Spurs for Studs.

24

Alabama whistled through the pine trees as I place my bags into the beat up bed of the Farm truck. Red clay and straw coated the floor boards under my feet. Bank Papers sat on the middle seat. Momma's hand on the Gear shift as she peeled from the paved lot. Weaving through the streets until the tires hit dirt. Neither utter a word. Fear of the response hanging in the air. Tension thick enough to strangle the both of them. Mommas wiped a stray tear as the first of many raindrops hit the cracked windshield. "Lord knows we need." They muttered simultaneously causing dry laughs to spill from deep in their bellies. 

"God I miss him." Stating first as my own hand comes up to wipe away the now flowing tears. Momma nodded as they pulled down the long driveway. Jumping out the truck to open the gate, let her pull through before closing it and jumping into the bed. My duffel bag thoroughly soaked through from the rain.  Walking back into the creaking house brought everything back to her. When daddy was bitching at the TV, Momma leaning over a pot of Rainbow stew, Abi laying sideways in a rocking chair on the porch with a new book in hand. Colt out back with Luke practicing on the Dummy bull. Westin and Trevor trying to rope each other while Jessica sat on the steps braiding old twine. Hunter was always off, even when he was home he was off in the woods, or behind the bar chopping wood. Always going where the wind blew. Blake was my fathers son, always by his side when Bama played. Writing down everything in a beaten up leather bound,  Carpenters pencil cut way to short.

"What's wrong baby?" Momma questioned sweetly her hand coming up to mess with my hair. 

"Nothing-" Pausing to clear my throat." It's just everything came back to me." She nods knowingly because she always knows. Changing the subject trying to keep the tears at bay. "What's for dinner?"

"I don't know yet, I can scrape something up. Colt's got his first ride coming up- he said I'd get it on the TV." I nod walking with her into the kitchen. "Now tomorrow you gotta get up real early and feed the livestock. The rest of the day you're in the tractor tending to the wheat." 

"That all?" I question cracking open a beer. She nods once more before joining me at the beaten kitchen table. Daddy had made it for her all those years ago. Spending nights locked in the barn working to get all the legs the same height. I was sat right next to him as he fumbled over tools, tripping over levels, and cursing when the hammer crashed against his thumb nail. "You thinkin bout the table?" She prods with a gentle hand on my shoulder, stroking comforting circles. 

"Yeah. Daddy Just bout threw a fit trying to get everything right." She laughs deep and loud. A laugh that hadn't rung out in years. A laugh that brought her back to '08 when the whole family had finished chores early and tried to rope each other. Sending everyone to the floor in fits of throaty laughter . Having to stop to pull the black hose from its spot in the horse trough to drink greedily before heading back out to give it another shot.  

"I was convinced that man was cock-eyed with how he could measure eight time and get eight different measurements. Always made one of the boys tell him since he was just about useless with a tape measure." Nodding along as momma continues. "And don't get me started when he tried to work on the truck. Could never get his fat fingers down into the engine bay to loosen something. He used to make you crawl under or sit on the fender to do it. You must've been all of five years old and the only one who could do it properly. The boy's tried but they were always forgettin the instructions." 

"I miss Daddy." I offer up pulling the room temperature beer to my lips.

"Lord knows I miss him every time the wind blows. Not  great thing. I Bawl every time the rain drips from the sky and I cry when the wind blows. Next thing is gonna be the sun I bet." Its dark and hoarse. A reality they both know could come true at any minute. It's not funny but they have the laugh. it's the only way to keep going. To shake your head and exhale for a few seconds too long, or a too heavy hand that comes down on the aching joints of your right knee. It was the way they were raised. Keep your head down and get through it. Even when it hurts like hell you can't do anything but move on. 

Daddy's funeral went the same way. Everyone getting up to speak. American flags dawning the local Gymnasium. All of his buddied who made it back coming to offer words and folded flags to the 8 of us. Tear stained dress blues and white Styrofoam cups filled with overly sweet tea that resembled a syrup but it's how Daddy liked it. He was given a Soldiers burial. The rifle brigade flying in and shotting odd shots into the air on a timed out schedule. Pastor Jim coming up with his stomach hanging over his buckle a worn leather bible gripped between white knuckled. He preached for what felt like hours pouring over scripture more for himself than others. They were long time drinking buddied from high school. Both convinced they would die on the barstool.

Now Hunter sits on the same stool drinking the same Whiskey ripping through the same pack of Reds just like Daddy. Hunter being the first born inherited all of it from Daddy. The anger, the addictions, the temperament. He dressed clad in worn through pearl snaps and jeans with burns littered over his ankle. A buckle won from a rodeo years back. Too proud to ever give it up even if the face was smooth from years of weather. Destin to the same faith, to live the same life and die on the same smoke stained bar stool. In a fucked up town that no one knows about and surely they don't give a damn about. 

This is why Momma had pushed her out all those years back. To give her a future that wasn't littered with debt that only a lifetime of work could repay. A tax on her body and mind that no one escaped not even the mayor. You only got out in a pine wood box buried low beneath the surface.  Turning a tearful eye towards momma who sat with a steeled expression thinking the same thoughts. "Thank you." Broken and hoarse. Pulling her into a warm embrace. 

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luh update. This is just a filler but I think Coal needs a wake up call so...