Taco Bob called a meeting one morning after breakfast. The men filed into the main room of the house and found seats.
“Every man here is a damn hard worker, and I know none of y’all would have any trouble hiring on at one of the other ranches. I just wanted to thank y’all for hanging in here with me.” Feet shuffled and shoulders shrugged. “We got the possum herd looking better than ever lately, so when the market gets right again, there shouldn’t be any problem getting y’all them back wages.” A few smiles and a wink or two sprang up among the men.
The possum herd wasn’t the only thing looking better. Hard outdoor work by determined men with no money for carousing or drinking and plenty of nutritious food had the possum ranchers at their prime. There were some unexpected benefits from the total lack of alcohol: Smith remembered he knew how to play the guitar and Horse not only found his little round bifocal reading glasses, but realized he’d been wearing them upside down for years.
Taco Bob looked around the room before continuing. “The state inspector should be here any day now, so let’s be sure to cooperate with the man, and if he asks a question you don’t know the answer to, run and find Pete or me.” A car horn sounded in the front yard. “Mumbles, would you see who that is? If it’s Skunk, you have my permission to deal with him as you see fit – that is, as long as it doesn’t involve in any way setting fire to or damaging the ranch.” Mumbles leapt up grinning and scurried out the front door. “Y’all go get yourselves some sleep. Tonight I’ll take a couple of men and we’ll – ” Everyone looked up as Mumbles burst into the room.
“Mm mnhn mnn!”
The room emptied in a matter of seconds. Taco Bob and Pete lead the procession to the inspector’s car and were all grinning and hands-shaking.
Two hours later the inspector had looked over most of the possum herd.
“Them little fellas all look right as rain so far. I reckon I’ll have a look at the rest this afternoon after lunch – that is if I don’t get no emergency calls come in.” He pointed to the cell phone on his belt. Taco Bob shook his head slowly.
“No sense in running all the way back to town for lunch. I’m sure Hop could whip up a little something. In fact, he’d probably be all heartbroken if you didn’t have a bite while you’re here.”
“Well, I reckon I could. Wouldn’t want to hurt the man’s feelings.”
♦
The food waiting on the table looked like something out of a magazine and smelled like heaven to the hungry inspector. He had a seat in front of the lone place setting.
“My, this do look fine.” The state man was good-natured, round, jowly, and looked like he knew his way around a dinner table. “Y’all ain’t going to have some?” Taco Bob sat across from the inspector and smiled.
“We just had a big feed earlier. Hop always enjoys cooking for guests; you should bring the li’l woman out for the evening meal sometime.”
The inspector started loading his plate from the numerous steaming bowls and platters.
“Thanks, I might just do that.” Hop smiled big from the kitchen doorway while the rest of the men were busy in the front yard under the watchful eye of Pete.
♦
When the inspector finished checking the possums, he rode with Taco Bob on Horse’s ATV back to the ranch house. The rest of the possum ranchers were standing around the state-issued car parked in the front yard, and all lit up big grins when Taco Bob flashed them a covert ‘thumbs up’. The inspector climbed off the ATV and scribbled on his clipboard.
“Here’s your clean bill of health on them possums. Reckon I’ll check some of the other possum ranches next while I’m at it.” He looked for his car. “I could have swore I parked here in front.”
Pete shooed the others aside and made a Vanna White gesture with his hands toward the car.
“Why, it’s right here, Inspector.”
The state man looked at the spotless and shiny car. “It is? Does look the same inside, and my stuff is in there, but my car is gray.”
“Well, Mumbles seen a crow fly over and crap on it. He went to wipe it off and kinda got carried away. We come over to give him a hand, and when we got all the layers of caked dust and mud off, we found this nice shiny red car.”
The bewildered inspector ran his hand over the freshly polished surface of the gleaming car. “Well, I’ll be. You know, I think it might have been red when I first got it.”
The front door of the ranch house slammed and Hop ran out with a little paper bag for the inspector.
“Possum Surplise for wife. Maybe you get lucky tonight.”
“Why, thank you, Hop. Y’all need any more inspecting, just give me a holler, ya here?”
The men all stood and waved goodbye as the state car drove carefully around a couple of lingering mud puddles and headed on down the road.
“You boys get some shut-eye, I got business to attend to.”
And with that – and the inspection certificate – Taco Bob jumped in his truck and headed for town.
∨ Possum Surprise ∧
26
Hollywood
“Hey Doc, when’d you get back?”
Taco Bob had a seat and looked over at his friend who sat at his desk staring at the ever-present pocket journal.
“This morning. Glad to be back too, I’m really getting to hate Hollywood.” Doc held up a warning hand. “Don’t ask how it went. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You weren’t gone long, only three days. I was hoping that might be a good thing.”
“It was close this time. Mighty close. But I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Gotcha.” The possum rancher looked around the room a minute while Doc furiously scribbled and typed. “Say, Doc – ”
“How much do you need?” Doc pulled out his wallet. “Twenty do it?”
“Actually, I just wanted to thank you for helping us get that reward money for the Daltons.”
“Oh, sure. You just have to know how to talk to those people. No problem, glad I could help.” Doc held his wallet and waited.
“Remember we told you about the rumor about Mad Possum Disease? And how the bank wouldn’t give me a loan?”
“Yeah, you said the possum market dried up and the bank’s loan manager wouldn’t give you the time of day.”
“Exactly. Well, I’m proud to say we got a clean bill of health from the state inspector, and I just came from the bank. Should be getting that loan in a few days. Then I can pay off Old Man Burke. That bank loan is a lot better terms.” Like most of the residents of Possum Row, Taco Bob didn’t really like – much less trust – banks, and would take a loan from one only in an emergency.
Doc wasn’t a big fan of banks either. Taco Bob had heard the man’s rants about how hard it was for a working man to get a small business loan, but how that same bank would cheerfully issue credit cards like they were throws at a parade. Doc slipped his wallet back in his pants pocket.
“Well, I’m glad you got the loan. I heard that inspection cost you a new car, though. Somebody told Pedro they seen the state man driving around in a shiny new red car right after he was out at your place.”
“Doc, we washed the man’s car and used about a dollar’s worth of car wax we found in the barn.” Taco Bob leaned forward in his chair. “Pedro say who told him that?”
“Think he said one of Kracker’s men.”
“That so?” Taco Bob leaned back in his chair. “We had a report from an unreliable source it was Kracker started the Mad Possum rumor. Supposed to be wanting to drive the last of us possum ranchers out of business so he can buy up our land.”
Doc gave this some thought.
“How unreliable?”
“Hazel heard it in jail.”
“That’s pretty unreliable, all right. I’ve been hearing some strange stuff about him lately myself.” Doc launched into the full story of the e-mails and phone calls he’d gotten while in California about Kracker’s offer on his place – and the cattl
e rancher’s plans for the old house.
“Kracker wants your place so he can open a cathouse and go into competition with Hummer’s? That’s mighty odd. Reliable source?”
“The offer is pretty much what I was asking, and Dottie is the source.”
“I’d say that’s pretty solid.”
“Well, don’t tell anyone. The way Hummer is, he finds out about it he’ll get depressed, maybe do something rash.”
Taco Bob had to work on that a beat or two.
“You going to sell?”
“I might. I haven’t had a chance to talk to Dottie in person about it yet, and she’s gone now herself. Went to some realtor’s convention in Houston.”
“Well, it’s looking like we’re going to be in the possum business again soon. I reckon I better get on back to the ranch.”
∨ Possum Surprise ∧
27
Town
Though Armadillo is a typical modern Texas city, Possum Row hasn’t changed much since the 1930s. While the rest of the country was busy digging itself out of the Great Depression in order to get ready for things like World War II, the Cold War, Rock and Roll, Microsoft, and Harry Potter, the quiet community of Possum Row took a long siesta. It was as though Possum Row remained a late-night black and white movie in a Technicolor world.
The land in the immediate area wasn’t much good for cattle or crops, but just fine for possums. The possum industry plodded along largely unnoticed for years, except during the Blackened Possum Craze, which transformed the hardworking, but dirt-poor possum ranchers into hardworking, but not nearly as dirt-poor possum ranchers. A few even made enough money to be considered almost respectable middle-class citizens. Luckily this didn’t last long, and when the Blackened Possum Craze gave way to the Blackened Redfish Craze everyone on Possum Row was back to plain old dirt-poor, and the few who’d had a brush with respectability were once again able to relax and be themselves.
While some of the residents on the row spent their hard-earned in the stores of nearby Armadillo, most still shopped at Pedro’s, not only for the wide selection, but because Pedro offered something few modern stores would even consider – you didn’t need a credit card to get credit at Pedro’s.
♦
Pedro came out the front door of his store and chased away two boys staring in the window at the wide assortment of dusty, delicate, and dangerous items on display.
“Vamanos! Get jobs and come back with money!” One of the boys gave Pedro the finger and both ran away hard.
The owner of the biggest, best stocked, and only general store in the area noticed Taco Bob driving away from Doc’s place across the street. Both men waved. Pedro turned his thoughts to Doc.
“It would be nice to do something for Doc.”
In a small town anything out of the ordinary is quickly noticed, especially by someone with a precarious hold on the region’s retail trade. So, before Pedro could think too much about something nice to do for Doc, his attention was diverted.
A coal-black stretch limo came slowly down the street. Pedro held his usual post by the front door, and tried not to stare too hard into the dark windows of the car when it stopped briefly in front of his store. The car moved on and the shopkeeper’s knees shook.
“Ay, thees is not a good thing.”
Just an hour earlier Humberto had been in Pedro’s store tearfully telling his sad story of the one thing that all businesses in an open and free market fear the most: competition.
Humberto had many sources around town and word had come to him of a plan by someone to buy Doc’s place and open a competing whorehouse. Pedro mentioned the visit he’d had from Doc and the woman realtor. He told Hummer that Doc had asked about a company, and how once the cattleman Kracker had written a check from that company.
Pedro had always thought competition was quite healthy – that is, as long as it happened to someone else. Though it would hurt Hummer’s business, there would likely be extra customers for the store. Pedro should have been happy, and he had been, until the limo drove by. The long black car left a small cloud of dust and a feeling of dread in the soul of Pedro that he couldn’t seem to shake.
∨ Possum Surprise ∧
28
Back at the Ranch
After another long night of ranching and another outstanding meal, Taco Bob called a meeting on the front porch. He felt better than he had in weeks, good enough even to feel the need to wax a bit philosophical.
“Well, boys, like I mentioned at breakfast, it looks like things might be turning around for us. Whoever said lots of hard work and clean living – ”
There was a clanging coming from the direction of the road leading to the ranch and a dust plume rising. The ranch didn’t get many visitors, so all eyes and most attention went to the road. An old, rust-brown pickup came into view.
“Mhnm mmh! Mnm mhnn mm!”
Taco Bob gave Mumbles a glance.
“As much as I might tend to agree with that, it still seems a mite harsh. After all, he is your cousin.”
“Mnh mm mn!”
“Well, there is that.”
The old truck came through the gate, and after considerable squealing of worn-out brakes and some noisy gear grinding, came to a stop against a rotting tree stump. A lone figure jumped from the cab, raised a pint bottle to its mouth, and drank long before dropping the empty bottle in the back of the pickup.
“Howdy, varmint ranchers!”
Taco Bob looked into the expectant eyes of Mumbles and gave him the slightest nod. The little man took off into the yard like a shot and pounced on Skunk Johnson. While the two men wrestled around on the dusty ground, Taco Bob continued.
“Where was I? Oh, yeah. Anyway, I got the bank loan started and showed the inspection paper to the livestock buyer and Pedro. By the end of the week I expect to have that high-interest loan taken care of, and Pedro’s sending out a big load of possum feed tomorrow. Boys, it looks like we’re back in the possum business.”
A good cheer came up from the men, enough of a cheer for Mumbles to look up from hitting Skunk in the face with a length of tree branch. Skunk let loose his hold on his cousin’s throat and both men got up and stumbled over.
“Mhn mm?”
Jones was the most excited. “Taco Bob is getting the bank loan and we’re going to start selling possums again!”
Everyone was grinning and slapping each other on the back. Mumbles and Skunk started doing a little Irish jig with some of the men clapping time and stomping their feet. Pete told Hazel to run around back and yell down in the well hole to let Hop know the good news. Jones eased up to a smiling Taco Bob.
“Boss, shouldn’t we be helping Hop some? Seems like digging a well in that hard old ground in the hot sun is kind of a rough thing for one man to be doing on his own.”
Taco Bob just leaned back in his chair. He felt a resurgence of his philosophical self.
“Most all of us have got a certain amount of plain ol’ orneriness deep down inside. Some got a lot, and those who don’t do something about it usually end up in some kind of trouble sooner or later. Those smart ones like Hop who got an inordinate amount of ornery try to find an outlet for the cantankerousness that builds up inside them. So about once a year Hop digs a new well, whether we need one or not.”
Jones stood nodding and working this over in his mind and noticed Hazel coming back around the house. He saw Hazel stop suddenly and put a hand against the porch railing to steady himself.
“Boss! Something’s wrong with Hazel!”
Taco Bob looked over and shrugged.
“Here it comes.”
Hazel held his head while staggering over towards the dancers and plopped down on the ground. Everyone stopped what they were doing and waited for it. They didn’t have to wait long.
“I got it! I got an idea! What with everything starting to turn around here an’ all, well, maybe now we could do something nice for Doc. Maybe we could have that party!”
Eve
ry eye went to Taco Bob sitting on the porch in his rocker.
“Haze, I think you got right to it. Here we are all happy an’ shit just because a whole lotta hard work is about to start paying off for us. And the entire time we ain’t been thinking about nothing but our own worthless hides.” The men all looked embarrassed. “I reckon the only thing we could do to right this kind of selfish behavior is, well, to throw Doc the biggest party of all time!”
A fresh cheer sprang up from the men except for Mumbles, who’d been rooting around in the back of Skunk’s truck. He wanted to make sure there wasn’t a half-swallow of liquor going to waste in the discarded bottle when he made an amazing discovery: a bag of full pint bottles of Old Malaria and one large onion. He held up the bag triumphantly.
“Mhn mmn mnm!”
“Hey! Them’s my groceries for the week!”
Skunk started to protest further, but was nearly stampeded and instead joined the men taking bottles from his cousin.
“Mhn mm?”
“Well, y’all calm down a mite an’ I’ll tell you.”
Each man held a small brown bottle and listened.
“I sold me a couple ant colonies to Pedro this morning. After he gave me the money, he said he’d been reading about a trick and asked if I’d like to make a little wager. Well, y’all know me, I did. The way Pedro explained it, there weren’t no way I could see him winning the bet. But the sneaky devil did, and I lost all my money.”
Mumbles turned loose an unabashed snort. Skunk gave him a hard look before continuing.
“But some roughnecks from one of those offshore oil rigs come in the store as I was leaving. They’d just got paid and were already half in the bag. One boy had so much money it was sticking out of his pockets. I asked him if he was a betting man and a few minutes later I had a fist full of cash.”
“Mhn mmn mm?”
Skunk looked over his audience to make sure he had everyone’s attention.
Possum Surprise Page 9
