Our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.
-Ephesians 6:12
The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.
-John 10:10
. . . . . . . . . .
There once was a prairie man named Ethan. The summer of his 25th year, Ethan inherited a piece of property a good ways away from the small town of his youth. With a gallon of trepidation—but a teaspoon of determination—Ethan struck out to begin a new life as a man of the land.
The land he’d inherited was everything Ethan imagined it would be. Filled with swift and ceaseless streams, spreading shade trees, dandelions full and white like sunset clouds, wild flora and untamed fauna, Ethan saw it as long on promise and pregnant with potential. His mind ran wild with visions of bright golden waves of wheat, towering corn stalks, apples as large as fists, sugary snap peas, and flowers of a million and one colors. Good things would grow on this land, he committed to himself. So, once he’d settled into the farmhouse made of unpainted buckboard and cut clasp nails on the land’s southern edge, he began the work of taming the land to raise up out of it all he could imagine.
The work proved difficult, though. Untrained in the agricultural arts, Ethan did what seemed right to him—planting what he felt like planting when he felt like planting it, working around seedling-stifling weeds and rocks instead of removing them, digging some furrows too deep and others too shallow, overwatering at times, then under-watering.
After a few years of trying hard to grow good things on his own, Ethan’s land was a mess. Kudzu nabbed every bit of budding lettuce, rabbits looted the yams, and hail pummeled the tomato plants. A few apples worth eating came in around September, and there was a carnation bush with moderately admirable blooms, but beyond that, there was little to show for his efforts.
Ethan assumed this was the best he could expect from the land. Yes, he’d originally envisioned something more vibrant, verdant, and vivacious than what stood before him, but he’d come to lower those expectations. A bowlful of edible fruit and a vaseful of flowers seemed like all he should hope for.
Though he knew the land was valuable and fertile and ready to be brought to life, doggone if Ethan could figure out how to do such. At night, he’d sit inside his little cottage and chew on tasteless hardtack he’d got by mail order, wishing he was better at doing the very thing he wanted to do. One evening, just before sundown, disappointed at all he saw before him, he mumbled quietly to himself with a sad shake of the head, “I could use some help.”
. . . . . . . . . .
The next morning, Ethan started when he heard a knock on his door. Opening it, he saw a stranger standing there. The stranger was as tall as a wall, thick as bark, with a smile beaming out from beneath a full and bushy mustache. He tipped his hat at Ethan, raised an eyebrow and said with in a valley low voice and an easy drawl, “Sir, I was passin’ past and couldn’t help but notice your land…” The man trailed off for a moment.
“Yes?” Ethan said.
“Well,” the stranger let out a little bit of a laugh. “Kind of a wreck, ain’t it? I don’t mean no offense, now. It’s good land, no doubt. Just don’t look like it’s all it could be.” The stranger searched Ethan’s eyes. They showed nothing. “Don’t ya think?” the man finally said.
Slowly, Ethan relented and nodded. “I don’t seem able to do much with it, I’m afraid.”
The mustachioed stranger took a step closer to Ethan and stuck out a mighty hand. “Name’s Jonathan. Folks call me Jack, though.”
Ethan took the man’s hand. Shook it. “Ethan. My name’s Ethan.”
“Well, Ethan,” Jack said, “I got a mind to give you a good price for your land.”
Ethan pulled his hand from Jack like he’d been snake-bit. Ethan eyed the stranger. Sell him my land? Ethan thought. Who does this man think he is?
Jack took on a solemn look and said quietly, “I believe I can care for your land a bit better than you. I’d like to strike you a deal.”
Ethan swallowed hard, then stared Jack down for a full minute. Jack didn’t move, though. Ethan thought hard about what would he be giving up and what the man would be getting. Finally, Ethan said, “What kind of deal did you have in mind?”
“Trust me to take care of your land and make something good of it. Now, of course, at any point, you make the final decision, but if you want something good to come out of it… you have to trust me.”
Ethan screwed up his face. “Trust?” Why in the world should I trust this man? Ethan thought.
“Just so you know,” Jack said as if answering Ethan’s unspoken question, “I’ve done this many, many times before for lots of folks’ property. And, the more they trust me, the more good comes out of the land. But, that’s the deal, Ethan. You’ve gotta trust me.”
When Ethan looked into Jack’s eyes, he felt warmth and hope and comfort and strength. All in a single look. Ethan looked out past Jack, over his shoulder, out at the land. He saw its sad shape. Its low estate. Its silent statement of disappointment.
Though for a moment his pride pricked and bucked like a wild horse being bridled, he slowly stuck out his hand and shook Jack’s. “I guess it’s a deal, Jack.”
Jack smiled. He even let out at small, “Whoop!” that made Ethan laugh. Suddenly, Jack bear-hugged Ethan. As Ethan felt his ribs press in and his breath go short, he wondered what kind of deal he’d just made and what would become of his land.
. . . . . . . . . .
A year later, under Jack’s care and guidance, Ethan’s land had completely turned around.
Over that year, each morning Jack had told Ethan what they needed to do for the day. Together, they’d go out and care for the land, removing what needed to be removed, and tending to the new growth.
Eventually, on the eastern slope of a smooth and grassy hill, a grove of 87 apple trees had sprung to life, taken root, and borne fruit. On the northern side of the land, a prairie was thick with a thousand cows which roamed free and napped standing up. On the western edge, what was once a stream was now a small rushing river which watered both the trees and the cows as it ran its course through the land.
Every day, Ethan would wake up feeling grateful for his land, grateful for his decision to give up control of the land, and grateful for Jack. Ethan rested easy each night, seated in his grandmother’s rocking chair, listening to the cicadas, eating slices of home-grown apple pie.
Things were good. They were very, very good.
Until…
One day, Ethan walked his acreage and made a series of discoveries almost too terrible to tell—
Twenty-two of his apple trees were scorched—burned in a blaze. The rest of the trees stood tall and defiant, but the twenty-two were charred and ruined… little more than piles of burned leaves and bark.
Beyond this, he found a quarter of his cows lying dead, bloodied and cut up, as if attacked with knives.
Nearby, he smelled something horrendous. He followed his nose until it led to the river that ran through his land. The water reeked of sulfur and chemicals the likes of which he’d never smelled. The stench of the water mixed with the acrid odor of dead cattle and the reek of burnt apples. Ethan held his hand over his mouth and ran back to his home.
Climbing the porch stairs, he collapsed on the top step. His eyes were big as wagon wheels. His mouth was open as a loose gate. Tears sat waiting for the slightest push, right on the ledge of his lower eyelids.
“What happened?” he asked himself aloud. “What in the world happened…?”
From a hundred yards away, he heard the faint whickering of Jack’s roan quarter horse as it trotted slowly toward the cottage.
Ethan straightened up, collecting himself, rising to his feet. As Jack climbed off his horse, he saw something in Ethan’s eyes. “Anything the matter, Ethan?”
For reasons he couldn’t articulate—maybe it was embarrassment at what he’d seen, fear he’d caused it himself through action or neglect, or nothing more than not wanting to disappoint Jack—Ethan shook his head. “No,” he said quietly. “Nothing’s the matter.”
Jack stared at Ethan for a long moment. “You can tell me,” he said quietly.
Ethan burst out suddenly. “Nothing’s the matter, Jack! Everything is fine!”
Jack nodded. “Okay, Mr. Ethan. Okay.” And with that, he quietly mounted his horse and rode on down the hill.
As Ethan watched Jack go, something caught in his throat, and those tears fell slow as molasses.
. . . . . . . . . .
Ethan hid himself in his cottage. When Jack would come by each morning, Ethan would holler out, “Go on, Jack. I’m fine” until he heard him ride away. Ethan spent his days and nights staring at the wall, wondering what had gone wrong.
Finally, after two weeks, Ethan got up the nerve to walk his land again. The acrid smell in the air had gone and he felt sure that what he’d seen was nothing more than a nightmare—a simulacrum realization of his worst fears.
What he saw, though, was even worse than what he’d seen before.
Forty more apple trees were gone. Forty more trees worth of apples. Each scorched, burned to the ground, vertical poles of smoke and ash.
A hundred more cows were dead. Some slaughtered violently, others dead from drinking the river water.
And the river smelled worse than ever before.
This time, Ethan did not run or cry. he simply sat down on the ground and stared into the wild blue distance. For six full hours he… did… not… move.
Inside, though, his mind was racing.
What has happened?
Why has this happened?
I thought my land was ready to be filled out with all that it had promised it could be.
What’s gone wrong?
What have I done?
Why did I trust that Jack character?
Can I really only trust myself?
I have never felt so alone.
With his thoughts yelling loudly within, he didn’t hear the crunch-crunch-crunching of Jack’s boots, walking across the dead earth beside him.
“Ethan,” Jack said.
Ethan glared at Jack… eyes of fury. “What do you want?”
“We need to talk,” he said.
“What is there to talk about? I’m terrible at taking care of this land! I always have been!” he paused. “I thought good things were happening, but… I don’t know what’s happening!”
“I know,” Jack said.
“It wasn’t you, was it?” he asked.
“No. It wasn’t.”
Ethan bit his lip and fixed his gaze a thousand and one yards away.
Jack stepped into his line of sight. “Ethan, it’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay.”
“No, it won’t,” he replied softly. “There’s just no way.”
“Do you trust me?” Jack asked.
It took him a moment, but finally Ethan nodded ever so slightly.
Jack grabbed one of his saddlebags off his horse, then put his arm around Ethan’s shoulder. “C’mon,” he said, leading him to a ladder leaned up against the side of the cottage. Ethan followed Jack up the ladder, onto the roof.
As the sun sunk just below the horizon, Jack produced a spyglass from the saddlebag. He extended it, put his eye one end, and scanned the land.
“What are you looking for?” Ethan asked.
Jack kept looking through the spyglass silently. Finally, he paused and said, “That. That right there.”
He handed the spyglass to Ethan and said, “There. Look out there.”
Ethan raised the spyglass to his eye and looked through it. At first, he saw very little in the darkness. A bit of a smoldering fire, cattle carcasses, felled trees. “I don’t see anything,” Ethan said.
“Keep looking,” Jack said. “Further off.”
Ethan scanned the southern acreage until he saw something he’d never, ever seen before.
Barely visible in the moonlight… was a brick cabin.
The cabin stood off alone, way on the backside of Ethan’s forty acres.
A faint light shone and flickered in the cabin window.
Ethan gasped. “What?”
“Someone’s living out there” Jack said gravely.
Ethan was stunned. “Someone’s living there? Who? Who lives on my land but you and me?” Ethan stared hard through the spyglass.
“Keep watching.”
After thirty seconds, Ethan saw the front door of the cabin bang open. A figure encased in shadows walked out of the house. In one hand, he held a lit torch in one hand and a jug in the other. A formidable machete hung off the figure’s belt.
Ethan was gobsmacked. He turned to Jack. “Just keep watching,” Jack said. Ethan looked back through the spyglass and saw the shadowy figure march out onto the land with confidence and defiance—his chin held high, a barely detectable snarl of a smile on his face.
What Ethan saw next caused him to gasp aloud. The figure held the torch to the base of a tree, grinning as it caught fire in a blaze of orange.
“He’s… he’s burning the trees! My trees! Our trees!”
He then watched as the figure left behind a dozen blazing trees and made his way to the westernmost spot on the river. The figure knelt down, uncorked the jug, and poured a vile and steaming liquid into the water. Ethan moved the spyglass to follow the fumes coming from the river as they flowed down, down, down into the section of the river where seven cows were drinking. Without a sound, the drinking cows fell over dead.
The figure then walked up to a family of cows huddled under a mesquite tree, unsheathed the blade at his side, and lifted it over the animals. Before he could bring the machete down, Ethan looked away.
He turned his gaze to Jack, his eyes narrowed with fury.
“Who… is… he?” Ethan seethed.
Jack took the spyglass from Ethan and said, “He’s a curse upon your land, Ethan. He’s someone who doesn’t belong here.”
“How could I not know someone was living on my land?”
“Your land is big and wide and until you see the effects of someone living on your land, you might never know anyone was there.”
Ethan breathed in deep and gritted his teeth.“Well,” he said curtly, “now I know.”
“And that’s the first step,” Jack said.
“How did he get here, Jack?”
Jack nodded. “Come on inside, Ethan. Let’s talk.”
Seated at the cottage kitchen table before a pile of leftover morning biscuits and cups of chicory coffee, Jack faced Ethan.
“There’s a good chance whoever he is has been there for years,” Jack said. “Maybe for as long as you’ve lived here. Heck, he might have moved on back before you were born… back when your Momma and Daddy owned the land. Or, he might’ve wandered on a few years ago.” Jack took a sip of coffee and added, “You could have even invited him on, yourself.”
“What?!” Ethan said, shocked and offended. “Why would I let someone like that—?”
“You ever let a drifter cross your land, Ethan? Ever allowed a stranger to just camp for the night? He may have looked harmless enough at the time, but…” Jack let his words float in the air.
Ethan stared into his coffee. There had been plenty of times he’d looked the other way when someone had wandered through his land and set up camp for the night. He'd even walked out and offered a bite of supper. But he'd always assumed they’d left the next morning as promised. Most had, he guessed. This one, obviously, had not.
“Still, he has… no right… to be here.” Ethan’s words spat from his mouth.
“You’re right,” Jack agreed, stirring his coffee mindlessly.
Ethan sat straight in his chair and squared his jaw.
“What are you thinking?” Jack asked.
“I’ve got a mind to do something.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m gonna get him off my land.”
“I see,” Jack said, wiping a biscuit crumb from his mustache.
“I’m gonna march down there and… well, I’m gonna take care of it.”
“Ethan, I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but…”
Ethan looked up, waiting for him to finish. After a bit of silence he said, “What?” impatiently.
“He’s not going to listen to you.”
“Not going to listen to me? He doesn’t have any choice but to listen to me! He’s not supposed to be here, Jack!”
“I know that. But…” Jack paused. Then, eyes looking straight at Ethan, “You don’t have the authority.”
“What are you talking about, ‘authority’?! I don’t have the authority to—“
“But I do,” Jack said.
“What? You do, but I don’t? Is that what you’re saying.”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Jack said.
Ethan stood up, Glared at Jack. “You’re in this with him, aren’t you? You’re friends with him! This is all about you and him taking my land and destroying it! You’re in cahoots with that monster!”
Jack stood up. He looked Ethan in the eyes and said with a level of gravity Ethan had never seen before: “Ethan, I don’t know that man. I’m not friends with that man. What he’s doing to your land makes me very, very angry.” Jack’s calm voice echoed eerily in the kitchen. “I have the authority to get rid of him. At this point, you do not. With your permission, though, I will.”
Ethan stood quietly then said, “You think I’m weak, don’t you?”
Jack slowly pulled his duster jacket back from his hip, revealing a holstered Colt .45. “Ethan, I need you to trust me. And I need you to know that I’ve got authority. And I know how to deal with apple-tree burning, cow-slaughtering, river-poisoning sons of guns like that one. I’ve done it all my life. Now, do I have your permission to deal with him?”
After a long moment of pride-swallowing, Ethan quietly said to Jack: “Please.”
Jack nodded. “We ride at first light.”
. . . . . . . . . .
The next morning, as the sun crested the distant mesa on the eastern ridge, Ethan heard Jack’s horse’s hooves clomping in the dirt. Ethan descended the back porch stairs, just as Jack rounded the corner of his cottage. He stopped his horse right in front of his and looked down at Ethan. His eyes were full of bravery, strength and courage. Ethan looked back up at him, a little unsure. “You ready?” he asked.
Ethan breathed in deep and nodded. Jack let down his hand, grabbed Ethan’s and pulled him up behind him on the horse. Faced towards the back forty acres the horse whinnied. “Hold on,” said Jack. Ethan grabbed Jack’s shoulders and the horse exploded forth in a thunderous fury.
Ethan’s mind raced as they rode.
Why am I trusting this man? I hardly know who he is. But something in me says it’s good to trust him. He knows what he’s doing. Right? But what about this man in the brick cabin? He’s clearly dangerous. Maybe I’ve made a horrible mistake. Maybe I should just let him stay. He’s not really bothering me, is he? It’s really not that bad…right?
Again, as if reading Ethan’s mind, Jack pointed off toward the distance. Ethan saw the field littered with cow carcasses. his nose caught the foul scent of the polluted river. And he could hear a light rustling of feathery burnt apple tree leaves, blowing across the prairie. Ethan clenched his jaw.
Jack’s right.
This needs to be dealt with.
And it needs to be dealt with today.
A hundred yards from the brick cabin, Ethan thought Jack would surely slow the horse down. Instead, he leaned into the horse’s neck, pressed his heel into its side, and let out a deep, “Hyah!” The horse lowered its head and slipped into an even faster gear.
Jack turned back to Ethan, a slight smile on his lips. Ethan answered his question without hearing it. “Yeah. I’m ready.”
Jack pulled hard and fast on the reins as the horse came to the front of the cabin. Jack jumped his from horse in a shot before it had come to a stop. Ethan followed as quickly as he could, getting down from the horse just as Jack reached the rickety front door. Ethan took a full step back when he saw Jack lift his leg and kick.
The door flung back so hard it ripped from its hinges, sailed through the air, and smashed against the back wall of the cabin.
Dust clouded the entry. Jack stepped inside. Slowly, carefully, Jack followed him in.
The cabin was small and dark and dank. The pungent smell of toxic chemicals mixed in the air with the sickening aroma of spoiled food and unwashed clothes. Old newspapers covered the windows. A potbelly stove stood crooked in the corner, two of its legs broken off. On the left, a yellowed mattress laid atop a dilapidated wooden frame.
Something stirred fast and twitchy from the mattress—a form rising fast from its slumber, petrified.
Jack locked eyes with the man in the bed. The man in the bed stared back at him. The mysterious shadow being of the night was decidedly less threatening in the daytime. A gaunt, reedy, unshaven, wild-eyed fellow clad only in a faded and dirty long underwear one-piece, he licked his lips and cut his eyes to a holster, hanging off a rusty nail in the wall.
Before the reedy man could blink, Jack had his gun drawn and aimed. “You so much as inhale in that direction again, you won’t get a chance to exhale.” The man turned away from his holster, and back to Jack.
Ethan stood behind Jack’s back, peering over his shoulder.
“It’s time for you to go,” Jack told the man in the deepest voice Ethan ever heard in all his life.
The man’s blood-shot eyes glared at Jack, full of hate and spite. “You can’t tell me what to—“
Jack cocked the gun. “I said, it’s time for you to go.”
The man let out a grunt from deep within his throat. His body rocked back and forth like that of a child barely able to contain his anger. He erupted. “I don’t have to listen to what you say! It’s not up to you to decide! It’s… it’s….” The man’s body stopped rocking, suddenly. His eyes slowly brightened. His colorless lips covered his yellow teeth. A smirk emerged.
“Hello, young man,” the figure said to Ethan, hardly visible behind Jack’s frame. “Come around from there, pal.”
Ethan couldn’t help but step further behind Jack. “Do not speak to him,” Jack growled.
“Ohh, I just want to have a quiet little chat. There’s nothing to fear, friend,” the man said, smoothing a hand across his thin and wiry hair.
“I—I don’t want to talk to you,” Ethan said, afraid to look at the man.
The figure chuckled out a wheezy laugh. “I’m not going to hurt you. Did this man say I was out to hurt you? I’m not out to hurt you. I’m just a nobody. A nothing. Living out here, all by my lonesome. Why can’t you be kind to a poor little one like me?”
Ethan covered his ears. “I’m not listening to you.”
“You would turn away from someone as helpless and as harmless as me? But I—“
Jack took a step towards the man. “Nothing more out of you.”
The man flashed his teeth with rage. “I’ll speak to him if I want to! I don’t have to talk to you! You have no authority here!”
Suddenly, Ethan came out from behind Jack, his eyes searing slits. “He does so have authority here! He has every right to this land! And you are going to do whatever he says!”
“I will not!”
“Take him, Jack,” Ethan said.
“I will do whatever I want! I—“
The man’s voice was cut short by the ear-splitting crack of the fired Colt .45.
Smoke rose from the barrel of Jack’s gun.
The man’s mouth hung open in a hollow, silent frown. Six inches in front of him, a quarter-sized hole sat smoking in the mattress.
“You will do what I say, do you understand?” Jack said calmly.
Jack used the tip of his Colt to lift his hat brim.
The figure on the bed saw Jack’s face… and he reeled backwards.
“Do you understand?” Jack said.
“I know you,” the man stammered out. Terror spread across his face. “I—I--know you.”
“I know you do,” Jack said. “And because of that, you’re going to do exactly what I say.”
The man swallowed hard. “I will.”
Ethan watched all of this, amazed. He'd never seen such fear in someone before. And he'd never seen such strength in another.
“You’re going to get out of that bed,” Jack commanded the man.
The man obeyed, shaking slightly, stepping out onto the wooden floor.
“You are about to leave. And you’re about to leave this land. Do you understand?”
“Yes. I understand.” The figure stood, shaking. “But where will I go?”
“Far from here,” Jack said.
The man slowly shuffled toward the front door.
“Wait,” Jack said. The figure stopped suddenly and shot a fearful glance at Jack.
Ethan saw Jack looking down at a threadbare throw rug, stained and weathered, sitting in the middle of the floor. Jack stepped off the rug. “Lift it up.”
“But I—“ the man started.
“Lift the rug,” Jack demanded.
Ethan watched with intense curiosity as the man pulled back the rug. Ethan was shocked to see a square wooden trapdoor in the center of the space, a rope handle on one end.
“Open it,” Jack said.
The man did not argue. He pulled the door up, letting it fall flat open. A dark hole sat exposed in the middle of the room.
“Step back,” Jack told the man. The man moved to the back of the room. “All of you, out of there,” Jack called.
Ethan looked from Jack, back to the hole. he wondered what Jack was doing. Until he saw two hands sticking straight up out of the hole.
“Help them out,” Jack told the man.
The man pulled on the pair of hands, hauling a scrawny wild-haired man up out of the hole. Ethan could not believe his eyes.
This new man stood by the first man. Jack peered down into the hole. “Every single one of you—out.”
More hands. More men. After more pulling and hoisting, four men had emerged from the hole. The five men stood on the far wall, quiet as church mice.
“Is that all?” Jack asked.
The original man nodded slowly.
“You all know who I am, don’t you?” Every man nodded. Each looked different from the others, and yet, somehow, the same.
The third one cut an ugly eye at the first man and mumbled, “Idiot.” The original man couldn’t help but push the third man. The second man was soon pushing the original man as well, shouting, “Why did you tell him where we were?! You fool! I’ll kill you!”
Jack, once again, cocked his gun. “Enough!” he shouted. The men quieted down immediately. “Your time on this land is over. You are all going to walk out of here and you’re never going to return. You have no more rights here. I don’t care how you got on this land in the first place. As of today, you are welcome no more.” Jack turned to Ethan. “Am I right?”
Ethan looked at the line-up of men. As images of burned trees, dead cows, and the destroyed river ran through his mind, Ethan felt nothing but disgust. “Yes, Jack. You’re right.” Then, Ethan took three brave steps towards the men. “You have to do exactly what he says.”
Almost in unison, the men looked up at Ethan, nodded their heads and said, “Yes, sir.”
Jack waved toward the door with his gun. The men lowered their heads and marched in a single-file to the door. “Head east, climb the barbed wire fence, and walk until you pass out,” Jack dictated. None of the men spoke a word.
Ethan watched as the men exited the brick cabin into the blaring morning sunlight, turned, and headed east. Ethan followed Jack outside, as the men soldiered out.
Jack and Ethan stood in complete silence for twenty full minutes until they could see the men climb the barbed wire fence and continue on, well and fully out of sight.
Only then did Jack finally lower his gun.
Ethan looked up at Jack. Jack looked down at Ethan. He smiled a full smile. Ethan smiled one back. Jack turned towards his horse.
“Jack?” Ethan said. Jack turned back to him. “Thank you.”
“Always happy to help,” Jack said.
Jack and Ethan rode back in silence. As they rode, a feeling of safety and peace overcame Ethan.
When they reached Ethan’s house, Ethan dismounted and as he climbed his porch steps Jack spoke. “He’ll be back, Ethan.”
Ethan turned around. “What, Jack? You really think so?”
“What, Jack? You really think so?”
“Yes. I do. He’s gone, but he won’t be satisfied staying away.”
“I can’t hardly believe he’d come back.”
“Well… he will,” Jack said as he climbed off his horse. “And when he does, he’ll say all sorts of nice things to you. He’ll tell you he won’t be a bother this time. He’ll tell you he’s really not that bad. He’ll tell you you it wasn’t really him who’d killed your cows, poisoned the water and burned those apple trees. He’ll tell you it was just natural—something that happens. He’ll even tell you not to trust me. That I’m trying to boss you around.”
Jack squinted when he looked at Ethan. “You probably won’t think much of it, Ethan, but he’s gonna have something in his hand.”
“What?” Ethan asked.
“Not much,” Jack said. “Just… a brick.”
Ethan stared off as he listened.
“Just… one… brick,” Jack said. “He’ll want to bring one… little… brick on your land.” Jack leaned into Ethan’s line of sight. “You hear what I’m telling you?”
“I do,” Ethan said.
“One brick ain’t much, is it Ethan?”
“I reckon not.”
“But he won’t stop with one brick. He’ll come back a little later with another… and a little while later with another… and little while later with another… until—“
“That brick cabin’s done built back up,” Ethan realized.
“That’s right. But that next time around, that brick cabin will be bigger and nastier and full of even more destruction that before,” Jack said. “But he can only rebuild it… brick by brick.”
Fear ran roughshod over Ethan’s face. Jack saw and stepped closer to him. “You don’t have to worry, though.”
“What… what do I do if—when—he comes back, Jack?”
“He’ll have to ask if he can come back on your land, Ethan. When he does, you just—are you listening to me, Ethan?”
“Yes, I am.”
“You just tell him no, Ethan. You just… tell him… no.”
Ethan thought for a long moment. “Jack, I wouldn’t dare let him back—”
“Everyone says they wouldn’t dare. But a lot of people do. They do it because they get weak. Or they forget the damage he’d done. Or think they were imagining it. The people most likely to let ‘em back on are the people who think they never would.”
Ethan nodded solemnly.
“You trust me, don’t you?” Jack asked.
“I do,” Ethan said with all seriousness.
“Then, the next time he comes a-knockin’, telling you things that sound like whatever it was he told you last time to get on your land, here’s what I want you to do…” Jack paused. During his long pause, Ethan walked down a step to get closer to Jack.
“I want you to call for me. Holler real loud. Say, ‘Jack! Someone’s here and I ain’t sure if I should let him on or not!’ Then, I’ll come runnin’. I’ll help you know if you should let him on or not. Now, he’ll talk real purty to you, but I need you to trust me. Trust me when I say he needs to go. Trust me if I tell you he can’t come on your land. Trust me when I tell you he’s got a brick in his hand. Will you do that for me, Ethan?” Then, “Will you do that for you?”
In that moment, Ethan knew there was no one else in the world he trusted more than Jack. “Yes, Jack,” Ethan said. “I’ll do that.”
“Good,” Jack said. He tilted the brim of his hat up and said, “Now, get some rest, Ethan. Tomorrow morning, we’re getting this land back into shape. Even better than it was before.”
Ethan couldn’t stop a wide smile from taking over his face.
Jack smiled a soft smile back and nodded at Ethan. He climbed onto his horse and rode down the hill in front of the cottage.
As Ethan watched him ride off, he wondered to himself what was to come. He was excited about his land and what new and wonderful things would grow on it. But, he also wondered if that vile figure would return. He wondered what that vile figure would say to Ethan to try to get back on the land with nothing more than a brick in his hand. And Ethan wondered if he would have the presence of mind, strength, and trust to call on Jack in that time of need—there was just too much at stake.
Still, he had hope…
THE END