The Mulligan by Nathan Jorgenson

Author:Nathan Jorgenson [Jorgenson, Nathan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-9746370-5-1
Publisher: Flat Rock Publishing
Published: 2011-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

Several hurricane lanterns burned inside the cabin, and a thin, yellow glow illuminated the kitchen. Junior, Norm, and Murdo sat at the kitchen table and watched Cletto shuffle a deck of playing cards. Each of them had a cup filled with ice and whisky.

James leaned back in a kitchen chair and held a book close to his face, just beneath a lantern that had been hung in a corner away from the table.

When Joe and Mr. Crossman stepped into the cabin, all eyes turned to Joe.

“I’m all right,” Joe said “You don’t need to worry about me.” He took his hat off and hung it on a nail protruding from a two-by-four near the door. “I’ve just had a lot happen to me lately, and what you saw—well, that was a lot of … well, it was things I need to work out for myself. I’ll be all right.”

The men at the table nodded to Joe but said nothing.

“Would you like a drink, Joe?” Mr. Crossman asked.

“Diet soda,” Joe replied.

It was James who first began to let things return to normal. “Hey, Joe, I got your book for you, and Jake is waiting for you too.” Jake was curled up on an old blanket at James’s feet.

By the time Joe settled into the chair next to James, the men had resumed their card game. James had Lonesome Dove tipped toward the lantern, trying to get better light onto the pages. Jake raised his head, then lowered it and rolled onto his side when Joe leaned back in his chair and made eye contact with Mr. Crossman.

Jim Crossman raised the cup in his right hand, and Joe heard ice cubes sloshing around in the whisky, clinking against the cup. A slow nod from Jim Crossman told Joe not to worry; things were all right.

Joe raised his diet soda and returned the nod. Then he opened Riders of the Purple Sage and tipped it toward the same lantern James was using. He stared at the page and collected his thoughts for a moment before he started reading. The current he’d stepped into back there in Rochester was carrying him someplace good—someplace he needed to be. He felt certain of that. But just where was that place?

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