The Split Rail Commonality...

“Bill.”

“Dean.”

The two men both removed a cowhide glove and extended a weathered hand over the split-rail that divided their shared properties. Moments ago I heeded Mr. Hudgins’ instructions to stay in the truck. I couldn’t argue - it was late autumn and the truck was warm. I rolled down the window and pulled my collar up close to my neck as I watched and listened to the two men speak.

“Almost here.”

“Yep. Almost.”

Both men looked up at the sky, overcast and gray. Mr. Hudgins frowned and Mr. Shultz looked to his boot and spit near it.

“D’ja git that last cutting up?”

“Yes sir. Almost didn’t make’er though… thought It was gonna mildew out there after
I got’er all raked up. That dry week a’ways back was a blessing though. Bailed, hauled, stacked – ‘bout three days. ”

Mr. Shultz raised then dropped his eyebrows and nodded. I always liked watching Mr. Hudgins and Mr. Shultz speak to one another. A lot could be ascertained by their gruff facial expressions and stiff body language.

“Thinkin’ ‘bout shingling up that ole’ add-on there.”

Mr. Shultz spun slowly away from his side of the fence and gestured with his chin to a large structure he had added to the side of his barn a while back.

We had been up for several hours when Mr. Hudgins explained his desire to drive the fence line prior to the first snowfall. I collected hammers, hog pliers, a couple spades and a sack of fencing nails as well as two spools of barbed wire from the tack room in the back of the barn as Mr. Hudgins had instructed. At the pick-up he handed me two firearms, a rifle and a shot gun, an ice chest with cold-cut sandwiches and beer, and a thermos of black coffee... I hated coffee black but Mr. Hudgins’ opinion on this matter was one of practicality rather than yielding taste. I stowed the guns on rack above the seat and loaded everything else in the back in a manner that would disallow anything to roll around and save me an ass chewing.

“Well hell Dean, you been talkin’ ‘bout coverin’ up that tar paper since spring. Look, I got nine’er ten good sized cedar logs in my wood pile, you’re welcome to’um.”

Mr. Hudgins now gestured to his property by pointing his finger yet never turning his face from Mr. Shultz.

“Oh Yeah? …I was just gonna pick some up from Jerrup Garcia’s place and… ”

“Garcia’s a good man Dean and he’ll give’ya a fair price but mine’er just sittin’ there and, like I said, you’re welcome to’um.”

Mr. Hudgins always offered folks stuff he add a little extra of. Wire, twine, nails, wheelbarrow… just about anything. An offer of something from Mr. Hudgins was a directive and not an option. You took it. Not because you wanted to please him but because you needed it and he wanted you to have it.

“Alright Bill. Would wanna help me split shingle then?”

“Well, I suppose…”

“I’m only teasing Bill – I do appreciate it and I’d be glad to pay ya.”

“No sir. Consider’um yers. I’ll have Jacob bring’em over tomorrow.”

“That’d be great Bill. I’ma head on back and git some lunch… y’all be careful and have a great afternoon”

“Same to you Dean.”

The cold air no longer displayed their conversational breath as Mr. Shultz turned towards home and Mr. Hudgins toward the pick-up. I started rolling up the window in anticipation of the truck’s heater, that and I didn’t want Mr. Hudgins to think I was eavesdropping.

Mr. Hudgins open the door, climbed in and asked where I had put the thermos. I handed it to him and watched him unscrew the top and pour some black coffee into the thermos’ cap.

“Everything alright with Dean Shultz?”

“Mister Shultz is doing just fine. Did you pack them fencing nails?”

Mr. Hudgins never mentioned the cedar posts he had offered Mr. Shultz and I’d lay bets to say Mr. Shultz’ll never mention’em to his wife or family… men like this didn’t have to. They were two friends discussing simple matters only needing to be voiced once.

Commonality, similarity, and friendship separated only by a split-rail fence.