David’s Tree Part I

My name is Henry James and I’m a writer for Dark Sides of the Truth magazine.

I learned a lot about the Alexander family when Rick McDonnell, the Chief Editor of Dark Sides called me in to find Sunny who’d dropped off the grid.

To hear Sunny tell it, I was poking my nose into her personal business, but hey, it’s what I do.

I poke.

After the dust cleared and I settled my score with Sunny by again having to buy her lunch at Johnson’s, I hit the trail again. This time I headed north, choosing to cruise around the county side south east of Waco.

Interesting thing about traveling Texas country roads folks. You see a hell of a lot of flat land, tall grasses, barbed wire fences and rolled hay bales.

If you roll down your windows and slow her down for a bit, you’re often provided the sweet aroma of newly cut grass.

There’s times you get to hear soft braying of cattle as they forage in the fields or see horses race across a pasture.

It’s during these times I don’t believe it’s humanly possible to come closer to inner peace.

You also come across the most interesting oddities as well.

Like a cemetery out in the middle of nowhere with one of the most massive trees I’ve ever seen growing in the very center. Interesting thing about that tree. Not only was it large in girth and height, it was the only damned tree in the cemetery.

I pulled over and stopped on the shoulder of the road, waiting until the dust settled, then got out and walked over to a road sign. Wasn’t much to read, but it sparked a curiosity inside which told me a story might be nearby.

Bevin’s Cemetery

Home of David’s Tree

Like in the cemetery nearby.

I went back to my car, rolled up the windows and locked it then crossed the road again and walked along a rutted dirt road which led to the cemetery. Held in place by two rusty steel pipes a faded and cracked board read the same as the road sign.

Even from the road the tree was certainly significant but up close and personal I realized this tree could have held it’s own up against a California oak.

The sucker was massive.

Beneath the shade of the outstretched boughs I walked around surveying the assemblage of tombstones, gazing at the names and dates. Some as far back as the late eighteen hundreds.

By rough estimate there were about a hundred or so tombstones. Few enough I was able to inspect all of them.

Here’s the thing though.

Not a single tombstone had the name David on it. There were a ton of Richards, and Rays, Sallys and Bettys and even a smattering of Agathas and Bartholomews but I never saw a single David.

The sound of tires crunching their way along the rutted path caught my attention and I spun around and watched a maroon pickup truck bouncing in and out of the ruts on its way toward me.

As I stood there the driver parked the truck on the outside perimeter. An elderly gentlemen got out then ambled to the back, dropped the tailgate and pulled out a small lawn mower. He was wearing a tee shirt and overalls and probably one of the most ate up, dingy looking straws I’ve seen since, well the last time I wore mine.

Now I’m up there in years folks, but the man driving that truck probably had me by at least fifteen or twenty years.

He retrieved a gas can and with the lawnmower in tow crossed the cemetery and stopped in front of me. He tugged at the brim of his straw, spat a bit of chew on the ground and flashed me a yellowed grin.

“Howdy mister. Don’t ‘spect I’ve seen you here before. You kin to any of the Bevin’s?”

I shook my head.

“Nah, I was just passing through and I noticed this tree in the middle of this graveyard. Kinda odd though.”

The old man spat twisted and spat then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“How so?”

“Well, the road sign said this was the home of David’s tree and before you drove up I checked every tombstone. None of these people had the name David.”

“Yeap, that’s about right.”

“Okay so who’s David?”

“Nah, it ain’t ‘bout who David is. It’s ‘bout where David is.”

“I don’t think I’m following you old timer.”

“Name’s Randall. Randall Bevin.”

“Henry James.”

Randall spat another bit of chew on the ground then nodded in the direction of the tree.

“David say hello to Henry James.”

Okay things just went from odd to weird. This old man was talking to a tree?

Really?

“Uh, Randall, uh, are you talking to the tree?”

“Of course not Mr. James. That’d be crazy shit. I’m talking to the boy sitting up there in the branches.”

I turned around and inspected the tree’s foliage taking time to check each limb. Aside from a couple of finches and an occasional Mockingbird flitting among the leaves there was nothing, and more important, nobody sitting in that tree.

With a shake of my head I sighed and turned back around. For a couple of seconds I stared in silence at the old man.

Sometimes when you’re dealing with crazy you really don’t know it until you’re halfway down the road with it.

“Tell ya what Henry. I got to tend to the grass and weed a bit.” He twisted around then pointed to a small house with a tin roof set back from the main road.

“See that house yonder?”

“Yeah.”

“There’s sweet tea in the fridge and the glasses are in the cabinet to the right of the kitchen sink. Go pour you a glass and sit a spell on the porch. Soon as I’m done here I’ll join ya and we can talk a bit. How’s that sound?”

“I take it the front door isn’t locked?”

“Shit son, we don’t lock nothing out here. Besides, there ain’t nothing in my house worth stealing anyways.”

Randall spit another glob of bug juice on the ground then pulled the lanyard on the lawn mower and began his march around the cemetery. Following the old man’s advice I walked back to my car, guided it to the old man’s house and parked in front.

Sitting in one of two rocking chairs on the front porch I was halfway through my first glass of sweet tea when he pulled up. I watched him get out and slowly amble up the steps

He grinned at me and said, “how’s the tea?”

“Perfect.”

Randall Bevin disappeared into the house, but just a quickly reappeared with a glass of tea and sat down in the rocker next to me. I watched him mop his face with a rather gray looking handkerchief and then he took a long drink.

“Ah, that is some good shit ain’t it?”

“Sure is.”

“So I reckon you want to know about the boy in the tree right?”

Oh yeah, I really wanted to know about the boy in the tree.

READ ON DAVID’S TREE PART II

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