Billy and Pancho

By Jon Paul Olivier

Hurricane Gustav roared through Houma, Louisiana, on the first day of September in 2008, leaving extensive damage and debris in its wake. People came from far and near to help with the cleanup that fall. Among those many were two men who forged an unlikely friendship. Billy was a tree cutter from Arkansas, Pancho a laborer from Honduras. Divided by language, they found their own way of communicating. Then a tragic accident left many questions unanswered. A journey of discovery began, stretching from Houma to a tiny village in Honduras. When the journey was over and the questions answered, lives were forever changed.
Inspired by two real people involved in the recovery effort, this fictional story of the strength of true friendship is as inspiring as it is entertaining.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jon Paul Olivier
• Release date: Aug 5, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301419302

Jon Paul Olivier

Jon Paul Olivier lives in south Louisiana with his wife and two children. He was blessed with opportunities to travel starting at a very young age. He has watched others struggling to fit in as well as been that person trying to fit in. Along the way, he has looked for the little details, the things in the background, that make stories real. In time, encouraged to write down the stories he told, he started writing tales inspired by his travels and by the people he met along the way. He is grateful that his family puts up with the hours he spends writing. Away from work and writing, he is an avid runner and enjoys mountain climbing. Connect with him online: Twitter: http://twitter.com/jonpaulolivier Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/jon.p.olivier

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Billy and Pancho

By Jon Paul Olivier

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 Jon Paul Olivier

Cover photograph Copyright 2013 by Jon Paul Olivier

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction, in whole or in part in any form. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental or used with permission.

Table of Contents

Preface

Acknowledgments

Dedication

Chapter 1 - New Man on the Crew

Chapter 2 - The Accident

Chapter 3 - Picking Up the Pieces

Chapter 4 - Arrangements

Chapter 5 - Memorial Service

Chapter 6 - San Sebastian

Chapter 7 - Saving A Dream

Afterword

About the Author

Excerpt from To Be Ordinary

Jon Paul Olivier also wrote To Be Ordinary and Locks of Her Hair, which are available at Smashwords.com.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Preface

In the days following Hurricane Gustav, during the recovery effort, two men from different backgrounds came together to work. When one sacrificed for the other, it set off a journey of discovery that changed lives.

Acknowledgments

This is a work of fiction inspired by a few real events and real people. In writing it, I received help from friends without whom I could not have completed the book.

I am grateful for the contributions by Linda and Hunt Downer, who lived through the Hurricane Katrina recovery in New Orleans, and Earl Eues who directed the Hurricane Gustav recovery in Houma. Juan Barahona helped me with the background in his native Honduras. Editorial assistance was provided by Karen Vice and Rhonda Bergeron who tirelessly read so many of my manuscripts before they’re ready for release. As always, proofreading was provided by Terry Steyaert. His skills keep me from many embarrassing mistakes.

Finally, I want to thank the real Billy and Pancho, and the rest of their crew. They worked on the hurricane recovery effort, and their ability to work together despite a language barrier inspired me to create this story.

I enjoyed working with all of you, and I thank you for the inspiration and assistance.

Dedication

So many people worked on the recovery effort following Hurricane Gustav. Volunteers and paid workers alike shouldered the burden to get life back to normal. I dedicate this book to those who, like Billy and Pancho, worked for months to help others get their lives back to normal.

Billy and Pancho

By Jon Paul Olivier

Chapter 1 - New Man on the Crew

As I thought about the young reporter’s question, I looked at the pictures on my desk. Two pictures, really. Only two. Billy and Pancho, an arm around each other and a chainsaw hanging from Pancho’s free hand, smiled out at me from the first picture. I wanted to smile back, but it wasn’t always as easy to smile anymore.

I think you’ve answered all my questions, the college student said. Thank you for your time.

I had agreed to let her interview me for her university newspaper. I never passed up a chance to help out a student.

I smiled just a little. Didn’t you forget a few things? When a look of confusion showed on her face, I prompted, When? Why?

It took her a moment to comprehend what I was referring to. Then embarrassment showed on her features. I keep forgetting that. Who, what, when, where, why and how. I’m new at this.

That’s okay. It’s why you’re doing it – to learn.

So when did all this happen?

I finished telling her the story. It wasn’t easy reliving it again, but truthfully the details were never far from my thoughts… and my dreams. I hadn’t told her the whole story, only the first part. That was what her newspaper would want to print. It was what happened after that mattered. What happened after is what changed my life, and the lives of a few others. Funny how death can teach you so much about life. After the interview was over and she had left, I sat alone in my office, staring at those two pictures.

Billy came to us from Arkansas. He’d been a tree cutter all his life – or so he claimed. I suspect he really did start cuttin’ trees (as he liked to say it) as soon as he was old enough to hold a chainsaw. He started off with his father and uncle, first as a helper doing odd jobs like running back to the truck to fetch a rope, or a saw, or a file. Maybe a can of gasoline. I smiled at the irony of that statement. Later he learned to cut, and that was his profession. It was in his blood. He always said he lived his life in trees and he knew he’d die in a tree one day.

He spoke with that redneck accent which always made me smile. He was rough and tough, and was on his third wife (and kept pictures of all three in his wallet). He would proudly show you the pictures if you asked, explaining about each one. The first one was young and pretty when he married her, but cancer took her away from him not too long after. The second one was the beautiful blonde. She was only able to put up with him for five years before she moved out. Number three was a redhead. From what he said, she was as tough as he was, and she was back home in Arkansas. He sent her a sizeable portion of his paycheck every two weeks. Whenever he could get a few days off from work, he went home to visit her.

Pancho was a different story. Pancho wasn’t even his real name. He was Antonio Hernandez, from a little village in southern Honduras. He worked in cattle country down there before he came to us. The owner of the company came to see me, to talk about Antonio and the others.

Charles, you speak Spanish, don’t you?

Yes, I do. I’m not great at it, but I can muddle my way through it.

Good, good. I have a new laborer for you to work with. I raised an eyebrow, waiting for his explanation. I got a line on a few laborers. They’re legal, he quickly reassured me. They have been working cattle, so they’re good with ropes. To get their green cards and bring them in, I guaranteed them at least five years work. I’m going to use them at the horse farm when work is slow, but I want to use them as helpers right now. They’re hard workers. Will you take one on?

If he’s a hard worker, dependable, then sure. I don’t have a problem with that.

Good, because he doesn’t speak any English.

That might be a problem for the rest of the crew. What about safety?

This guy is special. He’s bright, and he really pays attention. I don’t think the language barrier will be a problem.

What about the others?"

I’m going to place them on different crews. No one needs that many helpers right now. If it works out, I’ll try to work them together. One of the other guys speaks a little English.

Antonio came in to see me the next day. He looked about fifty years old, his hair graying slightly around the temples, and he was stocky.

Señor Jefe? he said gingerly as he stood in the door of my office, holding a dirty ball cap in both hands. His demeanor was respectful, and maybe even subservient.

I greeted him with a smile and motioned for him to sit down. I tried to explain in Spanish as carefully as I could the details of his job. We talked about how he would be paid, where he would live and the kind of work he would be doing. He was okay with all that. In fact, he seemed eager to work. If anything, he seemed uncomfortable because he was sitting down and not working.

Once we took care of all the necessary paperwork and fitted him with his safety gear, I drove him out to the job site. I have to admit that I admired him. He came a long way from home, to a land where he didn’t even speak the language, all for a job. I didn’t think I could do something like that. I was determined to give him as much help as I could. If he worked as hard as he paid attention to me, he was going to do fine and we would get an excellent worker in return. I wanted to help him.

The crew was trimming tree branches along a power line right-of-way. It was easy work, but they had to pay attention to safety. These men were good at what they did, and I wasn’t worried about safety. Troy, the foreman, was nothing if not obsessed with safety. As we got out of the truck, Troy walked over to see why I was there.

I introduced him to Antonio. Normally, I wouldn’t discuss an employee with his foreman in front of the man, but it became obvious in the short time I was with Antonio that he really didn’t speak any English. Not a single word. While I talked with Troy, Antonio stood there politely. He let his gaze drift up to where the crew was working, apparently trying to understand what they were doing and anxious to join them.

Troy was also a little concerned about Antonio’s lack of English skills. I assured him that I would stay on site until he was satisfied the Honduran understood what to do, and that he wasn’t a safety risk. I knew this meant I’d be out there a few days, but I didn’t mind. I liked getting out of the office when I could, and the weather at the time was perfect for being outdoors. I’d probably spend a little more time with this crew than the