The Rest of the Story Ch.5

After the old man had finished telling his story, I looked over at him and could see in his eyes a bit of relief. I asked him if anyone else knew about the grave sites and what had happened. He told me that I was the only person in the world that new about any of this. He said that he tried to tell his late wife when he was younger, but the deeper he got into the story he could see that his wife was really getting worried, so he told her he was just telling a story, and left it at that.
It was getting later in the evening and the air was cooling a little. The cool breeze felt good after such an intense hour of stories.
I had a million questions running through my mind but for some reason didn't ask any of them. I just stood there with the old man looking at a small pile of brown sandstone rocks. Part of me wondered if there really was a body under the rocks, but given the circumstances I was pretty sure there was.
After a minute of silence the old man looked up at me and asked me what I was going to do about what I had heard. I paused for a minute and asked him what he meant. He said, "Well, are you going to turn me in?"
I hadn't really thought about it, but it dawned on me that this man was making a confession to a murder. Or was it a murder? Was I under the obligation as a responsible citizen to turn the old man in?
I paused for a few seconds and looked at the old man and asked him what he thought I should do.
He kind of smiled and said,"Why don't you keep it under your hat until I die. I've only got a couple of years left in me and would rather not spend them in court or in jail."
I looked at the old feeble man and in my mind decided that I would keep the story under my hat for the time being.
I told the man that he didn't have to loose any sleep over this and I would keep quiet. The old man smile and said; "Good. Lets get back to your truck, I have got more to show you.
As we walked back to my pickup truck about mid-way I let the old man take my arm because he was visibly struggling with the walk. I joked with him about him hanging in there because I didn't want to have to dig a third grave. He stopped and looked at me and got a serious look in his eye and said: "You mean a fourth grave?" In my mind I thought, Oh crap, this guy has killed more people. The old man then smiled and said "I had you going there." I saw that he was joking and felt relieved that there were no more graves.
After about five minutes of walking, we arrived at my truck and I helped the old man into it. I shut his door and walked around and climbed into my side. It was warm in the truck and the old man struggled with the window as he manually rolled it down. I did the same.
"Where to boss?" I said.
The old man smiled and with a little more life in his tone said: "To the good stuff!" and pointed to the area where I had seen the black circle in the side of the hill as I stood positioned on the stone with the crazy markings.
"Can you get us close in this truck?" the old man said. I looked at the old man and nodded. "I can get you anywhere in Big Red." I told him, referring to my old Red Chevy 4x4.
The old man reached behind him and struggled with the seat belt until he got it around him. I left mine off.
As I started driving the old man broke off into another story.
"After I buried that guy I was so sick that I just wanted to lay down, right in the rocks and die. I was partially covered in blood and dust and even a little vomit. I felt not only dirty on the outside but dirty on the inside. I decided to try to get home and cleaned up before my family came out looking for me. So I headed back. It was the most miserable walk I had ever taken. It was after noon and the son was high and hot. Flies started buzzing around me and I was smelling pretty bad. As I passed the creek I stopped and jumped into the deepest whole I could find. I even left my boots on because they needed cleaning. I scrubbed everything in that creek. I hadn't realised how much blood I had on me until I noticed that the water was visibly holding a red tint. I pulled my pants off and scrubbed until I couldn't see anymore blood.
After I finally got to where I felt clean I climbed out of the creek and walked the remaining quarter mile back home only to walk in sopping wet to Sunday dinner.
Every one was sitting at the table My Mom, Dad, and little sisters. My dad was the first to ask me where I had been. I just stood there and didn't say anything. I knew that I wouldn't be able to talk without crying. I looked at my Mother and little sisters and the innocence in their eyes and that made me want to cry even more. So I just stood there. I wanted so bad to just say everything to tell them what happened. I wanted my parents to give me hug and tell me it would be alright. I would feel better if I just let it out.
Just as I was about to say something my Father stood up and said "Boy, don't think that because you wanted to fake sick and to stay home and go swimming that you can sit down and eat Sunday dinner with us. You go get some dry clothes on and go out and start cleaning the corrals."
Without saying anything I went to my room, changed my clothes and went out to clean the corrals.
I was glad to not have to sit down and try to keep my composure. I was especially glad that I could get into some dry clothes and have a little time to think.
As I shoveled manure I decided that no matter what I could tell no one. I knew that if I really wanted to keep a secret I could trust no one with it. So I locked it up.
That night as finished up the corrals my dad came out to inspect the job. He told me to go in and get a bite to eat and go to bed."
After the old man finished telling the story, I watched him as he stared out the window. I could tell that he was reliving the old days over in his mind so I didn't say anything. I just kept driving to the hill side.