Next World Series | Vol. 6 | Families First [Battle Grounds] Ewing, K. (free ebooks for android .txt) 📖

“Tell you what,” said James. “I think you may know something about what I’m looking into. My friend Jason here is going to use one of our best flies and catch a fish for you in five minutes or less from the first cast. Then you tell me your story. If it’s what I’m looking for, I’ll give you my fly rod and three flies, just like the one he’s using. If you can’t help me, at least you have one fish to eat. Deal?”

“This isn’t a trick, is it? I mean, you really can’t walk, right?”

“If I could, I’d be the one in that lake catching your fish. So, what’s it going to be?” asked James.

“Deal. It’s a deal,” both men agreed, now back safely on the lake’s bank, next to their children.

Jason walked back to the truck and retrieved the rod and tackle box. “Now, where did you say he caught those fish?” he asked.

“Right out there—thigh-deep, sir,” came the reply.

Jason cast six times in just over four minutes, bringing up a healthy two-pound trout, getting squeals out of the girls.

“Thank you, sir,” said one man. “You have no idea what this means for our kids.”

“Yes, I think I do,” said Jason, feeling flushed but in a good way.

“What did you see yesterday, sir?” asked James, getting right to it.

“Well, the man I told you about fishing left, walking right up that road. Not long later, another man came driving up with one of those big silver trailers behind his truck.”

“Like an Airstream trailer?” asked James.

“Yes, I think that’s what they call those fancy ones. Anyhow, the fishing guy came back and hid under the trailer. All at once, he started shooting at the other guy’s legs. By the time we saw what was happening, the trailer guy was a goner. Happened right over there, about thirty yards down the shore!”

“What did he look like?” asked James—“the guy who got shot.”

“Well, he wore a black hat and matching boots.”

“Got them right here!” said his little girl before he could shush her.

“Now, I don’t want you thinking we just robbed someone. They left him for dead and if we didn’t take them, somebody else would have. That’s the truth.”

“I’m not judging you,” replied James, recognizing both the hat and boots. “Where’s the body?”

“Across the road,” he pointed. “The woman said just to leave him lying in the road and drove off with the other guy.”

“I owe you two more flies,” said James, nodding for Jason to hand the man his pole. “I want to take a look at the body, and I’ll be right back with your flies.”

“Sure thing.”

Reaching the ditch across the road, the body wasn’t hard to find, facedown in the soft dirt.

“Sorry about this, Jason, but I need to see where he was sho... No, I guess I don’t,” James added, staring at the back of Sheriff Johnson’s head.

Jason turned him, and both identified the man as the former Sheriff of Weston. They retrieved the flies and already smelled the fresh fish cooking over the fire.

* * * *

“We’re even now,” said James to the two fathers cooking the fish. “Thank you for the information. I thought you said the man was firing from underneath the trailer.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“The wound is to the back of the head. How do you think that happened?”

“It was her!” the little girl screamed. “I saw her—she shot him!” she added, bursting into tears.

“Are you sure?” asked James, now wondering why he even asked. “Of course, you are,” he added, without waiting for her answer. “I have another deal, if you’ll hear it,” said James.

“We’ll hear it,” replied both men.

“I’m not as mobile as I was only a month ago, but I need him buried proper, not out here like some rabbit got run over by a truck.”

“Can’t you just bring him back with you?” asked one of the men.

“We can,” replied James, “but I need your help getting him into the back of my truck. In return, I’ll give you my BOB.”

“Your what?”

“My bug-out bag. I carry it everywhere I go. It has a tent, two sleeping bags, a water filter, a fire starter, a saw-and-ax combo, fishing tackle, and you already have a pole now. There’s a medical kit, MREs, canned food, a flashlight, and a bunch more stuff.”

“That’s a lot to trade for a few minutes’ work!” said one man.

“And I’m not even done,” said James.

“Get him loaded and promise not to speak of this again, and Jason here will teach one of you how to use these flies. We’ll stay until you catch a fish.”

“Why? Why all this? You don’t even know us…”

“Somebody helped me when I needed it the most, when I wondered if I could go on another day,” replied James.

“Me too,” said Jason, nodding to James.

“My friend Jason here needs to pay it forward.”

“You mean like that movie…from the ’90s, I think…”

“Yes, exactly like that, and then it will be your turn to do the same. Maybe not next week or even next year, but sometime it will need to be done.”

“Yes,” they both said. “Yes!”

Jason and one man completed the unpleasant task, and James had a casual conversation with the other and his children.

The fish smelled like heaven, but James wouldn’t take a bite, even when asked repeatedly.

“You have a child or two. I can see it in your eyes. Am I right?” asked the man.

“Billy is my son, and he’s five. Jason over there has three girls.”

“Three, you say. Oh boy, he’s in trouble when...”

“When what, Daddy?” his youngest asked.

“When they get older and think they know everything!”