Fancy Flats

By Kenn J. Johnson

It could be any small Midwestern town. This one was nearly geographically mid-America-San Diego was near fifteen hundred miles west and New York slightly over fifteen hundred miles east, but it had nothing in common with one or the other.
Fancy Flats had little in common with the rest of the world, nor was it fancy, but flat it was. A sweep of the horizon with ones eye proved that. The bucolic small town surrounded by ranches was a welcome sight to those motorists who traveled east to west, and west to east, but that was before Interstate 80 was built.
Now it was simply white letters on a green background, completely out of sight of the motorist. Even the seams in the concrete of the Fancy Flats exit ramp had been able to grow vegetation. Yes, Fancy Flats, like many other small cities and villages, at first appeared to be dying on the vine; but there was one difference between Fancy Flats and the others: its inhabitantsblood of pioneers and Native Americans flowed through their veins. It could be seen in their work ethics, their stick-to-it till the job is done, their honesty, and their humor. Yes, they were of hardy stock. Their ancestors had weathered hard times, depression, and a drought. In doing so, they had learned the value of a dollar, how to get the most out of it, and subsequently, keep more of them for another day. The people of Fancy Flats had managed over the years to keep their share, perhaps a bit more.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Dec 17, 2008
• ISBN: 9781465333254

Kenn J. Johnson

Half an Orphan is the author’s second offering. His first, Last Man Club was published in 2003 and is available though Trafford Publishing. Last Man Club contains 391 pages that describe life as it was for a family in a small town with World War II as a backdrop. The characters are diverse, colorful and plain, complex and translucent. Mr. Johnson weaves their lives together. Depending upon your age it offers a glimpse into the lives of your parents, or grandparents, or a glimpse into life in the era of America at it’s greatest. This second offering is of the same era, compacting nearly thirty years of the lives of two orphans to produce half an orphan.

Book preview

Copyright © 2008 by kenn j. johnson.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in

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recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission

in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the

product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance

to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.\

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Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

The Rest of the Story

Dedicated to all the girls I’ve loved before.

Both of them.

Thank you to

Kathryn E. Snyder, cover art;

Judith A. Johnson, data entry.

Chapter One

It could be any small Midwestern town. This one was nearly geographically mid-America-San Diego was near fifteen hundred miles west and New York slightly over fifteen hundred miles east, but it had nothing in common with one or the other.

Fancy Flats had little in common with the rest of the world, nor was it fancy, but flat it was. A sweep of the horizon with one’s eye proved that. The bucolic small town surrounded by ranches was a welcome sight to those motorists who traveled east to west, and west to east, but that was before Interstate 80 was built. Now it was simply white letters on a green background, completely out of sight of the motorist. Even the seams in the concrete of the Fancy Flats exit ramp had been able to grow vegetation. Yes, Fancy Flats, like many other small cities and villages, at first appeared to be dying on the vine; but there was one difference between Fancy Flats and the others: its inhabitants—blood of pioneers and Native Americans flowed through their veins. It could be seen in their work ethics, their stick-to-it till the job is done, their honesty, and their humor. Yes, they were of hardy stock. Their ancestors had weathered hard times, depression, and a drought. In doing so, they had learned the value of a dollar, how to get the most out of it, and subsequently, keep more of them for another day. The people of Fancy Flats had managed over the years to keep their share, perhaps a bit more.

Some of the town elders met for coffee each morning at Flo’s Café. Among them, Walter Pettycord, who was the mayor, the police commissioner, and owner of the largest general store. Customers drove in from miles around; if they needed it, Pettycord General Store and Hardware would have it. Wade G. Turner, also a county commissioner and, more importantly, the largest landowner and most successful rancher, belonged to many agricultural organizations.

On this day’s coffeehouse meeting, he and Walter were joined by several other ranchers. They were there to urge Wade G. Turner to attend the convention in New York, something he did not want to do. He turned them down, flat out quick. Been to enough conventions, Salt Lake, Chicago, Washington, and Atlanta. I didn’t care for it then, and I’m too old for it now.

But, Wade, we need someone there to look out for this region’s interests, no telling what will happen if we’re not represented, pleaded one.

Wade G. Turner studied his coffee mug before he raised it to drink. Well, it’s not gonna be me.

The other ranchers began to mumble among themselves; only two could be heard. Damn sure thing, Elsie won’t let me go, she doesn’t like it when I stop in here. Another, I’m a one-man operation, I can’t leave, I can hardly take off for a day.

The entrance to Flo’s Café opened slowly; the young man coming in nearly filled the entire opening. He removed his large-brimmed hat and leatherwork gloves and slowly pushed the door closed with the side of his work boot.

Flo spoke first, Hi, Gay, been expecting you.

Morning, Flo, the deep but soft voice replied.

The two waitresses spoke nearly in unison, Morning, Gay, how you doing? One added, Usual?

The deep, soft voice spoke through a smile, Aw, I’m pretty hungry this morning, but I reckon the usual will do, Betsy. If I don’t eat too much, I’ll get to come back and see you that much sooner.

Betsy didn’t even blush; she had heard it all before. Instead, she just commenced her call to the cook, Flo, A tall stack, three eggs over, do the sausage thing twice.

Gaylord Turner sat down across the table from his father, Wade. Morning, Daddy, got that trailer load of corn delivered, price is up a bit, should I haul another today?

Well yeah, if the price is up. Lord son, what time did you start today?

Oh, I had an early start all right. His serious gaze went to Walter Pettycord. The mayor called about 2:00 a.m.

Wade Turner cast cool eyes to Walter as he spoke, Belcher boys again?

Yeah, they were tearing up and down Main Street most of the night. I had to call somebody, most of the townsfolk were calling me.

Wade Turner grunted before he spoke, "Damn