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THE NEXT COUPLE OF NIGHTS were tough getting to sleep. He kept thinking he was getting too involved with the Barkleys, the town, some of the nice people, that he should just complete the mission, collect the money and then take a well-deserved six months vacation in California, preferably Catalina. It had worked so well the three other times, why was he dragging his feet this time? He had cased the Tastee Freeze months ago and identified his target in the first few hours after he arrived. His plan had worked so well in the past. Why was he hesitating now? Could it be the Barkleys’ kindness was having an effect on him, positive as it was? He knew they were trying to give him some of the love they had been unable to give their son, Michael. But he also had to admit that no one had ever gotten under his skin like Peggy. He didn’t even know her last name. It had been almost a month since that night at the club, almost like a dream. Nick would not tell him anything about her. All he would say was that you didn’t talk about a woman like her in a bar Motivated primarily by pity, Nick finally revealed to him she usually came by the club at the end of each month. He made him promise on his life that he wasn’t lying just to make him feel better. Nick laughed out loud.
“My God! You’re in love and she might not even remember you.”
“Don’t say that, not even as a joke!”
This was the special weekend and he would know real soon if she were just a dream. If a dream, he could get on with his mission and collect his money without ever thinking about it again and thought California would be a good place to stay for the next six months.
It seemed noon would never arrive, especially on this day. As soon as Mr. Barkley directed him to lock the front door, he complied and then ran up the steps to take a quick shower and dress in the new clothes he had bought just to impress her. He assured himself she would be there. Living another day without seeing her would prove difficult. In his entire life, he had never felt this way about anyone. He didn’t understand this strange new emotion and even stranger was the thought that he might not be able to control the parameters.
Walking a little faster, he stepped through the doors into the bar at exactly one thirty. Nick laughed, calling out: “Well, well!”
“Yeah, it’s me!”
He slid a beer down the bar to him. “It’s just you and me, kid. I guess you will have to wait a little longer.” They both laughed.
About an hour later the silence was broken by someone coming through the bar doors. He could not believe his eyes. Talk about a bad dream! In the middle of the floor stood the worst imitation of the head guard you could ever imagine from his hats to his boots, à la Cool Hand Luke. The glasses were perfect. He must have searched the whole state to find them. The only thing out of character was the pearl handle pistol on his side. The words just jumped out of his mouth: “What is that?”
“Are you looking for trouble, boy?”
He realized he had spoken too soon. “No, sir. I was just admiring your pearl handle pistol.”
“Watch your tongue, son! And it’s not pearl! It’s modeled after General Patton’s pistol. This is ivory. As Patton said: Only pimps carry pear handle pistols ? and I ain’t no pimp.”
Nick would barge in: “No, sir! This is Billy Bob Foster, the town sheriff for Blue Ridge, also the self-acclaimed best deer hunter in the state. With the best gun collection, too. If you don’t believe me, just ask him. Billy Bob, this is Jim Cole: He’s new to our county.”
“You got work?”
“Yes, sir. I work for Mr. Barkley at the post office.”
“How long do you plan to stay?”
“I’m not sure. I thought I would have been gone by now but you really have a nice town here. I may stay until spring. Sir, can I look at your pistol?”
“Yeah, watch where you point it. It’s loaded and I carry it with it’s safety device off.”
Nick looked at him and thought: What a moron! “Billy Bob, that’s going to get you killed one day.”
“You’re not sheriff anymore so pipe down. Now days we need to get our weapons out quickly. You never know what dope head you might run into.”
“Or a revenging wife.”
“You weren’t there. Self-defense all the way.”
“Yeah, those one hundred and fifty-pound women sure can scare a man! How many shots did it take? Three? No, no, four. All in the chest, right? Billy Bob is our town’s woman killer.”
“That’s enough, now.” Billy Bob gave Nick a stare that said if he could get away with it, he would kill him right on the spot.
“What are you going to do? Tell your Uncle Bob and have me fired? If you do, who will serve you free beer?”
Trying to cool things down, Jim said: “Sheriff, is the deer hunting good around here?”
Billy Bob relaxed a bit and said: “Not as good as it is in South Georgia, but we find plenty. Do you hunt?”
“I did a couple of times with my father when I was a teenager. We never saw a deer. I think the deer were smarter than we were.”
“They are not smart. They just have good ears and noses” — Billy Bob said. “If you’d like, I can give you some pointers.”
“I’d like that, but I don’t have a gun.”
“What kind of gun are you looking for?”
“My dad had an old Army rifle he converted to a hunting rifle. I’m not sure what kind it was. He just called it his 03. I loved shooting with it. Do you know what kind of gun that was?”
“That’s easy. Before WW1 the Army used the Springfield 03. Springfield Arms made them and 1903 was the first year the Army began to use them. I must have at least five in my closet. They need to be modified, but I know a guy in Atlanta that can do that for you. He might be able to complete it in time for deer season.”
“How much will it cost me?”
“Well, I got a real deal on the weapon. How about $20 for the gun? I can get Kurt to modify it for you for another $30. Can you afford $50 for the best deer gun ever?”
“Oh, yes. I can do that. What else do I need?”
“If you want to see deer, you need to make sure they don’t smell you. You’ll need a pair of knee-high boots and gloves.”
“Rubber boots?”
“Yeah, come outside and I’ll show you mine. I keep them in the trunk of my car.”
As Billy Bob opened the trunk, Jim asked what size boot he wore.
“Eleven. What size do you need?”
“Nine and a half, maybe ten.”
“You will need to make sure they fit or you will end up with blisters.”
“I understand that. Where can I get a pair like yours?”
“I got them at Johnson’s Bait and Tackle Shop on South Main Street. I think they were $9.95. Are you interested in that gun?”
“Oh, yes.”
“How about the gunsmith?”
“I don’t have a car. I don’t know how I can get the gun to him.”
“That’s easy. I go see him every other Thursday. Do you want to ride with me this Thursday?”
“I would love to. I’ll see if Mr. Barkley will let me off that day. I’d be grateful for the ride. Billy Bob, why are you going so far out of your way to help me?”
“Currently I’ve run out of hunting buddies and it’s always more fun to hunt with someone.”
“Well, it looks like you found a new hunting buddy. Thanks for the help.”
“Well, I’ve got to go make my rounds. See you later, Jim. It was Jim, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, Jim Cole. I’ll let you know what Mr. Barkley says about the day off.”
As Jim came back into the bar, Nick called out: “Has Billy Bob convinced you he was the greatest hunter since Daniel Boone?”
“Not really. He did say he had run out of hunting buddies. How come?”
“Remember, he was not using the safety device on his pistol? Yeah, well, that’s the way he hunts, too. Nobody in this county wants to be in the same woods with him. Billy Bob has been known to shoot at sounds. It wouldn’t surprise anyone if he blew his own head off one day. If I were you, I’d stay out of the woods when he’s there.”
“Sounds like good advice. I’ll remember that.”
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