The Digging Fool

Digger

Panhandle, TX

Doc Walters stood under the air conditioner vent that was blowing cool air on his head and back, putting Rollie downwind.

“Rollie, there’s no broken bones in your toes and that’s the good news. The bad news is that you have an advanced case of bromidrosis.”

“How bad is it, Doc? Can you cure it?”

“Well, it’s not contagious and it is curable by simple means. Take this list to Les’s General Store. Mix the ingredients with hot water like it says on this paper. Put your feet in the bucket of solution for one hour for the next three days. Come see me then, I’ll have another look.”

Tim was waiting for Rollie in the waiting room. They were best friends, occasional handymen or laborers whenever they needed money. Rollie, now in his 40’s never had a steady job and that’s how he liked it, his natural inclination being to do what he wanted when he wanted. Tim was a younger version of Rollie, an orphan who had settled in Panhandle after finding life in big cities like Lubbock and Amarillo too stressful. If you needed help with anything involving manual labor you could usually find one of them where they lived in the small outbuilding behind “Jackie’s Cold Day Inn”.

If you are a certain age, the first time you meet Doc Walters he’ll remind you of the doctor in the old TV series, “Gunsmoke”, 60ish, unkempt salt and pepper hair, rimless eyeglasses low on his nose, tired eyes. Thirty years ago he had come to Panhandle to fill in temporarily for Doc Jennings who’d retired. He found that he liked it and stayed.

Doc handed Penny Rollie’s medical notes. She looked at the appointment log on computer monitor and said, “Miss Abby, it’s your turn. Just follow the doctor.”

And a dollar for the nice doctor

“How are you today, Miss Abby?” He checked her blood pressure, looked in her mouth and eyes with a little flashlight and found, as usual, nothing amiss in the 80 year old woman. She came in once a week just to sit in the waiting room and trade gossip with the other patients. She was always Doc’s last patient of the day even if she came to the office before anyone else. Doc would talk to her for a few minutes, tell her she was fit as a fiddle. She would pry a single dollar out of her reticule and press it into his hand. He would thank her, take her by the elbow and escort her to the front door, let her out, and lock it.

Penny was checking her eyebrows in the mirror of her compact, getting ready to leave. It was Friday and that meant she probably had a date. Doc wondered who her date would be tonight. She played the field as well as any girl her age, showing just enough interest to keep a guy coming back but not so much to make him think he was in the lead.

Doc made a note on Miss Abby’s chart closed the file and followed Penny out the back door.

Les and Sheriff Tom were already at their corner table at Jackie’s place when Doc came in to join them. It was a Friday night ritual for the trio.

Wendy came over and said, “Hi, Doc. What are you having today?”

“How about some chicken soup."

“We don't have that but we have a fifth of Wild Turkey. Won’t cure anything but you won’t care if you have enough of it.”

“Wild Turkey then, a double.”

Les said, “One day she’ll get tired of that joke and lay some chicken soup upside your head.”

Tom disagreed. “Nah, Wendy’ll go along with it. She’s too smart to get mad at anybody. I thought when she came out gay there’d be trouble with the young guys who were figuring they could land her before, or maybe she’d act different now her secret was out. But, nope. Didn’t happen. Wendy’s still Wendy. She’s got half them boys thinking she’s lying ‘cause there's a jealous ex-husband somewhere and the other half thinking that if she just gave them a chance, just one chance, they could ‘turn her’ normal.”

Les pulled a piece of paper from his shirt pocket and gave it to Doc. “Rollie and Tim came in this afternoon, said you told him to buy this stuff to cure his Ambidextrous? Epson salts, peppermint tea, baking soda, and talcum powder.”

“Rollie’s got bromidrosis” Doc said. “In fact everybody in Panhandle’s got it or will get it. Rollie’s got it worse than most.”

Tom scanned the bar, looking at everybody one at a time, looking for signs. “So it’s contagious?”

“No, Tom, bromidrosis is body odor. I saw Rollie in my office today. Got his toes jammed up under a boulder he and Tim were digging out at the graveyard. Played hell getting his boots off and when I did the smell was so powerful it made me forget about his normal BO, which is bad enough. I put on two pair of surgical gloves, one on top of the other, the stink was so bad. It’s like he’s been sleeping and working in his boots for years and never took ‘em off.

“Long story short, I told him to soak his feet with the stuff on the list, come back in a few days.”

Your feet and friends will thank you

Les rubbed his eyes like the thought of Rollie’s foot odor made them tear up. Tom downed his whiskey and called Wendy for another round.

He said, “Rollie and Tim, make a good pair. Only trouble ever had with ‘em been when they get too much money and drink it all at once. Give ‘em a job, they’ll do it and take what you give but one thing, you gotta be careful with Tim. I don’t remember who called him the “digging fool” first, but it’s stuck with ‘im."

Les leaned back in his chair and chuckled. “Newman”, he said.

Doc had heard about the digging fool but hadn’t bothered with knowing more until now. He leaned forward on his elbows and shot Tom a questioning look.

Tom said, “I tell you, Doc, it’s a story that tested my investigating abilities. I overheard Newman telling his part to the postmaster and I got curious, or nosy, as my wife would say. So I talked to Rollie, Newman and Tim at different times. Each of ‘em had their impressions of what happened. Les and I pondered on it for a long time, turning it over in our minds, throwing out stuff that didn’t fit ‘til we figured out what most likely happened.

“You know old man Newman's got that thousand acres of grazing land with a bunkhouse at the far end for the cowhands. Well, the day comes when the pit under the outhouse there was full up, and Newman being cheap as always, thought it cost too much to hire a backhoe to dig a new one. So he finds Rollie and Tim to dig it for him. Rollie turns him down but Tim jumps at it. He don’t care what the pay is, he wants the job. Digging is something he likes, guess because he can see the progress of his work, I don’t know what else.

“Newman shows him where he wants the hole near the old outhouse, and says he figures it will take the rest of the day and half of the next to dig it, so Tim can sleep in the bunkhouse, there’s cold beer and sandwiches in the cooler, be back tomorrow he says and leaves.

 

The Sears catalog is hanging on a nail to your left

“Tim can’t wait to get started almost pushing Newman into the truck. He paces out the dimensions and puts his shovel in the ground. Three foot down he hits caliche, or as you and me call it, goddamn caliche. Makes no difference to Tim, takes a pick axe to it and goes on.”

Tom paused to sip his whiskey, cleared his throat and continued. Les was back on his chair, legs out in front, arms crossed, nodding and smiling at the familiar story.

“Now, Doc, you know a pit for an outhouse don’t have to be too deep, six foot usually, eight foot if you got a lot of people using it. Newman’s only got two men to use it so it could be a bit shallow.

“I said Tim was a digging fool and I meant it. Les can back me up on it. You give him a digging job, he’ll work at it sunup to sundown. Anyway, Tim’s really wound up now he’s past the caliche to the hardpan. But he doesn’t stop at six foot or eight, keeps going, digging and digging down to eleven foot by sundown. Next morning he looks at the pit, goes down the ladder and starts digging some more. It’s sand now so digging’s easier and faster. About 20 foot down he hits water, not much but if he goes much deeper it’s not a pit anymore. It’s a well.

That hole won't dig itself

“Around noon, Newman drives up, he’s got Rollie with him so the three of them can lay the timbers and drag the outhouse over the new pit. Tim’s standing there, holding his shovel, looking proud like he’s a new daddy.

“He says, Mr. Newman, I got you a well just 20 foot down. Newman looks down and sees the water.

“He looks at Tim like he’s gonna kill ‘im, looks in the pit again and says, you dumb sonofabitch! This pit’s only 15 foot from the old shithouse. That water ain’t drinkable. You drink it, you get the holy shits and die. I ain’t paying for this. Matter a fact you gotta fill it in. Can’t have a horse or a steer fall in.”

Wendy came over and told the Sheriff that his dispatcher called, needed him at the office. He finished his drink in one gulp and stood up.

Doc looked disappointed. Tom said, “Sorry, Doc, I gotta go. Les can tell you the rest of it.”

Les cleared his throat once and then again. “Doc, I think I’m coming down with something maybe you can get me some chicken soup or Wild Turkey for it?” Doc grimaced but called out for Wendy.

Fresh drink in hand, Les said, “Tim and Newman got into it pretty good. Tim said he wouldn’t fill in the hole, arguing hard like it was a violation of his digger ethics or something. Just refused, didn’t care if he didn’t get paid. Call the Sheriff if you want, ain’t doing it.

“Rollie, he’s leaning against the truck watching the whole thing, staying out of it. He knows Tim ain’t a fighter and Newman’s too frail to do any harm. When they run out of words, he says he’ll fill in the hole for free if Newman pays Tim to dig another one. He’ll keep an eye on Tim, make sure he does it right. Now, where do you want the pit? Newman didn’t like it but at least filling the 20 foot hole wouldn’t cost him anything.

“Rollie made sure the new pit just six foot deep and Tim was done before sundown. They dragged the outhouse over the new hole and filled in the old pit.

“When Newman came back to see the work, he pulled some bills out his pocket, paid Tim what he owed, then maybe thinking he might need more work done in the future, paid Rollie, too.

“That’s the story. If I left something out Tom can fill you in. Right now I gotta go close up the store. Thanks for the drink, Doc. See you later.”

Doc stayed on thinking about Rollie and Tim, mostly about Tim. What made him the “digging fool”?  It couldn’t be money or gold. By all accounts, he didn’t care about those things. Maybe he found something valuable once, lost it, and something in his head got stuck – keep digging, keep digging until you find it.

He finished his drink, left a tip for Wendy and went home.