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“Are you sure he’s back?”

“Yeah, I saw his camper parked in front of his house this morning.”

“So where is he? It’s getting late and a lot of us have a long way home.”

“Jackie’s Cold Day Inn” had near a full house tonight, everyone wanting to be there when Sheriff Tom came back from a wedding in Balmorhea. His friend, also a Sheriff, invited him to his only daughter’s wedding.

I happened to be there doing my usual route selling farm equipment up and down the Texas panhandle. Jackie had reserved a seat for Sheriff Tom and, surprisingly, one for me right next to it. Good thing, too. When I got there every table, chair, and barstool was occupied.

Wendy led me to my seat and brought my usual Jack on the rocks, smiling as she always did, like she’d been waiting all day just to see me and nobody else.

“Tell me something, Wendy. What’s going on? Something happen in Balmorhea?”

“Well, I guess you’ll know when he gets here. I think Jackie’d be better to tell you. I’ll tell her you’re asking.”

 

“Not much to tell yet,” Jackie said as she sat down with a fresh drink. “Tom and his Sheriff buddy, Max, go back a long time. When his daughter’s wedding came up he invited Tom and half a dozen other Sheriffs.

“Tom and his friends have been in law enforcement for a lotta years. That kind of work they get to see the worst and best in people. Lord knows how they bear it, but they do. Seems they’re on sentry duty 24/7 even when they’re home in bed. But they get together with their own kind they tell some pretty good yarns. It’s not ‘til it gets late that they talk about the really bad stuff they seen, you know, the stuff they never talk about to you and me.”

“You’re saying everybody’s waiting on Tom to tell the stories he heard at the wedding?”

“Pretty much. You know how it is in small towns; stories get repeated, get stale pretty fast. Guy like you hears a lot of ‘em. Sometimes you pass ‘em on, sometimes you don’t if you’ve heard it more’n twice on one trip. Like the one when the preacher’s wife put a note on the bulletin board.”

I remembered the story and laughed. “You mean the one where she wrote ‘One Night Stand, $20’?”

“It’s old but still funny. If you look her in the eye she still blushes. Oh! There’s Tom. Wendy, he’s here.”

Tom took his seat while Wendy weaved her way over with his drink.

He nodded thank you to both women, took a sip and scrunched his eyes.

“It’s good to be back. Six hours drive time, got in last night and I still have flat butt. What’s up, Jackie? It’s not two for one night.”

“Don’t be a jackass, Tom. We wanna hear about the wedding. You get eight Sheriffs in one place, somebody’s bound to get silly. Give it up.”

“The wedding wasn’t anything special. Max walked his girl up to the groom and the preacher, they said their I do’s and it was over. Had a few laughs. We all got drunk, of course. The other guys had their deputies drive ‘em home. They took my keys and I spent the night on a cot in Max’s jail."

He stood up, spread his arms wide and said, "I’m back, safe and sound so y’all can go home now. And thank you for waitin’ on me.”

 

Miles and miles of Texas

He took another sip and scanned the room smiling ‘til he saw Jackie glaring at him.

“Well, I’ll tell you there was about 200 people there. Sheriffs from Odessa, Hobbs, Monahans, Hiram from Wichita Falls, other guys. 

"Ole Hiram’s about to retire, gotta be 75 years old. Time to go. Just about busted a gut telling us about a rancher from Monahans and his truck and how he got it back better than when it got stolen. Seems like the guy’s truck broke down on the way to town. He couldn’t start it so he hitched a ride thinking to tow it the next day. But before he could do that somebody got it started and drove off. Well, it was an old truck anyway, hundred things not working right so in a way he counted that as a blessing. Trouble was he didn’t have enough money to buy another one.

“Three, four months go by and he still didn’t have enough money. Then Hiram, calls and tells him they’ve recovered his truck, pick it up at the impound lot.

“So he goes to get it, gets the keys but something’s not right. Now he drove that truck for 17 years and knows every rattle and groan in that thing. He remembers that the passenger window crank didn’t work, but this one did. The turn signals were reversed so if he wanted to signal left, he had to pull the lever for right, but this one worked. And so on. Everything that was wrong before was fixed. New brakes, new front tires, both windshield wipers worked. Even the dome light lit when he opened the door. He got in and right off he knew for sure it was his truck. Seventeen years of driving had formed the seat to fit his butt just right. Sat there a minute, closed his eyes. It was his truck, yes indeed.”

A little paint, she's good as new

Tom paused and looked at his empty glass. He waited until Wendy hurried over with a fresh drink.

“Bring the bottle and leave it, Sweetheart. I hear Jackie’s picking up my tab tonight.”

Jackie did the numbers in her head. “Finish this story or it’s full price, Tom.”

“Okay, Jackie, I hear ya.

“Well, he starts for home, turning on to the highway the Deputy Sheriff gives him a ticket for improper signaling on a turn. He tried to explain about the turn signals but it still got him a $25 fine. Figuring he’s not coming all the way back from Monahans to pay it he goes to the courthouse, pays the fine and starts for home again. Six miles down the 82 a State Trooper pulls him over for speeding, 70 in a 55 zone. He tried to explain about the truck getting stolen and the speedometer being off kilter but the trooper’s heard it all before and tickets him $90. So back to the courthouse he goes, pays the fine.

And this one is for telling me a story I heard before

“He finally makes it to Monahans, stops at his watering hole to tell his buddies the story and his truck gets stolen while he’s inside having some cold ones. Hasn’t been found yet.”

A voice from the back asked, “That guy that stole the truck, was his name Buckaloo? Thad Buckaloo? If it was, he’s my cousin. The Sheriff arrested him but the truck was wrecked. Had to trash it.”

“Matter a fact, that’s his name. Mr. Buckaloo gets around. His name came up a coupla times, different towns, different counties.”

Tom took a break and headed for the bathroom. Jackie topped off his glass and mine. Les grunted and tilted his glass at her. What the hell, she filled all the glasses at the table.

When Tom returned Les said he heard something about the Sheriff in Hobbs being in a bullfight.

“Was Sheriff García at the wedding? Did he really get in bullfight?”

“I’ll tell you, Les. Sheriff García’s been known to enlarge any story he tells, but the bones of the story are always true. He was at the wedding and also in a bullfight or something like it. He got his turn with Thad Buckaloo in a bull pen.

“Way he told it, a ranch wife reported a man she didn’t know was taking stuff out off the hay barn and loading it in his truck. She woulda shot ‘im but all she had was birdshot in her .22.

“García drives up and the guy takes off running into the fields towards the holding pens.  He hops some fences and winds up in a corral where the rancher’s keeping a bull.

“Hobbs is a fair sized city so the Sheriff's got six deputies do most of the leg work, meaning he’s not fit for going on any 5K runs for charity so he’s doing a slow chase as fast as his gut will let ‘im, but keeping an eye on the perp.

“The bull, name’s Thunder, is a three year old in his prime. The heifers he wants are in the next pen so you can figure he’s pissed about everything. Anyway, this bull’s really smart, has a history of never being caught at roundup for branding three years running. The rancher doesn’t want a bull that’s smarter than his cowhands so he tricks him into the holding pen, planning to sell him to a rodeo franchise outa Colorado.

He seems nice...

“Thunder sees the thief and charges but doesn’t ram ‘im, just gets real close, eyeball to eyeball. When the thief goes left, so does he. Goes right, bull goes right. If he tries to climb the fence, ole Thunder blows FIRE out his snout and makes like he’s gonna charge.

“García finally gets to the pen and he’s watching the bull and the man doing this back and forth. He said it looked like the bull was behavin’ like a cuttin’ horse, ‘cept in this case it was a cuttin’ bull keeping a man from escaping. Said if the bull had thumbs he coulda hog-tied the guy, won a prize.

“The thief sees García and he’s crying buckets, screaming get me outa here, get me outa here. He’s gonna kill me. García’s no fool. He opens the gate, takes a couple of steps into the corral and shouts out. Thunder turns towards the Sheriff and can’t decide which man to attack. He chooses García, but like I said, he’s slow footed and barely makes it out before Thunder smashes into the gate.

“The thief sees his chance and goes over the fence. Thunder’s circling the corral, tossing his head around, proud, looking for whoever is screaming on the other side of the fence.

“A man running for his life’s not likely to see danger ahead. He just looks to get away. Well, so happens when the thief goes over the six-foot fence he jumps into a pile of old barbwire and fence posts the cowhands left there. No matter which way he moves something sticks or cuts ‘im. It took EMS and two deputies cuttin’ wire for 40 minutes to get him out.”

That's no way to go through life, son

A guy at the next table said, “So if the bull wins it’s a Manfight?” His buddy pulled his hat down over his ears and the others tossed ice cubes at him.

The next few minutes was a jumble of a hundred people laughing and talking about Tom’s stories; Jackie, Tom, Les, and two others at the table, plus me just making small talk about nothing. Wendy found an empty stool, brought it our table and sat behind Tom and Jackie.

She said, “Sheriff Tom, tell us about the wedding. It had to be more than ‘I do’s’.”

“It was more than that but I’m at pains to tell it so it don’t sound bad because it wasn’t but you gotta know more about Max’s wife, Tina.”

The sound of Tom’s voice made everyone go quiet, people nearby shushing those behind them.

He began. “This is the last story I’ll tell tonight. I’m tired from the last four days and I need to get some sleep in my own bed with my own pillows.

“Folks, I know a lot of you want me to tell about the wedding. If I tell it like an outsider you might misunderstand so I’m going to tell you some things nobody would know unless he was there.

“When Sheriff Max called to invite me to the wedding he said, ‘Tom, something you should know that I’m telling all the others. It’s about Tina. We been married almost 40 years, had four sons before our daughter, Kathy, was born. We’ve had a good life that we would do over again if we could. We didn’t have a church wedding; no money, hard times back then. Tina often spoke about missing her chance to be a bride with bridesmaids, minister in his best duds speaking holy words about marriage, husbands, wives, love and honor, our duties to each other.

‘We had four sons and four weddings in which Tina was mother of the groom. Weddings are a bride’s day. The mother of the groom might as well stay home for all the participation she gets.”

I saw the women nodding at this fact and some of the men, too.

“’So he said, Tom, don’t be too hard on Tina. She’s gonna be ordering everybody around like a drill sergeant but just remember she’s been planning this wedding almost from the day we got married. Yes, it’s Kathy’s day, but it’s Tina’s day, too. Go easy on her. She deserves it.’

“Max was right about Tina taking charge. He said she spent six months making sure the church, the minister, the caters, the flower shop, the bakery, the bartenders, limo guys, tux rentals, dressmakers, photographers, printers, and the Country Club hall managers all understood that everything had to happen at an exact time, exact place, and EXACTLY as she laid out. And she kept checking on them, making double sure that everything was just like they agreed, no exceptions. It got so bad as the date grew closer, a few of ‘em thought about quittin’ but didn’t because it was Sheriff Max’s daughter.

“The day of the wedding she had place names in the pews so everybody would be where she said. Max’s Sheriff buddies were in the second row, bride’s side, lined up by height. I couldn’t believe she’d gone that far. By the time the dinner parties before the wedding were over everybody was more or less used to the military orderliness Tina imposed. Sheriffs are used to takin’ and givin’ orders so at the wedding reception, just standing around in a circle, drinkin’ and talkin’, they arranged themselves by height until Hiram noticed it and they changed the order only to wind up in order again but in the opposite way.

On my signal, say "I Do"

“But for all of that, the whole thing worked perfectly. Everything happened on schedule, everybody had a grand time, and the happy couple got in the limo, off to Gulf Coast for their honeymoon. Sheriff Max is sending me pictures. I’m getting’ ‘em next week.”

Tom paused to sip his drink.

Les said, “Tom, what about the happy couple? What did they think about Mom taking over everything?”

“Well, they weren’t immune to her planning either. She picked the wedding dress, the rings, the colors for the bridesmaids, the honeymoon hotel, everything. She even wrote the words for the minister and more but Kathy and her intended are pretty smart kids so they let it ride.

“Kathy and her fiancé had lived together at university for three years before they decided to marry. Kathy didn’t even want a formal wedding but it was for Mom so they did everything she asked. And Kathy knew her Mom would go half crazy planning her wedding. Her fiancé, Kathy, and her Dad agreed to let Mom manage everything the way she wanted. Don’t question, don’t object, just do what Momma says.

“Like I said, everything went perfect. By 10 o’clock it was over and everybody went home, worn out, ready for rest.

“Sometime around midnight, Max and Tina were at home asleep when the phone rang. It was Kathy. She wanted to talk to Mom.

“She said, ‘Hi, Mom. We’re in the bridal suite. We took off our clothes. We’re on the bed. Now what do we do?”

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