"Oak Orchard"

 


                            5
                                                                                       
                                                                                   
                    " Reddog "

    The drywall seemed to go unusually well. There were no extra cuts or waste to speak of. That is not like
me I thought. Now I'll end up with left over drywall to return. Truth was I hated hanging drywall and the fewer pieces the better.

    Every once and a while I would glance out the window to see if my new companions were still there. It had been two days and no more voices occurred to disturb my sleep. So a sense of disbelief returned assuring me that it was just a coincidence; the crows that is. After all the town's only bar was named the Crows Nest. Must be a lot of damn crows every where I thought. At least that’s what I hoped.

    It was late in the afternoon when I decided to call it a day. A quick shower and a short haul down to the local watering hole seemed like a good idea. I had not made my appearance yet so now was as good a time as any. Meet the locals on their turf so to speak. Perhaps strike up a conversation and drum up some more work. A person could get used to this place. It was the peace and quiet though not the crows.

    Not only was Oak Orchard a quiet town but clean also. No visible trash cans anywhere and the streets and homes looked like something out of a Norman Rockwell setting. The absence of people in the off months made for an even calmer feel. Streets lined with large oaks providing plenty of shade from the hot summers sun and protection from the cold winds blown off the Atlantic Ocean in the winter months. It overlooked a large back bay where one could gather crabs and clams in good amounts during the season. The cottages were built for the most part around the turn of the century with a few more modern looking homes on the outskirts of town. It was not really a town per say in that it was never dedicated as towns are. In effect the people themselves were the mayor, the sheriff, the police, the building inspectors, the town council and so on. As you would guess the town hall was none other then the Crows Nest.  Not in any organized fashion mind you but generally speaking they knew everything going on in the community. It was your basic one stop shop for business information and gossip. If you couldn’t make a decision on a matter all one needed to do was have a drink at the bar; spill your guts and let the rest take its natural course. Sit back and listen while everyone put their two cents into the matter. At least by Mary's account of things. Afterwards, the whole matter carefully weighted by everyone you had your answer. At least you knew if your idea was acceptable to the majority or not.

  The road leading to the town hall followed the contour of the bay winding around each little cove, over a small bridge that crossed a tidal creek, past a pasture with an Appaloosa horse milling around a shade tree. Another a boat graveyard then finally the Crows Nest. It wasn't clearly marked by any sign rather by the fact that the missing cars from the driveways back down the road were all here.

    One neon sign offered a clue to the contents within the establishment. The Budweiser sign in the window was enough to draw my truck into the gravel parking lot and grind to a halt. The dust storm and brief slide into the lot drew attention immediately to my arrival from those inside the haunt. The front door opened slowly to allow onlookers to check out the commotion as the music seeped back out to my ears. As I disembarked my truck I offered a brief smile as if to say, 'sorry for the commotion.'
However before eye contact was made the crew slipped back inside. I stopped myself for a brief second or two to wonder about my welcome.

    "Do you really want to do this Sam?" As I hesitated something else immediately came into focus.Directly above my line of sight of the front entrance sat a familiar sight. Perched above on the roof line were another whole set of onlookers to my arrival. I should have guessed it but the drive along the bay leading up here temporary took my mind to another place. The smells of salt marsh and diving gulls were mesmerizing. Looking out across the water and seeing the fishing boats bobbing about at their moorings brought back memories of past fishing trips over the years. Clouds drifting by in all shapes and sizes as herons were working the flats for small fry to eat. But the guests waiting on the roof top were a harsh reminder of where I really was.

  As I cranked down on the door handle of the truck one of the roof crew let out a caw as if to say a casual hello and 'yes we are all here waiting on you sir.' At that point the unexpected greeting inside was beginning to look more appealing then the familiar crowd on the roof. So with that in mind I made it my concern to what awaited me on the inside.

  “What will it be?" A friendly voice asked as I tried to adjust my eyes to the now dark room.
  "Give me a beer." I strained to focus on the voice.
  “And don't go too far either because the first one won't put the fire out quick enough," I said with a half smile. But the silence that followed told me that this was not going to be an easy crowd.
  "Thank you." I fumbled with the money avoiding direct eye contact with the bar keep.

    Upon his retreat to the register I mustered enough curiosity to have a quick look around the room. Funny how every set of eyeballs seems to focus on you when you enter a strange place. These inhabitants were no exception.

    "Hey, how’s it going?" I shot a nod in the direction of the closest group gathered around the pool table directly to my left. I believe that even if I crept silently in; whispered my order to the keep; somehow over the noise of the jukebox and the crowd I still would not have escaped notice. After all I didn't exactly arrive quietly.

  The smells of spilled beer stale ashtrays smoke filled the atmosphere. The drone of country music intermixed with idle chatter with an occasional loud laugh made me feel a little more at ease. With the two quick beers in succession downed and a third on the way I began to feel like one of the boys. Well... sort of.

  "You’re not from around here."  A voice echoed. It was more of a statement then a question so my response took a little thought. Again I could feel the eyeballs returning to the back of my neck awaiting my reply.

  "How did you guess?" I finally drew a smile as the bar keep turned to replace a dried glass back on the rack and just as quick returned with his next question, slash statement.

  "Doing a little work down the way?"  It sounded more like a quiz to see if honesty was one of my virtues.

  “Yeah, a little bit of work." I hid behind my next swallow trying to figure if the whole bar would gather for the inquest.  So I furthered some more into the mix.

  “It’s a little remodeling job for a friend."  I glanced to the left again to confirm the eyeball thing. They looked away back to their game of pool. My unsteadiness waned as the ice was finally broke and the few mugs of courage took some effect. I regrouped from my semi slouched posture at the bar to retrieve and finish my third beer then push it forward again.

  "When you get a chance I'll have another."  His hand surrounded the glass before my words settled in the air.

  "Going to be here long?" His eyes making full contact as he set the fresh grog in front of me with a smile. It was a test, a test of wills. You know the local boys thing. A little intimidation but not enough to drive the customer away. Down home welcome I guess.

  "Not sure. How's the fishing around here." I stood my ground and changed the subject. With that everything went back to normal. Same back ground drone of noise. The bartender retreated to fill another glass at the other end of the bar and regroup with the troops.

  "Hey what’s with all the damn crows around here?"  I raised my voice for the benefit of the hearing aid section off to the side; knowing full well I still had their attention. The keeper made his return with the answer.

  "What crows?" He smirked.The others offered support with a few chuckles as I expected with the bartenders smart come back. I couldn't figure out if he was serious or they were all just making fun of a newcomer. I ventured a follow up question.

  "You haven't noticed all the crows on your roof?"  I ventured.

  "The only crows we have are these old crows in here." He looked directly at another set of locals in another corner and again the laughter. A little relief came over me as the attention was temporarily moved in another direction. It was short lived.

  "They are called sea gulls around these parts buddy."  The room exploded as if everyone was waiting for the detonation. I laughed too acknowledging that it was a dumb question even if I was serious.

  The bar opened to the light again as my eyes refocused on the new arrival. His frame filled the doorway and his presence brought a quiet to the bar. His long black hair flowing in the slight breeze that rushed past him in the doorway. He was no stranger to them.

  "What you going to have Reddog?", muttered the barkeep as he stood at attention immediately to my right.

  "You know what I drink!"  His annoyance apparent and his crackly voice matched his face aged by the sun.

  I sensed that he might be of some importance. He was astrange looking giant. The name was beyond a doubt appropriate. His red face and bark like a dog ever so present. He didn't seem much like the friendly type and some moved away slowly as he sat down on the stool not far from me. Not the sort of person one would want to mess with for sure I thought. But somehow I felt suddenly emboldened. " Buy you a drink?" I offered hoping it would send a signal to the others cronies in the bar that even though I was a newcomer I certainly was no pushover nor easily intimidated. I had to admit though I never really met anyone quite like him.

  " You want one Reddog?" The bartender eyed me as he queried him. There was a look that I could not read. Something in his eyes was saying something. It was eerie. Almost like he was saying you might not want to do this.

  "Sure, give us both one." I glanced to see if Reddog had noticed my gesture as the keep took the money. Reddog stared into the glass for a moment before venturing a nod without looking my way.

  "You see those damn crows outside on the roof when you came in?" I asked him as the bar went silent again. This time without the laughter.

  "Give it a rest" The bar keep snipped seemingly perturbed as his eyes shot back and forth between the locals myself and Reddog.

  Something was askew here!  I couldn't put my finger on it. My comment drew the barkeeps stare as he turned back to the register again. He paused ever so slightly again to make eye contact. I felt like I was being controlled here but why? Who the hell is he to tell me what to say or do? I thought.

  " I'll sit here all night I though and buy old Reddog all the drinks I want Pal." The words stopped in the nick of time from being released from my voice box and starting something unwanted.

  I sat silent as I wondered who this massive man was and why everyone seemed to shift gears all of a sudden. There was no doubt that there was something about him that bothered these people. He didn't seem well liked. And quiet was not the word for it. His face reflected hard times, troubles perhaps. His demeanor was one of a tough calloused person not wanting attention but knowing full well that he could easily get what he wanted. His quietness had a bit of mystery to it. Not shyness just real quiet. He made no eye contact with anyone while the others ventured only careful glances his way. Perhaps they were afraid of him. Maybe an outcast even but why? Was it because he was Native American. I assumed that as his features resembled someone out of a history book on the Plains Indians. Had he done something in this town? The more I thought the more I wanted to strike up a conversation with this stranger.

  He set the glass back in place for a refill with no commands given. The bartender slowly approached him obediently.

  "Another?" Reddog mumbled something as the barkeep refilled the glass.

  "I got it" Reddog looked my way for a second then down again as I shoved the money toward the edge of the bar.

  "I have money to pay keep it."  He seemed angry as if I had done something wrong. You could here a pin drop at this point.

  "No problem big guy just trying to be friendly." He looked back again studying me as if he heard something he had never heard before.

  "You’re not from around here are you?" He already knew the answer and it was dejavu all over again. I felt a bit of tension leave as it seemed  I was gaining some ground.

  "How did you guess? I smiled and picked up my grog.

  “I’ve never seen ya here before." His tone softened a tad. He paused for a moment then furthered.

  "Them crows, they are here for you!"  His response stopped me dead in thought as I tried to sort it out. He never looked up from his glass as a short burst of laughter returned. They were laughing at him now perhaps. One glance ended it quickly.

  "Why did you say that?" I tried to not let any emotion show but in reality I was getting concerned. He sneered at the pool crowd and they backed off slowly. Then his gaze met mine again. This time he looked right through me.

  "You tell me.” He eyed me as if I had the answer. A sick feeling began to move my stomach in ways I never felt. In an instance I felt like leaving but it was too real for me to just leave. I needed to know what this stranger knew.

  "You saw them too didn't you?"  Half-hardhearted wishing he would say he didn't. "What do the crows mean?"  My question was as genuine as it could get. A few snickers in the corner told me I had their attention still.

  "You wouldn't understand white man." A faint grin appeared as he drew some local support, his eyes still fixed to his drink. His massive hand clasped around it firmly like a caters glove. It was as if he was bonding with the crew in a strange way. But the snickers subsided and his half smile left. He was jokingly serious.

    I bought another round as I moved one stool closer. Now within quiet earshot I could talk without being heard. He glared for a second and returned his gaze to the suds giving silent approval.

    "You’re Native American aren't you?" I knew it was a stupid opening even before my vocal chords took over.
    "Sorry." I regrouped.
    "Don't be, I'm not." Toying with his glass as if searching for something.

    "Nanticoke" There was a lack of pride in his words as they trailed off.

    "Your part Indian too huh?" He sounded sincere but I cautiously waited to answer. "Yeah, you know, 
everyone wants to be part Indian."  It wasn't sincere an he knew. Then the tone of his voice changed. I let the silence build before I spoke again.

    "Blackfoot. On my Fathers side of the family. They were Blackfoot."

    He could sense my pride and the truth in my voice. He eyed me up and down as if looking for some outward evidence. Silently he looked through me. It was as if he was looking deep inside at something. A chill went down my neck. A few moments later he spoke to me with intent.

  "They are here to take the spirits to rest." He caught me off guard with that response.

  "What’s that?" I thought I was hearing things. "The crows?" I got my mind back on track. "I thought you said they were here for me? How do you know that?"  I pushed him for an answer now.

  He waited as if searching for words then looked directly at me and around the room again to see who was eavesdropping. He knew something and I had to know what it was. What the hell was going on in this town full of crows.

  Reddog rose from his perch and headed for the door. Stopped for a brief second; looked at the ground as if the right words appeared on the floor boards covered with sawdust and peanut shells. Looked back at my perch and spoke assuredly.

    "We shall speak of this again."

    Before I could continue my inquest he was gone. I hurried to the doorway. No dust trial from the parking lot to indicate a hasty exit. No sign of anyone walking in either direction. He just up and seemingly vanished. I returned to retrieve my money on the bar to return home.

    "What's the matter? Can't seem to find where he went?" The bartender teetered on a revelation. He approached slowly and closed in enough to escape earshot.

    "Some around here think he is what the Indians call a shape shifter."

    "What the hell is that?" My annoyance was about to become public as his words sunk in. I knew full well what shape shifters were.

    "Look here friend, he began. I realize you haven't exactly had a warm welcome here. These people aren't as easy to talk about some things that happen around here either."

    "I'm Ray." He extended a paw with a friendly excepting look.
"I hear it all in here. I have to it's my job." His honesty now read like a picture of Abe Lincoln.

    "All I am trying to say is watch what you say and ask and who you talk to around here!" 

    I paused for a second thought long and hard then answered with the appropriate response given the circumstance.

    "Give me a damn shot!"  With that we both laughed. He walked to the liquor case then brought two shot glasses and the bottle back.

    “You know Ray this is one weird ass town you got here!" The drink was perfect timing because I was on the verge of total confusion. So a break was the answer. The only answer I wanted right now.

  Ray poured two doubles, raised his glass for a toast and as his glass tapped mine he spoke.

  "You don't know the half of it friend!"


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