Patch of Dirt

By Richard Lutman

"Patch of Dirt" introduces Joe Oliver, a womanizing thirty-year old drifter, who meets Frank Hill, sixty-five, a wounded Vietnam vet and his twenty-five year old wife Rita. Frank offers Joe a job, which he reluctantly accepts and is duped into becoming part of their plan to sire a child the impotent Frank is powerless to conceive.

Rita puts Joe through a series of tests to determine if he will be the right biological father for their child. Much to Frank's consternation Rita falls for Joe and jeopardizes their plan.  Joe finds himself conflicted about his feelings toward Rita.  His ambivalence leads up to the climactic decision he has to make.     

• Language: English
• Publisher: Richard Lutman
• Release date: Feb 26, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386872993

Richard Lutman

Richard Lutman has a MFA in Writing from Vermont College and is listed in the Directory of Poets and Writers. He has taught composition, writing and literature courses at Rhode Island Community College, The Learning Connection in Providence, Rhode Island, Fairfield University, and short story classes as part of Coastal Carolina's University's Lifelong Learning Program.  ​He has won awards for his short stories, nonfiction, and screenplays. He was a 2008 Push Cart nominee in fiction.  His novella "Iron Butterfly” set in Hong Kong was shortlisted in the 2011 Santa Fe Writers Project competition. His first novel was published in 2016. A collection of his stories is due in Spring of 2019

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PATCH OF DIRT

A Western

––––––––

Richard Lutman

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Copyright ©2016 by Richard Lutman

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or part in any form. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher, except by  a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

Cover Artwork courtesy of: Alan Poulson/Dreamstime.com Author photo courtesy of Linda Cookingham

ISBN:

To Michele Cooper

ONE

Half a dozen men and women sized up Joe Oliver as he entered the Top Hat Lounge, and then returned to their drinks and conversation. To them he was just another battered and weather-beaten, thirtyish cowboy down on his luck, his rangy six-foot two frame hardened from years of ranch work. His frayed gray cowboy hat was pulled down over his eyes. His stomach tightened and he clenched his teeth. Someday he’d walk into a place like this and show them he was someone to be reckoned with, a man with his own patch of dirt and enough land to raise a small herd of cattle, maybe some wheat, and a future.

He pulled a crumpled twenty dollar bill from his pocket, the last of the five twenties he’d stuffed there. He needed to get drunk and find a woman. He’d worry about tomorrow when it came. If he was careful with his money he’d have enough to last until the next job came along.

The linoleum on the floor was cracked and faded. The light above the restrooms flickered. Fake red naugahyde booths lined the walls. Behind the bar were beer signs and pennants. A bowling machine glowed from a corner. Bars like this never changed nor did the people in them. His smile was lifeless as he surveyed the rest of the room.

A stylish redhead, wearing tight black jeans and a silver satin shirt, sat at the bar. She had somber, deep-set eyes and full lips. With her hair pulled back and her long neck showing she looked just like a movie actress. She smiled half-heartedly at what the man next to her said, but her steady gaze was on Joe.

Joe guessed the guy she was with didn't care about her. He kept ordering drinks and talking to everyone around him. He’d seen his type before, too clean-shaven, wearing four-hundred-dollar boots and flashy rings on his fingers. The crown of his hat was circled with a decorated silver band. His arm was draped around a blonde, but he kept looking at the auburn-haired girl at the other end of the bar. He tossed more bills at the bartender.

Another night alone was something Joe wasn’t looking forward to. He hadn’t shaved and didn’t care. He’d look worse in the morning and smell the sweat, stale beer, and cigarette smoke on his clothes, the familiar smells of another wasted night. The redhead winked at him as he approached.

He ordered two beers and set one down in front of her. Her large blue eyes held him for a brief moment, and made him feel as if he’d known her forever, something he’d never experienced before from a woman in a place like the Top Hat.

I’m Anna. If you call me Red, I’ll bop you.

Well, Red, my name’s Joe Oliver. He smiled and gave her an exaggerated bow. You can call me anything you want.

Wise guy. She hit him playfully on his shoulder. Haven’t seen you around.

I was working at the Triple S. Didn’t have much time to go anywhere.

Not the kind of life for me.

I don’t know how to do anything else.

He didn’t like to be judged. For a moment he wanted to shrug her off and find another bar.

There has to be more than working yourself to death for low pay, she said. Then come into a place like this night after night to drink your troubles away, find a girl and get laid.

The words hurt, but her eyes held no judgment.

I want to see the world, she said. Don’t you?

Maybe someday.

He’d never been further east than Bismarck, or further west than Boise. His world was the ranches and plains, the smell of sage, the sweet taste of a soft spring wind, the warm breath of a Chinook, and the early morning silence of the prairie that reminded him of church.

Let’s get out of here, she said.

She tapped the shoulder of the guy next to her. He turned and stared at her with glassy eyes.

We’re going to the moon, she said. Want to come?

Later, he said, and turned his attention back to the blonde.

Joe wondered why she was here with a guy like him. He felt a momentary sympathy for her, something he wasn’t used to. Perhaps it was her eyes. He had little time for such emotions. His father told him never to get too close to anyone, because once you did, you’d lose a part of yourself trying to be someone you weren’t. Tonight he didn’t care. He’d worry about his father’s words later.

Joe had never been with a girl that made him forget himself. There had been a waitress in the last town named Traci who was pretty enough, but she had wanted to settle down.

Joe said playfully. The moon?  My truck’s all gassed up and ready to go, Red.

What did I tell you about calling me Red? I couldn’t resist. His eyes twinkled

No more. Understand? –or you’ll end up spending the night alone, she said through a tight-lipped smile.

Her jaw tightened and her eyes flashed hard for a moment. A chill ran down his spine. He nodded and started for the door.

Wire and duct tape held his truck together. She shook her head and frowned.

You sure this thing is safe? It gets me where I want to go.

I’ve seen better in junk yards.

She pulled on the door then pulled it again. It opened with a loud grating sound and she climbed in.

Joe took his seat behind the wheel, slammed the door shut, and started the engine. The truck moved slowly down the street.

The Paradise is a couple of miles west of town. Can’t miss it.

Been there before?

Last time I was there the place got torn up pretty good. She glanced at him. There was a fight over a girl. Some guy got stabbed.

That happens.

You look like you’ve been in a fight or two yourself. Joe nodded. Did you win?"

Sometimes. Although the next night we’d be friends again and buy each other a beer. You been living here long?

Too long, she said with a sigh. I work at the bottling plant. I’m trying to save enough money so I can get a bigger place. I’m a dancer, cursed with a flexible body and a long neck. I’ve been in a couple of small musical productions already. I’m tired of practicing in the narrow hallway outside my apartment.

I’ll bet you’re good, he said, meaning it. She smiled. What about you?

I might hang around for a while.

I’d like that. She touched his arm.

The truck sputtered and glided to a stop on the side of the road.

Now what? She sounded irritated.

It will be all right in a while, said Joe with a shrug. We’ll have to hitch.

Just great, she said sardonically. I thought my hitching days were behind me.

Her face grew hard, and for a moment he felt unsure of what to say. He pulled the keys out of the ignition. They climbed out and stood on the shoulder of the road. A cold rain began to fall.

Why did I let you talk me into going with you? she said.

It was your idea.

You didn’t have to say yes.

It was hard to turn you down.

She shook her head, a half-smile on her lips. Hey– he said.

What?

Wave it down.  Wave it down.

She leaped onto the road and waved her arms. A car shot by. She laughed.

What's so funny?

You, your fucking truck, and now the rain, she said. At least it’s not snowing, besides, I like being with you.

Bullshit.

She held her head up against the rain. The drops ran down her face like a silver lacquer. She licked them from her lips then shook herself.

Another car. The rain. Silence. The outlines of wiry trees. Perhaps he should have just bought her a drink and left. It was too late now. The prairie and Anna at rest on his arm as if that was where she was meant to be. He’d let the night play out.

A battered red pickup slowed then stopped. Joe and Anna ran towards it. The door opened. They paused as the driver stared at them. He was a young man with brown eyes and the wisp of a moustache.

You gettin’ in? he said in a raspy voice.

Joe helped Anna onto the front seat, then he climbed in next to her and pulled the door shut.

Whiskey? asked the young man. He pulled a pint from his jacket pocket and gave it to Anna. She took a long drink and passed it to Joe. He took a longer drink and handed it back to the young man.

Nothin’ like a drink of whiskey for what ails you, said the young man. Where you headed?

The Paradise, she said.

Good a place as any. You two married? Anna poked Joe in the ribs with her elbow.

You’re a fine lookin’ woman, said the young man. He gave her a quick smile. Anna blushed. Joe’s jaw tightened. "And he’s not too bad lookin’ himself.

I’m getting married myself in a couple of months. Kinda have to. She’s seventeen, but it wouldn’t have made any difference. I’m plannin’ on goin’ to trade school to be an auto mechanic. Like to open a shop of my own.

I wish you luck, said Anna.

Here we are, said Joe.

The young man eased the truck to a stop. Joe and Anna thanked him and started for the Paradise in the middle of the block.

The streets are like a room full of mirrors, said Anna. You never know what’s real and what isn’t. By the time you’ve figured it out, it’s too late and time to move on. She sounded sad. He reached for her hand, then bent his head towards her lips for a kiss. She pulled away.

They stood for a moment in the entrance then stepped into the bar.

Still rainin’? asked the bartender.

Yeah, said Joe.

Bad weather to be caught in.

His fucking truck broke down, she said.

What’ll you have?

Couple of shots of whiskey, said Joe. Make them doubles. The bartender nodded, grabbed the nearest bottle, filled their glasses and set them down.

Anna drank hers in a swallow. Joe laughed and followed.

That guy seemed pretty happy about getting married. Anna stared Joe down. Don’t you want to share the rest of your life with someone?

I like my life the way it is. He said with a frown.

Anna leaned against the bar. He reached over and stroked her hair. Still damp from the rain it felt like silk. He smelled the faint odor of shampoo on his fingers.

Don’t be so quick to think you understand marriage.

Joe stared at his empty glass. His parent’s marriage had been nothing but arguments and fights. What else had there been to understand? On the dance floor an elderly couple shuffled to the music from the jukebox.

I was named after a river, she said somberly. The North Anna. I used to go there and watch the moon caught in my hands. When the current was slow, the warm brown water seemed to be standing still. It was my secret place.

I wasn't named for anything.

Everyone has to be named for something.

Then I guess I lost out. The muscles of his face tightened.

Let's dry off, get drunk, fuck and forget about it. That’s what you want to do, isn’t it?  Fuck me? Then you can get on with your life.

He felt both excited and intimidated by her honesty. What would she look like in the morning?

Anna stood naked by the window of her apartment and stared at the railroad tracks down the block. The scent of the canned ravioli they’d eaten the day before mixed with her stale perfume. Where she would put the perfume today: behind her ears, her knees, between her breasts, on the back of her wrists or on the inside of her thighs? She intrigued him, and he was finding it hard to leave.

The closet door was open. Her clothes hung neatly. She had good taste. Earth colored skirts and pale yellow and white blouses.

Most of them would have left by now. You’re different from the others. She turned towards him. Her face was soft with the diffuse rain light from the window.

Maybe I don’t want to leave.

What if I asked you? she said in a serious voice.

How many others have you asked?

She shrugged. They knew when it was time.

His feelings for her had thrown him off guard in a way he had never experienced. He thought of how they fit together, as if that was the way it was meant to be. She began to sing softly.

"Joe was a wandering ole cowboy

Who broke a heart or two

But he fell in love with Anna

With hair of red and eyes of blue"

Hey, cowpoke, she said. Why does it have to rain?

Don't call me cowpoke.

I'll call you whatever I want –Cowpoke. Cowpoke. Cowpoke. Her voice in sing song, then paused.

"Women can be real bitches when they want to be. Believe me, I’m no exception.

I hate it when it rains. I wish I could go someplace they never heard of rain. First Fargo with ice and snow and now here. I can't seem to win, always the hard luck and the hard weather and the losers like you.

Her words cut him and he tried to smile. I’m not a loser.

Then what are you?

Just some guy in a room with a girl. His eyes were defiant.

She laughed and reached for the bottle of whiskey, which she held to her lips. You men—all the good fucking in the world and you blow it by not knowing what to say. And now we’re out of whiskey. Five days had passed and he was still with Anna, longer than he usually stayed with someone before he moved on. He knew he liked being with her and for the moment wanted to enjoy it.

A truck stopped below her apartment and a door slammed. Joe rose from his chair where he’d been thumbing through a magazine, saw her get out of a truck, then lean back in the window to speak to the driver. She waved at the pickup as it disappeared around the corner. Joe pulled back from the window when he heard her footsteps and the door opened.

She kicked her shoes off.

How was work?

I need a drink.

Who was the guy in the pickup?

Someone from work.

Who?

A guy.

What guy?

Just a guy.

Joe clenched his fist. You fuck him?

Are you going to hit me if I did? Her gaze raked him with freezing contempt.

She was right. He wanted to hit her. His chest tightened. He didn’t want to be like his father. Not with Anna.

There are times when I wish I didn’t know you, his voice had a cold edge to it.

Please don’t say that. She said with an unexpected note of desperation.

What do you want me to say?

You can be a real prick, she said.

He slammed the apartment door shut and hurried for the nearest bar.

The black-haired girl cut a path through the gawking patrons of the L’il Bear. Her short fringed denim skirt came to just above her knees. A cheap shiny red blouse and white boots completed her outfit. She was just what he needed to keep his mind off Anna. One or two men nodded at her. Amused by her entrance, he gave her his best smile. She winked at him, settled on the stool next to him showing off her legs.

I’m Joe, he said.

Good for you. I’m Natalie. She fussed with her hair while she studied him with catty eyes.

Joe signaled the bartender for two whiskeys. He took out his wallet and opened it. Her eyes followed the twenty as it floated to the floor. He reached down to pick it up. She re-crossed her legs like he knew she would.

You from around here? she asked.

Everywhere and nowhere. He smiled at the corny line he’d used many times before.

I wish I could say that, she said, feigning an interest he knew was part of the game they were playing. The folks around here are pretty pathetic.

Why don’t you leave?

She laughed. Maybe I will someday. And maybe you’re the guy I’ll do it with. How about it?

You’re real pretty and I like your ass. The words sounded hollow.

Why was he doing this?  Anna didn’t deserve it. He had to stop. She hopped off her stool, gave the bartender a thumb’s up, took Joe’s arm and led him up a flight of stairs at the back of the bar. He followed her down a dim corridor, past a succession of rooms.   She stopped in front of a door with the number eight stenciled on it. She stepped inside and turned on the light. The room made him cringe. It smelled of soiled sheets and sweat. She poured out two glasses of whiskey from the bottle on a table and downed hers in a swallow.

Twenty-five, she said as she undressed. Usually it’s thirty, but I like you.

His insides churned. He took a five dollar bill from his wallet and tossed it at her. The whiskey bottle shattered against the door as he closed it behind him.

Minutes later he stood on the sidewalk and took a deep breath. He felt drained. A pickup roared by, radio blaring. Down the street, the ragged neon sign from another bar sputtered.

He opened the door onto a rancid smelling room. The only two patrons in the place sat at the bar nursing their drinks in silence. This was just the place he needed to drink until closing time.

The lights were off in Anna’s apartment. Joe staggered up the stairs, leaning several times against the wall to keep from falling down. He tried the door. It