Slim Pickings in Fat Chance, Texas

by Bonaduce, Celia

  “Tips only?”

  “Tips only!”

  “And you’ll help clean up?”

  “I’ll help clean up,” Polly said. “And I’ll ask my new boyfriend to help too.”

  “Deal,” Fernando said.

  Polly and Fernando continued to get the Cowboy Food café ready for business as the smell of barbecue smoke traveled on the breeze.

  Pappy was proud of himself for finding Jerry Lee’s fedora. Last year, Polly had made hats for the mule and Thud for the first (and so far last) Fandango-Up in Fat Chance festival. When the whole thing went sour, with Dodge almost taking over Fat Chance, Thud getting bitten by the rattler, and everyone’s high spirits crashing into the earth, Pappy’s first inclination was to throw the hat in the trash. Jerry Lee didn’t have much use for a fedora and Pappy wasn’t one to keep mementos of the past. But these newcomers to Fat Chance had opened his eyes—to possibilities, to life. He saw how sweet Dymphna Pearl got a little farm to call her own; how Polly smashed down the emotional walls she’d been building and hiding behind since she was a child; how Powderkeg, who never took anything seriously, renewed his passion for his craft—and for his ex-wife; how Cleo found a surprising part of herself here, but ran from it; Professor Johnson, who took everything seriously, found love, even if he had to put that love on hold; Titan, whom Pappy had learned to love like a son, had come to town and given dignity to an old buzzard and sanctuary to a runaway bull, at possible—almost definite—peril to his own well-being. Pappy wanted to remember them.

  And of course, there was Old Bertha. He wasn’t sure what it was about the woman that tugged at his heart. She was about the most hostile person he’d ever met. Of course, people said that about him too. But she was a survivor and he admired that about her. She was driving him crazy with her mule questions, but he chalked that up to “be careful what you wish for.”

  Pappy decided that even if he added flowers to the hatband, the fedora would be too masculine for the dainty Patsy. Pappy was much more sentimental than he let on. He had kept not only Jerry Lee’s hat but also a few others Polly had made. Polly, along with the other townsfolk, had been so dispirited after their festival failure that the girl just threw them all away. Pappy couldn’t stand to see all her hard work go to waste. So he kept them. Besides, you never knew when a costume party might spring up in a ghost town.

  He checked to see what else he might have. There was a miniature straw boater that one of the rented mules had sported at the Fandango. Pappy carried the boater to the creek that ran behind the buildings. Spring wildflowers graced the banks of the stream. He thought he’d stick a few in the hatband before he attempted to convince Patsy to wear it. He wondered if this was a good day to present Patsy to Old Bertha. The looming grand opening of Cowboy Food had everyone busy and buzzing. But he’d been hiding the mule for an entire day, and keeping a secret in Fat Chance was almost impossible. He grabbed a fistful of flowers and shoved them in the headband of the tiny hat.

  “Check this out, little girl,” Pappy said as he showed the hat to Patsy, who peered over the fence at him.

  The mule let out a sound that was not a donkey’s bray or a horse’s nicker. It sounded more like a deep belly laugh. After somehow avoiding detection on his six-hour round trip to buy the mule and getting her down the trail unseen, were all his plans about to unravel? He looked around. His secret appeared safe.

  Patsy reached for the hat with her lips, ready to eat the flowers if not the whole hat. Pappy pulled the hat away from her and scratched her ears.

  “Not right now,” he said. “If you’re a good mule and stay quiet for just a little while longer, you can eat the flowers.” He looked around again, this time to make sure no one could hear him talking gibberish to a mule. Titan or Dymphna conversing with their animals was one thing. Pappy another.

  Pappy wondered if he should take Patsy inside, to keep her hidden—she was small enough—but thought the racket of her tiny hooves on the wood floors would be more of a giveaway than trying to keep her quiet in the privacy of his backyard.

  He headed back inside, stopping to look at the grapevines that climbed the arbor. The leaves were bright and abundant. Small clusters of green berries were starting to appear—the arbor would be full of grapes when the hot weather arrived. Pappy always enjoyed sitting in the shade of the arbor, breathing in the wine-scented breeze. With Fernando in town making brandy, maybe Pappy would finally make a bottle of wine or two.

  From her porch swing at the Creakside Inn, Old Bertha could see all of Main Street. She marveled at the number of people coming to town. She glimpsed friends like Mikie and enemies like Dodge Durham. She looked around for Titan, but saw that the forge’s front door was shuttered.

  I guess poor Titan saw Dodge Durham too.

  Old Bertha saw Tino weaving his way through the crowd, toward the trail that led to Dymphna’s farm.

  Where has he been lately? I haven’t seen him in town.

  She waved as Tino doffed his baseball cap. She noticed he didn’t put his hat back on, but ran his fingers through his hair as he climbed the hill.

  He wants to make a good impression.

  Old Bertha went back to people watching, the porch swing creaking lazily beneath her weight. Suddenly, she stopped swinging. She hoisted herself to her feet and looked into the crowd. She thought she saw . . .

  She squinted, trying to follow the slight figure who maddeningly appeared and disappeared into the crowd. Could it be? It was.

  Meriwether McMurphy was in Fat Chance.

  From her farm Dymphna could see and hear Main Street filling up. She and Thud were ready to head down into the crowd, but her animals seemed skittish as loud bursts of laughter floated up from town. The chickens had all retreated to their coop. The goats bleated nervously and hopped in and out of the barn. Dymphna thought she should hang around a while to calm them. Thud stared longingly down the hill.

  If ever a dog lived up to the term ‘party animal,’ it’s Thud.

  The only animal who seemed unaffected by all the commotion was Crash, who, in the last two days, had started flying—although “flying” might be an overstatement. He would flap his wings with wild abandon, race around the yard, fly a few feet and then, true to his name, crash back to earth. His frenzied leaps into the air looked somehow familiar. Dymphna worried that the duckling thought he was a chicken.

  Thud, who had fallen asleep, suddenly clambered to his feet, tail wagging fast as a whip, sniffing the air but remaining quiet. Dymphna looked up—and into Tino’s emerald-green eyes.

  Some watchdog. I could have used some warning!

  “Looks like I picked quite the day to make my grand entrance,” Tino said, entering the barnyard and petting Thud, who had leapt up to place his front paws onto the veterinarian’s shoulders. He turned his attention to the dog. “Hi, boy! You miss me?”

  Dymphna was happy for the chance to gather her thoughts. “You’re just in time for the barbecue,” she said.

  She wished she could think of something else to say. But everything that sprang to mind—Where have you been? What brought you back? How long are you staying? and What’s going on with us?—seemed vaguely inappropriate, since she really didn’t know this man well enough to demand answers. It was so frustrating. She didn’t know Professor Johnson well enough to demand answers either. Of course, he wasn’t showing up for another week, so maybe she’d have time to straighten out what was going on with Tino—if only in her own mind—before the professor arrived.

  Tino put Thud’s paws back on the ground. The sound of loud applause drifted up the hill. Tino and Dymphna turned and could just make out the sight of Fernando opening one of the smokers he’d placed on the dirt road, far enough from the dry-as-parchment boardwalk to keep the town safe.

  “Looks like the barbecue thing is going to be a hit,” Tino said.

  “I guess.” Dymphna hated every minute of this small talk, but wasn’t sure what to do about it.

  Suddenly
Crash took flight, and this time the flight took.

  Tino and Dymphna watched as Crash rose into the air and soared gracefully overhead. He disappeared over the hill in a flash. Dymphna waited, knowing she had to let the duckling be free if that’s what he wanted, but hoping against hope that he’d return.

  “Look at that,” Tino said, smiling. “You saved him, Dymphna. He’s flown away. Good for you!”

  Dymphna felt like she was going to cry. She looked at Tino, who smiled up at the sky, searching for the duckling. She knew that he hadn’t been around to bond with Crash as she had. But still she was amazed that he didn’t appear to be struggling with his professional detachment in the least.

  “I guess he got a better offer,” Dymphna said, turning away from Tino so he wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes. “He was such a sweet little . . .”

  More noise from town cut their conversation short.

  “Why are you still up here?” Tino said.

  “The animals are nervous. I just thought I’d stay with them.”

  Tino put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. “They’ll be fine. And you feel down about Crash,” he said gently. “Look, I know we’ve got a lot to talk about, but it looks like the party’s getting started. Let’s go down and have a good time.”

  As Professor Johnson navigated the highway the last few miles to Fat Chance, it occurred to him that he might not actually recognize the turnout if the Covered Volkswagen wasn’t there. When he started noticing landmarks, he also saw that the two-lane highway was lined with trucks. He slammed on the brakes when he saw the Covered Volkswagen in the turnout, sandwiched between a Chevy Tahoe and a Dodge Ram.

  “What in God’s name is going on?” Cleo said as the two of them got out of the Outback. “Do you think it’s a welcome-home party?”

  “It might be.” Professor Johnson gestured to all the vehicles. “Except we don’t know this many people.”

  Professor Johnson worried that the U-Haul was sticking out into the road, but as he looked down the highway, he saw cars and trucks parked in a zigzag pattern all the way around the bend.

  Cleo beamed, taking a huge breath. “It smells like someone is having a barbecue!”

  “Oh! That’s right,” Professor Johnson said. “Remember? Dymphna’s friend Fernando was planning on turning the café into a barbecue joint.”

  Cleo’s smile faded. “Oh yes,” she said, slinging her purse onto her shoulder and heading down the trail. “Well, we’ll just see about that.”

  As they turned the curve that offered the first glimpse of town, Professor Johnson and Cleo stopped mid-step. They stared at each other. Their sleepy little ghost town was buzzing with a carnival atmosphere. It even sounded like a carnival, as the tinkling from the player piano floated up to them. They could see the smokers set up in the street by the shuttered forge.

  “Have you heard anything about Titan leaving town?” Professor Johnson asked. “The forge looks all boarded up.”

  “No. Maybe the shop is just closed for the day. Titan must still be around. I think there’s a giant cow or a bull or something behind it.”

  “It’s a longhorn,” Professor Johnson said. “It’s the mascot of the University of Texas.”

  “Look who knows his football,” Cleo said, surprised.

  “I don’t. I know my universities.”

  “Everything looks very . . .” Cleo hesitated, looking down the hill again.

  “Different,” Professor Johnson added dismally.

  He realized how little he actually knew now about the everyday comings and goings of Fat Chance. Places changed. People changed. He felt much less confident than when he’d slammed the car door just a few minutes ago. A dust storm suddenly blew up in front of them. Cleo gasped as Professor Johnson was knocked to the ground. Even before the dust cleared, Cleo could see that Thud had managed to sniff out his owner, even above the scent of that ridiculous barbecue.

  CHAPTER 26

  Powderkeg and Mikie were making out in the carpentry shop. Mikie giggled. “You’re going to ruin my reputation,” she teased.

  “You have a reputation?” Powderkeg replied.

  “Yes, as a no-nonsense woman who loves barbecue so much that nothing and nobody will stand in her way.”

  “Then you’re right,” Powderkeg said between kisses. “I’m shooting your reputation all to hell.”

  “I thought you were one of the town ambassadors.” Mikie pushed him gently away. “Won’t you be missed?”

  Powderkeg looked out the large plate glass window that fronted Main Street. He looked at the crowd, eating, drinking, laughing. “Everyone seems to be getting along just fine without me.”

  He reached for her and she took a step back. He looked at her in confusion as she walked over to a sawhorse, dusted it off, and sat down.

  “Look, I know we’ve just been goofing around here,” she said, blushing.

  It was clear she had rehearsed this line to say to him—and even clearer that she was no actress. Her delivery was stilted and self-conscious. This was not territory she was used to treading.

  Powderkeg frowned. He had no idea where this was going. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at.” He leaned against a tool cabinet.

  “I just . . .” Mikie averted her eyes. “Look, Powderkeg, you know I kid around with the guys on the ranch. I’ve figured out how to be one of the boys.”

  “Not with me.”

  “Exactly. I’ve let my guard down with you. And . . . well . . . I know this is all fun and games, but . . .”

  “Hold on. I’m a little confused. Are you saying this is all fun and games for you or are you asking me if this is all fun and games for me?”

  “It’s very hard to be a woman pilot on a ranch,” Mikie said, switching gears. “Even in the twenty-first century, I can’t be whoring around.”

  Powderkeg felt as if someone had thrown cold water on him. “Is that what you’re doing?”

  “You tell me.”

  He looked at her. She hadn’t moved an inch since she sat on the sawhorse. She stared back at him with pleading eyes. He realized she was looking at him with apprehension—and with love.

  He looked right back at her.

  He was in love with her too.

  She stood up and walked over to him. She stroked his face. “From the look on your face, I guess I’m not just whoring around.”

  They kissed.

  “I’ll take you out for some barbecue now, if you want,” Powderkeg said, nuzzling her neck.

  “In a few minutes,” Mikie whispered. “I kind of like the smokin’ atmosphere in here.”

  Pappy’s enormous plate threatened to topple as he looked for a place to sit. Heaping portions of hot links, baked beans, and macaroni and cheese vied for space with stewed tomatoes that Fernando had made from Dymphna’s stocked bounty. Seeing no tables available, Pappy sat on the edge of the boardwalk in front of the Boozehound Saloon. A shadow passed over him. He looked up to see Polly smiling down on him, a pitcher of lemonade in one hand, a glass in the other.

  “Want some lemonade, Pappy?” Polly beamed.

  Without waiting for an answer, she poured a glass. She sat on the edge of the boardwalk as she handed it to him. They surveyed the crowd together.

  “This is awesome, isn’t it?” Polly said. “Fernando is amazing.”

  Pappy nodded, his mouth too full to answer.

  Two cowboys walked by on Main Street, tipping their cowboy hats to Polly. She smiled at them as they passed.

  “Seriously, Pappy, I haven’t seen this many men since I used to go to the firemen’s parade with my dad.” She watched men lining up for more brisket at one of the smokers. “Here comes another hottie.”

  Pappy looked up and almost choked as he saw the young man walking toward them. It was Hank, Meriwether McMurphy’s new helper, and he wasn’t alone.

  “Crap,” he said under his breath.

  Meriwether had seen him. Pappy put his plate down and wiped off h
is hands on his Hawaiian shorts.

  “Meriwether,” he said. “Glad you could join us.”

  “It wasn’t my idea,” Meriwether groused. “It was Hank’s.”

  “Now I wouldn’t say . . .” Hank started, but Meriwether silenced him with a look.

  Polly stared at the older woman and wondered, was it possible that Old Bertha was right? Was Meriwether playing hard to get?

  “Hi,” Polly said, more to Hank than to Meriwether. “I’m Polly. Welcome to Fat Chance.”

  Fernando’s voice cut into the conversation. “Polly, I need you to turn the links,” he called.

  Polly turned to see Fernando going into the Cowboy Food café. He pointed at the smoker that held the links. The top was down.

  “There’s no way I can get that lid open by myself, Fernando,” she called.

  “Then get somebody to help you,” he yelled back.

  Polly caught Fernando’s eye—he winked at her.

  Fernando is the best!

  “I’d be happy to help you, ma’am,” Hank said shyly. Turning to Meriwether, he added, “If that’s all right with you, Ms. McMurphy.”

  “Help me up onto the boardwalk,” Meriwether said, “and then you can go ahead.”

  Hank lifted a surprised Meriwether up by her underarms and set her on the boardwalk, sitting, like a doll, next to Pappy. Hank looked at Polly. She jerked her head, indicating he should follow her. Pappy and Meriwether watched them disappear into the crowd.

  Titan wasn’t sure how to comfort Fancy, who was clearly upset by all the noise outside the forge. She stalked the floor, climbed up and down her tree, and hid in the recesses of the smithy. Titan wished he could calm her, but even if he could make her understand that all of the people outside would eventually be going away, he’d have to let her know that he’d be going away too. The thought of living on the Rolling Fork Ranch was tough enough without thinking about losing Fancy too. But he knew he couldn’t safely take the buzzard out of Fat Chance. A working ranch was no place for a wounded animal. He looked out back and saw Rocket. The longhorn was more used to people than Fancy was and just slurped contentedly from the trough.