Free Absolution River by Aaron Mach Page A

it sure does go down smooth. Don’t get much visitors round here. Got some today but wouldn’t call them the friendly sort. Been out here most my life. Ain’t much of a talker either, but you ain’t leavin me much choice.”
    “Jackson, Jackson McAull,” the drifter stated in a low, gruff voice that hadn’t been used in years.
    “Jackson, how bout Jack, for short, that okay?”
    A nod. They sat there quietly finishing the bottle of whisky and devouring the stew. Eli sat up and took the dishes into the small water basin and washed them.
    “Got a spare change a clothes there on the bed. Hadn’t worn them in decades but they should fit you now.” Eli turned around so Jack could change. Eli glanced over and noticed the finished plate. A smile. He let the dish sit and moved over to the leather chair. Jack limped back over to the bed in his dry clothes of jeans and flannel shirt and laid his head down.
    “You were in quite a state, where’d you come from?”
    “Nowhere.”
    “I see.”
    “Where were you goin’ to?”
    “Nowhere.” Jack stated in a dreary, desperate tone.
    “I see, I’ve been there, there now.”
    Jack faded off to sleep. Early afternoon the next day, Jack awoke to an empty cabin. There was some beef jerky left on the table for him that he could see from his position on the bed. The sun was shining and the fire was still smoldering from the night before. He got up and moved to the door, and stepped outside onto the small porch. There was a chair there and he sat looking out at the forest. In the front of the cabin was an axe and logs that needed to be split. Past the open area in front of the porch was a thick forest. Above that was a towering mountain filled with pine trees moving up to the snow-capped peaks of the Flathead Wilderness Area. Jack closed his eyes and felt the breeze. The pain from his ankle was beginning to fade but it was still large and throbbing. He got up from the chair and limped over to the axe. He removed it from the large base stump with one hand and grabbed a log. He placed it on the base and swung, shattering the log into two even pieces. He did this again, and again, and again. Each strike was a movement against an immovable object. His aim was not to split the log but the massive base below it, to bust through it and into the ground as hard as he could. Eli came out of the thicket and watched the process for several moments. He emerged and walked over to Jack. He set down his traps and musket and began to hand Jack the logs. Shocked by Eli’s stealth, Jack looked at him with sweat dripping down his face and into his thick beard. Jack’s barefoot and broken stance re-positioned and he grabbed the log from Eli. They continued this for over an hour, without a single word spoken. Each man knew this had to be done, as each of them had been doing it their whole lives. Not stopping for the pain but simply accepting it and driving forward with the strength and determination of an axe along its trajectory. Finally Jack stopped out of exhaustion and Eli picked up his things and began walking to the cabin door.
    “Come on, I caught lunch.”
    They ate lunch on the porch and sipped at the whiskey this time. After an hour of sitting and enjoying the silence, Eli asked. “You’re a private man, I can see that. I can also see you battling somethin’ in ya. Don’t need to know what or why, but its nice havin’ the company. You help me with some things round here and I won’t ask no questions. You’ll need a couple days to get that ankle right.” Jack nodded and looked down, and that is where they left it. Time passed and Jack sat on the porch most days and even on some nights. His leg elevated, staring off into the distance. Eli would come out with him when he wasn’t doing the chores and sit with him and smoke a cigar. Neither would speak, and each finding solace in the company.
    It was mid-afternoon and Jack heard a shot going through the forest. He immediately was on