Chapter 34
The next day, Righty started out by going to the doctor. He got some stitches put on the back of his head and a brace for his knee. He was relieved beyond description when the doctor didn’t ask too many questions and even more relieved when the doctor told him his knee should heal on its own. Righty’s knee was already a bit better, although he still favored his left leg as he walked or stood. After leaving the doctor’s office, he went straight to his store. He was busy from the get-go because as soon as he got there he saw a wagon waiting outside loaded with inventory and one of Mr. Hoffmeyer’s employees waiting for Righty to sign for it and take it off his hands. To Righty’s relief, the employee was helpful in unloading the wagon, and by the time they were about halfway through unloading that inventory another couple wagons showed up.
The men driving those wagons also helped him put the inventory into the store, but putting it onto the actual shelves was going to be his privilege as the owner. He had talked to Janie last night about whether she would be interested in working in the store, and he was immensely relieved when she had said that, while she would be happy to help out whenever he needed it, she would prefer to keep working at the library as her main job. That suited Righty just fine. He was content he wouldn’t have to be explaining himself every time he stepped outside the door.
His knee was giving him hell whenever he tried to kneel and lift anything heavy. He had planned hiring a young clerk within a couple days, but his knee groused so adamantly about the abuse it was being subjected to that Righty went ahead and placed the following placard on the door:
HELP WANTED
ABLE-BODIED, NO EXPERIENCE NECESSARY
An hour or two later a young man entered and asked about the pay. Righty sized him up and thought he looked like a good fit, so he offered him ten falons per hour to start but with the promise that “hard work would be rewarded.” The young man looked around twenty and had an honest countenance. His name was Robert. He accepted the offer, and Righty put him to work on the spot.
Righty handed him a hundred falons and said, “If you finish early today, keep the change. Otherwise, call it a day at ten hours. I’m not looking to run you ragged your first day here. I’ll be back later to inspect.”
To his satisfaction, he saw the young man get to work with a spark in his step, and Righty headed home, hoping against hope Janie would be at the library working.
He didn’t waste any time going out to check on his plants. He was now happier than ever that a few weeks ago he had had the foresight to buy some empty barrels and fill them up at a creek in the woods not too far from his plants. Had he been required to fill those barrels today, it would have been a task beyond his capabilities.
He now had big money riding on these plants, and as their fortune went so would his. He wasn’t going to be happy if these plants died of thirst just because he was too injured to water them, so hoped against hope his knee would heal by the time he used up the water already in the barrels.
He arrived and started watering them one by one. His once small garden had now turned into a miniature farm, and it extended well beyond the protective enclosure that would have kept it a secret from any but the closest observers. Nonetheless, while it had ventured beyond these bounds it still wasn’t exactly a bright sign on Main Street reading RIGHTY’S SMOKELESS GREEN FARM.
However, Righty was starting to get a little worried that it was only a matter of time before some curious kid—as he had been once upon a time—went traipsing through the area and, even if he didn’t have a clue what crop he was looking at, realized he was looking at some kind of garden. Then, word would spread, and even if Righty didn’t end up in jail he could easily end up losing the source of his burgeoning wealth—which, while expanding quickly, was still in its infant stages.
He considered the possibility of planting more small trees, similar to the ones making up the enclosure, in order to extend the layer of natural camouflage, but he realized this would be a gargantuan task to do by himself, and it was out of the question while his knee was still hurt.
While he was mulling over these dilemmas, he was suddenly ripped from his reverie by a sound in the forest. He pulled out his dagger in a flash, but, alas, he achieved a standing position with far less rapidity. Joints popped so vigorously throughout his body that for a moment he wondered whether it had not been a sound produced by his battered body that had caught his attention.
He thought he felt a slight breeze pass over his body, which seemed strange, as there had been little wind today. Suddenly, he got the eerie sensation that someone was standing right behind him. He twirled around, dagger in hand, hoping he looked more intimidating than he felt.
There, facing him, no more than six to eight feet away was a beast unlike anything he had ever seen, although his gut told him immediately it must have been the creature that had attacked and killed several people yesterday, apparently for sport.
Righty forgot for a moment that he didn’t want to attract any unnecessary attention to this section of the woods, but he couldn’t contain the shriek that escaped from his lips as he twirled around and began shuffling as fast as he could sideways, certain that at any moment he would feel sharp talons gripping his chest, yanking him high up into the air, and then dropping him for the amusement of this terrible monster.
“You fool,” he heard a calm voice say.
For a moment, his avarice—perhaps the most powerful of human emotions—dispelled from his mind the image of the horrid creature behind him. Instead, he felt sure that standing somewhere near him was a human intruder ready to begin helping himself to about four barrel-fulls of Smokeless Green. Righty was ready to maul whoever had just spoken. This intruder may have found his garden, but he wouldn’t live to tell anyone about it.
He whipped around in a flash, dagger stretched out, but saw no one. Just the monster looking at him calmly, as if to say, Are you quite through with your histrionics?
For a moment, the two just looked at each other. And Righty found that the longer he looked at this thing, the closer he came to regaining its calm. Its eyes seemed intelligent and piercing but unaggressive.
Harold had no intention of getting into a tedious explanation as to why he could talk, much less an argument as to whether he could talk, so he cut to the chase: “I failed you yesterday. You were injured. I had been reluctant to reveal myself to you until I felt the time was right. I waited too long.” Harold then bowed his head briefly in a sign of deference before raising it.
Righty didn’t know if this was some sort of sick trick the beast was playing with him to get him to come a little closer so that it could then show him how much fun it is to go hurtling up into the air at breakneck speeds only to then be tossed down and break his neck.
“Why would you want to protect me?” Righty asked—still suspicious as to whether this conversation was really happening and that he wasn’t simply suffering delayed effects from his years of alcohol abuse, and doubly suspicious as to whether this thing would indeed seek to help him.
“My duty is to protect you. I owe you no explanations. Perhaps, in time, you will earn them.”
Righty found himself oddly liking the bird upon receiving this thorny response. He admired people that didn’t tell more than they needed to, and if this thing really was talking, he saw no reason why he couldn’t admire that trait in an animal. Trust, however, was going to be hard-earned with something that could tear him to shreds upon impulse.
“Well,” Righty began slowly, not sure quite what to say, but feeling he had better say something. Running was hardly an option. His left-foot shuffle was unlikely to outpace a creature he had seen yesterday use a human club to whack the daylights out of someone sprinting madly.
Attacking it wasn’t exactly an option. It would have him upside down banging his head against every tree in the forest before he could so much as inflict a scratch. And the cat was pretty much out of the bag as
far as his secret agricultural project. So, why not talk to it?
“I guess I’m lucky to have you as my protector,” Righty finally finished, after a long, awkward pause, wondering how sincere his insincere comment sounded.
“That would be an understatement,” came Harold’s response, thorny enough both in tone and content to make the prior response look rather flattering.
“Well, how does this work? Will you follow me about day and night and keep me out of harm’s way, or do we need to have meetings such as this one?”
“Why did those men attack you?” Harold responded, feeling more in the mood to ask questions than answer them.
“Well, as for their leader, because I killed his brother.”
“Why?”
“He threatened me and my family.”
Harold was silent for a moment.
“I knew that.”
“Then why would you ask?”
“To see if you would tell the truth.”
“How would you know if I was telling the truth?”
“I can hear Janie arriving at your house right now. In fact, she’s calling your name. Don’t you hear it?”
Righty looked severely at the bird, wishing it were a few sizes smaller so that he could bash its brains in.
“Don’t worry. I just heard her go inside.”
“Okay, so you hear very well. How long have you been following me?”
“For a while.”
“What now?”
“Do you expect to have many more battles?”
“I hope not.”
“But do you expect it?”
“Unfortunately, yes. But I don’t plan on getting blindsided again, and much less by someone with a sword when all I’ve got are these!” And Righty pulled out the brass knuckles and dagger angrily.
“Do you believe a sword would be the answer to your problems?”
“It would be a start.”
“But you don’t know how to use a sword. If you did, you would have used your dagger rather than strapping bludgeons onto your knuckles.”
Righty looked angrily again at the bird. He hated how this thing saw right through him, especially regarding his weaknesses.
“So, I don’t know how to use a sword. I can learn. It’s not exactly like I was born knowing how to use my fists, and you’ve seen what I can do with them.”
Righty’s anger started to turn to curiosity as he noticed a playful twinkle in the bird’s eyes. It was clear it was holding a lot back from him, but there was something in particular that was tickling its feathers at the moment.
“What is it?!” Righty exploded.