Richard E. Roach - Author Guest Post/Short Story

Today, I have the sincere honor of having Richard Roach, author of Scattered Leaves, stop by Cafe of Dreams! He has left a wonderful wonderful story for us to all enjoy! Thank you so much, Mr. Roach, for taking the time to do so! It is an awesome surprise and I am thrilled beyond words!!

Please be sure to stop back by tomorrow, as I am once again hosting Richard Roach on his tour and lending my thoughts on his novel, Scattered Leaves! In the meantime, sit back and enjoy this treasure.....

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Dear Readers:

Instead of telling you how as a child I read westerns (pulp magazines) while lying on hard boards nailed to limbs in a tall pine and dreamed of someday writing a novel, please, dear ones, let me tell you a story about mankind. You know, we men are all fools when it comes to women. They look so good, smooth skin, sparkling eyes, the wonderful soft touch of your mother (we all have mothers, no matter how mean we are, I'm talking about men), and they smell good.

I trust that my little story entertains you.

Pocket of Dreams
By: R. E. Roach

532 Kentwood Drive
Rockwall TX 75032 USA
Word count: 3,700

The automobile accident that killed my wife threw me into a black pit of despair. Over two years creped by but I couldn’t shake the crud and escape its clutches. If that wasn’t enough, the drilling contractors and service companies in the oil business were lodged in a downward cycle while crude, gasoline, and natural gas prices, soared upwards. Red Eye Drilling stacked the rig I worked on and sent me north to a new rig out from a small town in Colorado . I didn’t care if they sent me to hell.

Blasts of icy wind rocked the pickup as I drove due north through the gloomy day on I-35 with my headlights on. By the time I reached Guthrie , Oklahoma the clock on the dash read 3:00 p.m. I pulled into a big truck stop, filled my tank with gasoline and checked my oil.

Afterwards, I headed for the eating establishment. I noticed a young woman and a small boy standing outside of the cafe. I never paid much attention to them. Perhaps she was waiting on her husband . . . I sat at the counter, and ordered two hamburgers and a large order of fries to go. There were soft drinks in my own cooler in the back of the pickup. I paid for the burgers and left the restaurant. The young woman and the kid stood by the front door. She looked up at my face and I could clearly see she was troubled.

She caught my eyes, bit her lower lip, opened her mouth to reveal tiny, white teeth, and said, “Mister, me and my little boy are trying to hitch a ride to Oxford , Kansas . I promise you we won’t be any trouble to you. We’ve been out here a long time and I can’t get a ride. The truck drivers won’t give me a lift. It’s against the company rules. I don’t have money for a bus. Do you think you could help us? My name’s Roxie and this here’s Little Steve. I noticed you were in the blue pickup, so I know you ain’t a truck driver.” She shivered as the words tumbled from her lips, her eyes flickered between mine and the pavement.

Roxie stood about five-six in her serviceable flat heeled shoes, appeared to be in her middle twenties, with mahogany eyes and dish-water hair combed away from her face and caught in a knot on the back of her head. She wore a faded-blue cotton dress with a mighty thin jacket for this blustery, winter weather. Though slender, she had a sturdy figure and you could see she was all woman. Little Steve was in jeans and a white sweatshirt. He wore an old pair of cowboy boots that were run over and scuffed up something awful. Together they presented a forlorn picture. If I’d known my mother, we could’ve been poor, just like them.

“Ma’am, I don’t know where Oxford is, but I’d like to help you anyway I can.”

“It’s about twenty miles past the Oklahoma Line, off to the East of I-35 about eight or ten miles. That’s where my momma lives,” she squinted as she looked up at my face. Little Steve stood obediently by her side searching my face and licking his chapped lips.

Reaching in my pocket, I withdrew my lip balm, opened the tube and handed it to Little Steve. “Put that on your lips. Smear it on good and it’ll stop the burning.”

After he had done a good job of covering the redden skin, he handed the tube back, I capped it and gave it back to him. “Put it in your pocket, you might need it later.”

“You mean I can have it?” he asked, his brown eyes sparkling.

“Sure. It’s all yours.”

“Thanks, mister.”

“That certainly sounds easy enough to find,” I said to Roxie, “and right on the way I was going. I’ve got room going to waste and you’re more than welcome to use it,” I smiled. I reached down to rumple Little Steve’s hair and quick as a thought, he ducked behind his mother’s leg and then peeked out.

“That’d be wonderful because I know Little Steve’s getting tired, we’ve been out here a long time,” she smiled and sighed. She picked up the little one and we walked to the truck. I opened the passenger side door for her and sat Little Steve on the seat.

“Wow! It’s sure big and it must be new! It smells so good,” he exclaimed as he bounced on the seat.

“You’re right, Little Steve, I only bought it a few days ago for this trip. I was afraid my old clunker might break down.”

Roxie got in and I noticed Little Steve looking at my greasy sack, and of course, the fries and burgers did smell great. My stomach was doing flips and I imagined he was even hungrier. I handed the sack to Little Steve.

“Y’all go ahead and get started on these and I’ll go get some more. I’ll bring you a drink in a minute.” His little fingers eagerly tightened on the sack.

I ran back to the cafe and ordered the same thing again. I rushed back to the truck and got up into the back, opened the ice chest and chose a root beer for Little Steve and a cola for Roxie. I went to her door and handed her the drinks.

“Here’re some drinks. I’ll be back soon as I get my order.”

“Thank you very much.” She turned to Little Steve, “When you need a drink I’ll give it to you and when you finish with the burger, you can hold your drink all by yourself.”

The drinks were in cans, and I wondered if Little Steve could drink out of a can. I hurried back to the cafe, picked up my order and returned to the truck.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m nearly famished. My stomach thinks my throat’s been cut. If you don’t mind, I’m going to drive while I’m eating. By the way, my name is Ben McCord,” I pulled out from the station and made my way back to I-35 and headed north.

“Mister McCord, I purely do thank you for the food. It didn’t matter about me but Little Steve needed to eat several hours ago. I had no idea that it was going to be so hard to get a ride. I’ve never tried to bum a ride before and I didn’t know most truckers can’t carry riders. I just thought with all them trucks going up I-35, I'd be able to get a ride any old time,” she smiled. I noticed they didn’t have their seat belts on.

“Y’all had better buckle up. Something might happen and I wouldn’t want you to keep on going when the truck stops,” I suggested.

“Oh, my goodness, you’re so right, I’d forgotten all about them. Here Stevie, let mother buckle you in. You can get a ticket if you aren’t wearing your seat belt,” she said. As she fastened the belt I noticed her small hand. It was tanned by the sun and not much bigger than a child’s. Her wrist looked tiny, so touchingly fragile.

Stuffing my mouth full of hamburger, and French fries, I had to wash it down with some root beer before I choked. When I got to where I could speak I said, “Yes, and we certainly wouldn’t want that. Sometimes, I forget to buckle up myself. Where’s big Steve?”

“Mister McCord, we’re kinda down on our luck,” she said wistfully, “Steve joined the Army about five months ago. The Army sent him down to Fort Sam Houston and he went through basic training. Then he got a leave, and came home for two weeks, and after that, he got shipped overseas. They sent him to Iraq . One night when he was out on patrol, he stepped on a mine, and he was injured almost to death. The mine splintered the bone in his right foot and they cut his leg off at the knee. For a while, they thought he was going to make it but, one night, he just slipped away. Two of those Army fellows came out to our little farm and told me that. I guess it’s the truth, but I’ve no way of really knowing. He was only 26 years old. We were both 19 when we got married.”

“What sort of work did Steve do when you married?” I asked.

“We were farming on some land down there near Meridian , Oklahoma . There was a creek on the back forty and we had six cows. We had a flock of chickens, and at one time, we were getting over 100 eggs a day. We were milking all six of those cows and making butter. Some people in Oklahoma City bought all the eggs and butter we could produce.

“We raised a ton of onions each spring and then corn in the summer. Those chickens caught some disease and the health person came out and said the flock had to be exterminated. They killed all of our chickens and then they piled them all up in a great big stack and set them on fire. I guess you call that exterminated . . . . ”

“Yeah, that’s exterminated in any man’s language,” I said.

“Three of the cows dried up, and we were in a bad fix. Steve said, he’d go into the Army for a while and we’d save our money, so we’d do it right, the next time around, but then he was killed. I’d only gotten three allotment checks, and those Army fellows said I’d be getting a lot of money, but I haven’t seen one cent of it yet. I just couldn’t wait any longer, Little Steve’s got to be fed, and that’s why I’m going home. Besides I didn’t have any money and couldn’t pay the mortgage anyhow,” she said.

“Roxie, you and I have something in common. We’ve both lost a loved one. I’m sorry your husband was killed in Iraq . I don’t know what’s going to happen over there, and I don’t know what the Iraqi people want, but I do know that a lot of people are being killed there. I just hope that we can help the country to become a strong ally of ours in the Middle East .”

“Maybe so, Mr. McCord. The preacher tells us that God never puts a load on us that we can’t carry, and he says we’re to trust in God that everything will come out right in the end. I try my best to think that way, but it’s hard, and especially at times like these,” she took Little Steve’s wrapper and put it in the greasy sack.

Little Steve had finished eating and Roxie used some of the water I’d given her to wash his hands and face. He had slipped out of the seat belt and was standing in the seat with his hand on my shoulder. I knew it was dangerous for him to stand, but I thought I could hold him if I had to stop suddenly.

“Say mister, did you play football?”

“Yes, a very long time ago.”

“I thought you did because you’re so big.”

“Little Steve, I was one of the smaller ones. They had guys out there that were half a head taller than me. And you know what? The basketball players are even taller. Remember the important thing’s not football, basketball or baseball; it’s learning your lessons in school. Are you going to start school next year?”

“I sure am. I’ll be six then,” he said proudly.

“All right then. Next September, when you start to school, you remember that I said learn your lessons better than anyone else in your class.”

“What are lessons?” he asked.

“When you go to school, they’ll tell you things to learn, that’s your lessons. In other words, listen to what your teacher tells you and do what she says.” I didn’t know the first thing about children and felt I was getting in over my head but Roxie came to my rescue by changing the subject.

“You can let me out up there on route160. I can walk the rest of the way,” Roxie spoke above the road noise.

We had crossed over into Kansas as we talked; I looked at my map and said, “I will, like fun. It’s still eight miles down there to Oxford . Just hold on for another few minutes and I’ll get you home. That’d be way too far for Little Steve to walk.”

“We might see someone we knew and they’d give us a ride. I hate to put you to any more trouble than you’ve already been to,” she said.

I turned off the Kansas Turnpike, as I-35 was called at this point, and headed east on route160. Right before we reached Oxford , she had me turn right on a dirt road. About a mile from where we turned she said, “You can stop at this house, this is where Mama lives.”
It was a modest white house, well kept, but on the Kansas prairie. All they had in the way of trees was the wind-break. They needed them to stop the constantly blowing Kansas wind. I wondered how anyone could make a living in this country. A word came into my mind, destitute or maybe impoverished. Still, the house looked okay.

As I pulled the truck into their graveled driveway and stopped, Roxie spoke. “Thank you so much for the dinner, and the ride. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. If you hadn’t taken pity on us, I guess I’d still be there.” I saw the concern in her eye. I noticed for the first time that she wore almost no makeup and her skin was flawless. It was tanned by the hours in the Oklahoma sun but her skin was fine grained and blemish free except for a slight dusting of freckles across her tiny nose. Her lips were as pink as if she had on lipstick and her eyes were the blue of the Kansas summer sky.

“It’s my pleasure to make your acquaintance and now that you are leaving, I’m sure I’ll miss your company,” I smiled.

Her eyes narrowed and I saw her face redden. She started to say something but closed her mouth and compressed her lips. Little Steve was jumping up and down in her arms wanting to get out of the truck.

I got out of the truck and opened her door. She handed me Little Steve and I sat him on the ground. He ran away calling, “Grandma, Grandma, I’m here, I’m here!” Someone opened the front door, and he ran on into the house.

“Just a minute Roxie, I want to give you something.” I took out my check book, and wrote her a check for $500. Then I asked, “What is your last name, dear?”

“Ellis, I’m Roxie Ellis. I’m so ignorant I forgot to even tell you my last name.”

I tore the check out and handed it to her saying, “I know you couldn’t accept a gift, but this is just a loan, until you get your money from the government. My address, name, and phone number is right on the check. When you get your money, you can repay me.”
“But Mr. McCord—”

“Just Ben, dear . . . just Ben.”

“All right. Ben . . . I can’t take this money.” She looked at the amount, and said, “Golly gee . . . Mr. McCord, er . . . Ben, you can’t give me this much money.” Her face was glowing.

“I’m not giving you the money, Roxie. It’s only a loan. You’ll repay it, but you need it now. Little Steve needs it and you don’t want to be a burden on your Mother. I’ll bet the government’ll give you about $100,000 plus all of Steve’s back pay, and you’ll be rich, but for right now, you take the money.”

She jumped up and gave me a hug and a quick kiss and said, “You’re such a wonderful man; a generous man, and I don’t know how to thank you.” Her eyes filled with tears. I got back in the truck, and while turning it around, I heard her say, “You even gave us your dinner! Call me when you have time.”

As I drove down the driveway and onto the dirt road, I put my window down and waved. I glanced back and she was throwing kisses and waving. Poor thing, she’d been worried about money for so long, she was almost beside herself with joy. I wiped the tears from my eyes. Oh, darn! I stopped the truck and opened the door and yelled, “What’s your Father’s name?”
“Ellis, Frank Ellis.” She shouted as she stood on tip toes. Then I understood; she had given me her maiden name, not her married name. I waved goodbye and drove off. For the first time in two years I felt like I was eager to see another sunrise.

* * * *

During the next two months, while I was working on the drilling rig in Colorado , I called Roxie several times a week. I spent so much money on the ‘phone I was afraid it would break me, but it seemed worth while. She was such a down to earth person, and a hard worker; I planned to ask her to marry me. Somehow it seemed fitting; she had lost her husband and I had lost my wife. And Little Steve needed a father—all boys need a man around the house.

When the rig drilled a dry hole, the company said for me to head back to the Dallas area. I called Roxie and told her to expect me because I was coming through Oxford and had a surprise for her. “What on earth is your surprise,” she asked.

“Never you mind, you’ll find out when I get there. I should make it by about dark today. That’ll be all right won’t it?”

“Oh yes! That’ll be great, Little Steve and I’ll be thrilled to see you. You were so kind to us. And I have a surprise for you too,” she laughed.

“What is your surprise?”

“Oh no, you wouldn’t tell me yours—we’ll both have to wait until tonight.”
“Okay then, until tonight.”

I hung the phone up and removed the small black box from my pocket and opened it. For the tenth time I looked at the small diamond engagement ring and felt embarrassment at the size of the tiny stone, but I knew Roxie would understand. I closed the box and put it back in my pocket. I jumped in the pickup and headed for Oxford .

It was a little before seven when I arrived at her mother’s home. I pulled into the graveled driveway and parked behind a late model, blue Lincoln . Roxie rushed from the house and ran to the truck by the time I’d killed the engine.

She grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the house. “Come on Ben, I want you to see my surprise. Little Steve’s with mother; she’s gone to a friend’s house.”

As she dragged me through the open front door there was a little dark headed fellow, not a great deal bigger than Roxie, getting up from the sofa. He seemed friendly as he was holding out his hand and smiling. “So, you’re Ben McCord. Roxie has told me how you helped her get back home after Steve’s untimely death. I certainly do thank you. My name is Howard Threlfall.” I shook his hand and dumbly nodded.

“Don’t you think he’s grand, Ben! He owns the local pharmacy, and that’s his big Lincoln outside. We’re gonna be married, and live in his big brick home! I’m so happy I’m about to bust my britches! Who would’ve ever thought that Howard was here all the time just waitin’ for me to come back? I was so miserable when I saw you the last time. But now the government’s paid me all that money and we’re rich. Howard’s got great plans for another drug store in Wichita , and he says we’ll just have money rolling in! Aren’t you happy for me?”

I felt like I’d gone through a time warp. I didn’t know these people. What was I thinking about? Marrying? “Uh . . . yeah, I’m . . . umm, happy for you, and Howard. I uh . . . only have a moment; I’m . . . on a tight schedule. I’d—yeah, I’d better go.”

Grinning like a possum caught in a bright light at midnight, she hugged Howard and said, “Don’t you even have time for a cup of coffee?”

“No, I reckon I’d better catch you later.”

I hurried through the door, and was half way to the truck when she called, “What was your surprise?”

“Oh, nothing much,” I stopped, turned, and went back to the lighted porch area. Reaching in my coat pocket, I pulled out a small package of brightly colored marbles I’d brought for Little Steve and tossed them to her. “They’re for Little Steve.”

“You’re such a kind and thoughtful person, Ben. I know he’ll like them a lot.”

“Yeah, sure,” I said.

My last view of Roxie was her snuggled up to Howard as they stood in the lighted doorway.

I drove down the road with mixed feelings. Like an idiot I had seen a female and mentally molded her into the girl of my dreams. She may not have had clay feet, but I could see now she was a far cry from the girl I had in mind. With time Roxie would become wrinkled like cheap tinsel on last year’s Christmas tree. But maybe I was just angry with myself. I’d bet she hadn’t sent me a check either. Oh, well, it was little enough to pay for the lesson life had taught me. I felt the small box in my pocket. It seems I’ll have to keep my dreams in my pocket a little longer.

The End

Thank you, CAFE OF DREAMS for having me. Thank you, dear readers for staying with me this long. I love you all.

Richard

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About Scattered Leaves:

When Ben McCord comes home from a business trip to find his young wife raped and murdered, he starts out on a journey of death and destruction. Clues lead him to a dark world of drugs and violence in action that spans Texas, Colorado, and the Mexican border. McCord hooks up with a beautiful doctor, who was also victimized by members of the same drug cartel, and together they track down the killers, surviving bloody confrontations, and ending with a suspenseful climax in the Big Thicket of Texas.

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About Richard Roach:

Suspense/Mystery author Richard Roach was born in 1931 in Galveston, Texas. Short stories of his have been published in Man’s Story 2, Happy 2007, Vol. 20 and Bibliophilos 2006, Vol. 42. His first novel, Scattered Leaves, hit the book stores on September 1, ’08, and his second novel, Scattered Money, will be published in 2009.

You can visit his website at www.richarderoach.com.

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Win Prizes!

SCATTERED LEAVES VIRTUAL BLOG TOUR '09 will officially begin on April 1 and end on April 30. You can visit Richard's blog stops at http://www.virtualbooktours.wordpress.com/ in April to find out more about this great book and talented author!

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