A Past Remembered

Chapter 2

"You get into another fight, Hank?" Bart clenched his fist trying to keep his cool, "That's a deal breaker you know that."

"No sir, I ain't been fighting." Hank Straw rubbed his jaw trying to relieve the soreness. He took a sip from his mug while glancing at the three-year-old playing on the floor. Mrs. Straw stood near the wall watching the child as well. She had not spoken a word since they had arrived.

"What then? You get drunk and run into a wall?" Bart gritted.

"No, sir. He was attacked," Mrs. Straw answered. She stepped forward, taking a stance, behind Hank's chair. She placed her hand on his shoulder, "You tell them, Hank, about the other night. There ain't no shame in it."

"Hush now! We don't want to cause no more trouble" Hank sighed. He ran his hand through his brown hair matting in up even more. He glanced at Bart expecting him to leave. Bart leaned back on his chair and folded his arms across his chest.

"C'mon Hank, we ain't sitting around here all day. If you got something to say, you best say so now." Bart stretched his leg in front of him. Hank turned to Wilbur who stood across from the table. Up until now, the estate manager had been eying the child cooing at his boots. He nodded at Hank and continued scrutinizing his boots.

Hank put the mug down and felt his black eye. "We ain't got much. We make a decent living working your fields and you've been real good to us ... giving us a piece for our own. We got a right decent crop this year. I'd been sleeping nights in fields till the harvesting done. Two nights back, I heard a noise and I figured it was some animal or such so I went in to take a look. It weren't no animals."

He spilled his coffee trying to pick his mug up. A warm summer breeze came in through the open window as he wiped the sweat on his forehead with his shirt sleeve. Bart waited patiently knowing better not to push him.

"There were three of 'em ... at least I think there were. One came up behind me, whacked me on the head" gingerly he rubbed the back of his neck. "I fell over but I was still wake like when they put a sack over my head. They smelled of whiskey... they were looking for fun ... they kicked me and laughed. They kept kicking me until I passed out."

"How do you know there were three?" Bart inquired.

Hank peered at Bart. "You believe me?"

"Yes, we do," Wilbur replied. He nodded at Hank to reassure him.

"I heard them ... two of 'em talking ... really fuzzy like ... we'll get him later, let's have some fun ... that's all I could understand."

"Did you have a go at the bottle that night?"

"No sir, I did not," Hank answered. Bart raised an eyebrow at him. "Maybe one or two but no more."

"Alright, Hank. You can take a few days off. I'll have Freddie come help you with the harvesting and to watch the house but then I want you back at work. If anything happens, I expect to know about it at once." Bart put on his stetson and stood to leave.

The infant wailed at the boots walking away. "Thank you" blurted Mrs. Straw rushing to pick up the child. Hank followed them outside. Bart had already mounted his horse ready to leave.

"Rest up, Hank."

Wilbur shook hands with Hank and followed Bart in the wagon. It was a quick ride back to the ranch but the desert sun blazed stronger as it descended. After a distance, Bart slowed down to a trot.

"Do you believe him, Wilbur?"

"I am not sure. Might be worth looking into."