Not Done Yet - 1. New In Town

New in Town

False dawn cast a warm half-light on the street leading to the center of the small town. Houses were starting to huddle in closer to one another. A boy on a bicycle wearing a grey baseball cap pedaled slowly, aimlessly. Stopping in the middle of the bridge, he laid down his bike and slipped off his backpack to pull out an apple. Polishing it on his damp t-shirt, he peered down at the river, flowing lazily below. Small eddies were barely visible, except when a leaf would catch in one and swirl into a spiral for a bit and spin, before spiraling out again and slipping on downstream.

As Casey bit in, a small splash caught his attention when a fish broke the water surface. He watched for a moment, chewing slowly and swallowing. The water lapped softly as he took another bite. Gradually, his shoulders began to relax, as the light began to brighten. He stood there for several minutes, ‘til the sun broke the horizon for real, outlining the first shadows of the morning.

Back on the highway, a semi geared down, hit its brakes, and a loud pop sounded as a tire blew out. The boy startled, sank to his knees, and dropped his face into his hands, sobbing. He whispered one word, “Why?” as sobs wracked his whole body. He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them while the tears flowed.

After several minutes, slowly, he regained control of his breathing, and stretched his legs out in front of him, leaning his back against the old iron bridge railing. He winced and shifted his weight, then wiped the tears from his face and slowly stood. Picking up his bicycle, he mounted it and started pedaling again, still sniffing from time to time.

He’d been on his bike for over an hour and a half already. He had started out that morning while everyone was still asleep. Not taking the time to eat breakfast, he’d grabbed an apple off the counter and quietly gone to the garage for his bicycle, careful not to make any noise, taking off in the dark. Without a headlight, he rode slowly, careful of the ruts in the unpaved road.

*

The night before had been bad. His dad was drunker than usual. Casey had been unlucky enough to be the first thing the man saw when he got inside, and Casey was staring at his dad as he stumbled through the door.

“What the FUCK are YOU lookin’ at, boy?”

“Nothing.” Casey looked down and started turning toward his bedroom.

“Come back here! I wanna talk to you.”

The boy looked up, then back down, and shuffled toward his father. As he got close, without warning, the man slapped his son across the face, hard, sending him to the floor.

Casey got up and ran to his bedroom. He barely heard his father shouting as he slammed the door shut. The feeble lock wasn’t going to do much, but he threw the bolt. He pushed his dresser in front of the door to make sure his dad couldn’t just break the door in. He’d done it before, when they lived in Taylor.

Sinking to the floor, he finally brought his hand to the side of his face. A silent tear welled up and spilled down his cheek, as he closed his eyes. That’s when his dad started pounding on the door, hell bent on getting to him.

*

Riding further on down the street, the first traffic started rolling past. He was nearing the center of Bastrop, with lots of comfortable-looking older houses, and the folks he saw driving past had on their Sunday best. He passed a couple of churches next door to one another. Cars pulled into the parking lots and people were milling about before going inside. Most of the adults were smiling. Some looked at Casey disapprovingly. Most of the kids were tugging at their collars or smoothing their skirts, and shifting from foot to foot. One baby squealed.

As he got to downtown, Casey saw the sign, No Bicycles, but kept riding after looking around. Main Street was quaint enough, but short, and he pedaled from one end to the other in five minutes, before the commercial buildings ended and he came to more houses. Then, an unusual sight appeared. Turning the corner onto the street ahead of him were a man and boy on horseback. They walked slowly toward him. The man was black, tall and slim, and dressed in nice western clothes, just like the boy behind him. The boy looked a couple of years younger than Casey, maybe twelve or thirteen years old.

Nearing, the man and boy called out together, “Good morning!”

Casey replied, “Good morning! Great day for a ride, huh?”

“Every day’s a great day for a ride. Gotta keep the fat off Clyde, here,” the man said, laughing and stopping alongside Casey, who had also stopped. Casey never saw him move the reins, or do anything to tell the horse to stop.

“You’re new here, aren’t you?” The boy on the back of the horse was smiling.

“Yeh, my dad and I just moved a couple miles outside of town the day before yesterday. My name's Casey Donovan. Thought I’d ride around by myself a bit and see what the town was like. You can’t really tell much from inside a car.”

“Boy, ain’t that the truth! That’s one reason I don’t drive. Sam here wants to learn when he’s old enough. Guess I’ll have to buy a car again in a few years.”

“You mean you don’t drive at all? How do you manage that? What about going to the grocery store?” Casey asked, bewildered.

“Oh, that. We’ve got neighbors, and we go to the store with one of them every couple of weeks. It’s more convenient than hitching up a wagon,” the man replied with a smile. “My name’s Charles, Charles Murphy, and this is my boy, Sam. The horse’s name is Clyde, but he don’t talk much.” Clyde tossed his head and snorted at his name being mentioned.

“Mr. Murphy, Sam, it’s nice to meet you both. Clyde, nice to meet you, too,” Casey said, as Clyde turned toward him. He reached out and rubbed the horse’s muzzle. “His muzzle sure is soft.”

The horse bent down and nuzzled Casey’s neck, sniffed, and snorted. “Gross!” Casey laughed and pulled out a bandanna to dry his neck.

Charles and Sam laughed with him. “That just means he likes you,” laughed Sam.

“Well, I’m glad he doesn’t like me any better, or I’d need more than a bandanna. Glad I’m not wearing nice clothes like either of you. Do you always dress like that, or are you on your way to church?”

“Oh, we’re going to church, but we had time to stop for a minute and talk, and welcome somebody new to town,” said Charles. “I always leave home a little early, in case we meet up with anybody. Clyde likes to meet new people.”

Sam dug his fingers into Charles’ ribs and teased, “Daddy, you know you like meeting people, too. Don’t act like it’s just the horse.”

Chuckle. “Yeh, I guess you right there, Sam. Well, we’d best be going. The preacher won’t wait on us. Casey, it’s mighty nice to meet you, and I hope we see you again soon.”

“Same here, sir.”

“Oh, Casey?” Charles had stopped Clyde again.

“Yes, sir?”

“You might not want to ride your bike back through downtown. The police seem to like enforcing that law a little more than they should. Now they’ve had a chance to drink their coffee, I expect one of ‘em to be around shortly.” Charles clicked his tongue, and Clyde started off at a quick walk.

As the horse took a few steps, Sam turned around, and found Casey looking at him. Both boys smiled, and Sam waved, while Casey lifted his cap in reply.

Casey turned around, got on the bike seat, and began pedaling off, a little stronger than before.

Down the street, Sam quietly asked his dad, “How do you think he got those bruises on his face?”

Charles turned the horse into the lot for the church. “Reckon we’ll find out soon enough. Keep your ears open, son.”

Charles helped the boy down, swung down himself, and tied Clyde’s traces to a small tree near the back of the lot, where the grass was a little longer. The water trough was full of fresh water. “Got to remember to thank the preacher for the water. Even if we did have to bring our own trough up here. You would think nobody ever rode a horse nowadays.” Charles threw his arm around his son’s shoulders and they both turned and walked into the old church.

While the services were starting up, Casey pedaled his way up the street to where he either had to turn left, or ride into somebody’s property. The entry was unpaved, and clear to see in the soft earth were fresh horse hoof prints.

“I guess this is where Sam and Charles live,” he mused, smiling. He stopped under a tree and got off his bike to take a break and have a drink of water. He could see the Murphy place had a modest house and a couple of barns. Under a shed was an old John Deere tractor with a disc harrow on the back, but Casey didn’t see any other vehicles. Everything looked well-maintained. “That must be a whole different kind of life.”

Leaning gently back against the tree, Casey closed his eyes. A few minutes later, a dog wandered past and stopped long enough to sniff the boy, sound asleep, before trotting on along its way.