Chapter 1

A blush of rose color crept up the loose skin on his neck, coming full bloom under his silvery cheek stubble. Sixty years ago, the flush might have resulted from a sexual innuendo resulting in his arm gently guiding a loose lady through the tavern door at midnight.  Today, at 83, Billy Leaks slowly steadies himself on the loose gravel driveway, shifting his bulk by grabbing the rusted handle of his 1995 Ford fifth-wheel.  Firmly braced, he reaches into his loose overalls for a thin blue hankerchief, the flush a result of heat and sweat gathering under his hat.  He takes a deep breath and lets his gaze slowly wander like a rich man taking an afternoon whiskey on the veranda.

He’s late, but he doesn’t have the energy to care anymore. “What the hell, no point in getting a heart attack, right Scratches?”  His constant traveling companion, an old Sheppard mutt Billy Leaks saved from a cruel life and homeless existence on the streets of Guaymas, Mexico so many years ago they both barely remember, gently sways his tail in response to his master’s voice.  Scratches moves closer and plants his scruffy muzzle on Leaks’ thigh and is immediately rewarded with a rub on his ear.

It was only mid morning in southern Arizona, but the temperature was already passing 75 degrees.   The snakes had already disappeared into cool burrows - or under the house, which always had everyone nervous when the grand kids came over to play or Sooky, the Chihuahua was let out for a whiz.  No one in the family had the right temperament to train a stubborn little dog to avoid the snakes. So they all just hoped for the best.  

Billy Leaks squinted into the sun and looked across the small piece of lawn his wife painstakingly watered surrounding their small house.  The grass quickly gave way to scrub as it neared the horse corral some twenty feet away.  You could only maintain so much lawn in Arizona.  He ignored the leaning fence he had promised to fix and barely glanced past what his family called the junk yard partially hidden by an unruly hedge.  What do they know about saving stuff - no, all they know is to ride my ass about getting rid of my stuff.  The dry, scrubby ten acres, one hundred and twenty miles north of the Mexico border was his land.  Well, to be fair it was his wife’s land.  But that was for nobody’s business but his.  Everyone around Bucks County, Arizona knew it was Billy Leaks property.  Bought and paid for.  Or so they thought.

His eyes found what they were looking for.  Far in the field, standing alone, one back leg at rest was Brownie, the mustang he saved from being shot dead by Jake, the local eager-beaver government jackass, Jake’s eyes wild in anticipation of dropping a beautiful animal in full and frenzied gallop from a low flying helicopter. You’re still such a beauty, Brownie, old girl…  He let his mind wander and his dry lips break into a slight smile as he thought of the treat he would bring her - a few cases of big ripe orange and yellow squash from his run.  He sighs in resignation at the day ahead, and feels a mixed bag of happiness knowing his reward for the job would bring Brownie galloping to the fence to meet him, and the pain his body would feel after a full day in the cab without air conditioning and worn out shocks.  He settles his cap back on his head, lets out a silent sigh and says, “OK Scratch , up you go.”  

Billy swings opens the cab door and Scratch gamely jumps in, rotating twice before settling on the passenger side in a cushion worn and imprinted from many such trips.  Billy Leaks knows it’s going to be a long hot day but he’s still not keen to lose a tire or have the trailer twist off the road in a curve, so he double checks the chains and locks of the 17 foot trailer he’s attached himself to.  

As he starts up the old engine, and a puff of black smoke blows out the back, his wife Olivia Leaks hustles across the patch of grass, almost tripping on a toy truck left there by the great grandchildren last week - or maybe a month ago.  She’s going as fast as her arthritic hips allow, waving a rumpled brown bag in the air.  “Old man, you forgot your lunch!”  He watches her push her old body to the max. Crazy old girl.  He shouts, “Maybe I was goin’ to stop at the at the mini-mart on highway 15 next to the Costco exit.”  “Maybe you’d better not.”  “Just pullin your chain, sweetpea.”  “Don’t sweetpea me, old man - just get back safe.”  She hands the bulky sac up to him.  “Sure you don’t want to go with us?  Me n’ Scratches?”  “Not today, hun, I got an achy back.  Don’t go over the speed limit, y’hear?”  As if I could.  “Give Brownie an apple today, would ya sweetpea?  She deserves a treat if I’m away.”  “You care for those animals more than you care for us.”  If you only knew.

Olivia Leaks makes her way back to the house, side-steppping a moderate mound of dog poop and wrinkles her face.  I gotta get to that today. She enters the cool covered porch of the outer house and slips past the large metal table that still holds Christmas decorations, some clothes to take to the Sally Ann, toys abandoned by the grand kids, and the hilariously large can of Costco coffee she must bring over to her daughter, JoyLynn.