Remembering August (Triple C Ranch Saga)

by Rodney V. Earle

  “Eighteen months?” Augie asked, pissed-off. “Eighteen months?”

  “Yeah,” Colleen said. “My dad was devastated.”

  “I’ll bet you were, too. Shit… I’m sorry,” said Augie. “If Leah was in here, I would have her give you another hug.”

  “I’m okay,” Colleen said as she wiped her eyes. “I still have the dress I was wearing the day it happened.”

  “Wow,” Augie said. “So… getting back to the phone conversation… why did you yell at your mother-in-law?”

  “I don’t know,” Colleen said. “I just got really pissed off about the priest thing, and I yelled at her because she asked me a question that I didn’t feel like answering at the moment.”

  “What was the question?” Augie asked.

  †

  Sheila trembled in horror as the heavy steel door inched open with a high-pitched squall. Sheila froze. The squealing tires in the distance grew louder, but the delivery truck made it impossible to see what was happening.

  “Are you Mrs. Jones?” a man in a tan LA County Sheriff’s uniform asked from the doorway

  “Oh, thank God!” Sheila exclaimed. You scared me to death!”

  “Sorry about that, ma’am,” the officer said. “Have you spoken with anyone from the sheriff’s office yet?”

  Before Sheila could answer, a black and white patrol car appeared from behind the delivery truck and raced toward her with the blue and red lights glaring full force.

  “Fifty one… subject is establishment owner. Copy?” the officer said into the radio microphone slung over his shoulder.

  “Copy sixteen,” a male voice replied over the speaker.

  The driver of the patrol car suddenly turned off the flashing lights and slowed his speed as he approached.

  “I am indeed the owner,” Sheila said as she turned and addressed the sheriff’s deputy. “What happened?”

  The deputy motioned to the man in the patrol unit and said, “We received notification of an intrusion approximately fifteen minutes ago. Would you come with me, please?”

  “Sure,” Sheila said and drew a deep breath. She picked up her keys, closed her phone with a snap, and put both items in her purse. The deputy held the door open and Sheila entered Colony Day Spa.

  †

  Colleen thought for a second about what she was going to tell Augie about her conversation with Joan. “It was nothing,” she said. “Just about some invoice or something stupid.” Colleen felt bad for telling a lie when Augie had been nothing but honest with her.

  “You yelled at her for that?” Augie asked.

  “Yeah. Stupid, huh?”

  “Well… I’m not being mean or anything… but yeah. That sounds kind of dumb,” said Augie. “So let me get this straight. The conversation about me being molested by a priest caused you to take it out on someone else. Your mother-in-law, no less.”

  “I didn’t say I was perfect, smarty pants,” Colleen replied in a high-pitched girly tone.

  “You owe me one gumball machine,” Augie chided.

  “You are just gonna steal that line right out from under me, aren’t you, young lady?” Colleen asked.

  “It’s a good line,” Augie said.

  “No… it’s a great line.”

  “So let’s move on to the next subject, shall we?” Augie asked.

  “Okay… shoot.” Colleen said. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Are you married?” Augie asked. “I don’t see no rock on that finger of yours.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t see no r—” Colleen started to ask, and then gasped as she looked at her hand. “Oh, shit! Shit shit SHIT!”

  “What’s the—”

  “My wedding ring’s gone!”

  †

  Sheila passed by each of the therapy rooms on her way to the front lobby, peering into each room as she went.

  “Everything in order so far, Mrs. Jones?” the uniformed officer asked as he followed her closely.

  “So far,” Sheila said. “You said that someone broke in fifteen minutes ago?”

  “I said there was an intrusion,” he corrected. “I didn’t say there was a break-in.”

  “What’s the difference?” Sheila asked.

  “Take a look at the lobby. You’ll understand better.”

  Sheila entered the lobby through the etched glass door that separated the two sections of the spa. She stopped and looked around at the plush white leather sofas and matching chairs, but found nothing amiss. The front door was propped open with one of the small side tables, and a tall man in his late thirties stood outside, smoking a cigarette.

  The man was wearing a simple gray two-piece suit with cheap black shoes and a Surry tie that didn’t go with anything else he was wearing. Fake Ray-Ban sunglasses sat low on the bridge of his nose as he spoke into a cell phone that looked like a Wal-Mart prepay.

  “Over here, ma’am,” said the uniformed officer. “Can you tell us what used to be in this spot?” he asked.

  Sheila stepped behind the reception desk counter and looked at the empty space the uniformed officer was motioning to.

  “Shit,” she said through gnashed teeth.

  †

  Colleen bolted upright and frantically searched the blankets. She tried to remember the last time she saw the simple platinum band with a two-carat diamond solitaire.

  Augie leaned forward, watched Colleen for a moment, and then spoke up. “I don’t remember seeing a ring, but then again, I only have one good eye.”

  “I know I had it on yesterday morning when I got up,” Colleen said. “Do they take your jewelry off before you go to surgery?” Colleen asked as she searched the blankets again.

  “Actually… I’m pretty sure they do,” Augie said. “I had to take mine off a few times before surgery, but I was awake before I went in.”

  “I hope they have it somewhere,” said Colleen. “I would die if I lost it.”

  Colleen pushed the call button on the bedrail, and within a few seconds, a female voice answered.

  “Can I help you?”

  “Yes… um… do you know if my wedding ring is at the nurse’s station?” Colleen asked.

  “Your nurse is right here,” the voice replied. “I’ll ask her if there’s anything in your chart. Can you hold on a second?”

  “Okay,” Colleen said loudly. “I hope to God that they have it somewhere,” she said to Augie.

  “I’m sure they do if you came in with it,” Augie assured.

  “Colleen?” Leah’s voice said over the speaker.

  “Hey, Leah,” Colleen said. “Please tell me that you know where my wedding ring is.”

  “Well,” Leah said. “Usually if you come in with jewelry, they give it to security and put a little label on your chart.”

  “Shit,” Colleen said.

  “Don’t worry,” Leah said. “If you came in with it, I’m sure that whoever prepped you gave it to security. What did it look like?”

  “It was a simple round platinum band with a two-carat diamond,” Colleen said as she massaged her ring finger.

  “Okay. I’ll look through the chart, make some calls, and then get back to you.”

  “Thanks, Leah,” said Colleen.

  “It’ll take a little time, but I’ll let you know what I find.”

  “Okay,” Colleen replied with a deep sigh. “Thanks again.”

  “You’re welcome,” said Leah.

  The speaker emitted a loud click. “Hello? Hello?” Colleen called loudly to make sure nobody was still listening. “Fuck!” she said loudly. “If some asshole in this hospital stole my ring, there will be a load of fuckin’ trouble!”

  “Shit,” said Augie. “Like I said before, I wouldn’t want to be on your bad side.”

  “I have a hard time believing that you could get on my bad side, Augie,” Colleen said. “Somebody in this hospital, however, is about to if they don’t find my ring.”

  “I hope they find it,” Augie said. “And soon.�
�

  “Me too,” said Colleen.

  “So what does it take to get on your bad side?” asked Augie.

  “There are only a couple of things you need to remember to avoid that,” said Colleen.

  “And they are?” Augie asked.

  “Never steal from me, for one. If you ask me for something, I will share all I have. If you steal from me, I will take back what’s mine, and everything you have.”

  “Wow,” Augie commented. “What else?”

  “I have another favorite saying.”

  “You mean besides the gumball machine one?”

  “Yes,” Colleen said. “It goes like this: I won’t be wronged, I won’t be insulted, and I won’t be laid a hand on. I don’t do these things to other people, and I require the same from them.”

  “Who said that?” Augie asked. “It sounds familiar for some reason.”

  “Marion Michael Morrison.”

  “Never heard of him, but I like the quote.”

  “Yes you have heard of him,” said Colleen. “You know him as John Wayne.”

  “His name was Marion?” she asked with her head tilted to one side.

  “It sure was. Chase’s parents knew him back in the day.”

  “No shit.”

  “No shit,” Colleen replied. “The Caldwells were old friends of the Wrigleys out on Catalina Island, and the Wrigleys were friends with Duke.”

  “And the Wrigleys are the chewing gum people.” Augie added.

  “They sure are,” Colleen replied. “The same Wrigleys of Wrigley Field.”

  “Now that, I knew.”

  “Anyway, the Wrigleys knew John for a number of years, and they used to have huge barbeque parties on the island. The rumor was that Duke held up shooting of The Sands of Iwo Jima so he could go to one of these shindigs.”

  “Seriously?” asked Augie.

  “Yup. It was 1969, I think. They filmed parts of the movie on the island, and John heard about a big cookout they were having in honor of the Cubs, so he told everyone to take the day off and he crashed the party.”

  “Ha!” Augie blurted.

  “When he showed up, everyone knew who he was and that they were shooting on the island. And what are you gonna do, tell John Wayne that he can’t have some of your tater salad?”

  “You got that right,” said Augie.

  “So the rest is history. Every time there was a party or a barbeque or whatever, they invited him. That’s where Chase’s father met him, and they became casual friends.”

  “That’s a cool story.”

  “Oh, there’s more,” Colleen added.

  “There is?” Augie shifted her position and readied herself like a kid watching a magician.

  “Lots more,” Colleen said. She turned so she could look at Augie squarely instead of straining her neck. Augie cradled her ribs and tummy as she hugged her knees in a seated position.

  “Okay, I’m ready,” she said.

  “Back in early seventy-six, John was wrapping up production on The Shootist at Warner Brothers in Burbank. He was full of cancer and needed plenty of rest, so he called up the Wrigleys and asked if he could stay at the ranch for a few days.”

  “The Shootist… I have heard of it, but I haven’t seen it,” Augie said.

  “That’s where that quote comes from… the one about being wronged and insulted.”

  “Gotcha,” said Augie.

  “Anyway… John went to the ranch for a few days, and it just so happened that Chase’s father and Carlos, my foreman, were out there at the same time.

  “Why were they there?”

  “Well… Los was known as one of the best trainers on the West Coast, and the Wrigleys had just lost their lead man for some reason,” Colleen said. “They hired Chase’s father and Los to come out and show the new trainer the ropes.”

  “So they were out there at the same time,” Augie interrupted.

  “Right.”

  “I like this story,” Augie said in a girly voice.

  “I like it too,” said Colleen. “But I keep getting interrupted.”

  “Ha!” Augie sputtered.

  “John hung around and watched Los do what he does best, and he and Chase’s father chatted on and off. Well, a few days later Los and Chase’s father were taking a break, and they heard shooting coming from behind the ranch house — which is beautiful, by the way.”

  “Shooting?”

  “Right. It took ‘em by surprise at first, but nobody got excited or anything, so they went to see who was shooting what. It turns out that John wanted to go riding, but Lauren Bacall wouldn’t let him because of the condition he was in.”

  “Wow! Lauren Bacall was there too?”

  “Yup. She came out because she was worried about him, and they were such great friends. They had just finished filming together and she knew what kind of shape he was in. As I understand it, Lauren asked the staff to set up some tin cans and stuff so John could do one of the things he really liked to do, which was shoot.”

  “Wow,” Augie said. “So he even brought his gun with him?”

  “Chase said that his father told him that he never went anywhere without his 1892 Winchester.”

  “I don’t know anything about guns,” said Augie.

  “Well, the Winchester was one of those lever-action rifles that he used in his Westerns. You know… the kind where you had to pull the metal loop thing underneath to cock it.” Colleen paused and looked for signs that Augie understood what she was saying.

  “Oh right, like the Chuck Connors kind,” Augie said with a nod.

  “Exactly!” Colleen exclaimed. “How do you know about Chuck Connors? That was way before your time.”

  “My dad watched reruns of The Rifleman constantly. He used to make me watch it with him on Saturday afternoons. I remember thinking it was cool to see Chuck shoot really fast at the beginning of each episode.”

  “You surprise me, young Jedi,” Colleen said. “The 1892 Winchester that John used in his Westerns… was the exact same model that Chuck used in The Rifleman.”

  “See? I ain’t so ‘toopid after all,” Augie said. “But let’s not get sidetracked. I wanna hear the rest of the story.”

  “Okay,” said Colleen. “So they set up some tin cans on the fence in the lot behind the house.”

  “You said that already.”

  “Right… sorry,” Colleen said, shaking her head. “Lauren was sittin’ there sippin’ iced tea, watching John. Los and Chase’s father went over and hung out so they could watch him shoot.”

  Augie stretched her legs and turned to a more reclined position. She cradled her abdomen again and let out a groan. Colleen stopped talking for a moment and looked at her with concern.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah,” Augie replied. “I have cramps really bad.”

  “That sucks.”

  “That’s okay. Continue the story, and I’ll lay here with my eyes closed and imagine it.”

  “You sure? I can tell you the rest later if you’re tired.”

  “I’m not tired,” said Augie. “Just… in pain.”

  “Okay. I’m gonna lay back and tell you the story how Chase used to tell it. It’s his… well… it was his favorite story, and he used to tell it like his father told it to him.”

  “How old was Chase then?” Augie asked.

  “It was before he was born,” replied Colleen. “Let’s see. If it was in early seventy-six, and Chase was born in June of seventy-seven… I guess it was about a year and a half before he was born.”

  “Gotcha… keep going.”

  Colleen leaned back against the thin pillow and continued telling the story just as Chase had done countless times, with tidbits added by Carlos. She thought about how someday she would write the story down for people to enjoy, because Carlos and Joan added different details that Chase never knew.

  †

  Thirty-two-year-old Carlos Guzman leaned against the chest-high wooden fence with his elb
ows perched on the top rail. He watched each can fall as the six-foot, four-inch legend took careful aim before each squeeze of the Winchester’s trigger. Carl Caldwell stood beside Carlos in the early Bicentennial sun as the sixty-nine-year-old Duke hefted the seven-pound rifle again and again.

  Carl’s attention frequently drifted from target practice as the ageless Bacall sat in the wicker chair with her legs crossed, sipping her iced tea. She wore dark blue denim jeans and a white, long-sleeved blouse, complete with thick-framed sunglasses and a wide-brimmed sun hat.

  “Good one, Duke,” Lauren said as the last can jumped from the fence.

  “Thanks, Betty,” he replied, slightly out of breath.

  John wore tan trousers and a red, long-sleeved western shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

  “Why do you have to call me that?” she asked playfully.

  “It’s your name, ain’t it?” Duke asked as he turned and cradled the Winchester in the crook of his elbow and leaned against the fence.

  “So now you want me to call you Marion, is that it?” She pulled her sunglasses further down the bridge of her nose and peered at him.

  Duke ignored her as he turned toward Carlos and Carl. Carlos stared at the beautiful Winchester and Carl stared at Lauren.

  “Not bad, eh Carliss?” Duke said as he blotted sweat from his brow with a handkerchief.

  “Bueno, Señor Wayne,” Carlos replied as he looked up from the rifle.

  “Thank ya. Ya shoot?” asked Duke.

  “A little.”

  Duke turned to the young staff assistant sitting in the World War II Jeep next to the barn. “Set ’er up again!”

  The staff assistant fired up the Jeep and headed down the fence line toward the cans without saying a word.

  “Tell ya what, Carliss,” said Duke. “If you’ll… reload my pea shooter here… I’ll let ya take a crack at a few of them bean tins.”

  Carlos was excited beyond belief at the prospect of holding John Wayne’s rifle, much less shooting with it.

  “Duke,” Lauren interrupted from her chair. “Why don’t you sit down and rest for a while. Drink your tea.”

  “See what I gotta put up with?” he said as he jerked his thumb over his shoulder at Lauren. “Always tellin’ a guy what’s what.”