“I got her!” Hazel started pacing the room, all wild-eyed. “I seen something on the Internet once said all you got to do is put a fresh-pulled tooth under your pillow before you hit the hay, and then when you wake up you’ll have good luck and something great will happen to you!” Hazel was wired. He looked anxiously around the room. “Don’t y’all see? Then all you got to do is just go buy some lottery tickets!”
This floated down to the assembled group of trail-hardened marsupial wranglers who issued a few contemplative grunts. All eyes went to Taco Bob.
“Hazel, this all sounds a mite flaky and somehow familiar to me. Any of y’all ever hear of an old tradition known as the tooth fairy? A notion that flourished for several generations in much of North America?” Every man in the room was thinking hard, but only shrugs and shaking heads came of it. An exasperated Taco Bob did some head shaking of his own. But Hazel remained unfazed and eager.
“So what you think, TB? We can at least try it, huh? Maybe we’ll get lucky and rich and can throw Doc the biggest Bull Moose party ever!”
This got everyone fired up again. Taco Bob was still skeptical. He took a cursory glance at what now looked like a room full of kids on Christmas Eve. He was used to Hazel’s wild ideas and had learned how to talk him down without hurting his feelings, but now he had a whole room full of feelings he was trying not to hurt. He decided to see how much they’d thought this scheme through.
“So how many of you boys got some teeth you’re willing to part with anyhow?” Everybody just kind of looked down at the floor like they were thinking about it real hard.
Hop had the kitchen cleaned up from the latest epicurean event and picked that moment to materialize at the doorway. The man was known to dabble in horticulture and had a locked greenhouse full of prized poppies out back. He stood there with a big, yellow-toothed, opium grin. Everybody stared at Hop, who kept on smiling and came up with a passable Robert De Niro.
“You White Devils looking at me?”
He reached his hand down in his apron and pulled out just a little bit of the handle of a big knife. Everybody went back to looking at the floor and pondering. Hazel sat down, but jumped up again.
“Hey, it didn’t say it had to be a tooth from a person! Maybe it just has to be a tooth about the same size!”
This wouldn’t have been much of an idea from anyone else, but it was a bell-ringer for Hazel. There was a lot of agreeing and feet shuffling and a fresh round of floor pondering.
Somewhere along in the proceedings they decided to have a little drink, and pretty soon a plan started to take shape. One-Eyed Pete started getting into it.
“Possum teeth is way too small.” This brought out some confirmatory grunts and murmurings. “And there ain’t no dogs around here any more.” Several frowns lightened and even a snicker-snort or two got loose. “And them coyotes is too darn hard to catch.” This statement brought out a round of whole-hearted agreeing. “But, you know what we got? We got plenty of sleepy old gators!” Heads popped up smiling. Everybody nodded enthusiastically, and the bottle started another trip around the room.
“How about it, Taco Bob? Think it would be okay if we went and got us a few gator teeth so we could all get rich?”
Taco Bob looked at all the hopeful, expectant faces staring at him and decided those gators were mighty tough and would likely be all right if they lost a tooth or two.
Having got that figured out, it didn’t take but a few more minutes and the rest of the bottle for everybody to decide that there was no time like the present, and everybody ran off to get ready – ‘ready’ in this case consisted mostly of finding a big pair of pliers and getting more liquor and a few snacks.
Taco Bob went out to the gator ponds with his men. He was hesitant at first, but before long he got caught up in the excitement and joined in. Two hours later they were all beat, bruised, and covered in mud and gator shit. A meeting was called right there beside a gator pond.
“Maybe we don’t need us a tooth for each person. Maybe just one big tooth would be enough for everybody to have luck!”
This struck everyone as quite a profound statement: one, because it had come from Hazel; and two, because a full two hours of the men’s combined efforts at reptilian dentistry had yielded only one tooth. But it was a big one.
Everybody got cleaned up and decided Hazel should put the tooth under his pillow right away. Hazel was proud to be the keeper of the tooth and got himself squared away and into bed. Everybody came by to check on the man with the odd name to make sure he had the tooth in the right place and see if he needed anything. They even offered to read a story to help him sleep.
That evening – after the wranglers got out of bed, ready for another night of riding the range – they put all their money together and Pete drove Hazel into town to buy a bunch of lottery tickets so they could all get rich.
When those two got back from town and showed all the lottery tickets they had, everybody spent the rest of the night daydreaming about piles of cash while herding possums and doing their chores.
∨ Possum Surprise ∧
8
The Texas Lottery
The big drawing was the following evening, so nobody got much sleep the next day, except Hazel.
The possum ranchers decided that Hazel should sleep with the tooth under his pillow again just to be on the safe side. Hazel said he might sleep a little better if he had his pet chicken tucked in with him, so one of the boys brought it in. They gave it a little plate with some feed and a water dish, then set a roll of paper towels next to Hazel’s pillow in case his chicken had any accidents. Then the boys gathered around Hazel – who was lying there in his bed all smiling and contented, holding his chicken – and read him a nice bedtime story about a red hen that went to town and won the lottery. After that the boys sang some old possum-rancher songs real soft until Hazel and his chicken drifted peacefully off to sleep.
♦
Late that afternoon, after they all got up, it was decided it might be best to go into town for the lottery drawing so they’d already be there to collect the money when they won. The boys were a little upset because it seemed Hazel had set the lottery tickets on his bed sometime during the day and his chicken had pecked a few pretty bad.
They got to town and hung around the front of Pedro’s. Hazel asked Horse for the time so often that the big man finally put his wristwatch on Hazel to shut him up. It worked – Hazel just sat down and stared at the watch.
Doc’s place across the street was quiet. Jones was supposed to be sharing a store-bought cigarette with Mumbles but somehow ended up with just the filter. He threw it in the dusty street.
“Doc over in California, Taco Bob?”
“I reckon. Should be gone a few days at least from what he said.”
“Where’s that realtor sign was in the front yard?”
Taco Bob smiled a little and glanced up from his crossword book.
“Damned if I know. Maybe the wind blew it away.”
As often happens in cases of impending wealth, expectations ran higher the closer it got to lottery drawing time. More than one man looked long and hard down the street towards Hummer’s while the expected amount of the windfall continued to rise in the conversations. Taco Bob felt a pull on his shirtsleeve.
“Mnm mhn mm!”
“Now, Mumbles. You know all that money’s got to go towards Doc’s party.”
“Mmn mhn mmnh?”
“Well, maybe if it’s over a million we could stop by Hummer’s, for a short one.”
This had everyone snickering and even more excited.
Knowing a portion of any money coming into Possum Row would sooner or later end up in his cash register, Pedro was happy to put the Texas State Lottery drawing on the store’s vintage black and white TV.
The possum ranchers had the tickets all laid out on a table so they could keep track of how much they were winning. Time crawled, but the little TV finally got around to the drawing.
>
♦
Out of the $986 dollars spent on lottery tickets, they won $42. There were a couple of tickets that the chicken had tore up that looked like they might have had some of the right numbers, but they really couldn’t tell.
It was a mighty unhappy group of possum ranchers leaving town that evening. After buying some gas for the van, they had just enough money left for a quick stop at Old Man Jennings’ place for a jug of his locally famous moonshine. By the time they were heading on home, it was getting dark and the ‘shine was starting to help relieve the pain of recent events.
They were about halfway to the ranch – passing the jug and feeling better by the minute – when Hazel, who was driving, cut a really loud fart which he thought at the time was hilarious. He threw his head back laughing.
This was not the best place to be taking your eyes off the road, however, since they were coming up on Dead Man’s Curve.
Deputy Raddick had just pulled his police car over and was standing to the side taking a leak when the big van full of screaming possum ranchers came around the curve. They hit the cop car broadside before coming to a stop a hundred yards down the road. Totaled both vehicles, but luckily nobody got hurt.
Deputy John had somehow got the front of his pants real wet and mostly sat in his wrecked car with a jacket on his lap after the other cops showed up. Some tow trucks came by and hauled the van and cop car off to the junkyard, and Hazel got hauled off to jail.
After giving the possum ranchers a big lecture, the cops left them to walk the rest of the way home in the dark. This wouldn’t have been so bad except the jug got smashed in the wreck.
They’d hoofed it a mile or so along the dark, lonely road when a truck came along. They were sure hoping for a ride back to the ranch, since they’d been too excited to eat all day and were more than ready to go check out some of Hop’s fine cooking.
Turned out the guy driving the truck was someone they knew only too well.
Skunk Johnson didn’t have to roll down the window of his pickup – it hadn’t had any window glass for years. Or brakes. But Skunk finally got the rusty old truck to stop by repeatedly stomping the squealing brakes, grinding reverse, and throwing out a concrete block on a rope. He grinned big at the woeful assembly beside the road.
“Well, lookee here! Somebody done throwed out a whole bunch of perfectly good possum wranglers!” He motioned to his cousin Mumbles to hand his concrete anchor back. “Y’all out for a li’l evening stroll, are ya?”
They started to recap the days events. Skunk took a slash off a bottle in between his gales of laughter. The laughter stopped when he got the concrete block dropped in his lap.
“Mnm mhn m! Mmnh mm!”
This insult drew a quick retort from Skunk, and before long the two cousins were screaming in each other’s faces.
Since they’d heard it all before from these two, several of the tired men made to get in the back of the pickup. But, before they could clamber in, Skunk popped the clutch and the old pickup lurched ahead. Horse grabbed the tailgate, intending to hold fast so the others could load up – but something broke with a clank. Horse had the rusty gate and right rear fender in his hands but the rest of the truck was leaving. Mumbles was running after the truck but losing ground while he and Skunk continued trading unkind comments pertaining to one another’s sexual preferences and family history.
The others soon caught up with Mumbles and together they watched the remaining taillight slowly disappear into the darkness, Skunk still yelling. Taco Bob tried to get spirits up.
“Well, except for the skeeters, it is a nice evening for a leisurely walk.” Five minutes later it was raining.
♦
By the time they got back to the ranch, Skunk had already stopped by to tell Hop they’d lost all the money and wrecked the van. Hop threw their dinner to the livestock and then nodded out in his room for the evening.
After taking stock of the situation at hand, Taco Bob had only one idea.
“I don’t know about the rest of y’all, but a big bowl of chicken soup would sure hit the spot about now.”
One of the boys just happened to come up with a real fresh chicken, the only chicken on the ranch, and before long a big pot of chicken-vegetable soup was aromatically simmering on the stove. It wasn’t the best soup they’d ever had, but it was definitely one of your more satisfying meals.
∨ Possum Surprise ∧
9
Dawn
Janie woke again, this time to the reality she found herself in the most often. In this world her body was slower and couldn’t even fly. It also felt pain if injured or needed food.
After a good stretch she sat up in the old chicken coop, one of the few buildings still standing on an abandoned ranch outside Possum Row. She set about planning her next move and then the one after that. But soon she was just thinking about food. She found half a tortilla in her secret hiding place. She would go watch the long, gray ground near the town later to see if there were any offerings. If not, she would hunt. Even as slow as her body was here, there were plenty of things she could outrun, and those she couldn’t outrun she seldom missed with a rock. The thought of roasted rabbit to go with the tortilla made her stomach growl. She ate the tortilla slowly and in small bites to make it last, just like Grandmother had taught her.
She missed Grandmother greatly. Before the old woman had died she told Janie many things. Too many things for Janie to remember – after all, she was just a child of only eleven summers. But she remembered some of the things Grandmother told her about her ancestors, the ones who became known as People of the Mountain.
Though once part of a great civilization, her people’s numbers and spirit were decimated by the usual violence and sickness resulting from foreigners. A small group of old people and a few youths had gone to the mountains to keep the old ways and avoid the invaders. Several generations later Janie was born.
There were many foreigners by then, a few even came to the mountains. Whether the visitors’ intentions were good or bad, the result was usually fewer of her people. Finally it was just Grandmother and Janie.
Grandmother taught Janie. The thin girl learned how to survive in the world of wild things, and also how to read. One of the foreigners who’d stayed with her people before Janie was born had sent a book several years later. Her mother was dead by then, and another visitor helped Janie read the book. The visitor told her things as well, including that she was different. Not only did Janie have skin and a face similar to the visitors – but she was also thought to be somewhat insane.
When Grandmother stopped living, foreigners came and took Janie to the city. They gave her to people who beat her and worse, so she ran.
She found the book in its hiding place back in the deserted mountains. Alone, she fasted and read the book for days. The book told a story, but the last few pages had never made any sense to her. Then during her fast she realized those pages were not part of the story, but were a guide – a map to a power place.
Janie remembered that Grandmother had told her once of an old man, one of her people, who’d gone on a vision quest and never returned. The small but determined girl left the next day with only the book, to find the power place or maybe the old man. Maybe both. She didn’t know whether to believe the people who said she was crazy. Maybe it was just because her mind was never completely asleep, and sometimes when she was in another world her body would be awkward and dopey.
But crazy or not, the wild girl did know that she would die someday, and decided it might as well be in the power place. If that place couldn’t be found in the world of hunger where people couldn’t even fly, then she would try to find it in one of the worlds of her dreams, since the book itself was a book of dreaming.
∨ Possum Surprise ∧
10
The Tournament
The day after the lottery, Skunk stopped by the possum ranch looking for the missing parts to his truck. Horse hadn’t wanted to litter the side of the r
oad and had carried the tailgate and fender back to the ranch. Some bailing wire, duct tape, and one fistfight with Mumbles had Skunk and his truck back to normal. Mumbles was still mad though, so after whipping the tar out of his cousin he told the full story of the lottery and Doc so Skunk would really feel bad.
And he did. Despite his unusual name and unkempt appearance, Skunk was actually a pretty decent person, when sober. Like everyone else, Skunk liked the hell out of Doc, and when he learned of the plans for Doc’s party he wanted to help. He joined the men in the house for their next late afternoon strategy session. Skunk stood by the fireplace looking embarrassed.
“I wanted to apologize to y’all for not giving ya a ride last night. I didn’t realize y’all’d been playing the lottery trying to get some money so’s to throw a party for ol’ Doc.”
Everybody just grumbled some and most resumed their ongoing examination of floorboards. Taco Bob grumbled some as well, then addressed the assembled downtrodden.
“Well, now we got even less money than before, and we still need to bail Hazel out of jail.” Some minor feet shuffling ensued. “The good news is we still got a few days till Doc is due back. Anybody got any sure-fire ideas for making a pile of money real quick?” Several hands shot up from the seated wranglers. “And preferably legal?” The hands all slowly came back down. Those not studying the floor were focused on their fingernails or shoes like they’d never seen them before. A couple of the men looked up at the ceiling and gave probing scratches to chin stubble. Taco Bob was about to mention the last resort, the one thing everyone in the room knew about, but no one wanted to be the one to bring up: getting real jobs in town for a few days. But before he could, Skunk cleared his throat.
“Well, I seen on TV there’s a big amateur fishing tournament coming up day after tomorrow in Georgia. Maybe we could take a ride over there and show them Georgia boys how us Texans can catch bass.” This got a few looks of mild interest. “They usually got some fine prizes – boats, tackle, cash, and such.”
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