IN THE HEAT OF THE VALLEY -Chapter 1: The long trip home

Caden St John had not been home since the war started in 2001. he'd been out of the Marine Corps for 4 years when New York was attacked and immediately quit his job as a fabricator on the coast of Washington and joined the fight. As the years went by and the war raging on, he never allowed himself leave to come home. just staying in the fight mostly in the Helmand province of Afghanistan. remembering back he recalled it to be a lot like a camping trip into hell. in late 2009 he was honorably released from duty on a medical discharge from sustaining injuries from an RPG blast That took out the CH-46 he was flying in and surviving a gunshot wound from a 7.62 round to the chest after the crash. It was declared a miracle that he had survived.

Caden's plane landed at the Sea-Tac airport in late August with a shuttle ticket back home to a farming community on the other side of the Cascade's where he had grown up. He stepped outside and looked out from the terminal toward Mt. Rainer and took in a deep breath of air. A sense of something filled within him. Something that had been lost along the way. for the first time in years he felt a new beginning forming, and hint of peace in all that was behind him. At that moment Caden decided to throw his shuttle ticket into a garbage can and walk home.

Charley Wethers arrived at the Diamond Ring ranch just after twelve noon in her Chevy 3500 dually she had turned into a mobile Vet clinic. The temperatures were soaring up above the 100 degree mark as she pulled up the long drive. She took the hanky from around her neck and soaked up the moisture from above her breasts. The drive was long and normally inviting for she loved this country but as dry and hot that it had been lately she'd just assume spend the day with her own animals. Sitting in the pools down at the creek reading a book on the property that she had purchased out in the country. Charley was a strikingly beautiful woman, with dark brown hair and penetrating green eyes. She grew up as a tom boy. She loved her fathers ways of the outdoors and mechanical hobbies. They had restored a Chevy blazer together and had painted it sublime after her favorite muscle car the Hemi Cuda. She had always wanted to become a Veterinarian and live amongst a country lifestyle taking care of animals. She had never married and after a couple of failed engagements she wondered if she would ever find love again. As the truck came to a stop next to the corral a voice over the radio caught her attention:

"Thunder storms forecasted for the late afternoon".

In most conditions a cow can give birth without any assistance but if the calf is positioned abnormally or of a larger size in the birth canal, the cow may need assistance. This is the case for the visit. Charley is needed to restrain the cow (so she doesn't move around) and to check if the calf is coming out head first so she can reposition it if need be.

Caden was making his way along the Manastash ridge in the late afternoon. Both excited and restrained by seeing the valley again. He'd stopped by Dean Rogers grave site at the top for a moment to say hello to an old friend and to silently ask for advice from the heavens as he looked on to the Valley below. Dean had been a mentor to him as his wrestling coach and a former Marine that had inspired him to join straight out of Highschool. The day Caden returned home from his first enlistment Dean had fell to the floor of his classroom and passed away shortly after from wounds he'd suffered in the Vietnam war years back. Clouds rolled in overhead and began to take on vertical development and all became still. Caden knew he'd better make his last leg down the ridge into the valley before Mother Nature started her show.

The birth was a success with little help to the Heifer that had given birth for the first time. Charley removed her boots and coveralls and cleaned up. She shook the ranchers hand and a large boom sounded off overhead.

'Looks like it's going to be a good show' The rancher smiled.

'And just in time too!' Charley replied back as she turned and ran to the truck.

As she made her way back down the drive lightning crashed violently in the distance and was answered back with an explosion of thunder. She came to a bend in the road and the rain showered down almost blinding her from being able to see anything out in front of her. She heard a large pop and the truck violently took over and swerved to the right coming to an abrupt stop as it wedged itself into the ditch. She sat for a moment as the sudden panic wore off and stepped out into the soaking gale to find the tire on the passenger side front was flat. She immediately went to work trying to work the jack as the road turned to mud and the ditch began to rise with water. Suddenly a mans voice startled her.

'Mam, are you okay?'

She turned to him trying to make out who it was.

'Yes I'm fine!'

'Here, let me help you!'

'No, I can handle it! What are you doing out here anyway?'

'Oh, just out for a peaceful walk, in this beautiful weather.'

Lightning exploded behind them and ripped a tree 50 yards away in half as thunder sounded off like a cannon.

'Mam we have to get to shelter right now! Look there is a shack just down the road! Come on!'

Charley wanted to tell him to go to hell but she knew they were in danger.

'Okay. Here help me get these blankets out of the back!'

They grabbed a couple items out of the back of her truck and made a run for the shack. He kicked in the door and she followed him in. He slammed it behind them and wedged it with some kindling laying along the wall as the thunder called out once more. The shack was deserted and had a table standing in the middle of the single room. A stove sat in the corner next to the door and a bunk with a rolled up mattress towards the back.

'Here, let me help you.' He said in a calming voice. 'You're freezing cold.'

He took one of the blankets and wrapped it around her and held her trying to stop her from shivering and realized he had not held a woman in a very long time let alone one as beautiful as she was. She looked up into his eyes and suddenly felt herself go calm. She saw the scars on his face in the dull light, and recognized that he had seen a lot in his time. She found him to be ruggedly handsome and felt that there was something very gentle about him.

'What is your name anyway, stranger?' She asked as he held her.

'Caden'. He smiled down at her with ease.

'Nice to meet you Caden. My name is Charley.'

'Charley? I like that.'

'My father always called me that. It's short for Charlotte.'

The rain hammered at the tin roof with no sign of letting up. The sounds of the thunder and lightning was letting up a bit and Caden went to the window to have a look.


'Looks like we're going to be stuck here for awhile'


He looked back, and she looked at him in disbelief.


'What are we going to do?' she asked.


'Well, there is plenty of wood here. I'll at least start a fire so we can get warm.'


Caden placed some of the kindling into the stove and rolled up some newspaper he'd found up on a shelf and lit up the end, reaching in to place it under the stack of wood.


'Here, I have a change of clothes in my pack.' He reached into the bag pulling out a fleece sweater and handed it to her as the fire crackled to life.


'Take this Charley.'


She thanked him and he turned away so she could take off her wet shirt and pull it over. Caden went deeper and pulled out a flask of scotch.


'Here this will help warm you a bit until the fire gets going.'


She smiled and took a long pull as he watched her in a bit of amazement.


'That's the stuff.' she replied, and passed it back.


Caden took a slide and set the flask on the table next to her as he pulled off his waterlogged shirt. She watched him from across the table and her eyes went wild when she saw his wounded scars in the flickering of the fire light.


'Oh my god what happend to you?!' She asked.


'Oh, sorry. I was wounded in a fire fight over in Afghanistan a few months back.'


She took another drink without taking her eyes off of him.


'You were in the war over there?'


'Yeah.'


'What branch?'


'Marines.'


'Oh my' she thought to herself starting to feel a bit tipsy as the little shack started to warm up.


'Are you still in the Marines?'


'No, they finally had enough of me.' He sat down next to her and took his turn on the flask.


'Where are you from?' she asked.


'Here originally (thinking how weird that sounded to himself). 'This is the first day I've been back in nine years. Some homecoming huh.' He laughed and passed the scotch back to her.


'How long do you think we'll be stuck here?'


'At least until the rain lets up. Then we can see if we can even get to that tire on your truck to fix it. Looks like we may be staying the night here.'


'Oh my.' She whispered.


'I'll get this bed laid out and get you set up. I'll be fine on the floor.'


'Caden?'


'Yes Charley?'


'I can't let you sleep on that floor'


Caden smiled: 'A warm dry floor is luxury for my kind Mam. I'll be fine.'


They continued talking and discovering each other and the night carried on as the rain sang to them in a pleasant harmony outside amongst the darkness. The light from the fire was very inviting. Almost like that of a winter night amongst loved ones sharing that special comfort. They talked as if they were long time friends catching up on lost time.


The time came for bed and it was decided there was no hope or hurry for that matter on attempting to rescue the truck until morning. Caden pulled the blankets back on the bed as she stood behind him.


'There you go Charley safe and sound.'


She took hold of him and pressed her open mouth to his. wetting his lips with her tongue. He could taste the sting of scotch on her and answered back feverishly, grasping the back of her neck with a gentle firmness as he slid his other hand down the small of her back letting his fingers dip into her panties and angle up the curve of her buttocks ready to charge, holding back steady like a true Marine. She found him very powerful but respectfully gentle all at once and let out a moan as he worked his lips and tongue down her cheek and onto to her neck pecking at her the whole way. He picked her up off of the wood floor where she was standing barefoot on her tippy toes, and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he swung her around and took her to the bed. They carried on like primitive man, tugging and bending like comedians to get there clothes off. They held their for a moment suspended in seeing each other for the first time in their true form. He reached down and kissed her like a lover. Looking deep within her as she looked up the same at him. 


'We shouldn't do this.' they both spoke out in sync in the shared idea of a thousand thoughts racing through their minds. Ultimately giving way to respect in the idea of doing the right thing.


Caden rolled off of her and they both layed for a moment in thought looking up into the heavens as the light from the fire danced in ritual about them. Charley rolled to him laying her head to his chest hesitantly letting her fingers explore the scar of his chest wound as if try and heal it. 


'Good night beautiful. He whispered.'


'G'night.' She breathed out. And they both fell asleep as the rain slowly dissipated into a calming tap, tap, tap, upon the roof above them.

- WAIT FOR IT...

Coming soon: A time at Sea:

The true story of an American Pilot who escaped Papua New Guinea and was captured by the Chinese. 

 A story of friendship and endurance. A man who was befriended by a mad Kiwi, who called himself 'El Gato'. And there heroic journey that led them into the heart of the South Pacific.

Hears the calling of the Sirenusian Islands somewhere out amongst that Sea...

A sneek peek at 'The Bubba Diaries'.

...THE CALL CAME EARLY, EARLY ENOUGH TO FUCK, OR PASS OUT.

'PHILLY THE KID!'

'HEY, MATE! HOW YA' GOIN?'

'GOOD. HOW'S THE HUNTING?'

'YEA, YEA, GOOD MATE' 'HEY LISTEN, I NEED YOU OUGHT HERE, IF YOU WANNA HAVE A GO YOU OL' HO TEP.'

'HOW SOON?'

'HOW QUICK CAN YOU GET ON A PLANE TO WEE WAK?'

'WHERE THE FUCK IS WEWAK?'

'HA, HA, IT'S IN PAPUA NEW GUINEA MAN!'

HOLY SHIT, BUBBA THOUGHT TO HIMSELF

'WHAT'S THE GIG, MAN?'

'YEA, RIGHT, MAYBE NOT OVER THE PHONE, THERE BUBBA. I RAN INTO A LITTLE TROUBLES IN RABAUL, AND CARMEL NOW THAT I'M AT IT.'

'ROG. I'LL CALL THE AIRLINES AND LET YA, KNOW WHEN I'M LEAVING.'

'YEA, RIGHTY O', THE BOAT LEAVES IN A FEW DAYS MATE, SO KICK 'ER IN THE GUTS IF YA CAN/.'

'A FUCKING BOAT!? ALRIGHT, I'LL CHOP, CHOP GIRLFRIEND, AND GIVE YA A CALL BACK WITH AN ETA.'

YA, YA NO WORRIES, MATE. GIVES US A CALL WHEN YOUR SETTLED, AND I'LL SHOUT AT YA IN A FEW DAYS.'

RIGHT ON MAN, I'LL BE LOOKING FORWARD TO IT'

RIGHTY O, I'LL CATCH YA LATER, CHEERS

ROGIE' LATERS BUDDY

BUBBA ANOUNCED HIS NAKEDNESS TO THE EARLY MORNING RAIN AS THE SHEET FELL TO THE FLOOR IN AN ATTIC HE WAS STARTING TO CALL HOME IN LONG BEACH CA.
THE KETTLE BEGAN TO WHISTLE AS THE DEAL WAS MADE WITH THE AIRLINES, AND A CUP OF INSTANT WAS POURED. THE PACKING BEGAN. MOSTLY CARGO SHORTS AND SHORT SLEEVE WESTERN SHIRTS. THE REST WAS THE SURVIVAL GEAR HE'D CARRIED WITH HIM FOR THAT DAY WHEN IT WAS NEEDED. A COUPLE OF BOOKS ON AERODYNAMICS, AND THEORY, AND ONE FOR DANGEROUS BOY'S. HIS TRUSTY FIELD KNIFE HE LOVED SO DEARLY, LIKE A LOVER HIS KIT WAS, HE HAD BEEN A MARINE AND KNEW THE SCORE ON BEING PREPARED, AND KNEW HIS TRAINING WOULD COME TO TASK WHEN IT WOULD CALL.

'PHILY BOB THORTON'

HEY, SNAKEDOCTOR

HEY, MAN I'M BRISBANE/ PORT MORESBY. PORT MORESBY/MADANG. MADANG/WEWAK. I'LL SEE YA IN 48 HRS.

'YA, YA, RIGHTY O. HEY LISTEN, UH, BIT OF TROUBLES IN PORT MORESBY YESTERDAY, MATE. SEEMS A BUTCHER WENT TO TOWN.

WHAT DO YA MEAN. A MASSACRE?

YA, MATE THE AIRPORT GOT GUNNED DOWN. LOT'S A BLOOD SHED, MACHETE'S AND SUCH. NATIVE'S ARE A BIT RESTLESS IN THIS COUNTRY SO WATCH YOUR BACKSIDE MATE. AND BE SURE AND SLIP 'EM A TWENTY SPOT AT THEE OLD CUSTOMS THERE.

ROG, WILL DO, CATCH YA LATER.

BUBBA SHOOK HIS HEAD A LITTLE WITH HALF A SMILE AND LIT HIS FIRST SMOKE OF THE DAY....

Chapter 2

The Voyage

Chavez dropped Bubba off at LAX and they Man hugged a goodbye. Everyone had boarded The Quantas flight and there was an odd sense of quiet. Bubba started to look around as the stewardesses went about closing the upper head bins.

‘Excuse Me Miss?’

‘Yes how may I help You?’

‘I was wondering. Isn’t there a black stewardess on board?’ Bubba looked around as He’d popped the question.

‘Sir. I’m not sure I understand the question.’ Mean while the wave had begun and more and more of the passengers were turning their head toward the conversation, wondering where this was about to go.

‘Well, You always hear about these planes going down into the ocean.’ Bubba could feel the tension electrifying the air.

‘Sir, You’re starting to upset the other passengers.’

‘Well, all I’m saying is I noticed there wasn’t a black stewardess on board and I’m a little confused.’

‘Sir?!’

‘Ya see, the thing is, is that all I’ve ever heard is that the only thing that survives a wreck like that is that little black box. And I want to make sure I’m in that son of a bitch before she goes down.’

By now the whole section was in on the conversation, and everything went quiet. The stewardess looked as if she’d seen something she never should have in horror. It took a few seconds for it to settle in. the flight being full of mostly Ausie’s and Kiwi’s processed what was said and erupted into laughter. The stewardess still with a look of space and time walked away with a smile of embarrassment on her face. A face that Bubba found very delicious.

‘That was a good one mate!’ ‘A bit more choke and You would have had Her started!’

Bubba grinned as the slaps on the back and promises of rounds of drinks were given.

The flight took forever and 3 days to get to Australia. Bubba reccolected he’d been drunk twice and ate through a whole box of nicoretes. While wandering the isle’s asking if anyone smoked He was finally escorted back to his seat....

There's a fact in here somewhere, although I can't imagine a fact existing, other than something imagined and agreed. A thought is only a theory or an assumption. Ideas are all we have. We are all just buoys out on an ocean of conscience. Any chance of a frequency causing a vibration will effect us all. Some in a small way, others greater. The only fact I can imagine in my own thoughts to exist amongst our ignorant existence, is that of two people, truly agreeing on one singularity. A fact maybe as a whole, is that stupid people shouldn't breed... The smart one's seem to hold back for obvious reasons... I say, smack an ass. Smack a hot and sexy gorgeous ass.

-- Thank You, Sheryl. The thing I assume, that we tend to forget in this tragedy, is the comedy. And represented by the two, and a little gray area. I would assume to be the Ying and Yang. The gray being... Endurance.

A RAMBLING APOLOGY...TWO CANS AND A STRING. STRECHED OUT BETWEEN TWO SEPERATED BEACHES

I've sent a dear friend away along with the feelings I carry inside. A friend that has rarely been seen nor shared in the held memories of those times in the flesh. My thoughts and strengths falsely created and laid out like a military action in this scene are that of a ridiculous sense of doing the right thing. Those feelings still exist. That friend still exists, and I've throw it away. And perhaps she's gone now, and left? all that was there in conscience along that distant beach. Scattered about like the broken shells once occupied by life, to be cast and carried away by tide only to find its way to another shore as tumbled sand. The right thing to do would be to extend an apologetic gesture, and ask for forgiveness. But they've been beaten into a cliche. Yet another movie, regergatated into another 8 dollar ticket swept up from sticky theater floor. At least Matthew is living well from those shitty movies in Malibu now. Smoking too much grass and playing His bongo's as loud as He wishes in the nude. DREAMS have a funny way of coming together, only usually in a twisted form of what was not exactly hoped for or expected. It may seem that I am getting off the tracks. I tend to do that. The reality is that an idea is planted and is watered regularly and grows into something = a possibility. That possibility must be picked at the right time before it's too late, or stored in a place that will keep it from shriveling back into nothing. I guess a simple apology will due. The imagination I live with, has created beautiful things in my reality. I hope aswell for others at times. Other times it's created wrong, or just layed dormant. Possibly best dormant. But. I don't want to be heard, I just feel compelled to say something. I want to apologize. The greatest thing in this life is the beauty and hope You create for it and Your relationship with the one's who believe in You. And as important what you give back to them. The other thing of life is the endurance - There is no easy way to it. Just pushing forward through the mess of it. every day hurdles and challenges. It is very much there as I imagine this thing being a river your forced into down deep in a canyon with vertical walls on each side. At the bottom is giving up, and at the top is that place we all strive and live for... To do the easy thing is to let the river take You and let the current carry you away letting all go into nothing. The other way is obvious - Push on with that mighty spark inside igniting it like a flame thrower out into the Universe and Yelling out 'NOT ME YOU SON OF A BITCH, NOT TODAY, NOT NOW, NOT EVER!' And pushing through the current uphill one force full leg at a time. One step, then another. Smiling back at the Son of a Bitch showing it that Your spirit will never be defeated. One of My favorite quotes was given to Me by a Woman I shared a piece of My life with, lost in time now. I don't remember the Author but I still have the quote She gave Me stuffed in a book somewhere. It read 'I'm not afraid of storms, for I'm learning to sail My ship'. That always meant a great deal to Me. And for that matter Her as well. Getting to a point here somewhere. I usually will hide it in amongst My ramblings for You to dig it out. I have rare moments, one's where I may just give You a look and it's all there in My eye's. But We are neither here, nor there. What ever endavours and paths You take out there amongst the Mystery I will always be here for You. One of the things I've learned (and this may have been recent from a mutual friend) is that no matter what, the friendship is the most important thing. When it comes to people who share that kindred spark. If that seizes for what ever reason, and is simply tossed in the scrap pile, then what ever was the point. It wasn't the idea that I had thrown away. It was the friendship. For that I am wrong. And let it be if another birth is shit out the ass of some Bastard living in between the worlds of Venice and Santa Monica and lands on His/Her scripted writings because I'm using the cliche to ask if You were to ever find it within that beautiful Heart of Yours to reopen that door to let an old friend back in from the cold. I am sorry...

Ramblings... Will God ever let Us in?

A fond farewell to getting punched in the cock. There's no jury in a room out back anywhere to take to long on a decision of my fate. I've hung them all with a smile and the piano wire used to play my song.

With that being said, one of my closest friends is on his way out. He's giving it all up, the early morning scrambles for the best surf, the sushi hideouts from Santa Barbara to the front door of Mahi's in Seal Beach, the laughs that Venice has best to offer, those old days of the Hollywood nights. and one of the best starts to a Piloting career I've seen, for an idea. One that I smile about. The idea of a Woman on the other side. A past reflection of what could have been and what could possibly be.

A bitter sweet farewell we sat in the back yard of the Wardlow house rolling American Spirits and kicking off a three day bender with folk songs from Chase's guitar, that Angelic voice haunting the sky with 'shut your mouth'. All around the smell of the bbq and hints of Stuarts cigars. A cheers to the flowing lime brilliance of a Mexican river of beer we all sat and took in yet another moment. 3 a.m. came fast and it was just Him and I sitting near the street in beach chairs. The philosophy and the last smoke we witnessed what does not exist. An end.

The next day came early enuff to scramble eggs and start in on the last of the Tecate with orange juice and a little Drive By Truckers. The day went on and we kept at it, not giving up hope on what we had started. Before we knew it was evening and the depth of Our discussions found no bottom. Stuart announced himself to this thing from a long day of flying with his first beer and soon after Josh showed up with His clubs and we were off to the course. Other than the familiar blur, that day had ended with the infamous Sea Urchent shots that I had earned the right to buy on the last hole and the journey home to pass out gracefully a quarter way through 'Taken'.

On the 3rd day the plan was simple. We were going to take to a siesta and meet at the World Cafe in Santa Monica for Chase's show at 7 p.m. But I being the pussy that I am, bowed out after a call to work in Hollywood the next morning and headed out to the Ports Of Call in San Pedro to make ready the Pad and shack for the weekend.

In that moment we talked of music, the Women We love, and to the possibilities and the mystery out ahead of Us. The only part of our past that came up in those days, were of Our fallen, and the tiping of Our glasses. To them and the possibilities that come from those days that are behind Us now.

I stood on the rooftop of the Mondrian Hotel this morning and looked out over West Hollywood. The ants were crawling about the ritual and flashing shots at the house of blues, and I zoomed in on a couple of wanna be actress's practicing their palaties on the lonely street on the east side. The American Idol blow out is here tonight and I can't wait to get the fuck out. I wont lie about the idea of diving into this thing in the strangest of ways... A pill popping fantasy of punching out Adam Lambert and doing rails off Allison Iraheta's bare ass. (I really hope she's of age - but what would it matter in this train wreck when all is said and done.) I go further,. The circus would be at the top of it's glory as I come back from the sweaty outrages session, a smelling combo of pussy, scotch and Marlboro's from the 12th floor suite only to make things worse or better by making my departure through the very strange post modern facade of an abnormally white lobby by puking on Adam while I try to shake his hand and congratulate him on being another asshole to join the ranks...

I'll see You my friend... when You've had Your fill and decide to come home...

'As I'm leaving' is my background. It stands in the mirror as I drive away. I follow the sun as it is setting and I'm somewhere I've never been and somewhere I always was.

The thing that is not understood, that I have come to in this nanu sliver of time is that the idea of something in most cases is a much better place to be than the loss of it and the damage that Our souls can do to each other. The past I'm left with and the one I've created is very much there. (in that past). There's no getting that back or changing it. Moving on and leaving it there is the only way. But if one is to forget. They will surely repeat it. (as it has been written). There is a continuance of this repetition that is constant in our universe. The digger finds this in every shovel that goes into the earth. The winners being the one's to right Our history as we are to know it as that fact without a question. Even though the likely hood of every book written to inform us on 'what had happened' is more than likely a fabrication. All Bull shitting lies to mold and shape our enslaved vision. Well I'm here to stop my own digging of past and start building a new from my mistakes. No lies to be written, for Myself, and all I have wronged are my only judge in the end, and whatever goes down in My book, will be that of My own truth. Even if there is no hope for Me.

The Bubba Diaries

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