Incident in Braxton Hollow

By J. N. Sadler

Incident in Braxton Hollow- In Braxton Hollow, a very small town in north-central Oregon, Heddy Roman owns and operates a second-hand store that has a flea market every Saturday at the Bend. Esau Carson, formerly from Braxton Hollow, returns after serving in the Army and divorcing his wife. He wants to start life anew in his hometown by finally dating sexy Heddy, who he went to school with. She has become a widow, having lost a baby before her teenage husband was killed in an auto accident. When they get together, he relates his past to her. Although she develops warm feelings for him, she is hesitant to rent him the spare room in her house. He convinces her that she shouldnt be alone, that the suspicious stranger from the flea market, who bought the ax, was reason that she needed protection. His affections towards her are welcome, but seem false. She lets love into the picture and tries to cope with the consequences of his actions. All of his affections for Heddy bring a jealous old lover back into the picture with a second rejected proposal of marriage. Jealousy and rejection bring about a curious ending.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 16, 2014
• ISBN: 9781499018851

J. N. Sadler

Janet Sadler is a resident of Havertown, Pennsylvania. She has published two volumes of poetry with her illustrations: Headwinds and Full Sail and has been published in many small literary magazines. Once member of the Mad Poets Society in Media, PA, and also the Overbrook Poets in Philadelphia, she reads her poetry at local venues. She was the former poetry director at Tyme Gallery in Havertown, PA and at Baldwin’s Book Barn in West Chester, PA. She has authored thirty flash fictions novels. Twenty-seven titles have been published through Xlibris and can be found at Xlibris.com, under J. N. Sadler Author’s email address: [e-mail]

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Copyright © 2014 by J. N. Sadler.

All rights reserved. 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 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.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 05/12/2014

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Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

CHAPTER 1

Water trickled down the street forming tiny streams on broken macadam. Braxton Hollow was a very small town in Oregon. Winter was weakening its grip, but more snow was headed their way. It was a constant in the great northwest. What they were experiencing was a rare intermittent spring thaw that would last only a couple of days. The mercury climbed higher than usual causing a rapid meltdown, giving the folks a breather. People were out and about on the small main street, shopping and conversing, braving the rain which fell softly in the mist. The rain was also a constant in their state. It was a gloomy place; few sought greener pastures, as the summers were so beautiful there. No one knew any better, being that far back in the woods.

Heddy Roman looked up at the sky as she loaded up her van with salvageable items to go to the flea market at the end of the road where it turned onto a muddy field. This was what they called The Bend where all town ceremonies and flea markets were held. Every Saturday Heddy set up long stationary tables with her wares and made extra money. Hardly anything was bought new. People from other towns came to buy and trade. It was always a pleasant time spent on the weekend.

Esau Carson happened along and helped Heddy lift pieces of small furniture into the van. She welcomed him.

Thank you, I appreciate your help.

She looked up at the sky, blinking away the raindrops.

He was a good-looking wood-carver that lived in the Moose Hotel. They went to school together way back when. He had left for the Army and returned many years later as a divorced man. His two kids were grown and didn’t ask much about their wandering daddy, nor care. He told her that his wife had poisoned them against him when she found out he had another woman. He retreated to his home town where his old friends were glad to see him, and it didn’t matter where he had been or what had transpired. It was none of their business.

The family home and business burnt down in a fierce lightning storm, killing both parents right before he left town. They willed him a lot of money, being as they owned the mortuary. Both buildings were wrecked and left half-standing. Wild grass and flowers flourished in between the charred bricks and stone remains in the spring and summer season. Their rival, Final Rest, took the business of burying the dead in Hoffstedter, twenty miles away in Timber County.

Heddy was a quiet, but strong woman, who married her high-school sweetheart. She was flirtatious with a reputation for being fast. Her mother was a looney tune, and her father died of heavy drug use. Shortly after he died, her mom took off to the east coast to live with her sister, leaving Heddy in the arms of her teenage husband. She left her the ramshackle house that was attached to an empty storefront. That’s where she set up a second-hand store and organized the flea market on the weekends. She had a blue van that she ran for pickups of merchandise in other localities. Sometimes, she picked items from people’s trash along the way. All in all, she made out well enough to pay her bills and get by in Braxton Hollow. It was a good thing, too. Dooley, her husband, went on a pick-up errand one day and never returned. The police found his body in a twisted piece of metal on the highway. Heddy was left, alone.

Her hair was still gold; blue eyes still bright, and she possessed a charming smile. Esau secretly liked her when they were growing up, but knew that she was someone his staid mother and father would not approve of. They were stern and good at what they did… preparing corpses for burial or cremation.

They got into the van and moved away from the curb, heading to the Bend. Early as it was on a Saturday morning, there were a lot of people already milling around, carrying bulging plastic trash bags stuffed and tied. A lot of people in the town brought used clothing in fair condition and hung it on racks provided by the store.

Heddy organized who got what table and where certain eye-catching items would do best. Her own stuff was mostly furniture and tools. The bric-a-brac didn’t bring in much money and was cumbersome to carry and keep track of. Other items she wrote off were old cameras and useless old televisions. In this town, there weren’t many second-hand riches to bargain with; however, with the weather being so iffy most of the time, a perpetual gloom hung over them, making them eager to congregate and stretch their legs. There wasn’t much industry there except for the logging industry. It was an old town with an aging populace. Rumor had it that developers were moving north and would soon bring more commerce and more people to the scene. Starbucks were building a coffee house on the outskirts and advertising another soon to be established in an old store that needed refurbishing on Main Street.

Heddy’s world was like most others in her town. It was small and doable. At forty-two, she didn’t aspire to finding a prince to carry her off to a better life, just a likeable blue-collar would do. But, her life was managed by her meticulous sense of timing and hard work.

Her faded plaid flannel shirt flapped in the breeze. A gust of premature ozone ruffled the bags and papers in the van as she pulled a small desk to the panel door.

Esau put her coat over her shoulders and said, You forget, it’s still winter. None of us can afford to get sick. Put your coat on. It is getting colder. Forecast says we’re in for a big one once the temperature drops.

She dutifully put it on and continued to tug at the heavy wood desk. He pushed her aside and lifted it out of the van with little effort. It was good to have him help with heavy objects, but it was the physical exertion that kept her figure trim.

I’m glad you came home, she said, smiling.

Home was a word that could bring tears to his eyes. He had wandered, unhappily for years going through women and gambling, always laying his head on a pillow that gave no comfort because it wasn’t his place to be. There was still hope. He was unaware of the surroundings for a split second. Her voice