Welcome to Fat Chance, Texas

by Celia Bonaduce

  “Hi, Jerry Lee,” she said in her calmest voice. “Who’s the best mule?”

  Jerry Lee seemed to realize he was the best mule, because he walked over to her, putting his nose in her hand. Dymphna kissed his velvety muzzle. Thud whimpered. He clearly didn’t like Jerry Lee getting any of Dymphna’s attention.

  “Ok, Thud,” she said in the same soothing tone. “I’m going to let go of your collar. You be a good dog!”

  She took her hand off Thud’s collar. The dog continued to sit as he stared up at her adoringly. He shifted his gaze to Jerry Lee. Then all hell broke loose. Thud bounded up, shaking spittle in all directions. Some of the slobber whipped across Jerry Lee’s nose, which sent the mule racing across the countryside. Thud, tail wagging, raced after him. Jerry Lee outpaced the dog, but Thud bounded on determinedly. When the dog finally caught up, Jerry Lee started kicking. The dog skidded to a stop. Jerry Lee was an accomplished kicker.

  Dymphna, panting, finally caught up with the animals. “All right, you two,” she said, using her stern voice. “Be friends.”

  The animals seemed to understand that Dymphna’s tone meant they were not the best mule and the good dog. She was able to lead them both up the road and deliver them to their respective owners.

  Dymphna couldn’t imagine what a car passing them on the road would have made of the sight of the Covered Volkswagen. Jerry Lee was towing from the front, Professor Johnson and Pappy were pushing from the rear, and she walked alongside, steering. Thud sat in the driver’s seat, occasionally licking the perspiration off her glistening face.

  It took a half hour of heaving and shoving until Jerry Lee quickened his pace and Dymphna was able to steer the VW onto the pullout above Fat Chance. Pappy and Professor Johnson collapsed on what remained of the fender.

  “Sorry that didn’t work,” Pappy said, slapping a meaty hand onto the professor’s shoulder. “Good try though.”

  “What do you mean, ‘sorry that didn’t work’?” Professor Johnson sounded outraged. “If you’d stayed on the road, everything would have been fine.”

  “Maybe yes, maybe no.” Pappy shrugged. “I guess we’ll never know.”

  “Here’s something I do know,” Professor Johnson said, standing up.

  Pappy got up quickly once Professor Johnson had upset the delicate balance of sitting on the fender.

  The professor opened the engine door and peered in. “This engine is finished.”

  “I agree with you on that one, Prof,” Pappy said.

  “Don’t.” Professor Johnson held up his palm. “Don’t call me Prof.” He stomped down the trail to Fat Chance.

  Thud leapt out the driver’s window and followed, casting a quick glance back at Dymphna.

  “Do you want some help with Jerry Lee?” Dymphna asked as Pappy started to untie the mule.

  Pappy suddenly looked very tired. “No, I got this,” he said forlornly. “I’m getting old, missy. Days like this used to roll off my back.”

  “We’re all here now,” Dymphna said. “Maybe life will be easier.”

  Pappy looked at her. Neither one of them believed it.

  As they started down the hill, Dymphna turned right and left, stomping her feet.

  Pappy looked at her sideways. “You all right there, Dee?”

  “Yes.” Dymphna shuddered. “I saw a snake out here earlier and I just want to make sure he knows we’re here.”

  “Oh, he knows we’re here, all right,” Pappy said, spreading his hands about four feet apart. “You’re talking about a big rattler?”

  She nodded.

  “That’s Big John,” Pappy said. “He’s legendary around these parts. Moved in here about ten years ago. He’d bite ya as soon as look at ya. If he left you alone, he must be in a rare good mood.”

  “I thought snakes always left people alone as long as they weren’t feeling threatened,” Dymphna said, moving closer to Pappy.

  “Mostly, that’s true. But not Big John. You know that expression ‘mean as a snake’? That was coined for Big John.”

  Dymphna looked panicked as she glanced around at the ground. She wasn’t eager to run into Big John again.

  “He won’t be out now,” Pappy said. “It’s too hot. Snakes are very particular about the weather. Too cold or too hot, they disappear.”

  “That’s good to know,” Dymphna said, grateful that Big John had spared her earlier.

  “Just be mindful. He’s as ornery as they come.”

  As they approached the boardwalk, Powderkeg came out of his shop. “Where have you been, Pappy? I’ve been looking all over town for you.”

  “Looking all over town?” Pappy asked. “How long did that take? Ten minutes?”

  Dymphna left Pappy with Powderkeg. She headed up to her farm.

  “I don’t think the dry ice would have worked anyway,” Dymphna heard Powderkeg say to Pappy. “Unless you put it actually in the engine compartment.”

  “Well, it doesn’t matter now,” Pappy said. “The engine is shot.”

  Dymphna was halfway up the hill when she remembered why she’d come into town in the first place: She wanted to ask Professor Johnson if Thud could come to the farm with her. She knew the request was incredibly presumptuous—and she still wasn’t sure what she was going to say. Professor Johnson was probably not going to be in a very receptive mood after the dry ice debacle, but he did seem concerned for her safety. She stood in front of the bar, trying to find her courage. Realizing she was never going to find it, she pushed through the double saloon doors. Thud was asleep just inside the entrance, snoring softly. Professor Johnson was behind the bar, head in his hands—the very picture of dejection. She started backing out the door, but Thud decided to rouse himself and bark.

  You are one selective watchdog!

  The professor looked up. “That fan and dry ice would have worked. And now the bus is ruined.”

  “That isn’t your fault!”

  “It doesn’t matter whose fault it is. What are we going to do now? We need a way to get supplies in here.”

  “We’ll think about that tomorrow,” Dymphna said.

  Did I just quote Gone with the Wind?

  “We’re going to be just as screwed tomorrow,” Professor Johnson said gloomily.

  Dymphna stood awkwardly in the middle of the saloon. She wasn’t quite ready to plunge into her bold request. She looked around the place. It was spare but rather beautiful.

  “Do you have a name for this place yet?”

  “No, not really. I hadn’t given it any thought. Have you named your farm?”

  “No,” Dymphna said, coming up to the bar. “But I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll name my farm right now if you name your saloon.”

  Professor Johnson shrugged. “All right, you first.”

  “OK. Let me think . . . how about the Fat Farm?”

  Did Professor Johnson just smile?

  “OK,” she said. “Your turn.”

  The saloon doors suddenly swung open and Powderkeg entered. “Hi, barkeep,” he said. “What’ve you got?”

  “You heard Pappy at the town meeting. I don’t have any alcohol.”

  “But I heard a rumor that a certain aunt of yours dropped off a little inventory. In which case, I’ll take a scotch. Neat.”

  “I don’t have a liquor license!” the professor said, getting out the bottle of scotch and serving the one drink he knew how to pour. “She wasn’t supposed to tell anyone!”

  Powderkeg downed the drink and slammed the glass on the bar. “She didn’t,” he said. “Lucky guess. Gotta be quick around an old boozehound like me, Professor.”

  Powderkeg stepped over Thud and started out. Before he left, he turned around. “Tell you what. I’m making a new sign for Old Bertha in exchange for room and board. I’ll cut you the same deal. I’ll make you a sign for this place in exchange for a scotch every now and then.”

  “OK,” Professor Johnson said.

  “But he doesn’t have a name for it yet,” Dymphna
said.

  “Yes, I do.”

  Something in his tone made Thud sit up.

  “I’m going to call it the Boozehound,” he said.

  Powderkeg patted Thud on the head. He roared his approval as he headed back to his shop.

  “I like it,” Dymphna said.

  “So, now both of our establishments are officially christened,” he said.

  “Yes.”

  There was a strained silence between them. Dymphna knew she wouldn’t leave until she had said what she came to say, but she couldn’t quite get the words out.

  “Would you like a drink?” Professor Johnson asked, waving the scotch bottle in front of her.

  I’m going to have to ask him or drink scotch.

  “No, thank you. I actually came in to ask a favor of you.”

  The professor put the bottle back on the bar. He looked at her over the rim of his glasses.

  Dymphna took a deep breath. “I was really scared last night,” she admitted. “When those two guys went splashing across the creek. I don’t want to sleep in the barn again tonight and I will if I have to, but . . . I . . . well, it was really great having Thud around . . . so . . . I was wondering if maybe . . .”

  “I was actually hoping you’d ask. I thought you might take offense if I offered.”

  “Oh, I was so afraid to ask you,” she said. “It’s such an imposition!”

  “Not at all,” the professor said. “Just hang on one minute.” He disappeared into the back of the saloon.

  Dymphna called Thud to her side. She gave him a big kiss on the head. “You and I are going to be roommates.”

  Professor Johnson returned from the back room. Dymphna tried not to gasp. He was carrying his suitcase! His sleeping bag was tucked under his arm.

  “Pappy said you had two bedrooms,” Professor Johnson said. “Thud and I will take the smaller one.”

  CHAPTER 25

  Cleo walked down to the creek as the sun started to sink behind the west end of town. She knelt down and plunged her arms into the icy water and sighed. Her hands were out of the habit of working and the hours spent dicing, chopping, and whisking had taken a toll. The cool water relaxed her aching fingers. She sat back, running her dripping fingers through her hair. Stretching her fingers, she held them up and studied them in the remaining sunlight. She hardly recognized them—in two weeks, they were already raw and red. Of course, her short, stubby nails didn’t help matters. But there was no way to work in a kitchen with the talons she used to wear. The only familiar feature was the thin gold ring she wore midway up her index finger on her left hand. She’d taken it off during the day; while in Paris at Le Cordon Bleu, she’d found it impossible to work wearing any jewelry but tiny stud earrings. Anything that could conduct heat or catch on something spent the day in her jewelry case. Apparently the habit had stuck. She’d almost decided to put the ring away for the duration of her sentence in Fat Chance, but elected to wear it when she wasn’t in the kitchen. It reminded her of who she was outside of the town.

  She looked across the creek at a small stand of trees. She could see these trees from her back window in the café. During the day, a small, almost imperceptible sparkle would flash from out of the grove from time to time. She might not have noticed it at all if she hadn’t put her cutting board and knives right near the window—it had the best light for working. But every once in a while, she would notice a tiny glimmer out of the corner of her eye, and by the time she looked up, it was always gone. The shadows of dusk were marching across the hills. Cleo almost decided she should wait until morning to investigate, but changed her mind.

  What else have I got to do?

  Balancing on stones—Thank you, Daddy, for the ballet lessons, she thought—she crossed the creek. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for. The stand of trees appeared taller and more ominous as the darkening sky advanced. Losing her nerve to actually enter the grove, she walked around the perimeter instead.

  Standing off by itself, on a small rise, sat a tree unlike the others. She recognized it almost at once. Walking over to it, she put out her hand and touched the base. She smiled.

  Nice try, Daddy.

  This tree was going to make all the difference! Should she tell the others or keep it to herself? She didn’t know. What she did know was why the outlaw bowlers were coming into town.

  She headed back across the creek as Fat Chance wrapped itself in night.

  CHAPTER 26

  “You didn’t have to make dinner,” Professor Johnson said. “If I’m going to live here, I don’t expect to be treated like a guest.”

  How am I supposed to treat you? Like family? Like a roommate? Are you living here? Dymphna’s thoughts were racing.

  She was impressed that Cutthroat had made sure to stock her larder, but he seemed to have missed the fact that she was a vegetarian. Or, as Erinn always said, a ‘vegaquarian,’ since she ate fish. Dymphna put a plate of corned beef hash from her larder and eggs from the henhouse in front of Professor Johnson and a plate of eggs for herself on the table.

  Professor Johnson forgot to bring dog food, so Dymphna opened another can of hash. Thud seemed to sense that he was going to be fed. His whole body tensed.

  “Don’t just give him his dinner,” Professor Johnson said in regard to Thud, who was on high alert and wagging his tail furiously. “He has to sit and stay seated while you put the food on the floor. Then you signal that he should eat.”

  Dymphna looked hesitant.

  “Do you want me to do it?” Professor Johnson asked.

  Dymphna was looking forward to feeding Thud—he seemed so excited—but she clearly was going to bungle up the professor’s elaborate dog-feeding ritual, so she handed over the plate. The professor stood up and Thud now gave him his undivided attention. The dog’s tail snapped back and forth like a whip.

  “Sit,” Professor Johnson said.

  The dog sat. Then he lay down. Then he sat back up. He cocked his head to one side, then whimpered.

  Dymphna tried not to laugh. Professor Johnson was extremely serious about this.

  What are the odds of that?

  When Thud was sitting quietly, Professor Johnson put the plate on the floor. The dog stood up, but the professor was not finished. “Stay,” he said, putting his palm out emphatically.

  Thud stared at the food. His whole body quivered, but he put his butt back on the floor.

  “Good dog!” the professor said.

  Thud slammed his nose into the plate and started devouring the hash at warp speed.

  Professor Johnson sat back down. He took a bite of hash and eggs. Dymphna watched him. That old saying that people and their dogs resembled one another over time was overruled by the maxim “the exception makes the rule.” The professor was restrained while Thud was spontaneous, thoughtful while Thud was impulsive, brilliant while Thud was—

  Well, that’s just unkind.

  Thud, having inhaled his food, turned to Professor Johnson, who looked at the dog over his glasses. “You know better than to beg.”

  Thud slunk into the living room.

  “He’s embarrassed I reprimanded him in front of you. He’s a very sensitive dog.”

  “I guess so!” Dymphna said, feeling bad. She didn’t want Thud to have hard feelings. He just got here!

  “I still have to find a way to get to Spoonerville,” Professor Johnson said. “I need to get some real dog food.”

  “We could walk. I mean—four miles—it could take a little over an hour each way, but we could do it. Maybe we could shop for everybody—borrow Jerry Lee from Pappy to haul it all back.”

  “I don’t want to deal with Pappy right now, thank you very much.”

  “Tomorrow is another day,” Dymphna said.

  Why is Fat Chance bringing out the Scarlett O’Hara quotes?

  Professor Johnson got up and picked up his plate. Dymphna was surprised that he picked up hers, too. He took all the dishes over to the sink directly behind her. She forc
ed herself to stay at the table. After all, he had said he didn’t want to be treated like a guest. She felt awkward sitting with her back to him, but realized since he was standing at the sink, if she turned around his back would be to her. She got up and went to the little refrigerator.

  “I’m going to have some iced tea,” she said. “I brewed it this morning. Do you want any?”

  “No, thanks,” he said as he continued to wash the dishes.

  She noticed how neatly he had rolled his cuffs. She always just pushed her sleeves up past the elbows and of course they never stayed up. The hot water in the sink steamed the professor’s glasses. He dried his soapy hands on his jeans, then took off his glasses. He picked up his shirttail and wiped off the lenses, exposing his washboard abs again. Dymphna grabbed a glass and focused on pouring her tea.

  She wasn’t sure she should be sharing a house with a six-pack like that.

  Professor Johnson rubbed his fist over the steam that had clouded the window over the sink. Although Dymphna’s house technically had a porch, a gigantic hole in the roof over the porch offered a view of the sky. The moon looked smudged behind a blanket of clouds.

  “If the bowlers only come out when the moon is bright, you should be pretty safe tonight,” Professor Johnson said.

  “That’s good.” Dymphna hoisted herself up on the counter. She’d always wanted to sit on a kitchen counter but never had. Life in Fat Chance made all the old rules seem silly. What could it hurt?

  “To tell you the truth,” she continued, “I wasn’t really worried, now that Thu . . . you and Thud are here.”

  Professor Johnson rinsed the last dish and turned off the faucets. “I didn’t come up here to take advantage of your hospitality.”

  “I know.”

  “So, we’re in agreement?”

  “Certainly!” Dymphna said. “About what?”

  “That we don’t need to compound an already awkward situation by adding a sexual element to our relationship.”

  “Of course,” she said, sipping her tea.

  She could lie to him, but she couldn’t lie to herself. He was a strange one, but Professor Johnson was not without his . . . attributes.