Cattle Valley: Vol 13 PRINT

Excerpt From: Confessions

Luke Hatcher’s hands shook as he tightened the laces on his running shoes. When he tied the bow, his gaze went to the bloody uniform shirt wadded into a ball beside the front door. He’d worked hundreds of car accidents but none of them had been as horrific as the one hours earlier.

He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands in the hope that he could erase the images. When that didn’t work, Luke did what he’d always done when thoughts of spilled blood filled his mind.

Throwing open the front door, Luke took off at a brisk pace. Despite the predawn hour and having gone without sleep after a long shift, he yearned for the mental release only running provided. His normal stretching routine didn’t seem as important as the heart-pounding adrenaline he’d learned to use to replace the memories.

Clad only in a thin pair of jogging shorts, the cold October night felt good against Luke’s bare skin as his feet hit the pavement. As he started his usual circuit around the streets of Cattle Valley, the mutilated body of the teenage girl resurfaced in the forefront of his mind.

It didn’t take a psychiatrist to tell him why the girl’s death had affected him more than all the others he’d witnessed in his line of work. Suddenly the girl’s face morphed into the image of his mother. Luke shook his head, trying to rid himself of the disturbing memory before he lost what little food he’d eaten in the last twenty-four hours.

Although the temperature was below freezing, sweat poured from Luke’s head and chest as he continued his five-point-six mile circuit around the older part of Cattle Valley. He preferred to bypass the new subdivisions that had begun to pop up on the outskirts. Although the homes were each unique and well-constructed, they just didn’t hold the appeal the matured-treed neighbourhoods of the older section of town.

There was one house in particular that always welcomed him. As he neared the home at the end of the dark lane, Luke slowed to a stop like he did most days. He bent over and rested his hands on his knees as he tried to control his laboured breathing.

Luke stared at the structure, which was in a state of disrepair. The pillars on the front corners of the porch made the sagging roof appear to frown. If it was possible for a house to have a soul, he had no doubt the home at 226 Cherry Street would have been crying.

Luke had gone to City Hall to enquire as to who now owned the house, but received little information in return. The abandoned home belonged to no one Luke had ever heard of. The only information he got out of Carol was that the original owner was in a nursing home in Tulsa, Oklahoma and the taxes were paid yearly in cash by her estate. It was a pity the home had been allowed to fall into such disrepair.

It was hard for Luke to imagine he was looking at the same house that his mom had kept spotless with a profusion of colourful flowers decorating the front porch and walk. Of course he could have an idealised version of what it had once been, since before he’d been forced to move after the death of his mother.

When the porch light next door turned on, Luke knew it was time to go. He stretched his arms over his head before heading back down the street the way he’d come. The daily period of rest in front of the abandoned house always served to settle Luke’s demons.

“Better than therapy,” Luke said as he continued down the street at a brisk pace.

By the time he reached the alley behind the shops downtown, the fall sky was starting to brighten. Luke tilted his head back to smell the aromatic scent of cinnamon rolls that always permeated the morning air. God bless Kyle and his need to bake before the sun rose.

Lost in the smells wafting from the bakery, Luke wasn’t paying attention to the road in front of him. When his right foot landed in an unexpected hole in the gravel path, Luke’s knee hyper-extended, pitching him forward. He fell to the ground with a howl of pain as the sharp rocks dug into his hands and forearms. “Fuck!”

Luke rolled onto his back for a few moments before sitting up. One look at his knee had Luke shaking his head. The swelling had already begun. He supported the underside of his knee and slowly attempted to straighten his leg. It was painful, but he doubted he’d done serious damage.

After a quick scan of the surrounding area, Luke realised he was going to have to stand without anyone’s help unless he wanted to half-crawl, half-drag himself across the gravel to the back of one of the buildings.

A noise from the shadowed dumpsters caught his attention. “Hello?” he called, hoping for help.

Excerpt From: Shadow Soldier

Aaron Ellis stared at the blinking cursor next to his bank account balance. It was one of the few things he used his computer for besides the occasional evening of watching free porn. The four-year old machine had been a splurge when he’d first returned from Afghanistan. Although refurbished, the computer had seen him through the first six months of his life after he was discharged from the Army.

He glanced around the minimally furnished, one-bedroom apartment. It had taken a leap of faith to move out of the garage apartment loaned to him by Matt Jeffries and into the newly constructed apartment building at the edge of town. When he’d first moved to Cattle Valley he wasn’t expecting to stay long, but over time he’d started to build relationships with the men at the fire station and his therapist, Dr Pritchard.

The account balance in front of him would barely cover the cost of the purchase he had in mind. To make it worse, it was an unnecessary extravagance.

The intricately carved headboard he’d spied through the window of Falling Limb Creations would eat away the rest of his meagre savings, but he hadn’t been able to think of anything else for three weeks. Since the moment he’d first spotted the handmade headboard, he’d made it a point to go by the store every chance he got to make sure no one else had bought it. He hadn’t allowed himself the luxury of going inside the shop. The thought of touching the soft-looking wood and not being able to own it was too much.

The responsible thing would be to wait until he saved enough to leave the cushion in his account that his grandmother had always insisted on. Aaron groaned as he ran his fingers through his short blond hair. Responsible was a label he’d been stuck with since the death of his parents when he was sixteen. Under the supervision of child services, Aaron had not only made funeral arrangements, but he’d been the one to pack up his family’s belongings and arrange for the sale of the house his mother and father had purchased only ten years earlier.

With enough money to help with bills and college, Aaron had left Virginia to live with his only living relative, his grandma Alice, in Urbana, Ohio. Life had been bearable for the first year, but one catastrophe after another had quickly eaten away Aaron’s savings. It wasn’t his grandma’s fault. At seventy-eight, Alice hadn’t been in good health when she’d been left with the task of raising Aaron. A series of strokes had left his grandma bed-ridden and in need of medical attention that her social security didn’t quite cover. Add in constant maintenance of her two-hundred-year old farmhouse and it didn’t take long to deplete Aaron’s college money.

I’m gonna do it, he thought and powered down his computer. For seven years, he’d done what he’d had to do. It was time he did what he wanted to do. Aaron grabbed his coat from off the back of the kitchen chair and left the apartment before he could talk himself out of it.

It was a quick five-minute drive to downtown Cattle Valley. Soon, he was parked in front of Falling Limb Creations. His heart sank as he stepped up to the front display window only to find out the headboard was gone. Aaron’s chest tightened as he realised he’d waited too long. It was just a piece of furniture, he tried to tell himself. So why did it feel like so much more?

A knock on the glass startled him, causing Aaron to drop his keys on the sidewalk. He bent and picked them up before coming face to face with the handsome man he’d seen through the window several times. Although he’d never officially met Deacon McConnell, his co-worker, Luke, often talked of his new friend. Deacon motioned Aaron inside.

Aaron shoved his keys into his pocket and opened the shop door. A small set of brass bells strung over the entrance welcomed Aaron into the amazing store.

“It’s not there,” Deacon said, leaning heavily on his cane.

“I see that,” Aaron acknowledged.

Deacon stared at Aaron for several moments. “Come with me.”

Aaron hesitated, but eventually followed Deacon to the back of the store into what appeared to be the workroom. The smell of wood wrapped around Aaron like a warm blanket, reminding him of the years spent chopping wood with his dad in Virginia.

“I’ve seen you admiring this, so I thought I’d put it back for you,” Deacon said, lifting a drop cloth off the coveted headboard.

Aaron reached out and touched the bluebells and violas carved into the woodland scene. “I can’t believe you did this for me,” he replied, without taking his eyes off the headboard. “How’d you know I’d decide to buy it?”

Deacon stepped up beside Aaron. “I saw it in your face the first time I noticed you admiring it. When you returned almost every other day, I figured you’d eventually be in. Turns out I was right.”