Broken to Pieces Page 2

  "Don't you worry, miss. Some things have to come looking for you."

  The single traveler, known only as Tex, was an ornery old man who loved his guns almost as much as a good glass of whiskey.

  Almost.

  His nightly drink glistened in the tumbler near his plate, casting an amber shadow onto the white table cloth below it. When he wasn't eating with the family or drinking on the porch, he was up in the mountains with the menagerie of rifles that he brought with him. There were so many that he always had to leave behind a few behind, along with the distinct impression that he wasn't happy about it.

  Tex swirled the glass and raised it to his mouth. Before the drink passed his lips, the very corners of his scraggly moustache twitched gleefully.

  "Mmmm," he smacked his lips together. "That's the ticket right there."

  "So Tex," Emily leaned forward in her seat, "I hear you're an okay shot."

  His weathered face dropped into an exaggerated frown for a second before he bellowed out a hearty laugh. He smacked the table with his palm, sending everyone's plates up into the air by almost an inch, and pointed a finger at Emily's father.

  "Did you put this poor girl up to speaking such nonsense?!"

  Carl just laughed and shook his head. Tex turned back to the young woman and raised a fist.

  "Why, I'm the best shot for a hundred…no, a thousand miles around. Maybe the best in the whole damn country!"

  Barbara choked on her peas.

  "Sorry about the French, ma'am. Sometimes I just can't help myself."

  Emily's mom piped up, "You know, he builds his own targets with stuff he finds around the property. He doesn't want to admit it, but Tex here is quite creative."

  He waved his hand as if to dismiss the thought and shoveled fork-full of meat behind his crooked, yellowing teeth.

  Emily looked over at her dad.

  "You said that there's one more guy coming, right?"

  "Yes, there is." Carl blotted the corners of his mouth and continued, "His name is Adam. I don't know much about him besides the fact that he is coming up here to work on a project."

  Greg looked up from his plate and spoke softly, "What kind of project?"

  "I'm not sure. I guess we will find out eventually, won't we?'

  Everyone around the table nodded in agreement.

  Later on that evening, after Gary and Barbara had turned in and Emily was finished helping her mom with the dishes, she wound up on the porch with Tex as he polished off the last of his daily liquor ration.

  The sun had long since set, leaving behind an inky landscape below the endless swath of stars above. From somewhere out in the swaying fields of burgeoning blossoms, a few early crickets sounded their song for anyone who would listen.

  "So," Tex asked over the steady creaking of the swing that he was sitting on, "you grew up here?"

  His words were surprisingly crisp.

  Emily, seated on the top of the stairs leading up to the wrap-around porch, leaned forward with her elbows on her knees and her face cupped in her hands. She looked out over the familiar woods surrounding them and savored every sweet gust that rolled over the landscape.

  "Yep. All my life."

  Tex tapped the plastic bottle against the arm rest. Its hollow ring made the portly, graying old man sigh. He leaned forward and dropped it down onto the porch.

  "Did you enjoy it?"

  "I guess…," her voice trailed off when she looked up to the blanket of stars. They never looked like that in California. "You don't really know what you're missing until you get out into the world and see it for yourself, you know?"

  "Ah yup," he patted his belly and burped. "But you're always going to be missing something no matter where you go."

  "I guess that's true."

  Emily stretched her legs out and bounced her heels against the bottom stair.

  "Is your name really Tex? Is that what your parents named you: Tex from Texas?"

  "Well why not?!"

  Emily laughed and finally turned around to face him, resting her back against a peeling, vertical beam.

  "You don't think that maybe 'Tex from Texas' is a little much?"

  "There is no such thing as too much Texas, young lady, and you would do well to remember that!"

  "Whatever you say, boss."

  "You're all right, kid," he leaned back in the chair and rested his hands behind his heavy head. "You should come shootin' with me sometime."

  Emily paused briefly before answering, "Sure thing. That would be fun."

  "You bet your ass it would be!"

  His crooked teeth were locked in a sincere, albeit drunken, grin. Emily was surprised how he could look like the hottest of messes and yet still speak like not a single drop of liquor had passed his lips. His thinned hair was disheveled and stuck up in several different directions. One half of the bottom of his shirt had come un-tucked and flapped loosely over the soft breeze, exposing skin so pale that it almost glowed on its own. His wrinkled eyes were almost closed.

  He was quickly rocking himself to sleep.

  "Tex?"

  His head snapped up.

  "Huh? What?"

  "Maybe you should go inside.

  "I, uh," he wiped the spit away from his mouth with the back of his sleeve, "maybe you're right."

  Emily leaned her head back until it rested on the antique wood.

  "I would bet money on it."

  "I'll take-"

  He stood up from the swing and wobbled so dramatically that it made Emily flinch. She thought for sure that he was going to tumble right down the stairs but he somehow managed to grab onto the guard rail just in time. He pointed a swaying finger at Emily.

  "-I'll take that bet!"

  Emily laughed and said to him, "Goodnight, Tex from Texas."

  With that, the unstable cowboy staggered into the house and disappeared from sight, leaving behind the creaking swing. Emily could almost see him stumbling out of an old West saloon, with his rugged features and his Texas swagger.

  "Maybe in another life," she mused out loud and let her head fall to the side.

  When she opened her eyes again just a second later, the verdant peaks and hills whispered as countless leaves rubbed up against one another. Though she couldn't see it, Emily could hear each ripple in the air as they rolled in from the Northeast and continued onto wherever they wanted.

  Something about it was so soothing; so peaceful.

  In a flash, Emily's mind raced back into the darkened woods. She thought again about the old man's story, but it wasn't the only thing on her mind. The smell in the air evoked a handful of other nights from her youth, pulling up a myriad of different emotions that swirled together on the wind. She could feel the rough bark on her fingertips and the soft caress of fresh leaves between her toes. The lingering taste of popsicles tickled the back of her throat. For a moment, she forgot the warm California sun completely.

  Emily slept on the groaning swing that night, lulled to sleep by the dancing breeze and the warm embrace that only home can give.

  Chapter 2

  Almost three weeks after arriving back home, Emily woke up to the sound of someone stomping up the hall leading to her door. She rolled over in her bed and rubbed her eyes with the backs of her palms.

  "Even his boots sound like Texas," she mumbled to herself.

  A second later, Tex knocked on her door.

  "You up, miss?"

  Emily stretched out in her bed and yawned again.

  "Yeah."

  She threw her legs over the side and forced herself up. Waiting on the other side of her door, the old man had his thumbs hitched into the loops that held up his snake-skin belt. His wide-brimmed hat was tucked under his arm with a kind of tenderness that surprised Emily a little.

  It almost looked like he was cradling a baby.

  When he saw Emily, he nodded his head at her, "Morning, miss."

  "Good morning, Tex. What can I do for you at this fine hour?"

  H
e suddenly looked a little flustered.

  "Oh, I'm sorry miss. I didn't mean to bother you or anything."

  Emily thought that his humble nature was charming. He was, in his own way, a unique force in the world. His jokes were crass, but the kindness of his soul often cut right through the words that he spoke. Nobody could be mad at good 'ole Tex from Texas. Not for very long, anyway, as was the case on that warm morning at the tail end of May.

  "You're not bothering me, Tex. What's up?"

  He smiled and clenched his arm around his hat a little tighter.

  "You said you would go shooting with me, remember?"

  Emily was shocked that he remembered, considering he could barely walk. In fact, she had hoped that he wouldn't. Considering her docile, almost timid nature, firing a gun was running at the very bottom of her list of must-do activities. All that she could think about was accidentally shooting herself or someone else. The thought of it made her physically ill.

  In spite of her mind screaming no, she nodded her head.

  "Well today's the day, missy. Now get dressed and let's get out there before it gets much hotter."

  He plucked his shirt away from his chest and let it fall back down, sending a little puff of air up into the wild grays framing his head.

  "Is this kind of heat normal?"

  Emily watched as he pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket and wiped the glistening beads of sweat from his forehead.

  "No, not really."

  "Praise Jesus," he exclaimed and shoved the blue rag back into his faded jeans. "I'll wait for ya down in the living room."

  "You got it."

  Tex nodded and walked back the way that he came. Something about the old man was captivating to her. She wasn't able to put her finger on it, but every time that he was around she felt nostalgic. In his own way, he personified every kind elderly man who had passed through over the years.

  Emily dressed herself slowly in a pair of old jeans, a tank top and an abused, sad looking pair of sneakers. Her stomach was tied up in nervous knots at the prospect of wielding a deadly weapon. Unfortunately, though, she had procrastinated long enough and made her way to meet the playful old man and his arsenal.

  As soon as Tex caught sight of her, he jumped up from his seat on the couch and patted his belly.

  "You ready for some good, old-fashioned fun, miss?"

  "Of course," she lied.

  "Well let's go then!"

  The two of them hopped into her father's rusty work truck and started up into the undulating hills behind the Chickweed Inn. Beneath them, the rickety truck groaned with every pot hole and rock that littered the back roads leading up to a modest peak known as Salt Pond Mountain.

  About an hour into their quiet car ride, Tex pulled off of the road and killed the engine.

  "Here we are."

  "Fantastic."

  Emily kicked her door open and stood up to stretch. When she turned away from the truck, her arms still extended over her head, she caught sight of one of Tex's infamous targets.

  The thing was an old coffee can that had been spray-painted a deep green that matched the surrounding foliage almost perfectly. Attached to it were some leaves and even a few feathers. Near the top, a tiny thread of fishing wire suspended it from a nearby branch. With even the slightest breeze, the camouflaged can would buckle and sway erratically.

  "Do you like it?"

  Emily turned around to face Tex, who had a rifle in each hand.

  "It sure is something."

  He grinned and shrugged his shoulders, "Now I never claimed that they were pretty, miss."

  "I don't know." She looked back at the target. "It has its own unique charm. Kind of like you."

  "Ha," Tex exclaimed. "I will just assume that was a compliment."

  Emily looked around again, this time catching sight of many more targets that she failed to notice before. No two were the same, but all of them danced around on the almost constant wind. One of them would bob up and down while another would flash its gold bottom as it rocked back and forth, its beaded extension clattering up against its belly.

  "Those actually aren't that bad, Tex."

  "You mean my targets?"

  Emily nodded.

  "Well thank you."

  He held one of the guns out to her. Just looking at the shining barrel made her skin crawl, sending a chill racing through her spine. For a fleeting moment, Emily hesitated. For some reason, she had the same tense feeling in her gut as the night she lost her virginity. There was something about the anticipation of it that made her feel like her head was going to explode.

  Before she could back out, Tex forced the weapon into her hand. The cold steel made Emily shiver.

  "Come on now," he told her. "It's not that bad."

  "I guess…," her voice trailed off as her eyes traced the long barrel down to the intricately carved handle. The longer that she looked at it, the more detail came out. There was a deer next to a flowing tree, surrounded by spiraling swirls that gradually faded into the maple wood. Near the butt of the weapon, the shining varnish had been stripped away from countless encounters with people's shoulders over the years.

  "How long have you had this thing, Tex?"

  The old man was already a good distance ahead of her. He paused, turned around and considered the question. Emily could almost hear the rusty old gears turning in his head.

  "Well, my uncle had it made for me when I turned sixteen. So that would make it fifty-four years old, I reckon."

  He motioned for her to follow him and turned his attention back to the trees ahead. Emily followed close behind, still transfixed on the gun's details. Even though it was worn down in a lot of places, she was lost wondering about the kinds of things that the weapon had seen. It was almost too easy to picture the young Tex running around his namesake home, causing all kinds of hell.

  Had he ever shot a deer with it? Is that what it was meant for?

  "Have you ever shot someone?"

  The question left her mouth before she thought better of asking a question like that. Tex stopped in his tracks and rubbed just beneath the brim of his hat, but he didn't turn to face her.

  "Not with any of these guns, miss Emily."

  Emily was a little stunned by his admission.

  What do you say to something like that, she wondered to herself.

  "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"

  'No, no," he said in a slightly more reserved tone than usual, "it's okay. I was sent off to 'Nam in nineteen sixty-nine. That's why."

  "What was that like?"

  Tex finally turned around. When he did, the mischievous sparkle in his eye was a little dimmer.

  "Well," he leaned against the tree to his right and rubbed his belly absentmindedly. "I will say that I have never seen such a cluster-fuck in all of my days and I hope that I never have to see something like that again. As much as people can say 'war is hell', you never really understand the ugly face of battle until you seen it yourself."

  He paused briefly before continuing.

  "Of course I wish that nobody would have to live through something like that. Especially not a nice girl like yourself."

  Emily smiled.

  "Well you're in luck. I don't see myself fighting any wars any time soon."

  Tex nodded and immediately changed the subject, much to Emily's relief.

  "Come over here and look at this," he said and pointed off into the trees.

  Emily walked over to his side and looked out but saw nothing. She squinted her eyes and scanned the thick, green canopy.

  "Look at what, exactly?"

  "Over here," Tex pointed again. That time, however, Emily saw what he was directing her to.

  Several hundred feet away, a tiny can sat perched in the trees. Its outside had been camouflaged and the inside was stained a pure black. From where they were standing it looked like a little green olive.

  "You expect me to hit that?"

  Tex chortled.

 
"No, but I expect you to try."

  Emily shrugged her shoulders and raised the gun up into position. Her hands were shaking so violently that the business end of the weapon danced in figure-eights in front of her. Deep inside, the apprehension felt like it was killing her.

  Her delicate finger moved forward and settled on top of the trigger with the tiniest hint of pressure. Emily's heart started to flutter and she inhaled deeply, letting the sweet mountain air fill her lungs. When they were full, she held her breath and closed her eyes. The only sound she heard was her raging heartbeat in the depths of her ears.

  CRACK!

  The thundering explosion echoed through the trees.

  "Well?" Tex put his hand on her shoulder, breaking her out of her adrenaline-induced trance.

  Emily snapped her eyes open and started to breathe again. It had only been a second, but she felt dizzy.

  "Yeah?"

  Tex leaned in and sighed, "We might have to practice a little more."

  She looked out to the target.

  "Was I close?"

  He laughed and slipped the rifle out of her hand.

  "Well were you aiming for the sky?" He took a step back and continued, "Because if you were then yeah, you were mighty close!"

  A hint of a smile cracked Emily's concentrated expression.

  "I'll take what I can get, I guess."

  Tex chuckled, "Ain't nothing wrong with that, kid…nothing wrong with that at all."

  —

  When Emily and Tex dragged their tired feet back onto the family's property, the sun was already setting and the moon was full and shining in the Eastern skies. The two of them stomped up onto the porch and collapsed onto the noisy swing near the back door.

  "You know, that was actually pretty fun."

  Tex smiled and grunted while he kicked off his dusty boots. Underneath, his socks looked almost as dirty.

  "Good," he said and rubbed his feet against each other. "I'm glad you liked it."

  Emily jabbed the ornery Texan with her elbow.

  "You're not so bad for an old man."

  He adjusted the comically over-sized belt buckle underneath his round belly with one hand and pulled his hat off with the other.