America's Sunset: A Post Apocalyptic Fight for Survival (7 page)

Chapter 13 ~ Dawson

Dawson got to work early that morning, in spite of the fact that his pickup was on the fritz. Likely the alternator gone again, but he could deal with that after work. There’d be time for it, once he got the kids settled down. They were a bit of a handful at the ages of five and eight, but he managed. It was easier now that they were both in school. Maggie was a great help. He really lucked out having a neighbor like her. Not just for the bit of sanity time for himself, but because it gave him the chance to get into work a little earlier. Life as a handyman on a Texas

farm may not have been his first choice for a career, but he figured there were a lot worse places you could end up. This was Texas after all, in all its glory. Big sky, big land, and people with hearts big enough to take it all in.

Jake stopped his truck at the main road leading into the ranch.

“I can drop you off at the gates, it’ll save you a hike down the road, Dawson.”

Dawson got out of the truck, resting a hand on the door. “Ahh, don’t worry about me. The walk will do me some good, and give me a chance to shake the sleep from my eyes. The kids were a bit restless last night. Bad dreams again, so they ended up in my bed. They seem to sleep great, but not so much for me.”

“Yeah, I hear ya, buddy. I remember those days. Can’t say I miss them much, now that mine are older.” Jake paused for a moment. “Well, maybe I miss some of it, but certainly not the sleeping part.”

Dawson managed a smile. “That’s what everyone keeps telling me. Enjoy them while you can.”

“They do grow fast. Believe it or not.” Jake started driving away, then stopped. Leaning back out of the window, he said, “I’ll pick you up a new battery at Frank’s Auto on the way to pick you up after work. We can work on the alternator over a few beers.”

Dawson started to object, but Jake just shook his hand at him and drove away in a cloud of dust. He was going to get his own ride from work, and pick up a battery on the way. If Jake saved him the trip, he might actually get to see the kids before bed tonight. Maggie and Jake kind of reminded him of younger versions of his own parents. Always looking out for others, and helping even without being asked.

No doubt it’s good to have a family like Jake and Maggie nearby. Dawson wondered some days, how he’d manage without them. Maggie still volunteered at the elementary school even though her kids were well past that age. It made things so much easier, that she could just take them to school with her. She was a natural mother. Dawson had gotten their breakfasts ready for them on their favorite cartoon plates, just before Maggie came over like she did every morning. He hated missing them in the mornings, but good jobs weren’t easy to come by these days in Big Springs, Texas. Plus, it couldn’t hurt to be in before the boss every day. He’d still be home in plenty of time for dinner and to put them to bed thanks to Jake.

With the sun just making its way over the horizon, the dew on the cotton fields shone like a white sand beach that stretched for miles. Dawson tried to remember the last time he had a chance to sit on a beach, and couldn’t. Life had been pretty hectic the last few years, and there hadn’t been much time for leisure activity. The kids didn’t seem to mind so much though. As long as they had their dad around they were pretty content. They barely knew what they were missing out on. Dawson knew, and it bothered him. The move from Colorado two years ago was pretty drastic, but the kids took it all in stride. He just needed a change of scenery. A chance to start over. At the rate he was hitting the bottle, it was only a matter of time before everything would have crashed, and he could have lost it all. Ironically, Second Lieutenant Connor had saved his life by nearly beating him to death outside Molly’s Pub one night. While it didn’t seem so at the time, looking back, Dawson knew now he had it coming. Every morning, he said a prayer for Connor beating him straight.

Connor had grown tired of the insubordination but saw something in Dawson that prompted him to make sure he got an honorable discharge instead of a permanent cell in the brig. The marines were the right choice for Dawson, but not for his ex-wife. She loved being the wife of a rodeo star, not a soldier’s wife. A bull named Apocalypso stole that dream from both of them by inflicting a chronic traumatic encephalopathy on Dawson. CTE for short, or concussion in layman’s terms. Dawson never told the military about his CTE when he applied. He figured, it was his head, so his decision. Lisa lasted thirteen months as a soldier’s wife, then called it quits. Dawson never saw it coming. He came home one day, and found the kids at the neighbors’. No note, just a half-empty closet and a drained bank account. Trips to the liquor store got a lot more frequent after that.

Dawson enjoyed the half-mile walk onto the main property. As much as he loved the kids, quiet time for a single parent was a rare commodity, and he took it all in. Today would likely be spent getting that old John Deere to run again. Not exactly the type of machine he worked on in the military, but they’d taught him enough to eventually get things working on most of the old machines around the farm. He seemed to have a knack for it. It was also the reason old man Williams kept him around this long past the harvest. It took a fair number of machines to keep a farm like this going, and a good mechanic was hard to come by. Williams was too frugal to buy new tractors in this economy, which was fine with Dawson, as it kept him busy with something he rather enjoyed. Not as exciting as eight seconds with Apocalypso, but a lot less painful.

Dawson walked under the main farm gate, which simply read Williams Farm. It was supported by two rough-hewn posts twice his height at least. They looked old enough to fall over at any moment. Dawson had suggested he could reinforce them one day, but Bert Williams swore they’d still be standing long after both of them were gone. His great-great-grandfather erected the sign by hand when he started the farm, and they had survived three tornadoes in Bert’s lifetime. At least, three he could remember. Walking through the gate, he gently pounded the post three times for good luck. A throwback to his rodeo days.

There was one more reason he liked to come in early in the morning. Another habit from his rodeo days. Williams kept a small stable of horses in the big barn. The barn was built to hold more horses, but much of the space was taken up with broken machinery still on Dawson’s to-do list. When the late great-great Williams built the barn, they needed more horses to get the work done. Now with the machines, not so much. Dawson always felt the old broken machines in the barn made the horses nervous. It was like they knew they could be replaced with some ugly old metal tractor. He figured it was his duty to visit the horses every morning, to reassure them that there’d always be a place for them. It was hard for Bert to keep even these few horses. They were expensive, and more indulgence than necessity. Bert always said though that having a connection to the past reminds us of who we are, where we come from, and why we do what we do. The economics didn’t always work out that way, but for now the horses were there and happy.

Dawson walked past every stable, and spent a few minutes with each horse, talking and petting them as they nuzzled against his hands. When he got to the last one, he picked up the groomer’s brush and walked into the stall.

“Hello, Hero. Hope you had a good night. Sorry I couldn’t be here yesterday, but we had a bit of an emergency with one of the machines.”

Hero whinnied quietly and nuzzled the back pocket of his pants, while Dawson brushed him down.

“Whatcha looking for, fella? There’s nothing back there.”

Dawson smiled and moved around the front of Hero to brush the other side. Hero sniffed vigorously as Dawson moved past, and pushed the flap of his chest pocket open to reveal the sweet carrot he was looking for. Hero gracefully removed the carrot from his pocket and chewed it up quickly.

“Ah, is that what you were looking for? You were worried when you couldn’t find it in the usual spot, weren’t you?”

Hero shook his head back and forth, throwing his mane in every direction.

“You just did that so I’d have to spend more time brushing you now, didn’t you? There’s no fooling this old cowboy. You pretty horses are all the same.”

Hero leaned towards Dawson with enough gentle force to knock him off balance. Dawson chuckled.

“You’re going to have to try a lot harder than that to knock this old rodeo rat off his feet. I’ve tussled with much tougher customers than you, old boy.” Dawson grabbed the wider bristle brush, and start running it through Hero’s mane. There were plenty of tangles to work out. “Where have you been boy? Your mane is quite the mess. Certainly not acceptable for horse with a name like Hero. You’ll have to share with me sometime how you got that name. I’m sure it’s a great story.”

Hero nodded his head up and down with Dawson’s brushing, but declined to tell any stories.

The sound of the barn door creaking open caught Dawson’s attention.

“You back there, Dawson?” Bert said.

“Yes, sir, Mr. Williams,” Dawson answered as he closed Hero’s stall door behind him.

“You can take the boy out of the rodeo, but I guess you can’t take the rodeo out of the boy, can you?”

“No, sir, you can’t. I figure that’s a good thing though.”

“Well, I reckon the horses would agree. You’re not feeding them again, are you? I don’t need me a bunch of fat, slow horses on this farm. My daddy wouldn’t abide it, and neither would I.”

“No, sir, of course not. Just spending a bit of time saying hi to the boys and girls before I get on with my chores.”

Hero whinnied loudly behind him, as if in disagreement, and the two men shared a smile.

“All right then,” Williams continued. “I just wanted to let you know the baler was jamming sporadically the last time we used it, and I wanted to make sure you knew. We won’t be needing it for a while, and the tractor is still your number one priority, but it still needs tending to.”

“Yes, sir, no problem.”

“I’m heading into the city later today, so you won’t have anyone to keep tabs on you. I’m hoping though you’ll have that tractor running before the end of the day. It’d be one less thing for me to worry about around here.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem. It almost started for me yesterday a couple of times. Anything I can help you with in town?”

“Nope. I’m good. I’m not so old that I can’t handle a few uppity big city lawyers on my own.”

“Anything I should be worried about?”

“You fix the tractors, I’ll worry about the lawyers. It’s still my farm for now.”

Dawson nodded silently, and Williams’ face softened slightly.

“Don’t worry, boy, it’s just another bullshit corporation that wants to get its hands on this fine piece of Texas farmland. It won’t happen while I still draw breath. Not with my family farm. You’ll still have a job tomorrow.”

Dawson smiled back.

“Sorry, sir, wasn't trying to be nosy.”

“I know you’ve got a family, Dawson. That’s not nosy, it’s just looking out for those you’re responsible for. I can respect that.”

Dawson nodded, but said nothing.

“Tomorrow’s another day, boy. So, get your ass back to work. That tractor isn’t going to fix itself. It’ll be up and running tomorrow when you show up, and my horses will be even fatter than they already are. Right?” Bert nodded, agreeing with himself.

“Yes, of course it will be,” Dawson said emphatically as Williams headed out the barn door.

Chapter 14 ~ Miss Charlie

“Hey, Chase, are you still up there?” Dawson yelled up the quiet stairs to Chase’s bedroom. Silence. He tried yelling again with the same results. Just as he started up the stairs, Veronica appeared from down the hallway and started down the stairs. She was holding a doll and whispering something into its ear.

“Have you seen your brother?” Dawson asked. Veronica pulled the doll in a little tighter, and pretended that she didn’t hear anything. Just as she was about to pass, Dawson put his hand out to stop her.

“It’s OK, sweetie, you’re not going to get in trouble for ratting out your brother or anything. I just want to know where he is.”

She clutched her doll tighter. “You really like that new doll, don’t you?” Dawson smiled and sat down on the step, motioning Veronica to do the same. She sat and cuddled next to him. Dawson smiled as he put his arm around her. He could remember sitting on the steps with her mom and having talks with Chase when he was about Veronica’s age. It seemed to be a bit of a family tradition. Always stopping to talk on the stairs. It seemed to happen mostly when trouble was brewing. The stairs were neutral territory, and seemed to help the kids say what was on their mind. In their rooms, they’d just hide under their sheets, and in Mom and Dad’s room they’d barely set foot in, then bolt the second they were given permission. The stairs were just comfortable for everyone.

“What did he do now?” Veronica asked.

“Well, he didn’t actually do anything. It’s what he didn’t do. There were a few chores he missed, and he did say he wanted to do some fishing at the river, but I don’t think he’s even looked for his fishing rod.”

“Oh. Hmmm.”

“That’s not really much of an answer, pumpkin. Do you know where he is?”

“Yeah, but you’re going to be mad.”

“I promise I won’t be mad,” Dawson replied, but apparently not convincingly enough based on the silence.

“Can I bribe you?” Dawson tried again.

Veronica looked at her doll for a second, then nodded her head slightly.

“Hmmm now.” Dawson paused briefly, rubbing his chin in mock wonder. “I wonder what a little girl with a brand new doll would like more than anything in the world.”

Veronica’s seriousness started to crack just a glimmer.

“I bet that a little girl with a new doll would love nothing better than to wash up the dinner dishes together.”

The glimmer of a smile quickly disappeared from her face.

“Oh, OK. Bad guess, Dad. There must be something she’d like to do. I know.” Dawson raised his hand, pointing his index finger. “I bet that she’d simply love to scrub the toilets with the help of her new little friend.”

“Ahhh c'mon, Dad, that’s really gross. Do you have any idea how disgusting Chase is in there?”

“Oh wow, is that right? I am such a terrible guesser. I’m gonna have to let you give it a shot. Maybe the perfect little girl sitting next to me might have a better idea. I remember someone telling me that girls are way smarter than boys, so maybe you could help me out here.”

The glimmer of a smile broke into outright giggles. She pulled the doll from its hiding place against her chest, and propped her up facing her Dad. “As a matter of fact, I do have the perfect idea. Miss Charlie …”

“Oh, so you’ve given her a name now I see.” Dawson nodded approvingly.

“Dad, don’t interrupt. It’s rude,” she answered with as stern a face as possible, still unable to restrain the giggles.

“It’s a very nice name,” Dawson continued, nodding even more earnestly.

“You’re still interrupting, Dad.”

“Sorry, sorry … no more,” Dawson added contritely as he mimed a zipper closing across his lips.

“Miss Charlie and I would love to have your company at our next tea party.”

“That sounds perfect. I’d love to come,” he replied instantly, rubbing his hands in anticipation. “When is it?”

“Right as soon as we head up the stairs to my room of course.” Veronica mustered her cutest ‘pleassssse-daddy’ smile ever.

“Fine, fine,” Dawson agreed reluctantly. “But don’t forget your part of the bargain.”

“He’s in his room.”

“I called up already, he didn’t answer. Are you sure?”

“He’s got headphones on.”

“Headphones? Why? Wait. He’s not playing that damn game again, is he?” Dawson started up the stairs two at a time.

“Dad, wait. What about our tea party?” Veronica’s bottom lip drooped ever so slightly.

“Just give me a few minutes. Right after I talk with your brother about the video game rules around here again.” Dawson turned back up the stairs.

Before he could reach the top step though: “Dad, you promised me. Me and Miss Charlie. It’s the first promise you ever made her. You can’t break the first promise you make someone. They’ll never trust you again.”

Dawson’s hand rested on the topmost stair post and he looked skyward, rolling eyes which Veronica couldn’t see. “You’re right, of course,” he answered, turning around. “You’re absolutely right. I couldn’t do that.”

Veronica smiled as she took her dad’s hand at the top of the stairs and directed him towards her room.

Dawson couldn’t help but think just how clever kids could be. Especially this one. It’s like she knew a fifteen-minute tea party would take all the fight out of him, and probably save a major clash with his son.

“You’re quite the little peacemaker aren’t you, kiddo?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dad. I’m no peacemaker. Whatever that is. I’m just a little girl who loves having tea parties with her dad … and Miss Charlie.”