Chapter 7

John “Bubba” Anson was a huge man, there was no doubt about it. He stood six feet, five inches and weighed just a tad over three hundred pounds.

Bubba gave the impression of a man who could lose some weight and there were a few extra pounds gathered around his middle, but most of his bulk was courtesy of a life spent hauling logs.

His family had been in the business for as long as anybody could remember, acquiring contracts for timber, cutting the trees, hauling them off and selling them. There had been good times and bad times over the years. Now was a bad time as the timber companies had more wood than they needed thanks to good weather.

Bubba was standing down the street, leaning against a building that once held a lumber and hard wood company that sold products for half a century before closing some eight years ago.

Now the building was filled with stuff that the current owner acquired at auctions and would sell to the public.

Bubba was wanting to talk to the newspaper man, to see if he might be able to help. Somebody needed to help him quick. He didn’t know who the other man was, but automatically didn’t trust the man since he was an outsider.

Bubba didn’t much care for outsiders. He also didn’t care for people he didn’t know well, but knew the newspaper man had once lived in Langford and would understand his situation.

He had been waiting for a long time until the two men parted company. The newspaper man was now standing between two other guys that Bubba knew from The Last Call, Langford’s most popular bar.

Bubba didn’t know the other two that well, just knew one of them was crude and would chase any girl who could breath while the other was rumored to be well equipped.

He slowly walked down the sidewalk. Bubba wore an old pair of overalls that time had turned and wear had turned almost white. The pants had holes on both knees, not that Bubba cared about his appearance. His work boots were also worn, especially at the toes, exposing some of the steel that had protected his toes on more than one occasion.

Bubba didn’t come to town much. He preferred working and staying in his small cabin and twenty acres in the hills just south of Langford. Bubba watched the firefighters still trying to get the blaze under control.

He knew this probably wasn’t the best time to talk to the guy from the newspaper, but Bubba was out of options. It was either now or never.

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Michael was still blown away by the story the FBI agent just told him. Squiggy was trying to get the information, but wasn’t having much luck as Michael was sworn to secrecy.

This was the kind of information that could get a person injured or killed and with the way Squiggy blabbed around town, word would get around. Michael had his problems with Squiggy’s behavior, but still didn’t want his friend to be in jeopardy.

Michael didn’t really want to be in jeopardy himself. Apparently he no longer had a choice in the matter. He saw the large man approaching. Michael stepped back, but could tell this man didn’t seem like the type to hurt anybody.

He had a rough appearance, but a kind face. The man stopped just short of Michael. “Excuse me,” Bubba said. “I needs to talk with you.”

Squiggy turned around and saw the newcomer. “Hey, whadda you say, Fatty?”

The man’s face turned for a second. Gone was the kind look, replaced by a look that showed he was not a person to be messed with. “I don’t like you calling me that.”

Squiggy also noticed the reaction and shut up. The man could probably crush Squiggy with one hand.

“Hey, you got any beer?” Mule said. “We’s about out.”

The man shook his head, causing his long beard to sway against the overalls. The beard was still brown for the most part, mixed with a few speckles of grey.

“Sure,” Michael said. “What can I do for you?”

The man walked away and Michael followed. They stopped in front of the next building, the second part of the old Burroughs Building. This one was also empty with large glass windows across the front that so far had escaped the vagrants that seemed to enjoy destroying other people’s property.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” Bubba said. He seemed a little antsy, constantly looking around.

“It’s okay,” Michael said. “What can I do for you?”

“I gotta get some help. They’re after me.”

“Who’s after you?”

“They are.”

Michael was afraid he knew who “they” were without hearing it from this huge man. “What can I do for you?”

“I can’t get no help from the law,” Bubba said. “If I don’t sell my place, they are gonna get me.”

“Okay, but what can I do?”

“I don’t know…maybe write up a story about what they’s doing.”

“What are they doing?” Michael said.

Bubba started to say something, then saw something across the road that caused his face to go white. “I gotta go!”

“Hang on,” Michael said. The man had already turned and was walking back where he came from, his eyes never veering from the location across the street. Michael looked in that direction and saw a man standing at the corner. He was also a large man, wearing a white dress shirt, jeans and boots that were similar to the man who had shot the police chief earlier.

The man was watching Bubba stride down the sidewalk. He stayed in that position until Bubba got in his old truck. It took several cranks to get the old Chevy running. After getting the engine going, Bubba flew off down the road, going so fast that he almost drove like the teenagers.

Michael looked back. The man had vanished into the darkness. Within seconds, a newer truck pulled out from behind a building and took off in the same direction as Bubba had gone.

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Jimmy Don Anson was Bubba’s brother. Like his brother, Jimmy Don was also a huge man. But unlike his brother, there wasn’t anything peaceful about his appearance or demeanor.

He had calmed some over the years, but was not a person anybody in the county would want to mess with. Jimmy Don was bad before he entered the service and worse after his discharge. He did jobs with the military that nobody else would consider doing.

Jimmy Don was a little irked at the moment. He was sitting in a rocker on his front porch in front of a cabin that was much like his brother’s. It needed some work, but Jimmy Don didn’t have painting high on his list of to-do’s.

His bird dog, Spike, was lying next to him. A pretty dog, mostly white with some brown over parts of his head and black dots on his body.

Spike knew his owner was upset, so he was also. Jimmy Don’s patience was about up. He had never run from a fight in his whole life and didn’t intend to start now. Jimmy Don had a pretty good idea what was going on in this valley and didn’t like it one bit.

They could intimidate his neighbors and his brother, but Jimmy Don was a different story. He got up from the rocker and walked into his house. The living room was not one that would impress many people. There was a wood-burning stove over in the corner. On one wall was an old couch that was on its last legs. The dog usually slept on the couch while Jimmy Don sat in a recliner that worked less than half the time.

Jimmy Don bypassed the living room and went back to the only bedroom in the cabin. There was a mattress on the floor with sheets scattered about. He reached the gun safe, entered a combination and grabbed a gun that Jimmy Don knew well.He grabbed some shells, put some in the rifle and a few others in the pocket of his overalls. Jimmy Don put a hat on his head and walked back outside. This time, he didn’t stop at the rocker.

Instead, he walked over to the old barn. Spike accompanied him, trailing exactly two steps behind, just like he had been taught. Jimmy Don pulled up just short of the barn. He knew exactly where they were, all four of them.

One was hiding behind an old stump on the hill that separated his property from his brother’s land. The second man was behind an oak tree next to the creek that ran behind Jimmy Don’s house. A third man hid in a ditch that ran parallel to the driveway.

The fourth was the one that attracted Jimmy Don’s attention. This man was good, but not good enough. He had concealed himself behind some overgrown shrubs roughly two hundred yards into the trees.

Most people wouldn’t have a clue there were people watching him. Jimmy Don knew and was ready to put a stop to it. He was at least as tall as Bubba, but moved with a brisk pace. Jimmy Don sat down on the back tailgate of his old truck and took aim.

The other three men quickly abandoned their post and high tailed it back into the cover. Jimmy Don had the fourth man in his scope. He could see the man’s face. The man smiled back at Jimmy Don, almost taunting him.

Jimmy Don was not amused. He slowly applied pressure to the rifle’s trigger and noticed that the man’s smile had faded away.