The Day the River Turned Back

Life used to be so simple for Everette Montgomery growing up in Tenbrook Oregon. It was a small town that settled within the Cascade Mountains just outside of Salem. As a boy, Everette used to wonder why they called it Tenbrook when there were only five rivers that ran every which way in and around the surrounding area. Apparently, they named it Tenbrook because, legend has it, each of the five rivers would change course and flow the opposite direction whenever something major was about to happen.

Everette would watch the river flowing as a boy; the ones that ran North to South never went South to North, and likewise were the ones that ran East to West. Nothing ever changed in all of Everette’s 22 years living in Tenbrook.

They ought to name it Five-Brook n’ Two County. Although, it felt to Everette that it never really belonged to either of the two surrounding Counties. It never really belonged anywhere. And neither did he.

As a boy, being settled between two Counties, five rivers that have yet to change their course, and a mountain range that felt like a fortress, was like playing in a treehouse and slaying mythical dragons.

Although Everette was not a boy anymore.

Being nestled between two Counties meant belonging to neither.

The five rivers were proof that things will never change.

And the mountain range became the walls of a prison.

From the time Everette was 15, he worked at the Texaco station. The 1950’s were a time of growth and expansion. Everybody running every which way to get their hands on everything and anything they could. And by the early 1960’s, Tenbrook was still the same.

Walking to the station one morning, Everette met Sal, a man only two years his senior who had moved to Tenbrook from Portland five years ago. Now Sal was one of the men who always had big plans. Even though he moved away from the big city, he still had visions of grandeur. The Cascade Mountains weren’t a fortress that could hold his mind hostage. And being stuck between two Counties didn’t bother him much neither. Rather than belonging to nowhere, Sal seemed to be the merchant between the two. Small town dreams with big city potential. He was a big fish in a small pond. Conversations with Sal always made Everette feel like he could actually make something of himself and he always showed interest in money even though he didn’t understand it.

“Morning, Sal. How’s business?” Everette greeted him with a smile.

“Excellent. People come and leave their money with me, and I hold onto it until they want it back,” he chuckled with pride.

Sal worked at the Rockford bank and was always telling Everette about the comings and goings of the cash flow. He was the kind of man who liked to talk a big game and would divulge information freely and without restraint.

“And the vault only holds so much,” Sal continued, “so we keep a few hundred in the registers, and a few thousand in the vault, and send the rest to our main branch in Portland.”

“What do you do if everybody wants their money back?”

“Oh, that’s not likely to happen. Besides, if we don’t have enough for a withdraw, we just bring the necessary funds from our larger branch. No more keeping all this money in one place, you know, in case someone tries to steal it.”

“How much do you keep on hand?”

Sal leaned in with a grin. “There’s almost a hundred thousand dollars in that vault right now.”

“I wouldn’t think the people of Tenbrook would have that kinda money.”

“Oh, there’s money moving around all the time,” he sliced the air with his hands. “But it’s not gonna be just sitting there. That big truck’s gonna come pick it all up in a couple of days. It’s my job to count it first though,” he said with a satisfied grin.

“You count it all in front of the trucker?”

“Oh no,” he waived Everette off. “He’s just the driver. They don’t know much about money. We count it the day before, lock it up in boxes, and they pick it up the next day.”

“Sounds like quite the responsibility. I tell ya, I like money, but seeing all that cash would make me nervous.”

“We go in turns.”

Everette gave a puzzled expression. Sal had a way of telling way too much information and Everette felt it at that point. This was something he probably shouldn’t be talking about.

“At the end of the day, there’s just two of us. Me and Hammond. He counts it, and then I count it.” Sal pulled his suspenders away from his chest and rolled back on his heals.

“How often does the truck come and carry all that money away?” as soon as Everette asked that, he realized he was venturing into territory that was certainly none of his business. But he couldn’t prevent himself. The words just came out, and the answers came back without any suspicion.

“Once every few months, depending on how much we have at the time. We’ll count it tonight, and then recount it tomorrow night, and he picks it up first thing Wednesday.”

“Well, like I said, handling all that money would make me nervous. I don’t know how you do it.”

“You just gotta get your hands on a little first, that’s all.” Sal looked around, still rolling on his heals and nodded to Mrs. Douval across the street. “You get used to it. It’s only money.” He dragged out the word only, and for some reason Everette felt the water was definitely starting to flow in another direction.

When Everette arrived at the station, he couldn’t help replaying the conversation on repeat. It was a quiet day with hardly anybody needing fuel. Everette found this strange. He was alone with his thoughts like a seed left to germinate by itself.

Few hundred in the register; few thousand in the vault, almost a hundred thousand dollars in the vault right now.

Everette could feel the space between the two Counties converging as he waited for a customer.

We send the rest to our main branch in Portland … in case someone tries to steal it … truck comes on Wednesday.

Why did Sal tell him all of this?

He would normally tell Everette all kinds of things about money and working at the bank, how to succeed in business and invest money. But Everette never really understood how it all worked. He was a hard worker, but the idea of “savings and loans” and “investments” and “capital gains” all felt like big city terms. All Everette knew was he wanted a way out of his little rut but didn’t have the knowhow or the wherewithal.

But this conversation was different. It made Everette’s thoughts flow in a different direction that they did before. It was almost as if there was something whispering in his ear.

Everette jumped when he heard the ding from the pneumatic signal bell. One of the only new things to come to Tenbrook was the Milton 805, which was a rubber hose stretched across the driveway that would signal when someone pulled into the station.

It was a brand new 1963 Pontiac Grand Prix, Marimba Red. Everette had seen some nice cars roll through here, but this one was a beauty.

“How can I help you, sir?” he bounced over to the Pontiac with a smile that dropped the minute he saw the driver.

It was Calvin Laredo. The man he went to school with who tormented him all through their senior year. After graduation, Everette never saw Calvin again, and he was glad.

“Well, would you look at that,” Calvin lowered his sunglasses to peer over them. “Everette Montgomery. Always knew you’d be stuck in this town. Give me a dollar of premium and a pack of Marlboro.” He flicked his sunglasses back over his eyes and looked straight ahead with a smug face.

“Yes, sir,” Everette hung his head and went over to open the gas cap. Once the meter on the pump was rolling, he ran inside and came back with the Marlboro’s. He stopped the meter right at ninety-seven cents, gave the handle a quick pump putting it at ninety-nine, and then another which brought it to a dollar one.

Another drop in Everette’s ego.

He put the nozzle back on the pump and came to the side of the car as Calvin looked at the meter that read a dollar and one cent.

“So close, huh Everette? Well, that’s alright.” He reached into his pocket for some money.

“And the cigarettes are thirty-five cents,” Everette tried to hold his head up.

“Here,” Calvin handed him two dollar bills.

“I’ll be right back with your change.”

“Keep it. I can spare it. I’ll be in town for a couple days and I don’t want a reputation for being cheap.”

“Yes sir, thank you.” Everette’s shame came flooding back in. “How long you stayin’?”

“First thing Wednesday. Heading down to Las Vegas, see if I can win me some of that jackpot,” he laughed. “You know, you really gotta get out of this town. But then again, it takes a bit of courage. Thanks for the fill.”

“I just might,” Everette mumbled to himself as Calvin drove off.

Was it just a coincidence that Calvin would be in town until Wednesday—the very day the truck would come to pick up the money from the bank? And why did Sal tell him all about the money being counted the day before?

Almost a hundred thousand dollars in the vault … we send it to Portland; in case someone tries to steal it … the truck comes on Wednesday. We count it at the end of the day … just me and Hammond.

Things were beginning to fall into place in Everette’s mind.

He spent the rest of the day visualizing Sal sitting there counting all that money and wondering how much it would be. Was it actually a hundred thousand or was it less than that? Maybe it was more. What if someone came in while they were counting it? They would certainly keep the door locked. Although, who would suspect someone to just walk in there like that?

Everette walked home at the end of the day, slowly and with quiet consideration. Head down, hands in his pockets, kicking a rock until it landed in the grass, then kicking another.

Humiliation dragged behind him about going one cent over the pump in front of Calvin. His comment about needing courage to get out of this town.

Trapped between two Counties, walled in around the Mountains like a fortress.

Was the river beginning to flow the other direction? The river of his thoughts certainly was.

When he got to his house, he noticed the flag hanging limp on the porch. It looked to him like a bandanna he used to see in those old western movies.

Another seed stuffed deep in the soil of his mind to germinate.

The next morning, he met Sal on his way to work.

“Morning, Sal. How’s business,” Everette greeted him with the same smile. As if the river still ran the same direction.

“We counted that money last night,” he leaned in with a grin. “And wouldn’t you know there was a hundred and fifty thousand dollars there. Gotta count it again tonight to make sure. What did I tell you? A lot of money, am I right?”

“Sure is, Sal.”

“Listen, Everette. I know you got a little bit of a savings account there, but have you ever thought of investing some of it?”

Here he goes again. Old Sal with his “savings and loans” talk.

“Oh, Sal, you know I aint got enough in there for any capital gains. Besides, I’m doing just fine. I may even one day own that Texaco station.”

Sal gave him a funny look as if to say, “keep dreaming, kid,” and looked away to nod at Mrs. Douval from across the street.

“I may someday get out of this town. Maybe someday soon. Just takes a little courage that’s all.”

When Everette got to the station to start his shift, his manager, Mr. Giraldo greeted him with a stern expression.

“Whose gun is this?” he had it sitting on some newspaper spread across the counter.

“I don’t know.”

“You never seen it before?”

“No, sir. Where’d it come from?”

“Found it out back.”

“Maybe some kids were shooting at some squirrels or something. Do you want to keep it?”

“No. Besides, there’s no bullets in it.”

“Want me to take it to the police station? They’ll dispose of it somehow.”

“Nah, I’ll take it there myself.”

Later, when Mr. Giraldo’s wife called him with some errands, he said for Everette to take the gun to the police station when he closed up.

Little by little, it became evident that each of the five rivers did in fact begin to go the other direction.

First, the information about Sal and Hammond counting all the money. It would be counted, boxed and ready to go that night.

Next was the fact that the truck was scheduled to pick it up. That in combination with the knowledge of Calvin being in town until the same morning. Almost as if he were skipping town and everyone would suspect it was him.

Those two rivers were the same converging river that flowed together perfectly.

The fourth river was the flag that Everette could use as a bandanna.

And finally, was the appearance of the gun. And it was now in Everette’s possession.

Everette took a small flag from the counter, put the gun in the back of his belt, closed up the store and began walking slowly towards the bank. He walked almost as if on autopilot. His head was down, hands in his pockets, kicking a rock until it landed in the grass. Rather than kicking another, he scuffed his feet as if to slow himself down.

Anxiety slowly crept in and he remembered Calvin’s words; it takes a bit of courage.

When Everette finally got to the bank, he tied the bandanna across his face.

The door was unlocked.

“There’s no turning back now,” he mumbled into the flag that covered his face and went inside.