Part Eighty-Six: A Timely Twist From Trish

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Chapter dedicated to @Next_JK_Rowling and her two gripping action, adventure thrillers, "Errand Runners' and 'Oblivion."

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A Timely Twist from Trish!

A/N: This chapter might appear to be a departure from the main story, but this is not a lineal tale and has more characters than Greg and Jess: It's important to stay abreast of the others for when all  the disparate strands come together. Enjoy:

 

The route from Bamptonville to Larksville must rank as one of the most wearisome journeys a driver is likely to encounter anywhere in Nebraska. Once the chicken sheds are left behind at the north end of Bamptonville there is little to relieve the monotony of the vast acreages of growing wheat, sorghum and corn other than occasional sights of cattle or sheep grazing on patches of open range or small plantations of coniferous trees. The road ahead stretches to the visible horizon in an apparent never ending straight and dusty line. 

In several places along the way the road rises above the surrounding plains, but mostly it runs on the same level. There are no dwellings and only occasional dry-earth tracks leading off the road to east and west give evidence of any habitation at wherever these trails might end. 

The chance of meeting another person or vehicle is remote. This is a mind-numbing run for any driver at anytime; and for one seeking solutions to pressing problems, mistakes can so easily happen. 

Trish Conalty’s mind was in turmoil owing to the recent events at Fawley’s and their likely consequences for her, Walt and the business itself. She was also angry with Mitt Fawley, and driving a little too fast to her date that night; mumbling to herself and not noticing her speed until she missed the turn off.

“Dammit,” she screeched, changing down through the gears to slow the vehicle before stamping on the brake to bring it to a rapid stop and commence backing up in a more careful and sedate manner.

The road to the small township of Pisa is easily missed at any time, especially if you didn’t know it is there or if one is distracted. It comes up suddenly, as a gap between two stands of conifers; passing through them in a north-easterly direction. A home-made wooden arm, leaning to one side, with peeling, once white paint stands half covered with weed growth just three feet high above the ground to give direction with the single word ‘PISA’.

Once abreast of the junction Trish swung the rear of the car to head into the turn-off and continued her journey. “Damn the man. Just who does he think he is?....after all the trouble we had getting’ rid of Grozier last month, the ape  goes and takes him back fer no good reason, and WITH A RAISE...God help us.”

Nobody visits the small township of Pisa in Buffalo County any more. Most people know it’s there, but nobody talks about it. It is of no consequence any longer. There’s nothing much to go there for now that the Saw-Mill, Creamery and the rail branch line from Ravenna have closed. The people in the town and surrounding farmsteads only come outside when absolutely necessary. There’s little traffic along the road into town, delivery trucks and the school-bus taking the few kids from Pisa into school in Bamptonville are the daily norm. The fact that the town is a half-mile closer to Bamptonville means the kids go there instead of the larger, more modern school at Larksville.

The conifers end after a mile and the road passes once again through open range with some fields of crops and pasture, but is a more interesting drive since it twists and turns to follow the River Rein: a stream really, twelve feet wide and a tributary of the Loup river. There is one hairpin bend a mile from the town that skirts a sharp dogleg in the river upon which grows a majestic oak of massive girth. 

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