“The woman has a heart of stone,” Pappy said.
“I, for one, am moving on,” Powderkeg said, pouring himself more brandy. “I’ve got my eyes set on Lacey Carmichael.”
“You got a death wish, man?” Fernando asked, sipping from his own jelly jar.
“What do you mean?” Powderkeg sounded a bit slurry.
“From what I’ve seen, Mikie isn’t exactly interested,” Fernando said.
“She’s interested,” Powderkeg said. “She’s just fighting her natural attraction to me, that’s all.”
“Huh,” Fernando said.
“What does that mean?” Powderkeg asked, sitting up straight.
“What does what mean?”
“Huh?” Powderkeg said. “What did you mean by ‘huh’?”
“I meant, I think you’re crazy,” Fernando said. “I was trying to be polite, but since you called me out . . .”
“Yeah,” Powderkeg said. “You’re probably right. But I’m going for it anyway. I’m the first to admit, I’m an acquired taste.”
“Like this brandy,” Pappy said, lifting his glass. “More power to you.”
The men toasted.
“I guess we should be thanking our lucky stars that all we’re worrying about is women,” Pappy said.
“And men,” Fernando said. “And barbecue.”
“Right,” Pappy said. “What I mean is, things could be worse. We could be in Titan’s boots.”
“Isn’t there anything we can do to help him?” Fernando said. “I’ve only been in town a little while—but it’s pretty obvious Titan struck a bad deal with Dodge.”
“Titan is too naïve for his own good,” Pappy said. “He thinks everything will work out just fine. Well, I’m here to tell you, that’s just not true.”
“Could we all put our money together—you know, take up a collection, and buy the bull?” Fernando asked.
Pappy and Powderkeg shook their heads.
“First of all, we’re all on limited funds here. Time is ticking on this town, whether we want to admit it or not,” Powderkeg said. “And secondly, Titan would never take it.”
“How do you know?” Fernando asked.
“We already offered,” Pappy said.
“Isn’t there anything we can do for Titan? For that steer?” Fernando asked.
“He’s not a steer, he’s a bull,” Pappy said. “A steer is neutered. The bull is still . . . well . . . he’s still the baby daddy, if you get my drift.”
“That’s what makes him so valuable,” Powderkeg said.
“It’s all about the family jewels,” Pappy said.
“Isn’t it always?” Fernando poured more brandy.
“You know what we should do?” Without waiting for an answer, Powderkeg continued. “We should turn that bull into a steer. Problem solved.” He paused. “Until Dodge got wind of it.”
“What’s he gonna do, sue us?” Fernando asked, indicating the grandeur that was Fat Chance, Texas.
Powderkeg snickered. “Point taken. Too bad nobody here knows how to neuter a bull.”
“Speak for yourself,” Pappy said, draining his glass. “You don’t live in Texas for thirty years without learning a thing or two.”
“Let’s move it on out,” Fernando said. “OMG! I’ve always wanted to say that!”
The three men finished their brandies and walked out of the café. They stopped at Pappy’s and picked up a tool that looked like giant pinchers.
“Ouch,” Powderkeg said.
“It’s not gonna be a day in the park for old Rocket,” Pappy said. “But it’s for his own good. This way he can stay with Titan and they both can live in Fat Chance.”
Powderkeg, Pappy, and Fernando made their way over to the forge. They stood quietly at the front door, listening. A snort echoed into the night.
“Unless Titan is a snorer,” Powderkeg whispered, “that’s Rocket, and he’s around back.”
“Watch out for that damn bird,” Fernando said, looking around.
“Fancy is asleep,” Pappy said.
“How do you know?” Fernando asked as the men inched their way through the darkness into the area behind the forge.
“You trust him to castrate a full-grown bull, but you’re questioning what he knows about buzzards?” Powderkeg whispered.
“Shut up, you two,” Pappy said as they reached the corner of the forge.
They peeked around the corner and there stood Rocket, drinking water out of an old bathtub that Titan had made into a water trough. His white, freckled coat was visible in the tiny sliver of moonlight.
“Holy crap, he’s big,” Powderkeg said.
Rocket stopped drinking and looked toward the men. They retreated behind the building.
“No turning back now.” Pappy took a step forward.
“Why is there no turning back?” Fernando asked.
“You think if that bull gets even a whiff of our intention, we got any room for negotiations?” Pappy asked.
“For what it’s worth . . . I rode a bull once and I know a couple of things about keeping the animal under control,” Fernando said.
The men turned to look at him in surprise.
Good, he thought. I’ve got their attention.
“Of course I didn’t ride him for long. Damn thing threw me in two seconds, but you can learn a lot about a bull, bouncing around on his back like that.”
Powderkeg and Pappy were staring at him as if they couldn’t believe what he was saying, but he swore that it was God’s honest truth.
“So what happened?” Powderkeg asked.
“Well, the music was so damn loud, I couldn’t . . .” Fernando slurred.
“Music? What music?” Pappy said. “What are you talking about, man?”
“The bull,” Fernando insisted. “The mechanical bull I rode.”
For some reason Fernando couldn’t quite understand, both men lost interest in his story at the same moment. Apparently they had no appreciation of how hard it is to stay on a bucking, ten-ton metal bull. Fernando’s feelings were hurt.
“We’ve got to do what we’ve got to do,” Pappy said. “We have to save our friend . . . and his bull . . . and this is the only way. Fernando, did you bring any more of that brandy along? I could use a little touch of courage right this minute.”
Fernando admitted that he didn’t think to carry brandy on a field trip to castrate a bull.
“But, seriously, if you think about it,” Fernando whispered, “if somebody said that the only way to save you was to cut your nuts off, would you really, really, really want to be saved?”
“That’s a good point, Pappy,” Powderkeg said. “Now that I’m feeling a little more sober, maybe we should rethink this.”
“Lily-livered chickenshits,” Pappy said. “I’ll handle this myself.”
“We who are about to die, salute you,” Powderkeg said to Pappy’s back.
Pappy shook his head and turned to head back toward Rocket.
Rocket, hearing the noises coming from the corner of the forge, decided to investigate. He met Pappy halfway around the building. Pappy was nose to nose with the immense animal, which startled them all.
The men screamed and the bull roared. Rocket lowered his head, the points of his horns catching the moonlight.
“What’s going on?” Titan yelled as he rappelled himself down a rope from his second story perch. He swung down as Rocket took a few steps back, head still lowered.
“This doesn’t look good,” Fernando said. “Titan, talk to him!”
“Rocket, chill out,” Titan said calmly. “These are our friends.”
“We are!” Pappy said as he shoved the pincher in his waistband, under his Hawaiian shirt. “We come in peace.”
Rocket lifted his head and snorted. He ambled over to Titan, who scratched the bull’s head.
“What are you guys doing here so late?” Titan asked sleepily.
“Just making sure Rocket is doing OK,” Pappy said. “We know he’s ha
d a hard road.”
“Aww,” Titan said. He turned to address the bull. “You see, Rocket, everyone loves you here.”
The bull snorted. The threesome exchanged guilty glances.
“Now that we know he’s OK,” Pappy said, “we’ll be going.”
“Are you sure? I could invite you in—I have some of Fernando’s brandy . . .”
“No!” Powderkeg said, cutting him off. He took a deep breath. “I think we’ve all had enough brandy, thanks.”
“OK,” Titan said. “I wouldn’t really want to wake Fancy anyway.”
“God forbid,” Fernando said, pulling at Pappy and Powderkeg.
The men breathed a collective sigh of relief as they headed down Main Street.
“Do you think Rocket knew why we were there?” Powderkeg asked.
Pappy shrugged.
“Do you think he really would have charged us?” Fernando asked.
“Maybe.” Pappy shrugged again. “Or maybe not.”
“If he wasn’t going to charge us, that bull is one drama queen,” Fernando said.
CHAPTER 19
“Auntie,” Elwood called out in the foyer of Cleo’s mansion. A“Where are you?”
Cleo came out of her second story bedroom and looked down the curved staircase. “I’m up here, darling.”
“You will not believe what happened today!” Elwood called up, climbing two stairs at a time.
“The university came up with the funding?” Cleo asked. She realized her mistake as soon as she’d said it. Elwood stopped dead in his tracks.
“Yes,” he said. “How did you know?”
“Wild guess,” she said, then quickly changed the subject. “That is wonderful news. Have you told Dymphna yet?”
“I tried calling, but you know what the phone service is like out there. I’ll send a text and e-mail, but there isn’t any guarantee she’ll get them.”
“Well then, what are we waiting for? I’ll have Jeffries . . . Donald . . . get the plane ready.”
“I can’t leave right this minute,” Elwood said as he climbed the rest of the stairs. He swung his backpack off his shoulder and started rummaging around in it. “I’ve got to finish my classes. I can’t leave the kids hanging.”
“Of course,” Cleo said.
Damn Elwood. Always thinking of others.
“And I won’t be taking the plane—I have to bring the Outback. It’ll be good to have some backup in case the Covered Volkswagen gives up the ghost.”
Cleo grimaced. Of course Elwood would want to drive! This everyman attitude of his could be so annoying! She thought about taking the plane herself and meeting him there, but she just couldn’t envision arriving in Fat Chance alone. She’d have to go with him.
If he’ll take me.
“Would you mind some company?” she asked hesitantly.
“I hadn’t really thought about it.” He put his backpack on the floor, knelt, and continued to look through various compartments in it. “Who did you have in mind?”
“Me,” Cleo said in a small voice.
Elwood looked up in surprise. His glasses slipped down his nose. Cleo hoped she didn’t look as pathetic as she felt.
“You?”
“Yes. I mean, I did tell you I had changed my mind about Fat Chance.”
“Yes, but I assumed that was just a weak moment.” Elwood finally stopped digging. “The provost himself came out of his office to wish me well. He shook my hand and said to give this to you.”
He stood up and handed his aunt a pie plate.
Pappy stood in the middle of the street with his cell phone up to his ear. “Good to hear,” he said. “OK, I’m losing reception.”
He pulled the phone away, shook it, and returned it to his ear. “I said I’m losing reception,” he yelled. “I’ll see you at the store in two hours.”
“Could you keep it down?” Powderkeg rasped as he jumped off the boardwalk onto Main Street. “I could hear you from the shop.”
“Sorry,” Pappy said. “I’m still nursing a hangover myself from that infernal brandy.”
“Next time we should stick with fruit smoothies,” Powderkeg said. “Leave the brandy for the heavy hitters.”
“Not sure if there’ll ever be a next time,” Pappy said.
“Lucky for Rocket.” Fernando seemed to appear out of nowhere. He turned to Pappy. “Did I hear you say you were heading to Spoonerville?”
“Yeah,” Pappy said. “Jerry Lee and I are heading over there.”
“I’ll go with you,” Fernando said. “I have a couple things on order that must have come in by now.”
“No more peach brandy, I hope,” Pappy said.
“I’ll pass,” Powderkeg said. “If we could take the damned Covered Volkswagen. But no fan belts means walking.”
“That’s why I’m going,” Pappy said. “That was Mikie on the phone just now. The new fan belt is in.”
“I’m not a gambler,” Old Bertha said from the boardwalk, where she sat with Elvis in front of the grocery store. “But if I were, I’d bet that Powderkeg is about to change his mind.”
“If the innkeeper-grocer thing doesn’t work out,” Powderkeg said to Old Bertha, “maybe you could go into fortune-telling. Pappy, count me in.”
Before the trio headed out, Fernando asked Pappy if he could fill Jerry Lee’s saddlebags on the way to Spoonerville.
“On the way to Spoonerville?” Pappy asked. “Usually supplies only go one way.”
“I know,” Fernando said. “I have my reasons.”
“Knock yourself out,” Pappy replied.
Fernando, Powderkeg, and Pappy headed out to Spoonerville with Jerry Lee outfitted with his fully packed saddlebags. By unspoken agreement, the three decided not to mention the excursion to Titan. It seemed a little coldhearted to ask him to face Dodge, especially since not one of them thought Titan had a chance of coming out ahead in their arrangement.
As the store came into view, the men stopped so Fernando could change out of his sneakers and into his boots. Mikie’s biplane flew overhead, close enough to the ground that the men could see her wave to them before the plane disappeared from view.
“Maybe Mikie’ll rush over to the store now that she knows we’re here,” Fernando teased as the group headed into the final stretch of their journey.
“Count on it,” Powderkeg said.
Pappy tied Jerry Lee to the hitching post, then grabbed Powderkeg’s sleeve as an older woman in jeans and a plaid shirt, her white hair in a tousled bun, walked up the stairs. A tall, lean cowboy was at her side.
“Powderkeg!” Pappy rasped. “I think that lady is Meriwether McMurphy!”
“Your old flame?” Fernando asked, straining to get a look at the woman.
“Yes!” Pappy said.
“‘My old flame,’” Fernando sang. “‘I can’t even think of her name.’”
“Yes, I can,” Pappy said. “I just told you—Meriwether McMurphy! What’s gotten into you, Fernando?”
Fernando just shook his head.
“I haven’t seen her in thirty years! She looks old.”
“Thirty years will do that to a person,” Fernando said.
“What’s she doing here?” Pappy asked.
“I guess now that she has somebody to help her, she gets round a little more,” Powderkeg said.
“I guess I better go say hello.” Pappy ran his fingers through his wild hair.
“Don’t you go cheating on Old Bertha,” Powderkeg said.
“Old Bertha might just have to get in line,” Pappy said. “Let’s see what today brings.”
“You two are delusional,” Fernando said as he unpacked Jerry Lee’s saddlebags. “You know that?”
“When you live in a place like Fat Chance, Texas, that can be a good thing,” Powderkeg said.
The three men climbed the stairs to the store. Fernando, carrying a small box, opened the door, and with a sweeping hand gesture, ushered his compatriots inside. The store was packed wit
h cowboys.
“Must be payday,” Fernando said gleefully. “Just like in the novel I read.”
“I thought they were gambling in the novel,” Pappy said.
“They were spending M-O-N-E-Y,” Fernando whispered. “That’s the important thing. Now—watch and learn.”
Fernando wandered over to the cashier’s stand, Dodge was ensconced in his usual place behind the counter.
“Hey, Dodge.” Fernando placed the box on the counter. “My order come in?”
Dodge ducked his head under the desk and came up with a filled paper bag. He passed the bag to Fernando without comment.
“What do I owe you?”
“A hundred and twenty dollars,” Dodge said.
“Wow,” Fernando said, playing to the patrons of the store, some of whom were eavesdropping. It wasn’t every day that someone spent over a hundred dollars at the Spoonerville general store. “Well, you’ve got to spend money to make money. Isn’t that what they say?”
He turned and looked at Dodge, as if waiting for him to answer.
“I guess that’s what they say,” Dodge said reluctantly.
“Let me see if I have my credit card with me.” Fernando patted his jeans and shirt pockets. “Nope. Maybe it’s in here.”
Fernando opened the box he’d been carrying and set it on the counter. Inside was a thick towel. He lifted the towel—and the intoxicating aroma of barbecue filled the store. Murmurs of appreciation bounced off the walls as cowboys and ranch hands followed their noses. Fernando was waiting for them—brisket and toothpicks in hand. Fernando caught Powderkeg’s sly thumbs-up signal as he started to pass out samples of the tender meat.
“This is fantastic,” one man said, trying to spear another sample.
Fernando slapped his hand away. “One sample per person,” he said, handing another ranch hand a toothpick.
“This is the best barbecue for a hundred miles,” another man said.
“Only for one hundred miles?” Fernando said.
“Well, maybe . . .” The man looked around for support.
“The world?” Fernando offered. “The universe?”
It was as if Fernando had turned the store into a party. Everyone was smiling and chatting about the food.
“Where can we get more?” a woman asked.
Slim Pickings in Fat Chance, Texas Page 14
