From a Different Angle

Chester A. Hogan, III

It had been some time since he'd seen his name all spelled out legal like that. The closest it came most of the time was when he pushed Carla close to her edge, and she growled "Chester Hogan!" while she glared at him over the top of her glasses. Most of the time he was just Hogie. Sometimes--even sweeter--Grandpa Hogie.

He sighed and threw the envelope on the table for Carla to open. It couldn't be good news. He couldn't face it without her.

She was due back from town any time now. He lifted his ball cap, ran his fingers through his hair, and settled the cap back in place before checking his watch. Too early to quit for the day. Too late to start anything major. He wished the telephone to ring; let it be one of the kids in a talkative mood so he'd have an excuse for standing here doing nothing. In his boots which were supposed to have come off in the mudroom. Gingerly he tip-toed back to the room that separated Carla's immaculate kitchen from the great outdoors, hoping to leave as little debris behind as possible. There from the doorway the timber beckoned him. He left his shoes on and grabbed a dishpan from the shelf above the washing machine. Surely there were some blackberries ready for picking.

He could pick and think.

Hogie wanted to plant corn. Next year of course. It was way too late now. Corn was all the rage, with them making gas out of the stuff and all. He felt certain he could do it. But there was the ever formidable Carla who was more than likely sure he couldn't. She was for parceling up the place and selling it. Of course she was. She wasn't from here. She didn't grow up here. All she was concerned with was keeping his sorry hide alive. And for that he was, of course, grateful. Not to mention he loved her more deeply that most of the time he cared to admit.

Part of him would die when he left this place. He knew that. He just wasn't sure how to make her understand it. If he could do that--and it was a puzzlement to him that he hadn't already, that she didn't know this about him after 42 years together--she would help him find a way. There had to be a way.

"Yes, if free help fell from the sky, Hogie. Not likely." She would say it softly, tenderly as she slipped under his arm and let him draw her up against his side. She'd wrap her arm around his waist and they'd stare out across the rolling prairie stretching to the horizon.

So where would they go? Hogie let the thought play through his mind for the first time without shutting it down immediately. Would it be worth it to parcel up the land and keep the house? Or should they sell it all and find a little place in town where it was easy to get groceries? Maybe nearer one of the kids. Which one? He shook his head.

Back to the corn. Or not corn. Maybe there was something else he could plant. Something else that started cheap and wasn't too late to throw in the ground. What else was popular these days? Organic. Organic this and that. Carla would be for organic. Part of what scared her about farming was the herbicide and the pesticides. It was a blessing he'd had a heart attack and not cancer. She'd have sold the place out from under his nose while he was hooked up to some chemo drip.

Which strangely enough made him smile.

A bit more. . .

It was a wise thing to come under the cover of pre-dawn with just a sliver of moon to bounce off the tired plastic letters that announced the names of the various establishments--definitely not something the cowboy would have seen.

She eased the bike in a wide circle and left the way she came, pondering how to go about introducing herself to the little town. Were they progressive enough to accept a potential school secretary arriving on a motorcycle? Or would it be better to cut her auburn locks short, hide her barely-there feminine curves and take a breeches part. Maybe someone needed a good hand out on a ranch or farm badly enough that her gender wouldn't be an issue at all.

It would be so great not to have to play a part for a change, not have to worry if she was accurately staying in character. Relax. The world alone was heavenly to think about.

And dangerous.
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Today's word: breeches part