James Hoch - Heckel Casey

After much discussion at the graveyard and given the recent assault from Madeline, it was determined that we would pack up and leave as soon as possible. The crowd broke up and almost everyone wanted to come pat me on the back and offer words of encouragement. My cheeks hurt from smiling.

I stood there watching everyone leave. People were engaged in animated conversations. I thought everyone would be depressed and sad with their heads hanging down. Instead, they were pumped and ready for a fight.

Sela slid her arm around my waist and said, "You were fantastic. You took charge so easily. I'm so proud of you!" She leaned down, tilted my chin back and kissed me.

After the long, deep kiss, I came up for air and said, "Wow, thanks. I'll have to engage in public speaking more often."

We walked back to the house, arm in arm, discussing the day's events. As we approached the quaint farmhouse that more and more felt like our own home, I spotted Jerky, curled up on the front porch swing.

She lifted her head and yawned wide.

"I agree," I said, stretching my arms.

"How about a nice hot bath?" Sela asked, walking through the front door.

"Only if you join me," I said with a devilish glint in my eye.

Sela winked at me and said, "You light the candles. I'll bring the hot water."

McKinney, Texas, was a virtual beehive of activity. Everywhere you looked, people were either putting the last-minute repairs to wagons or packing them with their belongings.

"Now I see why we were making wagons months ago. I didn't even think anything of it at the time," I said to Sela as she packed a small wagon that we found in the barn.

"You see…there has been some divine intervention helping us. Did you see the wagon Jack made?" she asked.

"No. What's it look like?"

"Very cool. He took the back of an old Ford pickup and rigged it to hitch up to his horses."

"Hey, good old American ingenuity," I said. "Do you know we are traveling down the old Route 66?"

"What's that?" Sela asked as she finished tying down our cart with an old tarp she found in the barn.

"A piece of Americana. Route 66 is the old highway that people used to go from Chicago to Los Angeles. There also was an old TV show with two guys in a Corvette that were traveling it, meeting interesting people who usually had some sort of conflict. A friend of mine had some of the episodes on the old Blu-ray DVD format. It was one of my grandfather's favorite shows when he was a kid. Anyway, it's a good route to get to California."

"Wonder if we'll meet any more people?" Sela asked.

"Fine with me. Just so long as they don't have horns sprouting out of their heads or flaming-red eyes."

"Well, we lucked out with the McKinney folks. I'm sure there are more along the way that will join the ranks," she said confidently.

We left the barn with the wagon ready to roll. I asked Sela which horse would pull the wagon. She thought that Tempest would be best suited for the job.

As the afternoon wore on, everyone finished packing. Spirits continued to be high. Jack called a meeting for the evening at the local high school gym. He wanted to make sure everyone was ready and understood how to proceed as well as give a good pep talk, kind of like a spirit rally that one had in high school. First, I pictured him in a cheerleading outfit with pom-poms and then the visualization morphed to him as Ward Bond on the old TV show Wagon Train, talking to the pioneers setting up to go West. Maybe I was his Rowdy Yates?Wait a minute; Yates was on Rawhide, I think. Okay, that's all right. I'd rather think of myself as a young Clint Eastwood anyway. Besides it's my visualization and I can have it be what I want.

Sela and I got to the gym a little late. It was packed. When we walked in, the entire room got silent. I smiled and waved. The crowd resumed their conversations. "Nothing like a little stress," I muttered to Sela. She winked at me.

Jack had found an old bullhorn with some functioning batteries. He asked the crowd to settle down.

"I think it fitting that Reverend Marshall lead us in a short prayer. Reverend?"

The prayer was a good one, optimistic, not too preachy. It was heartfelt and just right.

"Well folks, tomorrow we head out to Oregon," Jack bellowed. A cheer erupted from everyone as if their home team just made a big score. I half expected the scoreboard to flash numbers.

For the next twenty minutes, Jack explained how people were to join the wagon train beginning at 7:00 a.m. He went on to talk about the procedure for rest stops whenever there was a water source, when they would make camp for the night and other important points. He asked people to hold any questions until he was finished.

The meeting lasted for almost two hours. Right after Jack answered his last question, he turned to me and asked, "Would you like to say a few words, Heckel?"

A large lump in my throat suddenly emerged and my tongue quickly felt like it had turned into…well, felt. You know the type of thick felt that one finds on the hammer of a piano.

Inspiration struck and I took the bullhorn. I beamed and said, "Recently, I've been thinking of a few old-time TV shows. One was Route 66. "

The room buzzed with excitement as many of the older folks remembered the show and shared their memories. Some of those people remembered watching the show on the oldies TV program called TV Land.

"The other show that comes to mind is Wagon Train. " More buzz and enthusiastic murmuring.

"So, with that in mind, I have one thing to say."

The room suddenly got silent. People were sitting on the edge of their seats for what I was to say next.

With my best Ward Bond imitation, I lifted the bullhorn and said, "Wagons ho!"

The crowd stood on their feet, cheered and laughed.

Sela leaned into me and said, "What a great way to end the night with humor." She patted me on the back.

When we woke the next morning at around five thirty, I sensed something didn't feel right. I opened the front door and immediately knew. Clouds were building in the east. I could smell rain coming. So much for a pleasant warm spring morning to start our journey.

"Damn, not the best way to start a trip," I mumbled as Sela came up behind me and wrapped her arms around my waist. She kissed my neck tenderly, making me shiver.

"Probably Madeline's doing…just her way of annoying us, I suppose," she said.

I nodded my head. "Well…a little rain won't dampen our spirits," I said confidently. "We are pumped and ready to go."

A little before seven, Jack stopped in front of our house to have us join the head of the line. Sela had just finished strapping our little wagon to Tempest and rode her to the front yard. Jerky was already perched on my shoulder, settled in to continue her morning sleep regimen.

As I turned to smile at Sela, the rain started. First, it was a gentle drizzle, but it wasn't long before it turned into a steady downpour. I looked up at the sky. Was this Madeline's doing or plain old Mother Nature's spring-cleaning?

"Okay God, here we go," I muttered. "Oh, and a little help with the sun coming out would be great, if it's not too much to ask."

Sela heard me. She had the most incredible hearing, I swear. "It will."

Jack turned to look at the long line of people out in the street. He smiled at me and shouted, "Wagons ho!"

Everyone within earshot laughed. It was a good start in spite of the cold rain. No one's spirits were dampened in the least.

Around ten thirty in the morning the rain stopped and the sun started to come out. A cheer erupted from everyone. Jack stopped us all at a nearby stream, taking the opportunity to water the horses.