TITLE: Redemption Chap 4 b 25 Mar
By Randy Somers
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Wilson walked to the frig and held up a bottle of beer with a questioning look. Buck shook his head and asked for a coke. Taking their drinks, both men went outside to sit on the bench. The spring sun shone and warmth soaked into the earth. They spent time sharing travel and life stories.
“I’m the luckiest man alive,” Wilson continued.
“Why anyone as sweet and beautiful as my Cassandra would hang around with me, I don’t know.”
Buck swallowed and asked, “How long have you two been together?”
“We dated for a couple of years after high school and then got married. Her daddy’s a nice guy. Encouraged me to take this business when it came up. Cassie backed me up all the way.”
Wilson got out his wallet and showed Buck a picture of his wife and three daughters. “Wow! You are a lucky man,” Buck said, handing back the picture. “Cassie is beautiful. Lucky the girls take after their Mother. Where’d you two meet?”
“You got that right! Both beauty and brains come from Mom.
“We met at Church. My Mom badgered me into going for a while, trying to get me to settle down, not fight so much. Cassie sang in the choir. I lost my heart the first Sunday.”
“Did it work?”
“I embarrassed to admit it, but yes. I’ve settled right down. Having a loving wife and three girls to support makes a man realize how blessed he is. I wouldn’t want to lose that for anything.”
“How bout you? What you been doin with yer life? You got a family?”
Buck searched his mind, trying to decide what to tell. “I’ve been a wanderer for a few years. Been trying to find a place to roost. Done several jobs that were fun. One time I joined a group of environmental specialist who thought of the great idea of catching and tagging rattle snakes.”
Wilson shivered. “Rattle snakes were meant to be killed and skinned. Eaten if you like. Got more than my share out back if they want to come here.”
Buck laughed, “It had its moments. This state group had mostly young girls who were scared to death of snakes. I’d catch one and hold its head down. They were supposed to stretch em out, measure em, count their rattles and slip on a small tag.
“Most of the time, they just stood with the clip board and pencil. Every once in a while a snake would get away from me. It’d usually scoot for cover, but it made those girls dance. Their high screeches almost busted my ear drums.”
Wilson laughed at the picture. “Did all of those snakes escape or did you let em go.”
“I stand by my story, they escaped. But I’ll admit I grew bored a lot. I liked watching them girls dance.”
“Ever get bit?”
“No. Came close once. A big six footer latched onto my boot. It’s fangs stuck fast in the leather. I kicked it away and had to get pliers to pull the fangs outta my boot.”
Buck laughed. “We took a break one hot afternoon and two of the girls fell asleep. One of the guys took a piece of wire and hooked it through a dead snake and looped it around this poor girl’s belt loop.
“He walked a few away and yelled ‘snake.’ This girl jumped up and saw the snake and ran. It took twenty minutes to catch her and get that wire off of her. She was a tough one. She took that dead snake and smacked it up against the young boys head.”
Wilson didn’t laugh as much as this one. He hated snakes. “I feel sorry for that girl.”
Draining his beer, “Come on. Let’s find your muffler.
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