For years, Ryan Clark had allowed himself three cigarettes a day. He couldn’t quite break himself of the habit, but figured at that level he couldn’t be hurting himself too bad. As people were milling around just before dinner, Ryan said to his son, "Hey, you want to join me for my evening weed?"

"Yeah, I might as well," Randy agreed. He smoked about three a week and he was behind average, but realized that what Ryan really wanted was to talk alone for a minute.

In the summer Ryan usually had his cigarette out behind the garage where there was a nice little patio, but in the winter the garage itself got pressed into service. It was chilly out there, but the air was still enough for the smoke from the cigarettes to rise into the air without being blown around; neither of them said much, until Ryan finally said softly, "Did you ever hear such a crock of shit in your life?"

"Well, not since college," Randy admitted. "And I tried to not hang around with those kinds of people. I don’t know how Rachel puts up with it."

"I don’t either," Ryan shook his head. "Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to see anything bad happen to her, but it sure wouldn’t break my heart to see that little bastard get his butt shot off if it didn’t involve her. I don’t think he has any idea of the kinds of risks he’s running or the shit he’s talking."

"The hell of it is that he’s not alone," Randy said. "There’s a lot of people like him running around, especially out in California, and it sounds to me like they fill each other’s ears so full of shit that they really believe it."

"Again I have to go back to talking about Wayne Clark," Ryan replied thoughtfully. "Now, what I know about him mostly comes through Dad, who always said that on some levels Wayne was so full of shit it was unbelievable, but in other things, especially his business dealings, he got most things pretty right. His ethic, which I always followed, was take care of your people and they’ll take care of you. Joel seems to think the best thing to do with your people is to screw them for all you can, then get the hell out so they can’t hurt you. Hell, I think Wayne would have kicked his ass himself."

"I thought several times about breaking his head," Randy said. "But that’s not what I got my black belts for, and it wouldn’t have done any good anyway."

"Wayne wouldn’t have had that kind of restraint, on a personal level, anyway," Ryan mused, "Which at times may not have been all bad. Actually, I’m glad we had this afternoon with him. It clarified several things in my own mind."

"Such as?"

"Such as we’re going to have to be careful about some things, especially those that could involve him. I still don’t want to say anything until after Wednesday, since what happens then could change my thinking a little, but we’re going to have a long talk after that’s over with."

"About him and the company?"

"Well, yeah," Ryan said. "But Rachel gets into it, too."

"I wonder if Ruth found out anything," Randy said.

"What’s this?"

"Ruth has the idea that something’s not right with Rachel. Ruth said that Rachel hadn’t said anything specific earlier, but that maybe there’s something between the lines to read. She wouldn’t tell me what she thinks it is, but wanted to sound Rachel out about it. I think that’s what they did this afternoon."

"Interesting," Ryan said. "I didn’t know that. If you find out anything let me know."

By the time dinner was over with, Randy and Nicole had about all of Joel they could take, and it was pretty clear that Ruth and Dave also felt about the same way. Fortunately, Mike and Abby were acting a little bit cranky, which gave everyone a perfect excuse to head back over to Randy and Nicole’s house in Hannegan’s Cove. The kids weren’t really acting that bad, but the excuse was worth it; they settled right down when Nicole put a Disney video into the DVD player for them.

While everyone else was watching the video, Randy took the time to call over to Trey and Myleigh’s house. Myleigh was home, unusual for her on a Monday – she had a tiny apartment down near Weatherford that she stayed in by herself on Monday and Tuesday evenings to cut down on the driving back and forth, especially in the winter months. She reported that everyone was doing fine, and that preparations were well in hand for the family-sized funeral dinner set for the next evening. In fact, Crystal and Preach mostly were the ones pulling it together; they were used to preparing big, open-ended meals working with nothing much more than a warped griddle and a gas burner down in the Canyon, and figured that it was going to be a snap in Randy and Nicole’s kitchen. It was good to just talk with Myleigh a bit, to remind himself that he didn’t have to put up with people like Joel all the time.

Randy hadn’t been off the phone thirty seconds when it rang, almost in his ear. Now what, he thought as he picked it up again. It proved to be his father. "Just one damn thing after another," Ryan told him. "I just got a phone call, and it turns out we’re going to be short a minister for the service tomorrow."

"Something come up?" Randy asked. While Reverend O’Conner was technically the family minister, Randy and Nicole only rarely went to church at the Spearfish Lake First United Methodist Church, at least partly because they didn’t particularly like the minister that the diocese had assigned there.

"Well, legitimate this time," Ryan said. "He found a patch of ice, fell down, and is in the hospital in Camden with a broken leg."

"Would you believe that I know a Baptist minister who I could easily talk into doing the service?" Randy snickered.

"I had the same idea but I thought it might be better if you asked him," Ryan said. "Preach would do a better job than that O’Conner creep anyway."

"OK, I’ll slide over and ask," Randy said. "I need to get out for a minute anyway."

"Good enough," Ryan said. "O’Conner didn’t know Dad anyway, and I don’t think he ever even met him. They offered to have some guy come up from Albany River, but I thought that Preach had at least met Dad sometime or other."

"I know he did, not for long, but he did," Randy agreed. "I think it was when they were here for Thanksgiving the year before last."

"Good enough. Any word on the other thing we talked about?"

"Not yet, and I don’t think there’ll be anything till the kids are down," Randy told him. "I’ll go have a word with Preach and get back to you."

"That’ll be fine. I guess I’d better go back and be nice."

Randy took a moment to explain to Nicole and the others what had happened, then got on his coat and walked up the street. It was clear and cold out there, with the sun long down. He could see his breath in front of him as he walked, and the stars were like pinpoints overhead. It was nice to just be out, despite the cold. In only a few minutes, he was knocking on the side door at Myleigh and Trey’s house.

It only took a minute to explain the situation to Preach, with everyone else looking on. "Sure, it’s been a while since I’ve done a funeral, but I’ll be glad to do it," Preach said. "I have to say, after your father’s off-the-cuff eulogy the other night I found myself thinking about what I would say if I were asked to do it. I really probably ought to sit down and have a few words with your father, but I could do it in the morning."

"Why don’t you just call him and work something out?" Randy said. "I feel like I’m in the middle on this one."

"Sure, sounds like a good idea," Preach said. "Why don’t I call him right now?"

"Good enough," Randy replied, giving him the number. "I’ll go harass everyone else for a couple minutes while you do."

Preach headed to the kitchen to use the phone while Randy took a minute to talk with the people in the living room. They didn’t talk about anything significant but it was nice to have the reminder that they were there. "Sorry this is eating into the time we can spend with you, Crystal," he said after a moment.

"That’s all right, it can’t be helped," she said. "Hey, thanks for asking Preach to do that. I don’t think he wants to be a regular minister again, but it’s nice when he can do something that touches on it once in a while."

"I have no doubt that he can do a better job than that joker we have at the Methodist Church," Randy shook his head. "Methodist preachers are like streetcars. If you miss one there’ll be another one along pretty soon."

"I think that’s part of why Preach doesn’t want to do it as a regular thing," she said. "You get yourself established in the community, and then you’re gone. It’s one thing to be a little footloose, but it’s another thing to have to build things up and then tear them up right away. Don’t get me wrong, I love Preach as he is, but I don’t think I could be a minister’s wife."

"Well, I never thought so either. I think that’s why you and he surprised everybody."

"I keep telling people that it surprises me as much as anyone," Crystal snickered. "But I’m not complaining."

In a couple minutes Preach came back from the kitchen. "Well, that’s worked out," he said. "I’ll have to get with your dad during the day tomorrow and spend a few minutes getting things set up at the funeral home, but it shouldn’t be a big deal."

"Good enough," Randy said. "I guess I’d better get heading back. We’re going to have to get together when all this stuff is over with and get back to some serious visiting."

"This stuff happens, Randy," Preach said. "We understand. Don’t put yourself out over it."

Randy would have been tempted to hang around Trey and Myleigh’s for a while, but with Dave and Ruth at his house he knew he had to be heading back, so soon was walking back up the cold street toward home.

The strength of the cold air cleared his mind to some extent, to a point where he realized he felt the foreboding of distant troubles, probably involving Joel and Rachel. There was no doubt that he disliked Joel and with good cause, but there was something else there, something he couldn’t put his finger on, and that something probably involved why his father was being so secretive about what was going to happen in the session with the lawyer Wednesday. His father clearly knew a lot more than he let on, and if Randy had to guess it would be that Joel was involved somehow. But, the more he thought about it, the more he thought that Ruth might be right when she said something wasn’t right with Rachel. From what he recalled of the afternoon before, her reticence gave him the same disquieting feeling. Well, hopefully Mike and Abby would be asleep before too much longer and he might learn something.

The kids had been asleep for a while, and the adults were gathered around the kitchen table when Randy was able to raise the issue with Ruth. "She didn’t really say a lot," Ruth reported. "And there was a limit to how much I was willing to pry. But, she told me more than she told me in words, if you know what I mean. I got the same feeling I get when I see a dog with its tail between its legs. She’s scared, and I think it’s Joel she’s scared of."

"You think he’s been hitting her or something?" Randy said, his hackles rising and his voice turning ominous. "If he is, I might have a word with him about that."

"Right before you feed him to the wolves, right?" Ruth nodded, without a trace of humor in her voice.

"Something like that," Randy replied flatly. "We really do have wolves around here now."

"Randy, if I knew that, I’d tell you, and then I’d stay out of your way," Ruth replied. "But I don’t know that and Rachel didn’t say anything of the sort. But she’s scared of him, and she’s scared for Jared, as well. But it might not be anything physical."

"He talked a hell of a good battle this afternoon," Dave observed. "Considering that he’s full of shit to the eyeballs. Maybe he’s just strapped six ways from Sunday and trying to bluff his way through. She might know it and be afraid to say anything."

"Well," Randy replied, the flash of anger he’d had dying back a little but by no means extinguished, "I could sure believe it, with the line of bullshit he was feeding us this afternoon. I said right at the beginning that if you play with fire like that sooner or later you get burned. But that’s a little different than being downright abusive, although I wouldn’t put it past him. He strikes me as the sort of guy who would blame everyone but himself."

"I never figured out what she saw in him," Ruth replied. "I mean, he always struck me as a jerk too, but I guess she saw him as a ticket to the high life."

"So, what do we do?"

"Really, there’s not much we can do. I personally think he’s being abusive. I think I can see the signs. But Rachel didn’t give me any hint that abuse was the problem. Of course, she could be hiding it for fear of something worse, but I just don’t know."

"I’m going to be honest," Randy said. "I told Dad what you told me this morning, and he’s going to ask me what you found out. Should I tell him?"

Ruth sat there looking into her coffee cup for a moment. "I wish I could tell you yes, but I can’t," she said finally. "I wish you would tell him what I suspect, but I don’t have a hint of proof of it."

"Even if Ryan did know," Nicole pointed out. "What could he do?"

"That’s the rub," Ruth agreed. "If Rachel admitted it or accused Joel of it, there’s a lot we could do, a lot that Dad could do. But if we don’t know anything, there’s not much we can do. The problem is that California is so far away that there’s no way we can snoop around and find out. At this distance, if we did find something out it could be too late."

"True," Randy sighed. "I mean, I suppose it would be possible to get a private investigator to poke around a little quietly, but those guys are not like the people you see on TV, and they might not find out anything we could use. If we were a little more solid in our suspicions, well, maybe. But, well shit, I don’t know."

"About all I can say is that Rachel knows I suspect something," Ruth said. "I’ll try to make contact with her a little more than I have in the past. Maybe I’ll find out something. She might let something slip, or whatever. She might tell me and not be willing to tell Mom and Dad."

They talked about it for several minutes without getting any further than they had been in the beginning. "As much as I hate to say it," Randy said finally, "I don’t see that there’s much else we can do right at the moment. But I’ll tell you this: if something is going on that we should be doing something about, then I’m going to feel awful crappy that we didn’t do something when we first suspected it."

"It may be that we’re making a mountain out of a molehill," Ruth agreed. "My gut says no, but that’s just a gut feeling."

Like the day before, Randy went to work in the morning, with the idea of staying there for a few hours, then heading back home to get ready for the funeral. As expected, Regina had left a pile of pink callback slips on his desk, and that was his primary mission for the morning. But, after a while, he headed out to the bathroom, closed his office door on the way back, and called his father over at Clark Plywood to pass on what he’d learned – or actually, not learned – from Ruth the night before, along with the conclusions they’d reached.

"Well, let’s just say that I could believe it," his father said after Randy had delivered his summary. "Rachel has been acting, well, unnaturally quiet for her, and that can’t help but make me think something is wrong."

"Not complaining as much as usual," Randy said.

"I don’t like to say it, but you’re right. I’ll try to get her alone sometime and hint around a bit. If nothing else, maybe I can let her know that we are here for her if she needs us."

"I’d give a lot to have the Rachel back that we knew before she met that joker," Randy sighed.

"Well, I would, too," Ryan agreed. "But I think too much has happened. At least the suspicion got aired in time for me to make a couple preparations that I was considering anyway. Are you all set for this afternoon?

"About as much as I can be," Randy said. "I’m going to duck out of here around eleven, grab a bite, put on the monkey suit and get over there for the visitation. I’m going to try to keep my mouth shut around Joel and not follow my gut instincts."

"Probably not a bad idea, and I suspect my gut instincts are about the same as yours are," Ryan sighed. "Oh, well, this time tomorrow the worst will be over with. I’ve got some figuring to do. See you later."

"Yeah, a couple hours," Randy agreed. "See you then."

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen," Preach began during the service, which turned out to be much bigger than anyone had anticipated. There were only a handful of family members there, including the young Jared, Michael, and Abigail, but there was a pretty good crowd of past and present Clark Construction employees there, which made up a lot. There were also a good number of people associated with competitors, suppliers, and former customers of Clark Construction, and a good contingent from Clark Plywood. "I know that not many of you know me, but I happen to be a minister, a friend of the family, and available when Reverend O’Conner had his accident yesterday, so I agreed to say a few words.

"I only met Brent Clark a couple times, and each only briefly, but even in those short times I could tell that he was more than met the eye. Mr. Clark was many things to many people, a friend, a husband, a father, and a businessman. The other night, Ryan Clark told a group of us a good deal about his father, and referred to him as a tragic figure, born in tragedy, his married life cut short by tragedy, and from that viewpoint, I suppose it’s true.

"But I can tell you that Brent Clark was more than that. Simply, Brent Clark cared. He was a man who cared about his soldiers when he was a battery commander in World War Two. He was a man who cared about the people he had working for him for over fifty years at Clark Construction. He was a man who cared about his customers, doing his best to give them the best job possible at the best price possible. And, he was a man who cared about his community, about making sure that it was a good place to live, that people had good jobs and the chance to have good lives.

"I have heard it said that he was a hard man, but after listening to Ryan Clark the other night, I have come to understand that he was more a distant man, a man who had values that were important to him, values that he pursued relentlessly. In talking with people here, I have come to understand that Brent Clark was a businessman who knew how to make a deal, but realized that the best deal does good for the people on both sides of it. He may have been a hard man who knew how to drive a bargain, but he was honest as the days and nights are long. I’ve not heard it said that he ever gave anyone a bad deal or less than his best.

"Now, I don’t want to imply that Brent Clark was a perfect human being, because I think he would have been the first to admit that he wasn’t. He had flaws, he had imperfections, and he could hold a grudge if someone abused him. But though he could be a rather distant man, if you treated him well he would treat you well. The other night, Ryan Clark commented, ‘My father was a very smart man, a very capable man, but a very driven and tragic man. He never had a lot of happiness in his life, only the satisfaction of a job well done.’ With all due respect to Ryan Clark, and not knowing Brent Clark very well, I have to point out that happiness is what you make of it, and the satisfaction of a job well done may be one of those points that constitutes happiness.

"But what is not arguable is that for many years Brent Clark was a rather lonely man. His wife Ursula died in a tragic automobile accident in 1959, and as Ryan Clark said the other night, ‘That was when the light went out of his life.’ I’m told that Brent and Ursula were incredible soul mates, and he never quit missing Ursula up till the day he died. While we may remember the loss of this man who has meant much to many people here in Spearfish Lake, we should never forget that his death has accomplished the desire he held for almost half a century. That is, to be reunited with his beloved wife, the half of his life that he missed for many years. Now, they are together again under God’s eternal grace, and we should be happy for the both of them.

"In spite of the decades of sorrow that Ursula’s death brought to him, Brent still cared for his friends, his family, and his community. Her death undoubtedly skewed and twisted things for him, but even so, he held up his values through all of that and carried out his missions in life. One of those missions was to make sure that his creations and his values lived on, that his business would carry on. Much of the last of his life was spent in making sure that would happen, that he could go to rest in peace knowing that what he had built wouldn’t fall apart after he left.

"I’m sure there are many here who could tell you much more about Brent Clark than I can. As I said, I only met him a couple times, and then briefly. But those brief occasions taught me that he was a man worth knowing and worth remembering. He influenced a lot of people in his life, and those influences will remain long after my feeble words vanish from memory. I have to say that I envy those of you who knew him better than I did, for it’s in you that his influence will remain. There are worse legacies that a man can have."

This work is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.