail, but with two travel restrictions. I could not leave the state, and I could not approach Grainger Thomas. My preliminary hearing would be on Wednesday, next week.

I collected my belongings from the lockup, and my keys were missing. The clerk checked and told me they towed my truck to the criminal impound lot last night. I wouldn’t be able to get it back until later today, or tomorrow.

After stepping outside, I turned on my phone. There were three voice mails. The first voice mail was Mr. Schmidt calling last night, “Kevin, this is Jonathan Schmidt. After you get out of jail, please stay away from my house and my daughter. You are not welcome here right now. If, and I repeat, if the court acquits you, we will discuss your marriage to my daughter. If you need clarification, call my cell phone. Do not contact my daughter.”

My stomach churned, and it wasn’t just from a lack of food.

The next voice mail was from Rebecca. “Kevin, Mom and I heard Daddy when he left that message for you. Don’t call me yet. I’ll call you.”

I felt a little better.

The last voice mail was my employer firing me, for fighting on the customer’s property.

My lawyer stepped out of the building behind me. “Mr. Butcher, need a ride somewhere local?”

“I need coffee and a ride to the hotel.”

We had coffee and Danish at the hotel. We talked about my string of problems with Klaus Junior and his friends. I also recounted everything I knew about Rebecca’s history with Klaus Junior. My lawyer took a lot of notes. He told me it had been stupid to not report the assault at the county fair. My failure to report the incident at the fair led to my current situation.

The hotel wouldn’t have a room available until noon. I feel asleep in the lobby.

Berks County Hospital, Room 4311

Grainger Thomas had a hospital room to himself. He didn’t know it was due to a request from the police. He liked being alone. When alone, no one picked on him, or expected him to do stupid shit. This morning, he had second thoughts about the stupid shit he and his brother got into.

When he and Ronnie kept watch on Kevin Butcher, Grainger compared his and Kevin’s life. Kevin had a job, he had a nice truck, and a hot girlfriend. Rebecca might cover up like a Mennonite, but you only had to watch her walk to know she had a body. Mennonite girls didn’t show affection in public, but Rebecca did. She held Kevin’s arm, or his hands, and didn’t care who saw it. Grainger knew he envied Kevin Butcher.

Earlier this morning, a doctor and nurse changed his bandages. The doctor said something about plastic surgery. More pain medicine came and made Grainger loopy and distant. A nice woman from the hospital’s billing department stopped in. She asked for his health insurance information. Grainger answered her questions as best he could. She left unhappy that he didn’t have health insurance.

A police detective arrived to take his statement, and Grainger didn’t care. He rode the pain killer high. Ronnie had prepared Grainger for this. The detective introduced himself and sat down. Detective Robertson said, “Mr. Thomas, can I call you Grainger? Is that what your friends call you? You don’t mind answering a few questions?”

“I don’t have any friends, ‘cept Klaus Junior and my brother and you can ask questions.”

“Thank you, Grainger. Klaus Junior? Is Junior his last name?”

“Heh, no. Klaus’s last name is Hanslein, his dad is Klaus Senior. Junior is Junior.”

Grainger didn’t notice Detective Robertson picked up on that name. The detective read Officer Wilson’s report, and he knew Klaus Hanslein by reputation. “You hang out with your brother and Junior?”

Ronnie hadn’t prepared him for questions like this. “Yeah, but aren’t you going to ask about Butcher beating me up?”

“We’ll get to that, I want to get your background first, OK?” Grainger shrugged. “Do you and your friends do any work for Klaus’s dad? Run errands? Pick up stuff?”

Grainger laughed, at least he might have laughed. With his pulped nose and fractures, it was a horrible sound. “No way, Senior’s scary as hell and thinks we’re stupid. He calls my brother Ronnie a weasel.” The detective made notes. With Grainger on pain killers, most of this would be inadmissible. He’d keep with it because something useful might slip out.

“So, Grainger, yesterday, how did you get to the data center?”

Grainger had to think, Ronnie hadn’t covered that. “Um, I dunno. I guess I walked there.”

The detective stepped Grainger through his day and how he arrived at the data center. Grainger’s story changed twice, and the detective noted this. The details of the beating stayed consistent.

“Grainger, how long did you wait in the parking lot before Mr. Butcher came out?”

“I don’t know, I laid there for a while.”

“What was Mr. Butcher wearing?”

“Just clothes.”

“Did he wear a hat, or a coat, or gloves?”

Ronnie hadn’t covered that; Klaus wore a T-shirt and was bare handed. “Nothing like that.”

“Could you describe Mr. Butcher’s hands?”

Grainger had a couple vivid memories of Junior’s hands with his fists looming large. “His hands? His hands were big and bloody.”

“One more thing, Grainger. Could you write the same word on my notepad you wrote on the truck?”

“Sure.” Grainger remembered what Ronnie told him. He held the notepad and wrote, “Asshole”.

The detective finished making his notes and stood. Grainger, the poor bastard, had taken a beating, but for what? No one knew why he blamed Kevin Butcher. Other than Grainger’s testimony, there wasn’t any evidence that Mr. Butcher did it. He wanted to compare Grainger’s handwriting to the writing on Butcher’s truck.

“Grainger, I may have to come back later, would you mind?”

Grainger shrugged and said, “No, anytime.” He felt drowsy and hungry.

Later, Grainger stirred. He heard a tapping on the door. He opened his eyes, and Rebecca and her mom stood on either side of his bed. Mrs. Schmidt made tsking sounds as she studied his injuries. Rebecca laid her hand on his shoulder and said, “Grainger Thomas, you look terrible.”

He tried to sit up, but Mrs. Schmidt told him to hold still and she used the control to tilt his bed up. While the bed tilted, Grainger voiced his confusion, “Rebecca, what, why are you here?”

Mrs. Schmidt spoke up, “Young man, we are here because we care. You are not the only person hurt because of Klaus Junior’s unhealthy fixation on my daughter.”

“Did Klaus beat up someone else?”

Mrs. Schmidt and Rebecca shared a glance. Rebecca said, “Grainger, you didn’t deserve this.”

Grainger got back on track. “But, it was Kevin Butcher that hit me and he’s in jail now.”

Rebecca spoke, her voice one of absolute certainty. “Grainger, Kevin only fights to protect me. I wasn’t there and nothing you could do would make him hit you.”

Mrs. Schmidt said, “Grainger, has your mom come to sit with you?”

Grainger tried to shake his head, but it hurt too much. He said, “No, ma’am.”

Rebecca and Mrs. Schmidt stayed and talked with Grainger for the rest of the morning. When the lunch cart came past, Grainger received a tray of soft foods. Mrs. Schmidt made sure he ate everything.

After lunch, Rebecca asked, “Grainger, what happened last night? Who hit you?”

Grainger looked frightened. “I can’t talk about it, Rebecca. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

Rebecca looked at her mom, but Mrs. Schmidt shrugged. “Young man, I wish that were otherwise, but we’re confident that Kevin is innocent.” Mrs. Schmidt checked the clock, “Rebecca, it’s time to get back and start dinner. Grainger, we’ll check in on you tomorrow.”

Rebecca squeezed Grainger’s hand and said goodbye.

Grainger tried, but couldn’t meet Rebecca’s eyes, “I’m sorry about all this, Rebecca. Kevin is lucky to have you.”

Mrs. Schmidt said, “Kevin isn’t with Rebecca right now.”

“Because of me?”

“My husband won’t allow him back until the court acquits him.”

The Schmidts left and Grainger was alone. He enjoyed their company and hadn’t asked for a shot of pain killer. Now with Rebecca and her mom gone, the pain was back. He pushed the call button. In the quiet minutes while he waited for the nurse. He noticed the room felt emptier than before the Schmidts visited.

Kevin Butcher:

The hotel manager woke me when my room was available. I showered and worked on my course of action. I had three goals. Reacquire my girlfriend, clear my name, and hunt down the fucker responsible.

Getting Rebecca back might be tricky. Her dad is angry about the assault on Grainger and he thinks I did it.

Clearing my name would clear up the problem with Mr. Schmidt, but how would I do it? I do electronics, not investigations. What if I sneak into the hospital and question Grainger? Shit, why would he talk? If I got caught, the magistrate would put me back in jail. I’ll call my lawyer again.

Klaus Junior had to be the fucker responsible, and I needed to deal with him. Two problems though: finding him, and what to do after. I can Google him and see about an address. Once I get my truck, I could drive there and look for him. What if I find him? What would it take to make him stop? Am I prepared to put him in the ground? Could I do it in cold blood? The world, well, my part of the world, would be a better place.

And If Rebecca ever found out, she might not forgive me. I wouldn’t risk that.

I needed information about Junior.

Hotel showers are awesome. All the hot water you need to think problems through.

Out of the shower and wrapped in a big fluffy bathrobe, I went back to my first problem. If Mr. Schmidt would give me the benefit of the doubt, I might see Rebecca again.

Time to call Mr. Schmidt and get clarification.

Mr. Schmidt and a neighbor split the cost of renting a forage harvester. The forage harvester chopped up the entire corn plant. The chopped and compressed silage fermented inside long silage bags. Dairy cows loved fermented silage, and it provided a large part of their diet. Jonathan helped his neighbor today. Tomorrow, they would work on his fields. Jonathan drove a tractor hauling cut silage. His phone rang. Jonathan checked the Caller ID. It was Kevin, his daughter’s baby daddy.

“Well, Hello, Mr. Butcher.”

Kevin said, “Mr. Schmidt, I am calling for clarification.”

Mr. Schmidt said, “I expected your call, Mr. Butcher. What do you need clarified?”

“You are angry about what happened, I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? Well, I’m sorry too. I had expected you to exercise more restraint.”

“Mr. Schmidt, I expected you would give me the benefit of the doubt. I didn’t do it.”

The nerve of him! Is Kevin saying that my daughter sleeps around? “Just who do you think, did it? The tooth fairy?”

Kevin said, “I don’t know who did it. I wasn’t even there when it happened.”

Mr. Schmidt said, “Mr. Butcher, I am quite certain you did it. Your refusal to accept responsibility makes me certain that keeping you away is the best thing I could do.”

If Kevin had doubts about Mr. Schmidt’s feelings, they were clarified. “This isn’t going anywhere, Mr. Schmidt. Good day.”

Kevin reviewed his conversation with Mr. Schmidt. Had Mr. Schmidt always been this unwilling to see reason?

A short while later, Rebecca called. “Kevin, are you OK?”