Generations in Agony...Texas: Chapter Seventeen

17) A lot of talk around town…


Charlie wheeled the bike up on the sidewalk in front of the General Store. On the way down the street, he noticed several groups of people gathered together, some looking back over their shoulders, but all were talking and making excited gestures.

Just outside the store, he heard some of the conversation between the old men that sat around the two spit-n-whittle benches on the sidewalk in front…

“…stands to reason ole Carl would be the one to bring in a body.”

“…over a horse, no less. Some things never change.”

“…wonder what all he knows about how that feller got hisself kilt?”

“…who wants to go ask him?”

“…not me, no way. That old man’ll shoot ya as soon as he’d look at ya.”

“…I remember when…”

Charlie went on inside. There were more little groups standing around, some talking with the store manager, Mike Lodge; all were talking about the body the Carl Speck Sr. had rode into town with.

Charlie went on over to the back right corner where the hats were displayed. He looked, long and hard at the straw cowboy hats; then stood and stared longingly at the Stetsons and Stetson wannabes. He picked up a pearl-white Stetson and looked at the silk lining inside it. Running his fingers over the felt band, Charlie stared at the gold print label. Then, he looked around to check if anyone was looking. For some reason, he felt a little silly trying on a hat, especially one he already knew he would not be purchasing.

The Stetson rested all the way down to his ears. Quickly, Charlie pulled it off and replaced it on the hat stand. Then, while still staring at the cowboy hats, he moved down to the racks that held regular, plain old baseball caps. He found one that was as close to Cub blue as was available from the choices, and tried it on. It had a little bit of elastic around the back of the band, and it snugged nicely on his head. Finding the mirror, he checked his reflection, just to make sure he did not look like a spaz with it on. He smiled and nodded at himself.

Turning for the front of the store, he walked by the sporting goods section and grabbed a new Spaulding baseball. He paused a moment, then grabbed another. After all, he had his own money; thirty-eight bucks rested in his wallet. As he approached the front counter, he decided not to let Doc pay for the cap, despite the offer. He knew his dad would have encouraged him to pay for it himself. After all, that’s why he had a job in the first place.

As he walked out, he still had thirty dollars and sixty-three cents in his possession as he proudly placed the new ball cap on his head. The bill was still too new and wanted to stick out flat across the front of the cap. That, Charlie knew, just would not do. Taking off the cap as he walked to his bike, he folded the bill, and stuck it in his back pocket. A little rear end heat and sweat on the ride out to the ball field would put the crease in the bill, then the sun would not get to his eyes from the sides.

He rode no more than twenty yards before he saw the palomino tied off in front of Constable Entwhistle’s office. Another small crowd stood around in front talking…

“…city slicker in a suit get out in the desert like that?”

“…say he had more than ninety bites on him, according to the Doc.”

“…musta got lost.”

“…ain’t the first to have that happen.”

“…I remember when…”

Charlie rode on by, but he glanced in the window and saw his grandfather, looking pretty displeased with sitting in the office answering questions. Charlie waved, and the old man scowled at first, then nodded at Charlie before he was out of sight.

Part of Charlie was telling himself to go in there and tell the constable about the man who had come into the station yesterday. Then, he realized that he could not do that without giving Solo away. After all, Solo was only protecting the Doc and his mom. Still, it bothered him from the moment he saw the body over the back of Pilot.

*

“You gonna charge me with a crime, Entwhistle? Or am I allowed to get on about my business? All this fuss had cut into my own business. If I’d a knowd all this was in store for me, I’d of left that idiot out yonder for the buzzards to pick clean. Then, we could’ve just bagged up the bones and been done with it.”

“I know, Mr. Speck, sir.” Entwhistle was sweating through his uniform shirt. He had grown up hearing stories about the legendary Carl Speck Sr. and now the old man himself was sitting in his office. The last thing Henry wanted to do was piss off a known killer and an expert marksman. “And, no, sir, you ain’t charged with any crime. Ain’t been no crime that I can tell.”

“Godawmighty, son, then why in god’s name am I stuck sitting here with you?”

“Paperwork, Mr. Speck. Just the paperwork is all.”

“Here I thought I was just doing my civic duty. What I get for coming back into town in the first place.”

“Sorry, Mr. Speck.”

“Am I free to go now?”

“Yes, sir. Where you think you’ll be over the next couple weeks?”

“Up north.”

“You mean on the north range?”

“Where the hell did you think I meant, Henry? Sure as hell ain’t goin’ to Canady! Boy, I swear I won’t do this again.”

“Preciate you coming in, Mr. Speck. That’s about all I reckon.”

Carl stood and walked out the door in a huff, sticking his hat back on his head as he stepped out on the sidewalk. He stopped and gave Cleo a sugar cube, then went two doors down to the bank.

“My goodness, Mr. Speck. Some of these checks are from last year.”

“Yep.”

“Hope they’re still good.”

“Onyx says they are.”

“Alright then. Would you like to talk with the manager about one of our new CDs?”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a type of investment. You have all your money in a typical savings account. A CD pays you more interest, especially if you leave it in when it comes full term.”

“Got no idear what you’re saying, Doris. But, maybe I’ll talk with Nick next time I come in to town about that.”

“Have a good day, Mr. Speck.”

“Same to ya.” He walked back out of the bank without a word to anyone else. Time was wasting. He was angry that he now would never make it back to the north range before sundown. It would be a cold camp tonight. He hated cold camping. It made his bones ache when in the morning.

Besides, he had planned to do some serious thinking about his grandson. Nice looking kid. Charlie had been well mannered to boot. Not many young’uns were taught their manners now-a-days.

An old Plymouth pulled up behind Cleo and the horn honked just as Carl was ready to stick a boot in his stirrup. Lord help me…what now? He turned and saw Tootie sitting in the Plymouth. She waved a Tuck Oil truck around her position in the middle of the street as she smiled at Carl. “Hey, stranger.”

“Howdy do, Miz Tootie.” He tipped his hat.

“You in town to see your kin folk, or just to bring dead men by for Henry?”

Carl formed a straight line with his lips. “Just about to head back out.”

“You are going by your sister’s old place to say hello to Carla, aren’t you?”

“Would if I had time. Gotta get on back out yonder.”

Tootie gave Carl the same look she would for a pile of fresh dung. “That’s not very civil of you, Carl.”

He rested his hands on his hips and nodded. “I met the boy today. Nice enough young man.”

“He sure is, quite a boy, that’n. Made a big splash his first week in town too.”

“So I hear.”

Tootie pointed a crooked finger at him. “You be sure to stop by and see Carla, now.”

“I’ll do that soon as I can.”

Tootie waved a dismissive hand at him. “You never change, Carl. Bye-bye.”

He tipped his hat as she drove off. Then, as quickly as he could, he mounted Cleo and turned her out into the street, then down by the bank to the Onyx gate. His truck was all packed and provisioned. All he needed was to put Cleo inside and they could roll out.

Carl checked over his provisions. Everything was in order. Lupe stood by holding Cleo as Carl went over everything. “Looks good, Lupe. Much obliged, you loading it all in for me.”

“Si, is no problemo, Senior Carl.”

Carl pulled out his wallet and peeled a couple of ones away from it, then handed them over to Lupe, who shook his head and stepped back. “No, senior. Is my job.” Of course, the way Lupe said it, job sounded like yob.

“Well,” Carl stood there holding the cash and feeling silly. “I usually load my own provisions, Lupe. This was a lotta work.”

Lupe smiled pleasantly and held out Cleo’s lead rope.

Carl stuck his money back into his wallet and then shoved the wallet back into his Wranglers. “Alright then…” He took the rope and led Cleo into the truck.

Once he was headed back out the long driveway to the front gate, Carl stuck a hand-rolled smoke in his lips and lit it with the truck lighter. When he got to the blinking stoplight at the bank intersection. He sat there a moment, thinking. The access road that would take him north was down past the Esso station to the right. All of a sudden, with his brain screaming ‘no’, he turned left and drove out past the fairgrounds.

He saw the boys playing ball over on the old field, and drove just beyond, then turned in the dusty parking lot that lined the right field fence. A few other cars and trucks were parked there as well, mostly men sipping beer as they watched the kids make a go of it in the heat.

It took him a minute to spot Charlie, mostly because he had not thought to look at the pitcher. Carl Jr., he recalled, played catcher. So, when the kid with the gear on, behind the plate turned out to be a Mexican, Carl had started scanning the rest of the infield and then the outfield. Then he scanned both benches. Finally, he watched as his grandson made his windup, and held his breath as the boy burned in a pitch; the batter made a mighty cut, but he only sliced the air. The pitch smacked into the Mexican boy’s glove. Despite himself, Carl Speck Sr. felt his chest begin to swell with something he had not felt in decades: pride.

For the better part of twenty minutes, he sat there watching. A few other cars had pulled in and were watching, but Carl paid them no mind. He kept his eyes on his grandson, liking what he saw.

“You from around here?” A man in a black suit and tie stood by Carl’s window. He spoke like a Yankee. Carl could not tell where, exactly, up north this man had come from, but he was sure he was not from Texas. He nodded at the guy.

“Oh, good. I was wondering…you know the doctor here abouts?”

“I do.”

“Could you tell me where I might find him? I have a condition that needs some attending to, see?”

“That ain’t none o my business, mister. But, the Doc’s office is not more ‘n a mile or so up that-a-way.”

The Yankee squinted into the sun, looking up the road headed into Agony. “Town’s that way?”

“Yep.”

“Tanks, mister.”

“Don’t mention it.” Carl said, pulling his makings from his shirt pocket.
As the man got back into a dark, Ford sedan, Carl Speck made himself a note: the suit that man had on was very similar to the torn up suit the rattlesnake bite victim wore.

*