Jack Taylor was the luckiest son of a gun in Diffle County. He grew up poor because his daddy was Billy Taylor. Billy drank from job to job and often when the rent was due, Billy wasn't ready to pay it. By the time Jack was fifteen, he, his mom and his sister had made several midnight moves to new rentals just ahead of the County Sheriff. They often kept their belongings in trash bags, piled in the closets at the ready for the next moving adventure. Folks around town would often remark that Jack will one day be drinking whiskey "from the same bar stool his father sits on". You know how that runs in the family.
If history was the only judge, those town gossips would be right. Johnathan "Jack" Taylor's grandfather Buck T. Taylor died in a freak accident when he drove while intoxicated into the town square and his head and heart were pierced by General Grant's sword. Buck's F-150 hit the statue base with such force, General Grant and his horse were both knocked backwards off the pedestal (which was concreted in just a week prior by Mallard Brothers Contracting "Why hire a quack when you can hire a Mallard"). Grant's sword once held high against the Southern advance penetrated the black truck's roof, then the sword roughly ran through Buck T. Taylor, and lodged into the seat underneath him. It took the fire company 4 hours to remove both sides of his body. The sword was replaced with a dull stainless blade with the words inscribed in fine print: Zero Tolerance.
Buck T. Taylor's death wasn't without irony. Buck's great grandfather William S. Taylor was a Captain in the 23rd Calvary and fought under Grant and even once drank the old General under the table. That was at The Grand Hotel Gettysburg where both were staying just before the big battle. Grant later became President. William S.Taylor died at Gettysburg on the first day of battle. That is how fate accomplishes its mission in our lives- some have cream with their coffee while others get creamed after their coffee.
Captain William S. Taylor had made a fortune before the war betting on tobacco futures. He and his wife, unable to bear children, created a trust for the money and that trust grew and grew. After he died his wife Anne opened a women's clothing shop on Main Street. Anne had strong religious beliefs and could not tolerate drunkenness and addictions of the flesh, and she knew her husband's brother would squander the family fortune on booze and women if the trust went to him. She revised the Trust to skip two generations of Taylors and if there were no Taylors left by then, the trust would be donated to the Methodist Church.
On his Eighteenth birthday, Jack Taylor received a letter from "The Estate of William S. and Anne R.Taylor" requesting he meet with Estate's Executor, Attorney Ralph Handover. He ignored it. A month later, the doorbell rang and twenty minutes later Jack Taylor signed the legal papers and was handed a very large check which represented 5 percent of his total fortune. He kept the remaining monies invested and hired Attorney Ralph Handover to manage the portfolio. He also stopped drinking. After his meeting with Attorney Handover Jack Taylor poured a case of beer down the toilet and never again touched another drop of alcoholic beverage.
One month later Jack moved his mother and sister into a home he bought for them. The house was fully furnished. Each bedroom had its own walk-in closet, private bathroom, and a dresser, of course.
"No more plastic bags." Jack said to his mother.
He also paid the rent for one year for his father. That was the last time he helped his dad.
For himself? Jack Taylor bought two hundred and fifty four acres of mostly prime wooded upland in Grinold Township, Diffle County, PA. from Johnathan Shenk Et. Al. The land was bordered by Rabbit Mountain Road to the North, Diffle County Parkland to the South, Lester and Kathy Holmes to the West, and the Red Rodeo Subdivision to the East. A small stream, Rabbit Run, follows the Red Rodeo Subdivision running North to South. Here is a basic map:
John Shenk owned a car dealership in Nutter County. It was a dumpy looking dealership. John Shenk didn't care. He loved his cars, his beer, and his loyal customers. If your kid needed a dependable car to get through college and you asked John Shenk and he would go to the next auction, find a cheap, dependable car and then sell it to you at cost. 300 bucks, 400 bucks and your kid had a car you could trust. So when it was time to buy a new car, you went to Shenks Auto and you paid more for your car. You didn't haggle, you didn't do comparison shopping. Shenk took care of you so when it was time, you took care of John Shenk.
John owned a large property on Rabbit Mountain Road. It was where he went to hunt, to drink, to hide, to cry, to laugh, to escape the garage, the sales, and his sister Betty who co-owned the dealership. He loved the woods, the stream, and he built dirt roads along the entire boundary so he could drive all the way around. it's easy to get lost on two hundred and fifty four acres. John Shenk got more lost every day. One day, John, a short, stocky man with a broad nose and a kind smile, drove into the woods with a six pack of Reading Premium and a 22 caliber snake pistol. He parked near the Southern boundary at a wooden bridge crossing over Rabbit Run. He walked onto the bridge which was nothing more than 4 telephone poles from bank to bank with 2' x 12' planks nailed on top.
John Shenk sat with his six-pack and hung his feet over the side and just relaxed. He didn't notice Momma black bear with her cubs walking to the bridge. He downed his last beer. He didn't notice the cubs until they walked up and sniffed and batted his empty beer cans off the bridge. Then he jumped up quick with alarm, and being beer balance-challenged, he fell forward on top of one of the cubs. The screaming cub ran back to his Momma who stood up and roared with rage.
John Shenk pulled his snake pistol and shot Momma with every bullet in the gun as she charged him. He backed up to the edge of the bridge as he fired his tiny gun , then he tripped, falling backwards into the stream where the back of his head hit a large rock. John laid there, not moving. Momma bear leaped off the bridge and landed on top of him. She pressed her nose into his face, teeth bared, and then she paused. She sniffed. She nudged. Then she walked away. John Shenk averted a bear attack. He played dead. and he did it better than most because he was already dead when Momma bear landed on him.
The very last time John Shenk saw the world, he witnessed this: Tree branches reaching right up to bright blue, white puffy-clouded sky and in the foreground: a giant black bear, completely airborne, her arms and legs spread wide with her claws extended and her teeth bared, no more than five feet directly above him. John Shenk's last thought? I wish I had a camera. No one will ever believe this. He smiled and drew in his last sweet breath on Earth.
Two months after his death, John's sister sold half the property to Red Rodeo Land Consulting. The other half she kept for another ten years until Jack Taylor made her an offer she couldn't refuse.
Diffle County is fiction as are all its characters- they are fiction. Any resemblance to real folk is certainly not intended and purely coincidental.
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