Chapter 22

Karen

I wasn’t paying attention to anything, not my classes or my health. I was sad. Sad for the owls, for the downed trees, sad for the pines twisted into match sticks in the mountains. I was sad for the Circle K ... the house, a fine example of 1890’s architecture and the best carpenters money could buy, was knocked six inches off its foundation by a felled cottonwood tree. I was sad for the thirteen thousand old trees shattered on the ranch and the twelve hundred head of branded Circle K cattle killed in the fields and who knows how many yet to be branded calves.

I was sad for the fools.

The only thing I accomplished was finishing my Flintlock class. The fit and finish on my full stock flintlock was such that the lines between metal and wood were only noticeable by color. The lock Uberti sent had spotted holes and preformed guts. The tumbler, the fly, double set trigger all had to be finish filed. The faceplate was a square cornered rectangular slab with the pan drop-forged onto the right side. Hammer, frizzen upper jaw and screw all had to be fit, drilled and leather and crucible color case-hardened. Long hours I spent, tears dripping off my nose onto the work, hammering hot metal and filing cold.

My laundry piled up ... I bought new. and added it to the growing pile.

I ran out of coal ... I burned wood.

I was snowed in ... my neighbor John brought his plow and plowed my drive.

I didn’t change the oil in the Jeep. When it refused to start I drove the Mazda. I got it stuck and started walking to school ... seven miles to town. Circle K hands picked me up and stopped at the hospital ... I lost a toe.

But I made it to the auction. I was nearly the only bidder. I won.

The reason I was at the auction?

It was held in the front yard.

To be honest ... like Rhett, I didn’t give a Damn. I just kept my hand up until the auctioneer stopped.

I might be disappointed in the world.

I might be disappointed in me.

I might be disappointed in life.

I’ll be damned if I’ll be a disappointment to Hairy.

“We’ll start moving the cows in the morning,” said the foreman.

“Leave ‘em,” I said. “I’m not doing anything with the place until mid May.”

Mr. K said, “I’m demanding.”

Demanding is a legal term. It means, “You have to fix or replace half of the fence. The fence is a borderline between your property and the “demander.” The law gives the property owner six months to repair his half.

“Charlie? Go fuck yourself.” and I walked away.

I went to town, with the laundry loaded in the Dodge pickup. I bought a gutted 10x70 trailer and stopped at El Patron’s house.