“I’ll go but I’m not taking my car and I’m not riding with Burt.” Jarred needed a longer Burt-break than most.
“No problem.” Manny reassured. “You can ride with Lester and George. Just Lester and George this time--no Eric or John or that Bobby.”
Jarred asked straight out, “Is Bobby a man or a woman?”
Manny shrugged his shoulders and responded as best he could with, “One of Broken Arrow’s mysteries I guess.”
Since the trip was going to be a greater distance and they were possibly going to stay the night, the women decided to stay home. Lester drove with George past the office to Jarred’s trailer with his windows up. That way if John saw them and called out, they could pretend they didn’t hear him. Manny placed a small transistor radio in his jacket pocket and pushed the tiny earphone into his left ear before picking up Burt. The two trucks left out of Broken Arrow and headed north to Nolan’s ranch.
Burt started right in and Manny discretely clicked on the radio in his pocket. Manny grinned from within. Manny had the Mexican music of home in one ear and the ramblings of Burt in the other. Burt talked and was pleased he had such a quiet and attentive audience. Both men were happy.
“We’re taking a swim,” Jose announced to Scout and discreetly winked out of Charlie’s view. She gave him the thumbs up and was off to wash the dishes. “No peeking,” he added as they headed down to the water. She noticed that Charlie was carrying at least one fishing pole.
“I’ll try to resist the urge.” Again, that mentality raised its pubescent head.
The sun began to melt the chill in the air and Scout decided to take advantage of the warmth along with her time alone. She retrieved Jose’s tee shirt from the wagon, walked down to the cluster of boulders by the edge of the lake and gratefully pulled off the long johns. Over and over she dunked them in the cold lake water and squeezed until they were as clean as they were going to get without the benefit of soap. She hung them on the sunny side of the tree then sat back to soak up the sun herself. Scout was thoroughly enjoying the in-the-moment ambiance, the basking in the sun half-naked and the absence of worry. She found solace for both spirit and soul, something that she unconsciously needed for a very long time.
“I’m hungry, Manny. How much longer are we going to go till we stop for a bite to eat?” Burt was getting tired and a bit grumpy from the long ride.
Manny sped up to Lester’s truck and honked for him to pull over.
“Goodness! Is George drinking beer in your truck?” Burt shouted over while staring at George through the windshield.
“It’s soda.”
“He’s not driving, Burt, what do you care if he’s having a beer!” Jarred’s patience with Burt was still at a minimum.
“We can’t have—“ Burt stopped short. He saw the embers still burning in Jarred’s eyes from their last outing.
They all agreed to wait the added hour until they got to Grada just outside and before Nolan’s ranch. Grada was a tiny and old town at the foot of the mountains. Nothing had changed much in the last century and the town’s ambiance made for a much desired and often used movie set. The obscure town was off the beaten path, functioned at a slow pace, no crime to speak of and the townspeople liked and wanted it to stay that way. Any bid to widen or improve the road leading to Grada met heated opposition. Few in residence were familiar with the current celebrities gracing their little town and even less were impressed or concerned. Pedro, the saloon owner, was impressed--but not by the star-studded visitors, it was the increase in business that impressed Pedro. The film companies added to the town’s coffers. Keeping things status quo worked well for all concerned.
The old saloon served food and Manny promised Burt that the food was good. Lester gave Burt some Lifesavers to hold him over until they reached Grada. With the earphone discretely pushed back into his left ear, Manny pulled out onto the road and continued on his way. George popped open another beer, Jarred complained about Burt and Lester turned on a country western station and attempted to keep up with Manny.
“Hey, I want my tee shirt back.” Jose tapped Scout’s foot.
She sat up pulling the tee shirt between her legs as she rose. “Is Charlie smelling sweet?”
“You asked for a dip in the lake not a miracle.”
“That’s mean, Jose.”
“Charlie swam in the lake, not his clothes.” Jose cocked his head and grinned.
“So those ripe items simmered in the sun.”
“Yep.”
“Can I offer to wash his clothes without offending him, you think? I just washed his long johns.”
“So Charlie can sit at the campground in the buff while he waits for his clothes to dry?”
“I don’t mind.”
“I don’t know, locals have been coming here forever and it’s not a place Charlie’s going to run around in his birthday suit.”
She had to think about the clothing arrangement for a minute. “I think I can wash most of the clothes and still have everybody covered.”
Jose left to convince Charlie that Scout was in a washing mood and he should take advantage of it then returned with Charlie’s clothes dangling from his extended arm.
“Oh man!” One whiff was enough. Scout immediately dunked the whole bunch right into the water. “I should wash those coveralls Charlie gave you too, don’t you think?”
“They’re dusty dirty; they’re not bad.” Jose sat down on the boulder where Scout had been sunning.
“I’ll rub some pine into the clothes while they dry--natural cologne.”
“Do you remember Hai Karate?” Jose asked, not sure why that came to mind.
Scout thought for a second.
“The men’s cologne, Hai Karate, remember?” Jose’s eyebrows lifted as if he were about to laugh.
“Oh, like Jade East.” The commercial came to mind immediately. “Yeah, now I remember. Some guy fighting off women, karate chopping women who couldn’t resist him cuz he was wearin’ Hai Karate!” She shook her head. “What made you think of that?”
“I don’t know,” Jose said with a smile then added, “Lamb chop sideburns?”
Scout started smiling too as she remembered that ever so popular facial hair from days gone by.
“White belt and matching shoes with a polyester suit?”
“Oh gawd, yes, I remember men wearing those,” Scout laughed. “Polyester pant suits with those big zipper flaps and no belt loops.”
“Zodiac pendant on a chain with an open shirt.”
“And a hairy chest.” Scout grimaced and asked, “Did you wear that?”
Jose smiled.
Then Scout added her own fashion recollection. “Leg warmers? Do you remember leg warmers?”
“What were leg warmers?” Jose paused on that one.
“A fashion statement, I guess.”
“Saying what?”
“I don’t know. I guess ‘I’m a dancer,’ you know, sort of like the running suits and sweat bands on people who never walked a block much less ran.”
“Remember how the bars were filled with smoke, it lingered at waist level? Fern bars. Remember fern bars?”
“Yeah, I remember fern bars. I always wondered how those ferns lived in a constant cloud of cigarette smoke and no sunlight. I couldn’t keep one alive at home yet those lung-choker bars had these beautiful full dark-green ferns.” Then Scout asked, “What is making you think of this stuff? Are you pining for a better time?”
“I don’t know.” Jose laughed aloud and continued to bring up icons of the 70’s.
Charlie kept busy with his mules, lifting their hooves, scraping and checking their condition. The day carried on at a leisurely pace with Charlie and Jose fishing for dinner in the late afternoon. Scout swam and lounged in the sun as she waited for the newly washed clothes to dry.
Manny pulled up to the front of the “Grada Saloo,” the “n” dropped off years ago and was never replaced. T
he large heavy wood doors still had the old wavy glass and original metal doorplates and knobs. The lock was a slide lock; the main security was Pedro sleeping in the back with a shotgun at close range. Pedro stuck to serving the drinks since he had an adverse reaction to customers leaving food on their plate when he went to the trouble and effort to prepare it. His girlfriend, and/or whoever might be there to help out, cooked and served the food.
While the others took a seat and checked out the menu, Manny approached Pedro to say hello and explain their presence in Grada. Manny and Pedro didn’t see each other very often but each considered the other a good friend. After describing both Jose and Scout, Pedro was certain neither had been in Grada. “Not too many come through here; I’d a remembered.” So, they talked about general goings-on at Grada. Pedro happily informed Manny that some “star lady” bought the place outside of town. Manny figured that probably wasn’t good news.
“What’d she buy?”
“Broken down place on forty acres.” The corners of Pedro’s mouth turned up suddenly.
“Town not happy about it?” Manny asked, knowing the town didn’t like change yet perplexed by Pedro’s smile.
“It was my broken down place on forty acres. She ain’t bringin’ in a bunch of Hollywood types or makin’ a palace outta the place. Nobody minds too much, not if they know what’s good for em; she’s my retirement fund.” Pedro and Manny grinned to a laugh.
Manny asked Pedro if he had seen or maybe even heard, describing the screeching sound of its engine, the blue and white International Scout in or near town.
“Damn loud whining piece a junk?”
“Yeah, that’s it, if it was blue and white. That’s her truck,” Manny said excited. “Did you see it or who was in it?”
“Some smartass kid was in it. He came in, wanted a beer. He wasn’t twenty-one. Bad attitude.” Pedro looked past Manny. Burt and Jarred were listening to the conversation and were now on their way to join in.
“What did the kid look like?” asked Jarred before Burt had a chance to speak.
“A punk,” Pedro answered with obvious disdain for the kid.
“What kind of punk? What did the punk look like?” Burt insisted.
“Dark hair, short. Short hair. I don’t know. I told him to get out.”
“How do you know he was driving the blue Scout?” pushed Jarred.
“I heard the piece of junk pull up and I took a look.”
Manny started to explain their theories but was cut short by Jarred.
“Was anyone else in the Scout with him?”
“No, not that I saw, just the pissed-off punk.”
Manny continued, “The two friends that are missing that I told you about, the blue and white International making all the noise belongs to one of them. It was found abandoned at Tom Nolan’s ranch. Woody had it towed back to Broken Arrow. Like I said, that’s why we’re up here, to look around, ask around, see what we can find.”
“We should call Woody.” Burt scanned the saloon for a telephone.
“What is he going to do, Burt. Woody can’t do anything from back in Pista,” Jarred retorted.
“Maybe the punk stole the vehicle while Jose and Scout were hiking and maybe they are just lost. Woody could go look at the lake. We need to cover ground, that’s all.” It made sense but there wasn’t much Burt could say, at this point, that would not irritate or annoy Jarred.
“What do you think, Manny?” Burt wanted Manny to agree with him.
“I think we should get a bite to eat and head up to Nolan’s ranch and look around. I’ll call Tom again.” He turned to Pedro.” Can I use your phone?”
“Be my guest.” He reached for the phone and set it on the bar for Manny.
“I still want to grab a bite to eat.” Jarred looked back at George sitting at the table with Lester and added, “And I know they do.” He quickly walked back to the table with Burt annoyingly at his heels.
Tom Nolan was out but his wife, Sarah, welcomed Manny and the others to come out to the ranch to look around, and, to stay as long as they needed. Sarah wasn’t a descendant of generations of ranchers like Tom. Life as a rancher’s wife was lonely for Sarah, but she fell in love and it was now her life. Tom--always involved in one project or the other--didn’t share Sarah’s desire or need for company, didn’t much understand it either.
Sarah had a way of keeping people on the phone longer than the conversation called for and Manny obliged, listening to her talk about her old dog with its inevitable and dooming aches and pains. While he compassionately listened to Sarah express her fear that Jake’s time was winding down, into the saloon walked a striking blonde woman in the mid-time of life. She had Manny’s attention then his head whipped around towards Pedro. Pedro confirmed with a nod that she was indeed the new resident, the Hollywood woman making a new life for herself in the obscure town of Grada, New Mexico. Half listening to Sarah, Manny mouthed, “What’s her name?”
“Afternoon Kim, everything all right?” Pedro yelled across the bar, answering Manny’s question and greeting his retirement fund at the same time.
She approached the bar, swished her hair to one side as she tilted towards Pedro and asked, “Pedro, do you think that old truck in the barn will run?”
Pedro was looking at Manny; she turned to look at Manny also, mostly to see what Pedro was looking at so intently. Pedro was amused by the spark in Manny’s eyes.
“The Willys?” Pedro switched his focus back to Kim.
Manny could only politely feign interest in Sarah’s chatter; he was mesmerized by the blonde standing before him.
“Oh Pedro, I don’t know the brand. It’s the gray old truck in the barn. Do you need to come out to see it?”
“That’s the Willys,” Pedro recalled.
“It did come with the house, property, right?” She straightened her head and looked him right in the eyes. She wanted the truck.
“It’s yours and I think it runs. Maybe it needs some work, but not much.”
“You eating, Manny?” Burt shouted from the table.
Manny shook his head yes and told Sarah he would see her shortly then set the receiver back in place. He slid the phone across the bar to Pedro while keeping his eyes glued on Kim. The others had already given their order to JoJo, the son of Joe and Pedro’s right hand man for the moment. He was Joe’s Joe and hence became known as JoJo, a name he wasn’t fond of, particularly as a teenager but adjusted since no one was going to quit calling him JoJo anyway--why fight it; the town still called Gordo “Gimpy” from a leg injury that occurred and was cured almost fifteen years ago. Manny returned to the table and picked up a menu. He had an excuse to pass Kim for a closer look if he went to the kitchen to give JoJo his order himself, so that’s what he did.
“Manny!” Pedro shouted towards the kitchen. Manny stepped out and Pedro continued, “You’re good with trucks, you think you could go take a look at the old truck in my barn, I mean in her barn, Kim’s barn?” He paused. “Kim’s truck, it’s a Willys.”
Manny quickly blurted out his order and headed for the bar where Pedro formally introduced him to Kim. Manny gently accepted her extended hand. Her soft pale hand fit into his large dark rough hand like pocket change.
Kim described the truck while Pedro and Manny listened, amused. Manny would have been pleased to hear her describe the Willys a few more times just so he could watch her amber tinted lips delicately move as she spoke.
“I can look at it.” Manny acted nonchalant but was more than delighted at the opportunity to spend time with the pretty woman.
“Yeah, he can fix whatever is wrong with it. Manny’s good for something.’”
“I wouldn’t be able to look at it this afternoon. I’m here with my friends; we have plans. But, I could probably take a look tomorrow if you’re going to be around.”
“Yes. Wonderful.” She gave Manny her telephone number and then struggled with directions on how to ge
t to her new home. Pedro told her not to worry about it; he would direct him.
“It was nice meeting you, Manny. Manny, right?” She reached her hand out again.
Manny nodded and accepted the opportunity to touch her hand once more. She smiled and glided through the bar to the front door like a vision, at least to Manny.
“You never got a woman’s number that easy. You owe me one, you sonofabitch. And, don’t scare her off. I need my retirement money.” Pedro spoke in jest and got a good laugh from Manny’s instant infatuation. He knew far more about the inner workings of the Willy’s than Manny did, but he was a friend.
They finished lunch and headed off for Nolan’s ranch, Manny knowing full well that he was taking advantage of Sarah’s invitation to stay the night--whether the others were or not. Manny’s mind was preoccupied with Kim; he even asked Burt what he knew about Willys trucks and left the earphone in his pocket. No matter what his companions chose to do, Manny was staying on in Grada on his own and he also knew that having Burt ride back in Lester’s truck with Jarred was going to take a bit of convincing. He would make it his mission to keep Burt under verbal control for the remainder of the day.
Charlie took in the scent of his newly washed clothes. “These smell nice, Scout. What’d ya do?”
“It’s cedar and pine. I rubbed cedar and pine into them.” The clothes smelled nice but were quite stiff after drying. “Sorry, no fabric softener.” She was happy the semi-clean, cedar and pine scented clothes pleased Charlie.
Jose fried the fish covered with cornmeal he found hidden in Charlie’s stash, adding a touch of salt and pepper. He poured some of Charlie’s mystery food into a pot to heat and the three sat around the fire. All three loved the quick cuisine and Jose patted himself with culinary pride. They shared dinner and conversation like longtime friends. The subjects were as hodgepodge as the eatables.
Come nightfall Charlie entertained with stories of his adventures as a clown. The stories were so “Charlie”--direct and to the point, including his short romance with a she-clown. They planned to make it an early night and rearranged the wagon so that all three could fit as comfortable as possible for a good night’s rest. They arranged the blankets and makeshift pillows then curled up for the night. Charlie had no problem falling into a deep slumber shortly after his head hit what sufficed as a pillow but soon began mumbling in his sleep. He seemed to wrestle with himself, grunting indistinguishable words.
“Charlie. Charlie!” Jose reached over and gently shook Charlie’s shoulder. “You okay?” Charlie was still for a moment then his eyes popped open as though they were spring loaded.
“You okay?” Jose asked again.
“Yeah, yeah. Let me sleep, Jose. Geezus.” Charlie turned his back towards Jose and within seconds began a guttural resonating snore.
“Let you sleep?” Scout laughed. They both lie in place, listening to Charlie; sleep seemed out of the question. Charlie went back to mumbling with an audible full-fledged word shouted out here and there. Scout entertained herself trying to make out the content of his brief shouts.
“You think he’s having nightmares?” Scout asked in a low voice.
“Maybe he’s dreaming of his old flame, Giggles.”
Though previously looking forward to an early night’s sleep, they were both wide-awake, not tired enough for sleep to obliterate Charlie’s tortured serenade. Scout initiated conversation with her concern that Pepper might think she abandoned him. Jose again reassured her that he was more than likely spoiled rotten by those at the campground and probably the office mascot by now. He started a new topic.
“So tell me about Jarred’s “interesting” story,” Jose asked, emphasizing his sarcasm.
“Do you think we’ll wake Charlie talking in here?”
Jose shouted, “Hey Charlie! We keeping you awake with our talking?”
Charlie’s disorderly grunts and groans didn’t skip a beat.
“I’m waiting. Tell me about Jarred’s story.” Jose repositioned his pillow and listened while Scout talked about Jarred. She was careful not to disclose what he had shared in confidence. Charlie’s mumbles increased to spurts of violent shouts.
“Charlie. Hey Charlie!” Jose yelled in effort to wake him. “He didn’t have a nightcap, maybe that’s the problem.” He called out even louder, “Charlie!”
“You want to go out by the fire?” Scout asked. “I’m wide awake now.” She wasn’t convinced that waking Charlie again was such a good idea.
They exited the wagon as if it were the start of a new day. Jose was able to spark the tiny glowing embers back into a campfire. He added twigs and wood and with blankets wrapped around them, they were very comfortable.
“So you find Jarred fascinating?” Jose’s tone made it clear that he didn’t; he found Jarred a bit pompous for his taste.
“I find most of the people at Broken Arrow fascinating.” She placed the blanket over her head and tucked it under her chin.
“Marianne?” He ribbed.
“Marianne? Yeah, even Marianne to a small degree. I find how she effects people interesting.”
Jose started barking like an angry Chihuahua, an apt impersonation of Marianne.
“Have you seen her husband?”
Scout softly snickered, knowing from Jose’s tone the type of description that was to follow.
“Remember the big dumb guy in Of Mice and Men?”
Scout held back a laugh through a huge smile.
“I’m not kidding but Orland doesn’t have as much personality.”
“Orland? His name is Orland?” She caught her breath, “Is he big, tall?”
“A big guy.”
The visual of a large lumbering dim-witted man mated to the small neurotic Marianne fueled Scout’s laughter.
“He drives her pink Rambler with the Mary Kay sticker on the back window,” Jose said with disgust.
Scout began to rock back and forth in an effort to control a raucous outburst of laughter in the quiet of night.
“He drives it more than her. You haven’t seen him drop her off? He looks like a zombie driving that pink thing.” Jose enjoyed, more than he would have imagined previously, making Scout laugh. In fact, he loved it, so he kept on. “He hit Burt with the Rambler once.”
“Oh no!” Scout kept on laughing.
“Orland just bumped him; Burt wasn’t hurt but we had to hear about it for months. Orland has tunnel vision when he drives, really scary, shouldn’t even be allowed on the road. Check out the dents on that pink hunk of metal when you see it.” Jose paused to watch Scout. “Wait till you see their kid!”
She began snorting between laughs, holding her stomach and telling Jose to stop.
Jose loved it, loved how he could entertain Scout in a way that made her so giddy with her defenses down. He told her about the delinquent and reveled in her reaction. Jose was a one-man show. He continued with stories of Mr. Chitwell, Eric and of others in town that she hadn’t met yet. Scout hardly got a break from laughing. He told stories about Lila’s goat, how one time she jumped or fell into the empty pool, “…she butted everybody trying to get her out of the pool. It was like watching a pinball game…” and Scout laughed without restraint.
Jose excused himself. She thought nature called but he came back with Charlie’s rye, held it up, “Want some hooch?”
“No thanks.”
“It’s not bad, taste.” He held the bottle up to her lips so she could take a sip.
“Ehk!” Scout recoiled from the harsh taste.
“It’s not bad; a few swallows and you get used to it. You might even like it.” Jose took another drink. “So how about some Arkansas wedding cake mix?”
“Of course, I could eat cake mix right out of the box. Did you really find cake mix in there?”
“He’s got some stewed chaparral cock in one of his jars.” Jose rattled off titles and phrases knowing full well she had no idea what he was actually tal
king about. Scout remained focused on the supposed cake mix. He told more stories while Scout lie on her back listening and laughing, enjoying the jovial and animated Jose.
“I have a sensual Burt and Bella story for you.”
“Oh no! Absolutely not!”
Scout took reluctant bitter tastes of the fermented liquid and they talked, they joked and Scout laughed harder than she had in years. They were not only happy and playful, but they were grateful for each other’s companionship. Each had spent the past years struggling with issues that tormented and which had no satisfactory resolve. Happy or joyous moments had been short lived and that, unfortunately, became the norm. This time, a life-threatening incident brought about unforeseen friendship and a cherished time-out in their lives. This was a respite they both could appreciate. A playful kiss by Jose’s imitation of Burt to the stand-in Bella caused them both to pause, but only for a second. It was as natural and as easy as reaching for a blanket in the cold; Scout closed her eyes and pulled Jose’s mouth to hers, suckling his tongue until lightheaded and open. They touched and pulled. Clenched and drew their bodies as close as form allowed. Tasting and savoring while absorbed in passion, Jose and Scout were intoxicated by the escape. Ultimately consumed, they lie beneath the star-filled sky surrounded by a different kind of quiet.
Charlie shouted obscenities in his sleep from the wagon and once again Scout and Jose were animated and laughing.
Sarah greeted Manny like a beloved relative. She had already made sandwiches for the visitors and had the coffee maker ready to go. She happily led them into the kitchen.
“We already ate, Sarah,” Manny informed after introductions.
“Please sit down and have a cup of coffee with me.” Sarah wanted company.
Jarred politely interrupted with their need to search the area while they still had light.
“Oh yes, yes. I’m sorry. You must be terribly worried about your friends. What do you think happened to them? Why were they up here?”
“We don’t know,” George spoke up. “They may not been anywhere near here. We think the International was stolen and then dumped here. We want to see if we can find any clues in the area where Tom found the vehicle.” He sounded very official, very sheriff-like and not going for the laugh which was so typical of George. Burt was uncharacteristically quiet. Where he would normally barge right in and take over most conversations, Burt sat quiet.
“Scout drove her truck to the lake, or to find the lake---“ Manny started but was interrupted by Sarah.
“What lake? Where is there a lake?”
“Yeah, where is the lake?” Jarred contributed his sarcasm as he glanced at Burt who paid no attention.
“There’s a lake outside of Pista. Not a well-known lake, and that’s what makes it nice, pristine…”
George and Lester looked at each other; pristine was not a word they expected out of Manny’s mouth and so articulated, with effort.
Manny continued to tell Sarah of how Scout never came back and how Jose went for a bike ride and never returned either. Sarah responded with the same look of suspicion Marianne so aptly displayed upon news of the missing duo.
“Yep, a few people think that, same thing you’re thinking Sarah, but if you knew them, well, it’s not that, not in the cards; they don’t like each other much. Jose wouldn’t take off for days without letting Lila know anyway. He wouldn’t worry Lila like that; he’s like a son to her. Something’s wrong, we just ain’t sure what.” Lester looked over at Burt when he finished, anticipating Burt would speak up but he neither interrupted nor contributed to Lester’s explanation. Sarah also looked at Burt. He smiled back at Sarah, still not responding to Lester, shuffled his feet and looked away. Ever-observant Jarred rolled his eyes and shook his head. He recognized that old Burt was smitten with their host.
“Well, men, Tom found the car at the north part of the property. There is that little road by the old windmill, if you follow that and just past the windmill, that’s where Tom and Rick found it.”
“I know where that is.” Manny had helped Tom with the fences and he was familiar with the layout of the ranch.
“You know, those old windmills are worth something now.” Sarah seemed to be delaying their search; she just wanted company for a while longer. “Are you men going to stay for dinner? You are welcome to stay over, you know that.”
In a very calm voice Burt responded, “Yes, I’ve heard that the old windmills are a collector’s item now, quite valuable,” then said no more.
“Sarah, we will probably take you up on your offer if it’s not too much trouble for you,” Manny said as he headed for the door to get the search started.
Sarah couldn’t have been given better news--company for hours and maybe another day!
“Any word on Jose or Scout?” Mr. Chitwell asked from his vinyl chair as Lila entered the office.
“No word yet but I’m sure we will hear something soon. We have a Broken Arrow posse up there now, Mr. Chitwell,” Lila responded adding a sympathetic smile. She was aware of his fondness for Jose. Mr. Chitwell wasn’t big on toothy grins but Jose had a way of getting them out of him. “Manny and a few others drove up to Tom Nolan’s ranch to see what they can find. I’m on my way to give Tom a call and see how things are going up there.” She hurried past Mr. Chitwell--who was stationed as usual by the public telephone--to use the private office phone.
“Lila!” Sarah was elated, two phone calls in one day; this was a good day. She responded to Lila’s inquiries then asked question after question about Lila’s life, the campground and anything else she could think of to keep Lila on the telephone. Lila understood Sarah’s situation and conversed longer than she initially intended or wanted.
When the men came back, they were none the wiser on the mystery of Jose and Scout. Sarah was just relieved that they came back. She went about fixing the men dinner and talking… and talking, some listening and more talking--just enjoying the company. Manny’s silent objective was to get back to Grada first thing in the morning, without Burt. After dinner, Jarred went for a walk by himself. Lester and George plucked a movie from the voluminous selection stacked next to a big-screen TV. They settled into the overstuffed chairs with popcorn and beer. Manny and Sarah talked at the kitchen table with their audience of one. Soon Jarred passed through the kitchen. The distinctive scent indicated his smoking pleasure. “Goodnight everyone,” he said without stopping as he headed to bed.
The house was full with company, Sarah could only have been happier if they had decided to stay a few more days or promised to come back and do it again in the near future.
They agreed come morning, while enjoying Sarah’s hearty home cooked breakfast, that there was no need to go back up to the windmill or any other place on the ranch to look for clues. Manny’s agreement was blonde inspired. He anxiously informed the men that he was off to Grada for a day or two and that Burt would need to ride back to Pista with them, all the while displaying an attitude of obligation to a friend in need and avoiding eye contact with Jarred.
“Four can’t fit in the front of that truck, Manny,” Jarred proclaimed with clenched lips.
“One can ride in the back,” suggested George with a mouth full of scrambled eggs and a piece of toast in hand. Silence temporarily engulfed the kitchen. Sarah felt the tension, naïve to its origin.
“I’ll ride in the back.” Jarred preferred the windy, bumpy ride in the back to sitting for an extended amount of time in close quarters next to his former wayward guide. He blamed Burt for the damage to his Mercedes more than he blamed Manny.
“I have some blankets you can use to make yourself more comfortable and warm,” Sarah offered.
She was sorry to see them leave and stood between the trucks chatting as long as they would allow. Jarred wrapped himself in the blanket and stretched his legs out for the long ride. Sarah handed him a magazine, a woman’s magazine, “Here, since you don’t have anyone to talk to on your ride
home.” “Sex with a Younger Man?” was one of the featured articles. Jarred smiled to himself and thanked Sarah then waved goodbye. They were off. A few miles down the road Manny turned away from the others, off to Pedro’s old place and the mesmerizing woman with a truck he did not intend to fix in any hurry.
They heard the rustlings of Charlie.
“Quick, toss me the long johns.”
Charlie saw the entwined bodies and intentionally exaggerated his exit from the wagon to alert them of his presence.
“Let’s go fishin’,” Charlie yelled after a long yawn.
Jose inched his way away from Scout and asked, “You’ll come with us this time, right?”
“Wrong. I’m not good at fish killing. I see them flipping around for air and I am compelled to toss them back, can’t help myself. Buuuut, if you tell me where that cake mix is I’ll gladly pay you back on Tuesday.”
“Arkansas wedding cake is cornmeal. Come-on, come with us. You can look the other way when we catch one.” He succeeded.
On empty stomachs, the three were off on the fish hunt. Jose and Scout had a hard time keeping their minds off the night before but Charlie proved a good distraction. Jose asked Scout to hold his pole while he made a much-needed sprint into the woods. As she feared, as Murphy’s Law will continue to rule, in that short time she got a bite. She eagerly handed the pole back to Jose as he reappeared. “Oh no, no, no. You do this,” she said and turned away. The fish fought, bouncing and flipping at the end of the line. Jose reeled it in, unhooked the catch and handed it to Charlie for safe keeping in his old tattered creel.
“Aren’t you going to knock it out or something?” Scout asked as Charlie’s creel rumbled from the struggling fish.
“He’ll be dead in a few. You should be so lucky to go so easy, Scout, or would you prefer being clocked on the head first.” Charlie spoke his peace.
“Actually, I would.” They were enjoying the sport but she wasn’t and wouldn’t. “Well, you guys and the lucky fish continue on. I’m going to go for a hike, look around.” Scout stood up.
“Look around for what?” Charlie asked without taking his eyes off the line in the water.
“Nothing in particular. Maybe I’ll find some campers and we can barter fish for chocolate or something.” She walked off into the trees. Jose and Charlie barked junk food orders like two drunks at the drive-through as Scout disappeared into the woods.
A few hours passed and Jose and Charlie were back at the campsite. Jose had the fire ready and Charlie was fetching jars from the wagon. Playing host was depleting his stash but Charlie didn’t mind; he was thoroughly enjoying the company, something he didn’t expect since solitude had always been his preference. Jose called out for Scout several times but she didn’t respond.
“Go find her,” Charlie suggested, eager to eat.
Jose followed the path by the lake that led into the woods. The smells of the juniper and cedar were fragrant and calming. It felt as if his five senses had been fine tuned, acutely aware of the sounds, the smells and the feel of life around him. The sounds made by his body brushing against the foliage, the crack of the twigs beneath his feet, the sounds of the birds were all vibrant and distinct instead of background noise. He briefly thought about the night’s encounter and, for a daring change, allowed feelings to govern instead of analyzing, critically picking apart the pros, but mostly the cons, of such an encounter. It felt good, a good he wanted to trust.
Soon Charlie was calling out Jose’s name since he spotted Scout on her way back to the campsite. The three enjoyed another meal and lively conversations together, feeling unusually close in such a relatively short time. This was the intimacy of family, for all three. This was a feeling all three had lived many years without.
After the meal, Charlie tended to his four-legged family then returned only to bunch up his blanket to take a nap. Jose and Scout, still buzzing from the night before, took off for a swim. The yellowed long johns and tattered coveralls hung from an old gray, mostly dead, cedar tree that bent towards and over the water’s edge. Scout’s naked body slid over the rocks into the icy water without hesitation. Jose’s was less willing.
“Oh man!” He pulled his foot out of the water as if it had bitten him.
“You’ll get used to it. Quick, just jump in! You’ll warm up, I promise.” Scout waited, treading water just like she had done so many times with Lauren in the past. The icy water was welcoming, as were the memories. “Come on! You jumped in with Charlie; do I have to go get him?”
“I had a mission then.”
Jose finally pushed off the rock, stiff with his arms tucked close to his sides, and sunk below the water like a corpse dropped from a ship.
“I’m not warm,” Jose announced as his head rose out of the water.
“Keep moving,” she coaxed.
They dog-paddled, dove, tried to touch bottom. They submerged then shot out of the water playful and full of energy. They moved together with the same vigor, facetiously attributing their high stamina to some secret ingredient in one of Charlie’s sauces. They floated on their backs and talked, existing only in the moment. The fact that others were worrying about their whereabouts or that their time at the lake couldn’t last much longer was forgotten for the time being. They slipped back into their clothes that were warm from the sun and soaked up the water from their bodies. The day was theirs to do as they pleased and they planned to take full advantage of the luxury.
Lila rushed to meet Lester when she saw him pulling into Broken Arrow. He indicated that they were not successful with a shake of his head. Burt was back in form; he exited the truck, rattling off details of their trip and search, minus the attractiveness of Sarah. They all headed back to the office together.
“Manny is doing what in Grada?” Penny asked as she stood at the office door with Pepper by her side.
“He thinks he’s going to get lucky with a movie star,” George was happy to answer.
“And, he probably will, George. He probably will.” Lila took pleasure in Manny’s romantic aspirations and enthusiasm. “I’ll call Woody and let him know you’re back and what you found.”
“We didn’t find anything.” George emphasized his disappointment.
“We found out about the young man who had her truck,” Burt announced feeling a degree of accomplishment with their mission.
“I think Pedro called him a young punk asshole, Burt.” George corrected.
“That’s significant, George,” Lila interjected. “Tell me about the man who had her truck, for God sake.”
“It was a punk kid, teenager. An asshole according to Pedro,” George answered.
“He had dark hair and he was short, that’s what Pedro said,” Burt added.
“What else?”
“He wanted a beer and Pedro refused him and he was an asshole. He left in a screeching blue International Scout. That’s it, Lila. That’s all Pedro had to say.”
“I’ll let Woody know.” Lila walked into her private office alone.
While back in the comfort of the campground office, Martha poured coffee for the men as if they were heroes home from battling a wildfire. Burt took full advantage of her sentiments requesting sugar for his coffee and a donut. It was Jarred that was a bit battle worn from the wind-whipped ride in the back of the truck, though enlightened by Sarah’s reading material. He held onto his magazine and gulped down the coffee in silence. Burt rehashed the previous day’s events to the office gathering, ignored by George and Lester and eventually annoying Jarred enough to cause his departure.
Days passed. Manny was still in Grada working on his charm and the Willys. Sarah called Lila several times to check on the status of the two missing friends and to chat. Pepper trained Penny well. She took him for walks through town and let Pepper decide how long and how far the outings would be. Pepper was a constant with Penny and his baggy face invited affectionate attention as it had with Helga. “Hi Penny, Pepper?
?? went the greetings.