Rock Salt Mountain

Karma had brained his good intentions five long years ago and he was sober. Jamie’s luck had changed, maybe. He and Rex sat silently watching the snow-covered scenery. No matter how lucky, quietly one survives the winters of the far north. After witnessing his only sibling engulfed by an avalanche, the retired axe man appreciated snow’s power turned terror.

Rex adjusted his massive head to a more comfortable position in Jamie’s lap, stretched then grunted. Jamie amused his friend sounded so human, stroked skinfolds on the dog’s neck which started his tail thumping against the leather return. Saved from his morbid daydream by his companion’s rumblings, he thought about throwing another log in the fire when an opaque figure crossed the window and stopped. Rex’s ears perked as much as a hound’s could and a low warning escaped his throat. Jamie placed a hand on Rex’s head, quieting his growling and after sliding his feet into house shoes, approached the window. He wiped the fog away and winced from the snow’s blinding glory.

Pine draped in white, impeded in their generational march by the lake, reveled in splendor against a cerulean sky and there, staring back, an enormous stag enamored with his own reflection. His does pawed through fresh snow fall for edibles, only noticeable by their slight movements and occasional tail flickers.

Jamie couldn’t take his eye off the prince, whose nostrils steamed the window up again. Then stag and concubines vanished, as though he mesmerized onlookers while protecting those weaker than himself. Jamie awoke from his trance awed by the experience, even more grateful to be alive. Struck by the thought his brother would have wanted to see such a magnificent sight, he picked up the phone.

“– The hell you want!” Jim’s voice came through after rattling the phone around trying to get it to his mouth.

“I just saw a huge buck! Had to be at least twelve points! It was right outside my window!” Jamie waited as rigor mortis took hold of the conversation.

“Are ya’ outta your damn mind? There’s a crapload of deer runnin’ ‘round this here mountain, can’t keep’em outta my garden, and the last thing I wanna call ‘bout is a damn deer! And the last –”

“But Jim –”

“And the last person I wanna hear ‘bout a deer from is you!”

Jamie heard the clumsy job his brother did slamming the phone before it disconnected. He tightened his jaw and tasted around his pallet for the familiar flavor of failed communication.

***

Jamie pulled the Apache out the driveway early enough for breakfast, even though he’d stood at his closet trying to choose from beige, beige, beige, flannel, and beige for over an hour. Driving around the lake he noticed three seagulls harassing each other. One bird would dart away, and then forced into an evasive maneuver, expose its white under plumage and a fish which another gull would snatch from its beak.

After traveling down the mountain’s cutbacks, he slowed to halt in front of a cabin nestled in a chink in the trees. Juniper grew aside the driveway and up to porch steps missing a left handrail. A totem pole thrust its tongue at him and with a stack of angry facial expressions, made sure he knew he remained unwelcomed. The hound pacing back and forth, with lips tucked in a neat snarl, exploded with barking, furthering the point. He rolled down the window letting in the cold and the sound of the four-legged sentinel. Exhaust filled the truck and his breath curled from his mouth as he waited, the truck’s engine glugging.

A curtain flashed in the cabin. The dog, triggered by a noise unheard by Jamie, turned and jumped up and down excitedly. A matte-black shotgun barrel grew from where the window had slid open. Satisfied with the results of his presence, he eased the red truck into first gear, and with a lurch, continued down the road.

Jamie reached town and stepped into the Tomahawk Café. The aroma of eggs and biscuits filled the air and greasy spatulas interrupted the applause of sausage links. The smell of redwood décor and lard sparked his hunger as he scooted into a beige booth and almost disappeared. He hadn’t fell a serious tree in years, but that didn’t keep him from eating like he’d come from Bunyan’s backyard without nourishment.

A waitress with a hatchet shaped name tag, ‘Betty’ it read, approached and lowered an omelet of sausage, mushrooms, and peppers onto his table, filled his coffee cup and kept walking. She never stopped talking to the two younger blonde waitresses behind the counter. He laid into his omelet without a word. Seeing he’d almost finished his meal; Betty returned and refilled his cup.

This morning’s phone call had shaken him. He gazed past the coffee’s steam, searched the images of fault lined snow that shifted from its mantle, spreading chaos down the mountain side where his brother skied. His hand twitched when he remembered his brother’s purple face, wrestling him from the snow, and fingering cheekfulls of it from his mouth so to breathe for him, while fearing a white-crush set off by digging. No one would’ve rescued him.

Jamie unfolded thirteen dollars on the table, but left the coffee untouched. The waitresses wore confused looks as he eased thought the diner’s doors.

He crossed the street and eyed his trip’s true purpose, a hardware store at the end of the block. Black and brown letters clung to the overhang and read 33rd St hardware Co. and a Victorian style lamppost stretched from the yellow siding. His heart pounded and he look back see the waitresses watching him as he entered the barber shop.

“Jamie! How ya’ doin’ buddy?” The thin man standing behind the barber’s chair edging his client neck never took his eyes off the young man’s hairline.

“I’m good and you?”

“I’d be better if I could convince this stooge Ali was the greatest of all-time.”

“I don’t’ care what you say Carmine,” Reese continued after he paused for a couple dry coughs. “If Marciano would’ve saw Ali in the ring, he would’ve made him take communion at mass.”

“It’s the Rocky – Ali discussion again? Greg did you get them started on this?”

The thick-set man sitting with his back against a jukebox, arms around his belly like a croker sack, smiled and turned the funnies spread over the table.

“I’m just saying you have to consider; Ali was a boxer-slugger-artist. He could fight any style!”

“Boxer-slugger-artist, Boxer-slugger-artist. You talk like the man had an easel in the ring!”

“He did!” Carmine untied the smock covering the young man in the chair and brushed the hair on the floor. “And he only used black and blue when he painted faces.”

The young man stood up and inspected himself in the mirror that ran down the shop’s wall. Carmine offered him a small magnifying mirror, but he waved it away, passed Carmine a twenty and waved away the change. Carmine signaled for Jamie to have a seat, which he did as a tall, svelte woman walked by.

Her hair, whipped up by the breeze, made her appear as she would in a photographer’s wind tunnel while it hovered around her head. Before she passed the window, she looked inside and saw the gawking men. Jamie stared into the mirror as the comments began.

“Damn, did you see that?”

“I sure did.” The young man stuffed his wallet into a back pocket.

“That was the sexiest black gal I’ve ever seen. Did you see those lips?”

“I had a negra gal once.” Reese let loose another string of dry coughs. “France, summer of ‘47.”

“Give me a clean shave and a little off the sides.”

The room fell silent and Reese, Greg, and Carmine, who absently held the clippers, stared at Jamie like the Holy Grail had fallen out of his mouth.

“Okay, uh, sure.” Carmine dropped the clippers on his booth and began running a straight razor across a leather strap.

“You look a little nervous, you sure you know how to use that thing?”

“Of course.” Carmine cleared his throat. “Like I was saying Reese, Ali would have fed Marciano his teeth!”

“Your eyes are brown because you’re full of crap!”

“After Carmine softened Jamie’s beard, chunks of brown hair fell. Reese did his best to keep conversation going while trying not to watch in amazement ten years shorn from his friend’s face.

“– and just like that bluckow! Took his head clean off.” Reese motioned the kick of an imaginary rifle.

“You ain’t never fought a damn bear. A man would have a scar or something from an encounter with a Kodiak.”

“Reese’s face and neck turned red. He sat back in his chair, lifted his leg to the seat next to him and tugged his pant leg. As it rose arched indentation patterns appeared over his sock, each one deeper and more defined than the one before it. Greg let out a low swelling whistle.

“Dang thing just kept comin’, even after I emptied my sidearm on’em.” Reese’s eyes moistened. “Died right on top of me, six hundred pounds, right on top me.”

Carmine looked uncomfortable after jesting about Reese’s story and flashed a mirror in front of Jamie.

“Jamie looked at himself in the unsteady mirror before he took it from Carmine’s hand. Cold winters he’d endured hoarding lumber had preserved him. He sported a hardened John Wayne type face with minor smile lines and crow’s feet that most men can’t avoid after forty. His grey eyes sparkled with vitality and now with the haircut and shave he’d pass for a man in his early thirties. He winced at his reflection and thought maybe he’d overdone it. He had a track record of overdoing things, as an adolescent the bet, as an adult, his drinking, and Elaine.

“Something wrong?”

“No, no, oh no, just – forgot my face under that thing.” Jamie put the mirror down.

“He can cut hair, but he can’t help ugly.”

Greg chuckled at Reese’s wisecrack and his belly jiggled.

“Oh, you thought that was funny, eh?” Jamie stood from the chair and stretched. Greg shrugged his shoulders and returned to the funnies. “How much do I owe you?”

“No, no, this one’s on me Avalanche.”

“Cut it out.” Jamie pulled a twenty from his wallet. “I’m no different than anyone else.”

“Seriously, your money’s no good here. You’re a he –”

“I’m not a hero – look.” Jamie relented and put the bill back. “Just put it on my tab, would you?”

“Will do.” Jamie shook Carmine’s hand, knowing it was a tab he would never let him resolve.

After saying goodbye to Reese and Greg, Jamie walked to the hardware store, humming a tune to calm his nerves. The day had warmed considerably, and the breeze soothed his hairless face. People moseyed around the town’s shops, a couple swung their child by the hand, a lady in leathers with a biker helmet leaving the general store, a milkman on his route. All too soon he could smell the hot copper coils behind the ice machine in front of the hardware store. He grew roots three feet from the entrance and his guilt and shame watered, nourished, and anchored those roots. Four seasons past before he got the nerve to open the door, loneliness drove him inside.

The customer bell, just as annoying as a mimicking parrot, announced to the whole store his heart’s desire from above the door. The lumber section pitted its smell against alloys in the tool section and the result made Jamie’s muscles tense up, ready for work.

A man in a tweed jacket inspected the doorknob section. He picked a designed that was just as uppity and out of place as he was in a hardware store. His loafers clicked on the floor when he walked to the counter and wordlessly handed the knob to the red-headed clerk.

“Will that be all for you today Sir?”

“Yes, thank you.” The man gave her his credit card. His eyes scanned the pegboard behind her while she rang up his purchase and dropped it into a paper bag.

Jamie watched every move she made, even took note of the roll and tuck she did with the bag. She flipped her hair and delicate hands slammed home a staple, pinning the receipt to the outside.

“You have a nice day and come again.”

“You too.”

The man walked past Jamie, who hadn’t been able to pull his attention away from her smile. When he realized the transaction had ended, his staring was an obvious as an ass drinking from the town hall’s birdbath.

“Hi, Jamie. You okay?” She lowered her head to meet his far away gaze.

“Oh, oh yeah. I uhm, just came to caulk –” He snatched a caulk gun from the shelf. “I mean pick up a caulker.”

“A caulk gun?” She put her hand on her hip.

“Yeah, yeah that’s it. Got to patch some things up for the winter you know.”

“It’s a little late in the season to winterize, don’t you think?” She gave him a pitied look.

“I never knew how much I needed it till now.” Jamie pushed a wheel barrel to the counter while awkwardly digging for his wallet. He looked up from the caulk gun, straight into her green eyes, eyes that could forgive if they had to, wax fierce if they need to, and accurately depict her soul’s condition if someone hurt her. Only someone in love with her could stand their intensity.

The light band of freckles across her nose and cheekbones didn’t hide their fine shape, in fact her face defied them, as though she should have outgrown them with adolescent’s passing. Yet the roundness of her cheeks betrayed her and spoke of youth and springtime and her graceful neck, the origin of dulcet tones he’d grown to love.

This close he could smell coconut fragrance in her hair, see the skittering freckles down her arms that ended behind bangles around her wrist. Covered in sawdust, her black apron was hand printed with the stuff. He wouldn’t have had it any other way. When he put it in prospective, his heart thumped hard one time, then slowed as it always did before the last blow from his axe gave rise to a finite cracking sound from a tree.

“I was wondering if you’d have dinner with me?”

“Is that why you came in here looking like a schoolboy?” A slight blush settled on her cheeks.

“So, you don’t like it?” Jamie turned the caulk gun over in his thick-knuckled hands.

“I think you’re handsome clean shaven. I was just wondering when you were going to stop wasting your money on tools you didn’t need.”

She pulled out a pen and scribbled on a receipt. “Call me tonight, we’ll talk.”

“Oh okay, I’ll do that.” Jamie slipped the paper from her hand. He turned to leave and passed three life-size Tim Allen cut-outs before putting down the caulk gun. He looked back and she flutter goodbye with her fingers. He stepped outside and the store’s bell announced the sweetest name An-gel.

***

Angela Sorenson, Angel to her friends, recently a name stuck on the tip of the town’s tongue and an affectionate extension of Jamie’s. Sometimes he found it hard to believe that she lay next to him, asleep with her red mane fanned over the pillow smelling of pina colada. He enjoyed when he’d awake and find her staring at him with eyes that three months before he couldn’t look at without breaking into cold sweats. He wondered how long it would take her to bore with listening to his heartbeat, twirling his chest hair, and asking for stories about saw-bucking dangers he’d encountered. He pushed the thought away and felt guilty for entertaining it.

She’d even passed the Rex test. Not often can someone keep their composure after a 100-pound dog buries his head in their crotch in canine salutation. Truly enough to envy, the way Rex came alive when Angel visited, the snausages she kept in her pocket for him won him over. A dog whom he’d seen mercilessly snap a raccoon’s neck in a free-for-all, reduced to a squirming, grunting, whelp at the mercy of her tummy tickles. Jamie and Rex inseparable chums, yes, but nothing nurtures like a woman.

‘Nurturing’, Jamie thought as she heaped a ladle of beef stew into his bowl. She insisted on serving him at meals; getting used to not dining out of microwavable boxes in front of the T.V. didn’t require much getting used to.

“How is it?” Angel unfolded a napkin onto her lap.

“Mmp – it’s delish!” He spoke around a beef chunk and tried to keep its juice from drowning him before it fell apart. “Better than my mom’s.”

“Stop it, your mom probably cook’s way better than I do.”

“My mom is eighty-seven and confuses cat food and tuna. Which reminds me if we visit don’t eat the casserole.”

“Well, of course, the sight and the hearing, then the smell goes around that age, but I’m sure when you were younger she cooked well for her children.” Angel pointed with her spoon. “I mean you’re not scrawny at all.”

“Comes from my dad’s side of the family, all lumberjacks, literally, not my mother’s cooking, trust me.”

Rex started licking his bowl and it scraped across the kitchen floor then stopped, crowded between the trashcan and stove. Jamie tore a roll in half and sopped stew.

“Oh, that reminded me!” Angel lifted her napkin. “Your brother invited us to dinner tomorrow. He came in the shop for dog food and buck slugs. Said dog food is cheaper there than the general store.

Jamie stopped chewing and a chill crept over his skin. She continued unaware of the meat stuck in his throat.

“I knew him right off. When you told me you guys were twins, I should have known he’d look like you, but I wasn’t counting on you guys looking so much alike. I mean, usually the haircut, body type or a scar or something’s the difference.”

“Really, what all did he say?” Jamie had forced the stew down.

“Nothing much really. I told him I thought he was you at first and that we were dating. Then he said we should come by for dinner tomorrow. Says he is going to make lasagna.” She scooped a beef cube. “Seems like a pretty nice guy, just like his brother.”

Angel smiled at Jamie. He managed to return the gesture and spoon more food in his mouth, even though he knew with the way his stomach complained, he’d need and extended stay at his private indoor lumber mill.

Angel had her purse, keys, and Tupperware bowls as she stood on the porch being kissed like porcelain eggshell would if one decided to kiss such a thing. She had an early start at the shop and her absence in bed wouldn’t go unnoticed, but urgent matters at hand needed her gone.

Jamie watched her pull out the driveway. Rex whimpered then looked at Jamie, his expression asking, ‘Where is she going’. Jamie rolled his eyes. Inside he made straight for the phone. He dialed, paced, exhaled, and looked around the cabin while he rang his brother.

Everything had been dusted and moved slightly, the picture of his father by the lake with a salmon, the softball league’s MVP trophy, the employee of the year plaque from the mill before his father bought the company, before Harbaugh discovered oil on their property. With everything cleaned it didn’t feel like his place anymore; it would take time for the dust to build up again. The phone continued to voicemail. Jamie hung up and dialed again.

‘What could he be up to? Five years of silence and now he up and invites me to dinner. What’s he trying to pull?’

He walked to the fridge, took a beer from the crisper, and shoved it in the mouth of a mounted head of a mule deer buck, where a bottle opener waited. The phone continued to voicemail. He hung up, flopped down on the sofa and dialed again. Rex took up his station next to him. Jamie took a swig while watching a muted T.V. The news anchors silently tried to convince him on some point, with slight head nods, smiles, and furrowed eyebrows. A third ring prompted the voicemail again. He hung up and tossed the phone on the couch.

‘9:39, he should be home by now.’

Jamie didn’t like getting toyed with and would’ve handled the situation in an upfront manner, had his brother’s recent ammunition purchase not swayed his better judgment.

***

Jamie and Angel bounced around in the old truck as they made their way down the mountain. Rex bounded from one side of the truck bed to the other, letting trails of drool fly. When Jim’s cabin came into view Jamie’s stomach knotted.

Hyacinths and Marigold had sprung up. Rhododendron jutted from the base of the totem pole. Robins camped around the porch with an aloofness in their eyes, knowing spring popped up wherever they alighted. Rex jumped out and chased the two away who were busying themselves yanking up worms. The robin perched on the handrail condemned the dog’s arrogance with a look before flying off.

The couple approached the stairs when the screen door burst open. Jamie closed his eyes, not wanting to see the barrel flash that would send him into eternity. Instead of cannon roar or a slug breaking into his ribcage, he heard Angel’s laughter and opened his eyes to see Rex and Jim’s dog Camille engaged in a rotating, butt-sniffing, dog-donut. Jim stood at the door in a chef apron welcoming Angel with a hug. For a moment Jamie thought he’d died and the scene a warped Elysian Field, the wages of his sins.

“Come on in, lasagna’s almost done.” Jim clapped Jamie on the back.

Jim’s cabin, not as spacious as his brothers, needed renovation, not because of ill-care or size, but because of semi-organized bachelor clutter. Stuff made fake walls two feet away from the real ones. Crossbows, bookshelves, and trombones from band practices never manifested comprised these walls. And pictures, the pictures were the worst. There on every wall, the truth’s low-down, dirty tableaux, and Elaine’s Mona Lisa smile. Pictures everywhere, surrounding the table where the trio sat in rarified air to a meal of pasta and wine.

“You’re sure you don’t want any chianti?” Jim refilled Angel’s glass.

“No, I’m fine with water. Thank you.”

“And so, your father bought all of Rock Salt Mountain?”

“At least that’s why the county treasurer says he keeps his hand in my pockets.”

“What a story! That will be one to tell your kids.”

“Looks like ol’ Jamie’s further along in that aspect then I am.”

Jim tipped his wineglass in Angel’s direction then Jamie’s. Jamie shifted in his chair.

“Well, ehem, we’ve only been dating for a little over three months.” Angel touched Jamie’s hand.

“Nonsense, I know a good woman when I see one and I’d be honored to raise a family with her.” Jamie stared directly at Jim. Angel flushed redder than the lasagna and took a large sip.

“Well, ehem, who is the woman in all the pictures?”

“That, was my Elaine.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. I caught her cheating with some bastard.” Jim swirled his wine and gulped the last of it down. “I just haven’t taken the pictures down. I mean, after all those were good times.”

“Oh God, you poor thing. It must be hard for you being surrounded by all these memories up here by yourself.” Angel looked around once more, stunned by the sheer number of photos.

“You get used to it, it, uhm –” Jim turned towards the wall to hide his tears. Angel slid her chair over and patted him on the shoulder.

“Excuse me, I need to use the restroom.” Angel shooed Jamie away with her other hand and continue consoling Jim.

In the bathroom Jamie wanted to throw up.

‘How could I have been so blind? Only one way to deal with this; go out there and pull a George Washington.’

As he washed his face and prepared for battle, he heard laughter coming from the living room. When he came to the dinner table, Jim and Angel’s mirth had tears streaming down their cheeks. All the fight sucked out of him, he sank into a chair and poured himself a glass of wine.

***

Jamie slept in fleeting snatches of unconsciousness. Dinner ended with a crescendo of embarrassment, as Rex had been trying to mount Jim’s dog all afternoon. While chasing her, he found himself stuck in a dog door three sizes too small for him when the robins returned and took nest building materials from his softer parts at leisure.

‘They say imitation’s the greatest form of flattery, eh Jamie?’

Angel laughed at Jim raciness thinking he was referring to her and Jamie’s lovemaking. Jim clapped him on the back and Jamie wanted to upchuck again.

Even Angel’s coconut locks brought him no comfort. When he dozed off, he dreamed of an earthquake which made him run to his porch to witness a giant totem pole breach the ground. The pole grew until it blotted out the sun. Each face pushed up from the earth more sinister than the last. When the up-thrust stopped at its base stood two beige elevator doors. The rumbling ceased and the doors opened.

Jim stood in the elevator, redder than a tomato from the waist up. He went shirtless, his hairy legs formed like a goat’s. He held a shotgun which he started playing like a flute. Jamie found that he could not move and Angel, hypnotized by his melody, began emptying the cabin of its things. She carried everything into the phallus at lightning speed. Jim danced around the pole. Jamie felt tugging at his knee. Camille had latched onto his leg, a look on her face somewhere between a cynical smile and sheer contempt.

The cabin emptied, Angel and Rex joined Jim in the elevator. The doors closed and the pole receded. After it disappeared, Camille ripped Jamie’s leg off and jumped down the hole with it. He hopped down the stairs to peer into the fissure which had shrank to the circumference of a shotgun muzzle. The ground trembled again, and he turned to see a huge wave of snow crest over the cabin as it buried him the only pain he felt shot up his backside like fire.

Jamie awoke with a jolt. Angel, a sound sleeper, smacked her lips and mumbled about lasagna.

‘This is too much for me.’

He dreaded the barbeque Angel and he had agreed to attend next Friday at this brother’s cabin at the bottom of Rock Salt Mountain.

***

All week Jamie took his chances venturing onto his brother’s property without Angel. He banged on the door each time, but Jim didn’t answer. He would’ve rather had the usual gun barrel greeting, at least he might decipher his brother’s true intent before dying.

Friday arrived and Jamie convinced Angel to meet him at Jim’s place later, giving him time to speak with his brother alone. Jim hadn’t answered his phone all week, so desperate times warranted John Henry type measures.

Jamie’s truck swerved and rumbled into Jim’s driveway. Like a freakish illusion, there his cabin stood, warm, inviting, with the door open, smoke wafting from the chimney, and two chickens pecking around the tires of Jim’s beat up Ford. A rooster perched on the truck’s tailgate nonchalantly scratching at hardened over snow. Jamie had enough of his brother’s magic tricks. He slammed his truck’s door, stormed up the stairs, and let himself in without knocking.

“– The hell have you been? I know you’ve heard me calling you and leaving messages. knocking on your door. You’re just going to ignore my calls.”

Jim looked up from his chair with a puzzled expression. His hands were covered in blood and seasonings from a bowl of meat. He sniffled from the spices and wiped his nose on his sleeve.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play games with me Jimmy and stop talking like that. It isn’t you okay! Mr. Prim and Proper my ass! You don’t let me step foot on your property for five years and then when Angel comes around, you up and invite me to dinner like a gentleman and a scholar, which we both know you’re not!”

“Now you’d better watch your mouth Jamie.”

“Don’t tell me to watch my mouth when you’re playing games. For half a decade you’ve been sticking that shotgun out at me, would not talk to me, and now you only talk to me when Angel’s around. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing! Jamie jabbed a finger into his palm with each word.

“And what is that Jamie? What am I doing?”

“You’re trying to take Angel from me, the way – the way I took Elaine from you.”

A crash came from the kitchen and after the original blast of clatter came the tinkling’s of glass and a top rotating to a standstill. It made Jim stand and stopped the heated words between the two. Seconds later Angel appeared in the living room doorway. Holding her left hand that was wrapped in a white cloth that turned redder by the moment.

“What are you doing here?”

“Making potato salad.”

“You’re hurt.” He reached for her, but she moved away. He stood there and shoved his hands in his pockets. Time slowed for them the same as it does for a doe waiting for a wolf pack to pass. Jamie hung his head and swept his boot along a line in the tan carpet. “I’m not the same person I was back then.”

“I know Jamie, none of us are.” She gripped her hand tighter. “You, me, him, none of us are.”

“Can’t you see he’s playing ga –”

“He isn’t playing games, he’s hurt Jamie. Can’t you see that?”

“He’s trying to tear us apart. That’s been his plan since day one.”

“Part of me can’t blame him. What you did was seriously, seriously wrong. And you –” She glared at Jim, folded her arms, and stuck the bleeding hand under her armpit. “How dare you torment your brother like that? You can see he is sorry for what he did. How could you torture him like that?”

“If he wouldna slept with Elaine –”

“But he did and it’s over between you and her! You still have a brother who wants a relationship with you and you’re crapping on him.” Angel untied and retied the cloth revealing a cut not as serious as it was fleshy, and doubtless to leave a mark. Jim stared into the bowl of meat and both men shifted their weight and sighed. Jamie, I trusted you. You didn’t lie to me, but you didn’t tell me either. How do you think I’m going to trust you holding something that big from me?”

“I didn’t know how to tell you.” Jamie picked lint from his jeans and watched a blue and grey clump fall to the floor. It fell through thick air.

“Uh huh, well, I have a feeling you guys are going to learn how to communicate better, because until you sort this out, I’m not going to have anything to do with the both of you.”

“Angel -” Jamie reached for her. Angel avoided him again and made her way to the door. She jogged down the stairs and let it bang closed.

“Now look what ya’ done.” Jim pushed his chair back and sneezed into the fold of his arm.

“What the hell are you talking about, ‘What I did’?

Jamie stepped onto the porch and saw Angel’s car pull from the back of the cabin and out the driveway. Jim joined him on the porch as her dust cloud settled. He patted his chest and pulled a cheroot from his pocket.

“Why was she parked ‘round back?”

“Easier gettin’ in the groceries.” Jim pulled three matches from his pocket. “Woo wee, she’s a fiery one for real ain’t she.”

“What’s it with you man? Why you doing this to me now?”

“Why do ya’ think dummy, just why do ya’ think? ‘Cause I want you to feel pain is why. The pain I felt comin’ home from work and havin’ my whole world blown apart. The same pain I felt from not bein’ the favorite.”

“The favorite?”

“Dad left you the truck, you the upper bend, you the company all without thinking of me.”

“I let Harbaugh run the damn thing and I don’t care about what happens on the other side of this mountain.” Jamie pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. “Besides I share the profits with you, and you always said you didn’t want the trouble!”

“That’s not the damn point.” Jim lit his cigar. “Then the next biggest slap in the face is ya’ walkin’ ‘round here like a goddamn hero when ya’ dared me to go up that mountain.”

“We were fifth-teen, just stupid kids! Jamie raised his hands above his head.

“Speak for yourself. I knew better than to go up there, but I let my hero brother dare me to do it. Ya’ knew how I felt ‘bout being called chicken.

“Oh my God, are you serious right now?” Jamie stepped back avoiding his brothers smoke cloud. “Look man, what’ll it take to settle this, set things straight between you and me huh? What – what, you want the company? You want my property? My Apache, what?”

Jim looked down for a moment then walked into the cabin. He returned, the stock of his shotgun set in the crook of his arm, angled low like when he stalked turkey. Jamie’s heart gave a single hard thump and settled atop his liver. He backed towards the porches’ edge, never taking his eyes from the barrel.

“So, this is what it comes down to brother you’re going to kill me?”

“Nope.” Jim broke down the gun and inspected the round. “Rock salt, when ya’ wanna hurt somethin’ really bad, but not kill it. See the way I look at it is, we’re not really twins anymore. Sure, we might look alike, but I got this here scar on my heart and it ain’t never gonna go away. We can’t ever be alike again, can we?”

“So, you want to shoot me with rock salt?”

“Right in the arse.”

“And this, will make us even?”

“Even Stevens.”

“You’re freaking crazy.” Jamie started towards his truck.

“Suit yourself, but I don’t’ think Angel’s the compromisin’ type.”

Jamie opened his truck door and stopped in his track from the last comment. He raised his hand, flipped Jim the bird, then sped off throwing gravel and rousing the chickens pecking under Jim’s truck.

***

Spring jilted the northwest like a groom abandoned at the altar. Once again Jamie and Rex tucked away for a brutal winter storm, although this bout with nature he’d endure with a refreshment with more mental purchase. He disregarded the shot glass, sandwiched it in between the sofa cushions, and the Jack Daniels bottle wedged between his thighs remained uncorked. He had a slow pull and returned the bottle to his lap while the gale outside beat against the windows and sucked at the chimney, like someone trying to relieve a malt glass of its contents.

He hated this, he hated waiting. Time nibbled at him like a pine beetle doing its best work. He felt his life had turned into molasses. The more he fought to right things, the more jammed up everything got.

The whiskey sloshed over logic, and it in turn drooled over better judgment, who spat in the face of reason and so forth, until idiocy and stupidity both pissed on common sense.

“What the hell’s a little rock salt?” Jamie missed his coat’s arm three times.

The snow hadn’t started, but the wind blew at him like a trick candle at the back of a birthday cake. He could see Rex’s head in the window, a toothy jack-o-lantern. He heard him barking, so he waved at him to calm him down, stumbled, took another drink, then continued down the road.

Halfway down the mountain a break in the swollen clouds appeared and the night showed through, deep and dark, like a pit in the sky. A cloud shaped like a mitten covered four of the seven stars in the big dipper. Jamie watch the stars smolder until they disappeared behind purple cumulus. Wind pushed through the treetops, sounding like individual orchestra players warming up for a concert, then collectively exhaling and bending the trees before their breath. He held his own against their sway and steadied himself in the now shin deep snow. Big flakes began to hurl themselves at his eyes. Luckily, he looked to his left; he’d almost walked past his brother’s cabin.

In his heart he felt he was doing the right thing, though in the past he’d done the wrong things for the right reasons. He always knew Elaine could not stay true to Jim. He saw her lasciviousness from the day they met her at the carnival. He’d tried to tell Jim, but she had already tapped him too deeply and drained him of any objectivity, the subtle and thorough work of a succubus. Jamie figured if he didn’t cheat with her someone else would, but he hadn’t meant to get caught. It should’ve been simple, or at least it appeared to be when filtered through the liquid courage. She would’ve had to disappear, less her dirty little secret be revealed.

“Jimmy, Jimmy! Get your ass out here!” Jamie gulped Jamison and tossed the bottle, watched it ricochet off the handrail and shatter. The porch light came on and Camille’s muffled barking could be heard from inside the cabin. Jim stepped outside, shotgun in hand.

“What in the hell is your problem?” He closed his bathrobe against the cold.

“My problem is that you’re stupid.”

“God your drunk – again. Get in this house for ya catch –”

“And you don’t know who loves you and who hates your guts.” Jamie pointed with a snow encrusted arm. Jim shook his head. “Elaine didn’t love you stupid.”

“Now just shut your mouth, shut your god-damn mouth right now.”

“She didn’t, tried to tell you, you wouldn’t listen. ‘Member the candies Jimmy? ‘Member?” Jamie took off his coat.

“Shut up and put your coat back on.”

“You would always get the nasty ones, then - then I’d always end up given’ you mine. Even though, I told you they’re nasty. You didn’t listen. She didn’t love you man. I love you bro.”

“I said shut up!” Jim pointed the gun at Jamie.

“I love you bro.” Jamie turned, unlatched his pants, and dropped them to his ankles. “I’m here in the snow and I love you bro. She’s not and she didn’t.”

“I said shut up or I’ll shoot, so help me.”

“Go ahead, shoot me. I don’t care anymore bro. S’long as you know she didn’t love you and I do.” Jamie bent over in his polka dot boxers.

“I’ll do it – I will.” Jim pointed the gun and cocked the hammer.

“You don’t have the balls to shoot cause your chick –”

A shot rang out on Rock Salt Mountain before the storm, pregnant with fury, broke over countryside. A sound that stiffened the trees around Jim’s cabin as they watched crimson leak from Jamie’s body.

***

Jamie felt wet linen against his face, then realized he’d been drooling. Weight on his shoulders made it difficult to move his neck. When all his parts checked in, he realized a sling elevated his hips above the bed.

“Doctor says not to move much.” Jim flipped through the newspaper. Jamie focused on his brother sitting in a burgundy chair with his legs crossed looking relaxed, smug even.

“He doesn’t have to worry about that my head’s pounding.”

“If you’re needin’ somethin’ for headache the nurse says let her know.”

“I don’t think they’ll give me a gun.”

“Oh no you can’t go dyin’ on me now, now that I’ma hero.”

“Huh?” Jamie lifted his head.

“Oh yeah, says right here in the paper.” Jim held up the paper and popped it out.

“You didn’t?”

“No, I didn’t, but news travels fast in these here parts. Ya woulda frozen to death if I hadna found ya.”

“But you shot me in the ass!”

“Ya invited me skiing, so we’re even as far as I’m concerned.”

“Oh God, why me?” Jamie buried his head in the pillow. There was a knock at the door.

“Come in.” Jim folded the newspaper and laid it on the table next to him.

“Go away.”

“I would grumpy, but there’s a sale on butt cushions at the shop and I think you might need one.” Angel examined his wound through the opening in his hospital gown. Jamie wanted to kick the cardiograph because it quickened its tempo when she spoke.

“I’ll let ya two love birds get acquainted.” Jim stood to leave. “Oh, and Jamie, uh – some of what ya said made sense, in your own dumb kinda way.”

“Humph.” The door clicked behind Jim leaving the sound of the cardiograph and T.V. murmur.

“That was nice of your brother to come and stay here with you.”

“Yeah, real nice. So, you come to make fun of me too?” He couldn’t see her as she began to run her finger up his back. The heart monitor again reported an increase in blood circulation. She brushed her hand against his cheek, which had the makings of a new beaver pelt. “I hadn’t had time to shave, I – miss you.”

“Shhh, I miss you too.” She kissed his forehead and cheeks and tasted the saltiest teardrops that had ever fallen.

The End

Copyrighted 2014