The boy was
doomed before his mother’s water broke. Wednesday’s child of woe
was not nearly descriptive enough for the implied possibilities from
the boy’s name alone. Sidney Percival Loganbotham Wainright,
Junior. It’s not recommended to read this name aloud; the very
sound, of which, is guaranteed to send out a radar effect attracting
any bullies within a fifty mile radius. They’re drawn to it like
flies to shit. They raise their heads, turn slightly getting the
scent of the fear pheromones produced by their favorite prey, the shy,
reclusive, yellow striped geek; found around libraries, museums,
computer expos, science fairs, and Star Trek conventions. It acts
much like a Sidewinder missile’s heat seeking targeting device; a red
flag for their insatiable wrath. It renders them unable to
control themselves with an unquenchable thirst for physical mayhem to
be levied upon a person with such an unfortunate
moniker.
Sometimes it’s
not the fates who are cruel. Sometimes, it’s the people who claim
to know so much about linage, heritage, birthright, status, and/or
parental love, if any. If you truly love your child why on God’s
green Earth would you hang a sign around his neck reading: “Sidney
Percival Loganbotham Wainright, Junior.” It says to a
bully, “Please, don’t bother to ask, just hit me. Feel free
to take advantage of this offer again at your next, earliest
convenience. Thank you for your valuable time and sharing your
wrath with me.” And, so it was,— young Sidney set out upon his
voyage into the world with a name that would surely spell out his doom.
Ah,— but as
Shakespeare pointed out many times, the fates themselves are a fickle
lot. Sometimes they’re humorous, but other times them bastards
can be down right nasty. Look what happened to poor Titus
Andronicus. The evil queen killed his two sons and he, in turn,
had her's baked in a pie and
served to her for dinner; yum,— filial frittata? Mostly, the
fates
have a decided sense of the absurd; however, when the stage is set for
the surest probability for eminent tragedy, they reverse the polarity
of their giddiness, and after much grumbling from the more powerful
pro-tragedy lobbyist contingent,— they get it right. (It might be
argued our government could learn a lot from them.) So, again it
was with our young protagonist, Sidney. The fates chose to give
him intelligence greatly above and beyond the average child, and a
father who, from the pratfalls and foibles of his own miserable youth,
decided his son would not so suffer.
Sidney’s father,
Sidney Percival Loganbotham Wainright Senior, suffered an untellable
youth. “Them wicked fates done seen him a’ come’n,” some
were heard to say; however, somehow, he managed to survive on his own
superior intellect and fundamentally sound wits to become an extremely
well-to-do man. Of course, it didn’t hurt that he inherited the
vast Wainright family fortune on top of his own accumulated wealth,
thereby greatly increasing his power base. The old saw, money
begets money, was never more true than in Sidney senior’s case.
Money was no object for him, he could buy and sell most all but a very
few of the names on the Fortune Five Hundred list. Metaphorically
speaking, Daddy Warbucks was a veritable pauper compared to Sidney
senior.
For all his
money, Sidney was a man of modest ways. He had no problem
accepting the good life money could provide, but he wasn’t one to be
extravagant or ostentatious. While he wasn’t a religious man, and
certainly had very little truck with the Morman faith, he decided,
after a brief youthful bout with drugs and alcohol, their ideas of
abstinence were something he admired and adopted into his own
lifestyle; however, he was not an evangelical convert to these ideas,
and within limits of moderation, he tolerated others’ individual
choices.
When looking for
a place to settle and raise a family he decided upon a rural ranching
community Northeast of San Diego some thirty miles or so. There he
built his mansion for his home and family. It wasn’t a big
mansion as mansions go; however, what it lacked in size it made up for
in quality and sheer comfort. It was all a reflection of Sidney’s
understated lifestyle. He saw his choices as a subtle put down
against the crassness of the nouveau riche. His personal fortune
was new, but his inherited wealth was very old money.
When Sidney’s
wife became pregnant, and gave birth to a male child, an heir for
Sidney, he was overjoyed. For once in his life, other than the
accumulation of wealth, things seemed to be going right for him;
until,— his wife died quite suddenly at a tragically young age.
Young Sidney was only three years old. Sidney, the elder, was now
faced with raising young Sidney alone. Since Sidney had no urge
or immediate plans to remarry, he set about to raise young Sidney
himself. This shouldn’t have been a great problem for a man of
such means. On the contrary, Sidney found the lack of competence
and personal dedication of hired employees a never ending struggle in
his
efforts to see to his son’s comfort, safety and well being.
Well meaning
friends told him to find a new mom for young Sidney, remarry and his
problems would be over. Sidney lived most of his childhood under
the abject domination of a wretched step-mother who would’ve made
Cinderella’s mom seem down right charitable. He had no intentions
of taking that chance for his son. No matter the money he offered
or paid, the people he hired to care for his son had little interest in
young Sidney. They were only interested in doing the least
possible for the maximum amount of money.
Through several
of the common folk of his community, who were not so interested in
Sidney’s money as to be, themselves, charitable of spirit, he found
some quality help. They took young Sidney into their home as one
of their own and cared for him approximately two and a half years
during brief periods when Sidney senior had to be away on business;
however, both were elderly and it was becoming increasingly difficult
for them to care for young Sidney. So, once again, Sidney, the
elder, had to find help. Young Sidney was now almost six years
old and would began school that year. His father hit upon a
radical plan.
He remembered
from his troubled youth making his escape from his tyrannical,
overbearing, fundamentally religious family by disappearing onto his
own family's ranch. His great-grandfather managed to secretly
hire him on as a cowboy. Only a couple of men knew of his
whereabout for a little over six years. It was a hard life to
adjust to but Sidney had perseverance and determination. Nothing,
no matter how hard, could be as emotionally devastating as the life he
left. Sidney grew up in those six years. He worked hard and
his great-grandfather grew to respect his great-grandson.
One of the few
people Sidney could count on as a mentor or confidant was an older,
common man, a man of the Earth, a cowboy, who befriended him, but asked
little in return; however, he demanded three things of Sidney: respect;
honesty; charity to those less fortunate than himself, and moderation
in all things; oh yes, and to plumb always kill a rattlesnake!
From this man he also learned the meaning and power of unconditional
love. Even today, he would seek the man’s counsel. Sidney
secretly thought of the old cowboy as the understanding, loving, caring
dad he never had. This man who Sidney held in such high esteem
just happened to be a man who loved other men; however, he never made
that a criterion for his friendship with Sidney. Neither did he
try to
hide his preference nor did he apologize for it. He neither
flaunted nor tried to proselytize his lifestyle; however, when he was
asked directly, he would never lie to anyone.
Sidney sat down
and created an employment opportunity advertizement for the
internet. He also planned to send it to all major newspaper’s of
English speaking countries around the world. It was clear and
concise; however, it left enough wiggle room for a creative mind to
read between the lines. Although he didn’t realize it at the
time, Sidney was subconsciously looking to ‘buy’ an additional family
member. Could it be done? Would he be successful?
Sometime, when you’re desperate, you take a big gamble.
Sidney’s ad
read: “Wanted: the male equivalent of a nanny for a young, grade
school, male child, age six years, to act as a caretaker, personal
butler, physical trainer, mentor, and friend. Experience and
education preferred but may be waved for other, similar experience,
education or personal recommendations. References
essential. This is not a part time job. After a
probationary period, the job will last until the boy is
twenty-one. If service is acceptable the terms of the employment
contract may be renegotiated at that time. A generous salary will
be offered depending on, education, experience, qualifications,
recommendations, and interviews. For further information, write
or send resume to the following address for a more detailed job
description and necessary qualifications.”
Sidney included
the address of a screening agency he hired which was run by a close
personal friend. His agency was to weed out all but the most
qualified with the best credentials. The ad didn’t generate quite
the response Sidney hoped for. While the screening agency
received numerous inquires, resumes, and a number of actual
applications the quality of the applicants seemed marginal at best and
some so outrageously cheeky with exaggerated claims of their experience
and knowledge on the subject of child care, they were immediately
dismissed. It provided Sidney’s friend at the screening agency
and his staff grounds for much amusement; however, after processing all
the more promising applicants, it came down to a choice of twenty
possibilities.
All twenty were
screened, re-screened, submitted to thorough background checks,
psychological profiles, education and recommendations checked for
authenticity. They were also required to have a polygraph
examination. Three dropped out because of personal beliefs
against such practices. Of course, one is never quite sure if it
was because of their personal convictions or because of their possible
other convictions being found out. Nevertheless, it was one of
Sidney’s requirements for all serious applicants. Ten were
eliminated for relatively minor indiscretions in favor of the remaining
ten who had all but faultless background checks and met most, if not
all of Sidney’s qualifications.
Sidney had a
conference with his friend and told him to have the ten remaining
applicants be interviewed by his best interviewer and have the sessions
video taped. From the tapes, Sidney would pick five to personally
interview. The final five were to be the cream of the
applicants. This was the results of almost six months of
searching and labor. It cost Sidney over fifty thousand dollars
for the newspaper ads alone to say nothing of agency cost. Sidney
was not concerned. If he found the right person for the position
to care for his son like he wanted, and could be comfortable with, it
was worth every penny to him. Sidney sat down
with his close friend and mentor, Frank Mayhew, to watch the
interviews. Five were eliminated rather quickly because of
personal preference or character traits the two men found
objectionable. Of the final five, there was only two who Sidney
felt he might feel comfortable with, and one his friend felt would be
okay. Frank had serious and grave reservations about who would be
caring for his nephew. Sidney loved his old friend all the more
for his honest concern. All applicants were asked their sexual
orientation and had it confirmed by polygraph. Half of the twenty
were more than a little surprised they were chosen for further
processing because they were either gay or bisexual. Of the final
ten, four were confirmed straight; four were homosexuals, and two were
true bisexuals. Of the final five, Sidney picked for personal
interviews two were gay, two were straight and one was a bisexual.
Since all
claimed to be personal physical trainers, as a final test, Sidney
didn’t see anything wrong with asking the applicants to remove his
clothing down to his briefs. He didn’t bother to explain, but he
would if asked. He would tell them, if they were physical
trainers he wanted to see the results of their training as it showed on
themselves. One straight man refused as did one gay man.
They were thanked, handed an envelope with a generous gratuity for
their time and patience in the interview process. The final three
had no objection and removed their clothing for Sidney to see their
bodies. The gay and the bisexual were by far more personally
developed than the remaining straight man and he was eliminated.
Sidney was down to two choices. He really wasn’t comfortable with
either. It had nothing to do with their sexuality; after all, he
was the one who eliminated the remaining straight men.
He called them
both back for another interview with him and his mentor. Frank liked
the bisexual. He had been Frank’s number one pick from viewing
the ten tapes with Sidney. He seemed like a man Frank could be
comfortable with taking care of his nephew. Sidney, on the other
hand, had a better feeling about the gay man. It became a
difficult choice for Sidney. He told them he would notify them
within two weeks of his decision. He wanted time to
consider. Secretly, in the back of Sidney’s mind he was praying
for a miracle. As the deadline neared, he found himself actively
praying for help. To whom or for what he was praying, he couldn’t
clearly define.
That evening,
after reviewing the tapes, he drove Frank back to his bunkhouse on the
Harding ranch. (Soon to become the Dunbar ranch) He returned to
his home to be greeted by his exuberant five year old son at the
door. Glory hallelujah, saints be praised, blow up the trumpets,
his daddy was home! Sidney senior and junior drove the wonderful
neighbor lady home and graciously thanked her for caring for Sidney
junior. Sidney handed her an envelope with a thank you note and a
sizable check for her kindness and help.
They returned
home and Sidney went into his study to open his mail. Among the mirid
excess of junk mail and a couple of bills was an envelope written in a
childlike hand addressed to him. He immediately recognized the
name and return address. It was from one of his close buddies he
used to ride with on his families ranch along with Frank. In the
envelope there was a brief note attached to a brochure for a boy’s
correctional ranch in Southwest Texas. It was a ranch for boys
whose families considered them to be incorrigible; however, they were
not considered delinquents and had no police record. Basically, the
ranch was the Western equivalent of the Eastern boys military school.
About
three-quarters of the boys at the ranch were there because their
families just didn’t want to cope with the trauma of dealing with an
adolescent day in and day out. They were all from upper middle
class or wealthy families who had the money to pay for their care and
handling during their trying years of hormonal see-sawing. The
family’s attitude was, “Here,— you deal with him, we’ve had
it! We have the money to pay you to deal with him. Don’t
call us, we’ll call you, but under no circumstances bring him home
before his eighteenth birthday.”
Today, there are
alternatives for the more monied of our society that are a bit more
socially acceptable, but of questionable success,— drugs. Some
boys were there because of a state or federal decision. Several
were brilliant computer hackers who hacked into the wrong computer on
the wrong day. They were much too young to be incarcerated and
essentially no good would’ve come of it. The camp was not
considered incarceration, but it may as well have been.
The boys were
worked on a working ranch from sunup to sundown. There was school
classes in the mornings and evenings. By the end of their day
they were too damn tired to even contemplate running away. It was
a hard life, but many learned sound lessons and formed solid
friendships that lasted a lifetime. The lessons learned would
stand them in good stead against the pratfalls of later life, and the
quality and strength of the friendships they made might never have been
found in regular society. Sidney was fascinated by the
brochure. The note explaining the brochure was in a child like
print with misspelled words and incomplete sentences, but Sidney
understood every word.
“Hello
Sid. long time no hear from you or me. Sorrie, you no I not
good at writin. Heer you be lookn for top waddie fer ur
boy. Frank dun toll me. Chek out man i send pic in thang I
send to you. He be man for you Sid. he name Sticker
Wiggins. fine cowboy. fine man. good man Sid. Him nos
kids good. He best with um I ever did see. he be good to ur
boy an good for ur boy, Sid. Ole Sticker he need famly Sid.
He need loven. His hart need to find a home. never ever
forgit what u done for me, Sid. You good man. you save my
life, buddy. mabe this save urs. Love you, an ur son, your
buddy, Will Shott."
Sidney clutched
Will’s letter to his heart and was wracked with uncontrollable sobs for
the memory and this simple gesture of love from his friend.
He was touched to the bottom of his soul. He knew, at that
moment, beyond a shadow of a doubt, this man his friend recommended,
Sticker Wiggins would be his man. His prayer was answered, and
not a moment too soon. He slowly opened the brochure again to
look through it when he saw a red circle around a picture of a tall,
handsome, cowboy who was broad at the shoulders and narrow at the hips.
Sidney knew he
wouldn’t have to ask this man to take his clothes off. He could
see the man’s body was in top physical condition. He had huge
biceps, a big, thick, bull-like neck, and his massive pectoral muscles
were easily seen through his western shirt. He had a big grin on
his face with his arm around three boys on his right and three on his
left. They were all looking up at him and were obviously awe
struck by the big man. Sidney had to admit he could understand
their awe. Sticker was, indeed, an imposing figure of a man. Sidney junior
came running into the room in his jammies and crawled up into his
daddy’s lap. He immediately saw the brochure and began to look at
the pictures with his dad. He pointed to the circled picture of
Sticker. He carefully ran his small finger over the image of the
man, like he was trying to feel him through the print in the brochure.
“I know him,
Dad.” he said softly.
“What do you
mean, Son? How could you know him?”
To say young
Sidney was an intelligent child was like saying Mozart was smart.
Sometimes, being exceptionally bright can have its drawbacks. His
inventive mind and vivid imagination worked overtime to create his own
personal fears and horrors for himself. He became as gifted at
that as any of his other pursuits. He would tell his dad about
dreaming of a horrible dark place in which he found himself alone and
frightened. To add to his horror he would call out to his dad or
anyone who might come to him to offer him comfort or ease his
fear. No one would come. It had become a frequently
reoccurring dream and small Sidney would wake in the night screaming
and crying for his father. Sidney’s dad was becoming concerned
for his child and considered seeking professional help.
Then, to his
dad’s amazement, one morning over breakfast, young Sidney announced to
his dad the problem had been solved. He told his dad the
particulars, but like many parents Sidney passed his son’s explanation
off as more of his inventiveness to solve his own crisis. His
father promptly forgot the matter.
“Don’t you
remember, Dad, I told you about a big cowboy who comes to me in that
dark place when I’m scared and tells me he loves me and not to be
afraid, he won’t let nothing hurt me? It’s him, Dad.
He even told me his name.”
“What’s his
name, sweetheart.”
“He’s got a
funny name. I didn’t believe him at first. He told me his
name is Sticky or Stickler, something like that, but he told me to call
him Mr. Wiggins. I’m not allowed to call him by his first name
until I’m a man like him.”
This was almost
too much for Sidney to handle. The memory of the conversation
came flooding into his mind. He held his boy to him and once
again was wracked with sobs. How could his child know the name of
the man in the brochure? Was this a sign? Was it possible
to reach across time and space within your dreams and contact someone
you’ve never met before? He knew his son was gifted, but this— ?
Little Sidney
was reading before his second birthday. He was writing his own
small stories before the age of three. By four he was reading
comic books and kid’s books. Recently, his dad caught him in a
corner of his library curled up with Charles Darwin’s “Voyage of
the Beagle.” He wouldn’t start the first grade for another eight
months. What other gifts might little Sidney have? Sidney,
could only wonder.
“Don’t cry,
Dad. It’s all right. Did I do something wrong?”
“No, no,
Son. I was just wondering how you knew the man’s name is
all. I didn’t tell you his name and it’s not written on the
brochure.”
“You don’t
believe me, Dad?”
“No, uuh,—
yes! Yes, I believe you, Son.”
“He looks better
in my dreams, Dad. He smells good, too. He smells like
lilacs.”
Sidney sat there
looking at his son and was bemused by his revelations. Who could
he ask
about this? Perhaps the doctor who owns a ranch not far from
his? He looked into his boy’s eyes and saw the deepest
trust. How could he not do everything in his power to see this
unique, loving little man had not only the best of everything he might
provide, but also, a healthy, normal childhood.
With the help of
several good people in his life, Sidney overcame his own unfortunate
childhood and became his own man. Sidney was, indeed, a self-made
man. Sidney was a respected mover and shaker in the world.
He went out on his own and made his fortune. He made his own
destiny. He didn’t rely on family money; in fact, he rejected
it. Sidney neither counted on nor imagined, one day, it might
come down to the last, and he would be the one to inherit the family
fortune.
Sidney had
little time for organized religion or spiritual hocus-pocus.
Because
Frank taught him the cowboy way, Sidney was respectful and accepted the
notion of an intelligent force in the universe; however, he just
couldn’t believe such an intelligence would ever be ‘up close and
personal.’ Did he really believe in miracles? If he prayed
for
one, would he understand it as such when it happened? This
unexplainable experience with his own flesh and blood certainly caused
him to pause and reconsider.
No matter his
beliefs on the subject, Sidney was not one to look a gift opportunity
in the mouth. Hell, it was worth looking into,— why not?
He’d already spent well over a hundred thousand for his search.
Researching this man would be jump change. He would start
tomorrow to find out who and what this man, Sticker Wiggins, was all
about. Sidney had to agree with his son, it was a funny
name. He didn’t give a damn if the man’s was named Catfish Von
Pumpernickel, if he was the man for his boy, he had to know. He
turned on his lap top as Sidney junior curled up in his daddy’s lap and
promptly went to sleep. At five years old, Sidney junior, was
still small and didn’t weigh very much. Sidney enjoyed having his
boy close to him. He felt warm and secure. He felt loved,
and he radiated his love back to his boy.
He started
typing notes to himself and his assistant. He had a male
assistant rather than a secretary. He found the man more
efficient, better organized, worked harder, was faithful and more loyal
than most of the women secretaries he had in the past. He knew
Kevin was gloriously gay, but Kevin left his lifestyle at home.
At work, he was all business and wouldn’t tolerate listening to a foul
joke that demeaned anyone. Sidney admired him for that. He
admired Kevin for many of his other qualities as well. (don’t go there,
that’s not what I meant.)
He took Sidney
junior and laid him on the leather couch in his office. He
grabbed a heavy throw and put it over his boy. He got a pillow
from underneath a cabinet he kept handy for just such a purpose.
He liked to have his son sleeping where he could see him while he
worked. He worked way into the wee hours of the morning. He
had note after note of instructions about what information to
secure. He wanted to know everything there was to know about Mr.
Sticker Wiggins before he even attempted to approach him. All his
ideas about interviews, contracts, proper hiring procedures were tossed
aside. This was one situation he knew instinctively he was going
to have to handle personally, on his feet, one step at a time.
If anyone could
get information about another person, Sidney knew how to go about
it. He had contacts all over the world and some in very high
places. Sidney contributed heavily to politicians who would go to
bat for him if he needed them. It is, after all, unfortunately,
the American way. Money may or may not buy happiness, but it goes
a long way to grease the cogs of cooperation. (corruption,
too! Can you say, ‘Theo-cons?’)
Sidney even had
close ties with several of the highest ranking men in the
Pentagon. One phone call from him would get him files few other
men could even imagine having access to. It would only take him a
couple of days to gather information on Wiggins. He wasn’t going
to stop there. He wanted to know who this man was and why his boy
dreamed of him.
* * * * * * *
By the end of
the first week, Sidney knew a lot about Mr. Sticker Wiggins.
Short of contacting and interviewing close personal friends, Sidney had
amassed a considerable amount of information about him. What he
discovered about the man amazed even him. Sidney had a tendency
to be somewhat skeptical about many things. When it came to
people, he looked for the best, but always expected the worst.
When he was wrong, he was pleasantly surprised. Frank told him,
that way, he was rarely disappointed.
He approached
this investigation the same way and was more than pleasantly
surprised. There was no record of Mr. Wiggins birth. The
closest thing found was a sworn affidavit he was born on a ranch in
West Texas in 1972. He graduated high school forth in a class of
twelve in 1990. He immediately joined the Army and was sent to
Iraq in Operation Desert Storm. He suffered a shoulder wound and
a wound to his left leg. He received two purple hearts and a
Bronze Star for heroism under fire. He was honorably discharged
from the Army and went to University of Texas on the G.I. bill.
He got a degree in psychology. He attended two years of graduate
school and got a Masters of Social Welfare. He became a licensed
psychotherapist after a year’s apprenticeship under a
psychiatrist. His graduate work and therapy was with adolescents
and young adults.
He had a lot of
problems with Gulf War syndrome and couldn’t seem to adjust to a
routine lifestyle. He couldn’t handle sitting behind a desk and
listening to kids problems day in and day out. He gave up his
practice and took a job with the boy’s correctional ranch. He’d
been there for two years. He was well liked and well thought
of.
He was one of the best councilors at the camp. Sticker liked the
work because he wasn’t doing one on one counseling. He was,
however, constantly working with the boys, acting as a role model and
mentor. Just what Sidney was looking for. The icing on the
cake for Sidney he never shared with anyone. Sticker was a cowboy
just like Frank and he had been. Do you think Frank Mayhew might
have figured that one out for himself?
Of all the
information gathered on Mr. Sticker Wiggins, Sidney found one, almost
insignificant tidbit interesting. Sticker once applied for a
security clearance for an unspecified federal government
position. They did a thorough investigation including any record
of sexual preference. One small notation in the file indicated
Mr. Wiggins had never been known to have a close physical relationship
with anyone, female or male. His sexual orientation and/or
preference was unknown.
* * * * * * *
The time to
notify the two final applicants for the job was near. Sidney had
Kevin call and tell them Mr. Wainright would be out of town for the
next couple of weeks and would contact them immediately upon his
return. From years as a successful business man, Sidney learned
to hedge his options. He contacted his buddy Will Shott and asked
if he could come visit? He wanted to meet this man, Sticker
Wiggins.
“I’m glad to
hear you wanna’ meet him, Mister Wainright.”
“What the hell’s
with this ‘Mister Wainright’ crap, cowboy? I’m Sid, Will, just
plain Sid, buddy. We been friends too many years and mean too
much to each other for you to call me mister. Your letter with
the brochure was the nicest damn thing anyone’s done for me in a long
time, my friend. You damn near ripped my guts out with that
gesture. I sat there crying like a damn baby reading your
letter. Stuck it to me again, you old bastard!” Sidney
laughed and heard his friend laugh with him, “You very well may
have saved my life, Will. If I like him, do you think I might be
able to talk him into it?
“I ain’t real
sure, Sid. I talk to him often. He comes by here to see me
once or twice a week on his days off. He knows about you and my
friendship, but he don’t know nothin’ ‘bout no job. I know’d from
Frank you’s look’n for someone. I don’t know’s he put together
just who you are. I think he’s pretty happy at the boy’s ranch,
but I know’d he had to take a big cut in income from being a therapist
in the city to wrangling kids on a ranch. He complains about not
having a lot a’ free time. I can’t really say, but I got a
feel’n, he might just go fer’ it. I never know with him.
He’s one of the nicest men I know, but he’s pretty quite most of the
time. Don’t say a lot to let chu’ know what he’s a’ think’n
on. I sure know he won’t put up with no foolishness.”
“He sounds about
like what I need, Will. If I fly into San Antonio can I come out
and stay with you a day or two to meet him?”
“Oh, hell, Sid,—
you know better’n to ask. You don’t never have to ask to come see
me. Jes’ come on! My door’s always open to you. You
know that. Why, jes’ the thought of see’n you again started my
old tail a’ wag’n. Won’t me to meet chu’ at the airport, Son?”
“No, Will.
I’ll just rent a car. There’s a couple of places I wanna’ see
while I’m back there.”
“You going back
to the old ranch, Sid?”
“You know me
pretty well, partner.” Sid heard the man chuckle on the other end.
“I’d say we know
each other pretty damn well, Sid.”
“Yes, Will, and
I thank God for that and you every day.”
“Ah, git chore’
butt out here. I can’t wait to see ya.’”
“Can’t wait to
see you either, buddy. See ya’ day after tomorrow sometime around
noon.”
“I’ll be
here. Thanks for call’n, Sid.”
“See ya,’ soon,
partner. Bye.”
Sidney hung up
the phone and felt tears falling from his eyes. Kevin walked in
and caught him.
“Oh,— I’m so
sorry, Mr. Wainright,— I’ll come back later.”
“Nonsense,
Kevin,— come,— what do you have for me?”
“Is there
anything I can do for you, Mr. Wainright?” Kevin asked with
genuine concern in his voice as he approached.
“No, but thanks
for asking, Kevin. I appreciate that, but I’m fine. I’m
going to visit a dear old friend of mine for a couple of days, and I
just got off the phone with him. I haven’t seen him since his boy
died, and I went back for the funeral. He’s all alone now, and
I’m looking forward to seeing him again. The tears were for joy
and anticipation of seeing him, Kevin.”
“Ahww, I’m glad
to hear that, Sir.” Then Kevin was back to business.
* * * * * * *
The trip into
San Antonio was non-eventful. Sidney rented a car and drove the
hundred and fifty miles to Will’s ranch. True to his word he
pulled into the gravel road leading to the ranch at ten ‘til
noon. There was a newer Ford F250 pickup truck sitting next to
Will’s. Sidney wondered. Sure enough, out of the
house comes Will followed by a big, handsome cowboy, the man in the
brochure, Sticker Wiggins. Sidney looked at the brochure a
hundred times or more like he was trying to send a mental message to
the man; a message he needed him and had a little five year old boy who
needed him more. Will got to Sidney first and wasn’t going to
settle for a handshake. He wanted full body contact. Sidney
didn’t hold back his genuine affections for his old friend either.
“Sid! Oh,
Sidney! Damnation, boy, it’s good to see ya’ again.”
“It’s awful good
to see you again, too, old friend. Look, my tail’s jes’ a’
wag’n.” Sidney partially turned his rump to show his
friend. The three men laughed. Sid continued, “Hell,
you ain’t aged a bit since I last saw ya.’ You must be living
good. Some’um’s agreeing with ya.”
“Sid, I want you
to meet another good friend of mine, Mr. Sticker Wiggins.
Sticker, this here’s one of the finest men I ever did have the pleasure
and honor to know. I want you to meet my friend and buddy, Mr.
Sidney Wainright.”
“Call me Sid or
Sidney, Mr. Wiggins,— please. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir.”
“Call me
Sticker, Sid. Pleasure’s mine, Sir.” The huge man
said with a decided Texas drawl. Sidney hadn’t been back to Texas
in a while, but he knew within the hour his tongue would start to
thicken and he, too, would be lapsing back into the same speech
patterns he unconsciously used years ago. ‘Must be the water,’ he
laughed to himself.
“Come,
Sid. Come on in. Make yore’self to home. I jest’
about got lunch ready for us. I bought us some of the Benson’s
barbecue down to the town yesterday. I remembered how much you
used to like their stuff. Sticker stopped by, I told him you’s a’
coming,— you’d be here ‘round noon,— I invited him to stay; told him I
wanted him to meet chu.’ Don’t think he was gonna’ ‘cause he
thunk I might be a’ cook’n. When I told him I was serving up some
Benson’s barbecue he accepted real quick like.” Will
laughed. Sticker and Sid had a good laugh, too.
“Ain’t ‘a damn
thing wrong with yore’ cook’n, old man. Ever now and then you get
a pert-damn good scald on some’um. I ain’t never pushed away from
yore’ table hungry.”
Will grinned
real big at his friend’s compliment.
Sidney was
immediately overwhelmed by the big cowboy’s genuineness and
self-confident ease around people. ‘Here was a man to be reckoned
with,’ Sidney thought to himself. Will told the two men to take a
place at the table, he’d bring the iced tea. He brought quart
mason jars filled with sweetened iced tea with lemon and a sprig
of spearmint. Sidney almost lost it in front of the two
men. He didn’t get his napkin to his face in time and one damn
tear rolled down his cheek. Sticker saw the tear and immediately
reacted. He gently reached his big ham of a hand over and grabbed
Sidney’s arm in a gesture of empathy.
“You okay,
Sid?” he asked softly in a concerned voice. Sidney laughed.
“I’m sorry,
Sticker. I’m fine. I haven’t been back in a while and to
have iced tea served to me in a mason jar, well — it brings back a
flood of wonderful memories Will and I shared together. It was
one of the happiest times of my life. I almost lost it, big time,
there, for a minute.” He laughed a little embarrassed.
Sticker released his grip on Sidney’s arm and smiled.
“You’re a
sensitive man, Sid. I like that in a man. I think it’s a
good quality to have. I try’n hammer that home to them kids I
work with ever’ day. Some days I think I get through, other days, I
ain’t so sure.” Will smiled as
he sat down to join them. Will reached out a hand to both men and
they instinctively took his. He bowed his head and the other men
followed suit.
“Dear Lord,
bless this food we are about to partake. May it nourish our
hearts and souls as well as our bodies. Thank you for your many
blessings and small miracles we see around us ever’ day. Thank
you, Lord, for good friends and loved ones. Bless my beloved
friend, Sidney. Please answer his prayer, Father. We ask in
Jesus’ name, Sir. Amen.” The other two men echoed
Will’s ‘amen.’ The men sat
about to eat the good food Will set before them. Sidney noticed
with some amusement Sticker wasn’t shy about eating. He was a big
man and probably required a lot of food. Will caught Sidney
watching Sticker pack it away. Will grinned at Sidney and
motioned to Sticker with his fork. Sidney saw a twinkle in Will’s
eye
and knew the flow of bullshit was soon to follow.
“Most times,
Sid, when I have ole Sticker over to dinner, I don’t even bother to
kill the damn cow. I jes’ bring it in the house and hand ole
Sticker the salt and pepper. It ain’t pur-tie, Sid,— you wouldn’t
wanna’ watch!” Will roared with laugher at his own joke.
Sidney thought it was pretty damn funny, too. Sticker just
grinned real big, but it didn’t slow him down a bit, he just kept
packing it away.
“Would you mind
telling me a little bit about your work, Sticker?” Sidney asked.
“Naw, Sir, I
don’t mind a bit. I’m head wrangler over to the ranch where I
work. Now that don’t mean what it does on other ranches.
How many other ranches you know where a cowboy has to have a degree in
psychology and some experience wrangling incorrigible kids?” he
asked rhetorically, “Head wrangle at the ranch ain’t a real great
title to have, neither. It just means I get all the shit when I
can’t get them damn kids to act like normal folk and behave
themselves.” He roared with laughter as he took another bite of
potato salad. Sidney and Will laughed, too.
“Do you enjoy
your work?” Sidney asked.
“Sometimes I
do,— and sometimes I don’t. I don’t mean that to sound like a
dichotomy, Sid. It jes’ seems like a never ending struggle with
them damn kids. Their families don’t want ‘em no more and
essentially we have to become their surrogate family. They got
more emotional baggage they bring with ‘em than any adult ought a’ ever
have ta’ deal with, let alone a pre or post-pubescent teen full of
raging hormones and conflicting thoughts. Hell, if we kin jes’
keep them little buggers out a’ each other’s bunks at night, it feels
like a major accomplishment to us. Most times we try’n work ‘em
so hard ‘til they’s almost dead on their feet so’s we can get a decent
night’s sleep as well. If’n we don’t we’re up ever’ damn fifteen
minutes chasing one of ‘em out of the other’s bunk. They can have
their dicks in another kid, fuck ‘em and get their rocks off faster’n
a’ damn jack rabbit. God bless me, I swear, I ain’t never seen
nothing like it, Sid.” Sticker shook his head and laughed.
Sidney was
impressed by Sticker’s humor in the face of what would seem to be great
concerns to him. Sidney laughed to himself about Sticker’s take
on ‘head wrangler.’ ‘Yeah, and how many head wrangles would you
find use words like ‘dichotomy’ and ‘prepubescent,’ he thought to
himself. For all of Sticker’s good ole boy West Texas Speak use
of language, many of his words betrayed his education and intellect.
That’s the way
it is with folks in Texas. Many sound like dumb hicks; however,
never make the foolish mistake of underestimating them. A lot of
them are better educated than you or I and know how to use good English
when they need to. Texas Speak has become a dialect of southern
comfort and hospitality.
“You any kin to
the Wainright family who owns the Lazy 8 ranch about a hunnert miles
from here, Sid?”
Sidney shot a
look to Will for help. He didn’t want to lie to Sticker, but he
didn’t know if now was the right time for him to learn Sidney was the
last of the Wainright family. Sidney was the sole owner of
the Lazy Eight ranch. He planned to go there tomorrow as a
surprise visit to check everything out.
“Yeah, he’s
distantly related to ‘em. Hell, ‘at’s how we got to know each
other. He was a buckaroo on the ranch same’s me. We ate
them beans and cornbread from the same wagon. I don’t think old
cookie knew how to fix nothing else but beans. We rode together
for five or six years, was it, Sid? Didn’t yore’ second cousin
git chu’ the job?” Will winked at Sidney when Sticker wasn’t
looking.
“Yeah, as I
recall. I ain’t real sure, pardner. We rode together for a
little over six years, to be exact. Best damn years of my life,
too! Wouldn’t trade those memories for all the gold in that
family.” Sidney didn’t have to, he had all the gold in the family.
“Sidney didn’t
have too much to do with ‘em for years, Sticker. He was sort of
an outcast by choice, ya’ might say. He jes’ didn’t see
eye-to-eye to their way a’ think’n ‘bout things. When I first met
him, I thought he was family-tight with ‘em and a poor little rich boy
snob. I done me some awful things to him I ain’t real proud of
today; however, when I found out he didn’t hold no grudges, and was a
genuine cowboy at heart, I made me one a’ the best damn friends I ever
did have.”
“Ah, you made up
for all that shit over the years, partner. ‘Sides, I got my fair
share in with you. I was just a little more subtle at it than you
were.” Sidney chuckled.
“Damn it all to
hell!” Will slapped his hand on the table, “I done know’d
it was you what put that damn dead skunk in my bedroll that
time!” Will slapped his leg and roared with laughter, “Rode
around on my pony all damn day with my bedroll on the back smelling a
skunk summers and I couldn’t figure out where the hell it was coming
from. Damn, it was strong. I’d try to ride away from it,
but I jes’ couldn’t seem to git fer enough not to smell it no
more. Then I noticed ever’ time I rode close to one a’ them other
cowboys, they’d turn and ride away from me. You’s the only one
what would let me git close enough to talk to ‘em and then you kept
your distance. I remember you ask’n me when was the last time I
jumped in the tank. You sorry son of a bitch!” Will
exploded in laughter. He had tears running down his face he was
laughing so hard. Sidney and Sticker were about to roll on the
floor laughing at their friend. “I never found it until I went to
bed that night, Sticker. God Almighty, was it an awful
stink? I had to burn that damn bedroll on the campfire. I
always wondered how it was, you jes’ happened to have a spare bedroll
in old man Wainright’s truck?” Will couldn’t stop laughing.
“Got me good, he did, Sticker! God, I love you, Sid!” He
wiped the tears from his eyes from laughing so much.
“No more’n I
love you, pod’na’?” Sidney told Will.
Sidney smiled to
himself. Yep,— it was beginning to happen he could feel his
tongue was almost twice its normal size. ‘That’s it! It’s
the damn ice tea; might be the spearmint? Ah, who the hell am my
kid’n? I’m home!’ He laughed to himself. Only in
Texas can you hear the two words ‘iced tea’ and it will contain five
syllables.
Things quieted
down and normal talk resumed. Will told Sidney what new projects
he had going around the place, and Sticker was helping him with a
couple.
“Ya’ know it
always helps to have another set of hands around.” Will allowed.
“If you can put
up with me for a couple of days, Will, maybe I can give you a hand
doing some things. Be good for me to get some real
exercise. I try to git to the local gym (his own complete workout
area in the basement of his mansion) two to three times a week when I
can, but it sure wouldn’t hurt me none to git a little bit of exercise
here.” ‘Git? Hurt me none?’ he laughed to himself, ‘I
ain’t used language like that in years! Feels pert-damn good,
though!’ Sidney was beginning to relax and enjoy himself.
He didn’t realize how much he missed this kind of association with down
home folks.
“Sticker?”
Sidney began a question, “Is it hard not to get attached
emotionally to the kids? Do you have favorites you particularly
like?” “Sidney,— it’s
the hardest part of my job. Do I have favorites? There’s
only a couple who ain’t my favorites and we got damn near a hunnert’n
fifty kids on the ranch. We’re told and warned over and over
again, don’t get emotionally attached to ‘em; don’t show favoritism;
don’t do favors for ‘em; don’t allow them to do favors for us; however,
I’d be lying like a railroad track if’n I was to say I didn’t have my
favorites. Emotionally attached? How the hell could any
caring man not get emotionally attached to ‘em? Sometimes I think
I’m
way in over my head. They’s a handful of ‘em I’d love to bring
home with me to give ‘em the love they need. The frustration is,
I know I can’t. Don’t take that the wrong way, Sid, I ain’t no
pederast. I ain’t no damn bible thump’n prude, neither. I
figure if two men wanna’ rodeo together it ain’t none of my business as
long as they’s of legal age to be considered consenting adults;
howsomever, to my way a’ think’n, them boys is jes’ too damn young to
be butt fuck’n one another.”
“I couldn’t
agree with you more, Sticker, and I certainly never meant to imply that
by my question. I was more interested in how you handled your
feelings to nurture them. Wait,— is ‘nurture’ the word I’m
looking for?”
“Yes, Sir, I
understand; nurture; educate; train; foster. I didn’t take your
question that way, Sir. Dealing with my emotions and need to
nurture them, is a constant conflict. It rips my damn guts out
sometimes it’s so strong, but I know if I’m gonna’ survive there I have
to realize I ain’t never gonna’ have much say in what goes on or how
they’re treated. I can have some influence in the way I conduct
myself and how I relate to them. I’ve learned one damn thing
though, they sure as hell don’t respond to no hard ass. They can
smell a hard ass counselor a mile away, and I’ve watched ‘em
gather to circle their prey jes’get’n ready for the kill. They’ll
eat ‘em alive! The harder they are, the more uptight they are,
the greater challenge it is to ‘em. I’ve seen big, stout,
stalwart, rugged men who thought they was jes’ gonna’ waltz right in
there and put the fear of God Almighty in them boys be brought to their
knees. Once they figure they got him down, they move in for the
kill. I’ve seen ‘em reduce a man to a pile of quivering,
whimpering mass of jello in a matter of days.” Sticker couldn’t
help but laugh as he was colorfully describing how lethal his wards
could be.
“On the other
hand,” he continued, “you cut ‘em a little slack once in a while, look
the
other way now and then, be fair and equal to ‘em, they’ll fall all over
themselves to do for you and protect you against the higher
powers. They’re like wolf packs. They work in independent
groups, together. The way that sounds, it don’t make much sense,
but it’s how they operate. They form small family groups, but
when it comes to a united front, watch out. They learn very early
on, when they git there, you can’t be a rugged individualist.
They might have been on the outside, and it’s probably what got ‘em in
trouble with their folks in the first place; however, at the ranch,
it’s united we stand or divided we fall. Nobody wants to stand
alone so they join a family group. They have to, to survive.
Now,— that ain’t all bad. They learn to cooperate within a group,
they learn to share, they learn to cover their buddy’s back, they
learn to get a solid, they have to do a solid,— and they learn
the benefit of trust.”
The more Sidney
listened to Sticker the more sure he was Sticker was the man for his
job. He was reasonable, and he seemed painfully honest and
direct. He was funny, charming, and he had a good grip on
reality. Sidney was beginning to think Sticker was a man he could
work with and feel good about.
“What line of
work are you in, Sidney?”
“I’m head of a
small corporation that produces custom software for industrial
applications. Other than make a lot of decisions and signing
checks all day, I don’t do much of anything but stand in my office
behind my antique ship’s wheel my wife gave me years ago, look out my
window, and imagine I’m sailing our company into profitable
waters.” Sidney chuckled at his metaphor. Sidney told the
truth. His thriving software venture was paying off handsomely,
but he was also the major stockholder in another three-hundred
companies or so. Sticker just nodded his approval.
“Tell Sidney
about chore’ dream you been a’ havin,’ Son .” Will spoke to
Sticker quietly. Sticker turned white and Sidney almost choked on
his iced tea.
“Damn, Will,— I
jes' met the man. I don’t wanna’ make him think I’m a rave’n
lunatic. ‘Sides he ain’t the right Sidney, no how. I just
know’d it. I could tell the minute I shook hands with him.”
“Sticker,— Son,—
Sidney’s a cowboy. He’s a’ wearing boots jes’ like you an me; he
puts ‘em on one foot at a time, same’s you’n me. Ever’ tub’s
gotta’ sit on its own bottom, boy. Granted, the bigger the bottom
the heavier it sits.” Will winked at Sidney and laughed at his
aside, “I know’d this man like I know my own soul. He’d
never think you was crazy. Might shy away from you for a couple
of days until he was sure, though.” Will slapped his leg and
roared with laugher at the look on Sticker’s face. Sidney didn’t
say anything but finished up the last bite of his meal. He braced
himself knowing what he was going to hear before Sticker even said the
words.
“Sidney,— Mr.
Wainright,— Sir,— you asked me a while ago about how I’m handling my
emotions, and I told ju’ sometimes it really gets to me on the ranch;
not so much I’m gonna’ quit my job or go look’n for something else;
however, lately, I told Will, it must be getting to me worse than I
think. I keep having this same dream where a small boy, a good
look’n little boy, is calling to me ‘cause he’s all alone and
afraid. The dream’s always the same. I go to him, hold him,
comfort him and tell him I won’t let any harm come to him; not to be
afraid, I’ll take care of him. He asks me my name and I tell
him. I ask him his and he tells me his name is Sidney.”
There was a
silence around the table you could cut with a knife. Sticker was
looking in his plate and toying with his food like he was embarrassed.
“See?
What’d I tell ya’?” Will spoke to Sidney, breaking the silence.
“Yeah, Will,—
but what chu’ don’t know, and the most amazing thing is, Sidney’s
have’n the same damn dream. Now how can ‘nat be?”
Everything was
quiet again.
“You’re having
the same dream as me, Sir?” Sticker asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I’m sorry,
Sticker,— we’re talking about Sidney junior my son, who’s only five
years old. In several months he’ll be six. He’ll start
school next fall. He’s having the same dream. He took one
look at your picture in the brochure about the boy’s ranch Will sent me
and told me your name; except, he said your first name was Stickly or
Stickler, but it didn’t matter anyway because you told him he had to
call you Mr. Wiggins until he grew up and became a man. He told
me the same story about him being alone and afraid in a dark place and
a big cowboy comes to him, holds him, tells him not to be afraid, and
he’ll protect him. He told me the man told him his name. I
had to come meet you for myself. Will never told me you were
having the same dream, he just told me he wanted me to meet you.
So the kindly, well meaning old bastard set us both up. Way to
go, Will! Ya’ still got it, pod-na.’” Will laughed with
Sid, but poor Sticker still looked like he saw a ghost. “I did tell him
that.” Sticker said slightly above a whisper, “I told him
he had to call me Mr. Wiggins until he becomes a man. It’s the
same thing we tell the kids out to the ranch why they can’t call us by
our first names. Ju’ have a picture of him, Mr. Wainright?”
“What father
don’t carry a picture of his boy, Sticker?” Sidney walked over to
his brief case, snapped it open, remove a glossy photo of his son and
handed it to Sticker. Sidney and Will watched all the color drain
from the big man’s face. He just sat there staring at the picture
of Sidney junior.
“‘At’s the boy
in yore’ dream, ain’nee, Son?” Will asked.
“Yes, Sir, he
is. How can this be? What does it mean?”
“We think we
know, Son.” Will opened the way for Sidney.
“What’da’ you
think’s happening, cowboy?” I asked Will.
“I done, done me
some powerful think’n on it. You know’d ‘bout me and my ‘powerful
think’n,’ Sid. H’it’s sort a’ like a rusty windmill in a
tornado. It makes a lot a’ noise, but it don’t do much.”
Will winked and grinned at Sidney. “Frank told me how he thought you
was still uncertain ‘bout them two men you’s try’n to decide on.
That kid of yours is bright, Sid. Real bright. Frank done
told me all about him. If you don’t think kids can pick up on
their parent’s troubles and frustrations you better think on that one
again. Yore’ kid’s been worried about chu,’ Sid. You spent
a lot a time and money on trying to find someone for him. He
knows you still ain’t happy with the results of your search. He
don’t won’t his daddy to be unhappy about him. He can’t pick up a
phone like you and me. So what’s he do? I think yore’ boy
done dialed his-self up some higher form of information and they give
him a dee-rect line to Sticker’s heart. Ole Sticker here,— he may
look like the meanest bull in the pasture, but he’s got a soft spot in
his heart for kids what’re alone and afeared. Sidney junior,— he
done put his-self in a ‘collect’ emergency, long distance,
person-to-person, heart-to-heart, call to ole Sticker,— and Sticker,—
well, he done answered the phone and accepted the charges. ‘At’s
all it took, brother! Them two’s ‘zall ready bonded. All
you gotta’ do is make the pitch. Slow’n easy, inside curve ball
ought a’ do it, Sid,— right across the plate. This ball game’s
all but over.”
Will slapped his
leg again and broke up laughing. He was so smug and pleased with
himself for his explanation. Sidney had to agree, for all of
Will’s down home spin on the situation, it sounded logical to
him. He didn’t have anything better. Poor Sticker was still
sitting there in a state of shock. He didn’t have a clue what
Will and Sidney were talking about. Sticker started to get a
smile on his face. He looked first at Sidney and then Will.
His smile turned into a smirk.
“I get it,— you
guys is settin' me up. This is all a big joke on ole Sticker,
right? You’s in cahoots, ain’t cha’?”
“Gees, Sticker,
I wish it was true. I wish this was all a big joke; not
necessarily on you but in general. Believe me, I’d never risk
something as sacred as my boy’s trust on a practical joke at a good
man’s expense; a man whom he speaks of in such admiring, respectful,
loving terms and describes him as smelling faintly of lilacs.”
“‘At’s the
aftershave Sticker uses, Sidney,— Lilac Vegetal.” Will added.
“I can see how
you might think we’re setting you up, Sticker, but lemme’ assure you,
we’re not. I came here to meet you because of my boy. I
came here to offer you a job similar to the one you have now without
the headaches and frustrations. I came here to offer you a
position as head wrangler, top waddie, to ride herd on my boy. He
needs you, but just as important,— I need you. We need a man of
your experience and qualifications we can trust. Will wrote me a
letter he included with the brochure he sent me about the ranch where
you work. He wanted me to meet you because he thought you were
the man for the job. Now that I’ve met you and talked with you,—
I agree with him. You are the man for the job.”
Sidney got up
from the table, went to his briefcase, brought back a thick manilla
envelope and handed it to Sticker.
“I had my
secretary prepare a proposal for your consideration. It outlines
all the particulars including salary, full benefits package including
full medical and dental plans at a hundred percent coverage; a generous
retirement plan, and bonuses. You’ll find two contracts
inside. The first a probationary, six month contract, which will
be superceded by the second long term contract to be renewable every
three years.”
Sticker looked
up into Sidney’s smiling face, looked down at the envelope again and
started to remove its contents. He looked up at his friend who
nodded his encouragement to open the package. He opened the cover
page to the brief, one page outline. Sidney looked at Will who
had a smile on his face as wide as Texas. He was really enjoying
this because he thought it was a wonderful opportunity for both his
friends. Sticker’s mouth dropped open when he saw the annual
salary figure to be matched by an equal amount deposited into a secure
retirement account in his name. He would only be able to access
the account on his sixty-second birthday; or, it would be willed to his
designated heir upon the occasion of his unforseen early demise.
“You guys,— are
really pulling out all the stops. You be joking me, for sure.”
“What?
Ain’t it enough money,— ” Sidney asked sort of dejected.
“Not enough
money? Are you kidding? My salary at the ranch is one tenth
this amount? You’re offering this tax free? You’re willing
to pay the taxes on it? That’s an additional twenty-eight
percent, maybe more.”
“Not with my tax
lawyers, Sticker.” Sidney grinned.
“Where’s the
camera? I’ve always wanted to meet Allen Funt. This is
Candid Camera, ain’t it?”
“Sticker, you
know how I feel about chu,’ boy. You mean too damn much to me to
pull some crazy shit on ya.’ These last few years, you been like
a second son to me. You saved me from grieving myself into an
early grave. Trust me, Son, he ain’t joking wictha.’ This is too
damn important to him.” Will spoke quietly to Sticker.
“What’s this
cashier’s check for a thousand dollars for?” Sticker had the
check in his hand.
“It’s a retainer
fee to take this package to any attorney of your choice to have him
review it and explain it in detail, if you wish. If not, and you
don’t chose to accept my offer, you may keep it for your time and
consideration.”
“You’re giving
me a thousand dollars just to consider your proposal?”
“If you don’t
want a lawyer advising you, but I recommend it for your own peace of
mind.” Sidney urged him.
“How long would
I have to consider it?”
“I believe it’s
there on the next page at the bottom. I asked my secretary,
Kevin, to give you two weeks from today when the proposal expires and
becomes null and void.”
“May I take this
with me, Sid, to look over tonight? I’m off tomorrow, may I
return to ask any questions I might have, Sir?”
“Of course,
Sticker, but I have a trip planned for tomorrow to make a surprise
visit to one of my holdings; however, why don’t chu’ come over early in
the morning and ride along. We can discuss the particulars on the
way. I’m gonna’ try’n talk Will here into going with us.”
“May I ask where
we’ll be going, Sir?” Sticker asked suspiciously.
Sidney looked at
Will. Will smiled and nodded to Sidney to tell Sticker.
“To my ranch,—
the Lazy 8.”
Because of his
innate goodness, his strength of character, his sense of humanity, and
his untapped love, the fates,— remember them,— decided the big,
handsome cowboy, Sticker Wiggins, should fall into a deep bucket of
very wealthy shit and come out smelling more like lilacs than he ever
had before. Once again,— them bastards got it right!
End Chapter 8 ~
Texas Longhorns Copyright 2005 ~
Waddie Greywolf Mail to:
waddiebear@yahoo.com