Style, you
either have it or you
don't. And if you have it, you have it
all the time.The Rogue's Quiet Weekend
by Tux Toledo
Page 9
The
soil outside of Nevada City was deep orange. The south fork
of the Yuba river meandered somewhere a few miles away. The land itself
was nondescript and was covered with tall grass and thick trees. The
small access road leading to Jepson's property was unpaved and more
suitable to a Range Rover than a Rolls Royce. The road ended
abruptly in a small clearing. It was hard to imagine office buildings
and hotels on the property but I suppose I don't have the vision of a
real estate developer.
"They will have to put in roads and sewers," James said as he surveyed
the area. "Have they filed an environmental impact study?"
"I didn't see one mentioned in the prospectus," I said.
James stopped the Rolls and we hiked through tall grass until we came
to another small clearing. We were surprised to find a
raggedy shack with smoke rising from its flimsy chimney. An old man sat
on a tree stump in front of the shack. He was cleaning a
large hunting knife with a dirty rag. His prickly beard and
sand-blasted hair covered all of his face but his eyes. It made him
resemble a porcupine, actually.
"Hello," I said.
The man looked up, squinted, and rose from the stump. He was suspicious
but he didn't hurl the knife at us. Most encouraging.
"Howdy," he said.
We ventured a few steps closer.
"Nice knife," I said.
The man looked at the knife. "Mighty fine huntin' knife, that
is." He held it up so we could see it better. "Used
to belong to my father. He skinned quite a few bears with it."
"Bears?" I looked at James.
"Don't get nervous, mister. Not around here, up in Washington State."
"Oh," I said. "I don't suppose you see many bears around here."
"No, and I don't usually see many folks either," the man replied.
"Well, you'll probably be seeing many more of them pretty soon," I said.
"What do you mean?" He squinted again.
"Do you live here?" I asked.
"Yup." He tilted his head and stopped squinting. "You got a problem
with that?"
"No, not at all. But you don't own this land, do you?"
"Nobody owns this land, mister. Nobody wants it."
"Well, someone wants it now."
The old man twitched. "What, you own this land now?" he asked. He
tilted his head in the other direction and looked at me with
half-closed eyes.
© 2008 David Biagini