The Highway Kind(8)

As he walked to the front door, he smiled at Marissa but he knew it was false bravado. She looked scared and she’d moved behind the couch, as if it would protect her.

He pulled on one of the old man’s barn coats that hung from a bent horseshoe near the front door. It smelled like him: stale cigarette smoke, gasoline fumes, cows. The presence of the old man in that coat nearly caused Brandon to tear it off. He shoved aside the impulse and opened the door.

Three—no, four people were piling out of a dented white Jeep Cherokee with County 23 plates. So they were local after all, he thought.

The driver, who was standing outside his door waiting for the others, was tall, wiry, and bent over. He looked to be in his seventies and he wore a wide-brimmed cowboy hat and pointed black boots. He saw Brandon and grinned as if they were old friends.

An obese woman grunted from the backseat as she used both hands on the door frame to pull herself out. For a moment her feet stuck straight out of the Cherokee while she rocked back and threw her bulk forward to get out of the car. She had tight orange-yellow curls and wore a massive print dress that looked to be the size of a tent.

Two younger men about Brandon’s age joined the wiry older one while they waited for the fat woman. One of the younger men had a shaved head, a full beard, and tattoos that crawled out of his collar up his neck. The second man looked like a local ranch hand: jeans, boots, Carhartt coat, battered and greasy KING ROPES cap.

Brandon stepped out on the porch and closed the door behind him. He could feel Marissa’s eyes on his back through the curtains.

He said, “What can I help you folks with? There’s no need for all of you to get out.”

The wiry man continued to grin. He said, “You might not remember me, Brandon, but I sure as hell remember you. How you doing, boy?”

Brandon frowned. There was something familiar about the man but whatever it was was inaccessible to him at the moment. So many of his memories had been locked away years before.

“Do I know you?”

“Dwayne Pingston. I remember you when you were yay high,” he said, holding his hand palm-down just below his belt buckle. “I don’t blame you for not remembering me from those days, but I was close to your old man.”

Brandon nodded. Dwayne Pingston.

The Dwayne Pingston who Brandon had discovered butchering a deer out of season in the garage. The Dwayne Pingston who’d lifted Brandon off his feet and hung him by his belt from a nail while he finished deboning the animal.

“This is my lovely wife, Peggy,” Pingston said, nodding the brim of his hat to her as she struggled to her feet next to the car and smoothed out her dress.

“My son, Tater,” he said and the man in the jeans and ball cap looked up.

“And my buddy Wade,” he said, not looking over at the bald man.

“Nice to meet you all,” Brandon said. “Now, what can I do for you?”

“I guess you could say I’m here to collect a debt,” Pingston said.

Brandon tilted his head. “A debt? You know the old man passed a couple of weeks ago, right?”

“Oh, I heard,” Pingston said. “They wouldn’t let me out to attend the service, though.”

“What kind of debt?” Brandon asked. “I’m officially going through his books now and he didn’t leave much of anything.”

“Tell you what,” Pingston said, moving over to Peggy and sliding his arm around her. “Why don’t you invite us inside so we can discuss it? If you haven’t noticed, it’s snowing right now and it’s getting colder by the minute. I nearly forgot how much I didn’t miss Big Piney until I stepped outside this morning and the hairs in my nose froze up.”

Pingston started to lead Peggy toward the front steps and the two other men fell behind them.

“Hold it,” Brandon said. “My wife’s inside and we really weren’t planning on any company. She’s expecting our first baby and now isn’t a good time. How about we discuss whatever it is you want to talk about tomorrow in town?”

“I wanted to talk about it with you today,” Pingston said, still smiling, still guiding Peggy toward the porch, “but when I called they said the phone was disconnected. So we had to come out in person. I didn’t realize Peggy’s Jeep had a headlight out. Those are the kinds of maintenance things I used to take care of before they sent me away.”

Sent me away, Brandon repeated to himself in his head. They wouldn’t let me out to attend the service.

“Really,” he said. “You folks need to get back in your car and we’ll meet tomorrow. How about breakfast or something?”

“Won’t work,” Pingston said, withdrawing his smile. “I got to hit the road first thing in the morning. I’m only here for the night.”

“That’s not my problem,” Brandon said. “Look, there’s going to be a legal process in regard to everything my dad left behind. You need to contact his lawyer about your debt—not me.”

Pingston shook his head. “Brandon, you’re the one I want to see. We don’t need no lawyers in this.”

Wade with the shaved head stepped out from in back of Pingston. “Open the door,” he said. “Let’s get this over with.”

His glare sent a chill through Brandon that had nothing to do with the temperature outside. Wade was tall and solid and the bulk of his coat couldn’t hide his massive shoulders.