Just Beyond the Curve

By Larry Huddleston

John Travis had been as innocent as a lamb before he found out his father had been a Country Western music star that had ranked right up there with the greatest of all time before he was killed in a horrific car crash, leaving his wife and infant son alone in the world.
As far as 20 year old John Travis, Jr. knew, he had no musical talent, in fact, he’d never even been real smart, but he believed someone could teach him and he could learn. He just had to find the right person. Then, he finds the love of his life and success, but also makes a very deadly enemy along the way, who thinks nothing of killing those who anger or mistreat him. John Travis Jr. Entertainer of the Year nominee unfortunately fell into that category.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Larry Huddleston
• Release date: Apr 3, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458077967

Larry Huddleston

In 1991, Larry E. Huddleston, along with a close relative, was charged and convicted of numerous counts of bank robbery, armed bank robbery and use of a dangerous weapon during the commission of a crime of violence. He was sentenced to 292 months for the bank robberies, 60 months consecutive for the weapon and 60 months supervised release. In total, he must serve 291⁄2 years before he is eligible for release in 2017. From January 1992 until March 2006, he served his sentence at the United States Penitentiary at Leavenworth, Kansas. He saw it turn from a maximum security prison to a “maximum security housing medium security inmates”. After 18 months at Leavenworth as a medium security inmate, he was transferred to FCI Texarkana, a “low security” facility. While incarcerated, Larry became interested in writing and has since written 29 completed movie ‘spec-scripts’ and twelve completed novels of several genres, from western to sci-fi, romance to war, comedy to horror. Look for Larry’s current and upcoming books at MidnightExpressBooks.com

Book preview

JUST BEYOND THE CURVE

LARRY E. HUDDLESTON

JUST BEYOND THE CURVE

Copyright © 2009 by LARRY E. HUDDLESTON

Smashwords Edition

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All characters are totally from the imagination of the author and depict no persons, living or dead; any similarity is totally coincidental.

Cover Layout & text design:

Midnight Express Books

POBox 69

Berryville AR 72616

CHAPTER ONE

In reality there are very few people in the world who do not long for fame and fortune. Many believe that given a chance they could make a difference. Most would fail miserably for any number of reasons. But there are exceptions, too.

John Edward Travis was twenty-five, tall, dark and handsome and had a personality that made everyone he met love him. He was outgoing and generous. He was married to a beautiful girl name Donna Sue and he had a son named after himself that he adored.

John was on his way to the top of the country music charts for the third time and his name was becoming a household word that ranked up there with Johnny Cash, Merle Haggard, Conway Twitty, Bill Monroe, and the list went on. His concerts were always sold out and he always stayed to mingle with the crowd and sign autographs. He never allowed himself to become estranged from those who had put him at the top. And for that reason his untimely death jerked the heart from his millions of fans. In fact, the whole nation, and many foreign countries, was in mourning for John Edward Travis, dead at the young age of twenty-five, leaving a wife, son and legend, much like the great Hank Williams, Sr.

In January 1985 Austin, Texas was well on its way to becoming the new Nashville of country western music. Many famous musicians, from Towns Van Zant to Willie Nelson, Waylon Jennings to Chris Christopherson had recorded their music there and helped to put Austin on the map as a booming music mecca, much like Branson, Missouri.

On that fateful night in August 1985 John Travis and the Travelers were in the recording studio putting the finishing touches on the last song of their third album. They were looking forward to a few weeks off before beginning the tour to promote the album and the chance to mingle with their millions of fans across the nation and around the world.

The band had arrived early and were in the process of tuning and warming up when John arrived from his home in Wimberley, Texas, thirty, or so, miles to the southwest of Austin, and perhaps twenty miles northwest of San Marcos. John and Donna had been raised around Wimberley and considered it their home, regardless of the money they were making. They liked the rural living the desert-like country offered.

When John entered the recording studio with his guitar case that housed a 1964 Fender Stratocaster which he had inherited from his father, he was met with cheers, whistles and catcalls from the band.

Cotton Stubbs, the rhythm guitarist, stepped to the microphone and sang mournfully, Hurry up John, it just ain’t the same, without your singin’ and a’ pickin them straaaaangs! His comment was met with good cheer and laughter from everyone, including John, who laughed and bowed to the band. He then got on his knees in supplication to them.

I wanna thank you boys, he said prayerfully, barely containing his laughter, for makin’ me the most famous and richest of this bunch! And, I might add, by far, the most talented and handsomest, and sought after, and chased, by wicked women, and... Unable to contain his humor any longer he burst out laughing. He was joined by the rest of the band and the fiddle player, Ernie Bottoms, who had begun playing a sad, dreary accompaniment to John’s recital of all his superior endowments.

When the laughter died down the band broke into a fast, happy tune that changed the whole mood of the studio. John leaned over and unbuckled his guitar case. He was just opening the lid when the phone began to ring in the mixing room. The mixing engineer, Tom Franklin, reached forward and flipped a switch on the console and then spoke into the microphone.

John, there’s a problem at home. You’re needed there, now! the elderly man said seriously.

John gently laid the Strat back into the case and closed the lid, buckled it, picked the case up and headed for the door. I’m goin’ to Wimberley, boys, he said, opening the door. Tom, did they say if it was Momma, Donna, or John Junior?

It’s your momma, John, Tom replied, sadly. You drive safe and hurry back, now. And watch those curves out there; you never know what’s waiting just around ‘em.

I will, John replied with a smile. I ain’t tryin’ to die young, he added waving over his shoulder and closing the door behind him.

By the time he reached his pickup and swung the case up and over into the bed, he could faintly hear the band resuming their practice. He got in and drove carefully from the parking lot.

*****

Jesse Cameron had driven the big rigs since before John Travis had been born. He had driven them all, from Diamond Rios to Mac, to Harmon. He had even driven Citroen and Mercedes when he was in the military. He was intimately familiar with the brand new Peterbilt he was now piloting coast to coast. He had stopped in Austin to refuel and eat his supper. He was hauling a load of gasoline for Texaco to Twin Sisters and Kerville. He had decided to drive down 1-35 then cut across through San Marcos and over to Twin Sisters, then on to Kerville. He foresaw no problems. He had driven the route before, at least once a month for the past several years. He knew all the curves and highways.

As he rolled slightly under the speed limit for big rigs at night he listened to his favorite country singer ever, John Travis. Boy, he thought, that ol’ boy can lay it down! Make a grown man cry for all his lost loves and heartbreaks. Jesse sang along with the song and tapped his fingers on the big steering wheel.

Twenty miles or so behind him his favorite singer in all the world sped up the on-ramp and onto 1-35 South. John sped up to near sixty-five, the legal speed limit: and settled in for the long, but fast ride. He had decided to take the expressway down to San Marcos, then cut over on Ranch Road 12 to Wimberley. That would take him right past his house once he got through Wimberley.

Jesse Cameron exited the freeway in San Marcos and made his way over to Ranch Road 12. He made the light and began going through the gears, building speed and making time, listening to John Travis sing.

Ten minutes later Jesse began to slow down for the Wimberley turn off. In San Marcos John flipped his right hand turn signal on and eased down the exit ramp. He made the light and sped up to the speed limit.

As the trailer swung around the Wimberley turnoff and Jesse began to build speed a seal ruptured at the side of the tanker and gasoline began to spray from the tank and back onto the left rear tires. Jesse was singing along with another of John Travis’ songs and didn’t notice the seal had blown, or that he was losing his lode.

On Ranch Road 12 John Travis slowed for the Wimberley turnoff. His right hand turn signal came on flashing brightly and he swung around the curve and headed for Wimberley. He reminded himself of the dangerous right hand curve up ahead. To the left was a wide deep valley. In the bottom were two mounds of dirt like extinct volcanoes. John had always figured it was a couple of hundred feet to the bottom and he didn’t figure the guard rail would stop a car going the speed limit if one should happened to hit it. He had no idea he was about to find out.

Up ahead as Jesse began to turn into the curve, the fuel in the tanker began to bulge to the left with the centrifugal force as it leaned farther into the curve. Halfway through the curve where the total weight of the trailer and cargo was at its greatest, the fuel slick rear tires lost their grip and the tanker began to slide around toward the railing and the deep valley below.

Jesse immediately felt the trailer slip and began to make efforts to regain control. Then he knew it was a losing battle and just tried to keep the trailer from overturning and rolling into the valley and taking him with it.

John came around into the curve and instantly saw the big tanker sliding broadside across the highway. He hit his brakes. He began to slide sideways and he made the correct maneuver to regain control. However, all four of his tires were coated with the spilled fuel and the pickup actually began to pick up speed and spin in a complete 360° turn, as it neared the guard rail and the back of the sliding tanker.

Then, as if in slow motion, the right front fender of John’s pickup slammed into the right rear corner of the broadside trailer. The impact with the trailer and the speed, nearly 80 miles per hour, lifted the pickup up and launched it into the air and over the rail. The pickup made another 360°, plus another 180° roll, dropping the guitar case from the bed. It landed hard and slid down the steep hillside. The nose down pickup slammed into the ground, spun around several times on its nose, slammed onto the earth and rolled six more times before exploding in a ball of flame.

Jesse sat in the cab of his Peterbilt and watched every move the pickup made. Then he opened the door and puked his guts up, knowing he had just caused the death of another human being. When he regained his composure he began to cry. Finally, he turned to the CB radio and called for assistance, through his agony.

Jesse would never know but John had felt nothing after the impact against the trailer. His head had slammed into the door post and knocked him unconscious. Jesse would also never know that a light ball of mist had flown from the crashed and burning pickup and drifted against the wind and to the northwest; the direction of John’s wife and son. Some may speculate that it was John’s spirit, others that it was just an illusion, a play of the fire light on the night. Maybe even just an anomaly, a playful zephyr of wind that carried a light mist of smoke up the hill, across the guitar case, where a tendril slipped inside and the rest moved on to the northwest and John’s house.

In the master bedroom of John’s house a light mist gathered over the baby’s crib. John Jr. greedily sucked his thumb and slept the sleep of the truly innocent.

In the big bed Donna also slept soundly, unaware of the mist that floated above her. She smiled and whispered John’s name sadly, questioningly.

The mist moved back to baby John’s crib and as it neared him, his eyes opened and he smiled and laughed. The faint blue mist entered into his mouth and nose and he breathed it in and then drifted back to sleep. Suddenly, Donna sat up in bed and screamed, John!

The truly sad part of the whole affair was that with his death his music began to quickly fade. For the most part because when his fans thought of him they also recalled the horrendous accident that had taken him from them. Donna, after learning of John’s death the following morning was never the same mentally. John had been her entire reason for living up until baby John had been born. It was only then she discovered she only had enough love for one of them; that turned out to be her first love, John Sr. She became a mysterious recluse who managed to eek out a living on the royalties from John’s music. In time, as baby John grew and began to greatly resemble his father Donna began to slowly transfer her love to him. However, even then he was never allowed in her bedroom. For that was where the treasure was kept. All of John Sr.’s memorabilia was kept there, safe and sound and only for her pleasure.

John Jr. however, was never all that bright and Donna kept him from the public schools as much as possible. But even that didn’t keep him from learning. Somehow he managed to read, write and do his sums. Then, nearly twenty years to the day, later, Donna Sue Jacobs-Travis joined the love of her life and left her only child alone and for the most part, broke.

Luckily, by then, John had managed to graduate from San Marcos High School, a C average student, and had taken employment with a man named Paul Holmstead at his small grocery store on the outskirts of western San Marcos.

Nearly a month after John buried his mother beside his father; Paul called him into his office and gave him the bad news. He was going to have to let John go. Business was slow and he just couldn’t afford to keep John on the payroll any longer. John never questioned it. He thanked Paul for the job he had had, then pulled his ball cap down low on his ears, stuffed his wages in his pocket, then turned and walked from the store and onto the street. He stood silently and looked left and right. With his fingers stuffed in his pockets, he walked across town to highway 80 east, then walked another