“I can’t find Down Diego!” Dymphna said frantically.
“Who?”
“My buck!”
“Your what?”
“My male goat!” Dymphna said. “He’s missing!”
Thud starting barking furiously.
“Not now, Thud,” Professor Johnson said sternly. “We have a crisis.”
“We do?” Dymphna said.
“Don’t we?”
“I hope not!”
Thud continued to bark. Dymphna watched him. He was focused on the roof of the barn and jumping as high as he could before collapsing on the ground. Dymphna looked up. Down Diego was on the roof, staring down at them.
My gosh! You are Lassie! thought Dymphna.
“How in hell did he get up there?” Professor Johnson asked.
“I have no idea. But how do we get him down?”
“I guess we go into town, get your phone back, and google it!”
“What if he falls in the meantime?” Dymphna asked.
The professor looked up at the goat. “He appears pretty sure-footed.”
“But it’s almost dark,” Dymphna said.
“Does that bother goats?”
“I don’t know.”
“I guess we’ll have to google that, too.”
“I’ll get my phone.”
Before they could head into town, Down Diego was suddenly in the yard with the other goats.
“I guess what goes up, must come down,” Professor Johnson said, as they stared at the goat.
Dymphna sighed and hurried the goats into the barn for the night. She gave Down Diego a pat on the head.
“Maybe I should have called you Houdini,” she said. “Goodnight, you guys.”
By the time she was back in the farmhouse, Thud was asleep in the living room. Dymphna saw a light outlining Professor Johnson’s door. She felt a mixture of relief and disappointment. As she walked to her room, Thud staggered to his feet and climbed into her bed. She fell asleep curled around Thud’s warm, wrinkled mass.
As soon as Wobble made his acerbic announcement that a new day had arrived, Dymphna awoke to find Thud already standing at the door. She dressed quickly. Time to collect eggs! As she closed the front door, Thud at her heels, she heard Professor Johnson turn on the shower.
Heat colored her cheeks.
Do not think about that man in the shower.
She walked resolutely to the barn. Wobble flew up to the top of the fence, letting Thud into the yard but keeping an eye on him.
The goats, Udderlee, Catterlee, Sarilee, and Down Diego, were let out of the barn. She was relieved to count all four of them—and happy that she could finally tell them all apart. Their white coats, black faces, and drooping black ears had made them almost indistinguishable at first—but little differences in their personalities made each one an individual. Udderlee was shy; Catterlee, with her brilliant, knowing eyes hiding under her crazy hairdo, was haughty (it was as if she knew she had the prettiest eyes); Sarilee was playful; and Down Diego was a watchful old man. They romped joyfully around the yard, stretching their little goat legs—or at least what you could see of their legs under their impressive long white coats.
Thud and Down Diego ran around the yard, engaging in some sort of animal tag. Dymphna was sure Thud thought the game was all in good fun. But the goat had such a serious face. She didn’t know him well enough to tell if he was chasing the dog or playing with him. She figured as long as neither got hurt, it was OK.
When Dymphna stepped back inside the farmhouse, Professor Johnson also appeared in the kitchen, fully dressed and cleanly shaven. He seemed preoccupied and was tucking his wire-rimmed glasses behind his ears, when he spotted Dymphna putting the berries she had collected into a bowl. He seemed surprised to see her.
“Ah!” he said, “You’re here.”
It’s my house.
“Yes,” she said. “I am.”
Why can’t I get better at this?
She started washing the berries in the sink for something to do. To make conversation, she said, “I was afraid to run the hot water. I’ve lived in old houses before and if you tried to run the water in the sink, the water in the shower would get cold.”
She concentrated on the berries as she realized this conversation pretty much said “I was thinking about you being in the shower,” which was not exactly what she had planned on projecting this morning.
“That was very kind of you,” he said.
Dymphna turned off the tap and looked at him. “May I ask you a question?”
“All right,” he said. “Although I may not have the answer.”
“Why don’t you ever smile?”
The professor frowned. “I don’t know. Do I never smile?”
“Pretty much never.”
“I guess I have nothing to smile about.”
Dymphna dried her hands on the dish towel hanging on a nail by the sink. She walked over and stood in front of him. He stared down at her. She turned and looked at the dog, who was staring at the two of them.
“Don’t look, Thud,” she said.
Standing on tiptoe, she put her arms around his neck, closed her eyes, and kissed him, praying that the kiss didn’t land off center. She wasn’t really very good at this sort of thing. She let herself off her toes, and slid her arms back down to her sides.
Professor Johnson smiled.
What am I doing? We don’t know anything about each other!
Thud barked.
They looked at the dog, who was scratching at the door. The mood in the little kitchen snapped like a ripe green bean, and Dymphna let the dog into the yard.
She knew that getting involved with Professor Johnson was not a good idea. If they had met any other time in any other place, they clearly would have no interest in each other. She wasn’t the type to start a relationship out of convenience, so she shouldn’t start now. On the one hand, six months seemed like forever, but on the other hand, they had to go back to the real world after that—and they would go back separately.
It was evident Professor Johnson was having the same thoughts. By the time she came back inside, she found him with his backpack already over his shoulder.
“If you’re completely sure you are out of danger,” he said, “perhaps it would be better if I stayed in town.”
“Of course.”
“But Thud should stay with you every night, if you would like a little extra security.”
“I’d like that,” Dymphna said.
By the time they headed into town, it was obvious that by mutual consent and fake amnesia, they had forgotten that he had kissed her and that she had kissed him.
They were even—the slate had been kissed clean.
CHAPTER 33
As Professor Johnson, Dymphna, and Thud made their way down the hill, they were greeted by the chuck wagon triangle clanging impressively. Powderkeg was alternately ringing it and calling out that the whole town was invited to breakfast.
“I wonder if Aunt Cleo knows about this?” Professor Johnson said.
As if in answer to his question, Cleo appeared in the doorway, threw her arms around Powderkeg, and kissed him. Professor Johnson and Dymphna stopped dead in their tracks. Not everyone in Fat Chance took the high road last night, apparently.
Inside the café, Powderkeg and Cleo had put all the tables end to end. The idea must have been to have the entire population of the town sitting at one long table; however, the fact that some of the tables were round, some square, some oblong, and all of varying heights, didn’t give it the symmetry that would land it in a Rustic Living magazine spread. Dymphna handed her basket of eggs to Cleo, who beamed at her.
“Good morning, Dymphna,” Cleo said. “These are just beautiful eggs. Thank you.”
Dymphna took a seat next to Polly, who was wearing considerably less makeup.
“Did I miss something?” Dymphna whispered to Polly.
“You might have,” Polly whispered back. “But I didn’
t. Good thing Old Bertha is a little deaf. Those two were at it all night.”
“Aren’t they a little old for that?” Dymphna asked, studying Cleo’s new featherweight step.
“No, they are not,” Old Bertha said, leaning across Polly to look Dymphna right in the eye. She turned to Polly. “And I’m not that deaf.”
Dymphna and Polly both giggled. Titan came by with a misshapen bowl of pastries. He offered the bowl to Dymphna. She took it and almost dropped it. The bowl must have weighed ten pounds. Titan caught it before it hit the floor.
“Oh, sorry,” Titan said. “I still have some bugs to work out of the design. I thought I might try making hand-forged tableware. I think I’d have a corner on the market.”
“I bet you would.” Dymphna grabbed a bear claw out of the bowl. She wondered if you’d have to have a bodybuilder accompany each bowl.
Polly took a muffin and bit into it before continuing her conspiratorial conversation with Dymphna. “So,” she whispered, “anything interesting happen up at the farm last night?”
“My buck got up on the roof.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Polly smiled, flashing a quick nod in the professor’s direction at the other end of the table.
“I know,” Dymphna said, following Polly’s gaze. “You asked if anything interesting happened.”
“Oh,” Polly said as enlightenment dawned. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. We’re both too mature to jump into something just because we’re trapped here.”
Dymphna was serving herself some eggs and it took her a moment to realize the conversation had ceased. She looked up as she passed the platter of eggs to see Polly and Wally exchanging smoldering glances across the table.
Polly snapped out of her trance as she took the platter of eggs. “What did you say?” she asked.
“Never mind,” Dymphna said.
Dymphna noticed one chair at the head of the table was empty, just as Pappy came through the doors.
Cleo jumped out of her chair and rushed to him. “I was wondering when you were going to show up,” she said, ushering him to the empty chair. “Sit down. I was just about to make a toast.”
By the look on his face, Pappy seemed as startled as the rest of the town by the change in Cleo’s behavior. He sat, flanked on one side by Rodney and on the other by Rock. Rock held out a fist. Pappy hesitantly made a fist and Rock bumped it. Dymphna could barely hear the conversation at that end of the table, but she could make out Rodney asking if their jurisdiction extended to Spoonerville.
“No,” Pappy said, buttering some bread. “Why?”
“We just thought we could kick some Spoonerville ass,” Rock said.
Rodney and Wally laughed, but Pappy looked at them sternly.
“You keep your noses clean,” he said.
The boys sobered up. Pappy seemed dead serious. None of them knew Pappy well, but this was a side they hadn’t seen before. Cleo, still in her own world, missed the exchange. She stood behind Pappy’s chair with a small juice glass and a spoon. She hit the glass with her spoon and the juice jumped with the chime.
“I’m so glad you could all join me here this morning,” Cleo said. “I just want to say how much we appreciate this dedicated man. Pappy, we are all so grateful for all your hard work. We came here a disorganized mess and look at us now! Without you, none of this would have been possible.”
Cleo held her glass up into the air, smiling all around the table. Dymphna could imagine Cleo giving this exact speech at Beverly Hills fundraising breakfasts a hundred times before. In stunned silence, the group clinked their glasses.
“Pappy,” Cleo said, “say a few words.”
She put down her glass and started applauding. The little assembly followed suit.
Pappy stood up. “Well, I don’t know why this is happening. I didn’t do anything special. But, as long as you’re all here, it’s as good a time as any to tell you. I’m leaving Fat Chance. So—thanks.”
Pappy pushed his chair back and started to the door. Dymphna thought he must be joking and it took a few seconds for the reality of Pappy’s little speech to hit home. Everyone jumped up at once, following Pappy outside. His suitcase was already on the sidewalk. As the group bombarded him with questions, he held up a meaty hand for silence.
“You can’t leave us just like that!” Old Bertha said.
“You’ll be fine,” Pappy said. “Wally, I’m leaving Jerry Lee in your care. Don’t you let anything happen to him or you can just head for the hills when you hear I’m coming back.”
“This is bull—” Wally started, but caught himself. “I don’t know anything about mules!”
“You’ll figure it out,” Pappy said. “You’re a nasty SOB, but you’re quick on your feet.”
“I really wish you would reconsider,” Cleo said, her voice quivering. “What will we do without you?”
“Well, little lady,” Pappy said, picking up his battered suitcase, “you’re about to find out.”
The group stood on the boardwalk and watched him until he disappeared around the bend in the trail leading out of Fat Chance.
PART THREE
CHAPTER 34
Pappy came back to town five months later, arriving as unceremoniously as he had left. Wally Wasabi was washing windows in front of his store, so he was the first to spot him coming down the trail.
Pappy was still wearing his hiking boots, but had reversed his attire. He had replaced the Hawaiian shorts and white T-shirt with white shorts and a Hawaiian shirt. With a begrudging nod to the cooler January weather, he’d added a blue hoodie. He wore a Panama hat over his long hair, which was tied back in a ponytail.
“You back?” Wally asked.
“Yep,” Pappy said. “How’s my mule?”
“Good,” Wally said.
“Good,” Pappy said.
Titan came running out of the forge. “I thought I heard a familiar voice!” Titan gave Pappy a bear hug, which Pappy tolerated.
Pappy looked at Titan’s wrist, which was sporting a leather brace laced up from fingers to elbow. “You hurt yourself?” he asked.
“Oh no,” Titan said. “Powderkeg made this for me. I’ve trained Fancy to use it. Come see!”
Pappy left his suitcase on the bench outside Wally’s store as Titan pulled him across Main Street to the forge.
“You got Fancy to fly?” Pappy said in a reverent tone.
“Of course not, silly,” Titan said. “She has a broken wing! But watch this!”
Fancy was sitting up on her wrought-iron perch. She peered at Pappy with her one eye, cocking her head sideways to get a better look at him.
“She’s so happy to see you!” Titan said. “She thinks you look very handsome in your new outfit, but she wonders where you’ve been all this time.”
“She’s one wordy bird,” Pappy said.
Titan realized he wasn’t going to get any answers and shifted gears. “OK, watch this!”
He held out his leather-bound wrist to Fancy and she climbed on his arm. He held Fancy aloft. “Ta-dah!”
“That’s it?” Pappy said.
“What do you want from a buzzard with a broken wing?” Titan sounded crestfallen.
Pappy looked around the forge. Titan had shelves stacked with hand-hammered bowls, trays, and utensils. Even more surprising, a support beam held at least a hundred nails, each one holding a pair of earrings. Some of the earrings were made of metal, but at least half of them were combinations of metal and beads, lace, or feathers.
“I’ve been working on jewelry with Polly,” Titan said proudly, setting Fancy back on her perch. “We’re selling them at the store over in Spoonerville.”
“In Spoonerville?” Pappy’s eyebrows shot up so high, his hat almost fell off.
“Yeah. Dymphna convinced us we needed to make nice over there if we were going to survive over here. The twins agreed to go back to the bowling league—I think they were looking for an excuse to go back to the game anyway—and th
at was pretty much all it took. We never did convince a delivery company to bring stuff here, but now we just have our Internet orders sent to Spoonerville. It’s working out just fine!”
“Maybe it’s good that I left,” Pappy said.
“Oh, that’s not what I meant, you big grouch. Anyway, Powderkeg wants me to work on some belt buckles, but I haven’t had much luck with a design yet. My friend Maurice says—”
“Hmmm,” Pappy said, cutting him off and picking up a pair of silver earrings with turquoise stones in the middle. “I’ll take these. Put them on my tab.”
Pappy put the earrings in his shirt pocket.
“You don’t have a tab,” Titan called as Pappy walked out the front door.
Once his eyes adjusted to the sunlight outside the forge, Pappy noticed a carved sign nailed to the right side of the forge’s entrance: Titan’s Treasures. Pappy bent to examine it. If he had to guess, he would say that, while the name was pure Titan, the workmanship was all Powderkeg.
While the inhabitants of Fat Chance weren’t putting the town on the map, they were clearly making a go of things.
Pappy looked down Main Street and saw the difference that five months had brought about. Someone had replaced the broken or warped slats on the boardwalk and cleared the stacks of tumbleweeds that had huddled in the corners of every crevice. Most noticeable were the hand-carved signs over each building. More of Powderkeg’s handiwork? Pappy walked down the boardwalk. Looking up at each wooden sign, he noticed that the workmanship got better with each one. Wally’s simple Groceries, Powderkeg’s own Carpenter, the Jail, Bank, and City Hall signs gave way to the more ornate Cleo’s Café, The Boozehound, and Polly’s Tops, Hats & Tails. Pappy couldn’t make out the carving on Old Bertha’s inn, but a sign clearly hung over the porch there as well. Frankly, Pappy thought that the Bank sign took away from the calligraphy on the front window, but nobody had asked him. In all fairness, he hadn’t been here to ask.
One of the twins came out of the jail.
Pappy was as surprised to see him as he was to see Pappy.
Is this Rodney or Rock?
“What are you doing here?” Pappy and the twin asked simultaneously.
Welcome to Fat Chance, Texas Page 19