A memoir of startling emotion and grace, Burning Fence is the story of the men in Craig Lesley's family: absent father, Rudell, tough stepfather, Vern, adopted son, Wade, and Craig Lesley himself. Their story is one of hardship, violence, and cautious, heartbreaking attempts toward compassion. Lesley's fearless journey through his family history provides a remarkable portrait of hard living in the Western states, and confirms his place as one of the region's very best storytellers. “I experienced Craig Lesley's Burning Fence as an addiction of sorts--everything else in my life got pushed off to the side so I could live in its pages. A seminal work of Western literature.” ― David Guterson, author of Snow Falling on Ceders “Lesley has written an extraordinary memoir that speaks to the remarkable depth of his life experience. This is a splendid work, beautifully told and deeply moving.” ―Robert Olen Butler, Pulitzer Prize--winning author of A Good Scent from a Strange Mountain “This vivid, unflinching story of Lesley's own life, as a son and a father, can only serve to increase his already considerable stature as a writer--and, not incidentally, as a human being.” ― Kent Haruf, author of Plainsong “Beyond the legends of the West and the fables of fatherhood, Craig Lesley's beautiful memoir comes forward with one man's personal truth. One of his bravest and truest works to date.” ― Diana Abu-Jaber, author of Crescent “Craig Lesley is intimate with denied ambitions, the heartbreak of living poor and out of the loop in rural America, and the cracked humor with which the disenfranchised so often respond. If you want to understand what's going on in the backlands of our nation, begin by reading this.” ― William Kittredge, author of The Nature of Generosity “ Burning Fence paints an indelible portrait of subsistence existence in the pre-Microsoft Northwest. . . . Unforgettable.” ― Seattle Post-Intelligencer “Vividly lyrical . . . Lesley brings his talents as a novelist--believable dialogue, compelling detail, well-developed personalities--to the page.” ― The Seattle Times “It is as raw and real as a psychiatrist's couch--though infinitely more revealing and immensely entertaining.” ― News-Times (Newport, Oregon) CRAIG LESLEY received the Pacific Northwest Booksellers Award for The Sky Fisherman, Winterkill, and Talking Leaves . He teaches at Portland State University in Portland, Oregon, where he lives with his wife and two daughters. Burning Fence A Western Memoir of Fatherhood By Craig Lesley Picador Copyright © 2005 Craig Lesley All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-0-312-42625-5 Contents Title Page, Copyright Notice, Dedication, Acknowledgments, I. TRAIN TIME, 1. Burning Monument, 2. Cherry Tree, 3. The Carnival, 4. Cowboy Coffee, 5. Iodine, 6. The Leper, 7. Hoboes, 8. Ronna and Razzle-Dazzle, 9. Baby Steps, 10. Polka Dot, 11. The Portland Rose, 12. The Freeman Ranch, II. BACK TO MONUMENT, 13. Newton and Anna, 14. Madras, 15. The Old Man, 16. Umatilla Army Depot, 17. Rudell and Raylene, 18. Estacada, 19. Hit Man, 20. Oregon City, 21. Hardman, 22. Monument, 23. Martin, 24. Long Creek, 25. Brandy, 26. Snipers, 27. Efrem, 28. Ormand, 29. Prospecting, 30. Rusty, 31. Greyhound, 32. Smokers, 33. Elena and Kira, 34. Black Ice, 35. Prairie City, 36. Pecker, 37. Sunflower Flat, 38. Lesley Family Reunion, Also by Craig Lesley, About the Author, Copyright, CHAPTER 1 BURNING MONUMENT When we held my father Rudell's funeral service in the Monument cemetery, raging forest fires surrounded the town, and we could hear the burning wood crackle. Smoke filled the air, and through stinging eyes, I could see only about a hundred feet. Ormand, my half brother, set the box containing my father's ashes next to the headstone. He kept looking around, but neither of Rudell's former wives had made the effort to attend. My half sisters didn't show, either. Just us boys. As Ormand read the Bible parable of the workers in the vineyard, I stood off a ways, since it was Ormand who grew up with my dad, not me. As far as I was concerned, this was Ormand's show. Anyway, he was an apprentice preacher, and this was his first funeral. Besides, I didn't want to stand too close because one of the Lesley bad-luck demons might crawl into my bones. Ponderosa, lodgepole, red pine, juniper, sagebrush — all burning. The wind carried the smell like a campfire, but bigger and more ominous. The Forest Service had sent 450 firefighters into Monument and they had taken over the whole town, except the cemetery. Mexicans, Indians, Alaskans, prisoners with crew cuts and jug ears — guys who hadn't seen anything outside but brick walls and razor wire in years. None of them could do a thing with the fire because of the wind. They sat around, dirty and defeated, complaining about the wind shifts and lightning strikes. Nobody could handle that fire. The wind gusts topped thirty