Michael chuckles.
“Oh, yes, Mister Doctor. Michael definitely have you eggs.” He smiles and thoughtfully adds, “What they say? ‘Nooo problem. Trust me.’ Hee-hee.”
Dewitt is lost in thought. He absently replies, “Uh, okay. Thanks.”
Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Willie and T. P. sit at the breakfast table, each wearing wild pajamas. Willie is working on a simple crossword puzzle book. T. P. watches cartoons on a small TV set and sips a carton of chocolate milk through a straw. He slurps his milk.
“Don’t do that, I tells you,” demands Willie.
The telephone rings. Willie and T. P. look at each other. Willie answers the phone.
“Joe King’s Bar and Grill,” he intones. “I’m Joe King!”
He winks at T. P.
“Oh, hello, Señor Un-,” Willie says. “What?... Got loose?... When, last night?... Si, Si. T. P. and me will begin looking, no problemo. I remember the last... Okay, okay. Adiós.”
Willie hangs up the phone. He looks at T. P.
“Ol’ Oz got loose again,” he says in a frustrated voice. “They don’t know which way she headed.”
“Ohhh, no,” says T. P., shaking his head. “I don’t want to go through with that again. – I’m sick. I got the flu!”
“You don’t got no flu!” says Willie, disgusted. “Now get your clothes on. She usually heads here from the superintendent’s barn, so get your bu-”
Just then they hear a blood-curdling scream from the direction of Dewitt’s bedroom.
T. P. jumps up and gives an excited shout.
“I think he just found her!” he says.
They rush into the room.
Dewitt is sitting, frozen, staring through the bedroom window right at the long neck and large face of Oz – the ostrich!
Shortly thereafter, Dewitt sits outside the back corner of the ranch house. He follows with interest the maneuvers of his two captors a short distance away: Willie and T. P. are trying to catch Oz! She’s near the barn, in a fenced area of haystacks and farm equipment.
As the two men creep up on her, ol’ Oz stands her ground. T. P. holds onto a long rope while Willie has a feed sack in his hand.
“Here, Ozzie, Ozzie,” coaches T. P. “Here, Oz. Come on, we won’t hurt you.”
“She don’t understand English, I tells you,” shouts Willie. “I could tell that the last time.”
“Well, she sure didn’t seem to understand the Super’s Spanish either,” T. P. says in return.
“She don’t understand nothin’,” says Willie. “Now tie that rope, I tells you. Make a lasso.”
“Okay, Willie.”
T. P. ties a little slipknot onto the rope.
“Now throw it,” commands Willie.
T. P. begins to twirl the rope high over his head.
“No, you moron!” shouts Willie. “Not at her head! What are you trying to do, break her neck?!”
“Sorry, Willie,” replies T. P.
Oz gives out a squawk, but stays put. The two men creep closer.
“Throw it at her feet!” shouts Willie. “Maybe she’ll step in it!”
Dewitt mutters to himself, “We know who’s gonna ‘step in it!’”
T. P. tosses the rope at ground level; the loop lands just behind Oz. He pulls the rope toward her, slowly. Sure enough, ol’ Oz steps into the loop. T. P. gives a mighty pull and manages to get one ostrich leg caught.
“I got her! I got her!” he yells.
“Hold her. Let me get the sack over her head,” yells back Willie.
Willie quickly approaches Oz. Who bolts!
Oz darts around the enclosure, dragging T. P. behind through the dirt. Willie follows, sack at the ready, yelling for T. P. to hold on. There is a fence coming up fast, but ol’ Oz turns from it quickly, catapulting T. P. behind her. He valiantly holds onto the rope as Oz turns toward the barn door.
Willie seizes the moment: He rushes over and opens the barn door and T. P. is dragged into the barn, twisting and shouting. Shortly after he lets out a holler.
“Oh, shhhhiiiii-”
Willie cringes as he finishes T. P.’s forever immortal word. “-tuh!” he says.
Dewitt is beside himself with laughter. Shrugging, he says to himself, “Step in, drag through, what’s the difference? You just knew it was going to happen!”
Dewitt begins to point and laughs even more: Poor T. P., defeated, covered with hay and mud and goodness knows what all, slowly exits the barn, tongue hanging out, rope in hand.
“Water! Water!” he whimpers.
Then T. P. takes a whiff of himself.
“Soap! Soap!” he implores.
Chapter Twenty-Six
A little later back inside the ranch house, Dewitt douses iodine onto T. P.’s knees and elbows as Willie talks on the telephone. T. P. winces and lets out pitiful little whimpers.
“We got her,” says Willie into the telephone. “In the barn... Sure, Señor, come on over and check on her... Si, si, I know she’s pretty tired after that chase... No, it was mainly me.”
Willie looks over at T. P.
“He wasn’t much help,” he continues. “Bye.”
T. P. looks dejected, but Dewitt smiles and shakes his head.
“You did great,” he tells T. P.
T. P.’s pout disappears. He winces as Dewitt wraps a bandage around his forearm.
A few minutes later the doorbell rings. T. P. runs to answer the door, where he greets Señor Undeez, a small, older Mexican gentleman. The Señor is dressed in working ranch clothes and carries a large Mexican hat in hand, and an even larger accent in his mouth.
“Hello, Señor. Welcome!” T. P. says.
“Gracias, amigo.”
The superintendent enters politely, hanging his hat on a deer-antler hat rack.
T. P. calls out, “Willie, Willie, the Super, Mister Undeez, is here!”
Willie arrives and the two men greet each other warmly.
“Hey, hey,” Willie says, “you gotta meet... ”
“I eat already. Gracias!”
T. P. leaves to fetch Dewitt.
“Did you walk over okay?” asks Willie.
“Si, she’s fine. Gracias!”
“Uh, T. P.’s gettin’ the Doc,” Willie continues. “Let me start gettin’ ice water.”
“Si, nice weather. Gracias!”
Willie rolls his eyes. He takes the super by the arm and gently directs him to the living room.
Dewitt and T. P. enter the living room just as Willie is bringing some ice water for the Señor. Everyone looks at everyone else, wondering the protocol.
“Oh, uh, Doc,” says Willie, “this here’s the Super. – Hundreds of oster-ridges under his command. – Just over the hill.”
“Well, hundreds minus one sometimes,” notes Dewitt.
“Señor, this is the Doc,” continues Willie.
The Señor smiles broadly and nods, while holding his ice water.
“Doc,” says Willie, “he must like you. – Oh, by the way, he’s Señor Undeez.”
“What?!” says Dewitt, startled.
“He’s Señor Undeez, Doc,” repeats Willie.
Dewitt looks down at his waist, then back up, first at Willie, then at the Señor, who of course, smiles broadly.
“No, no!” says Willie, shaking his head. “His name is Señor Undeez.”
“Whew! Boy, that’s a relief,” replies Dewitt. “Nice to meet you, Señor, uh, Undeez.”
Dewitt thinks to himself, “Boy, I gotta remember that one. – If I ever get out of here alive!”
“Doc,” continues Willie, “the Super here’s gonna groom and water ol’ Oz. She’s like a pet – for his kids, I mean. He says he’ll take her back over to his place tomorrow.”
Señor Und
eez just politely keeps smiling and looking around, holding his glass of ice water out, awaiting the okay to drink.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
It’s a beautiful snowy day out West at a lovely ski resort. Skiers swish down the slopes near a large grand hotel.
Inside one of the hotel rooms, skis and ski clothing are askew on the floor as Governor Dill and a sweet young thing cavort in a hot tub. The telephone rings. The Governor is irritated but answers.
“This better be important!” he snaps. “... Oh, hello dear... No,” he replies, looking at the young woman’s cleavage. “Just helping warm some buns... Turn on the television set?... Now?... Okay.”
The Governor hangs up and uses a remote to turn on the TV. He sits dumbfounded as Jesse and Carl, along with some white men in suits and Indian dignitaries, stand behind Secretary Lewis, who is speaking into a bank of news microphones.
“... on such short notice,” the Secretary is saying. “We are nevertheless pleased to announce that we will locate and build the dam at... ”
Watching, the Governor’s eyes widen and he begins to shake his head.
“... the little town of Forked Knife, in your state’s northernmost section. And, although this will destroy the village and make the land above it worthless,... ”
The Governor begins to shake his head more and more rapidly.
“... it will allow the land below the village... ”
The Governor sinks deeply into the hot tub.
“... to become fertile, making it some of the most sought after land this side of... ”
“Hell!” says the Governor, in shock. He turns off the TV set.
“Oh, how sweet,” says the young woman. “Who says the government never gives a dam!”
A short time later, the Governor has a hushed meeting in his executive office with Nickels, Running Fever and the Gofers.
“Gee, Governor,” says Running Fever, “I just don’t think my sister would be the type to, quote, appear to have led her people into mass extinction, unquote. I just don’t think we could get away with it.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” says a bewildered Gov. “But what can we do?”
Nickels presents an idea.
“You’ve got to stall ‘em,” he says. “Call a news conference. Get support. – You’re a politician: Throw some bullsh-”
He wisely stops himself.
“Ahem,” says the Governor to Nickels. “What are you saying, exactly?”
“Until we can get the only copy of the Contract and destroy it,” notes Nickels, “we’re in trouble. You got to do something to buy us some time!”
“I see what you mean,” says the Governor. “And just where is the Contract?”
Nickels looks out the window at the distant mountains.
“It’s up at the ranch. In a safe,” he says.
Everyone lets this sink in for a minute.
“Up there with those idiots?!” says Running Fever, shaking his head. “And the Doctor? Right where the entire government is about to cone in on? – We better get there first!”
“Those clowns are still there?” asks the Governor.
“Yeah,” says Nickels. “And them three are the only ones who can link us all.”
Nickels looks around at the Gofers. This is serious. This is heavy. He nods to them.
The Gofers nod back as they “pat” their concealed weapons. They scramble out the door.
Governor Dill stands atop the steps leading into the magnificent state capital building. Reporters, along with white and Indian supporters, surround him. Gofers and other Underlings mingle about, carrying hastily written, amateurish placards reading: WE SUPPORT RODES AND SHOPPING MALES and DAM IS A FOUR LETTER WORD.
The Governor adjusts his tie and readies himself to speak. Standing just off to his side is the requisite “Signer For The Deaf.” She intently scrutinizes the Governor, her arms raised like a choir director, ready to pounce on every word. She signs mightily in the background as the Governor begins speaking.
“Ladies and Gentlemen – and Reporters: Our nation has a long history of those who should stall, er, stood tall in the paddle of sodgress – saddle of progress.”
The Signer’s eyes have crossed. She keeps signing. The Governor continues his pontification.
“We used to have great leaders in this country. Why, you can count on the fingers of one hand... ”
The Governor holds high an outstretched hand. The Signer follows suit. To keep pace, she adds some contortions, elbows flying, shoulders hunching.
“... the first five presidents of this country... ”
Dramatic pause. “But you can’t do that with the last six!”
Two reporters look at each other, confused by the logic of this comment. They shrug and continue taking notes.
The Governor now raises his other arm, too. The Signer again follows suit. Now, she’s flailing her entire body like some crazed juggler, desperately trying to keep up the signing.
“Anyway,” Governor Dill continues, “as Native Americans would say, in their language, ‘Gashunka, gotabi, mortizzi.’”
The Signer faints.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
As the Governor is buying time on the capitol steps, the telephone rings at the ranch. Willie answers.
“Joe’s Bar and-... Oh, hi, Mister Nickels. How ar-... They’re coming up here?... In two hours? And make sure we’re ready to go?... Okay, okay. Sure, sure Mister Nick-... Uh. Your safe?... Behind th-... Okay, sure, consider it done. Bye.”
Willie looks concerned. Dewitt wheels into the living room.
“Who was that?” he asks.
“That was nothin’,” says Willie. “Just... ”
Willie takes a deep breath.
“Doc,” he continues, “that was Mister Nickels. I may’s well tell you what’s happening, Doc. I have a bad feelin’ after two hours you won’t be sharing it. The information, I mean.”
“You mean sharing it anytime soon?” Dewitt wonders, his eyes widening.
“I mean anytime ever,” replies Willie. “He’s sending two of his men up here.”
Dewitt purses his lips and lets out a whistle.
“I was afraid of that,” he says. “What about you and T. P.? – And Michael?”
“Michael’s okay. But me and T. P. You see, Mister Nickels once told someone to ‘be ready when they get there.’– And we never saw the guy again.”
“Yikes,” says Dewitt. “Anything else?”
“Uh, yeah. He wants us, uh, T. P. and me, to move the piano and pull the boards off the wall behind it. He mentioned some kind of safe.”
“That would mean it’s important, whatever’s in there,” notes Dewitt. “If only we could get to it. May be guns. Give us a fighting chance. – Hey, Willie, you ‘packin’?”
Willie slowly shakes his head.
“Doc, T. P.’s always thought I did but I never liked the attached penalties for, you know, packin’ a heater. We just get the job done without one, the professionals that we are.”
Dewitt nods and mumbles to himself.
“Just my luck: Instead of Stallones, I get Flintstones.”
Then he says to Willie, “Well, let’s see if that safe is really a safe safe!”
The two hustle off to fetch T. P. and begin the task of getting to the safe.
A little later the three men sit in the ranch house kitchen. Dewitt is at the table, a pad and pencil his only weapon for now. Willie sits with him. T. P. has been relegated to a corner.
“I’ve seen safes like that before, Doc,” says Willie. He puts up his hands as if trying a combination lock.
“I guess we need to start with ‘one, one, zero,’ then ‘one, two... ”
Willie quickly looks over at T. P. and points a finger. T. P. suppresses himself just in time to avoid W
illie’s wrath.
“I’m afraid this isn’t going to get us anywhere,” notes Dewitt. “Are you sure there isn’t anything Nickels might have mentioned, any little thing.”
“I don’t think so, Doc,” says Willie, shaking his head. “I been wreckin’ my brain, but it’d take a rocket scientist, there’s so many choices. And even that guy Einstein wasn’t no rocket scientist.”
Dewitt smiles.
“Hmmm,” he says. “Never thought of it that way, but you’re right.”
T. P. raises a hand but Willie and Dewitt don’t see him. He puts his hand down.
“We’re history if we don’t crack that safe,” says Willie.
T. P. decides to speak up. He clears his throat.
“I got a clue,” he says.
Willie doesn’t even look around.
“You ain’t got no clue!” he says.
There is a pause. Dewitt considers quietly, then looks over at T. P.
“Go ahead, T. P. Tell us,” he says.
“Wellll,” T. P. replies shyly, “once Mister Nickels said the combo was his favorite platter.”
Willie just looks up at the ceiling and sighs. Dewitt has the tiniest of grins on his face. But, he nods and gestures “go on.”
“And once I heard him tell Running Fever it was his favorite day of the year,” T. P. continues.
“What, Chr-”, begins Willie.
Dewitt cuts Willie off abruptly.
“Yes, go on,” he tells T. P., who continues.
“The combination, I mean. He said it was his favorite day of the year.”
“So we’re down to three hundred and sixty-five,” Dewitt says. “That’s good. Really, T. P., I mean it.”
“Gotta be a holiday,” says Willie.
“Or a birthday,” adds T. P.
“I think he’d be too smart for that,” replies Dewitt.
They all ponder.
“Well,” says Willie, “you can mark out ‘Tax Day.’ Mister Nickels don’t pay no taxes.”
Everyone nods, still pondering. Then, Dewitt brightens.
At Dewitt's End Page 8
