the good fortune of nathaniel hester excerpt

7/28/2019 The Good Fortune of Nathaniel Hester Excerpt

1/9

On a fine and hot day in one of the best months of June Id ever enjoyed, Id taken a cup of

coffee off the pot and went about my usual business by sitting down with both it and the prior

evenings newspaper. Nothing of note had happened the day before, but I did note it odd that there

was a report in the paper of acres of crops suddenly being killed in a span of days. If it were some

sort of rite of mischief being carried out by some of the boys in my neighborhood, I had a mind to

pay their parents a visit to discuss the legal implications.

Business called, however. After draining my cup and finishing the article on the lost acres, I

put on my straw hat and headed out my front door.

It was barely eight in the morning, and in was already scorching hot outside. Even though it

was barely June, Summer had shown her fiery wrath early this year. The rusted thermometer on

my front porch had risen to over ninety-five degrees the day before, and it wouldnt surprise me any

to see it equal or greater to that today.

Looking over to the side of my front yard, I saw the charred remains of some wood that Id

burned a few nights prior to help rid my property of mosquitos and other insects. The smoke

proved to be a good deterrent, and the campfires with neighbors were fairly pleasant too. I had a

few unburned sections to cut that morning which would eventually find their way into a new

section of fence, but I found the heat to win out against that particular work ethic. Unbuttoning the

top of my plaid shirt to cool off a little, I looked ahead in front of me to only be able to see a mile or

so into the Southern humidity.

My law offices were about three miles from my home into town beyond a curve past my


2/9

uncles crops, and I figured it was time for me to head in for the day. Normally, this was a fairly

leisurely walk that would take only a half an hour, but enduring the sun today would make it less

than a pleasure.

Hoping to cut off at least a few minutes out of my commute, I headed in a route that would

take me right through the alleys of Uncle Raymonds rows of corn. I suspected that hed take issue

with me walking through his farmland full of various produce, but walking directly between

cornrows wasnt my intention. A relatively narrow hallway of corn nearly five feet wide presented

itself to me, and I reckoned that it would take me to the street a block away from my law offices.

Not only did the shortcut interest me, but it was a good year for his corn, and the nearly seven foot

stalks would provide a bit of long and welcome shade in the early morning Summer sun as well.

Thoughts of a good harvest to come were running through my head, as something odd began

to present itself to me in the near horizon. It appeared that within a few hundred yards that the

crops were opening up, but I knew that I had barely gone far enough to make it to my office just yet.

Coming closer to the opening, I found myself in a field of corn, though I knew that Uncle Raymond

would not care one bit for the shape of it.

The stalks looked as if they had all been bent exactly ninety degrees downward, all

uniformly from about six inches from the soil. At least a few hundred cubic yards had been done like

this, creating an expanse on either side of the lane that Id been using to guide myself to town.

I began to recall that mornings newspaper that brought the news of similar issues with crops

on the other side of town, but I found myself unsure of whether or not this was the fault of the


3/9

hell-raising youngsters that Id suspected earlier. It was possible that theyd engineered some new

way of killing time and making themselves useless, but I couldnt imagine how anything they may

have invented would have left such a curious footprint in the crops.

I spent about ten minutes inspecting other stalks of corn in the opening, but there really was

nothing to see. Every stalk in this small area was bent exactly the same way. I made a mental note to

stop by the sheriff's building later in the day to report on what Id found and inquire if theyd heard

anything else about the similar case, but then finally went about my business and headed to my

office.

After finally emerging out of shortening stalks and into the dusty back roads of town, I made

my way a few blocks to my modest workplace. Taking to some paperwork at my small desk started

to fade the curious memory of the cornfield out of my mind by lunchtime, replacing those thoughts

with one of a barbeque sandwich at the cafeteria down the street.

By mid-afternoon when Id finished reviewing documents pertaining to an upcoming case

the next month, Id forgotten the morning incident altogether. Putting on my straw hat before

heading out the door, my thoughts began to return to that of settling down and raising a family. If

Ashlyn would have me, Id made a point of finally working up the courage to call on her tomorrow

evening and maybe eventually putting thought to starting a family.

Thankfully though, the cornfield Id seen earlier in the day would eventually present itself

with an adventure far less dangerous.


4/9


5/9

The next morning, thoughts of mysterious corn stalks had completely left my consciousness

altogether. Id woken early enough in the morning that the sun had barely shown itself above the

Alabama foothills in the distance, so I decided to spoil myself by firing up the oven to put on a few

eggs before the morning became as hot as it did the day before. Productivity at the office was a goal

Id set myself to after a full breakfast, so I piled on six eggs, five pieces of toast, and a mess of

flapjacks all in one plate. Id made my way through less than half of that before deciding Id had

enough and readied myself for a full day of law studying.

Unfortunately however, those intentions completely disappeared as soon as I opened my

front door.

No sooner than Id taken one foot out the door, I came within a few mere feet of the strangest

man that Id ever met. The first sight of him instantly gave me a shock, chiefly because the

gentleman in front of me barely looked like one at all. Instead, he gave me the impression of a boy

inside of an oversized man suit, if that makes any sense at all. His eyes looked glossed over, his hands

hung loosely and deadly by his sides, and the fellow looked as if he might topple over in any

direction with a gust of the wind. His clothes appeared to have come directly out of the Sears and

Roebuck Catalog, although his coat seemed to be a size too small, and his dungarees a size too large.

There seemed to be no other explanation other than the one Id assumed. If this were the

case, I could do little for him.

Sir, if youve had a long night of drinking, Im afraid I cant be of much use to you.

The poor man continued to look glossed over, staring right over my shoulder and not even


6/9

appearing to merely acknowledge the fact that I even existed.

Pardon me mister, I continued, youre welcome to to be my guest here, but Im on my way

out to work right now.

For a few moments more, there was still nothing out of the fellow. Finally, his eyes seemed

to take a life and color to them, twitching here and there as if he was reading something behind me.

Taking a quick turn around, I made sure that there in fact wasnt anything in that direction.

Instinctively looking to see if any of my mothers beloved silverware had been taken out off of my

mahogany chest in my vestiview, I finally heard a gurgle coming from the stranger.

Amongst his throaty choking sounds, the only word that I could discern out of him was that

of .....fuel. Just as I was about to ask if I could help the confused poor soul, he pulled out a

handkerchief and made the most god awful sound Id heard since my days at university.

Clearing his throat again more gracefully this time, he said again ......fuel.

Well sir, I dont know what you mean, but why dont you come in and make yourself at

home and have a drink or something?

You see, Southern Hospitality dictated that at I at least take care of the gentleman for the

moment, especially considering both his state and that of the hot day. I had the man sit down in my

foyer, and brought back a glass of water that I hoped would at least assist him in his condition.

Needfully looking at the glass as I handed it to him, the man swallowed the contents of a

large Mason jar just as fast as if hed swallowed a solitary drop.

....We thank you, was finally the first full sentence that he was able to put together.


7/9

My pleasure, I told him. Im Nathaniel Hester, but just call me Nathan. Im a lawyer by

profession and also a state senator for this area, and Im pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr....

Typically in this kind of situation, a man trails off at the end of this statement so the other

can fill him in on his name. Ive played this rather silly expected social game with many in my time in

both law and politics, but this fellow seems to have not been informed of the rules of it.

...We thank you.

Yes, uh, now why dont you tell me where youre from, friend? I dont believe Ive seen you

around in our town before.

.......No, you would not have, he said. but we have been here before.

We? I ask him. Are you here with some colleagues in the area?

.......You may say so.

Finally taking part in extended conversation with the man was strange in a way that I simply

could not pinpoint at the time. I rarely took part in telephone calls, as I preferred to do my business

face to face and with a handshake. Talking with this man reminded me why that was the case.

Though the two of us were less than four feet from each other, I felt as though we were miles apart.

He still evidently couldnt bring himself to look me in the eye, and seemed to always wait a moment

before responding to just about anything at all.

Before I could ask if he was a foreigner who somehow made it to our region of the country,

he interrupted what was about to be a line of questioning that I normally utilized in a courtroom.

...We...must apologize for our recent ...parking, he says. The first noticeable expression that


8/9

Ive gauged from him yet came here, but I was surprised to see the faint eyes of a guilty man.

Friend, Ive not seen any vehicle of yours nearby.

...No. Not combustion engine.

He quickly stood up and put his hand in his pocket, forcing me to stand up and begin to make

a reach for the revolver sitting just out of reach in my chest of drawers. While I optimistically

wanted to trust the man, for all I knew at this point he was some sort of Yankee or foreigner out to

make a buck off of a dumb hick. I may have been one, but not the other, and wasnt going to be taken

advantage of.

...NO! No harm is intended. His open hands came up to his chest a few seconds later,

seemingly to imply that he had no weapon and meant what he said.

Youll have to forgive me, I just dont know you yet is all, I told him sincerely.

....Yes. Correct and wise, Nathaniel Hester.

He put his hand back towards his front pocket, to which I went out of my way to make no

response to this time around.

...Here is what you call a key to our ...vehicle. We are ...double parked. You can help by

moving it for us.

This still didnt make a bean of sense to me, but I was still happy enough to help the man out.

Especially since to me, he was obviously from out of town, and I wanted him to have a good

impression of ours when he returns to his. I reached out to take his key, but what he held in his hand

was unlike any key Id ever seen. He dropped it out of his hand into mine, and it surprisingly felt ice


9/9

cold to the touch on such a Summer morning. After taking a second to inspect it, I decided that it

looked more like a piece of stone with Cherokee writing more than anything.

After looking back up to inquire the man about it, hed already taken a few slow steps back

towards my front door.

Friend, theres no reason to leave, why dont you sit yourself down to some griddle cakes I

have left..

...No. We must be on our way. .We will see Nathaniel again.

After this, he proceeded to run out the door in the strangest gate Ive ever seen a man take.

When most men run, they simply put one foot far out in front of the other in the fastest manner than

they can. This fellow was taking the kind of steps youd take if you were sneaking behind a friend

with some sort of funny ambush in mind, but he was still getting along just as fast as any able-bodied

and athletic youngster still in school.

Staring at him as he disappeared off into the growing Alabama humidity, I said aloud the only

thought that I could muster.

.....well, Ill be damned.

the good fortune of nathaniel hester excerpt

Documents