\nHe never saw his mother again after that night.\n<\/p>\n
\nHe never saw his father, either, except for news photos of the trial.\n<\/p>\n
\nThe sheriff assumed his father dumped her body in the river, and though deputies spent weeks dredging and searching, they never found it.\n<\/p>\n
\nHis father never said what he did with her corpse, and eventually the hangman sealed his lips forever.\n<\/p>\n
\nUnsurprisingly, the boy grew up sad and alone.\n<\/p>\n
\nOlder cousins took him in, and while they treated him kindly and saw to it he never wanted for anything, they couldn\u2019t fill the void the crime left.\n<\/p>\n
\nIn school other kids would talk about him, whisper about him, and while most weren\u2019t overtly cruel, neither were they compassionate.\n<\/p>\n
\nHe started taking long walks in the woods, then hikes, then weekends camping.\n<\/p>\n
\nBeing in the wilderness soothed him, and as his senses absorbed the sharp pine smell, the calls of birds, the chatter of squirrels, the brisk cold of fall and the drowsy warmth of spring, he could forget about people, forget about his pain.\n<\/p>\n
\nSmall wonder he gravitated towards working in the great outdoors.\n<\/p>\n
\nHe inherited his mother\u2019s calm and forbearance, but from his father a burly body and exceptional strength.\n<\/p>\n
\nLogging proved the perfect trade for him: He could work outdoors and vent his feelings by swinging a great ax against a mighty tree, until finally his pain and sorrow brought it down.\n<\/p>\n
\nA dozen trees, a hundred, then a thousand.\n<\/p>\n
\nFor him, as good a life as possible.\n<\/p>\n
\n
\nCall him Hank, an apt name for any logger, especially a faller, and a perfect name for him.\n<\/p>\n
\nHank felled the trees after the high climbers topped them by removing their crowns and branches.\n<\/p>\n
\nSwinging a double bit ax, he hacked away at both sides of the selected trees, first cutting a notch about a third of the way into the trunk on the side he wanted it to fall, then a second notch, deeper and higher up, on the opposite side.\n<\/p>\n
\nEventually gravity came to his aid, and the trees majestically toppled over, crashing to the ground where buckers would cut them into more manageable lengths, then setters would wrap choker chains around the limbless trunks to drag them down the skid road to the river where the knot bumpers would brand them for their trip to market.\n<\/p>\n
\nAfter their lunch break, Hank and Witte, a wiry high climber, went up the hill to the tallest spruce, one marked for them to fell that afternoon.\n<\/p>\n
\nHank wanted to plot the angle of the fall; if he fell the tree right, it would slide halfway down the hill on its own, making the setters\u2019 job easier.\n<\/p>\n
\nAs Witte strapped on his climbing spikes, Hank, ax resting on his shoulder, casually placed his palm against the bark of the tree.\n<\/p>\n
\nHe didn\u2019t hear<\/em> it, he didn\u2019t feel <\/em>it, but he suddenly knew <\/em>it:\n<\/p>\n \nHis mother lay buried under the tree.\n<\/p>\n \nHe staggered back, blinking and working his open mouth like a mountain perch hooked out of the stream.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYou okay?\u201d Witte asked. Hank never took a sick day, and while quiet and stand offish, never acted peculiar, either.\n<\/p>\n \nHank blinked some more, getting reoriented. He nodded, and Witte took out his climbing belt to top the tree.\n<\/p>\n \nHank stopped him. \u201cNo.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cNo?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cNo.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nWitte looked up at the tree then back at Hank. \u201cWhy?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nHank swallowed drily. How could he articulate what he knew — how <\/em>he knew it? A tribal native logger might claim to hear spirit voices, but Hank heard nothing.\n<\/p>\n \nAll he knew was\u2026he knew. <\/em>\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cWe just can\u2019t,\u201d he said.\n<\/p>\n \nWitte looked at him for a moment, then shrugged and started looping his climbing belt around the tree.\n<\/p>\n \nHank slapped the belt away.\n<\/p>\n \nWitte looked at him impassively. Other than the occasional arm wrestling match, nobody at the camp ever knew Hank to be physical, much less confrontational.\n<\/p>\n \nBut while Hank didn\u2019t threaten him, Witte could tell the bigger man wouldn\u2019t let him climb the tree.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cThe siderod ain\u2019t gonna like this,\u201d Witte said, referring to the camp\u2019s second in command.\n<\/p>\n \nHank shrugged, standing like a baseball player in the batter\u2019s box, waiting his turn at the plate. \u201cCan\u2019t help that,\u201d he said. \u201cBut we aren\u2019t chopping this tree down.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n \nTyree, the siderod, looked like a rat bastard.\n<\/p>\n \nThat\u2019s to say he resembled the short, thin metal file of that name, skinny and colorless, with hard rough edges.\n<\/p>\n \nIt took him less than ten minutes to confront Hank and Witte. \u201cWhy aren\u2019t you jackasses working? You got blanket fever?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cAsk him,\u201d Witte said, glad to excuse himself from the conversation.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cWe can\u2019t cut down this tree,\u201d Hank said.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cThe blazes we can\u2019t!\u201d Tyree said. He stood on the downhill slope, allowing Hank to tower over him even more than normal, but he never felt intimidated by the larger men working for him. \u201cQuit screwing around! Get that tree topped and down pronto.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI can\u2019t let you do that,\u201d said Hank.\n<\/p>\n \nTyree scowled at him. \u201cOkay, you\u2019re fired.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nHank shrugged: So be it.\n<\/p>\n \nTyree realized that despite being fired, Hank wouldn\u2019t move. \u201cGo down to the ink slinger, draw your pay, and hit the pike!\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cNo.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nTyree leaned back now, not in fear, but in careful consideration of how to proceed.\n<\/p>\n \nHe dealt with drunks and timber beasts before, but Hank seemed different.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cClear outta my camp,\u201d Tyree repeated, but he could tell Hank wouldn\u2019t move. \n\u201cBah!\u201d Tyree turned on his heel, marched down the hill, found five big buckers working on a felled tree, and sent them up to deal with Hank.\n<\/p>\n \nThe five all knew Hank, of course. Bunking months with the same crew made them pretty much family.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cHank,\u201d said Oleson, the eldest of the five, \u201cTyree say you gotta clear out.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nHank shook his head. He backed up against the tree so they couldn\u2019t get behind him. \u201cYou can take any other tree you want,\u201d Hank said, \u201cbut not this one.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nThe five advanced on him. When they were still two ax handles away, Hank swung his double-headed ax in a wide lazy arc at chest level.\n<\/p>\n \nA warning, a caution: Stay back.\n<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \n\u201cWhy this tree?\u201d Oleson asked. \u201cIt don\u2019t seem any different from all the rest.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nHank opened his mouth to explain, found he couldn\u2019t, and just shrugged. \u201cLeave it alone,\u201d he said. \u201cTake all the others. I\u2019ll even help you, just leave this — \u201c\n<\/p>\n \nWhile Tyree sent five buckers up the hill to confront Hank, he sent two more the long way around, to sneak up on Hank from behind.\n<\/p>\n \nThe thick trunk of the spruce hid them from view, the thick carpet of pine needles muffled their footsteps, the crashing of timber and the chopping of axes and the distance chugging of the steam donkey engine masked their approach.\n<\/p>\n \nThey jumped him and grabbed his ax, keeping him from swinging. Hank almost fought the two of them off, but Oleson and the other buckers rushed in as well, and in a few moments they disarmed him and pinned him down.\n<\/p>\n \nTyree came back up the hill to check out the situation. \u201cHe cooled off?\u201d he asked Oleson. The siderod was a hard man but fair; all he wanted was Hank gone, not roughed up.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYou okay, Hank?\u201d Oleson asked. Hank didn\u2019t move or say anything for a moment, then nodded.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cOkay, we\u2019re gonna let you up,\u201d said Oleson. \u201cYou don\u2019t swing at nobody, okay?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nHank nodded again.\n<\/p>\n \nThey let him up. As he brushed the pine needles off his shirt and jeans, Tyree said, \u201cGo see the ink slinger and draw your pay. Witte!\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYo!\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cStart topping that tree.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nWitte glanced anxiously at Hank but Hank didn\u2019t look in his direction.\n<\/p>\n \nAs the topper got his rigging ready, the buckers escorted Hank down to the camp clerk.\n<\/p>\n \nOleson explained the situation to the clerk. The ink slinger couldn\u2019t have cared less: Men got fired all the time for all sorts of reasons.\n<\/p>\n \nHe drew out Hank\u2019s pay and handed it to him.\n<\/p>\n \nOutside the office, Oleson asked: \u201cYou gonna be okay?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYeah. I\u2019ll go to my bunk, get my stuff. I\u2019ll catch the mail boat back.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nOleson eyed him carefully, then stuck out his big, calloused hand. \u201cYou watch out for yourself, Hank.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI will.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nThey shook hands, and Oleson went back up the hill with the other buckers while Hank headed towards the bunk tents.\n<\/p>\n \nOnly Hank didn\u2019t go to the bunk tents.\n<\/p>\n \nHank went to the tool shed and got five axes. He carried them up the hill, taking the long way around so Oleson and Witte and Tyree wouldn\u2019t see him.\n<\/p>\n \nBy the time he reached the spruce, Witte already topped the branches. Curly, another tree faller, chopped away at the second notch on the spruce\u2019s trunk, the first one already cut deep enough to topple the tree when Curly finished on the opposite side.\n<\/p>\n \nHank threw an axe at Curly. It sank into the bark with a meaty thump<\/em> about two feet above Curly\u2019s bald head.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cHoly humpin\u2019 Hannah!\u201d Curly yelled, then saw Hank approaching with an ax in each hand.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cGit!\u201d Hank yelled, and Curly got.\n<\/p>\n \nAs Curly\u2019s cry \u201cAll hands and the whiskey-jacks!\u201d echoed through the hills, Hank set his two axes against the trunk of the tree then picked up the two he dropped while throwing the first.\n<\/p>\n \nAlong with that one and the ax Curly abandoned when he scrambled down the hill, Hank now possessed six bladed weapons.\n<\/p>\n \nIt didn\u2019t take Curly long to return with Tyree and Oleson and Witte and the rest of the camp.\n<\/p>\n \nEvery logger broke off their work when they heard Curly shout the logger distress call.\n<\/p>\n \nThey followed Tyree up the hill to see what Crazy Hank — his new name stuck instantly — would do next.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cThere he is!\u201d Curly said. \u201cHe tried to brain me with an ax!\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nTyree marched forward, jaw grimly set. Hank hurled two axes at him, each passing about a foot on either side of him.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cAre you crazy? Are you trying to kill somebody?\u201d the siderod roared.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cHe isn\u2019t crazy,\u201d Oleson yelled. \u201cWe all seen Hank at ax throwing contests. He was warning you.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nWitte nodded. \u201cIf he wanted, he\u2019d \u2018a split your forehead down the middle.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nTyree, albeit a tough boss, knew not to press his luck.\n<\/p>\n \nHank didn\u2019t have any real friends in the camp, but then again, he made no enemies either. Forcing a confrontation now might get somebody hurt and could stir up dissent in the camp.\n<\/p>\n \nAnd with the low wages the company paid, Tyree needed no further dissent among the loggers.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cWitte! Go down to the mail boat. Take it to town, fetch the sheriff, bring him here with a couple of deputies.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cThey probably can\u2019t get here until morning,\u201d Witte said.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cThey won\u2019t get here any sooner if you don\u2019t quit jawing so move!\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nWitte hurried down the hill to the mail boat.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cOleson, you and your boys ring this tree tonight,\u201d Tyree said. \u201cDon\u2019t get too close to him, but don\u2019t let him sneak off without warning us.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cOkay, boss,\u201d said Oleson.\n<\/p>\n \nTyree looked at the rapidly fading light. \u201cThe rest of you, back to work! You still got a good half hour of sunlight left.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n \nNight fell.\n<\/p>\n \nThe rest of the loggers returned their tools to the sheds then hit the mess hall.\n<\/p>\n \nThe forest at early evening lay quiet and still enough for Oleson and his team to hear the others laugh and talk way down in the camp.\n<\/p>\n \nTyree sent a crumb boss up with some lunch buckets of grub for Oleson and the others as well as blankets for the night.\n<\/p>\n \nThey didn\u2019t offer Hank any, of course.\n<\/p>\n \nHank sat at the base of the spruce, back against the rough bark, wondering what to do.\n<\/p>\n \nThe spruce couldn\u2019t be saved, not now.\n<\/p>\n \nWhile the notches Curly chopped weren\u2019t deep enough to fell the tree, they effectively girdled it, destroying the bark system that carried water and nutrients up the trunk.\n<\/p>\n \nWitte topping the tree also threatened it, but the girdling did the more immediate harm.\n<\/p>\n \nHank wondered if he could save the tree by shoving some of the hunks of wood Curly chopped loose back in the notches then try putting pieces of bark over that.\n<\/p>\n \nHe sighed, recognizing it was useless.\n<\/p>\n \nWhile he hadn\u2019t cried since he was a child, he felt his eyes burn and water.\n<\/p>\n \nTo find the tree where his mother lay buried, and then to lose it\u2026\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI can\u2019t help you,\u201d he murmured to the tree, his voice hot and constricted. \u201cI can\u2019t, I can\u2019t\u2026\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nHe felt light fingers running through his hair as if to comfort him.\n<\/p>\n \nThey weren\u2019t fingers or anything supernatural.\n<\/p>\n \nThe breeze started picking up, no storm brewing, but promising a rough and windy night. It ruffled his hair and plucked at his clothes.\n<\/p>\n \nHank instantly worried about the tree. The trunk\u2019s structural integrity, badly compromised by Curly\u2019s notches, might not withstand a strong wind.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d Hank told the tree, \u201cbut I can\u2019t do anything except sit here and say goodbye.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nAgain, he didn\u2019t hear it, he didn\u2019t feel it, he just knew that his mother understood, and knowing that rolled a big, heavy weight off his heart.\n<\/p>\n \nHe didn\u2019t feel happy, of course, but he did feel a sense of\u2026well, not exactly peace, but more like fulfillment; a sense that he\u2019d done everything he possibly could do.\n<\/p>\n \nThe wind picked up during the night, and as Hank feared, it brought the tree down.\n<\/p>\n \nCurly\u2019s notches didn\u2019t cut deep enough for the tree to topple quickly, but as the wind pressed against it, it slowly began leaning downhill.\n<\/p>\n \nA fast falling tree would break clean at the notches, leaving a stump.\n<\/p>\n \nBut the damaged spruce didn\u2019t fall fast; it bent in the wind, gradually leaning over, and as it leaned relentlessly putting greater and greater pressure on its wide but shallow root system.\n<\/p>\n \nHank felt the ground rising beneath him, and realized what was happening.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cOleson, look out!\u201d he yelled, but Oleson and his crew already scrambled to get out of the way of the huge tree.\n<\/p>\n \nAs the tree uprooted itself, it flung Hank over backwards, rolling him down the hill.\n<\/p>\n \nBefore he could get up, Oleson and his men jumped him, pinning him down.\n<\/p>\n \nThis time they took no chances and tied him tightly with ropes.\n<\/p>\n \n \nThe sheriff arrived soon after dawn in the mail boat, and Tyree led him up the hill to where Oleson and the others kept Hank.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cSorry to drag you up here,\u201d Tyree said. \u201cBut the fight\u2019s gone outta him. We could have taken care of him ourselves.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cWell, I\u2019m here, I\u2019ll take him in,\u201d said the sheriff. He nudged Hank with his boot. \u201cWhatcha got to say for yourself, young fella?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nHank shrugged. \u201cI\u2019ll go quietly.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cUn-huh,\u201d said the sheriff. \u201cMaybe you will, and maybe you won\u2019t. What say we just put you in cuffs until the judge can — \u201c\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cTyree! Sheriff! Look!\u201d yelled Curly.\n<\/p>\n \nOn the other side of the tree, Curly pointed to a skeleton entangled in the now exposed roots. \u201cSo that\u2019s why he didn\u2019t want anybody chopping down this tree,\u201d Curly said. \u201cHe was afraid somebody would find the person he murdered.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cWho is that?\u201d the sheriff asked Hank.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cMy mother,\u201d said Hank.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYour mother?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nHank drew in a deep breath. Somehow it felt easier to tell the story now.\n<\/p>\n \nHe explained about his mother and his father, and about how he just knew she lay beneath this tree.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cThat\u2019s the biggest hunk of hooey I ever heard,\u201d said Curly.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cOh?\u201d said the sheriff. \u201cWhy would he come back here?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI thought criminals always returned to the scene of the crime\u2026\u201d Curly said, slowly realizing how dumb his accusation sounded.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cIf they did, my job would be a lot easier,\u201d said the sheriff. \u201cHe\u2019d have been a million miles away if he killed her. No reason to hang around and get caught.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nHe looked at Hank, and said, \u201cWhat\u2019s your full name?\n<\/p>\n \nAnd Hank told him and the sheriff nodded. \u201cYup, that\u2019s right. I worked on that case back when I first became a deputy. His old man never did say what he did with her.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cMust\u2019ve dragged her up here, give her a burial under a tree, maybe to hide her body, maybe give her a place to rest in peace after what he done.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nThe sheriff nodded to Oleson. \u201cYou can untie him, now. I\u2019ll take him back with me, but I figure he ain\u2019t gonna give us any more trouble, right, fella?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cNo trouble,\u201d said Hank.\n<\/p>\n \nBefore they left, he gathered up some pine cones that fell from the tree when Witte topped it.\n<\/p>\n \nLogging didn\u2019t pay much, but Hank spent little of what he earned; most of it sat in a bank, drawing interest for the day he needed it.\n<\/p>\n \nHe needed it now.\n<\/p>\n \nHe didn\u2019t know what exactly he would do next, but he knew he had enough to buy himself a small plot of land, maybe a couple of acres, where he could live out his days.\n<\/p>\n \nLive out his days, and grow spruce trees.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" He never saw his mother again after that night. He never saw his father, either, except for news photos of the trial. The sheriff assumed his father dumped her body in the river, and though deputies spent weeks dredging and searching, they never found it. His father never said what he did with her corpse, …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":106819,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,19941],"tags":[19942],"class_list":["post-137639","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction","category-tcl-33-autumn-2019","tag-the-colored-lens-33-autumn-2019","entry entry-center"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/137639","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/106819"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=137639"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/137639\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":137640,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/137639\/revisions\/137640"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=137639"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=137639"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=137639"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\n
\nHank shook his head.\n<\/p>\n
\n
\n