Demons at the gate.
Demons do not always visit at night.
There was a sense of slacking that the medieval monks termed the 'Mid-Day Demon'. It was mid-day, and I was taking a break from my cement form scraping duties when the sound of a sputtering engine was heard rounding the trees. To my prejudiced ears, it sounded like trouble. It had the sound of the kind of vehicle a slacker, a mid-day demon would drive, poking around for opportunities to steal from the unwary.
In a moment a last-legger, beat-up silver minivan came into view on my driveway. As soon as I saw him, he saw us. He spun around and sped off my property as I shouted and gesticulated as I trotted toward trouble, chasing the suspicious noise-maker from my marked property through the gate we had left open while working.
Later in the afternoon that October 25th, Phil and Dave called it quits and left to return the rented forms. I was alone. I was thinking it would be a good opportunity to do some target practice with my Colt 32 handgun. I was loading the magazine when a gray Honda came trolling up the drive. I holstered my pistol, and marched down the center of the gravel strip holding up my hands indicating that they needed to stop. My holstered sidearm was openly visible as I approached the intruder.
The man in the passenger seat threw his hands out the window as I strode toward the car, indicating that he didn't want to be shot for ignoring the posted Private Property, No Trespassing signs on the open gate. The woman driver rolled down her window and I glared in at her, using strong language, a typical for me, I asked her "What the fuck are you doing on my land? The place is posted No Trespassing, this is private property. Get the hell off my property!"
She was indignant, explaining "The gate has always been closed, and we saw that it was open and we wanted to..."
I interrupted her excuses, "This is private property, stupid fucking idiots like you are not welcome, even if I have my gate open, it is not an invitation to enter my place! It says 'NO trespassing'. I don't want you here."
She argued with me, "Well we just wanted to see..."
I shouted at her, "We've had a lot of problems here. The gate was always closed for a reason. You are not that special. Those signs apply to you, you sweet ass bitch."
Her passenger, eyeing my gun on my hip and listening to my unmistakable hostile tone, repeated, "Hey man, we don't want any trouble. We'll leave."
She continued in her offended voice, "OK, we'll leave then" [if you are going to treat us so rude and threaten us]. I snapped photos of them as they backed out. Some people.
On Saturday morning, I stood at the small sink washing my face in a bowl of warm water that I had heated in the trailer's microwave. It is an overcast morning the day before Halloween. I see two young men walking up my driveway as I look out the trailer window. Trespassers!
Six hundred feet down the gravel driveway the robust steel gate is locked. The posted signs say:
NO TRESPASSING
PRIVATE PROPERTY.
I pull my shotgun from the closet and step out of the trailer to confront the two. There eyes widen at the sight of my gun as they explain that Ivan sent them.
I hold the stock of my shot gun in one hand and relax. "Sorry, but you were supposed to call to let me know you were coming. I've had a lot of problems with bad people coming onto my property."
Phil had given me hope earlier in the week that a recommendation from his sales rep at Cascade Lumberyard through his contact with the truss manufacturing salesman had led to Phil calling Ivan, who may be able to supply a framing crew shortly. Ivan got back with Phil and said he would call Phil later and send somebody out to the job site - maybe.
I apologized for the rude greeting as I walked with Jose back to the gate to unlock it and let him in with his F-150.
I called Phil to let him know Ivan's men were on location. Phil drove up twenty minutes later and they asked if he would like them to start on Tuesday?
Phil told them, "Not until I know how much this is going to cost. If I like the price, then you can start."
Phil dickered with Ivan over the phone and got $11,000 cut in the initial bid. It looked like we had located a framing crew. They would come out and start on Tuesday, November 2nd.
The next afternoon, the rain had paused and the sun slipped under the clouds as it lowered to the tree tops in the west. It was All Hallows Eve, Halloween; an inauspicious anniversary had arrived. It was five years ago that evil came onto our property and burned our vacant house to the ground. I had been deprived of not only rental income, but my sense of trust and sanctity of a man's property. It was all in ashes now. I retrieved my shot gun and chambered three shells and shot 00 load into the woods on the hillside to frighten off any lurking evil demons on the fifth anniversary of the arson fire that destroyed the old home. The smoke curled from my 12 gauge barrel and the report echoed among the firs and cedars. I had established a living presence on my place and the demons were being kept beyond the gate.
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