Silverbow (3 page)

CHAP
TER 2

My truck purred down my driveway and echoed loudly under the metal shelter that extended off the side of the house instead of a garage. A few yards past the house was a huge three door garage with an office. Sadly it was only used for business. I promised myself that if I ever had a surplus of cash I would build a garage for my personal use too.  The house was old and had been added onto generation after generation. Now it was perfect for a huge family and there was no family to fill it.

My boots hit the sand that had blown over the paved driveway as I climbed out of my truck and locked her up. I often wondered why anyone bothered to pave anything out here. The sand was relentless. I glanced out in the yard to see the swinging white sign with our logo and company name on it. I smiled, remembering when my father let me pick out the logo of a black tire engulfed in flames.

I made my way up the steps and onto the wrap around porch that circled the pale yellow house with white trim. I avoided the front screen door and slipped past it and the windows that peered into the living room. I turned around in front of an old porch swing and took a seat. The wood creaked beneath me and the rusting chain groaned with each pass.

I closed my eyes and found my father out in the front yard chasing our old black lab around. The dog’s name was Daxo. He was a good dog.

I was barely eighteen and sitting on the front steps cleaning parts for my father’s motorcycle. He threw a stick across the yard and Daxo chased it down.

“Dad, can I take the car to Shady’s later,” I asked. A few friends were meeting up to have a burger and then we’d find a place to build a fire and hang out.  I could see Dad shake his head. “Why not,” I pouted and tossed the grease covered rag onto the step beside me. Pouting never helped so I don’t know why I had bothered.

“Dakota, we have gone over this before. This isn’t the place for you to be out on your own. You are growing up and looking…well,” he couldn’t find the words.

“Dad I can’t help that Mother Nature wanted to turn me into a brick house,” I said and laughed a little. Dad tossed his hands up and shook his head. He didn’t even want to talk about it. I had become rather shapely in the last year. I had been a late bloomer but time didn’t forget anything when it finally got a hold of me.

“Another time, Dakota,” he finally said and dropped the whole conversation. There was no use in fighting with him. When he ended a conversation it was buried and forgotten.

“Fine, I will call Greyden and have him come over then. I’m not sitting here bored all night,” I said and stood. I slipped in the house and grabbed the phone before Dad could even argue. He would more than likely allow it since Greyden was such a close friend and he had a little trust for the boy.

An hour later Greyden rolled up in a red Chevy S10 that his father had handed down to him. He hadn’t quite filled in yet. He was tall but lanky. He still had the same shoulder length blonde hair tucked behind his slightly oversized ears and he didn’t have the facial scruff that he sported today
.

I smiled thinking about his baby face back then.

Dressed in blue jeans, a short sleeved button up shirt and a new pair of boots, he jumped out of the truck and jogged towards the steps. He was always in a hurry to see me. I realized this later on.

We curled up in the small sitting room where we had the world’s ugliest but most comfortable couch and a small television and VCR. He brought over some B rated horror flick and the first time I pressed my face into his arm to hide my eyes, he lifted my chin and pressed those pillow lips to mine. It was our first kiss. We didn’t even get to use tongue before my father walked in and caught us.

With as innocent as it was, my father still blew his lid. He refused to imagine any man touching me no matter my age. He snatched Greyden up by the collar, ripping it and tossed him out. As Greyden tore off down the dusty road my father sounded off his shotgun up in the air as a threat. I rolled my eyes and climbed the stairs to my bedroom.

That was another time that I went more than a week without talking to my father. It was also the last time I had dared to kiss Greyden until after my father died.

I heard the screen door creak open and I opened my eyes to find Greyden peering down the porch at me. I smiled and slid over in the swing. Joining me, he wrapped an arm around my shoulders and I tucked into him. He kissed my forehead and rested his head against mine.

“I talked to that guy at the bar. Name is Murphy. He’s going to be in town for a bit, needs some work,” I could feel Greyden nod. “He is good at restoration. I could use a heavy hand in the shop for a bit. Maybe get him to work on Betty. I’ve also got Charlie bringing in that Bel Air,” I added. Betty was my truck. He nodded again. I didn’t expect him to be excited and shouting his approval. Even if he hated the idea of it all, he wouldn’t argue with me either. He knew I would do it anyway. His silence told me he wasn’t sure of it but he wasn’t going to protest. We swung in silence for a moment.

“Keep your gun in your toolbox,” was all he had to offer and then stood and took my hand. I allowed him to guide me into the house with the screen door slamming behind me. We headed into the kitchen and sat down for dinner. He had made chicken and potatoes. I loved when he cooked. We ate slowly and talked about his work out at the fence. There were always absurd rumors floating between shifts about the stuff they thought they had witnessed over the fence. With Area 51 resting beyond it the guys could make up some creepy shit.

After we finished I gathered the dishes and headed to the sink. Glancing out the window I could see the clear night sky. The weatherman said tonight’s low would be in the forties. I loved it when the temperature began to drop this time of year. I heard the television turn on in the sitting room. I was sure Greyden was laid out on the same couch we kissed on eight years ago. I refused to get rid of that hideous blue and green thing.

I began drying a plate with a red dish towel and I nearly dropped it when two hands slid around my waist followed by thick arms and a kiss on my neck. I smiled and leaned my head back against Greyden’s shoulder. He waited for me to finish drying the dishes and then spun me around. Before I knew it, I was seated on the kitchen counter with his mouth hungrily kissing mine.

He pulled me close as I wrapped my legs around him, heavy boots and all. His cool hands rested against my flesh under my grey tee. I could feel his fingers on my back close to the waistline of my jeans. I laced my arms over his shoulders and held myself against him as I felt my body wake up. I grabbed a fistful of the white t-shirt he was wearing and he stepped back, allowing me to pull it off of him. Tugging mine off too, he tossed our shirts to the floor and tucked himself back between my knees. His body was cool and comforting against mine. Fingers laced under the white straps of my bra and pulled them limp around my arms. I kissed him hard and tugged at his bottom lip gently with my teeth. He smiled against my mouth and lifted me from the counter.

“Shower time,” he said and carried me towards the stairs. I hopped down once we reached the narrow staircase and we headed up to the master bathroom where he had just recently installed a larger shower and separate claw foot bathtub for me. I flipped on the light and we undressed each other. The water warmed up quickly and before too long the tall glass door to the shower was steamed up by more than just the hot water.

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After drying off, I pulled my wet hair back and brushed my teeth. Greyden was ahead of me, already in his drawstring pajama pants and in bed. I tugged on a thin blue tank top and a pair of white boy shorts. They made my tan legs look a mile long. I collected our dirty clothes off the bathroom floor and headed back downstairs. Picking up our shirts off the kitchen floor and heading into the laundry room off the backside of the kitchen, I pulled open the washer door and frowned. There was a wet load inside. I hated laundry and had forgotten that I started it that morning. I grabbed the empty plastic basket from the floor and unloaded the wet clothes and started the new load.

I opened the back door in the laundry room and flipped on the flood lights outside. Golden light divided the night’s darkness that blanketed the yard. Four tall four by fours stood yards apart and two heavy duty lines paired them. I hated to do this at night but I didn’t have much of a choice. I quickly hung several pairs of jeans and a handful of t-shirts. After hanging two bras, I collected the empty basket and entered the house. Turning off the lights, I locked the door behind me and headed back upstairs.

Greyden lay under my blue sheets with the blanket shoved to the foot of the bed. A book rested open on his chest and his eyes were shut. Sex always wiped him out. I put his book on his nightstand and crawled into bed next to him. He woke enough to flip to his side and put an arm around me. I settled into him and closed my eyes.

I could smell the warm rain. The air always seemed thick with damp dust when it rained in the fall. We hadn’t seen much of it that summer, even less since the fall began so this rain was needed. My father rounded the cab of his big red pickup to open the door for me and held an umbrella up so I wouldn’t get wet. I was wearing a black dress. I hated dresses. I only wore them for one occasion…funerals. It was a small wake for the Yates boy. Kevin Yates was only twenty. He had gotten caught up in a local rival and got shot in a fight. I wouldn’t say there were gangs in this town but sadly the attitudal trash cliques had to be labeled something.

We approached the small white chapel and took a seat in the back pew closest to the door. Most of the town’s concrete families had shown up. The Yates family had been here as long as ours had. His parents sat in the front pew close to the closed casket. Story was that it was a close blow to the face that took him down. The violence didn’t shock me, only saddened me. I placed my hands in my lap and my father put his arm around my shoulders. A few people spoke quietly among themselves before the preacher took his place at the podium.

While the preacher delivered the same speech I had heard far too many times for a gal of 23, I looked the tiny chapel over. I wondered why we even had a holy place here in Silverbow. The only reason anyone ever came here was for funerals. I was sure I knew of only two families that came to regular services here.  And the preacher was fucking one of the wives of those families. If her husband would sober up long enough to figure it out there wouldn’t even be a preacher. Silverbow was definitely not the place to come to find God.

After the service the rain had stopped and people were gathering outside to talk about the events that led up to the fight and offer their condolences to the family. My father stood leaning against his red truck while Greyden and I hung out with a few others our age. Mr. Yates had joined my father and the two seemed deep in conversation. They were both tall and burly men. The kind you could see kicking the shit out of the kids that did this to Kevin. Mr. Yates was a member of a bike crew in the area called the Screamin’ Demons and it was his wife the preacher was forking. The preacher’s balls had to be huge or Mrs. Yates had to have a box of gold for someone to sneak behind that man’s back. God wouldn’t be able to keep him safe from Mr. Yates.

I watched as my father and Mr. Yates turned to look up the road. I could hear the bikes and truck coming and my heart sank when I saw the look on Mr. Yates face. His crew was already here and so were any friends of the family. Trouble hit the air like a ton of bricks. Four bikes carved the way for a beaten up navy blue Dodge Ram on a lift kit with corny looking white and silver flames down its side. In the bed of the truck sat two masked men with rifles.

“Inside now,” howled Mr. Yates and nearly everyone listened. I looked to my father who was already in the cab of his truck pulling out his Browning Cynergy Classic Field that he often carried to shoot coyote. The 12 gauge was loaded and ready to rock when they approached. Without slowing the guys in the truck began to fire into the front lot of the chapel and my father’s shotgun was our only defense. A few shots hit my father’s truck and Mr. Yates took cover behind it as my father took one of the young men down with his first shot.