Republic of Dirt Read Online Free Page A

my mother’s plan to encourage me to become more athletic. I was fifteen. You show me the fifteen-year-old heavy metal fan who wants to take up trampoline sports and I’ll show you a guy who has more problems than me.
    Anyway, while the mule was rampaging around my childhood home, I screamed, Prudence screamed, Sara screamed. I’m pretty sure even the mule screamed before doing the smart thing and freezing in place, both front legs having ripped through the rotten fabric of the trampoline, back legs splayed out behind.
    The only one who didn’t scream was Earl, who’d been working behind me, clearing blockages out of the drip irrigation system to prepare it for winter.
    When all the yelling stopped, he said, “Well, Jesus Christ, what’s next? It never ends around this place.”
    And then we went over to see if we could help. I went slowly, because mules are not among my core competence categories and I never liked that trampoline from the day my mom brought it home. I was just glad Sara’s parents weren’t around to see the latest show of poor role-modeling and unsafe home environment on the part of Woefield Farm’s management team. I’m starting to think Prudence should go see someone.

Earl
    I used to know a gal who rode a mule. Her name was Ella Grace and she was a crackerjack little rider. Even invited me to go double on that mule of hers, but I was never much for riding. I guess that gave me an appreciation for mules, ‘specially ones with nice markings. The one Prudence come dragging up the road was a handsome bastard, even when he found himself stuck in a goddamned trampoline across the road.
    It’s a good thing that mule is smart. This one waited still as a statue while Prudence got some wire snips to cut him out of that contraption kids is supposed to jump on but that usually end being leaf catchers out in the backyard. Mule didn’t flinch at all, though he got a real sour look on his face and bared his great yellow teeth at her a few times like he was getting ready to take a bite.
    She told us the mule’s name is Lucky and I figure that’s a piss-poor name for an animal that ends up living here.
    When she got him loose, the whole bunch of us, Seth, Prudence, Sara and me, led that mule out of that mess of a backyard and upthe road to our place. He come along just fine. Head high, swinging side to side, big ears swiveling around, looking around like nothing happened. He was probably embarrassed and I can’t say as I blame him. It’s hard to keep your pride in a place like this. Just ask me.
    I wonder what ever happened to Ella Grace and her mule. I lost touch with her after the incident with her and my brother Merle. There wasn’t a woman anywhere he could keep his hands off, not even the only one who ever offered me to ride double on a mule. When Prudence came to the farm, she got to digging into my private history and figured out my brother was Merle Clemente and that I was what some people called the Lost High Lonesome Brother. Stupid thing to call me. I was never lost. I was right here on Woefield Farm.
    Prudence convinced Merle to come all the way here to play a reunion concert with me as a fund-raiser for the farm this summer. Every bluegrass fan came out of the woodwork for that one. We raised a few dollars to keep the bank off our backs and Merle give me my cut of the money he got from selling our family place and I bought myself a half ownership on this place, even though what I really wanted was to get myself a truck and camper and get on the road. Couldn’t do it though. Didn’t want to leave little Sara or Prudence, who is energetic but also a little haywire.
    Me and Merle left it on good terms after the concert. He keeps calling to ask me to come on tour with him and I keep saying hell no, and he says okay. Then he calls a few weeks later to ask the same question all over again. My older brother didn’t get to be the so-called godfather of bluegrass music by not getting his way.