They were gunshots, all right. She could hear yelling and see shadows on the street. But she was too far away to figure out exactly what was going on. Should she go into town and see? Stay here and protect her animals? Could she even protect her animals?
While she stood in the front yard, two men dashed right by her, splashing across the creek at the bottom of the hill. They flew by her so fast, she saw nothing but two silhouettes in motion, but it was obvious that they weren’t anyone she knew. She ran to the barn, feeling along the wall for a light switch. She knew there had to be one—she had seen a lightbulb hanging over one of the stalls earlier. Admonishing herself for not making a note of the location of the light switch, but determined to check on her animals, Dymphna ran back into the house and grabbed her cell phone. Even though she had no reception, she’d plugged it in out of habit and it was fully charged. Returning to the barn, she tapped the flashlight icon and scanned the barn. The animals looked up groggily, then returned to sleep. The animals knew they were safe.
If only Dymphna felt the same way.
CHAPTER 19
Dymphna opened her eyes when she heard the snap of a twig outside the barn. Had she really fallen asleep? Had the intruders come back? The goats had been snuggled around her, but were now as agitated as she, bleating loudly. She wasn’t sure if they were looking to her for protection or if they were protecting her.
Some watchdog you are, Dymphna Pearl!
A watchdog! That’s what she needed.
Another snap from outside—closer this time. The first trickle of sunlight was coming through the cracks in the barn walls. She jumped as she heard the rooster announce the coming of a new day. Would the rooster be enough to scare the men away? The rooster crowed again. Another twig snapped.
I guess that would be no.
There was just enough light for Dymphna to spot a thin coiled rope hanging on a peg by the entrance. Silently, she crept toward the door. By now, her goats were making so much noise she could have stomped over and no one would have heard her.
The thought that no one could hear her sent a tremor down her spine. But she was tasked with safeguarding these animals. She would do whatever it took to keep them safe. The rope was on a hook just slightly out of reach. Dymphna stood on her toes. She just managed to pull it down and tied one end to the bottom of a post on one side of the door. Stretching the rope as low and taut as possible, she tied the other end to a post on the opposite side of the door. Her sleep-deprived theory was that whoever tried to get in, would trip, giving her goats—and herself—time to escape.
As soon as the rope was in place, the barn door creaked open. Dymphna stood back in the shadows. A ferocious growl erupted from the doorway, as a hound from hell leapt over the rope. It landed in the center of the barn and started barking at the terrified goats, who ran to the back of the barn as fast as their little legs could carry them. Dymphna could hear the chickens squawking loudly in the henhouse. Her breathing was ragged as she faced down the animal.
It was Thud.
What is he doing here?
“Thud!” Dymphna grabbed the dog’s collar. “Stop! Good boy!”
Good boy? He’s terrorizing my goats!
Another sound made Dymphna turn toward the barn door. She turned in time to see a man’s silhouette in the open doorway. She bent down and wrapped her arms around Thud. Here was her watchdog, for good or ill. Dymphna held her breath. The man moved silently through the doorframe. He tripped over the rope as if on cue. The dog pounced.
“Stop it, Thud!”
Stop it, Thud? How does this man know the dog’s name? Unless it’s . . .
“Professor Johnson?”
Professor Johnson was still wrestling with his slobbering bloodhound’s kisses. When he finally pushed the dog off and got to his feet, he squinted at Dymphna, who was suddenly acutely aware that she was standing there in her underwear and cowboy boots. She cast a quick eye around the barn for her blanket. One of the goats was lying on it, watching the action.
“I came to see if you were all right,” he said. “We had some . . . excitement in town.”
“I know,” Dymphna said. “I heard the gunshots. Is anybody hurt?”
“No. The gunshots were from Pappy, scaring them off. I seem to have dropped my glasses. Do you see them?”
“Don’t move,” Dymphna said, realizing it was still pretty dark in the barn. “You might step on them. I have a flashlight.”
She grabbed her phone. Hitting the flashlight icon, she started hunting.
“Here they are.” She picked up the glasses and bent the wire frames into place. “I hope they’re OK.”
“I needed to make sure you were all right,” Professor Johnson said. “The moon was so bright, I could see the men heading toward your place. Thud and I went after them, but a cloud rolled in and I couldn’t see anything. I thought Thud was on the scent, so I just followed him. By the time the cloud cover had passed, I was completely off course. Thud had just gone to the creek for a drink of water. If the creek wasn’t so loud where it emptied into that pond, I probably would have fallen in!”
Dawn was filtering through the barn in soft waves. Dymphna tried not to smile, but she couldn’t help herself.
“I told you—Thud has other skills. Those guys crossed the creek just behind here. I think they’re long gone.”
Professor Johnson walked toward her and touched her shoulder. Even in her cowboy boots, she was a head shorter than he was.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked. “You’re shaking.”
Dymphna was shaking. But she knew it wasn’t from fear.
Thud thrust his enormous head between them. The spell was broken. Professor Johnson’s crisp demeanor returned like a swallow to Capistrano.
“I’m glad everything is shipshape,” he said.
Shipshape? Who talks like that?
“I’m fine,” Dymphna said, taking a step away from him. “I’ll see you in town later.”
“If you’re sure. I mean, we could wait.”
“No, thank you,” Dymphna said, feeling more and more undressed as sunlight filled the barn. “I’m sure everything will be OK.”
She could tell the professor was hesitant to leave. And in all honesty, she was a little leery about staying by herself. But she knew she would have to get used to being alone, so she might as well start now.
Professor Johnson went over and inspected the rope that had tripped him. He untied the booby trap, recoiled the rope, and handed it to her. “Suppose I leave Thud with you for the rest of the morning? You can bring him down the hill at your leisure.”
Thud seemed to understand he was staying. He leaned against Dymphna as they watched Professor Johnson walk down the hill.
Dymphna kissed the dog on the top of his wrinkled head.
“Who’s my hero?” she asked.
It was easier to ask the dog than Professor Johnson.
By eight thirty Dymphna and Thud were headed into Fat Chance. She initially walked toward the creek, thinking that would be a pretty route and more fun for Thud, but then she remembered her late-night visitors went that way. She reversed course and just headed down the hill. As she walked onto the street—she had christened it Main Street, although it was the only road in town—she saw that everyone had gathered on the steps of City Hall.
Dymphna didn’t realize how incredibly terrified she had been until she saw the group assembled in the center of the street. Thud bounded ahead toward his master. She saw Professor Johnson and wondered if their conversation was going to be awkward. He strode toward her, Thud at his heels.
“Thanks for lending Thud to me,” she said.
“I’m not sure it’s a good idea, you living so far from us,” he said.
“I can see Fat Chance from my front door. It’s not really far at all.”
Dymphna thought Professor Johnson was reaching for Thud, who was jumping on her, but his arm went around her shoulder. She flushed. In her wildest dreams,
she never expected to be navigated to the middle of their little band of misfits with Professor Johnson’s protective arm around her.
Everyone was there but Cleo. Titan had a huge triangular piece of iron in his fist.
“Settle down. You’re all safe,” Pappy said, trying to calm everyone down as they compared notes.
“Polly and I were terrified,” Old Bertha said. “Thank God Powderkeg was there to protect us.”
“It was my pleasure.” Powderkeg unleashed one of his charming smiles on Old Bertha. He turned to Dymphna. “I saw Professor Johnson and the dog going up your way, so I figured I’d stand guard in town.”
“I couldn’t get back to sleep last night, so I made this,” Titan said as he handed Pappy the iron triangle. “I thought it might help in the case of future attacks.”
“We weren’t attacked! Y’all need to toughen up!” Pappy said, his arms nearly buckling under the weight—and Pappy was a strong man! “What is it?”
“It’s a chuck-wagon triangle,” Titan said. “I used to see them in old Westerns when I was a kid. Instead of shooting, next time you need to raise the alarm, you can just clang.”
“Clang?” Pappy’s voice bristled with outrage. “What fun is there in that?”
“I don’t like guns,” Titan said.
Pappy ignored the comment as he studied the triangle. “I would have seen the smoke and heard you banging away if you were working on the anvil,” he said. “How did you make this?”
“I bent it,” Titan said simply.
“You bent it?” Pappy was clearly impressed. “I’ll be damned.”
Titan seemed embarrassed as the group looked at the triangle with renewed admiration. He clearly wasn’t one to crave the spotlight.
Dymphna decided to step in and change the subject. “Where is Cleo?” she asked.
“She got up early,” Old Bertha said. “I heard the floorboards squeaking in her room about dawn. I looked out the window and saw her go over to the café.”
It didn’t seem to occur to Old Bertha, but she had just revealed herself as the town busybody.
“Do I smell coffee?” Polly asked.
The group turned as one toward the café as Cleo walked out onto the boardwalk with a large metal coffeepot. She leaned against a sagging pillar and spoke to her fellow townspeople.
“Old Bertha traded me a place to stay for meals in the café,” she said. “I started thinking that I might be able to make some deals with the rest of you. Marsh—Powderkeg, I’ll need tables mended. Polly, I want seat cushions made. Dymphna, you could supply me with a steady supply of eggs, and Wally, we can work out a deal about groceries. Elwood, you and I will work out how to operate the bar and café side by side. How does that sound?”
“Sounds good,” Wally said.
“What about me?” Titan asked. Dymphna patted his massive bicep.
As Wally headed up the steps to the café, he was cut off by Fancy, who stood in the doorway of the café, looking down at them. Cleo screeched and almost tumbled down the stairs with the pot. Waitress training was like riding a bicycle—you never forgot how to do it—and the coffeepot didn’t spill a drop.
Titan ran up the stairs, knelt down and spoke to the bird. Dymphna watched, fascinated, as Fancy looked into Titan’s face, then lurched off across the boardwalk, flopped down the stairs, and headed back to the forge.
“All right, Titan,” Cleo said, regaining her composure. “Two meals a day if you keep your friend on your side of the street—and if you help me around here.”
Titan nodded in agreement.
“And you have to include me, too,” Pappy said.
“Why do I need you?”
“Protection,” Pappy said.
“Because you’re also the local Mafia?” Professor Johnson asked.
“Who saved y’all from those outlaws?” Pappy said.
“Outlaws?” Cleo asked. “Did I miss something?”
Everyone was staring at Pappy.
“Let’s eat,” Pappy said. “I’ll tell you all about it over breakfast.”
CHAPTER 20
“Outlaws,” Pappy said as Cleo served up dried-cherry muffins and pancakes with warm syrup.
Dymphna shot a quick glance at Titan—Was Pappy nuts? Titan seemed to read her mind and shrugged.
“This is bullshit,” Wally said.
“Young man,” Pappy said, “you really need to come up with at least one other expression.”
The townspeople, all seated at one long table, held their collective breath, waiting for the epithet that they knew was ready to spew forth from Wally’s mouth. Wally Wasabi caught Old Bertha’s eye and miraculously held his tongue.
“How do you know they’re outlaws?” Polly asked. She was in her pajamas, but already had her full Goth makeup in place.
“You think I don’t know an outlaw when I see one?” Pappy said. “Back in the day, this place was overrun with lowlifes!”
“It was?” Old Bertha gasped, closing her robe around her throat.
“Fat Chance was a Pony Express stop. Some exhausted rider would be just getting into town, when bam!” Pappy smacked the table. “He’d be held at gunpoint. Happened all the time.”
“The Pony Express stopped operations in 1866,” Professor Johnson said.
“I’m just saying, attacks of this nature are not uncommon around here,” Pappy said. “Besides, I know those two. They used to work and live over at the ranch, but they split off. They live up in the hills somewhere. A couple times a week they come down here and cause trouble.”
“Split off?” Professor Johnson asked. “From what? Not that I doubt you, but there probably hasn’t been a band of outlaws around here in almost a hundred years.”
“I know that,” Pappy said. “They didn’t split off from any band of outlaws; they split off from their league.”
“Their league?” Titan asked.
“Yeah,” Pappy said. “They were part of the ranch’s bowling team.”
“We’re being attacked by a bowling team?” Powderkeg let out a booming laugh.
“Not the whole team,” Pappy said. “Like I said, it’s just the two of them.”
“Why are they coming here?”
“Who knows? They only come around at night and I’m always ready for them.”
“Yeah,” Powderkeg said, recalling the gun blasts of the night before. “We heard.”
“What do they want?” Old Bertha asked. “I mean, there’s nothing here.”
“You can say that again,” Wally said.
“I can’t figure that out myself.” Pappy pushed his cowboy hat back on his head. “They’ve been coming around for a couple months. They sneak into town and stand in the middle of the street. The weird thing is, they always come when the moon is up. I can see them clear as day.”
“Well, if you can see them clear as day, why haven’t you shot one of them yet?” Wally asked.
“You sure have a mean streak, kid,” Pappy said. “I don’t want to shoot anybody. I put rock salt in my shells. I just want to scare them off. It’s my job as mayor.”
“It is not your job as mayor!” Professor Johnson corrected. “It’s your job as sheriff.”
“Whatever,” Pappy said, winking at Wally.
Dymphna couldn’t believe her eyes, but she saw a slight smile tug at Wally’s lips.
Cleo returned with fresh coffee.
“Seems to me we need some sort of plan,” Powderkeg said, pulling out a chair beside him. “Cleo, sit down a minute. We’ve all had plenty to eat.”
“We sure have,” Dymphna said. “I can’t believe how good everything was!”
“Surprised?” Cleo asked.
A chorus of no’s made it pretty obvious the answer throughout the room was yes.
Cleo shot a glance at Powderkeg, who silently saluted her. She filled a few more cups, then sat down.
“Shooting to scare them off isn’t a good enough plan,” Old Bertha said.
Pappy bristled. �
�Why not? It’s worked so far.”
“You’ve got a town full of people now,” Cleo said. “You can’t go blasting off guns right and left.”
“Besides, you’re waking everybody up,” added Wally.
“If these creeps are stalking around town, I don’t mind being awake,” Old Bertha said.
Pappy stood up. “Well, if any of you come up with a better idea, let me know.” He walked out the door.
The new inhabitants of Fat Chance looked at each other. Had they hurt Pappy’s feelings? Did Pappy have feelings?
CHAPTER 21
Cleo put Titan to work cleaning up the breakfast dishes. She had to admit, it was soul satisfying to see her neighbors’ eyes light up when they tasted the breakfast she’d offered. While she was able to flex her waitress muscles immediately, it took a little while for her chef’s training to come back to her. But she seemed to have been successful.
“Everything was delicious,” Titan said, soapsuds up to his biceps.
“Thank you, Titan. I haven’t cooked in years, but it was just like getting back on a horse.”
Getting back on a horse? Will I now be spouting Texas clichés at every turn?
Titan seemed to be doing just fine, and she had other business this morning. If she was going to feed people several times a day, she’d need supplies—and the money to pay for them.
She stood in front of the bank, having taken great care with her makeup and clothes. Her father had taught her to always project confidence and success when dealing in finance. You had to look like a winner! Pappy already knew she only had five thousand dollars to her name (minus the expenses from the trip to Fat Chance), and so she certainly was more of a success story than any of her neighbors.
Aren’t I?
She realized she actually hadn’t achieved anything on her own. Over the years, she had become a dynamo in her community, raising money for important causes, chairing committees for the arts, and funding cutting-edge designers as they made their debut in nonprofit house shows. She always did a good job, but it was her name that got her in the door.
Welcome to Fat Chance, Texas Page 12
