A low whistle on the cell phone alerted Logan Wells there was a message. He pulled the dip net loaded with soggy, matted leaves out of the fish hatchery raceway. Then dumped them into a plastic barrel
beside the Cushman. Falling leaves were a daily plague for the raceways. At the Ozarks Springs State
Fish Hatchery, the chore was never-ending until the end of November when the final leaves dropped.
Logan stopped to check the phone. His eleven-year-old son
kept in touch, so his dad knew what was going on in his world. The world of junior
high.
The message was from his brother, Colton. It read, “Hey,
we need to talk. Meet me at the Grill, 5 o’clock sharp. Don’t be late.” It was
just like Colton to tell, not ask.
Logan jabbed the net deep into the water. His mouth clamped
shut, his fists tightened on the handle. After almost a year of not speaking,
Colton probably intended to guilt him into helping on the tree farm. Not a
chance! Nope. Nada.
The net brought up a smattering of leaves. His huff
almost matched the wind whipping through the trees. Logan ignored the message
and finished the job for the day.
****
A week later, Colton Wells sat in a booth by the windows in Mom’s Home Cooking restaurant eating lunch. His pencil poised above a yellow legal pad, his brow furrowed. He worked on a list of things to do. He liked lists. Lists kept him on track. The to-do list grew longer while his confidence grew shorter.
Reaching for the water glass, he kept his eyes on the
paper. The Rocky Corners’ annual turkey shoot was scheduled for the Saturday
before Thanksgiving. Unfortunately, he was thrown into the planning of it due
to the regular senior fellows not being able to oversee it. Chuck had died over
the summer, and then Dave and Bill got sick. Life complications happened. Nothing
to do but continue. Try to do the best job possible.
Also, this year many vendors scheduled their time at
other festivals in the area, leaving this year’s event sparse. He needed
volunteers to donate their time, talent, and prizes. If he could not get enough
help, it was sketchy if the shoot would take place. At this point, there was no
guarantee.
Colton shook his dark head, popping a French fry in his
mouth. He had to make sure this year’s shoot was successful. He was a Wells
man, after all. He prided himself on getting things done. A mover and a shaker.
As a supervisor at the Comfort Step shoe factory, his job demanded he work hard
and efficiently.
The front doorbells jingled a welcome. Colton watched his
brother walk in. Heat climbed his face. He swallowed his food. Pressing his
lips together he realized his hands trembled. He watched Logan speak to the waitress.
Logan didn’t respond to his text. That meant he was still
mad. It would be a year at Christmas when he’d said things so badly that now Logan
refused to speak. And all because of an innocent game of football in their
parents’ backyard. The most wonderful time of the year ended in ruin.
Over the months Colton wanted to make amends. His wife
and parents had reminded him of it when they were together. Somehow life
interfered and it never happened.
He watched Kaylee Hammons, the waitress, bring three
white sacks and a cardboard caddy filled with drinks to the counter. Logan was
going to pay and then leave.
Wiping a sweaty hand on his jeans, Colton stood up. It was
now or never. Time was running out. His chest tightened, almost stopping him.
But pride marched his legs toward the counter. Toward the man, he owed an apology.
Logan looked up and saw Colton. Without a word, he grabbed
the bags and drinks and headed to the door.
“Logan!”
The chatter in the restaurant almost drowned out the
name. But it didn’t.
Logan stopped.
Colton swallowed hard. His stomach turned into a fire
pit. “Talk to me.”
“I’ve got to get this back to the guys.” No eye contact.
“Please.”
Logan continued to the door, throwing back an answer, “Talk
fast.”
Colton followed, telling him about his dilemma. “A few of
the old-timers have gotten sick. Chuck passed away; you probably know that. I
was pressured into organizing it.”
Logan kept his poker face, listening to his brother’s
deep tone. He heard the plea inside.
“You know people who will volunteer. I can’t fail! It’s
been the town’s tradition for many moons.”
Logan reached the truck door and opened it, setting the bags
and drinks in the seat. He shut the door, turned, and eyed Colton. His deep
blue eyes were locked with brown ones. For a breath of time, there was silence.
Strong will butted with stronger will. Battles sometimes were silent.
“You have just as many friends as I do. You’re doing fine
without me.
Colton’s face fell. “I’ve
wanted to apologize, I just never got around to it!”
Logan shook his raven-haired head. “You know where I live,
and you’ve purposefully ignored the times I’ve been at Mom and Dad’s. I don’t
need your drama! And calling me names and barking orders gets old.”
Colton’s face fell even further. He swallowed hard. His
day grew darker. “If I could take the words back, I would. I can’t. I’m sorry!”
Shaking his head, Logan strode to the driver’s side of
the truck, hopping inside. “So, you can use me for your gain!”
Colton listened, his eyes downcast, shaking his head, and
chewing on his lower lip. “That’s not it!” When the truck fired up, he stepped
back.
His words were lost in the air as Logan drove away. With
a sagging posture and his arms hanging by his side, he went inside to get the papers
he left on the table. He realized he might never see Logan again.
Remembering the accusations about barking orders to
everyone stung. His intentions were never to come across as hateful. He wanted
things to get done. To work hard and achieve success.
Scratching his bearded jaw, he had to talk to his friends
about this. He wanted to know what others thought about him. About the
situation. Because he did not have a problem.
* * *
A week later, Logan set his lunch sack inside the refrigerator at the fish hatchery. Grabbing bottled water, he headed out to the waiting Cushman. Today he was moving the rainbow trout fry to a bigger raceway on the north side of the hatchery’s property.
A honk from the parking lot stopped him. Henry Wells
pulled in and cut the motor to his brown Dodge Durango. He jogged over to his
son, his unzipped jacket flapping in the cool morning air.
He took a couple of deep breaths before speaking. His
blue eyes were like the afternoon sky, a reflection of Logan’s eyes. “I wanted
to catch you before you got away!”
“What’s wrong? Is Mom okay?”
Henry’s face grew solemn. His mouth was a line of
wrinkles. “Your mother’s fine, but we need to talk. Will Herb mind if we take a
few minutes?”
“Let’s go ask him.” Logan led the way to the hatchery
office.
Inside, Herbert Walker, the hatchery manager, told them
to take all the time they needed.
Logan’s stomach did a flip. Something was wrong. His dad
never bothered him at work.
“Is Mom okay?”
“Like I said, she’s fine, but your brother is not.”
“What?” Logan ran his hand through his raven hair, and he
slumped into a padded chair. He tried to swallow the heaviness in his throat.
Henry Wells’ face mirrored that of Logan, except for lines
and wrinkles. His eyes held heaviness. Once-raven hair now peppered with gray,
was short in a well-kept style.
“This feud with your brother has gone on long enough.” His
voice was small, and quiet. “It’s time to make up and move forward.”
Logan’s face bunched in a frown. “Why are you telling me,
Dad? You should be talking to him!”
“I already have many times. Right after you two talked at
the restaurant, he went home and lost his temper with Kamyrn. I won’t go into
details, but we went over after Jennifer called and met at the dining table.”
“I’m not surprised!” Logan interrupted, choking back
harsh words he would rather not say in front of his dad.
“Jennifer also called Pastor Rick. Rick talked to Colton
about a helpline for anger and told him there are people eager to help. Colton
finally admitted he had a problem and allowed Rick to make the call. They got
him in right away! He’s been seeing a counselor and taking anger classes every
evening since. You know how they book appointments out so far in advance? To
get him in immediately, that’s divine intervention!”
He went on. “Just before we left, Colton had an episode
and Jennifer rushed him to the ER. We thought it was a heart attack, but it was
stress. Dr. Clark knows how driven Colton is, that he’s an overachiever. He said
if things don’t change one of these days, he would suffer for it.” Henry
stopped for a minute. A weak smile filled his lined face. “Logan, a lot was
accomplished that night.”
“Good. Colton has to change, Dad. He can’t keep treating
us like soldiers in boot camp!”
“I get it, Son, I really do.” Henry nodded. “And I know
it’s only been a few days, but he knows if it happens again, Jennifer will
leave. He understands he has a problem.”
Logan processed the conversation. No one changed overnight.
And especially Colton, the biggest drill sergeant of them all! He kept his
thoughts to himself.
The clock ticked like steps to the gallows as the silence
ensued.
“Colton’s got to learn his lesson! I feel bad for Jenn
and Kam, but I’m out of his life.”
“You’re wrong. He must apologize and you must accept and
forgive him. It’s the way. You know what forgiveness is.”
Logan’s head hung low, not far from the hatchery's tiled
floor. Inside, his gut burned.
“We’re tired of this feud tearing our family apart. Thanksgiving
won’t be a family get-together unless all of you kids are there.”’
“How many times will he get away with treating us like
this?”
“He doesn’t want to cause you more stress. I told him I’d
tell you what happened. And that’s not your brother copping out. He truly
doesn’t want to cause you more hurt.”
A little muscle creased Logan’s jawline. How could he take
a chance and see Colton? He imagined the scenario. If Colton got mad, he could
always leave. Gulping back bitter hurt, he didn’t want to push it.
Logan closed his eyes. Colton was a good man. A loving husband
to Jennifer. A caring father to Brett and Kamyrn. He missed the comradery they
once shared. The fishing trips. That’s where he got the scar above his right eye,
from a wayward fishing hook. He remembered the hunting excursions.
The turkey shoot! The. Turkey. Shoot.
Logan shot out of his chair, grabbing his dad’s arm.
“Dad, the turkey shoot! The last time I heard it might not happen. Did he get
help?”
Henry answered, “That’s another problem. Between work and
counseling, he’s not had time. It looks like the shoot will be limited to ten
turkeys at most.”
Logan’s eyes went wide as the cold blue November sky. He
choked back a rumble in his chest. The town’s big Thanksgiving turkey shoot was
dwindling away. “Ten! Why that’s not enough to even show up!”
Releasing his dad’s arm, he stepped back. His mind whirled
with thoughts. He would call his buddies for help. Today was Monday. There was
much to do to get the town’s Thanksgiving tradition back on track! And make one
last effort to forgive Colton.
“I’ve got to get to work, but I’ll call this evening.”
“Bring Deryck and come to supper.”
“We’ll be there.” Logan went to work.
* * *
Jennifer Wells answered the door that late afternoon. She ushered her brother-in-law to the den where Colton sat on the sienna-colored sectional.
Sipping on iced tea, Colton read the latest copy of Hunters Today magazine. His feet propped
on the low coffee table. A bowl of buttered popcorn set to the side.
“You have a visitor,” she announced, her voice sweet, low.
She flipped on the brass lamp. The room filled with a soft glow.
Hands buried in his pants’ pockets; Logan waited. He
didn’t want to stay long.
Colton set the tea glass on the side table. Drawing himself
up, he saw Logan. He cleared his throat. Dogearing the magazine page, he laid
it aside. Looking down at his feet, his eyes grew wide. Little brown reindeer
with red noses danced around Christmas-green socks. He quickly lowered his feet
to the carpet.
“Too late, I saw them.”
Colton frowned. “That’s my wife’s idea of getting into
the holiday spirit.”
Jennifer came back with a chuckle, “But they’re so
festive!”
Logan noticed that was enough to clear the air from what
he felt when he first stepped into the room. His shoulders relaxed as he sat
across from Colton.
“I’ll get you a glass of tea.” She disappeared from the
room.
Logan assessed his brother. Pushing away the anxiety that
threatened, he waited. He hoped that his father was right. To know Colton was
on his way to big changes.
“Dad told you what happened?” Colton asked.
Logan nodded. “He told me.”
Colton held up his right hand, then lowered it. He
cringed, cleared his throat twice, and rubbed his face that bunched into a frown.
Looking at Logan, he admitted, “I’m embarrassed.”
He fiddled with the white string of his gray sweatpants. “Pressuring
people, unloading my feelings on them. Being downright mean to everybody! I’ve
been brought to my knees. Pastor Rick is helping me find the way back to my
true self. Kind of like the lost sheep story, ya know?”
Logan listened. Faith and caution warred within. He
fought to keep cool and calm. After all that had happened, it was hard to be
here. Hard to look at him.
“My counselor suggested that I apologize to everyone I’ve
hurt. That took a few days.” Colton’s voice cracked. He covered it with a cough.
“I’ve apologized by either going to the person, making a phone call, or writing
it down, throwing the paper away. Except for you.”
Logan’s mouth went dry. He bowed his head. He struggled
to speak. Inside he wanted to shout at Colton. Accuse him. Belittle him. But he
controlled himself.
“But I was afraid to go see you. For one, you didn’t want
to see my face. And another, you probably thought I’d bite your head off. Dad
said he’d talk to you. I’m more than sorry. I’m guilty and ashamed.”
Colton looked heavenward. “God is helping me see that
anger is overpowering me.”
Logan saw peace covering his brother’s face. A peace that
he wanted, too. But peace came at a cost. Forgiveness. Faith. Hope. Without
forgiving, there would be no peace. No hope.
At that moment, Jennifer brought Logan the tea. She
smiled at both men, then added to the conversation. “Logan, all I ask is that
you try to believe Colton. He is sincere. He is changing. Believe. Please.”
Logan nodded. He took a long drink of the minty, sweet brew.
“The entire town
knows about my explosive behavior.” A low cry came from his lips.
Jennifer responded, laying a hand on her husband’s
shoulder. “Pastor Rick and Dr. Clark had strong words for him the other night.
He said it’s time to own the anger and stop treating people like he has. And, that
we all make mistakes, and say things out of anger.”
Colton swiped his eyes. “I’m learning that words are
powerful. And once we say them, we can’t take them back. I’m sorry for yelling at
you last year at mom and dads. And for all the times I might have tried to come
off as joking when I really meant what I said. Pastor and my counselor both hit
me hard on that one.”
Silence.
“I promise to respect and value you as my brother. I hope,
at least someday, you can forgive me. I’ve got a long way to go.”
Logan’s face grew warm, tears welling in his eyes. Oh
gee, was he going to cry? Well, it wouldn’t be the first time Colton had
witnessed his soft side. Leaning in, he answered. “I do want to believe you.
For your sake, I want you to stop trying to control everyone and everything.”
Colton let out a low chuckle, not the funny kind, the
nervous kind. The kind that said he had been found out. No more lying about the
way he treated people.
“You’re so right. Miss Pat laid it on the line. My repentance
is more than talk, it’s changed behavior. I thought I had to impress people. No
more.”
“Miss Pat?”
“Oh, she’s my counselor.”
At that moment, Logan made a choice. To believe in his
brother. His heart filled with hope. He needed to forgive Colton. Take one more
chance.
Logan stood. Holding out his hand, he said, “I do forgive
you. I believe you. And I’m happy that you’re getting help.”
Looking up, Colton cleared his throat. He stood and the
two met in a bear hug, each pummeling the other with soft fists.
Joy filled the room. Happiness surrounded each of them as
they said their goodbyes.
Logan stopped at
the doorway. “By the way, I’d like to have a pair of those reindeer socks.”
Colton’s laughter bounced off the walls.
Raising his hand, Logan said, “For Deryck.”
Jennifer assured him. “I’ll get a pair and you can pay me
back.”
As Logan closed the front door, he heard Colton’s
laughter. He knew God answered prayers. And now, he had a mission to do.
* * *
Saturday’s mid-morning weather was sunny and bright, but cold. It was the last weekend before Thanksgiving. The Rocky Corners Turkey Shoot activities sprung to life. Rows of long tables held local food, vegetables, and crafts. A small petting farm, filled with baby animals, occupied the south end where the 4-H building was located. Vehicles crowded the parking areas. People were ready to shop for the wares at the farmer’s market.
Workers, vendors, and volunteers busied themselves
preparing for the day’s event. Buttery, yeasty scents of homemade bread and popped
popcorn filled the air. Mixing in with the sweet smells of the harvested apples and
pears in bushel baskets. White garlic braids and onion bunches hung from poles
above the tables. They swung in the slight breeze.
Children of all ages ran about enjoying games of Football
Toss and Corn Hole. Cider and donuts along with samples of clover honey, jalapeno
jelly, and salty crackers filled bowls on Mrs. Ford’s table.
At the rodeo grounds across the way, tall poles held a
canvas sign announcing the 3k Town Turkey Trot. The startup began near the tables
and went around the rodeo arena twice, then on to the finish line.
Sponsored by the Springville Food Festival Foundation, men
and women worked at the booth, preparing for the race. Dollar donation jars sat
among brightly colored T-shirts. Comical-colored felt turkey headbands, hats,
and turkey costumes graced the tables. Food donation drop-off barrels stood
guard at the end.
Ed Martin used a bullhorn. “Hurry and sign up for the
Trot! It’s for a good cause! The Food Foundation’s Thanksgiving baskets! Runners
can compete to set a record or walk or trot! Or do the race, then stuff your
face!”
People cheered, gathering around the booth and admiring the
offerings. Faith Wells helped with the signups. “We have the kids Gobble Wobble
for the littles. It’s a half mile for ages three through ten.” Several families
bought turkey costumes or hats and placed them on their children for the
Wobble.
Logan arranged the bows, the guns, and the paper targets
at three back tables in the shooting shed. Deryck stood by his side, listening
to his dad. “Now remember, the squads can sign up for five rounds for a dollar
each. And make sure everyone is listening to the range officer.”
At that moment, Colton, Jennifer, and Kamyrn arrived.
Colton exclaimed, “I can’t believe this! Look what you’ve done!” He moved his
arm in a sweeping motion. “What you’ve done for Rocky Corners!” His voice was level. Sincere. Happy. He
fist-pumped the air.
Deryck’s smile grew almost as wide as his face. Little
brown freckles bunched up with his grin. “Dad, you’re the best!” He hugged
Logan tightly.
Logan ducked his head, a dark curl flopping downward. Jamming
his hands inside the pockets of his canvas coveralls. He resisted taking any
glory for it. He did the work for his town. For his brother. For the Lord, who
gave in abundance.
“I’m glad my friends had friends who knew friends. When
word got out about the turkey shoot dwindling down to nothing, Faith talked to
the school officials, and they got involved. Someone contacted the Springville
Turkey Trotters Association. From there it went wild.” Humbleness laced every
word.
Colton’s smile was as big as the harvest moon. His eyes
gleamed as he watched the hustle and bustle around them. Young folks sitting on
hay bales eating caramel apples. A high schooler hoisted little ones onto Shetland
ponies. Cheers rang through the air for the Turkey Trot racers. The Veterans
gathered with flags flying to have their turkey shoot.
Jennifer made her way to help at the cider and donut booth.
Kamryn kissed her dad’s cheek then ran off to help her teenage friends wrap
gifts at the holiday tables.
“I had a choice to make. Work on the shoot or go to counseling.”
Colton looked heavenward, and moved his lips in a silent “thank you.”
Loretta Wells touched her sons’ shoulders. “I’m helping with
the bake sale from church. After the cleanup, come tonight for chili.”
“Be there or be square.” Henry joked as he guided his
wife to the bake sale tent.
Loud metallic ringing peeled through the air. Sam Parsons’
young grandson pulled the rope of the old school bell hanging from the rafters
of the shooting shed. It was time for the Rocky Corners Turkey Shoot. While the
range officer announced the rules, people bought targets and got in line.
Mick Myers, the local reporter for the Rocky Corners News,
stepped close. An Eversharp tucked behind his ear, a paper pad in hand. A big
camera hung around his neck. “Looks like I’ve got some reportin’ to do!” He looked
around in all directions. “The town takes on a turkey trot and a turkey shoot.”
He laughed. “There’s the headline!”
Colton and Logan snickered, then moved on to help their
friends. Satisfaction and pride etched their faces. Their town was the
best.
The festivities and comradery proved that small-town communities
unite to take care of their own. In the seasons of change, they learn life’s
lessons and work through the ups and downs. In times of rocky challenges, there
is comfort right around the corner. With a little help from above.
The End
