vignette 6

                  Yancy continued to work in the mountains as a a criminal investigator. He never let go of the fantasy of finding those who left him an orphan.  He went over the possibilities that might happen when he finds the men. Would he be able to contain himself and bring them in for trail, or would he loose control and become the executioner?



         Many of his nights were spent in fortune. Sleep was not his friend. When he closed his eyes to sleep, he knew that it was going to be another night of being in the fire as a child. He always smelled the smoke, felt the heat, and worst of all he could hear his family plea screaming in pain. In forty two years, Yancy had not slept without reliving the night that his parents and sister died in the fire.



         Though Yancy had always been healthy, he was more fatigued than he felt that he should be. Everyone knew when Yancy was in the area due to the continuous coughing. He would be fifty two in just a mere three weeks. He was not too worried about his health. Everyone in his family lived to be in their eighties and nineties. He was sure that he too had many years yet to live.



         Yancy stares at the page. He could not believe what he was reading. There in a letter from his brother was the names of the men that had started the fire so many years ago.



         

“Brother,



         I was contacted Joshua Timings. He was sixteen when our house had burned down. He said that his friends Theodore Red and Timothy King. They were his best friends, and that they had bragged to him that they had killed an “Indian Lover with his squaw.” Timothy King had voiced concern that we had survived, and that we may be able to have turned him in. So he moved south. He lived in Florida until three years ago when he moved back home. I do not know whatever happened to Theodore Red.



         I knew that you would want to know this. I wish that we could visit sometime. I plan to visit with you before this year ends.



Yours truly,

Biziil,”





         Yancy felt those deep angry feelings bubble up inside. He just knew that it would not be a social-able reunion when he found Red and Timings. He felt the same way as he did in the hospital when his uncle told him about his family.



         “Sir,” the cashier/postal worker. “Your total is $3.15.”



         Yancy looked at the man behind the counter. “I'm sorry. I must have drifted a way for a minute.” He picked up the brown bag of cough medication, smiles, and walks out the door.



         He doesn't get five feet from the door when he had a episode of coughing. Pulling the handkerchief from his face, he noticed that it was covered with blood. He wiped is lips, and turns up a bottle of the medicine. It only helped for a few minutes. He knows that he needed to see a doctor for his condition, but everyone in his family lived a very long life. Surely this would pass.



         Back at his office, Yance searched all the evidence and file that he had kept updated about the fire. He wanted to find anything that would lead to the where-a-bouts of Red or Timings.



         There on one age stained page of a notebook, was the address of couple of friends. Timothy King and Theodore Red was two teenagers that lived three miles up the mile from the Lancers. George had arrested Theodore Red's father for moon-shinning. Though it was suspected that the pair burned the house down for revenge, it had not been proven. It was not a case of the highest priority. If George and his family were all white, the killers would have been found.



         Theodore Red lived at Stone Lane two miles from Yancy's old house. Timothy King would drift form from barn to barn sleeping. He had left his home after his father forcefully thrown out of his parents house.



         After he had spent reviewing every stained item in the box that he had collected over the years about the fire, he retired to sleep. The next day he would find be face to face with his family's killers.



         Morning came slowly. He spent most of the night hours awake thinking about the pain he would inflict on those who caused all the pain that he had felt.



         Though it was now a different time than when he grew up and computers were used, Yancy worked without one in a private office in his home. He hung his “be back” sign, and went the direction of Stone Lane.



         There where the little one story house once stood was a large elegant two story brick home. The lawn was well groomed Kentucky Blue Grass. Flowers were lined the walk way. He could see in the side of the yard a child's swing set. Yancy walked onto the large porch and rang the door bell.



         A little girl who looked to be about six or seven answered the door. “Emma!” her mother scolds. “You do not answer the door.” She ushers Emma back through the house.



         The woman stood behind the screened door as she asked Yancy about his reason for the visit. She informed him that her grandfather Theodore Red was in the nursing home about five miles away from where they were. She seemed to be happy that someone form her grandfather's past came to find him. She did not know, however, why Yancy came.



         Yancy turns to walk off the porch. He then turns right back around. “Have you ever heard your grandfather talk about Timothy King. They used to be best friends?”



         “Yes,” She said. “He is Uncle Timmy to me. He and Granddad used to hang out all the time. Timmy died three years ago. He is buried in the old grave yard at the end of town. It is sad really, he didn't have anyone to bury him anywhere else.” She hands Yancy a piece of paper with the room number of her grandfather.



         Yancy stood at the nursing home. The air smelled like body odor and rubbing alcohol. It took forever to be acknowledged. One after another the residents cam up to him. Some wanted a smoke. Others asked for food. There were a few who just mumbled under their breath as they passed him.



         “May I help you?” The nurse asks.



         “Yes, I am looking for Theodore Red.” Yancy asks expecting her to walk him back to his room.



         “He is in room 333 at the end of the hall.” She said barely looking up.



         “Thank you,” Yancy replies.



         Yancy walked past room after room. The elderly sat like zombies in front of their windows, radios, and televisions.



         Room 333. “This is it.” Yancy thought. He walked into the room. There in the shadow of the window, was a little shriveled man.



         Yancy felt the anger subside. He looked at the little man that sat in a wheelchair.



         “Theodore?” Yancy asks.



         “What?” he answers. “Daddy, why am I here?” Theodore asked as he look up at his visitor. Yancy looked back into the man's eyes. They were no longer the eyes of a bigot Indian hating teenager. They were the eyes of an innocent child. Yancy could not tell the man who he was. He started to leave the room.



         Theodore reached out and took Yancy by the arm. He whispered, “I'm so sorry.”



         Yancy turned around. Did Theodore remember what he had done. “What?”



         “I'm sorry, Daddy.” He looks up pleading. “Can I go home?”



         Yancy reached the exit when he began to cough again. The nurses ran as he fell to the floor. Yancy looses consciousness.



         When he woke up, he was in a hospital room. His mouth was covered with an oxygen mask, and IV bag dangled from a rod above him.



         “Mister Lancer,” the nurse speaks to him. “The doctor is here and wants to speak to you.”



         “Yancy, you have Tuberculosis.” The doctor looks down. “ I am afraid that you have waited too long. I found this letter in your pocket. I read the letter to find a relative.” The doctor motions for someone to come in. “No one deserves to die alone.”



         As the doctor walked out of the room, Biziil walked in. Tears ran down the cheeks of the two proud men. Biziil took his brother's hand. “I love you, brother.”



         Yancy tired and wanted to go to sleep. “I love you too, brother.”  Then he looks ahead. “Mother is coming.” He reaches out his other hand.



         “Yancy, go to her.” Biziil said with tears flowing in sheets down his eyes now. “She has waited far too long for you.”



         With those words, Yancy took one more deep gargling breath. His eyes widened and he fell into the eternal rest.