|
“Maybe he really is
lost,” said Izzy, voicing what the others had wondered, but no
one else admitted.
“Yeah, and maybe he’s
a Yankee in disguise, too, you nitwit,” growled Lonnie.
“Peetie’s a grown man with more miles on him than any three of
us combined. How exactly do you reckon he’d get himself lost?”
“I’m just sayin’…”
“You always are,”
interrupted Lonnie, directing a stream of Mail Pouch that would
have polished the toe on Izzy’s boot if he hadn’t moved it.”
Izzy glared back
and set his bag of pork rinds on the hood of Peetie’s new
Cadillac. “YOU were sayin’?”
Hooter grabbed the
kid’s pop gun that had become the new favorite possession of
Delmar Jacobs and popped it a couple of times. “I think what
you’re both saying, if you’ll pull in your horns, is that we
need to find Peetie, that’s all.”
“Yep,” said Lonnie.
“Uh-huh,” said Izzy,
but he left the pork rinds where they were.”
Shopping loses its Luster
It had been the perfect day until now. Peetie had chauffeured
the boys to Fort Worth for their first visit to Cabela’s—the
outdoorsman’s mega store—all expense paid by the wives and
significant others.
“Remember to tag up
out front here at 3 O’clock, sharp,” Peetie had instructed
before everyone scattered. “That’s when the pony runs, whether
you’re here or not.”
Peetie’s imposed
departure time was now 45 minutes in the rear-view, and still no
sign of him. The collective feeling of those baking on the
asphalt next to Peetie’s car was an even mix between worry and
aggravation.
“Well, l-l-l-lets
go fin-fin-fin-get him,” slurred Delmar, grateful for the flask
he always kept in his boot for emergencies ranging from
snake-bite to the hour of the day.
“Delmar’s right,”
said Jackson. “I doubt that he’s lost, but Peetie is more
punctual than a banker’s reminder. Something’s up.”
“Let’s just ask the
folks who work there to use the intercom and tell him to get his
rear in gear,” said Izzy.
“Even I wouldn’t do
that to Peetie,” said Hooter. “If word ever got out that we were
looking for him like lost pup, he’d never hear the end of it.”
After a couple of
long minutes reflecting, Lonnie spat and said, “I reckon you’re
both right, much as I hate to admit it. Hooter’s right in that
we don’t want to embarrass Peetie. And, the lug nut with pork
rinds is correct in putting technology to work for us...” Lonnie
dug into one of his sacks.
“I bought four walkie-talkies; now’s as good as anytime to try
them. Hooter, you and Charlie take one and start at the east
side of the store, ground floor. Me and Jackson will take one
and start on the west side, and then we’ll repeat on the upper
floor if necessary. And Izzy, before you go getting all sulky,
you’ll take one and watch the front doors; you’re a good two
hands taller than any of the rest of us.”
A plaintiff pop
came from Delmar’s pop gun.
“And, Delmar, you
have the most important job of all. You’ll keep this last radio
and stay here at the car in case Peetie finds a back way out.
Plus, you’ll be able to watch our stuff so we don’t have to cart
it back in.”
“The r-race goes to
the sw-sw-swi-fastest,” said Delmar.
“By the way, anyone
know what he was wearin’?” wondered Jackson.
Of course, no one
did.
As they prepared to
head back inside the store, Lonnie whispered, “Let’s not make
this real obvious.”
False Starts and Buck Fever
Hooter and Charlie had barely begun when Hooter swore he spotted
Peetie by the fishing lures. Before Charlie could stop him;
Hooter had already spun the man around and begun haranguing him
about the time. The miss-identified shopper was less than
impressed.
“That a way,
Sherlock, real low key,” chided Charlie.
“Well, he had the
same color hair,” said Hooter.
“He was bald.”
“That’s what I
mean.”
Lonnie and Jackson
weren’t fairing any better, but they hadn’t offended anyone so
far.
As for Izzy, he
lasted about three minutes by the front doors before he had a
better idea. Why not get upstairs where he could not only keep
an eye on the front doors but have a clearer view of the entire
first floor? Once positioned and able to see both search teams
carefully making their way across the store, another idea came
to him.
“Breaker, breaker
Pig Pen, am in pursuit of a Caucasian male, appears to be about
six-feet tall, a little less around the middle, wearing an
Apache Flats Feed and Grain cap.”
Hooter and Charlie
got a chuckle out of Izzy’s description of Lonnie. Lonnie was
less amused, though he assumed Izzy still was by the front
doors; he’d forgotten to turn the volume down on his two-way and
a crowd of shoppers was now staring at is shirt pocket.
“Izzy, you idiot,
keep the channel clear.”
“Roger that, Pig
Pen, now engaging ninja mode. By the by, you might want to check
your zipper.”
Before he could help himself, Lonnie was reaching for his fly,
and then he turned the shade of a scalded lobster. “I’ll kill
him.”
“Time for that
later,” soothed Jackson. “Besides, I’ll help you.”
On it went to the
middle of the store, still no sign of Peetie. The two teams had
the same success upstairs by the time they hooked back up.
Congregating by the
turkey cookers, Lonnie pushed the button on his radio and
demanded, “Delmar, you see anything out your way?”
There was a long
silence filled with static, then a distant burp: “Neg-neg-neg-nope.”
“Izzy, how about
the front doors?”
“Secure, captain,”
whispered Izzy. “Ninja leader, out.”
“I swear, I’ll kill
him,” said Lonnie to the boys.
“Hey,” crackled
Delmar’s voice, “Did you l-l-loo-see inside stuff, too? There’s
some real comfortable rafts and such to rest in.”
Lonnie was about to
buzz back with his thoughts on Delmar’s question when Charlie
said, “You know, he’s got a point. Me and Hooter never looked
inside any of the tents and stuff.”
“Us, either,” said
Jackson.
Bingo
“Roger,” said Lonnie into the walkie-talkie. “We’ll get back to
you.”
Hooter and Charlie
headed down to the blinds, while Lonnie and Jackson made for the
camping department.
Lonnie was just
pulling the flap back on the last floor-model tent when
something grabbed his ankle and shouted, “Boo!”
Lonnie shrieked and
jumped back, knocking Jackson over. They never saw Izzy slipping
out the other side. As he made his getaway, Izzy opened up the
radio, trying to contain himself: “Breaker, breaker. Capn’ there
seems to be a commotion upstairs, copy?”
Hooter and Charlie
were having the same luck below, sans the drama.
Hooter was backing
out of the last blind when he swore he saw the mannequin on the
cot move. He moved back inside and poked it.”
“Hey!” shouted a
familiar voice.
“Peetie, what in
tarnation are you doing holed up in a pup tent?”
“Huh?”
Hooter handed the
walkie-talkie to Charlie, who informed the rest, “The bald eagle
has landed, repeat the bald eagle has landed—first floor,
blinds.”
“I said what in
tarnation are you doing holed up in this deer blind, all decked
out in camo bibs?” It wasn’t just bibs; Peetie was also wearing
matching hip waders, and a boonie hat that had been covering his
face.
“You’re lucky I
didn’t have that new knife out of the package,” gruffed Peetie,
trying to will himself alert.
“I was just
checking it out. Then I figured why not try on these bibs in
here, rather than find one of those change rooms. Then I thought
I’d try the cot, and well, I guess I fell asleep,” explained
Peetie.
“Guess so,” said
Hooter with a laugh.
“But what a dream,”
said Peetie, rewinding it in his mind. “I was in this clear,
cold stream with a bamboo rod and a dry spinner, and I was
catching cut-throats by the creel-full. And there were all these
persnickety types out there with these fancy fly rigs and they
weren’t catching squat.”
“You know those
boys are to the fishing world what headers are to team roping,
don’t you?” said Izzy in a low, conspiratorial tone.
Lonnie shaded up
again at the sound of Izzy’s voice.
“What time is it
anyway?” wondered Peetie.
“Past time for us
getting West,” said Hooter.
“Sure enough,” said
Peetie. “But before we go, I’m buying this stuff right here,
waders, blind and all. If you couldn’t find me, the old lady
never will.” |
