Tripwire
Copyright© 2021 by Mark Randall
Chapter 12
I wasn’t entirely truthful with Lieutenant Bordan. I had planned on visiting Pete while we were in Boise. It had been way too long since we had talked. I knew that we could overnight at his daughter’s place. I had called his daughter the night before, and she said that it would be fine. She also warned me that Pete wasn’t in too good a shape.
That afternoon we pulled into Pete’s place. We could see him sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch. He was grinning like a Cheshire cat as I walked up. “Matt, Great to see you, old boy. How’s life treating you. And Suzy, You too? What a treat. You even brought Shadow with you.”
Shadow had moved up to Pete and was sniffing his hand. Pete reached down and scratched him behind his ears. While he was doing that, Shadow looked at me and gave a little whine. He wasn’t too happy with Pete’s condition either.
“Pete, it’s great to see you too. I need to introduce these other two to you. This is Jim Kidman, one of Uncle Sam’s Misguided Children. He’s a pretty good guy that we’re helping out. The other is Lieutenant Lance Bordan. He’s Navy, but don’t hold it against him. He’s a SEAL also, so you may want to count the silverware before dinner.”
“Welcome, everybody. It’s a pleasure. SUSAN,” Pete raised his voice to yell for his daughter and then fell into a coughing spasm. I had noticed the oxygen tubes when we walked up.
Susan, Pete’s daughter, had probably been waiting just inside because she came out the front door just as Pete started coughing. She stepped up behind Pete and started gently patting his back. “Now, dad, you know you’re not supposed to get excited. Hi Matt, Suzy. When I told him you were coming, it was all I could do to get him settled last night. He was like a little kid. How long do you plan on staying?” Susan had a hopeful look on her face. I had the feeling that the longer we were around, the happier she would be.
“Well, Susan, We’re on a little trip right now. I want to take my young friend Jim here to see some other friends of mine. But we can hang around for a couple of days. By the way, the other guy is Lance Bordan. He looks scary, but I promise, he’s been potty trained and everything.”
“Reynolds, would you please lighten up. Ma’am, I am Lieutenant Lance Bordan, United States Navy. I’ve been detailed to keep an eye on Mr. Kidman. Mr. Reynolds has been riding me like a livery mule, and it’s beginning to wear thin.”
“Alright, Lance, I’ll cool it. So, Susan, can you put us up for a night or two. Suzy and I can bunk in my camper. And I know Jim can rough it on the ground.”
“I think I can accommodate both Lieutenant Bordan and Mr. Kidman. The girls are away to college right now, So I’ve got a couple of beds free.”
Suzy spoke up, “How are you fixed for groceries, Susan? We can make a run to the market for you?”
“Oh, we’re alright, Suzy. But I could use some help fixing dinner. All these extra mouths.”
“Don’t even think about it, Susan. You sit down and take it easy, Matt will grill up the steaks we brought, and I’ll get a salad going.” Suzy turned to Jim, “And you’re going to help me, Jim. I’m going to show you the correct way to boil water and make some corn on the cob. Lieutenant, you might as well come too.”
Suzy took a firm hold of Jim’s arm and, followed by Susan and Lance, went into the house.
I sat down in the chair next to Pete. “What’s the word, Ol’ Hoss? Susan says you’re feeling poorly.”
“Yeah, it’s that damned Vietnam. It’s finally caught up with me.”
“What are they going to do about it? I hear they’ve got some good results nowadays.”
“Well, the Docs at the VA want to put me back on the chemo and maybe radiation. But I’ve got to tell you the truth, Matt, and I don’t want you telling Susan or any of the others, I’ve had it with all these treatments. What doesn’t make me puke my guts out, sucks the energy clean outta me. It gets so just opening my eyes is a job.”
“So, you’re giving up? Just waiting to die?”
“Everybody dies, Matt. Some sooner than others. Some better than others. Saw a lot of that in my life. Men and boys dying too young, without their pride. White, brown, yellow, or black, we all got to meet The Man and make accounts for ourselves. I’ve lived a good life. I saw and done things that make me proud, and some that shame me. But now it’s time. Anything the medics do will just delay it by a day, or a week, or maybe even a month.”
“I’ll never mount another horse or rope a calf. I’ll never drink coffee at a campfire or roll up in my bedroll. And to tell you the truth Ol’ Hoss, That’s OK. I’ve done it, bitched while I was doing it, and wouldn’t give it up for health, wealth,,, Maybe love. But I ‘spect to be seeing Emmy Lou soon. I’ve missed her some terrible Matt, some terrible.”
Pete had closed his eyes, and I could see the tears. I reached over and took his hand. “It’s OK, Bossman, they’ll be there, waiting for you.”
For the next 20 minutes, nothing more was said. When Susan came out, I noticed that Pete had fallen asleep.
“It looks like he’s asleep, Susan. Perhaps it would be best to get him to bed. I think this may have taken a bit more out of him than I expected.”
“I was coming out here to suggest that very thing. He doesn’t have the stamina to sit up much more than this. As far as eating, most of that is a special diet and the IV’s. If you could give me a hand, I’ll get him down for the night.”
When I picked Pete up, I was shocked at how light he was. It scared me. As we were tucking the blankets in on him, he woke up and looked at me. “You’re a good friend, Matt. I think I’ll miss you more than anyone.”
His eyes closed, and he went back to sleep.
After dinner, Susan and I sat on the front porch, talking. Mostly about Pete. It turns out she was well aware of Pete’s condition. “It’s not that dad has given up, It’s just that he’s tired. Tired of feeling sick, tired of the pain. I know that he misses Mama too.”
“How about You, Susan? How are you doing? Are Henry and the girls helping out? In fact, where is Henry?” Henry is Susan’s husband. He was a mining engineer and spent most of his working life underground. He made good money. Good enough to send three girls to college, at the same time too.
“Henry is in Colorado, consulting on a played-out silver mine right now. The company wants to start it back up, and the EPA is giving them grief over their plans. We’re making enough on this deal. We might be able to retire.”
“How are you handling Pete? It can’t be easy for you, alone.”
“We have a home hospice nurse who comes in 3 times a week. She does a lot of the things that need doing. She’s a cute little Mexican girl, and she doesn’t take any crap from Pete.”
Once I was satisfied that Susan wasn’t overwhelmed, I changed the subject and started talking about other things.
The next afternoon, Jim said that he wanted to visit some friends of his. We had nothing planned, and the Hospice nurse was helping Susan with Pete, so it was a plan.
Susan was nice about it and let us use her car. My truck was OK but loaded down with the camper. It was a bit of a chore to navigate city streets.
As we approached our destination, I recognized it as the Basque restaurant where I had developed a taste for Basque food years earlier. Jim was getting excited as we entered.
This was a perfect example of a family restaurant. There were tables and chairs spread out through the main room. I couldn’t see any booths. As we walked up to the front desk, the young lady cashier was looking through her receipts. “Can I help you? You’re kind of early for dinner and late for lunch.”
Jim stood there with a grin on his face. “Hello, Annalise, I see they moved you to cashier.”
The girl’s eyes jumped up. “JIM, you’ve come back.” She came around that counter like she was teleported, Grabbed Jim in a bear hug, and buried her face in his neck. She was babbling and asking questions without giving Jim a chance to speak.
All this commotion got the attention of the people in the kitchen. An older man looked through the pass-through window, a frown on his face. This changed when he saw who it was. He came out of the kitchen, wiping his hands. “Jim, a sight for sore eyes. How are you doing, boy?” He had slapped Jim on the back and then grabbed his hand and started shaking it.
Sitting at a table on the far end of the room were two middle-aged men. The older one was reading a newspaper and the younger, nursing a cup of coffee. The younger one looked up when all the ruckus started. He spotted me and did a double-take. Then he leaned over and whispered to the older one. Who looked up and immediately spotted me. He got up and went through a set of double doors next to their table, not saying a word.
After a minute or two, the door opened up again. I caught a glimpse of the room beyond. It looked like any normal family room. Any family room that had been rigged as a home school, that is. I saw a crowd of kids of various ages. I had gotten a good look because the man that had just went in there, he was helping an older man come out.
He was old, ancient even. And he was using a walker. As he came in, he was squinting at the group in front of the cashier. He hobbled closer until he was about a yard away. The cashier and cook had noted his arrival, so did Jim. They fell silent.
He was staring at me, adjusting his spectacles to get a better view. In a quavering voice, weak with age, he asked, “Basajuan? Is that you, Mr. Reynolds? Are you Matt Reynolds?”
It was obvious from the first that he recognized me. I had been racking my brain, trying to remember where I had seen him from. Then it dawned on me. I had been at the local BLM office. I had a minor dispute going on over a boundary line of mine. This was Miguel Arteaga. He had been at that office trying to get a season grazing permit. The clerk was giving him a rough time over it.
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