Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

��������The next morning, Shane found himself without a job but not without a cause. He had gotten up early and driven the twelve miles to the county seat where he was waiting for the courthouse to open. He sat in his truck listening to his favorite country music cassette and studied the old building. He admired the obvious skilled craftsmanship that had been used more than a hundred years ago. He wished that the builders of today would do something they could be proud of, and something that would still be standing in a hundred years. Today it was hurry, hurry, and the bottom-line profit that was the most important. Hank Williams Jr. had just finished singing, "A Country Boy Can Survive", when the heavy wooden doors of the courthouse were unlocked and fastened open. Shane ejected the cassette, grabbed his keys, and exited the pickup.
Entering the courthouse, Shane marveled at the exquisite marble floor for a few seconds, and then found the County Attorney�s office. He soon learned that the Attorney wouldn't be in until late afternoon, so he wandered aimlessly around for a while, and then found the sheriff�s office. Shane entered and walked up to a massive wooden desk where he waited patiently for the deputy to finish writing. After a few seconds, the small man behind the desk put his pen down.
���������Can I help ya with somethin�?�
Shane thought about how much the deputy reminded him of Barney Fife on the Andy Griffith show, and had to swallow a grin. Regaining control, Shane explained about how the new road was going through an Indian burial ground and that the old graves were being dug up. The deputy got a puzzled look on his thin face but didn't say anything for a moment, and then spoke in a high-pitched voice.
�I think you had best talk to the High Sheriff. You wait there and I�ll tell him you're here.�
Shane coughed to stop a laugh that nearly escaped because this deputy also sounded much like the TV deputy.
Standing, the chair the deputy had been sitting in rolled backward and swiveled around as if it were looking for someone. The deputy strutted toward an open door, and upon entering, closed it behind him. Shane could hear laughter coming from behind the closed door and instantly knew that he wouldn't get any help there. After a few moments, the deputy came back followed closely by a much heftier man wearing a cowboy hat, cowboy boots, and a giant silver belt buckle fastened around a pair of tan dress slacks with the pockets trimmed in dark brown. Shane managed not to laugh out loud at the comical pair and simply smiled.
Reaching his hand out in a sociable gesture, and smiling back at Shane through tobacco stained yellow teeth, the hefty man spoke in his vote for me voice.
�Howdy, I�m Sheriff Atkins. What can I do for ya?�
Shane shook hands with the personable man and quickly glanced back at the open door to see if a horse might also be following the cowboy sheriff. The stench of cigar smoke that encased the lawman was even more noticeable than his fancy duds. Backing away from the strong odor as much as possible without being obvious, Shane told the sheriff his story.
��������A quizzical look formed on the clean shaven face before Sheriff Atkins spoke. �Yeah, I heard about that yesterday. What do ya want me ta do about it? There ain�t no law against diggin� up dead Injuns; and besides, nobody cares but you. But, bein' as you are so interested in grave diggin', maybe you can tell me who's been diggin' in the Goshen Church Cemetery."
��������Shane's head snapped up and he took a step backward as if he had been punched. The shocked look was obviously real; even to the sheriff who was watching closely. It took several seconds before he recovered enough to answer the question.
��������"I didn't know about that. You mean somebody's digging up the graves?"
"Yeah, that's what I mean. Oh, I'm just guessin' now mind ya, but maybe you should care more about real graves than just some old bone-yard." He leaned across the room divider and folded his hands as if to challenge Shane to attempt to argue the point.
��������Shane recognized the challenge, hesitated, glanced at the silver badge, then without speaking he turned and walked out of the office. He wasn't looking for trouble, and truly didn't know anything about grave digging at the Goshen Cemetery. Shane wondered if it was true or just something the sheriff had made up � he hadn't seen or heard anything about it on the local news. He slowly became angry at himself for not defending his belief that dead people should be left alone, regardless of who they were. And this was the second time somebody had said that nobody cared about the old Native graves. But he did care, and felt certain that he couldn�t be alone in his caring. Nevertheless, Shane left the courthouse feeling very much alone. Maybe everybody else is right---maybe nobody but me does care. His thoughts directly influenced his mood, but this was still new enough that he hadn�t identified his mood, yet.
��������Shane stood on the sidewalk and mindlessly watched an old pickup truck belching blue smoke from where a muffler should have been. The noise caused by the lack of a muffler was almost completely overpowered by the six huge hogs squealing their complaints about the unwanted ride. Watching the truck allowed his line of vision to take in a small cafe across the street. Ignoring the all too familiar mixture of odors produced by the pickup truck, he went toward the cafe with a cup of coffee on his mind.
Upon entering the cafe, the first thing Shane noticed was that the place was decorated in the 1950's-style with the round stools lined up in front of the counter. On the wall behind the counter hung a round Coca Cola sign like the ones he had seen as a kid growing up in South Dakota. Shane made his way past the crowded tables to the counter where he found an empty stool that was still warm from the previous customer.
Shane removed his cap, placed it on the counter in front of him, and ran his fingers through his hair. It did nothing to improve the tangled mess that the cap had concealed so well, but it was something he always did; more out of habit than actually trying to improve his appearance. In less than a minute, a waitress with long raven-black hair and a dark complexion greeted him. Shane ordered a cup of coffee and sat there sulking. His thoughts were simple; he didn�t know what to do, but knew that he wasn�t going to give up. Besides, I�ve gone too far to quit now; I already lost my job.
��������The waitress came over to refill his cup and said, �You look like you lost your best friend.�
��������Shane raised his head, looked into her dark eyes, and noticed for the first time how lovely she was. The nearly perfect white teeth that shone brightly when she smiled complimented her dark features. The clean pink and white waitress uniform with the short lacy apron flattered her petite build.
���������More coffee?� she asked sweetly.
��������Shane slid his cup toward her, and with a forced smile said, �Sure.� Looking at her oval shaped face he asked, �You wouldn�t by any chance be American Indian would you?�
��������The smile left her face and her black eyes seemed to get even darker as her eyes locked on his and she spoke flatly, �Yeah---do ya have a problem with that?�
��������Shane was a little taken back by her response and was unsure of what to say next. After a moment of awkward silence, the girl walked away leaving him to feel foolish. He sat there quietly nursing his coffee until some of the unpleasant feelings subsided. He stood and the anger at his own stupidity was showing in his every move. Shane dropped a dollar on the counter, slapped his cap back on his unruly hair and headed for the door. Now he recognized his mood---it was anger.
��������Leaving the caf�, Shane got into his pickup and started out of town with the intention of going home, but he couldn�t get the dark-haired girl off his mind. I not only let the dead Native people down by not being able to stop the digging, but now I have offended a live one. What did I do that was so wrong? But, like so many other times around a woman, he had apparently put his foot in his mouth. Shane remembered that in high school the other boys used to say he had hoof in mouth disease because he couldn�t talk to girls. The farther he drove, the angrier with himself he became, until finally he turned around and went back. He didn�t know what to say to the girl, but felt confident he would think of something when the time came.
��������When Shane entered the caf�, his mind remained blank and he still didn�t know what to say, so he just sat at one of the now empty tables. The noontime rush was over and the small caf� was calm and quiet.
The petite waitress walked over to him, and with her dark eyes flashing said, �Did you come back for more coffee, or more talk?�
��������Shane could feel the blood rush into his face and there was another awkward moment of silence before he spoke. �No, I came back to answer your question. Yeah, I do have a problem with Indians, but the ones I�m having a problem with have been dead for two or three hundred years. There�s a new road going through a burial ground and I can�t stop it." Now he allowed his eyes to meet hers as though it would emphasize what he said. "I reckon nobody cares but me."
��������A look of shock swept over her face but was quickly replaced with a look of understanding. Without speaking the waitress walked away but soon returned with a fresh cup of coffee. Placing the cup in front of Shane she said, �I care too, and I owe you an apology. I get off work in about fifteen minutes---If you will wait, we can talk.�
��������When her shift was over, she returned to Shane�s table and sat directly across from him. She couldn�t help noticing Shane�s muscular build and handsome square jawed face.
���������Hi, I�m Holly�I owe you an apology. The cops and some customers have been harassing me all morning about somebody digging graves in the Goshen Cemetery. I didn't know about the burial ground, but that explains why everybody is giving me a hard time. So, tell me what�s going on.�
��������Shane introduced himself, and asked about the Goshen Cemetery explaining that the Sheriff had questioned him about it too. "I didn't believe him though. There wasn't anything on the news about it so I thought he was telling a political lie. You know; just a little something to get me to see things differently."
��������Holly laughed a little saying, "Yeah, politicians are good at that. And the reason the cemetery grave digging was not on the news, is because it happened last night. Nobody found it until this morning, so it will be on the evening news. Okay, now tell me about the burial grounds."
��������Shane hesitated for a half-moment for the information about the cemetery to gel in his brain, and then told her the whole story about the Native graves. When he finished, they sat in silence for a few moments before he asked, "What did you mean when you said the news about the burial grounds explains why everybody is bugging you?"
���������Think about it. White men are digging Native graves, and then all of a sudden somebody digs a white mans grave. Who do you think would get the blame?"
��������Shane didn't have to think long or hard to get her point, and nodded his head saying only, "Yeah."
��������Holly watched him for a few seconds before continuing, "I understand what you�re saying and feeling about the old burial grounds. The Native people have been trying for years to get laws passed to stop the digging of our ancestral burial grounds in this state.� Again a long moment of silence passed before Holly asked her next question. �So, why do you care?�
��������Now Shane had to do some explaining, but he didn't know where to start. Should I tell her how my parents died when I was still just a kid and that I was raised by my grandmother? Is it necessary for her to know my grandmother was Native American? These questions flashed through his mind in an instant, but he decided that he didn't know her well enough to share personal information. Shane simply answered, �I guess it�s just a matter of principle." Then asked, "Why has it taken years and no laws have been passed yet?�
��������Holly�s answer was quick and blunt, �Money.� Then she went on to explain. �The desecration of the Native graves puts a lot of money in a lot of pockets, and some of those pockets also hold a lot of political power.�
��������There was yet another lull in the conversation while Holly sized up the situation, and the man sitting in front of her. After a few seconds, she decided that the man deserved a chance to prove himself, and the situation certainly needed to be looked into.
���������We should talk to my father; he might know what to do. Will you go with me so you can explain all the details?�
��������"Sure, I'd be happy to" Shane replied and they left the cafe.
��������Outside, Shane went to his dusty pickup. He saw how dirty it was and wondered why he hadn't noticed that fact before. A person could barely make out that it was supposed to be shiny black with much more than the usual amount of chrome trim. Shane was embarrassed for the lady he had just met to see it in this condition. Disrepair was one thing, but dirty�
��������After Holly got into her beat-up VW bug near the back of the parking lot, Shane climbed into his pickup to follow her to wherever she was going.
��������Holly pulled alongside him and asked, �Which direction from here do you live?� When Shane answered, she said, �We go the other way to go out to Dad�s. If you�re not afraid to ride with a woman driver, you can ride with me. It's no problem; I live here in town and have to come back anyway.�
��������Without speaking, Shane switched off the engine and got out locking his door. He opened the passenger door of the VW and crammed his ample frame into the seat.

Author's Note

Should I persue this? Is there a market? The character's thoughts are in a different font.

Reviews

[mick weller]

There is a extra space here - (ok I was expecting something happening `later`...) before
Shane raised his head
in his every move - clich�?
he asked, "What (he asked: "What )
I think the dialogue seems a little wooden at times, but you manage to reveal the story through dialogue well
I also like the way you include details which give life to the piece ...
`The shocked look was obviously real;` - sometimes it's better to let the reader fill in the details ie. you describe his shock but then say it as well ...
I think too it's better to try and work the dialogue at the beginning of the line (?)
more of the story revealed ... cares enough to lose his job - meets girl with similar interest - multi-viewpoint allows us to see that she finds him attractive - here:
`She couldn't help noticing Shane's muscular build and handsome square jawed face.` - so we see her side of the story briefly - I have a bit of a problem with that but many writers don't! - but it gives us the opportunity to realise something else going on here ...
We know they are heading off to find out more - so good lead to next chapter, yeah?
I like the way he's suddenly concious of his appearance too - aint that the way! ha ha
`to follow her to wherever she was going' - ` unecessary? - no doubt you will tell us anyway ... - her father's?
there is a lot of care in the creation of this and I have enjoyed it - topical - desecration of ancient burial grounds ... and now the cemetery too..?
hopefully you got more of this?
cheers - good write - some fundamentals with presentation but it seems you got the weight of the story behind you somehow and this comes across