The Ink-Stained Trail - Chapter 2

It's a hot mess here, which is an unwelcome surprise. I'm used to it in the city, where the buildings suck up the heat and try to smother you with it. I figured out here on the plains, where the wind is always going, and there aren't that many buildings, it wouldn't be an issue. Turns out the wind does shut its mouth sometimes, precisely when ya don't want it to. It makes me not want to move, even talking feels like too much effort.

Seems the locals feel the same way. They're friendly enough, in that fake way where they all say hello and ask how it's going, even though they know the answer. I'm sweating through my clothes at 9 a.m. in the shade, that's how it's going. Still, it's more than I got back home, where people couldn't be bothered to fake pleasant. Still, these farmers as just as good at shutting their yaps when they feel like it as the rummies back home. Which means my investigation into the food thefts isn't making much progress. Nobody knows anything about the thefts, why the Raccoons would be doing it or where they hang their shingle, or so they say, if they even say that much. Groups of people stare dead-eyed until I go away. Must be a contagious condition. There's something up with the Charlanes though. They run the other way if they even catch a glimpse of me. Lead to quite a commotion in the drugstore last weekend. Cough syrup and castor oil everywhere. You know, a guy could start to get a complex if this keeps up.

I've never been one to strongarm people for dirt, and now doesn't look like the time to start. These farmers stick together, and most of them are the size of my Edsel, and twice as sturdy. Drawing more attention to what I'm doing wouldn't be the smart play, not at this point. Maybe later, when I have someone to try and draw out, but I don't know whose attention I should be trying to get. So I go the other way, fade into the background as I head to Granny's House, a local eatery. Besides, I need to eat. Everyone looks up when I walk in, but lose interest once I pick an out of the way table and place my order. It's a flapjacks kind of day. I'll regret it later, when they're sitting in my stomach like a starchy anchor, but for now, it's good eatin'. Glancing at the other customers I have to figure the salad bar is listed on the menu as a joke. Or that's how everyone else takes it. As the conversations pick up, I try listenin' in.

'She told them she was going to retire in two more years, so they should just wait to close that branch until then.'
' . . .cut her loose and replace her with someone . . ."

"Had to go to the doctor. . . foot pain. . .'

'Why's this burger so crumbly?'
'That's how they. . .'

'Cain't understand that. Who's gonna buy houses all the way out thair?' Hmm?
'George said he heard it'd be young couples, wantin' a house to start a family.'
'In the middle of nowhere? That don't make no sense. Gonna have some lonely kids.'
'I'm just 'ellin' ya what George said.'
'Ah what does George know? He's in the bag half the time, and seeing William Jennings Bryan when he's dryin' out the other half.' A talkative drunk? Thanks Red Cap.
'Well, it's their money, and their land, they can build what they want out there.'
'Sure, if they want a bunch of empty, rotting houses on perfectly good grazing land.'
'Not like the Charlanes don't have plenty of other grazing land.' A third voice heard from.
'Say mister, something about us interesting you? Mister?'

Huh? Uh-oh, paid attention a little too closely.

'Just wondering if I could borrow that hot sauce,' I told the fellow in the red cap. His buddies looked at each other, then at me. A hefty guy with a burned nose a flannel shirt (which isn't much help, they're all wearing flannel shirts) spoke up. 'Hot sauce? For flapjacks?'

Good lie, Ace. I make a sniffing sound. 'Nah, for my allergies.' Sniff. 'Driving me crazy, so I'm gonna get tough with them, show them who's boss.'

They all break into huge grins. 'Well this I gotta see,' laughed Red Cap. 'Here ya go.'

I'm going to have to go through with it. They're all watching. Guess that answers what they do for fun around here. They watch people make fools of themselves. I dump some hot sauce on my plate, take a straw, and snort it up my nose.

I was hit across the face with a pool cue once, courtesy of Johnny Two-Left-Shoes. That hurt just a little less than this did. As I start coughing and tearing up, the boys break out laughing. At least I've entertained someone. The day isn't a total waste. All it cost me was my sense of smell for the foreseeable future. Which means I'll miss the pig crap smell when the wind comes out of the north. This is looking like a better idea all the time.

'Did it work?' A third guy inquires. This guy's my height, but twice my width. Grey flannel shirt, thin blond hair, his entire face is burned. Or it's red from years of hard drinking.

'Absolutely. My nose is as wide open.' I don't mention that actually breathing though my nose is like pouring salt in an open wound. I finish my meal and step outside, the boys waving good bye to me as I go, huge grins on their faces. The thought that maybe I'm making some friends vanishes as I step back into the clambake outside.

Across the street I see a lady. Not a kid, but not old, either. Not bad looking, but in a drab grey dress. There are four guys following her, each wearing all black with brown hair. Well, three of them have brown hair. One's wearing a brown rag on his head. They hover around her, not talking, always at least a half-step behind, not jostling each other, either. She turns suddenly, the boys collide with each, get straightened out, and hustle to catch up. I walk a block down to the park. Try keeping cool in the shade.

An hour later I decide I need to try harder, because the sweat's running off my like spaghetti sauce off a wiseguy's chin. Still, I've noticed three more groups like that first one. A woman in grey, several guys in black clothing with brown hair tagging along obediently. The lady doesn't even give commands, they just follow like dogs with their eyes on a stick. They're cruising the town, going in all the stores, , leaving a few minutes later, on to the next one. What's strange is none of them seem bothered by the heat. Well, there was one guy who had dyed his hair, you could tell because the dye was running and staining his suit. After awhile, they vanished. Either it got too hot, or they finished whatever they were up to.

Looks as though I have something else to look into besides that new housing and the food thefts.