(This story contains scenes of gay incest)
One Sunday morning in the fall I was up early. Daddy and Uncle Cody had left the night before to a horse sale to take place that morning in a nearby town, intending to sleep in the truck They wanted to be there as soon as the stock started arriving. My brothers and Will were all still in bed and would remain there until I called them for breakfast.
So, I was a little surprised when I heard a knock at the front door so early.
Through the curtain I could see the outline of a man standing on the porch. I swung the door open and that was the first time I ever laid eyes on our nearest neighbor, Mr. Willis Crouch.
If you've ever seen the movie "A Touch of Evil" you're sure to remember the character played by Orson Welles. Mr. Crouch could have been that character's twin brother. He was fat and oily looking with sparse, straggly hair peeking out from beneath his dirty, sweat stained hat. His light colored suit looked to have been expensive once but it was so worn and dirty that you'd never have guessed. The shirt under the suit was a dingy white and had a couple of grease stains in the front. He was leaning on a cane that looked older than he was. Even from behind the screen door I could smell his body odor.
"Is Mr. Russell at home?" he asked.
"Daddy is out of town." I replied. "Is there something I could help you with?"
I'd seen some flicker in his eyes when I'd said "daddy" and it made me uneasy.
"I was just on my way to church and I noticed that you'd painted the place." he said.
All six of us had spent the previous week scraping off old paint and brushing on much needed new paint to the weathered clapboards of the house. Now, the place looked more as I remembered it and it looked pretty damned good if I do say so myself.
"It was a big job but sorely needed." I said.
"I was just wondering if you were fixing up to sell?" Mr. Crouch asked.
"No, nothing like that." I said.
"I've told your daddy several times that I'd buy the place." he told me. "I know how hard up he is and how he's struggling, so it's the least I can do. Of course, the place is pretty run down so I can't offer a whole lot even with a new coat of paint."
"I'm sorry you've been misinformed." I replied. I couldn't keep the coldness out of my voice; he'd pissed me off acting as if daddy was destitute. "My daddy's business is growing day by day and he's entirely debt free, so he'd have no reason to sell to you or anyone else."
He squinted at me and chewed at his lips a second and then said, "You're that youngest boy, aren't you, the one who caused all the fuss years back. I'd heard you were here, that you thought you were running things now. Well, I'm here to talk business with your daddy, not his sprout."
"You have a real nice day now, you hear?" I said and firmly closed the door in his face. He stood there for a minute or two as if he expected me to reopen the door, then turned and went down the porch steps. I heard his car start up a few seconds later.
The whole encounter left a bad taste and I took it out on the kitchenware as I prepared breakfast. I must have still been scowling when Steve, Will and Tony entered the kitchen together.
"Who pissed in your Post Toasties?" Steve asked as they all sat down in their places at the table.
I prepared a plate for each of us and carried them to the table.
"I just had the pleasure of meeting out neighbor Mr. Crouch." I replied as I bent to place a plate in front of Tony.
"That would sour anybody's milk." Tony said, then reached up quickly and painfully pinched my nipple. In answer, I swatted him across the back of the head with my free hand.
"I imagine he was his usual self, an asshole." Steve said.
I served the rest of the plates and sat down to eat.
"He was just really condescending. He acted like we are destitute and should be champing at the bit to sell the place to him."
"That's him." Steve replied. "If he died and went to heaven, he'd expect St. Peter to think he was doing him a favor by passing through the Pearly Gates. His family used to have a lot of money and the story is that he still has plenty. They used to own all of the land around here until his drunken grandpa started selling it off and drinking it up. They owned this place, too. He's got a hardon to buy it and 'reunite' the holdings. Daddy usually just listens to him and shrugs him off."
"Remember when we used to torment him?" Tony said to Steve.
Addressing me, Steve said, "Our property line is right up against his. When we were little, we used to sneak over to the edge and toss rocks up on the roof of his house. There's still a path over there out in back. He was a bad drunk then, still is when he falls off the wagon a couple of times a year."
"He used to stumble out and yell 'I see you little no neck bastards. I'm fixing to get my gun." Tony giggled.
"The drunken fuck couldn't see 2 feet in front of his face." Steve said. "We'd wait until he went back in the house and about 5 minutes later throw more rocks."
"Maybe that's why he hates you big no neck bastards." Will said.
"No, you'd be hard pressed to find anyone in this county that he hasn't insulted or tried to swindle. He's just a nasty person." Steve said.
"And smelly, too." I replied as we ate our food.
I kept thinking about Mr. Crouch all the rest of the morning. Daddy and Cody weren't due back until late afternoon so a little after 12 o'clock I decided to see the Crouch homestead for myself. I followed the path through the brush until I saw a fence up ahead.
The fence was part of a corral and inside of it were three horses. They looked bedraggled, maybe ill, and I could count the ribs visible on their sides. They clustered at the fence looking at me and I noticed that all of the vegetation within their reach was grazed away. I picked huge handfuls of grass and weeds and fed each of them, one at a time. While I was feeding them a little dog appeared and watched me.
She was a terrier mix with a rough curly coat, maybe 2 feet high. She was mainly white but had splotches of brown and black mixed into her coat. She needed a bath and a good combing. The most notable thing about her, though, was her eyes. She had a look of intelligence that most humans can only hope for.
As I fed the horses handfuls of green, I bent down and asked, "Who are you?"
I swear if that dog had been in the mood she would have spoke up and answered me. Instead, she came nearer and let me scratch behind her ears and along her chest. She relished the attention.
