Just Beyond the Curve (9 page)

“It’s beautiful out here,” Judy said, looking
around.

“Home at last!” Misty whispered softly to herself,
then smiled and took a deep breath.

“Not much for a horse to eat,” Billy stated as if his
dream had just been denied.

“They eat grain and hay,” John said, restoring the
possibility of the dream coming true. “We’ll have to remodel a
little, if we decide to move out here.”

“You might as well hire a remodeling company, Mister
Travis,” Judy said seriously. “This is home and I plan on moving in
as soon as possible!”

“On a grand scale looks like to me,” Misty commented
watching Billy disappear around the side of the house. “Billy,
watch for snakes!” she yelled.

John and Judy walked toward the front porch, then
went up the steps. John pushed the door open and led the way
inside.

“It wasn’t even locked!” Judy gasped in
disbelief.

“Locks only keep honest people out,” John said with a
smile. “I’d just as soon not have to replace the door facing.
Besides, there isn’t much worth stealing here.”

“There are a lot of valuable antiques in here,” Misty
said, overhearing what John said. “They’d be worth a fortune to
someone.”

“Some loony, maybe,” John said with a laugh.

“Plenty of them around,” Judy said.

“Come see the shrine Momma built for Daddy,” John
invited, leading the way down the hall to his mother’s room.

Misty and Judy stood in awe at the resemblance
between father and son. “It’s like looking in a mirror,” Judy
said.

“You sure that’s not you, John?” Misty teased.

“Naw, that’s my daddy,” John assured her, taking her
seriously.

Misty glanced at Judy and smiled. Judy smiled back
knowing that Misty was still tickled at John’s propensity for
taking everything literally when it was meant as a joke, or a
jibe.

*****

Back in Austin Danny stood nude in front of a
publicity photograph of John. It was taped to the wall in his
bedroom at home and he was in the process of stabbing it repeatedly
with a large hunting knife. With every stab of the knife he sobbed
even harder, then dragged the knife blade across his forearm
drawing blood that he smeared across the photograph, then went back
to stabbing the picture of John Travis.

“It’s all your fault!” he sobbed. “You came from
nowhere! A tall dark stranger and you took her away! Now, you’ll
pay! You’ll pay dearly! I gave you everything! Now, I’ll take it
all away! You made a fool of me. Now I’ll make a corpse of you!” He
slammed the knife into the photograph and left it there, then
turned away and stepped to the dresser.

On the dresser was a half full bottle of whiskey, a
small bottle of pills and the .45 automatic. He shook a pill out of
the bottle and tossed it into his mouth, then chased it with a
swallow of the whiskey. He grabbed the pistol and jacked the slide,
then cocked the hammer back and placed the barrel against the side
of his head. He gritted his teeth and squeezed the trigger.

The hammer slammed onto an empty chamber and Danny
collapsed in a fit of crying and sobbing. He held the .45 to the
side of his face and slowly, passionately kissed and licked the
side of the barrel, then inserted it into his mouth.

“It’s a sign, John,” he said, pulling it from his
mouth and licking up the side of the weapon. “Now,
you’ll
die and
I’ll
be famous! The man who killed John Travis,
Junior!”

*****

A short ways down the street John steered Misty’s car
into the driveway and they all got out. They all stood inside the
door staring in disbelief at the destruction before them.

“Who in the world would do such a thing?” Judy asked,
shaking her head in disbelief.

“Who’d you make mad?” John asked innocently.

“Everyone in the world, looks like,” Misty said
nearly in tears.

“It had to be Danny Floyd!” Billy stated matter of
factly. “He hates John with a purple passion!”

“I never done anything to him,” John said innocently.
“Not to make him do this to your mother’s home. He knows I don’t
live here. Not me and Judy, anyway.”

“He don’t care,” Billy said. “He knows you’re staying
here. That’s reason enough for him. He ain’t real stable, you
know.”

“I’m calling the police,” Misty said, beginning to
sob.

“That’ll do a lot of good, knowing the Austin
police,” Judy said, then began to cry with her mother.

John gathered her into his arms and held her tight,
comforting her. “Well, I guess the insurance will pay for
everything, right?”

“Maybe,” Judy sobbed. “But what about the emotional
damage. This is Momma’s home, John! This is where we were raised
after Daddy was killed! How can we ever repair, or replace the
pictures and the things he bought us?”

“I don’t know, Judy,” John replied, patting her back
gently and smoothing her hair. “I don’t know.”

CHAPTER NINE

John was standing in the front yard with several of
Austin’s finest. They had made like they had every right to enter
and leave the house as they pleased. John was a little put out that
they took such liberty. Not only that but he was offended by some
of the questions he was asked by the detectives. They had made it
sound as if he and his family had perpetrated the offense just so
they could collect the insurance money. When John pointed out who
he was and that he hardly
needed
the money, they switched to
a different tact and began to listen to his answers and suspicions
about who the culprit had been. Even then it took them nearly
another hour to decide they had enough circumstantial evidence to
question Danny Wayne Floyd about the burglary and wanton
destruction of the Rivers’ residence. Then Danny drove by with a
smirk of guilty satisfaction on his face and the police then
decided he may have the answers to some of their questions.

Ten minutes after deciding they needed to talk to Mr.
Floyd, a police car passed with Danny Floyd setting in the back
seat with, what appeared to John, his hands cuffed behind his back
and an angry fire burning in his eyes.

As the car passed, Danny glared at John as if, if
looks alone could kill, John would be writhing on the ground in his
death throes. John was not a coward, but he felt a chill crawl up
his back. For some reason he knew this was far from over.

That night after the cops were gone, John talked
Misty into spending the night in a hotel. She was reluctant at
first but finally agreed to start the clean up and repairs the
following day.

The following morning when she walked back into the
house her tears began anew, and she was unable to get started with
the clean up until her tears had run their course. Only then was
she able to finally start putting all the broken pieces of their
life back together.

John hired a remodeling company to come and make all
the necessary repairs to the walls. While they picked up the debris
the company patched and painted the walls.

A week later the house was, for the most part, back
to the way it was before Hurricane Danny swept through. John was
not there to see the final paint rolled over the final repair, or
the check written for thirty thousand dollars for the repairs. He
was in concert in Phoenix, playing to a sold out auditorium
audience of twenty thousand roaring, screaming fans. From there he
went to Denver and packed Mile High Stadium to bursting.

Three months from the day Misty’s house was ransacked
by Danny Floyd, John drove his new Dodge Ram Turbo down the
driveway to his house. He pulled to a stop and admired the changes
that had taken place with his old homestead. He parked beside a
construction pickup with the name Tom Holmstrom Construction
painted on the doors. His was a company out of San Marcos and he
was a big man with a full red beard that covered part of his
bulging stomach.

John climbed out of his pickup, turned to assist
Judy, then met Holmstrom halfway to the front door. Holmstrom
scratched his beard, shoved his ball cap back on his bald head and
said, “Mister Travis, we’re almost finished with the house. A week
more maybe. Barn’s done.”

“Good,” John said, taking his proffered hand. It was
like shaking hands with a baseball glove. Holmstrom’s hand was
large and callused and John could tell the man was as strong as a
bull. “We want to be living in the house when the baby’s born.”

“Due anytime, I guess?” Holmstrom asked.

“Three more weeks,” Judy smiled, patting her
stomach.

Tom nodded his head, then smiled, turned and led the
way to the house. “We’ll be ready,” Holmstrom promised over his
shoulder.

“I hope so,” John said. Then, taking Judy’s hand, he
started walking through the house looking at the changes that had
taken place. They walked out into the new addition that John had
built for Misty and Billy to live in. It was beautiful, as was the
rest of the house. From there they went into the nursery and looked
at it. It was exactly how Judy wanted it. She had been out several
times to see the progress and to answer Holmstrom’s questions when
they came up. So, none of it was really new to her.

“What’s the latest on Danny Floyd?” he asked walking
with Judy out to the barn to have a look around.

“Still in jail as far as I know,” she replied. “His
folks are really p.o.ed at him for what he done.”

“No need to leave him there,” John said. “He’s
learned his lesson by now. I’ll call ‘em and see if I can get him
released.”

“He don’t deserve it, John!” Judy said angrily. “Have
you forgotten what he did to us?”

“No, but sending him away forever ain’t gonna help
anyone. He’ll just be mad when he gets out instead of
reformed.”

“If he never gets out, then it don’t matter if he’s
reformed or not! Maybe they’ll kill him in there!”

“Judy, there has to be forgiveness,” John said. “We
are Christians, after all.”

“I think you’ll live to regret it, John,” she said
prophetically. “But, do what you want. If it was me, I’d let him
rot in there! He really hurt my momma!”

John pulled her into his arms and comforted her the
best he could. He knew Danny had caused a lot of mental anguish in
the Rivers’ family. But, he felt Danny had paid a price steep
enough to teach him a lesson. Now, it was time to give him a second
chance; if he could swing it for the younger man.

*****

For the first week of his incarceration Danny had
paced like a caged tiger; the stench of the jail nauseating. He had
had three fist fights, lost two and a half of them. Then, settled
down to this strange new world of young gladiators he had fallen
into. He had never dreamt there were people on earth like these
men. These men were vicious animals! Barely human! Three of the ten
in the tank he was in were confessed homosexuals and the reason for
his first two fights. Although he hadn’t been raped, it was only
because he made it clear that if that happened no one in the tank
would get any sleep; he would kill the first man who did. After
that he was left mostly alone and allowed to settle in to this new
lifestyle.

The second week of his incarceration his third fight
came along with an African American new-boot. He had given as good
as he had received and finally neither of them could go any more so
called it quits and a draw.

Now he was an accepted member of the tank and thanks
to his parents he could pay his gambling debt; if he lost. He
seldom did. He was good at poker and choosing the winning sports
teams when he chose to bet on one.

His unreasonable hate toward John Travis and the
Rivers family hadn’t diminished at all. In fact it had grown only
stronger and his every free moment was filled with planning his
revenge. After all, he reasoned, he had taught John everything he
knew about the guitar; therefore it was only right that he be the
famous one, not the ‘dummy’ John!

Out in the hallway an elevator door slid open and a
big bellied jailor stepped out. He made a left and walked
importantly down the hall. His keys jangled loudly in the silence
of the steel hallway. They swung on the end of a heavy chain just
long enough to reach the heavy steel lock in the steel doors. He
came to 12-S-10 and slid the big brass key into the lock. He felt a
thrill of power as he turned the heavy lock and jerked the heavy
steel door open. He stepped inside wearing his ‘mean face’ and
yelled, “Floyd! Roll it up! You’re outta here! I won’t be waitin’
long, either! So, get a move on!” Damn he loved talking rough to
these criminals! He had convinced himself long ago that he was one
‘mean’ s.o.b.!

Danny looked around at his friends and said with a
superior smile, “Looks like I’m all in here!” then threw his cards
onto the table along with his stack of vending tickets. “Ya’ll
split up my money evenly. I won’t be needing it where I’m
going.”

The other prisoners laughed, joked and said their
goodbyes to their new friend. Everyone was glad he was getting out.
It was a joyous occasion when
anyone
was released from jail
or prison.

Danny walked to the door and pulled the iron bar gate
open and stepped inside a small cage.

“Slam it behind ya!” the jailer said gruffly.

Danny slammed it with an earsplitting clang that
echoed resoundingly throughout the hallway. A furious roar rose all
up and down the hall; everyone knew someone was being released. Or
admitted! Either way their joy, or sympathy, was with the man.

“I make bond?” Danny asked the tall, sloppy fat,
bald, unshaven, droopy pants wearing jailer.

“What difference does it make?” the slob asked
smartly, arrogantly. “You’re being released back into society. But,
don’t worry. We’ll save a place for ya. You’ll be back. Fools like
you, always come back for more.”

“Point taken,” Danny said, looking coldly at the
piece of walking shit, as the jailers were known as, throughout the
world, Danny supposed. He knew the cops and jailers, prison guards,
State or Federal, were the lowest form of life on the planet! Three
steps below child molesters!