Words Come First

During the decades I spent trying to build muscle in the left side of my brain, I always admired those who were strong on the other side, the creative side. When I began to write, I noticed that songwriters and poets could tell a story in seventy words that might take me seven hundred or more (and their words rhymed). Of course, this was back in the good old days when songs did tell stories.

As I try to build mind pictures for my readers, I sometimes play inspiring background music and wish that I could put that music in my words. More often than not, the music is played only in my mind. 

When I see a book converted to a movie done well, I envy the music and cinematography that can thrill us, inspire us, fill us up with emotion and make us overflow. Writers have to make do with written words on a printed page, and nowadays, on the screen of the latest gadget.

Remember that sweeping panoramic view of Montana mountains and valleys at the end of The Horse Whisperer as Tom Booker watched Annie Maclean drive away to music that tugged at our heartstrings?

We writers try to achieve that affect in at least one or two scenes in a book (some try to do it on every page), but we just don’t have the visual effects and the sound. Still, if there had been no story told, no novel, no screenplay, there would have been no movie, no soundtrack, and no music. Words always come first, and we can take comfort in that.

Hot Checks and Hogs the Final Chapter

It is well past midnight when Burl steps out into the cold yard at home.  The house is dark.  He holds the truck door that Weldon is trying to close.  “You owe me eighty-five more dollars, Weldon, and you damn sure gonna pay me this time.”

Months pass before Burl sees Weldon again.  He does see Weldon’s horses being shod by another farrier, though, and wonders if Weldon will pay the other fella with a hot check. His question is answered two months later as Burl leaves his house before daylight on a particularly hot Saturday morning and sees Weldon’s horses tied in his horse lot, waiting to be shod. Burl grunts. "Must have written that other farrier a hot check."

He sits down to smoke a cigarette as he stares at Weldon’s horses and waits for good daylight.  Other customers drop off their horses and Burl takes them in order.  It is close to five o’clock when he finishes with all the other customers’ horses.  Weldon’s horses’ hooves are still long and cracked, their shoes missing nails. 

It is after midnight when Weldon parks his truck and trailer in the dark lane north of Burl’s barn.  He walks a quarter mile on the dusty road in silence and tries to keep the gate hinges from squeaking as he enters the horse lot.  He uses the light of the moon to check the horses’ new shoes.  Satisfied and a little surprised, he is untying lead ropes when he sees the red tip of Burl’s cigarette emerge from the moonlight shadows. 

“Damn, Burl, you bout scared the livin’ shit outta  me.  Whatchu doin sneakin round here so late at night?”

Burl drops his cigarette and grounds it out with his boot.  “I live here.” 

“Listen, Burl, I hate to be so late gettin’ back an all, but I didn’t get finished haulin’ till after dark, then …”

“Was you gonna leave without payin’ me again, Weldon?”

“Aw, naw, Burl.  Shoot, I was gonna write you a check and leave it over there under the anvil way I always do.”  He walked toward the anvil.  “Didn’t you find that last check I left over there?”

“I got two of them checks in my pocket here.  Both of ‘em hot enough to bend a horseshoe.”

“Well, now, I had no idea.  That mighta been the time I was having trouble with that damn bank makin’ mistakes on me.  Try runnin’ them things through again.”

“Ran 'em through twice.  They burnin' a hole in my pocket right now.”

“You’d thank them bank people could keep up better.”

“Them mistakes usually happen a lot when you don’t put no money in your account, Weldon.”

Weldon nods vigorously and studies his boots.  “Tell you what, I’ll just write you a check to cover today’s shoes and them other two checks.  Let me just load these horses and get my checkbook out of the pickup pocket.  I parked aways down the road to keep from wakin’ you and Lillie.”  Weldon starts to lead the horses out of the lot but they refuse to budge.  He looks down to see what is the trouble and finds a chain that locks a leg of each horse to a corral post.

“You owe me for today and them two hot checks, Weldon.  Plus eighty-five dollars for that hog trip.”

“Now Burl, you know I can’t afford to carry that kind of money on me.  Places I go, it might get a man killed.  Why don’t I just come by here first thing Monday morning and bring the cash?”

“That’ll be fine.  Knew you wouldn’t have it. You just pick which one of them horses you think the least of and I’ll keep it till I get my money.  If you ain’t brought it by the end of Monday, I’ll be takin' it to the Tuesday sale.”

Burl almost feels a twinge of pity as Weldon sees he is trapped.  “What did you ever do with them hogs, anyway, Weldon?”

“Was gonna have one butchered and put in the freezer.  Sell the rest and have one to eat free and clear.”

“Who bought 'em?”

Weldon shook his head, slumped his shoulders.  “Nobody.  Was always scared of hogs and they all got away when I was trying to unload the trailer.”

Hot Checks and Hogs Part Three

When the man pulls the first hog from the pen and hands it to Weldon, he cringes, drops it and the hog scoots between Clayton’s legs and on down the lane fenced with hog wire.  When he drops the second one, Burl pushes him out of the way.  “Man comes four hours from home to get hogs and turns out to be scared of ‘em.  See if you can at least work the gate.  I’ll hand off the hogs.”

When eight hogs are safely loaded in the trailer, the man locks the two he intends to keep in the pen and heads off down the lane with a catch dog to try and find the escapees.  “They might be down at the end of this here lane.  There’s a fence that might hold ‘em for a while.  I’ll be back drekly.”

When the man is out of sight, Weldon cranks the pickup and tells them to get in.

Burl puts his hands over Tess’s ears.  “What the hell you doin’?  You gon’ drive off without paying the man for his hogs?”

“You think he wants money for ‘em?  Ain’t as if they was big hogs.”

Burl drops his head and shakes it.  “Now why in hell would I think that?  Man probably advertised free hogs and had to wait for us to drive two hundred miles to pick ‘em up.  Not as if anybody around here would take free hogs.  I’m sure he’s grateful to us for takin’ ‘em off his hands.”

After a few more minutes, Weldon cranks up again.  “Looks like he ain’t comin’ back, so I guess we’ll just go on.  Got to get Tess back to her mama before midnight.”

Burl crawls into the back seat again.  “Sheriff will probably pull us over before we get ten miles and throw us all in jail for stealin’ them damn hogs.”

“Shit!”  Weldon brakes as his headlights reveal the owner of the hogs and his hog dog standing in the middle of the road.  Weldon rolls down the window.  “We owe you anything for them worthless hogs?”

“Well, I was gonna try to get fifteen apiece for ‘em and you got ten, countin’ the two you let get away.  They long gone.”

Weldon turns toward Burl and whispers.  “How much is that?”

Burl stares.  “Damn, Weldon.  It’s a hundred and fifty dollars.”

Weldon keeps looking at Burl.  “Damn.  I ain’t got that much.”

Clayton comes out of his stupor.  “See if you can talk him outa payin’ for them two that got away.”

Weldon yells out.  “Listen, feller, we don’t think we oughta have to pay for them two got away.”

“Well, all right then.  I guess maybe me and the dogs can trap ‘em again.  You owe fifteen apiece for the ones that’s left.”

Weldon turned toward Burl again.  “How much is that?”

“Damn, Weldon.  It’s one-twenty.”

“How much you got on you?’

“Me?  Why you askin’ me?  Hell, I don’t want no wild hogs.  Ain’t got no use for ‘em.  Lillie ain’t gonna be happy with me comin’ home late as it is.  Throw me plumb out if I bring home a bunch of hogs.”

“Ain’t askin’ you to keep ‘em, just loan me and Clayton the money till we can get home.”

“You and Clayton come all the way down here to buy hogs and didn’t bring no money?  See now why you stopped to pick me up.”

Weldon turns to look at Clayton.  “How much you got, Clayton?”

Clayton pulls two twenties from his Levis and hands them to Weldon.  He looks at Burl, who is feeling trapped inside the cab and is ready to be home.  He pulls out all his cash.  Eighty-five dollars.  “How much you got, Weldon?”

Weldon pulls four twenties from Burl’s hand and thrusts six twenties through the open window at the man as he pulls away.

Burl looks at his remaining five spot.  “How much did you give to this here hog buy, Weldon?”

Weldon drives in silence until they come to a set of golden arches.  Tess whispers in her father’s ear.  Weldon looks straight ahead.  “You just want one of them damn toys, is all.  You can’t be hungry.”  He inclines his head slightly toward Burl as he pulls off the road and into the McDonald’s entrance. “She wants one of them damn Wacky Packs.” 

Burl shakes his head.  “I think Wacky Packs come from Sonic, Weldon.”

Weldon lets Tess shout her order into the machine and eases forward to pick it up. As he turns the corner, they see a man sticking half his body out the order window and waving frantically.

Weldon waves back.  “Whatcha figger that feller wants?  Damn, feller, we ain’t gonna drive off.  We gonna pay.  Just need to get up to you, is all.  Hold your damn horses.”  As Weldon rolls down his window, he hears the sound of metal popping, of screws being torn loose from sheet iron.  The awning comes to rest on the trailer with a sickening thud. 

Weldon steps out of the truck, looks at the awning resting on the trailer before turning back to the attendant.  “Damn.  You boys ought to make them damn things taller.  You got that Wacky Pack?”

Tess takes the sack and Weldon reaches an open hand toward Burl.  “Plumb forgot I used up all my money back there with them hogs.  Can you let me have another few dollars?” 

Burl looks into Tess’s pleading eyes before handing over his last five dollars.  Weldon takes the change from the shocked attendant and pockets it.  “We ain’t gonna charge you nothin’ for the damage to my trailer, but you boys need to replace that awning with a taller one.”  The awning clatters to the concrete as Weldon jerks the truck away.

Next—home with the hogs.

Hot Checks and Hogs Part 2

The highway patrolman remains in his patrol car, probably running plates, long enough for Weldon to hand his open beer back to Burl and to get Tess set down and buckled in.  While the trailer blocks the patrolman’s view, Burl tosses three beers out the window.  Weldon steps out on the highway just as the patrolman reaches the door.  The strong odor of spilled beer wafts back to Burl’s nostrils.  He imagines calling Lillie to get him out of jail.

The patrolman puts a hand on his baton.  “Stay inside the vehicle, sir.”

“Yes, sir.”  Weldon puts one hand in the air as if surrendering but stays outside.  He puts the other hand on the patrolman’s elbow as if to guide him away from the vehicle and makes as if to whisper in the man’s ear, but the patrolman backs away.  Weldon nods toward Tess.  “You see, officer, sir, my little girl, she had a bad experience back home with a bad man who just happened to wear a uniform same color as yours. No offense, and I have tried to explain to her about how they ain’t nuthin' to fear from you folks, but she just goes to screamin’ when she sees one of you.”

The patrolman glances toward Tess, who is gazing out the side window, about to nod off again. 

Weldon tries again.  “Pore little thing.  Lost her mama and all.”

Burl glances at the patrolman, who appears to be buying Weldon’s line of bullshit.  He is not happy with Weldon using the little girl this way.  He whispers to Clayton.  “Lost her mama after she left his sorry ass.”

The patrolman tickets Weldon for expired trailer tags and leaves without looking inside the truck.  When Burl judges they have come about two hundred miles, he is riled.  “Wait just a damn minute.  When we gonna get to them pigs?  Already be past dark before we get back if we stopped and turned around right now.”

Weldon takes his eyes off the road and turns again.  “See, Burl, this feller I know works for TXU told me about this feller has hogs down around these coal mines.”

“Coal mines?  Well, I’ll be damned.  You told me we was goin’ just the other side of Emory.  Now how much farther is it?”

Weldon cricks his neck enough to glance back at the road.  “Well, he said the man lives right around these coal mines in a big house with three garages.  Said they would hold two cars apiece.”

Burl leans over the front seat and glances at Tess, still asleep.  “Weldon, you better get to tellin’ me where the hell we goin’ or turn this sumbitch around and head home.  I told Lillie I’d be home around dark.”

“Man’s got three garages.  How hard could he be to find?”

Burl hangs his head.  “You don’t know his damn name or where he lives, do you.”

Clayton snickers. 

Several stops for directions later and well past dark, they find the huge house with three double garages set well back into the woods.  Clayton whistles under his breath.  “What the hell is a man owns a house like that doin’ with wild hogs?”

Weldon feels vindicated.  “Traps ‘em cause they come up in his yard at night and make a mess.”

They stare at the garages until Burl loses patience.  “Dammit, Weldon.  You gonna get out or not?  Let’s get the damn hogs and get on home.”

Weldon has one foot on the driveway when one garage door rolls halfway up.  Two rottweilers emerge from the open door and stare at Weldon as if he is supper arriving late.   Weldon steps back into the truck and rolls the window half down. 

Burl rudely pushes the back of Weldon’s head with the heel of his hand.  “Go on ahead and get out.  I don’t think they gonna bite.”  Clayton laughs.  Burl feels trapped because he can’t get out of the back seat without waking Tess. 

Finally, a man appears with twin leashes for the dogs and lets them lead him out of the garage. 

Weldon sticks his head out the window but won’t step out of the pickup.  “We lookin’ for a man with hogs for sale.”

The man nods and points.  “That would be my caretaker.  He traps them.  Lives about a half mile on down this road.”

Burl grits his teeth.  “Thought you said the man we lookin’ for lived in this big house.”

Weldon backs out of the driveway and points the pickup down the road in the direction of the pointed finger.  “Coulda sworn that was what the man said.”

Fifteen minutes later, they are inside a fenced area and backing Weldon’s stock trailer up to another trailer with pens full of hogs.  The overalled owner has twelve hogs and wants to keep the two that have what he calls a pure feral look.  “I’m willin’ to part with ten.”

Weldon opens the gate to his trailer.  “Them’s awful little hogs.  How we gonna load ‘em?”

“Easy. I’ll just reach in the pen and grab ‘em by the legs one at a time and hand ‘em over to you.  You throw ‘em toward the front of your trailer.  One of you other fellers can get in the trailer and work the middle gate.” 

Clayton, woozy now, agrees to act like another back gate and stand guard in case one slips away.  He and the open trailer gate make a narrow hall for the hogs to be handed through.  As Burl eases into the trailer, the lights reflect enough to show that Weldon has gone white.