Side by Side

56

Sergeant Hank Trammel strode down a desolate stretch of south Texas highway with his olive-drab canvas duffel over his shoulder. He wore a dress uniform. His shoes were polished to a mirror finish, which allowed him to see the green beret perched on his head, the brown mustache and aviator sunglasses.

The cloudless white sky allowed the midday sun to beat down on him mercilessly and he wiped the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. He was going to get to the ranch before Millie put little Tommy to sleep.

Since there was no traffic, he had walked the five miles from the bus stop outside the tiny community of Los Terras, Texas, to the Flying T Ranch. Millie didn’t know he was coming in for another week because he wanted to surprise her.

His mind was filled with the idea that little Tommy and Millie would be waiting for him, and how excited his wife would be when she saw him approaching the farmhouse. It wouldn’t be a complete surprise, though: He couldn’t get to the house without his hounds setting up a ruckus.

When the house was no more than a hundred yards away, he realized that the dogs weren’t announcing his approach.

The house looked the same, but it looked different than he remembered it. He could see that the white paint was weathered off, and as he reached the porch he noticed that some of the windows were broken, and that the front door was standing open.

Hank dropped his bag in the dirt and took the steps two at a time. Slowly he entered the foyer, and although nothing had changed about the house’s furnishings, he was struck by how much dust there was covering everything. And not just the dust, but spiderwebs too.

He climbed the stairs, waving the webs aside. As he approached the bedroom he heard a phone ringing, and he opened the door to see a pedestal with a shiny black telephone perched atop it.

Hank opened his eyes and the dream evaporated, leaving him momentarily confused as to where his wife and son were.

He heard Faith Ann pick up the receiver in the kitchen and say, “Hello.”

He remembered that his dear Millie was dead.

His son, Tommy, a child when he went, had been dead over thirty years.

So much pain in his heart.

So fresh were the wounds.

He heard his niece coming and he reached for his glasses on the bedside table before she tapped.

“Uncle Hank, you awake?” she asked softly.

“Of course I am,” he snorted. “How can a man sleep with the phone ringing off the wall?”

The door opened and Faith Ann stuck her head in. “It’s Mr. Massey. I think it’s real important. He sounds sort of winded.”

Hank reached for the telephone and sat up, causing a bolt of pain to shoot from his ankle to the base of his spine. He took a deep breath, then said, “Hi there, Win. What’s the deal?”

He listened to the request, and the brief explanation his dear friend offered.

“You called the right guy,” Hank said. “Consider it done.”

Hank hung up, turned on the lamp, and called out, “Faith Ann!”

She came back to the door.

“I have to go out for a while to help a friend,” he said. “You lock the door and if you need anything, call Sean.”

Despite the urgency of his mission, it took Hank ten minutes to dress, and the pain had him sweating profusely. He slipped on a pair of muck shoes, knowing he couldn’t take the time to pull on his boots.

It had been over a year since he had truly felt needed by anyone for anything important. He knew he was hardly more than a ward of Winter and Sean’s. Officially he was Faith Ann’s guardian, but the truth be told, his niece was more his caregiver than he was hers.

He reached for his crutches and, with tears in his eyes, headed for the door.

Faith Ann met him in the kitchen, arms crossed. She had put on a raincoat and her jeans bloused where they were tucked into the tops of her cowboy boots.

“You cold?” he asked her.

“Not yet. But it’s chilly and wet out there.”

“You’re staying here,” he said.

Her concerned frown told him that she didn’t think he could go anywhere on his own, but he knew better. Winter needed him. Just like the old days.

“I mean it, Faith Ann. You lock up and if you need anything, call Sean.”

“Where are you going?”

“On a mission.”

“Important?”

“Life and death.”

Hank leaned over and kissed the girl’s cheek and she returned it.

“Okay,” she said, nodding. “Go get it done.”

Hank took the keys to his Jeep and went out the door. He was almost at the driver’s door when his leg went numb and he pitched into the side of the vehicle and tumbled into the ditch, striking his head. As he lay there on his back, cold rain filled his eyes.

It was immediately obvious to him that he wasn’t going to be getting up without help. He heard the back door fly open and Faith Ann’s feet on the gravel as she came at a run.

“Oh, Uncle Hank!” She knelt beside him, a look of horror in her eyes.

“I’m okay, Faith Ann. My stupid leg just went stiff on me. I’ll be able to get up in a minute.”

“I’ll help you.” She grabbed his wrist and began tugging at it. He couldn’t do more than sit up. He wondered if he might have broken his hip.

“Go get Sean,” he told the girl.

Faith Ann wriggled out of her raincoat and put it over Hank’s head to protect him from the rain. Then she turned and ran off toward the big house.

Hank was thankful she hadn’t hung around to see him crying.