Page 77
Story: So Far Gone
“Here I am,” Kinnick said, willing his voice to sound deep and tough.
“Where’s your cop friend?” Dean asked. “He’s not here to bail you out this time?”
“He’s on his way,” Kinnick lied. “With some of his buddies.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” Dean said. “Asher says he’s at some nice lady’s house, recovering from the last time he tangled with us.”
Kinnick breathed deeply, still trying to keep his voice from cracking. “Asher,” he said evenly, “why don’t you go in the house with your mom and Leah while Brother Dean and I talk, okay?”
But Shane kept his hands on the boy’s shoulders. Asher looked up at his father, who continued to stare coldly at Kinnick. Still, of the three men, Shane was clearly the least threatening, and the most unsure of himself. The other two, armed, wearing Kevlar, had come here expecting some kind of battle. Who knew what they’d told poor, gullible Shane. He’d probably expected to find blue-helmeted UN soldiers camped on his father-in-law’s land.
Kinnick gave Shane his most disarming smile and tried again. “Shane, whatever problem you have with me, let’s not put the kids in danger, okay? Maybe take Asher inside? What do you say?” He looked pleadingly at his son-in-law. “And you and Bethany can talk in there. You guys have a lot to figure out.”
Shane looked over at Brother Dean, who still had that grim smile on his face. “Don’t look at me,” Dean said to Shane, “unless you want us to go in there and get your whore wife for you.”
“Shane,” Kinnick said. “Listen to me. These guys arenotwelcome in my house. Or on my land. But if you want to take Asher inside, and talk to Bethany, please, go ahead.”
“Don’t let that woman off the hook, Brother Shane!” Dean said. “?‘For if a man knows not how to rule his own house, how shall he take care of the church of God?’?”
“Come on, Dad.” Asher looked up at Shane. “I’ll show you the house. It’s full of old books. And scratch paper. You know what that is, scratch paper?” He took his father by the hand, and they started for thefront porch. “I jumped over that creek,” he said, pointing beyond the house. “I left my boots there.”
“Wait, you made it?” Kinnick asked as they passed. He put out a hand and Asher high-fived it. “Nice job.” Then Kinnick said quietly to Shane, “Upstairs.” He had told Bethany to take Davy and Leah upstairs and to wait there. He also tried to send Shane a mental message:please, don’t let them get hurt, but he couldn’t read the man’s eyes. When the front door closed, Kinnick turned back to Dean.
“I’ll tell you what,” Kinnick said. “I’ll take Shane back to town with his family. Nice of you to bring him up here, but you guys can head out now.”
“Can we?” Dean Burris laughed. “But I don’t think we’re done talking, Rhys Kinnick, staff writer.” He grinned maliciously. “You know, I had no idea at the chess deal that you were the one who wrote them terrible stories about me back in the day.” He turned to the goateed man. “Did I tell you what this creep called me, Bobby?”
Goateed Bobby, who had presumably heard the story several times, nodded.
“Dominion Eagle Killer!” Dean Burris said. “Man puts it in a headline and everything! Then I go run for county commissioner a few years later, it’s all ‘Dominion Eagle Killer’ in the newspaper and I lose. All because this lousy son of a bitch thought he was being so clever.”
Kinnick recalled that old reporter dodge:I don’t write the headlines. Instead, he said, “I wasn’t the wildlife agent who arrested you. Or the judge who sentenced you.”
“Well, they ain’t here, so I guess you’ll have to do.” Dean took two more steps toward Kinnick, his boots kicking up dust. They were maybe four feet apart, now, Kinnick trying not to back down.
“Look,” Kinnick said, “I’m sorry if—”
But Burris interrupted. “Did you know that I have a copy of them stories you wrote? My mom clipped ’em out. You believe that? And notout of pride, either. How do you think that would make a mother feel, reading those lies about her son, like he’s some kind of criminal?”
In some ways, this was more comfortable territory, defending a story he’d written in the newspaper indon’t-shoot-the-messengerstyle; it made Kinnick think maybe he could get out of this after all. “Look, Dean, I’m really sorry the story affected you that way,” Kinnick said. “It wasn’t my intention. All I was doing was reporting what happened in the courtroom.”
“I’m just saying I didn’t connect your name at first, when Shane told us about his sucker-punching father-in-law. But hell, if I’d known ‘Rhys Kinnick, staff writer’ was the man at that chess deal, I wouldn’t have had Bobby here”—he looked back over his shoulder—“work you over.” He turned back. “No, I’d have done it myself.”
Adrenaline coursed through Kinnick then. He had the urge to rush Dean, but he knew where that would lead. “Look, I didn’t mean to—”
But Dean leaned forward and squinted at Kinnick’s face. “Damn!Did we bust your cheek, Rhys Kinnick, staff writer?”
“Zygomatic arch,” Kinnick said.
“See that, Bobby!” He looked back at the goateed man. “You broke the man’s face! What’s the matter with you? Where’s your manners?”
Bobby chuckled behind Dean.
“Let’s all calm down,” Kinnick said. He felt almost as if he and Dean had been cast in roles; he knew there had to be a way past that. “Let’s not let this situation get out of hand.”
“Calm down?” Dean Burris said. “Oh, I’m calm. And thesituation, as I see it, Rhys Kinnick, staff writer, got out of hand when you brought that lunatic up to the Rampart and he shot my truck. The situation, Rhys Kinnick, is that you got my friend’s lawful-wedded wife in there, along with the pastor’s faggot son, and I don’t see that you have any say in thesituation. In fact, I just have one question for you, Rhys Kinnick, staff writer.” He smiled. “Who has dominion now?”
“Listen—” Kinnick put his hands out in a peaceful gesture.
“Where’s your cop friend?” Dean asked. “He’s not here to bail you out this time?”
“He’s on his way,” Kinnick lied. “With some of his buddies.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” Dean said. “Asher says he’s at some nice lady’s house, recovering from the last time he tangled with us.”
Kinnick breathed deeply, still trying to keep his voice from cracking. “Asher,” he said evenly, “why don’t you go in the house with your mom and Leah while Brother Dean and I talk, okay?”
But Shane kept his hands on the boy’s shoulders. Asher looked up at his father, who continued to stare coldly at Kinnick. Still, of the three men, Shane was clearly the least threatening, and the most unsure of himself. The other two, armed, wearing Kevlar, had come here expecting some kind of battle. Who knew what they’d told poor, gullible Shane. He’d probably expected to find blue-helmeted UN soldiers camped on his father-in-law’s land.
Kinnick gave Shane his most disarming smile and tried again. “Shane, whatever problem you have with me, let’s not put the kids in danger, okay? Maybe take Asher inside? What do you say?” He looked pleadingly at his son-in-law. “And you and Bethany can talk in there. You guys have a lot to figure out.”
Shane looked over at Brother Dean, who still had that grim smile on his face. “Don’t look at me,” Dean said to Shane, “unless you want us to go in there and get your whore wife for you.”
“Shane,” Kinnick said. “Listen to me. These guys arenotwelcome in my house. Or on my land. But if you want to take Asher inside, and talk to Bethany, please, go ahead.”
“Don’t let that woman off the hook, Brother Shane!” Dean said. “?‘For if a man knows not how to rule his own house, how shall he take care of the church of God?’?”
“Come on, Dad.” Asher looked up at Shane. “I’ll show you the house. It’s full of old books. And scratch paper. You know what that is, scratch paper?” He took his father by the hand, and they started for thefront porch. “I jumped over that creek,” he said, pointing beyond the house. “I left my boots there.”
“Wait, you made it?” Kinnick asked as they passed. He put out a hand and Asher high-fived it. “Nice job.” Then Kinnick said quietly to Shane, “Upstairs.” He had told Bethany to take Davy and Leah upstairs and to wait there. He also tried to send Shane a mental message:please, don’t let them get hurt, but he couldn’t read the man’s eyes. When the front door closed, Kinnick turned back to Dean.
“I’ll tell you what,” Kinnick said. “I’ll take Shane back to town with his family. Nice of you to bring him up here, but you guys can head out now.”
“Can we?” Dean Burris laughed. “But I don’t think we’re done talking, Rhys Kinnick, staff writer.” He grinned maliciously. “You know, I had no idea at the chess deal that you were the one who wrote them terrible stories about me back in the day.” He turned to the goateed man. “Did I tell you what this creep called me, Bobby?”
Goateed Bobby, who had presumably heard the story several times, nodded.
“Dominion Eagle Killer!” Dean Burris said. “Man puts it in a headline and everything! Then I go run for county commissioner a few years later, it’s all ‘Dominion Eagle Killer’ in the newspaper and I lose. All because this lousy son of a bitch thought he was being so clever.”
Kinnick recalled that old reporter dodge:I don’t write the headlines. Instead, he said, “I wasn’t the wildlife agent who arrested you. Or the judge who sentenced you.”
“Well, they ain’t here, so I guess you’ll have to do.” Dean took two more steps toward Kinnick, his boots kicking up dust. They were maybe four feet apart, now, Kinnick trying not to back down.
“Look,” Kinnick said, “I’m sorry if—”
But Burris interrupted. “Did you know that I have a copy of them stories you wrote? My mom clipped ’em out. You believe that? And notout of pride, either. How do you think that would make a mother feel, reading those lies about her son, like he’s some kind of criminal?”
In some ways, this was more comfortable territory, defending a story he’d written in the newspaper indon’t-shoot-the-messengerstyle; it made Kinnick think maybe he could get out of this after all. “Look, Dean, I’m really sorry the story affected you that way,” Kinnick said. “It wasn’t my intention. All I was doing was reporting what happened in the courtroom.”
“I’m just saying I didn’t connect your name at first, when Shane told us about his sucker-punching father-in-law. But hell, if I’d known ‘Rhys Kinnick, staff writer’ was the man at that chess deal, I wouldn’t have had Bobby here”—he looked back over his shoulder—“work you over.” He turned back. “No, I’d have done it myself.”
Adrenaline coursed through Kinnick then. He had the urge to rush Dean, but he knew where that would lead. “Look, I didn’t mean to—”
But Dean leaned forward and squinted at Kinnick’s face. “Damn!Did we bust your cheek, Rhys Kinnick, staff writer?”
“Zygomatic arch,” Kinnick said.
“See that, Bobby!” He looked back at the goateed man. “You broke the man’s face! What’s the matter with you? Where’s your manners?”
Bobby chuckled behind Dean.
“Let’s all calm down,” Kinnick said. He felt almost as if he and Dean had been cast in roles; he knew there had to be a way past that. “Let’s not let this situation get out of hand.”
“Calm down?” Dean Burris said. “Oh, I’m calm. And thesituation, as I see it, Rhys Kinnick, staff writer, got out of hand when you brought that lunatic up to the Rampart and he shot my truck. The situation, Rhys Kinnick, is that you got my friend’s lawful-wedded wife in there, along with the pastor’s faggot son, and I don’t see that you have any say in thesituation. In fact, I just have one question for you, Rhys Kinnick, staff writer.” He smiled. “Who has dominion now?”
“Listen—” Kinnick put his hands out in a peaceful gesture.
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