“What do you mean you can’t? Hell, Ben, if you can’t cut down one tree, I have other crews on the county’s approved list that’ll do it.”
“You ain’t listenin’, Turner. My crew is there. We were dropping it this mornin’ ‘cause it’ll take most of the day to get it chopped and loaded. I said they can’t start because of the old man.”
“What old man?”
“There’s some old feller that’s standin’ in front of it… said he owns the tree and ain’t nobody gonna cut it down.”
“Your whole crew can’t move one little old man?”
Ben responded in anger.
“No, Turner, they can’t. You work for the county. Nobody can sue your ass! I own my business. My guys put their hands on some old man and he breaks a hip, he’ll sue me out o’ my underwear.”
Turner rolled up the papers that were spread across his tailgate. He got in and drove to the site. He was furious. Rain had put him a week behind on clearing this stretch of the new road. Now the ground was finally dry enough to start dozing but one tree stood in the way.
When he arrived, Ben’s crew was standing to the side. At the base of the huge oak stood an old man in overalls and a flannel shirt. The guy appeared to around eighty. He was leaning on a cane. Turner’s second man, Tommy, walked up to the truck window. Tommy had a great way of getting to the point.
“Old man’s name is Graves. When the county took this land, it included this stretch at the back corner of the old man’s farm. He fought it but lost in court. Legally, we can have the sheriff move the old man. If you do that you should do it now. One of the neighbors has already called local TV. You don’t want this on the six o’clock news.”
Turner shook his head, “So all of this is because…”
Tommy interrupted, “There’s more. I talked to this lady who has been his neighbor for fifty years. Here’s the rest of the story. About forty years ago the old man lived on this farm with his wife. One day, she ran off with the old man’s best friend. They left in the middle of the night and never came back. The old man lost his mind. Never remarried, almost never leaves his farm. If you look close there’s a heart carved in the bark with the name ‘Mary’ in it. Neighbors say the old guy comes out here a lot and just sits by the tree. So, this ain’t just about the tree to that old man.”
Turner looked at two bulldozers sitting in the field, then at Ben’s crew standing by their bucket truck. He got out of the pickup, slamming the door behind him.
“I don’t need the sheriff. The county owns it now, he’s trespassing. Ben, you come with me.”
The two walked up to the old man. His face was haggard, but he had piercing blue eyes. Turner wasted no time on introductions.
“Mr. Graves, the county owns this land and this tree. Ben and his crew are gonna cut this tree down. You can walk out of the way, or we will carry you out of the way… you decide.”
The old man’s voice was soft as a whisper.
“But this is my Mary’s tree.” Tears filled his eyes. The old man sighed, looking down as he walked away. He leaned on his cane a safe distance from the tree, turning to watch as the chainsaw came to life. Moments later, Ben called to his crew as he cut aggressively through the massive trunk.
“Watch out, this thing is hollow. It can twist it could fall any damn where!”
At that moment, cracking sounds caused Ben to drop his saw and run as the huge oak twisted then fell to the ground. Ben walked back to the tree.
“Turner, come here. Tell everybody else to stay back.”
“Why?”
Ben didn’t answer. Turner walked toward him but stopped when he saw the two skeletons crumpled together in the gnarled stump.
About the Author Rick Hansard
Rick Hansard placed 3rd in the Napkin Microfiction contest in May 2021 with his winning micro piece The Oak. Rick won the $100 cash prize which he generously gifted back to Indie It Press for the next contest. Thank you, Rick!
Rick Hansard loves short stories and poetry. He self-published two children’s books that tell stories about a young boy who finds adventure using his imagination. Written in poetic verse and containing colorful illustrations, they will make a nice addition to a parent’s library of bedtime tales. Rick has a large collection of mixed genre works he hopes to publish soon.
The Midday Adventures of Charley McDoogle and Charley McDoogle’s Christmas Adventure are available at Barnes and Noble and online at Amazon.
“It thrilled me that Indie It Press selected my Napkin Microfiction story as a Top 10 Submission. Like all amateur authors, my greatest fear isn’t that my works are not good. My greatest fear is that my works might very well be good, but that no one will ever read them. Thank you Indie It Press!”
Rick Hansard, Author
