Willobee's World

by Wendell Vanderbilt Fountain

“Momma, you’re already gettin’ riled, and it’s not even started.”

  “I can’t help it, Hay, I just love Mr. Trump. He don’t have ta do this. He’s a very rich man who could just be enjoyin’ the fruits of his labor. He’s seventy, ya know. He ain’t no kid, but he’s runnin’ ’round the country actin’ like one,” she replied.

  “Okay, Momma, let’s all get some pizza and watch.”

  “I really like the idea of havin’ a few slices mahself,” Trent chimed in.

  When the debate began, Kit was focused and glued to the TV. Trent watched her reactions to the things said and implied. She appeared thrilled at how Mr. Trump performed. She nearly jumped out of her wheelchair when Mr. Trump challenged the moderators, and especially when he told Hillary that if he was elected, he was going to appoint a special prosecutor to look into her situation. Pure joy emanated from her face. By the time the debate was over, Trent had eaten five slices of pizza and downed three beers.

  “Well, Kit, who won that debate?” Trent asked.

  “Mr. Trump beat all three of ’em! He wiped the floor with Hillary! Trent, I didn’t hear ya say much one way or another during that whole thing. Ya ain’t a Hillary fan are ya?” She asked, studying him.

  “Guess I ain’t much for politics. Them folks don’t give a damn ’bout you, me, or America. They only want ya vote so’s they can git power and line their pockets. I spose I favor this Trump fella ’cause he’s always been a bidnessman. Can’t vote for that woman ’cause she’ll finish off the country. Obama’s done a right good job of makin’ that happen already, and it looks like she might be even worse. She’s got more baggage than all the airlines put together, or maybe just what I coulda piled in mah old semi.”

  “Anyone want more pizza?” Haylee asked.

  “Not for me, sweetheart, think I’ve had more’n mah share,” Trent replied.

  “Hay, take this slice and heat it for me. I got so involved in the debate forgot to eat it!” She said, handing her the plate.

  “So, Trent ya don’t like politicians,” Kit said, looking over at him.

  “Let me put it like this, Kit, what does yor man Trump say ’bout ’em? I heard him at one of them rallies he’s been holdin’ ’round the country say that politicians are all talk and no action. That purdy-much says what I think of ’em.”

  “Guess ya make a good point. I been a Republican all my adult life, but when this race’s over, I’m gonna change my registration ta Independent. Republicans wanted the House, and we voters gave it to ’em. Then, they wanted the Senate, and we delivered again. We the People got nothin’ in return. They gave Obama everything he wanted,” she said, taking a bite of pizza.

  “What ’bout Mister Trump? He’s a Republican.” Trent said.

  “I know he’s runnin’ as a Republican, but he’s a man with good common sense on how ta get things done. The way them people have treated him at the top of the Republican Party’s a disgrace! That fella Ryan, McConnell, and them Bushes not supportin’ him makes no sense. It’s like they wanna lose! Trent, ya getting’ me upset!”

  “Hold on, Kit, I was just askin’ a question, didn’t mean no harm,” Trent said in a soft voice.

  “I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at them!” She said, handing her plate to Haylee, “and I’m plumb tuckered out. Think I’ll turn in and give you young folks some time alone,” she said, wheeling around in her wheelchair.

  “Let me help ya, Momma,” Haylee said as she began pushing the wheelchair.

  “Hold on, Hay, Trent, ya gonna be here for that last debate in Las Vegas?” She asked, looking over and making eye contact.”

  “I shorly will, Kit, ya have a good night,” he said as he stood while Haylee took her to her bedroom.

  He sat back down and could hear the muffled sounds of Haylee getting her mother tucked in. He sat there thinking about the love of a daughter for her mother and how important loving each other was in a world aflame with strife, terrorism, and war. It was about five minutes before Haylee returned.

  “She alright,” Trent asked as he stood up.

  “Momma’s fine, but she made me promise to apologize for her.”

  “Apologize? For what?”

  “She’s afraid she came across in an angry way toward ya, and she doesn’t want ya to be troubled by her behavior,” Haylee replied.

  “Hope ya got that straightened out.”

  “I did. Nothin’ ta worry about,” Haylee said, embracing him.

  “Darlin’ could we talk a minute? Got some stuff on mah mind that I gotta git off,” Trent said.

  “Of course, let’s sit at the table.”

  “I hardly know where ta start, but it’s ’bout me not havin’ mah truck no more. I was readin’ the classified ads today, and I couldn’t find a thing I could git without havin’ a monthly payment, ’cause I wanna have nuff money to git that little ranch in Santa Fe. Now, with the weddin’ and all, I think the fancy word is I’m perplexed. I could go ta work for some truckin’ outfit and be at the mercy of ’em, but that’s not what I want for us, and that means ya momma, too.”

  “I’m relieved that’s all that’s botherin’ ya. I have a little savings and momma does, too. We can put our money together and you can get another truck.”

  “From where I come from, no real man would ever do a thing like that. Take his bride’s money and momma’s, too. No way,” Trent said firmly.

  “Look, Trent, ya know that marriage is a partnership, and I’m gonna be ya partner, so why can’t I help?” She asked, reaching for his hands on the table.

  “Haylee-Girl, I ain’t never done nothin’ like that before. It’s not who I am. Ya gonna have ta let me ponder it awhile.”

  “Trent, just think about it, okay?”

  “Okay,” he replied hesitantly.

  “Promise me ya won’t worry ’bout it. God will provide. Promise me, Trent Willobee, promise me,” she insisted, staring into his eyes.

  “Alright…Haylee-Girl… I…uh…promise,” he said with great reluctance.

  “Now, that wasn’t so bad after all,” she said with a big smile.

  “For me ta make such a promise, guess ya know ya got mah heart.”

  “Since you have mine, I think I have a right to yours. Whadaya have to say about that?!” She laughed.

  “For a person younger’n me, I’d say your purdy doggone smart.”

  “Thank you very much for your kind words. Now, how ’bout gettin’ to your feet and give me a long passionate kiss?”

  “I’s wonderin’ if ya might ever git ’round to it,” he said with a smile.

  They kissed and held each other for what seemed to be a long time, but it wasn’t as long as it was quiet. It was a spiritual union of two people in love—a man and a woman melding together as one until it was time for Trent to return home.

  “Haylee-Girl,” he said, pulling back from her, “I’d better be on mah way. It’s gittin’ late, and ya gotta work tomorra, but I’ll be in for breakfast,” he said, kissing her on the cheek.

  “Don’t worry, Trent, like ya promised, okay?” She said squeezing him tight.

  “When I make a promise, make no mistake ’bout it,” he said, walking to the door.

  They said their goodnights at the door, and Trent climbed on Rocket One and headed home. She really made him feel good about himself and their plans for the future.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Trent had hardly put his keys on the table when he heard a knock on the door. His Glock flew into his hand as though it was a part of his body. His heartbeat began to race along with mental images of imminent danger.

  “Who’s there?!”

  “Two friends,” a voice answered.

  All Trent could think was: two friends my ass! “Step down and back away from the door. I’ll decide if ya are friendlies.”

  Trent flicked on the
outside light to take a peak from the side of a window curtain. He could see two people and much to his surprise they were Creet and Dobson.

  “Okay, you two, come on in,” he said flicking off the outside light.

  When they came in, Trent offered them a seat at the table. “You fellas have to scuse me ’cause I need a drink. Can I git you guys one?” He asked, taking his bottle of Scotch from the cabinet.

  Neither of them seemed to have any interest in having a drink, because their interests appeared to be something else. That didn’t deter Trent, because he downed a shot without his usual water.

  “I’m shor this ain’t a social call, and if ya want me ta put my ass on the line anytime soon, you can fuckin’ forgit it! Speakin’ of mah ass, I lost it back when my truck went over the goddamned moon! That was mah fuckin’ livin’ floatin’ ’round in the night sky!” Trent said poignantly.

  “Willobee, if you’ll give us a chance perhaps we can help,” Dobson calmly spoke up.

  “Where were you fuckers when I needed ya? Ya left me hanging like a piece of raw meat in front of a bunch of starvin’ wolves! Worse, ya let mah friend die at the hands of a bunch of uncivilized Islamic terrorists. Damn you!” He said, slamming his glass down on the counter.

  “Willobee, we’re here because of the unexpected turn of events. For whatever it’s worth, we tried to find you, but we seemed to always be one step behind. We’re thankful and thrilled you survived and sorry as hell your friend was killed, but the situation was totally out of control. You’ve been in firefights aplenty. You, of all people, know how things can turn to shit in the blink of an eye. Please, sit down and talk with us,” Creet asked.

  “Okay,” he said, pouring another drink, “but don’t try ta git me ta do no more fuckin’ intel deals. What life I got left, I wanna spend it with mah girl.”

  “What’s on ya minds?” Trent asked, pulling out a chair.

  “It’s about your truck, we think we might be able to help,” Dobson said.

  “Ya can’t put that Humpty Dumpty back together again, unless ya got some kinda magic wand,” Trent quipped, “besides, that was a one-of-a-kind rig.”

  “We fully understand that was the primary way you made a living, and Creet and I have a proposal for ya,” Dobson said.

  “Mah ears are gittin’ as big as a elephant.”

  “I’m sure ya know that the federal government seizes property and money associated with the interdiction of drugs. As a matter of fact, we have access to a semi you might want. Actually, there’s more than one. In a way, you could have your pick. None of them might not measure up to what ya had, but we can also provide you with cash which would allow ya to improve one of these to your satisfaction, interested?” Creet said.

  “I stopped believin’ in Santy Claus when I’s ’bout six. What the hell more you people want from me?” Trent asked, looking at both of them.

  “Absolutely nothing,” Creet said and Dobson nodded.

  “A truck’s gotta have papers. Won’t do me no good without a title. Gotta have licenses and such.”

  “The rig you select will have everything you need, no strings attached,” Dobson assured him.

  “I don’t understand. Why y’all doin’ this?” Trent asked.

  “Willobee, not all of us who work for the federal government are heartless leeches sucking at the federal teat. We are patriots, trying to do our jobs. You more than did your job, and we feel obligated to do what little we can to ameliorate the situation. This is one time a simple thanks is not enough,” Dobson said.

  “Where we go from here?” Trent asked.

  “We’ll have a rig prepositioned at the Flying J Truck Stop in Kingman on the date and time you specify. You show up and take possession,” Dobson said.

  “What if it don’t suit me, then what?”

  “We’ll send another one in the same way, but if I might add, we’re gonna give it our best effort to send you the rig we think you’ll like the first time,” Dobson replied.

  “Well, uh, don’t know what ta say.”

  “Nothing needs to be said. I have some cash for ya in case the semi we send might need some modifications. Here’s twenty-five thousand. Hopefully, that will take care of it,” he said, pushing a small package across the table.

  “What about a way to let ya know when to be there?” Trent asked.

  “In the package you’ll find a phone number to call. It’s an electronic recording, just state the date and time, and your truck will be there,” Dobson said.

  “That’s it?” Trent asked.

  “Yes, that should do it, that is, unless of course, you’d like another assignment” Dobson said as Creet nodded and smiled.

  “Oh, no, no more,” Trent said, shaking his head vehemently.

  “If you ever change your mind, just call that number again, and there’ll be a different recording,” Dobson and Creet stood to leave, “but before we go, thank you, Mister Willobee, for a job very well done and for your service to our country,” Dobson said with a firm handshake.

  “Thanks…Trent…hope ya don’t mind me addressing you by your given name, I’m just glad to have this opportunity” Creet said, shaking Trent’s hand.

  “Not a problem, Josh,” a smiling Trent replied, “or should I say Joshua Stanton?”

  After they left, Trent poured himself another drink and just sat there thanking God for what had just happened. He looked at his watch and decided it was too late to call Haylee, but he was really tempted. Then, he thought it would be best to tell her about it at breakfast. He took a sip of Scotch, and tore open the package. Nothing but hundred dollar bills and a piece of paper with the phone number on it. He finished his drink and temporarily put the money in a drawer until he could relocate it to a safe place, which did not include a bank. He was of the opinion that financial institutions use money for their benefit, but give the depositor practically nothing in return.

  He woke up at six to the sound of the neighbor’s barking dog. Where was that damn dog last night when Creet and Dobson showed up? Didn’t hear a peep! Trent was eager to get up anyway, because he wanted to tell Haylee the good news, so he hopped out of bed and headed for the shower. It was nearly seven o’clock by the time he was dressed and ready for the day and down the hill he walked to see Haylee at the Oatman Restaurant. He waved to many of the regulars as he made his way to his place at the counter. Haylee finished up with a customer at the register, and immediately came over to get his order while wearing a big smile and carrying a hot cup of coffee.

  “Long time, no see, it has been…let me think…according to the clock…ten hours…and…thirty…one-minutes, but it seems like a week.”

  “I take that as ya mean ya happy to see me,” Trent chuckled.

  “Yes, Mister Willobee, sir, you’re one-hundred percent correct. You would like the usual I presume?”

  “That ya may, Haylee-Girl, and when ya git a chance I got some good news.”

  “Good news? I’ll be right back,” she said and quickly placed his order and returned.

  “I’m here, so tell me the news,” she said eagerly.

  “Did ya know ya look really great from behind?”

  “That’s it, the good news?” She said in an exasperated tone.

  “No, there’s more, you’re a beautiful woman from the front!” He laughed.

  “Trent Willobee, I thought you were gonna tell me something special.”

  “What I said ain’t special?”

  “Well, yes, but I thought it might’ve been something else.”

  “Sweetheart, when ya come back with mah food, I really do have some other very good news.”

  “Boy, are ya messin’ with me today!” She said, and rushed back to see if his order was up.

  Trent, could hardly wait to tell her about the events during the night, but he wanted to add a little humor a
nd anticipation. In less than five minutes, she was back with his breakfast.

  “Now, I wanna hear the very good news!”

  “I had two visitors last night right after I got home,” Trent said.

  “And, and, and!”

  “I think mah troubles are over ’bout a rig.”

  “Trent, for the love of God, what does that mean?”

  “I can see ya gittin’ a little upset, maybe we should talk about it this evenin’,” he said calmly, crunching down on a piece of crisp bacon.

  “Trenton Willobee, you may get me fired, but you’re not leavin’ this place until you tell me the good news!” She said loudly, which turned the heads of some customers.

  “Calm down…’member me tellin’ ya ’bout two agents I’s workin’ for when mah truck got blowed up? He asked with eyebrows raised.

  “Yeah, what about them?” She asked.

  “Looks like they gonna give me another truck!”

  “Did you say give you another truck?”

  “All I gotta do is make a phone call.”

  “There’s gotta be more to that story, what’s the catch?” She asked.

  “Ain’t no catch, them guys are on the level. When you git off this evenin’, stop by mah place, and I’ll show ya some proof,” he said.

  “Trent, you’d better not be jerkin’ me around,” she said in a serious tone.

  “I ain’t doin’ that, I was funnin’ ya some, but what I said’s real.”

  “I have to get back to the register, there’s a line waitin’ to pay.”

  “Go ahead, take care of bidness,” he said with a smile.

  Trent returned to his hearty breakfast, and Haylee checked on him now and again, filling his coffee cup often. When he finished, he left his tab and money on the counter, waved bye, and headed home to decide on the best date to pick up his new rig. He thought about it as he walked, and tentatively decided that five days should give them enough time to select what they considered to be the best rig. The first thing he did when he got home was to check the calendar and confirm it. He then called the number and left date and time. He was set. The next matter which he had to deal with were his former clients who had supported him over the years. He made numerous calls throughout the day to a variety of transportation directors who could get him back into the swing of things. Although, he did avoid any Tijuana routes. He was not interested. He glanced at the clock and realized it was already just after five. A few minutes later, he heard a knock on the door and a voice calling his name.