Remembering August (Triple C Ranch Saga)

by Rodney V. Earle

  “How’d you get his number?”

  “I’ve always had it,” said Colleen. “He didn’t get the new wing of this hospital built without public support.”

  “I still don’t get it,” said Augie.

  “Okay… this hospital was built with the help of bonds and private donors. The Amelia Wilson Charitable Foundation was probably their biggest financial supporter at that time,” said Colleen.

  “Who is Amelia Wilson?”

  “My mother.”

  “Oooooh,” said Augie. “Your mother who—,”

  “Yes. The one who died when I was eleven.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah,” said Colleen. “I am currently the Director of the foundation, until which time I am deemed unfit to act as such, and so on and so forth, et cetera, et cetera.”

  “So, when you made a well-placed phone call, you called the CEO,” Augie repeated.

  “I sure’s hell did! It’s a different guy than the one who was in charge when the new wing was built, but I quickly educated him by directing him to the bronze plaque in the lobby of the new wing.”

  “Let me guess,” said Augie. “It says something about being built with a generous donation by the… what was the name?”

  “Amelia Wilson.”

  “Amelia Wilson… Charitable Foundation, and it your name as the Director.”

  “You are smarter than you make yourself out to be, my friend.”

  “Holy shit! What did he say?” Augie asked with bright eyes and an open mouth.

  “What could he say? I told him what happened here, and the next thing you know, people are jumpin’ through hoops everywhere. Leah said that she had only seen him one other time in the three years she has been here, but he showed up at the nurse’s station to see to things personally.”

  “Jesus Christ!” Augie blurted. “Are you serious?”

  “You bet your ass I’m serious. And that’s not all.”

  “There’s more?”

  “Lots more,” said Colleen. “You are still being discharged in an hour or two, or whenever Doc takes a look at the X-rays, but you won’t be going home.”

  “Where am I going?”

  “Nowhere. This room will become a private room, and you will be my guest overnight, or for however long I am here if that’s what I want, and you don’t even have to get out of bed. You get meals and the whole works, courtesy of Las Palmas.”

  “Holy shit!” Augie said with a laugh. “I can’t believe it! How in the hell am I ever going to… I mean… that has got to cost a lot of money!”

  “Here’s the best part,” Colleen whispered. “It won’t cost either one of us one… red… cent.”

  “How can that be? You can’t just… I mean… hospitals just don’t give away shit for free!”

  “No… they don’t. But when their employees act in a manner inconsistent with proper patient care, they are bound to make it right before the public gets wind of it.”

  “Oh, my God, that’s awesome!” Augie squealed. “Thank you so much! I just don’t know what to say!”

  “Just saying thank you is more than enough, Augie. I feel like I know you better than you know yourself in some respects, and I knew you would have a problem accepting… well… charity,” Colleen said.

  “You’re right,” said Augie. “I don’t readily accept help from people, because eventually they want something in return, and the price is usually too high… if you know what I mean.”

  “I know what you mean,” said Colleen. “If we’re gonna be friends, Augie, you’ve got to be able to accept my help, even if you didn’t ask for it.”

  “But that’s a hard thing to do when I know I’ll never be able to repay the favor. I didn’t mean to lash out at you about the piles of cash thing, but everyone I know that has money will do anything they can to keep every penny of it.”

  “I’m not like everyone else,” said Colleen.

  “No, you surely aren’t.”

  “And as far as repayment goes, there’s nothing to repay… yet. Like I said, this hospital will do what’s right because it’s in their best interest to do what’s right. And you know what? Pissing off their largest benefactor is not really the best move, is it?”

  “Oh hell yes,” said Augie. “I mean hell no. So there’s nothing to repay because of the way Fredricks treated me… us?”

  “Exactly.”

  “But you said yet. What does that mean? Yet. That’s the catch, isn’t it? Just like I thought,” Augie said with a bit of a bite to her tone.

  “Just hold your horses, Kemo Sabe,” said Colleen. “I said yet because so far I haven’t done anything that requires repayment, but what happens next is up to you.”

  “I have no idea what will happen next, Colleen. That’s what I have been trying to tell you. Before you told me I am staying here for the night, I couldn’t see past five minutes from now. Thanks to you, I see to tomorrow morning but that’s about it.”

  “Well, I’ll see what I can do to help with that, too,” said Colleen.

  “More charity?”

  “Not even close,” said Colleen. “I believe in a fair day’s wage for a fair day’s work, Augie.”

  “But I don’t work for you.”

  “Would you like to?” asked Colleen.

  “Like to what?” asked Augie.

  “Work for me. Would you like to work for me?”

  †

  Carlos massaged Ka’s withers and rinsed away the day’s dust with cool water. The chestnut swished her tail lazily and whinnied a soft approval as the late afternoon breeze whispered through her forelocks.

  Carlos drew a heavy sigh and thought about Colleen and Joan, and how different life around the Triple C was going to be for a while. He knew Colleen would find a way to get around once she was released from the hospital, regardless of her condition. He knew all too well how she would push herself and everyone else like she had something to prove.

  She reminded him of Chase Caldwell. Fresh out of college, Chase had the burden of a disapproving father who believed that the business of horses was learned by immersion and hard work rather than sitting in a classroom filled with lazy, over-privileged brats. Carl Caldwell made his position very clear to all who would listen, and in those days, everyone listened.

  Joan doted on her precious Chase despite Carl’s disappointment, and many spirited arguments resulted. Joan’s defiance came with a price, usually paid for by the back of Carl’s hand. Carlos felt sorry for Joan, but could do nothing more than lend an ear and a shoulder for comfort.

  In those days, Joan was known to seek solace in a bottle of Napa Merlot from the Double C’s extensive cellar, but modern times gave way to changing tastes. Napa wine was replaced by an endless supply of Wisconsin Premium beer, a cheap swill that Colleen enjoyed and had shipped in from some jerkwater town in Minnesota once a month.

  Carlos patted Ka’s rump and thought about something his father used to say. He said, “A fool worries about a storm he cannot control. A wise man whistles with the wind.” Carlos began whistling “My Rifle, My Pony, and Me.” Ka responded with a long whinny and a vigorous swish of her tail in the breeze.

  Two ranch hands emerged from the tack room, wiped their brows and leaned against the doorway. A few others gathered at the show ring fence and removed their hats. Carlos whistled on. Jesus emerged from the tack room, an ice cold Wisconsin Premium in his hand. As Carlos finished the last chorus of his tune, Jesus bowed and presented him with the beer. Carlos removed his hat and bowed graciously as the ranch hands whooped and hollered and held their hats high in the air.

  †

  “I already have a job, shitty though it may be… and besides, I don’t know the first damn thing about horses or pigs or chickens or cows or anything else in the meat section,” said Augie.

  “Oh right,” said Colleen. “When do you go back to work?”

  Augie thought hard for a moment. She knew her boss wouldn’t let her return to work in the condition s
he was in.

  “That’s what I thought,” said Colleen

  “You got a point there,” said Augie.

  “So it’s all settled. And by the way, horses are not in the meat section. What country do you live in, for God’s sake?”

  “I am usually accused of being from another planet.”

  “I can believe that. So what can you do?”

  “I can… take a beating… I do that pretty well,” she said with a weak smile.

  “I get the impression this is not the first time you’ve been put in the hospital by some asshole.”

  Augie paused and looked at Colleen squarely. She tried to think of something to say, but Colleen beat her to it.

  “Oh, I think we know each other enough by now to speak frankly here, don’t you?”

  “True. Just say what’s on your mind, Colleen. Don’t hold back on my account.”

  Augie leaned back against her pillow and crossed her arms. She appeared to Colleen as if she was cradling some abdominal pain more than she was trying to present a defensive stance.

  “I am not used to walking on eggshells for anyone, Augie. I don’t like it, and we’ve already shared plenty, so if I sound frank or harsh at times, don’t take any offense to it. It’s just my way, and sometimes, yes, I’ll admit that it can get me into trouble, but I try to deal with it the best I can. The funny thing about all of this is, you can indeed take a beating. That much is for sure. There’s one of the reasons I think you could work at the Triple C with me. I have been called a ‘tough broad’ by more than one man, and I’m sure you can take more than I ever could.”

  Augie nodded her head to the side in respectful acknowledgement of the fact that what Colleen said was right on the mark. She tried to visualize what working on the Triple C would entail. She formulated visions in her mind of what the place looked like, and figured it was far from a dump in the countryside. She could tell just from looking at Colleen that she had money, and plenty of it. She knew that Colleen didn’t just fall into wealth; she could tell that she worked for it, and worked hard.

  Augie brought her right hand to her chin, stared at the ceiling, and said, “Hmmm… what can I do?”

  “Can you… type?”

  “Oh absolutely,” replied Augie. “And quite fast, I might add.”

  “Okay, that’s a start,” said Colleen. “So if you can type, I am assuming you have plenty of computer experience then. That is… unless you use a typewriter… and I haven’t seen one used in years.”

  “Yes. I had a laptop, and a Facebook, but I haven’t been on it in a long time. My boyfriend pawned my laptop and I didn’t have the money to get it out of hock.”

  “Jesus, what a fucking loser,” said Colleen.

  “Yeah… that’s the kind of guys I attract,” Augie said with a forced smile.

  “I want you to know that I can understand perfectly why those things happen to you. I do… no bullshit. I know what it feels like when you know that the shit’s going to hit the fan, and you are faced with choosing the lesser of two evils. Sometimes you pick your battles, knowing full well you are going to lose them. I have seen it time and time again. I have seen the hopelessness in the eyes of people I cared deeply for, and some will accept a little help, while others are beyond help. I take one look at you, and I know for a fact that if we can get past the pride shit, and if you would let me help you, you could be on the path to stability… preferably one where you don’t have to get beat up every five minutes.”

  Augie’s forced smile disappeared as she processed Colleen’s little speech. She felt that Colleen was one of the first people who could understand what happens when a woman gets in over her head because a different part of her body takes over and does the thinking for her.

  “I gotta give you credit, Colleen,” she said. “You know more about this shit than I do.”

  “I wouldn’t say I know more about it—”

  “Maybe I said that wrong,” Augie interrupted. “You can see things that I have problems seeing, even if they are right in front of me. I have a habit of not seeing the forest for the trees.”

  “We all do, Augie… and not just women like us. Men don’t see shit the way we do. I don’t have a lot of male friends because they are just… forgive me for saying… they are too damn simple. I have to say that I never knew another man to understand some things until I met Chase.”

  “Oh right,” said Augie. You were going to tell me more about him, but we got sidetracked.”

  “There will be plenty of time for that, but right now, we’re talking about you… and me,” Colleen said with a reassuring smile.

  “Right. Team Cripple,” Augie said with a smile of her own.

  “My point is that we have to stick together, Augie. Some of us are missing some pretty big insight on how shit works, and we have to rely on each other to get through some of it.”

  “I gotta agree with you there,” said Augie. “It’s just that I have a problem trusting anyone, and it’s something that years of therapy haven’t been able to fix.”

  “One of my favorite sayings is, ‘You never fail until you stop trying,’ my friend.”

  “Good one,” said Augie. “You wanna hear my favorite saying?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Just when I thought I was winning the game of life, there was a flag on the play.”

  “Oh, I like that one, Augie! I need to woodburn that on something and put it in the office.”

  “I saw that on a poster somewhere when I was a kid, and I never knew what it meant until I was a football cheerleader in high school. Then it all made sense, and I never forgot it, because it fits me to a tee.”

  “That’s good shit, Augie. So you said you can type, and you know your way around a computer.”

  “Pretty much the basics, and lots of word processing and spreadsheet stuff I picked up in a class here and there.”

  The wheels in Colleen’s head began to turn. She thought about Augie’s skills with a computer and knew there was plenty of work she could do until she healed and could get her hands dirty.

  “Have you ever used any accounting software?”

  “Which one? Peachtree, QuickBooks or AccountEdge?”

  “Wow!” exclaimed Colleen. “You know all of those?”

  “And a few others, but it has been a while.”

  “But… you’re saying that you have worked with Peachtree, right?”

  “I wouldn’t say I am an expert, but I know my way around it pretty well,” said Augie matter-of-factly.

  “Holy shit, I think we have a winner here, Don! Hold on a minute while I make a call.”

  “Who the hell is Don?” Augie muttered.

  †

  The Triple C office phone rattled with a series of dull clicks. Its dark green plastic cover, stained with nicotine and spilled coffee, muffled the broken bell inside.

  Colleen complained about the old phone constantly, and even replaced it with a newer, prettier, more ergonomically correct model as a birthday present for Joan, but the old style phone quickly reappeared from the depths of the trash bin. Carlos had been kind enough to fish it out for Joan.

  Colleen was befuddled at her decision to keep the old one, but Joan helped her understand. She said, “Think of it this way: how would you like it if I threw away your El Camino and replaced it with a station wagon or a minivan?” Colleen quickly understood that the Triple C might be her spread, but the office belonged to Joan, and any changes to it would come from Joan herself.

  The old trophy continued to rattle, but Joan was indisposed. Joan’s office assistant, Merlin, was busy as well. The empty bottles of Wisconsin Premium that littered the office floor clinked and danced with the help of Merlin’s unusually long tongue, a well-designed tool perfect for lapping backwash from a discarded longneck.

  The phone rattled on as Merlin oinked, and Joan napped in the comfortable depths of the well-worn leather couch opposite her desk.

  Soon the rattling stopped, but Merlin
didn’t miss a beat until Joan’s cell phone rang. Even though the pug heard the simple ring tone many times, he turned his head back and forth, wrinkled his forehead, and oinked as if smelling the air would help, but no such luck. Merlin resumed cleaning the office floor as Joan dreamed of warm sunsets in the strong arms of the object of her desire, who happened to be enjoying a cold Wisconsin Premium of his own, his reward for a hard day’s work.

  †

  “She doesn’t answer her cell phone, either,” said Colleen.

  “Who? Your mother?” asked Augie.

  “Yeah.”

  “Would you after what happened?”

  “Probably not. I can’t blame her. She’s been through a lot, same as me.”

  “You lost a husband,” said Augie. “She lost a son. Surely you have an idea what’s been going through her mind lately, with you in the hospital and all.”

  Colleen thought for a long minute about everything that had happened over the last year at the Triple C.

  “Yeah,” she said. “We have both been through the ringer. I need to make things right with her, as I usually do when I go off half-cocked about something. Her feelings get hurt and then I have to walk on eggshells in my own house for about a week before she forgives me.”

  “You were calling her after I said I knew Peachtree. What about it?”

  “Oh!” Colleen exclaimed. “I was calling her because we want to electronify our accounting system. We are still using ledgers.”

  “I’ll bet that’s fun come tax time.”

  “You said it. Every year it’s a big pain in the ass. Don’t get me wrong, Joan runs a pretty tight ship, but she gets in over her head when we do benefit events. The tax codes for the foundation change every year, and she says it’s hard to keep up with them.”

  “When does your fiscal year end?” asked Augie.

  “The end of January.”

  “That makes sense. I never understood why companies struggle with the year end stuff in December with the holidays and all of that.”

  “So you know this shit. You could help us get up to speed and even electronify what we have done since February of this fiscal year.”