THIS IS PART ONE.
PART TWO IS TITLED "DON'T WORRY ABOUT HIM. HE FIGHTS LIKE A GIRL."
Steve snorted, made an hourglass shape with his hands and said, “So, what was the rest of her like?” One second later he was on his back holding his bloody nose with both hands.
“If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes I wouldn’t believe it was Milo who’d decked Steve like that. For one, Steve’s got 40 pounds and 10 years on ‘im. For another, Milo’s the kind that shoos flies insteada squashing ‘em.”
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| You can stay as long as you mind your manners |
Sheriff Tom, Les, and Doc Harris and I occupy the same table whenever I visit Panhandle but today I was alone. My drinking pals would show up later. They always did. Jackie brought me another bourbon, a beer for herself and sat across from me.
She saw the question on my face and said, “Yep, that Milo, the guy owns the craft store where you can buy knittin’ needles, yarn, face paint for the kids, any kinda art supplies. He gave Steve a pretty good shiner and a busted nose. You bet he was surprised but no more ‘n the rest of us. We all stood up and Steve bailed, probly thinking we’d back Milo, Steve being who he is. You know, there’s people who are a pain in the ass. And there’s people who are just assholes. Steve’s an asshole. Got what was comin’ to ‘im in my opinion.
“It happened last Friday. Milo’s not a regular, comes in once in a while, has drink or two and goes home. Wendy found out it was his birthday so we invited him to a party. He’s a nice guy, pretty much keeps to himself. He’s not bashful or anything, doesn’t ask questions but he listens to everything you say.
“Nobody had enough candles so we brought what we had, put ‘em all on the cake. Anyway, we had a 200 candle cake. We sang happy birthday, gave him some cheesy gifts we bought at his store, the whole nine yards. Everybody had too many drinks and we started talking about old times. Milo was laughing and talking along with the rest of us. He had some funny stories about teaching Freshman English on the West Coast.”
I saw the Sheriff, Doc, and Les crossing the street towards the bar. The door swung open and they came in. Wendy said, hi guys, and set their drinks down. We said our hellos, toasted the end of another day and waited for somebody to say something.
“We were talking about last Friday, Milo and Steve. Have you seen Milo lately?”
Doc Harris shook his head no, said Steve was in to see him about his nose. “Funny thing about that. Everybody saw the punch in the nose, but I think Milo musta hit ‘im twice. He’s got a fractured cheekbone, too. And, Tom, just so you know, he’s saying it ain’t over between him and Milo.”
Wendy was drying beer mugs behind the bar. She stopped what she was doing for a moment, listening, and then went back to the mugs.
Tom leaned forward and said, “I thought I had too much Jack in me, blurry vision. Now I’m not so sure Milo didn’t ring Steve’s bell twice. Two times with one hand or one time with each fist.”
We chewed on that for a while then Tom spoke again. “I have to know who everybody is in case I gotta arrest them sometime. That way I won’t be surprised if somebody like Tony Lambert opens the door holding a baseball bat when I go looking for ‘im.
“I remember when Milo moved here. He was unpacking the stuff for his store, lots of boxes of books and I thought he was setting up a bookstore, but he said, no, those are my books. I’ll be selling craft supplies, party stuff, and such. Well, a man that reads that much don’t usually settle in a place like Panhandle. Man like that wants to be around people more like him than us. Not sayin’ he’s better, he’s just different.
“Then I’m thinkin’ Milo’s running from something – bad marriage, the law or worse, could be a deserter. He says he was a professor at a university on the West Coast, retired. I make a buncha calls and everything he says checks out. One parking ticket 20 years ago. Didn’t exactly retire, just up and quit one day, packed his stuff, wound up here.”
I said, “What does this have to do with Peggy Blue Eyes? Who was she?”
Tom said, “You gotta understand, Milo’s not a steady drinker so whatever he says when he’s had a few is probly the truth and a lot more than he intended to tell. Said Peggy was a nun. Not when he met her but after.”
That didn’t sound right. I said, “Milo meets Peggy. They fall in love and she backs off and becomes a nun?”
“Wasn’t like that. He was on three day leave before shipping to ‘Nam, met Peggy at a block party in L.A. They hit it off, spent the three days talking about life and stuff. Third day she says she’s entering a convent next week so she can’t write to him or nuthin’.
“Laid him pretty low. She was ‘the one’ and there was nuthin’ he could do about it. Then he thought Peggy was making it up about becoming a nun, letting him down easy. When he finished his tour he checked it out. What she said about the convent was the truth. Never saw her again. My friend at the VA told me he signed up for two more tours after that.
“Milo was talking about Peggy when Steve opened his yap, ruined the moment and got himself a broken nose.”
“Wow”, I said. “What a sad story. Some birthday party.”
Jackie said, “Well, that part of it, yeah. Once Steve left for the ER we forgot about ‘im.”
Doc Harris gave Jackie a sly look and said, “Weren’t you and Steve hot stuff in high school?”
Jackie choked on her drink, put her hand to her chest. “Doc, you don’t know the half of it. I know how it looked but it wasn’t that way. Oh, hell. Steve bragged so much everybody thought he knew everything about everything, especially about girls. What I knew was I didn’t wanna be a virgin anymore. I was 17, dating Steve, the hottest guy in school. I was ready and I thought he was, too. But he wouldn’t make a move so one night we’re at the drive-in watching a Gary Cooper movie, I don’t remember which one. I take his hand, put in on my boob. He jerks back like I was putting his hand in a bear trap and says he’d better take me home. And he did. A few years out of school a bunch of us girls we’re talking about him, comparing notes. We ended up agreeing Steve was ‘all talk, no hands.’
“I never saw Steve the same way anymore, let me down in more ways than one. All that macho confidence was all for show. It was Steve’s friend, Rick, taught me how things are done in the dark.
“Don’t look so surprised, Tom. You might be the smartest, handsomest Sheriff for a hundred miles North, South, East and West of here now but back then nobody knew about me and Rick, including Steve. You never saw us holdin’ hands and stuff but we had our secrets. Good ole Rick, rest his soul. He wasn’t my idea of the love of my life but he was close enough. I’ll bet you good money if Steve found out about us now he’d say he knew it all along. Maybe someday I’ll tell ‘im, see if I’m right.”
Les said, “Huh. Rick never said anything about you, Jackie, ‘cept how lucky Steve was. You and Rick, I never woulda guessed.
“Rick was all right. Remember his old truck, Half- a-Horse? He and Steve were seniors then, worked on that junker all summer to get it ready for the Labor Day races. Problem was that old truck was plain wore out and the boys didn’t have enough money to fix it right but they did the best they could to make their dime look like a dollar.
“The day of the race they flipped a coin to see who would drive and Steve won. There wasn’t any more they could do, filled the tank at Ben’s Conoco. First prize was $500, big money for Steve and Rick. ‘Course, they didn’t win but everybody who was there remembers Half-a-Horse. Ask around. Half-a-Horse is a legend. Steve still won’t talk about it.
“Tom can tell you the rest of it. He stayed ‘til the end.”
Tom drew an oval on the table with his finger. “The winner was the racer who completed the most laps around a half mile course in 15 minutes time. Nobody shows up for 15 minutes of entertainment so the land developers frontin’ the race had a whole carnival setup, rides for the kids, hot dogs, watermelon eating contests, some damn good barbecue, country music bands, the works. They had something for everybody. The race was the big finish.
“There’s about 20 racers, all junkers, mostly teenagers like us drivin’ hard for that $500 prize. My ride quit after two laps. Half-a-Horse is doing ok, leading sometimes, falling behind, catching up. The crowd’s really into it cheering every time the racers pass the finish line.
“About ten minutes in, something goes wrong with Half-a-Horse. Steve never figured out what. I just think that old truck’s time had come. Whatever it was, the only thing working was the steering. Half-a-Horse was stuck at 30 miles an hour, wouldn’t downshift and Steve couldn’t shut the engine off. All he could do was steer. You might wonder why didn’t he just hit the hay bales surrounding the track. If you ever hit anything at all at 30 miles an hour you know why he didn’t do it.
“The 15 minute time limit comes and goes, the race is over. A guy from Borger wins, gets the money. Meanwhile Steve and Half-a-Horse keep going round and round, full tank a gas and all. A few folks stayed around for a while, cheering them on, not exactly makin’ fun, but it was late in the day. Everybody was wore out from all the carnival stuff. At the end it was just Steve and Half-a-Horse going around the oval, me watching. Even Rick went home after an hour. Took another two hours to run out of gas.
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| Half-a-Horse's last days |
“That would have been the end of it, but a stringer from Amarillo picked up the story and it went regional then statewide in all the papers. Steve and his truck were famous in the worst way. He hid out for a while but he came out eventually. Half-a-Horse disappeared. Neither of the boys ever said how or when.”
Wendy came over to clear the empties and the ashtrays. We were quiet while she worked. When she was done she said, “I don’t think Milo’s showing us all his cards. Sometimes when we’re here alone we sit and talk. Nothing serious, mind you, just everyday stuff about his store, people around town. I don’t know what it is but sometimes he seems like a lion tamer being careful not to turn his back on the cats. Careful with his words, a little too much. Everybody’s got secrets, mostly embarrassing ones. Milo’s secrets, I don’t know what to think.
“I saw the punch. From where I was standing I could see Steve from the back. Milo came over the table like lightning. I don’t drink when I’m working so I’m sure Milo hit ‘im twice with his left hand so fast it was a blur. So what about that? Milo’s right-handed. I’ve seen lotsa fights. Even lefties lead with their right.”
Doc Harris said, “That explains both fractures and their location. Wendy, are you sure he hit ‘im twice? Real sure?” Wendy nodded.
Tom sat back, patted his tummy with both hands and said, “So we have a ninja among us. Three tours in ‘Nam, he coulda been counterintelligence, or CIA. He never said which military branch. If any of that’s true it means he coulda killed Steve if he was inclined to. It also means you damn well better have receipts if you want your money back for the ribbons you’re bringing back to his store.”
[The story continues in "Don't worry about him. He fights like a girl"]
[The story continues in "Don't worry about him. He fights like a girl"]
