Jaspers Boots Chapters 1 to 3

Chapter 1



The cowboy boots were too big for Jasper’s feet and the longer he walked in them the more they hurt.  Ever since the fire he had to go about in bare feet and at first he thought the boots had been a real find. He wasn’t so sure now. Traveling as light as he was Jasper made good time leaving Cricket City behind, but the blister on his heel was getting troublesome and slowing him down considerably.  He sat on the side of the road to give his dogs a break and puzzled about the last week.



He had awoken choking and coughing from the smoke billowing all around him.  Had he been a deep sleeper he would have been toast. He had high tailed it out of there with only his jockey shorts and tee shirt.  Everything else, which wasn’t much at all, was cooked.  As he had stood outside the small shed that he had called home he was amazed that he was still alive.  The flames rolled out of every opening between the wall boards and the space under the roof overhang that was there to allow the shed to breath in the hot summer months. Once the boards ignited it didn’t take long for the whole structure to fall in on itself. 



Jasper had taken up occupancy in the small tool shed tucked away at the far end of the Western Fuel refinery, planning to move on before the winter set in.  He had found that he could come and go, pretty much at will, in spite of the perimeter security devices and began collecting the things that he would need to make his new place habitable.  On the first day he had powered his little radio with a wire he had run from one of the big pieces of natural gas bottling machines a few feet away. He never missed a Rangers baseball game.  Even though he didn’t have a television he could still listen to each broadcast and keep up on what the team was doing.  Up to that day they were having a pretty good season.  There was even a chance they might make the playoffs.  He couldn’t say that much about his own luck.  Looking back at it now, he thought that maybe that wire hadn’t been such a great idea.  The Texas sun had softened the insulation and exposed just enough bare copper to create the tiniest spark when the pump of that big machine kicked in.  Jasper had discovered a new meaning for the word flammable. 



He had to hide deep in the forest of pipes and turbines and holding tanks until the fire engines left and the coast was clear again.  The fire had been a minor one to the volunteer fire people who had responded.  They had it out in a matter of minutes and to everyone else but him it had been a brief bother.  Moving day had come early. If truth be known, he didn’t think he would have liked it much there anyway, but getting a pair of pants wasn’t going to be easy in the middle of the night.



It turned out that getting pants was easier then he thought.  About a mile away from the refinery he found a clothesline behind an old two story house, in the not so upscale part of town, that still had the days laundry pinned to it.  He was able to make a whole outfit, including pants, shirt, underwear and socks.  The socks weren’t going to do him much good until he had shoes, so he stuffed a couple of pair in the pants pockets.  "Hells Bells" he said to himself when he spied a pair of work boots right there in the bed of the pick-up truck parked in the yard. Granted they didn’t fit so good, but hell beggars couldn’t be chosers. 



He had been all over Cricket City in the last several months and knew a lot about what was happening and where.  Over on Maple Ave, you could always get a cheap cup of coffee at Lydia’s Coffee Shop and if you didn’t mind the day olds Lydia would treat you to a nice sweet roll.  She always wanted a kiss on the cheek in return.  Jasper wasn’t crazy about that; but a guy has to eat.  For an hour or two’s worth of floor sweeping Harry would stand you to a couple of cold beers over at the Twist ‘N Shout Lounge.  The truck stop over at the I-10 interchange had rest rooms.  When you started to get ripe, you could slip the lock on the door on one of the private shower rooms that the drivers used.  So in some ways Cricket City had all the comforts.  It was the people Jasper wouldn’t miss.  God Almighty they were a strange bunch.  It always seemed that they were watching everything a might too closely.  Like they had something to hide and wanted to know if anyone was catching on. 



Chapter 2



The buzz around town was that Sally La Pointe was pregnant.  About five months along, they were saying over in the Twist n Shout.  Lonnie Winfield and Henry Clayton wondered about how in the world that could have happened.  Sally was cold as ice and most everyone figured that she wore comfortable shoes, if you know what I mean.  Lots of the local romeo’s had tried to get to first base but she was never interested.  “I remember when I got up the nerve to ask her out.  It was to the spring dance over in Waynesville.  I always thought she was real pretty and I surely wanted to get close to her.  She was built so fine.  Anyways, I walked on over to her house right after work one day, all confident and ready to go, don’t you know.  So I knocked on the door and her daddy answered.  Old John La Pointe, wearing his overalls and one of them big black cigars stuck between his teeth.  “Yeah, boy what is it you want?” he said to me, all annoyed like.  I damn near soiled my undies right there on the porch.  But I was able to say “Could I talk to Sally?”  Old John he just looked over his shoulder and shouted out into the house for Sally “Little girl hurry up out here, there’s some peckerhead here to see you”.  He turned and walked back into the house, just leaving me standing there on the porch looking through the screen door.  Man, it seemed like forever just waiting there.  Sally came up to the door, she never opened it mind you, and said, “What is it Lonnie Winfield?”  “Hi, Sally I was wonderin’ if you wasn’t doing nothing next Saturday night maybe you would like to go over to Waynesville with me for the spring dance.”  “Henry, the last words weren’t out of my mouth before that door slammed shout, hard enough to make me jump, by Jeez, I almost fell backwards off the porch steps.  Ever since that day Sally hasn’t said a word to me.  It’s like I had the nerve to ask her out so she can hate me the rest of my natural life.  It ain’t normal Henry.”  Henry put down his pool stick, just long enough to sip on his bottle of beer, and went right back to lining up his next shot.  “Well, Lonnie you ain’t the only one who tried to bark up that tree and got swatted like a fly on a formica tabletop.  I could name five other guys that I know that tried to ask her out and they got the same treatment as you did.  The big blow off and then the cold shoulder forever after.  Something really is wrong with that girl.  So how in the hell did anyone get close enough to get her pregnant?”  “Damned if I know, Hank, damned if I know” Lonnie said as he watched his friend miss the nine ball in the corner pocket.





Chapter 3



The ancient Buick lumbered down Highway 12 on it’s way to Waynesville.  The summer sun was just brutal and even with all the windows open the heat inside the car was barely tolerable.  The glare off the shiny dashboard was blinding and with the shimmering heat off the asphalt pavement the road ahead was all but vanishing.  Arland mopped his brow with a big blue bandana, the kind with the awful paisley print, to keep the drops of sweat from clouding his vision any further.  For forty years he had made this trip and the first of every month and he couldn’t recall a time when it was any worse.  Except maybe that snow storm  in February of ’53.  Man that had been something, he thought.  Must have snowed three feet that day.  It started about half way through the trip and keep coming well into the next day.  It had been the one and only time he had to stay over in Waynesville.  He was a lot younger then and the opportunity to stay out all night was one that didn’t came along too often for a the son of a dirt farmer.  Arland lit a Camel cigarette, which wasn’t that easy to do in the seventy mile an hour breeze coming in the windows.  He allowed himself the few moments to recall the drinking and partying he had done in that overnighter.  Alice Manard was her name, he thought, and she was one game lady.  Probably could have drink most of the men there under the table.  She had taken a real shine to him the moment he walked into the Crazy Horse Saloon.  Slid right up next to him on the stool and chatted him up pretty good.  Before you knew it they were both feeling pretty good and then they started feeling each other pretty good.  They wound up in the backroom just off the bar; their clothes flew everywhere.  Man she was something else, she had a fire that almost wouldn’t go out. But they sure tried to quench it.  The rebirth of the long ago memory brought a big smile to his face.  It was fitting because it was last thought he would have before the southbound tractor trailer hauling fifty head of steers plowed square head on into the Buick. 



Out on the flats the sound carried a long ways.  A God awful mixture of screeching brakes, deep throated air horn, twisting sheet metal carried up and down Highway 12.  You didn’t have to be there to know that the result wasn’t going to be anything but terrible.  Jasper jumped a little at the noise, first tucking his neck deep down into his shoulders as if ducking away from something flying his way, and then letting an audible “Jeez Louise”.  He looked up towards the sound but couldn’t see anything on the road. Usually one to go the opposite direction of trouble, Jasper started off in the direction of the noise.  Accidents were fascinating to him.  He wondered what he would find when he got there.  He had only walked a few hundred yards when he saw a small herd of steers grazing just off the side of the road.  That was really strange, he thought, there were no fences in sight and the nearest ranch was on the other side of Cricket City.  Right after he diverted his attention from the live stock he could make out the crash site, about another hundred yards or so up the road.  The same shimmering heat that distorted the road for Arland was keeping Jasper from seeing the wreckage clearly.  He could see the wisps of smoke and steam rising, and if he wasn’t mistaken he could smell gasoline and diesel fuel. 



Jasper eased up closer to the wreck.  The buick was firmly embedded in the grill of the semi.  It’s entire nose was waffled back almost to the back seat.  The front doors hung wide open and folded in half. The big chrome bumper was bent like a piece of spaghetti and protruded through the windshield.  Inside what was left of the Arlan looked like a really terrible road kill.  His head lolled to the side at an unnatural angle and rested squarely on his shoulder.  Blood covered his torso and legs especially below where the steering post had penetrated his chest, skewering him like a piece of chicken at a Sunday barbeque. Jasper could fell his stomach tighten at the sight, but his compulsive curosity wouldn’t let him avert his eyes.  The blood that seemed to be everywhere was already drying to a deep rust color in the heat and sun.  He was grateful that the stink hadn’t set in yet.  When he looked up into the cab of the semi, Jasper let out a audible gasp.

The driver was still alive and trying to speak.  He was looking right into Jasper’s eyes, almost pleading with him for his attention.  He wasn’t moving any, his head was perfectly still, just his lips were going.  The tractor was one of those short cab models, where the engine was actually mounted below the driving compartment, so when the two had crashed the cab had twisted up and over the buick and the driver was almost looking down at him.  Moving around to the other side of the vehicles Jasper was able to get up on the fender of the buick and lean in towards the truck driver.  “Jeez Louise, mister, I never seen a crash like this before, I don’t see no blood on you. Are you alright?”  Jasper said, as if he was just passing the time of day with a stranger.  The drivers eyes were as wide as saucers and he made hitching sounds as he tried to talk to Jasper.  No words came out, his wind pipe and larynx had been crushed by his own steering wheel.  It had been a miracle that he had held onto consciousness as long as he had.  “I can’t hear you mister, what do you want me to do?” Jasper said as he moved even closer to the driver.  His big left hand reached up and grabbed Jasper by the shirt, and pulled him in closer yet.  Jasper pulled back, “Hey, mister no need to get rough, I’m trying to help as best I can.”  Jasper looked down and pried the hand off his nice new shirt, when he looked up the drivers eyes had gone dead and those raspy hitching sounds had stopped.  “Jeez Louise, mister.  You’re dead, ain’t ya?”.  Just to make sure Jasper gave him a good shake.  “Yep”, he said as if reassuring himself.  He climbed down off the Buick and decided that he had never checked Arland to see if he was really dead, too. 

Giving the big man a shake answered that question pretty emphatically.  Arland’s head rotated almost one hundred and eighty degrees and was now facing over his right shoulder.  Jasper thought that he now looked like he was trying to back that Buick up and was looking which way to go. 



Jasper figured someone would be by.  He knew that Highway 12 wasn’t used that much since the new interstate went in, but the old timers from Cricket City and truckers looking to bypass the weight scales still did from time to time.  He nosed around the trailer box and found a half dozen dead steers lying inside.  Now he was able to figure out why he had seen the others grazing off the side of the road.  As he walked around the back of the Buick he peered into the trunk.  The lid was bent and bowed allowing him a peek inside.  Jasper couldn’t make out the contents clearly because he was looking through a two inch opening, but surely there was stuff in there, he thought.  He looked around until he found a metal bar in the cab of the tractor trailer.  He guessed that the driver probably had it to use as a billy club if he needed one.  The bar was heavy and made popping the trunk of the Buick easy. 



Inside Jasper found several boxes.  All tightly wrapped in plastic tape.  They weren’t marked in any way except for numbers written across the plastic tape.  Each box was no bigger than a red brick.  There were twelve all together inside a wooden milk crate.  Alongside the crate was the usual crap found in an old man’s trunk.  Flares, flashlight, water jug, blanket, a can of Fix-a-flat, you know emergency stuff in a nice kit bag, just to be on the safe side.  That’s a hoot, thought Jasper, what good did they do you today?  The open truck lid provided a nice bit of shade so Jasper busied himself with the investigation of the little boxes.  He was superstitious so he looked for a box that didn’t have any of his bad numbers, like 3, 6 or 8.  3, 6 and 8 were almost always trouble.  Ever since he was a kid those numbers made him uncomfortable and it hadn’t gotten any better the older he got.



He picked the one marked 2477.  He cut the plastic tape with a Swiss Army Knife he had found with the emergency gear.  “Jeez Louise” he shouted as he peeled back the thin cardboard.  Fresh crisp one hundred dollar bills, more than he had ever seen in his life.  He couldn’t believe his eyes and greedily tore the box completely open.  He had no concept of how much might be there, but the stack was every bit of four inches thick.  “Jeez Louise, money, money, money, today is my lucky day”.  His superstition had completely evaporated by the time he opened the one numbered “3866”.  He was getting giddy and the more he opened the worse it got.  By the time he had them all opened and was looking at a fortune.  He was lightheaded and had to sit down on the road to catch his breathe.  More importantly, he had to think.  This money couldn’t have belonged to the driver of this old rattle trap Buick, if it did wouldn’t he be driving a new car, thought Jasper.  So if it belonged to someone else, what was this old guy doing with it.  What did the numbers mean?  If they were all just about the same why did they have numbers on them.  Jasper’s head was spinning,  he knew he wasn’t the world’s greatest thinker and he figured he had been at long enough.  He decided that he needed it more than anyone he could think of and besides this old guy was dead, so therefore it was now Jasper’s money.



Jasper emptied all of the emergency supplies out of their carrying case and then stuffed in all the bills.  He zipped it shut, put the strap over his shoulder, gave a really nice salute to the dead men and walked off.