Four-Footed Angels

by J. T. Livingston

  Buster hiked his back, right leg one final time and watered his favorite palmetto palm bush. He ran quickly to Amanda when she opened the front door wider to allow him entry. He sat down and looked up at her while she secured the locks.

  Amanda shook her head. “No, it’s too late for another snack…time for sleep, little fella.” She pointed upstairs toward her bedroom. She laughed when Buster appeared to pout before he finally turned and sprinted up the carpeted stairs. She turned off all the lights downstairs, and made her way to the single bedroom upstairs. Her one-bedroom condo suited her needs perfectly; it was large enough for what little storage she needed, and small enough that it was quick and easy to maintain. It only took Amanda a few minutes to wash her face, brush her teeth, and pull on one of her father’s oversized, comfy tee-shirts. She looked down at her pillow to find Buster already comfortably splayed upon it. “Move over, Buster…you have to learn to share…” she smiled.

  It really had been a long day. She had thoroughly enjoyed her visit to the Foster Farm and meeting the wonderful family who ran it. Mrs. Stocker had fed her and Buster upon their return from Brooksville. She had not left Pet Haven until almost nine o’clock, but had taken her time because she knew that she had the next two weeks off work and could sleep late the next morning.

  Amanda fell asleep, to the sound of Buster’s soft snoring, the moment her head hit the pillow. Her sleep was peaceful until the early hours of Monday morning; that’s when her parents usually came to her in her dreams…usually within an hour before her awakening. It had been several weeks since she had dreamed of her parents but she smiled in her sleep when she heard her father’s voice.

  “Hey, there, Princess…guess who?” her father whispered. He looked over at his wife, Regina, and said, “She gets more beautiful every day, doesn’t she?”

  “Yes, she does…” Regina agreed, “But we don’t have much time, Stephen…tell her what she needs to know.”

  “I hear you both,” Amanda grinned in her sleep.

  “Okay, Princess…here’s the scoop. It would appear that you have some time off coming to you from work.”

  “Some much earned time off, I must say,” Amanda mumbled with her eyes still tightly closed. Buster continued snoring soundly beside her and she draped an arm over him. “I haven’t taken a personal day off since I started working for the Department, so I have two weeks coming to me. The Captain practically ordered me last week to find something else to do for two weeks.”

  “Well,” Regina smiled down at her sleeping daughter. She wished that she could touch her golden hair and hold her in her arms, but she knew that was not possible…at least not yet. “It just so happens that we have a project that might interest you…”

  “One that you, and Buster, will thoroughly enjoy…” Stephen chimed in.

  “Are you listening, Amanda?” Regina grinned.

  Amanda held up an index finger and shook it slightly. “Listening…you betcha…project for me to do…”

  Stephen hugged his wife tightly against him and shook his head. The next couple of weeks should be very interesting. The last thing he whispered into Amanda’s ear after they told her about the project was, “Be expecting a very unexpected visitor, Princess…”

  _____

  Amanda’s alarm clock clanged blaringly and jarred her awake at five-fifteen Monday morning. Buster barked and licked her face. Amanda searched blindly in the dark for the clock’s OFF switch and hit it a bit harder than was necessary. Buster barked and licked her face again.

  “Okay, okay…” she moaned as soon as she realized that she had, unintentionally, set the alarm for her first day off in eighteen months. She opened one eye and tried to focus. It was hard to see anything since it was still dark outside, but she did see Buster running around in circles on the bed. She immediately jumped up and yelled, “Don’t you dare pee on my bed, Buster! Come on, boy, let’s go pee-pee on the grass…come on!”

  She felt her way blindly down the staircase and let Buster outside to explore his early-morning experiences. She rubbed her eyes and made her way into the kitchen, without turning on any lights. She felt for the coffee maker’s ON button and plopped down into the worn-out, but comfortable recliner she had found at the local thrift store. She closed her eyes and suddenly remembered the dream with her parents. Her eyes popped open widely and she said, “Oh, crap! I’ve got to pack and get my butt back to Monticello!” She made her way to the front door and convinced Buster to give up on his dream of catching the rabbit who habitually ate all of Amanda’s flowering plants. “Come on, Buster! We have an adventure to get ready for…you’re gonna love my angels, fella!”

  ____

  Little John Abbott’s truck pulled up slowly outside the bunk house where most of his crew spent their nights. He spotted the lone silhouette leaning against the wooden fence outside the bunkhouse and knew immediately who it was. He cut the truck’s engine and got out.

  “You’re up early, Jones…” Little John grunted.

  Tyler thought he picked up a suspicious, accusatory tone to his boss’s voice. He also thought he knew why. He lifted his baseball cap and nodded. “Morning, Boss…yeah…I thought if you could spare me this morning, I would get an early start looking for Spartacus again.”

  Little John moved closer to the young man who had come to work for him a few months earlier. He couldn’t say why, but part of him didn’t trust Tyler Jones…if that was even his real name. He had done a background check on Tyler, but nothing negative had turned up. It was a common name, and the references Tyler had provided offered satisfactory, albeit vague, comments about his previous job experiences. The fact that Tyler had never served any time in jail or prison was the first red flag for Little John; still…he sensed that it was better to keep Tyler close so that he could keep an eye on him. He stared hard at Tyler and said, “You’ve been looking for him since Friday…there’s a lot of work to be done this week.”

  Tyler nodded. “I just need one more day, Mr. Abbott. If I don’t find him today, then we’ll have to assume that he died in the woods.”

  “I would prefer to KNOW what happened to him and not to ASSUME anything,” Little John grunted. “One more day is all you’ve got, kid…that’s it. That damn dog cost me a small fortune when he lost that fight, not to mention taking a hit to my reputation for having champion winners. By the way…the dog he lost to…Czar?”

  “Yeah?” Tyler replied.

  “I want him…I told Clint to make it happen, so make sure you do whatever he might need you to do to make that happen.” Little John did not wait for a response.

  Tyler watched while Little John turned abruptly and got back into his truck. He watched the truck until it turned right at the end of the long drive-way; Little John was obviously headed into town. “Yeah…that’ll happen…” he muttered before pulling out his cell phone. He let the phone at the other end ring until the voice mail came on. “Hey…it’s me…I’ll get back to you in a couple of hours, but plan on meeting me today at the point we agreed on…” Tyler looked around the quiet, darkened ranch and exhaled deeply. He got into his own truck, driving south toward a small café in Monticello. If he had looked in his rear view mirror, he probably would have seen the shadows of someone stepping out from behind the bunk house.

  Clint Meacham was Little John’s second-in-command. It was his job to run a check on the crew they hired to work at the ranch, but he had been out of town the day that Tyler Jones had been hired. Tyler had already been on the job for a week by the time Clint returned to the ranch, and Clint’s radar soared when he first met the young man. His instincts told him that Tyler should not be trusted, and he conveyed those feelings to Little John. The ranch had been extremely short-handed at the time, so Little John had told him to let Tyler remain on the job, but that Clint should keep a close eye on the kid.

  Clint flicked his cigarette butt to the ground and stepped on it with his heavy, work boot. He replaced the cigarette with a preferred pinch of dried
tobacco between his tongue and cheek. He watched Tyler’s truck disappear down the drive-way and make a left-turn southward. “Now, I wonder who you might be meeting today, Tyler Jones…and why…” Clint debated on whether or not he should follow Tyler, but Little John had another job for him to do today, so he knew he would have to put his suspicions about the young man on hold…for now. “Another time, kid…another time…”

  _____

  The breakfast crowd at the Heavenly Grille Café were all enjoying the fruits of Max’s labor this fine, Monday morning. The visit Home, as usual, had energized Max and Bertie, so the two of them relished in their work and their conversations with their customers. The café was alive with the enticing aromas of creamy cheese grits, buttery-fried eggs, sausage, bacon, ham, biscuits, and the never-ending cups of richly-brewed coffee. Max’s breakfasts were famous for being the stick-to-your-rib kind, and truckers from all walks of life made it a point to eat at the café whenever their routes allowed them. Max cooked the delicious food, and Bertie kept the refills coming. Nobody ever had to pay extra for seconds; Max’s only request was that the patrons not request more than they could actually eat, because he felt it was sinful to waste food when there were so many people around the world going without it. There was always a money jar on the counter where truckers gladly put extra tips for whatever family Max and Bertie were trying to help out at the moment; the voluntary giving of those donations made them feel less guilty for asking for free seconds of Max’s delicious food.

  Bertie was making her rounds, punching an available shoulder here and there, and keeping the coffee cups filled. Doug was cleaning the tables as quickly as possible when customers left so that the truckers waiting in their rigs could take their turn inside the café. The truckers could have easily gone a little farther down the interstate and stopped at one of the many fast-food restaurants, but word-of-mouth kept them coming…and waiting their turn…at the Heavenly Grille.

  Doug caught Bertie’s eye as she approached the table he was wiping down. He glanced out the window toward the parking lot and tilted his head in that direction. Bertie felt a chill run down her spine and turned to see what had captured Doug’s attention. She almost dropped the coffee pot when she saw the dark pick-up truck pull into the last empty spot in the parking lot. “Well, I’ll be damned…” she whispered to Doug. “Look at what the dog dragged in…”

  “No pun intended, I’m sure,” Doug grinned back at her. “Keep an eye on him…I’ll let Max know.”

  Tyler looked up at the golden halo that floated effortlessly above the café. It still puzzled him as to how the halo was attached; he couldn’t make out any wires or cables holding it in place. He took a final look at it before making his way to the front door, and automatically wiped his feet on the welcome mat provided. The mat was in the shape of angel wings with the phrase, “GOD LOVES YOU AND SO DO WE!” emblazoned around the bottom edge. He removed his baseball cap upon entering the café and looked around for an empty seat. The middle-aged waitress, who Tyler thought resembled the actress who played on re-runs of an old television show called “Hazel”, stood behind the counter and motioned him forward.

  “Take a load off, young man,” Bertie grinned and nodded toward the last empty stool at the counter. “Don’t worry none about a menu…you like grits? Cause that’s what we got for breakfast…cheese grits…all you can eat, along with all the fixings that come with it.”

  Tyler recognized the waitress as being the same one who had served him on Friday night. There was something about the way she looked directly at him when she spoke to him that made him squirm in his seat; he was sure that she was the type who could see through any bull of a story he might have thought to offer. He smiled back at her and said, “Yes ma’am, thank you…sounds good…I’ll take one of everything, I guess.”

  “Figured you would…” Bertie grinned again as she leaned across the counter and gave him a playful punch against his shoulder. “No need to beat around the bush either, ‘cause I know why you’re really here…but, you go ahead and eat first. Max will talk to you later when this crowd thins out some. You got some time to kill, don’t ya?”

  Tyler nodded and rubbed his shoulder. She had a pretty strong punch for such a little woman. He was momentarily speechless because she had caught him off-guard. Did she really know why he was here? He looked around the café and quickly recognized Doug as the man he had talked to on Sunday about Spartacus. He nodded at Doug and turned back to Bertie. “Yes, ma’am, I do…”

  “Good,” Bertie said. “That’s good…it’ll give us a chance to get to know one another a little better…”

  Tyler looked over Bertie’s shoulder, toward the partly-open kitchen area, and saw the largest black man he had ever seen in his life smiling back at him. He suddenly felt all the stress and tenseness that had imprisoned his body over the past few months evaporate into the air around him. He had not felt this peaceful since he first set out on his latest adventure to put an end to the Abbott’s dog-fighting establishment. He looked back at Bertie and sighed. “Yes, ma’am…it will…”

  7. Spartacus and Tyler Reunite

  It had taken longer than usual for the breakfast crowd to thin out, but Tyler had been patient. He had spent the last three hours eating the best breakfast he had had since leaving home a few months ago; in fact, the food at the Heavenly Grille Café was probably better than his mom’s cooking. However, he would be the last person to ever admit that to her.

  “You had better tell Bertie that you’ve had enough…else, she’ll keep loading that plate up over and over again until you literally burst…the woman doesn’t know the meaning of the word STOP”, Doug whispered as he stood behind Tyler. He sat the tray of dishes he had carried from a dirty table onto the counter and grinned at the young man who was sopping sausage gravy from his empty plate.

  Tyler choked on his last bite of biscuit and looked over his shoulder at the tall, muscular man who stood quietly behind him.

  Doug thumped him on the back. “Sorry…didn’t mean to sneak up on you like that.”

  Tyler shook his head and grinned. “It’s okay…I was so busy cleaning my plate I didn’t even realize that breakfast must be over. They must think I’m a glutton. I don’t usually eat this much food, especially in the mornings, but, well…damn…this is the best food I’ve had in a long, long time.”

  Doug took the young man’s offered hand and shook it firmly. “It’s good to see you again…Tyler Jones, right?”

  Tyler squirmed beneath the lie he had told Doug the day before, but he couldn’t take any chances that the truth might somehow get back to Little John. He didn’t want to think about the ensuing consequences if that were to ever happen. It would be bad for him, undoubtedly, but he knew that Little John would make sure that the dogs suffered, too…especially, if he ever found out about Tyler’s familial connection to Foster Farm. “It’s good to see you again, too…I’m sorry…I’m terrible with names…”

  “It’s Doug, and that’s okay. I wasn’t sure if you would really come back today or not.” Doug sat down on the empty stool beside Tyler and stared unabashedly at the young man.

  Tyler had the decency to flinch but felt compelled to return Doug’s imploring stare. He couldn’t explain why, but he suddenly had the feeling that his secret would be safe with this man. He also had the strangest feeling that he would end up telling these people the truth about his mission. Tyler finally nodded and said, “I…had to come back…I have to convince your boss to release Spartacus to me. How is he? Spartacus, I mean?”

  Doug grinned. He had liked this young man when he first met him, and he liked him even more now; but, it wasn’t up to him…it was Max’s decision. “You may not recognize him.”

  “Who?” Tyler asked.

  Doug grinned again. “Spartacus…oh, trust me, you’ll have no problem recognizing the boss. He’s the huge Gladiator in the kitchen.”

  Tyler glanced over to the open serving window that separated the kitche
n from the rest of the restaurant. He gulped without realizing it. “Yeah…I kind of thought that might be him. You’re right…I can almost picture him strutting around the Coliseum…”

  “Oh, you have no idea!” Doug laughed out loud now, which brought Bertie marching toward them.

  “There’s probably a few grits left in the pot, Tyler Jones,” she smiled and cocked her head sideways.

  Tyler got the impression that she was sizing him up and the only way to find out his true mission in life was to feed him bowls and bowls of cheese grits. He held up both hands in mock defense. “No, ma’am, thank you…I really couldn’t eat another bite.”

  Bertie pursed her lips together and continued to watch Tyler with an inquisitive look. “Hmmm…okay, then. Don’t forget the jar on the counter there…you can do your good deed for the day and help the Wooten family raise enough money to pay for George Wooten’s gall bladder surgery. They don’t have any insurance and I doubt if this silly thing they call Obama Care is gonna do a damn thing to help them with it.”

  Tyler reached into his back pocket for his wallet and took out a ten dollar bill. “Yes, ma’am, glad to help out.”

  Bertie nodded and moved toward the kitchen. She looked back and said, “Max will be ready to see you soon. Don’t you move, you hear?”

  Tyler nodded. “Yes, ma’am…I wouldn’t think of moving…”

  Doug waited until Bertie was in the kitchen with Max, and then burst out laughing. He patted Tyler on the shoulder and said, “Don’t worry…you’re certainly not the first person not to be able to say NO to that woman. Her name is Bertie, and, I wish I could say her bark is worse that her bite, but…I couldn’t really swear to that, so…”

  Max stepped out of the kitchen, wiping his massive black hands on the dish towel that was tucked inside his belt. He was smiling as he moved toward Doug and Tyler; he had been watching and listening to Tyler all morning, and had not picked up any threatening vibes about the young man. “Tyler Jones?” his deep voice reverberated throughout the almost-emptied café.