Merriton

“What now, Elvis?” Randy looked at the cowboy on his front porch. He turned around and headed back into the living room, leaving the door open for the old lion. “There’s already somebody named McCain running for president. Or did you decide that I need to take over a small South American country now?” Elvis peeked into the house from the porch, not stepping into the home. “No. Still think ya oughtta run for mayor, but I can’t make ya do somethin’ ya don’t wanna do.”

Randy motioned for Elvis to follow him into the living room and the gristled old man stepped into the foyer with his cowboy hat in his hands. He shut the heat of the dry August day out of the house and inched toward the living room. Randy sat at his computer, waiting for the next tirade from Elvis, but the old man seemed different today. “What is it? Are you okay?”

Elvis’ gnarled fingers inched along the brim of the hat. “Finally figured out why you came to Merriton.” Randy could feel a hush fall over the house. How many times had various people told him that everyone comes to Merriton for a reason? Tank had said it one agonizing evening when Randy visited him. Elvis had said it on more than one occasion. June, the realtor that had sold him the house, had even said it the day they wrote up the papers. Now, Elvis thinks he knows the reason Randy came here and is about to “bless” him with the information.

“I know exactly why I moved here, Elvis.” Really? Did he really know why he was here? Every time he slipped next to Sierra’s thin and emaciated body, he wondered if it was worth the price. Living in Merriton was killing her, despite her efforts to keep her running under control. “I was sick of San Francisco and I wanted to get away.”

Elvis ran his hand through his gray, shaggy hair. The scent of sheep and sunlight filled the house. “That’s why you left the city, but that ain’t why you came here.” The old man slowly stepped into the living room. “Everybody comes to Merriton for a reason, even the ones born here.” Randy shook his head. “I don’t believe in destiny, Elvis.” The sunlight was streaming in from the window and Randy realized that Sierra was taking longer to deal with the goats than she usually did. He walked to the window and pulled aside the sheer curtains. There she was, hauling away the straw from the stalls. He breathed a sigh of relief.

“Don’t need to believe in destiny for it to be true. Merriton’s a special place. You said that yourself. The reason why it’s special is ’cause of the kind of people who live here.” Randy plopped into the futon. He could see a rush of dust rise from the futon in the beam of light from the window. The movement fascinated him. “You’re right, Elvis. Merriton is a special place.”

He patted the futon for Elvis to sit next to him. The old cowboy was self-conscious about his clothing and patted his jeans and shirt. A new cloud of dust became illuminated in the sunbeam. He carefully sat on the edge of the couch. “Took me a long time to figure out why you came here. First, I thought you came here to fix my computer. I thought you could be the guy everybody comes to when they needed their computer fixed, but seems like most people don’t have computers or just buy new ones when the old one breaks.”

The old cowboy rubbed his unshaven face. “Then I thought you was here to get Curly outta his funk, but seems like your little friend Kevin came here to do that.” Randy shook his head. He knew that Kevin lifted weights with Tank and Curly, but he didn’t know that Kevin and Curly had become friends. Is that why the guy kept looking at him funny every time he walked into Mt. Zen Cafe? “Then I thought you was here ta be a gentleman farmer and bring the old ways back to Merriton, but looks like you don’t take to that too well either.” Randy chuckled to himself. “Can’t I just be the crazy guy who lives in the Bowen house?”

Elvis smiled. “Nope. This town only needs one crazy old coot and I’m it.” The two of them laughed. “Plus, you don’t got enough crazy in ya. Ya gotta threaten people or speak in tongues or build big machines to be a real crazy one. I think James Sebastian will have ta carry on the curmudgeon torch when I’m gone. He’s always buildin’ somethin’ scary in that garage of his.” Randy laughed. “If by scary, you mean ingenious. That Snow Eater is going to keep him in the black for a LONG time.”

Another hush fell over the room. Elvis patted Randy on the shoulder and another rush of dust flew past the beam of sunlight. “Just heard about that today. June says you signed the Thunder Brothers Ranch back over to James.” Randy focused on the swirling eddies of dust in the air. “It wasn’t like I just gave him his farm back. He PAID me for it. He even insisted that he pay a little more than I put out in improvements and salaries. It’s not like I gave it back to him out of the goodness of my heart.”

Elvis patted him again. “Still, you coulda kept the farm.” Randy shook his head. “Farming feels too much like gambling to me. There are too many variables for me to be comfortable. I know John Sebastian felt the same way. He just liked getting the paycheck every two weeks. I don’t mind risking my time for an investment, but with farming, you risk your time, land, seed, pesticide, water, everything. I’d much rather spend months programing something that didn’t work than spend months in the field just to have a bad hailstorm take it all away from me. At least I can salvage bad code.” Elvis just nodded and stood up. Randy watched as the old cowboy headed for the door.

“Wait, you said you realized why I came to Merriton. Aren’t you going to tell me?” Elvis placed his hand on the door knob and smiled. “A man that don’t believe in destiny don’t need to know what his destiny is.”