By Any Other Name - 7. Chapter 7

We were tired. Not just from the physical exertion of all that climbing about and lugging things, but from several hours of operating under a load of adrenaline, heat, and worry that things would go wrong. The release we got when we arrived back at the shack, with the feeling that we had pulled this off and not been caught, was enormous. We danced around gleefully, then threw our clothing off and went skinny-dipping in the river, the cold waters doing much to remove not just the coating of sweat we wore, but the tension we'd absorbed while earning it.

After that we took quick showers, the old pump on the well up hill actually working for once, and then laid about wrapped in towels and recapped the morning, laughing excitedly over how well everything had worked. The key to the success of the whole thing was the speed with which we'd pulled it off. No one on the ground had had time to really think about what was happening, nor what they were seeing and hearing. The amazed reaction we'd garnered when Boney had actually taken flight was proof enough that no one really had any idea what was happening.

Later in the afternoon, we got dressed and ambled into town. The news was all over Bent Fork by then, with people recounting what had happened in their neighboring town with every degree of accuracy, from the bare-bones minimum to the outrageous and hilarious. Milo Parker was in the diner when we went in for Cokes, going on and on about how Boney had leaped from atop the bell tower and swooped low over the square, chasing folk as they ran away to hide. And that Mike Dizzard and the deputies had let loose with their guns then, but that the bullets had all bounced off Boney, while he laughed and swooped about.

Old Bill Shannon and his wife, Margie, who were sitting in a stall eating sandwiches, listened owl-eyed as he spoke, although Bill woke up and smacked a hand on the table and grinned when Milo mentioned Mr. Kisner and Brad getting tarred and feathered.

"Hah! About time that old goat got his! I sure wish I'd been there to see that!"

Rex Petty, behind the counter, was also enthusiastic about it, and said he'd heard that Boney had sounded like the devil himself, with a voice that made stuff catch fire when he spoke. It was everything we could do not to laugh our heads off over that, as the realization struck home that here was a story that was going to circulate around, and grow and morph, until it was basically unrecognizable from what had actually happened.

It's how legends get born.

Saturday night was slower, more relaxed. We were tired, and decided to forego the beers that evening. We drank fresh apple juice instead, a large bottle of which was supplied to us by gran and meemaw, in celebration of the news. Gran was all smiles at the story of the Deke Hawkins Day 'craziness', saying it was about time that all that hooey got shown up for what it was.

"I don't know who was behind what happened, but I tip my hat to them fellas!" he said, as he shooed us out the door with the bottle of juice.

It was a warm night, and we all got down to our unders, and laid about and kind of watched a movie. It had zombies in it, but I can't even say how many.

Dev wanted some affection, and I was more than happy to share some with him. We made love while the zombies chased those poor folk all over the countryside, and we didn't even know the movie was done until the screen went dark and the interior of the shack along with it.

It didn't matter. By then we were laying quietly, holding each other, sleepy and contented. Joey and Rich were much the same, over on the sofa. We listened to the crickets outside, and settled into a peace the like of which we had not felt for a very long time. I slept that night so solidly that I don't remember even dreaming. It was just me and Dev and the crickets, and all of us seemed quite satisfied.

Sunday morning dawned, and we were up early. We cleaned up the shack, and put away anything that we had missed the day before, that might send a signal to someone that we had been involved in what had happened at Muskrat Hill. We wanted to eventually hang Boney on the wall, as a remembrance, and because he really deserved a place of honor that wasn't some heap of junk back in the woods. He'd earned a spot here, and just having him among us was cheering.

About noon, we were discussing where we wanted to go for lunch, when there was a rap on the door of the shack.

Joey had been talking; but all of us simply froze at the sound. No one ever came here. The shack was a good walk from everywhere, and being on private property meant that no one had any business back here.

I swallowed nervously, and looked at Dev, whose eyes were wide with questions.

And then I got up, and went to the door, and opened it.

It was my dad.

He smiled, his eyes going past me, already taking in the room behind me. "Hey, fellas. Mind if I come in?"

I stepped back and smiled. "Hey, dad. You surprised us."

He grinned. "That was kinda my intention. Just wanted to see how you boys were doing. You get so you live here in the boathouse during the summer, and your mom wanted me to make sure you were still around."

I closed the door behind him, and he started a slow walk about the room, looking over everything.

"Sorry," I said. "I guess I should check in more often."

He looked at me, and nodded. "You should. I called gran, and he said he'd seen you a bunch of times, and that you looked to be in one piece."

I smiled at that. "We're just hanging out, dad. It's summer. You know."

"I do." He smiled, and looked again around the room. "This old boathouse was my hangout, when I was your age."

I gaped a little at that. "You never told me that!"

He grinned. "Well, my buddies and I mostly fished here. But we caroused a little, drank a few beers, um, maybe smoked a little...you know."

I gaped all over again. "You smoked?" I cringed a little at that. "Dad, cigarettes will kill you!"

He laughed. "I've never smoked a single cigarette in my life."

I blinked, and gaped, and blinked again, as what he meant slowly seeped into my brain. "You?"

His eyes were sparkly bright. "Uh huh. We all grow up, son. Lots of things happen while that's going on."

I shook my head, unable to imagine my dad and his friends hanging out here, smoking joints and acting crazy. My dad?

He leaned forward, grinning. "Who do you think did all that fine artwork outside?"

I gasped in disbelief. "Gran said a bunch of hippies did it."

My dad laughed. "That's about right."

I took a step back. "Gran said he had to get Sheriff Dizzard to run 'em off!"

"Uh huh. It was your gran that got me the job as deputy, when I got home from college." Dad sighed. "Oh, he doesn't know I know, and he never did much like Mike Dizzard. But he was looking out for me, you know? That's what dads do."

His smile slowly settled to something more serious, and he leaned towards me a little. "Hear about what happened over in Muskrat Hill?"

I heard Devvy give a little gasp, just a tiny intake of breath; but no one really reacted. I'd already steeled myself for this possibility, and so knew just how to play it. No outright lies, not with my dad. He could see that stuff in a heartbeat. And I was not so stupid as to think that not saying something was not also a lie. But unless he asked me outright, I didn't intend to lie to him.

I nodded. "We were in town yesterday, at the diner, and heard Milo Parker and Rex Petty talking about it. Sounds pretty crazy to me."

Dad watched me a moment, and then slowly smiled. "It was that."

He turned, and walked slowly around the room again, his eyes missing nothing. I was so glad we had cleaned up earlier now. Our stuff was still here, but dad would have to go snooping to find it. And I didn't think he would do that.

"It took us a while to piece together what was done," he went on, still walking, still looking. "It was a rather ingenious plan, actually." He turned then, and grinned at me. "Some smart fellas were behind this one."

I licked my lips. "What exactly did happen? To hear Milo and Rex tell it, it sounds like the devil himself paid a visit to Muskrat Hill."

"It does, doesn't it?" Dad frowned. "And there are people in that town that actually believe something like that happened. It was the way that Deke Hawkins flew away at the end that kind of capped it in their minds. No human being can fly, ergo, what they saw wasn't human."

"Well, what was it?" Dev asked, finally finding his voice.

"I don't know yet." Dad frowned. "Probably never know, either. Not a real person, even though it appeared to move and speak like one." He smiled at me. "I think what we witnessed was a magic act, more or less. A bit of misdirection, rather artfully presented."

I cleared my throat. "Nobody was hurt, were they?"

That was my biggest concern. The way that so much of the crowd had simply run when Boney took to the air had left me worried that someone might have been trampled or something.

"No, no one was hurt." My dad watched me a moment, and then shook his head. "It's a miracle no one was, though."

It was Joey who couldn't resist asking the question that we all wanted to ask.

"I heard that Brad Kisner and his dad got tarred and feathered."

My dad turned to him, and laughed. "That's pretty close to what happened. But it wasn't tar, it was molasses, watered down quite bit. Still damn sticky, though. And the feathers were chicken feathers. Nasty things get everywhere."

I almost smiled, remembering us visiting half the chicken houses in town for six nights running, collecting those damn things. We'd nearly been caught by Kane Richmond, who thought we were foxes prowling about. We were lucky not to have been shot!

Joey smiled. "I'm not sorry to hear that. Brad Kisner is a pure asshole."

My dad laughed, and looked straight at me. "So I've been told. And his pappy is not exactly a gentleman, either. I could tell you a few tales about him, when he was young."

I perked up at that. "Really?"

Dad laughed again. "Yes. But not now." He started walking again, but I could already see that he'd satisfied himself that nothing incriminating was showing.

"So," Rich said, looking at Joey almost as if for guidance, but then plunging ahead anyway, "any ideas who was behind this?"

Again, my dad's eyes sought me out. "I have a few ideas. Nothing I can act on." He shook his head. "Nothing I want to act on." He sighed. "Just someone's idea of revenge, is what I think."

"You think it was revenge?" I asked. I just couldn't help myself. It was such a petty thing, revenge. "Not more like...like what Gran always says. What goes around, comes around? Like justice?"

Dad frowned at that. "I'm reminded of Romeo and Juliet, son. 'That which we call a rose, by any other name, would smell as sweet'."

I understood immediately, but shook my head. "What does that mean?"

"It doesn't matter. I just hope that whoever did this is done now. I really do hope that this is the end of it."

I swallowed again. "Yeah, me, too. I'd sure hate to see someone get hurt."

"Me, too, son." Dad watched me a moment, and then smiled. "Actually, I don't see this cycle continuing, anyway. Nobody in Muskrat Hill has any idea what exactly happened, or who the target of all this mayhem actually was. Mayor Stucky suspects that Zeb Pritchard had a hand in it, to ruin his chances at re-election. Someone told Kit Kisner that everyone in town knew he'd twisted the arm of the town council to get his son that award, and so now Kit thinks it was some disgruntled townie that did it. He even mentioned Ben Fetter, though I really don't think that Ben had anything to do with it."

I simply shook my head. It had never occurred to me that the Muskrats would suspect their own of this prank. "Wow."

My dad nodded. "You see, things like this have a way of growing, son. Of getting out of hand. I talked to Deputy Dawson earlier, and he said he's had to step into several yelling matches in town between folk accusing other folk. It's just nerves, mostly, because half the town still thinks they were visited by something supernatural Saturday morning. They'd much rather find fault with each other than believe that something or someone from the great beyond had taken notice of what was going on in their small town."

That was kind of eerie. It had also never occurred to me that people might actually believe that the figure they were seeing on the bell tower really was Deke Hawkins. Or a reasonable facsimile thereof.

"Wow, " I said again.

"I climbed that bell tower," dad said then. "With Cupper Dawson and Jeff Willis, the town maintenance man." He gave a small shudder. "I don't think I'd like to do that again. Too high up for me."

I nodded, remembering that, myself.

"There was nothing there," dad continued. "Nothing at all." But then he smiled. "Just an old pulley attached to the wall, that Jeff Willis said they'd probably used to haul the bells up with."

I didn't say anything to that. Of course the pulley had been old. We'd found it at The Thinking Place!

"But I didn't believe that," dad went on.

"You didn't?"

"No. The pulley was old, but it was mounted to the wall with four bright and shiny new hexhead screws. I don't think the others noticed, and I didn't say anything. After all, this is still a town investigation, until Mayor Stucky elects to request that Sheriff Dizzard get involved. I don't think he'll do that, because the town already doesn't want any more publicity than it's gotten so far."

"What's the pulley got to do with it?" Joey asked.

My dad smiled at him. "Well, people can't fly, and I don't believe in ghosts. I think some sort of invisible line was used to make Deke Hawkins sail through the air, and that if I walked about the tops of the shops in the square, I might eventually find another pulley mounted up there."

He wouldn't, of course, as we'd brought the winch pulley back with us.

"Sounds like you've scoped out a lot of this," I said.

"Some. As much as I could, not being an official part of the investigation."

I raised my shoulders at that. "Why? Why bother?'

"Curiosity, I guess." Dad smiled. "And because I noticed something else that others seem to have missed, in all the commotion."

"What's that?" Dev asked.

My dad returned his gaze to me. "I noticed that Brad Kisner seemed to be the real focus of these events. He was specifically named by Deke Hawkins as the reason he was speaking up, and Brad and his dad got the feathers, you'll recall." He smiled. "And Deke called Brad a 'dirt weasel', and made some sort of nasty reference to the size of his penis."

All four of us busted up laughing at that. My dad grinned, and allowed us to work it off. "You hadn't heard that, huh?"

That was a direct question, and I knew I had to answer it carefully. "No one mentioned that to us until now, no," I agreed.

"Was Brad upset?" Devvy asked, looking far from worried that he had been.

"Yeah, he was pretty upset at first. Until the news crew from Royce interviewed him, and told him he'd be on TV."

The shock on all of our faces made dad laugh. "Didn't hear that, either, huh? Well, someone posted video online, and a news crew from Royce showed up while people were still arguing over what had happened. They tried to interview Mayor Stucky, and he basically told them 'no comment'. And Deputy Dawson hauled out the old standby that he couldn't discuss an investigation in progress. But since the crew had driven all that way, they wanted to interview somebody. Brad and his dad were kind of natural targets, seeing as how they both looked like giant roosters."

We started laughing again, but I could see Joey with a little bit of annoyance in his eyes that Brad Kisner might had gotten anything at all positive out of the experience.

My dad also laughed. "Kit Kisner just stomped off in a huff when they asked to interview him, but Brad was all for it once he learned he'd be on television."

I grinned at Dev, the whole idea just silly in my mind. "So Brad's gonna be on the news?"

"Six o'clock this evening," dad confirmed.

He watched the four of us grin and laugh about it, and then nodded to himself. He suddenly turned around and headed for the door. He reached it, opened it, and looked back at us. "Drop by for dinner one night, will you, Kelly? Your mom would like to see you."

"I will," I said, still grinning. "Sorry, dad."

He nodded, and looked about that shack one more time, and sighed. "I got a lot of fond memories of this place. You boys take care of it, you hear?"

"We will."

His eyes came back to me, just for a second. "And remember what I said about the rose, will you?'

He turned and left, closing the door behind himself.

I immediately held up a hand, indicating to the others not to say anything. I waited a moment, and then went to the door and opened it a crack and looked out. Dad was already up the path, just cresting the hill. I watched until he was out of sight, and then shut the door and turned back to the others.

"He knows," Dev said, looking worried and coming to me.

I shook my head. "He suspects," I corrected, patting his arm. "But he's done with it, too. You don't know my dad. If he wanted to make something out of this, he'd already be doing it."

Joey looked skeptical. "You mean he thinks we did this, and he's not going to do anything about it?"

"He did do something about," I countered. "All that talk was a warning, that one time was free, but that we'd better not take this any farther."

"I can't believe he knows, and he's not going to do anything about it."

I looked at the closed door, and smiled. Dad was always surprising me. I think he viewed all of this in the same way that he viewed the way that Mike Dizzard operated as sheriff. Dad didn't always like the man's methods, but he apparently saw some kind of justice in his results. That same thinking seemed to apply here.

"He's being kind of fair to us, in his own way," I decided. "He thinks we're even with Brad, and that it should be over. We're damn lucky no one got hurt."

"What was all that stuff about the rose?" Joey asked.

I opened my mouth, but Rich beat me to it.

"I know," he said. "It's from Shakespeare. It kind of means...it means that, no matter what you decide to call something, it's still the same thing."

He looked over at the closed door, too. "Your dad was saying we got our revenge, and that's what it was, revenge, and that we'd better never forget it."

I grinned at him, seeing the perfect sense in that. "About time all that culture stuff you like came in handy."

Joey sighed, and put an arm around Rich's shoulder. "Should I get another lily?"

Rich grinned, leaned closer and kissed him. "No. But I could use some other attention, if you want."

Joey smiled. "I want."

Dev grinned, and circled an arm around me. "So we got away with it?"

I nodded. "More or less. But I think that if Brad messes with us again, we'll have to be more careful how we react."

We retired to the mattress, while Rich and Joey took the sofa. The rest of the day was spent doing fun things, like making love, kissing, and other good stuff you don't really say in front of polite company. It was all nice, and by the time the dinner hour rolled around, we were all pleasantly rested.

We got some eats from the fridge, and settled back to watch the six o'clock news. What had happened in Muskrat Hill was not the top story, and we had to wait until the end of the broadcast for the interview with Brad to appear. The newscaster made light of it, as if it were all a big hoax, though there was a brief, amazing clip that someone had captured with a cell camera, of Boney leaping off the bell tower and flying away. The wielder of the camera had been one of the ones that had fled then, his voice being bleeped out as he yelled some not very polite things while running.

And then Brad came on. We busted up again, screaming with laughter and holding onto each other. Brad was covered with feathers, and kept picking them out of his hair, examining them, and then flicking them away as he talked, while the interviewer struggled to keep a straight face. Brad would be a long time living down that interview! He looked absolutely stupid, and when the clip was over, the two news people at the desk were red-faced and grinning.

"Quite a day in Muskrat Hill," one of them said, struggling to speak clearly.

The other nodded. "Just goes to show you that it never pays to irritate your ancestors, because you never know how they'll react."

The first newscaster laughed, and looked back at the camera. "And that's it for now. Mike and Katey will be back at eleven with another update, but we're done for the day. Goodnight, Chip."

"Goodnight, Carla."

Goodnight, y'all.

Thanks for the company!