1

    Traffic on the Pacific Coast Highway was light for a Monday morning, and Sheila Jones pulled into the employee parking lot behind Colony Day Spa fifteen minutes earlier than usual. Even though she owned the mid-scale spa for over three years, she loathed opening up in the mornings.  A year after starting the spa and establishing a steady client base, Sheila decided she needed help running the business.

    She conducted extensive interviews for a manager who could take over the daily operations of the spa while Sheila focused on marketing and public relations.  She liked the idea of concentrating on bringing in new clientele and upgrading the design of the spa, but was leery about turning over the entire day-to-day operations to someone else.

    After about a month of countless interviews, Sheila hired a successful woman with ten years of management experience in an upscale Manhattan spa.  Against her better judgment, she allowed the new manager to open in the mornings and set up the spa for a one-week trial period.  She soon regretted her decision when an incident occurred with an established celebrity client.

    On the fourth day of the trial, the thirty-five-year-old New Yorker overslept and arrived for work at 10:15, thirty minutes later than her scheduled start time.  The five aestheticians that were scheduled to work that day stood waiting at the back door as the manager nearly lost control of her car and skidded to a halt in the employee parking lot.

    When the manager opened the back door and deactivated the alarm system, the first clients of the day were already at the front door.  Ms. Hawn and Ms. Hudson stood with their hands cupped around the sides of her face, peering through the smoky glass entrance.  They had already been waiting fifteen minutes by the time the new manager opened the front door.

    When Ms. Hawn offered to wait with her daughter until Colony Day Spa was prepared to receive clients, the manager screamed at the unsuspecting women and told them they would have to come back another day.  To make matters worse, the manager told Ms. Hudson that she hated her movies, and was an overrated actress.  One of the aestheticians called Sheila shortly after Ms. Hawn and Ms. Hudson left, and that same day, Sheila was forced to terminate the new manager with prejudice.

    Sheila tried for several weeks before she regained Ms. Hawn’s business, but her daughter never returned.  Since then, Sheila never allowed anyone else to open the spa in the mornings again.

    The silver BMW’s engine purred as Sheila lowered the volume of the stereo and grabbed her purse.  She heard her cell phone beep as she turned off the engine, which meant that she had a missed call.  She ignored the phone and sighed as she sat thinking about opening Colony Day Spa for another Monday’s heavy appointment schedule.

2

    Colleen Caldwell listened to August Riley’s heavy sobbing in the hospital bed just a few short feet away from her.  She wanted more than anything to get out of bed and put her arms around Augie, but for the first time in Colleen’s life, she felt utterly helpless.

    “I believe you, Augie,” Colleen said in a solemn tone.

    “I know you do, Colleen,” Augie whimpered.

    The heavy door of Room 258 swung open and Nurse Amy poked her head inside.

    “Is everything okay in here?” Amy asked.

    “We’re okay,” Colleen said.  “Sorry I yelled like that.”

    “Don’t worry,” Amy said.  “I was standing a few feet away, and I thought maybe you were in trouble.  I don’t think anyone else heard you but me.”

    “Colleen made me cry,” Augie said as she lowered her arm and tried wiping the tears from her right cheek.

    “I did too!” Colleen quipped playfully, hoping to bring Augie back from the edge of her storm.

    Amy chuckled at Colleen’s comment, and then stepped inside the door.

    “You owe me one gumball machine,” Augie said, sniffling.

    “That’s the spirit!” Colleen said loudly.  “Fuck ‘em!”

    “Amy?” Augie called, calming a little.  “Can you do me a huge favor?” Augie asked, still sniffling.

    “Sure, sweetheart!  What can I do for you?” Amy asked.

    “Can you go over and give Colleen a big hug for me?” Augie asked.

    “Awww… that’s so sweet!” Amy said as she tilted her head like she did before.

    “I was going to ask you to do the same thing!” Colleen said as her eyes welled with tears.

    “Hug her as hard as you can without hurting her,” Augie said.

    Amy went to Colleen’s bedside, wiping away a few tears of her own.  Colleen leaned forward as Amy carefully put her arms around Colleen’s neck and gave her a hug.  Colleen slid her right arm around Amy’s waist and pulled her closer.

    “Is that all you got, Amy?” Colleen asked.

    “Well, Augie said not to hurt you,” Amy said as she hugged a little harder.

    “That’s the ticket,” Colleen said.  “Now it’s her turn.”

    “You two are quite the pair,” Amy said as she let go of Colleen and stood up straight.

    “I know, right?” Augie said, returning to a normal tone.

    Amy went to Augie’s bedside, leaned over and then slid her hands around Augie’s neck.  Augie leaned slightly forward and held out her arms.  Amy gently hugged the twenty-five-year-old, and was surprised at the battered woman’s strength.  The bleach blonde hugged her waist with all of the energy she could muster.

    “That is just the sweetest thing ever!” Amy said as another tear made its way down her cheek.

    “Thank you, Colleen,” Augie said as she let go of Amy’s waist.

    “No, thank you, Augie,” Colleen replied.  “Amy did a good job, didn’t she?”

    “She sure did!” Augie said as Amy stood up.  “Amy, I need one more favor, if it’s not too much trouble.”

    “Name it,” Amy said as she wiped away one last tear.

    “I need to go to the bathroom,” Augie said.

    “Do you want to use the bedpan?” Amy asked.

    “No… I would rather go in the bathroom,” Augie replied.

    “Damn, Amy!  You must have squeezed her hard!” Colleen said with a giggle.

    “I guess!” Amy chuckled.

    Amy helped Augie sit up and swing her bruised legs over the edge of the bed.  Colleen could see several purple contusions of varying sizes along Augie’s spine as the untied hospital gown left a large gap in the back.

    “Nice, huh?” Augie asked as she looked over her right shoulder at Colleen.

    “Yeah… real nice,” Colleen said with an empathetic tone.

    “You should see the other guy,” Augie grunted as Amy helped her to her feet.  “Don’t go anywhere,” she said.  “I’ll be right back.”

    “I was thinkin’ about going for a walk,” Colleen said.

    “Why, you got a date with The Six Million Dollar Man or somethin’?” Augie quipped weakly, referring to Colleen as The Bionic Woman.

    “Ha ha ha…,” Colleen said mockingly.  “Very funny.”

    Amy chuckled as she helped Augie through the bathroom doorway.  Augie took short steps and shuffled her feet on the tile floor as she turned and positioned herself in front of the commode.  Amy closed the bathroom door behind her, and Colleen could barely hear the reverberated groans coming from Augie.

    “Hold on to the rails,” Amy instructed.

    “Yes, mother,” Augie said as she lowered herself slowly to the commode.

    “There you go,” said Amy.  “You okay?”

    “Yeah,” Augie replied.  I think I might be in here for a while.”

    “Okay,” Amy said.  I’ll just wait outside the door, and you can let me know when you’re done.” 

    “I don’t want to hold you up,” Augie said.  “It’ll take some time.”

    “Well, when you’re done, just pull the emergency call bell, and somebody at the Nurse’s Station will let me know that you’re done,” Amy said.

    “Okay,” Augie said, grunting again.

    Amy exited the bathroom, closed the door and washed her hands.  Colleen reached for the phone on the bedside table and lifted the receiver of the heavy twentieth-century princess phone.  She pulled the table closer and dialed the number to the Triple C as Amy exited Room 258 and closed the heavy wooden door with a heavy metallic click.

    “Triple C, how can I help you?” Joan answered.

    “Hey,” Colleen said in a soft tone.

    “Hey, sweetheart!” Joan said, surprised to hear from Colleen.  “How are you feeling?”

    “Okay, I guess.  What’s goin’ on?” Colleen asked.

    “Not much.  Just goin’ over invoices,” Joan said in a humdrum tone.  “I really don’t feel much like working today.”

    “So don’t,” Colleen said.

    “Well, bills gotta be paid sometime, don’t they?” Joan asked.

    “Are we behind on anything?” asked Colleen.

    “No.  Have we ever been behind on anything?” Joan answered with a rhetorical question of her own.

    “Did we get the Purina invoice yet?” Colleen asked with a light yawn.

    “Uh… Yup,” Joan replied.  “Got it right here.”

    “What are his terms, net thirty?” Colleen asked.

    “Ummm… five percent off net fifteen, full price net thirty,” Joan said.

    “What’s the date of the invoice?” Colleen asked.

    “Five days ago,” Joan said, confused at the line of questioning.  “Why?”

    “Hold off on that one,” said Colleen.

    “Don’t pay it?” Joan asked.

    “Right,” Colleen said.  “Don’t pay that one.”

    “Why not?” Joan asked.

    Just because,” Colleen said with a more serious tone.

    “Okie dokie,” Joan said lightly.  “You’re the boss.”

    “Let’s see how long it takes before he calls or sends an invoice with a late penalty,” said Colleen in a spiteful tone.

    “Are you sure you wanna do that?” Joan asked with care.

    “I’m sure,” Colleen said.  “Just let me worry about that one.”

    “I hope you know what you’re doing,” Joan said lightly.  “We’ve never been late on a payment before.”

    “Yeah, well…,” Colleen said as she stared blankly at the dry erase board on the wall.  “There’s always a first time.”

    “You’re a stubborn woman, Colleen Caldwell,” Joan said playfully.

    “I know.  I come by it honest,” Colleen said.  “Did Amy call you already?”

    “Yes she did,” Joan replied.  “She said to bring your cell phone along with your iPod.  Can you think of anything else you might need?” she asked.

    “Yes.  Bring a box of tampons and a box of pads, will ya?” Colleen asked.

    “I thought you just got over your period,” Joan replied.

    “They’re for Augie,” Colleen said in a lower tone.  “I don’t think she has any, and God only knows what they have for feminine hygiene products here.”

    “Should I just pick up the assorted ones?” Joan asked.

    “Yes on both counts,” Colleen said, back to normal tone again.

    “Okay.  You need underwear or anything?” Joan asked, even though she remembered Amy told her Colleen probably wouldn’t need them.

    “Shit… I wouldn’t be able to wear underwear if I wanted to,” said Colleen.  “But it wouldn’t be a bad idea if you picked up a pack for Augie, though.  She’s a lot smaller than me, obviously.  I would say about a size two.”

    “Okay.  I’ll run up to Wal-Mart before I come down,” Joan said and then paused to write a list.

    “Hey… on a different subject… I need a favor,” Colleen said almost in a whisper again.

    “Anything you need, sweetheart,” Joan said.

    “I know…,” Colleen said.  “But this one’s a little different.”

    “Okay…,” Joan said.  “What is it?”

    “That priest you saw yesterday…,” Colleen began.

    “Father Jones?” Joan asked.

    “Yeah,” said Colleen.

    “What about him?” Joan queried.

    “Well, he’s coming to see you this afternoon when you get here,” informed Colleen.

    “Oh, wonderful!  We had the nicest-“ Joan started, but was interrupted by Colleen.

    “That’s where I need the favor.”

    “Okay… Whaddya mean?” asked Joan.

    “Can you come earlier and go find him so he doesn’t come back to the room?” Colleen asked.

    “Why?” asked Joan, confused.

    “Never mind why,” Colleen said in a suddenly condescending tone.

    “I don’t get it,” Joan said defensively.

    “There’s nuthin’… to get!” Colleen fired back.

    “How am I supposed to find him?”

    “I don’t know, and I don’t care,” Colleen replied.  “I just need you to make sure he doesn’t come back here.”

    “Can’t you tell me why?  What did he do?” asked Joan, worried.

    “Don’t worry about why.  Just do it, okay?” Colleen yelled.

    “I can’t stop him from coming to the room, Colleen,” Joan sputtered.

    “No, but I can if you won’t,” Colleen said in a suddenly calm, businesslike tone.

    “Just calm down, Colleen,” Joan said.

    “Don’t fuckin’ tell me to calm down!” Colleen blurted.

    “Colleen… What’s wrong?” Joan asked as she started to cry.  “Why are you acting like this?  What happened?”

    “Nothing happened!  But that priest does not come back into this room!” Colleen said commandingly.  “You read me?”

    “Why not?” Joan asked, .  “Father Jones is really nice!”

    “Because I said so, that’s why, God dammit!” Colleen warned.

    “That’s ridiculous,” Joan said, brushing her off.

    “Don’t you ever fucking dismiss me, Mother!” Colleen yelled, irritated at Joan’s condescending tone.

    “All right!  I read you!” Joan fired back at Colleen.

    “Good!” Colleen shouted as her heart raced.  “You would think I’m asking you to wipe my ass or something!”

    “I can’t talk to you when you’re like this,” Joan said, giving up a fight she knew she couldn’t win.

    “Look…,” Colleen said, calming a little.  “I don’t ask for much, do I?”

    “No,” Joan said, feeling a little guilty.

    “Then do this one thing for me… please?” Colleen asked, suddenly switching her role to submissive.

    “Okay, sweetheart,” Joan said.  “I don’t understand it, but I’m sure you have your reasons,” Joan said.

    “I wouldn’t ask you to do this if I didn’t,” Colleen said.

    “What time did he say he was coming to the room?” Joan asked, sniffling.

    “I told him you were coming at one o’clock,” Colleen said.  “He said he was gonna stop by then.”

    “So what time do you want me to come and find him?” asked Joan, trying to hold back her tears.

    “I don’t know, Ma,” Colleen said, frustrated.  “I’m tired and my leg hurts.  Can’t you just figure that out yourself?”

    “Yeah, I guess…  I’ll figure it out somehow,” Joan sniffled.

    “What brought all of this on, Colleen?  What’s going on?” asked Joan.

    Colleen slammed the receiver to the cradle with a loud crashing ring.

3

    Sheila Jones had the strange feeling that something just wasn’t right.  She couldn’t immediately put her finger on it, but she felt as if something around her was missing or wrong.  She got out of the BMW and pressed the remote button that armed the anti-theft system with a chirp.  As she searched for the Colony Day Spa master key, the small ring of keys that held the remote rattled like a miniature wind chime in the quiet employee parking lot.

    “What the…?” Sheila asked aloud.  “Who did this?”

    Sheila crossed her arms and shifted her weight as she stared at the building alarm status box to the right of the heavy metal rear door.  The status indicator light on the left side of the lunchbox-sized alarm system blinked a brilliant red, which meant that there was a problem.  The red light put Sheila instantly on edge.  Her heart began to race as she thought about what could have happened.

    Sheila uncrossed her arms and unzipped her purse.  Her cell phone beeped again as she pulled it out, flipped it open and read the pop-up message at the bottom of the screen.

    3 missed calls

    “Shit… that can’t be good,” she said aloud.

    Suddenly something thumped loudly against the heavy metal door from the inside, causing Sheila to look up from the phone and drop her keys.  She felt as if her heart were going to leap out of her chest as she stood frozen in place in the empty parking lot.

    Another thump rattled the door.  Sheila bit her bottom lip as she whipped her head back and forth in a panic, hoping to find someone who could help her.  All she saw was the long, empty parking lot and her BMW in the immediate vicinity.  In the distance, a white delivery truck was parked in the back of Ralph’s Grocery Store on the other end of the Colony Plaza.

    The door clicked heavily as someone from the inside flipped the deadbolt lock, which made Sheila scream in terror.  She took a clumsy step backward and squeezed her thighs together tightly as the pressure from her bladder announced itself with lightning urgency.

    Suddenly the sound of squealing tires echoed loudly from the other side of the Ralph’s delivery truck in the distance.

    “Oh my God!” Sheila screamed.

4

    Colleen closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the thin pillow.  Adrenalin raced through her veins as she replayed the phone conversation in her head.  She asked herself why she acted the way she did toward Joan, since never before had she treated someone she loved with such disdain and condescension.

    Augie sat on the commode in the cold hospital bathroom and tried to accomplish her business.  The pain of her broken ribs stabbed at her chest as she tried to empty her bowels, but had no success.  Menstrual cramps added to her discomfort as she cradled her ribs with one arm, and her tummy with the other.

    “Ugh…,” Augie whispered aloud.  “I really did it this time.”

    Augie’s overly-tanned skin was covered in goose bumps from the air conditioning, which kept the stone tile floor and stainless steel rails too cold for her comfort.  She reached for the hollow metal bar on the left side of the commode, which made a tinny “ping” sound as her wedding ring struck the etched steel.  She grabbed the emergency call bell cord with her right hand and gave it a weak tug, which caused her to wince in pain.

    Colleen opened her eyes as she heard the electronic tone from the emergency call bell.  She thought about calling Joan back and apologizing for the way she lashed out at her in misdirected anger.

    “Can I help you?” a female voice asked from the speaker of the emergency call box.

    “Can you tell Amy that I’m done now, please?” Augie asked loudly.

    “Okay, she’s on her way,” the voice replied.

    Augie leaned forward slightly and resumed cradling her chest and abdomen as she looked down at her toes.  She shook her head and wondered how long it would be before she could paint her toenails again.

    “Disgusting,” she whispered to herself.  “I need a pedicure.”

    Colleen lifted her head and tried shifting her position in the uncomfortable hospital bed.

    “Who the hell is she talking to?” Colleen asked aloud.  “Jesus… who am I talking to?”

    Nurse Amy entered Room 258, closed the heavy wooden door behind her, and then made a sharp right turn toward the bathroom.

    “Knock knock,” Amy called as she rapped on the bathroom door.

    “Come in,” Augie replied.

    “How did we do?” Amy asked as she opened the bathroom door.

    “We didn’t,” Augie said.

    Amy pulled a fresh pair of thin gloves from the pocket of her scrub top and put them on.

    “Do you want me to help you wipe?” Amy asked softly.

    “No… nuthin’ there,” replied Augie.  “Do you know how bad it feels to be constipated with broken ribs and menstrual cramps?”

    “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Amy said.  “Are you ready to stand up?”

    “Yeah,” Augie said.  “I’m sorry, Amy,” Augie said with a sniffle.

    “Awww, that’s okay, honey,” Amy said.  “That’s what we’re here for.  Ready?” she asked.

    Amy helped Augie to her feet and then moved to a position behind her.  Augie held onto the middle of the I.V. pole and guided it slowly out the bathroom doorway toward the edge of her bed.  The wheels of the I.V. pole squeaked as Augie dragged it with her left hand, and Amy followed behind with her hands on Augie’s waist for support.

    “Man, that sucks,” Colleen said.

    “Tell me about it,” Augie said as she turned with her back to Colleen.

    Colleen chuckled to herself as she saw Augie’s bare back and buttocks.  The lid of the cold commode made large imprints across the back of Augie’s thighs, which looked like a large red smiley face.

    “I hear you over there,” Augie said.  “What’s so funny?” she asked.

    “Nuthin’,” Colleen replied.  “All I can say is… have a nice day!”

    “Keep on!” Augie said in a playfully threatening tone.

    “Sorry,” said Colleen.  “Couldn’t resist.”

    Augie used the I.V. pole for support as she sat on the edge of the bed and scooted back.  Amy pulled the I.V. pole out of Augie’s way as she swung one leg over the edge of the bed, and then the other.

    “I’m a mess,” Augie said as she shifted her position in the bed and Amy plugged the I.V. pump back into the red electrical outlet near the call box speaker on the wall.

    “How in the hell am I gonna get to the bathroom if I need to?” Colleen asked.

    “We’ll bring out the bedside commode for you, and you can go right here,” Amy replied.

    “How will I get up?” Colleen asked.

    “Umm… someone will come in with me and we’ll help you when it’s time,” Amy said as she stood up and removed her gloves.

    “Sounds complicated,” Colleen said.

    “No, it’s actually pretty easy if you know what you’re doing,” Amy said matter-of-factly.

    “I hope so,” said Colleen.

    “Hey, who were you talking to when I was in the bathroom?” asked Augie as she pushed her pain button and the PCA pump emitted a beep.

    “Oh… on the phone?” Colleen asked.  “My mother-in-law.”

    “You sounded pretty pissed off,” Augie said.  “I couldn’t hear what you were saying, but you sounded pretty mad.  Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

    Amy threw her gloves in the wastebasket and washed her hands again.  Augie turned her head and looked back at Amy, and then looked at Colleen again, just in case Colleen didn’t want Amy to hear the conversation.

    “It’s okay,” Colleen said as she motioned toward Amy with her right hand.  “I’m so stupid.”

    “Do you ladies need anything else?” Amy asked as she dried her hands.

    “No, we’re good,” replied Colleen.

    “Okay.  I’ll be back in a little while,” Amy said.

    Augie and Colleen paused for a second as Amy left the room and closed the door behind her.

    “Okay… It’s your turn to spill your guts,” Augie said.  “But no crying this time… It hurts too much.”

    “Well, I can’t guarantee that,” said Colleen.

    “I know,” said Augie.  “I just said that as a disclaimer.  Why did you say you’re so stupid?”

    “Because I yelled at my mother for no reason,” Colleen said.

    “I’m confused already,” Augie said.  “I thought you said you were talking to your mother… in-law.”

    “She’s my mother-in-law, but I refer to her as my mother,” Colleen replied.  “I mean she might as well be.  My real mother died in a car accident when I was eleven.”

    “That sucks,” said Augie.

    “Yeah,” Colleen said in a sad tone.  “Fuckin’ drunk driver ran a stoplight and t-boned us broadside.”

    “Shit… did you say us?” Augie asked, shocked.  “You were in the car with her?”

    “Yes…,” Colleen said with a hard swallow and looked blankly at the floor.  “She was killed instantly.”

    “Wow,” Augie said in a serious tone.

    “I don’t even remember the guy hitting us,” Colleen said as she looked up at Augie.  “I woke up and I was like, upside down, sort of.  I opened my eyes, and all I could see was red from all of the blood.”

    “Oh my God,” Augie said as she covered her mouth.

    “I was covered with it,” Colleen continued.  “I like, wiped my eyes, but that only made it worse… I mean… I couldn’t tell where in the hell it was coming from.”

    “Uh…,” Augie said as she closed her eyes.

    “Once I could finally see…,” Colleen started, and then paused to swallow hard.  “I saw that my mother was bleeding really bad… from her shoulder where her arm used to be.”

    Colleen paused as her eyes welled with tears for the second time that morning.

    “You don’t have to…,” Augie said as she opened her eyes and dropped her hands to her lap.

    “It’s okay,” Colleen said as she fought back a tear.  “I don’t mind talking about it.”

    “You sure?” asked Augie.

    “Yeah… I’m okay,” Colleen replied and then paused for a second.  “So her arm was torn off… and I could see blood squirting from her shoulder.”

    “Fuuuck,” Augie said.

    “It was…,” Colleen said, and then paused again.  “Indescribable.”

    “I’ll bet,” said Augie.

    “Anyway… the rescue squad had to cut us both out of the Blazer with the Jaws of Life, Colleen continued.  “That scared the livin’ shit out of me, let me tell ya.  Once they pulled me out, I realized that I didn’t have a scratch on me.

    “You’re kidding me!” Augie blurted.

    “Nope,” Colleen replied.  “And neither did the guy that hit us.”

    “Holy shit,” said Augie.  “So what happened to that fucker?”

    “He was charged with DUI and second degree manslaughter… spent about eighteen months in jail,” Colleen said.

    “Eighteen months?” Augie asked in a pissed-off tone.  “Eighteen months?” she repeated.

    “Yeah,” Colleen said.  “My dad was devastated.”

    “I’ll bet you were, too.  Shit… I’m sorry,” said Augie.  “If Amy was in here, I would have her give you another hug.”

    “I’m okay,” Colleen said as she wiped the corner of her eyes.  “I still have the dress I was wearing the day it happened.”

    “Wow,” Augie said.

    “So… getting back to the phone conversation… why did you yell at your mother-in-law?” Augie asked.

    “I don’t know,” Colleen said.  “I just got really pissed off about the priest thing… and I yelled at her because she asked me a question that I didn’t feel like answering at the moment.”

    “What was the question?” Augie asked.

5

    Sheila’s body shook in horror as the heavy steel door inched open with a high-pitched squall.  The sound of squealing tires at the end of the parking lot was suddenly replaced by the racing engine of a speeding car, but Sheila’s view was still blocked by the delivery truck.

    “Are you Mrs. Jones?” a man in a tan LA County Sheriff’s uniform asked from the doorway

    “Oh, thank God!” Sheila exclaimed.  You scared me to death!”

    “Sorry about that, Ma’am,” the officer said.  “Have you spoken with anyone from the LA Sheriff’s Office yet?”

    Before Sheila could answer, a black and white patrol car appeared from behind the delivery truck and raced toward her with the blue and red lights on top beaming at full force.

    “Fifty one, subject in question appears to be the establishment owner, copy?” the officer said into the radio microphone that was slung over his shoulder.

    “Copy, sixteen,” a male voice replied over the radio speaker.

    The driver of the patrol car suddenly turned off the flashing lights and slowed his speed as he approached Sheila’s position.

    “I am indeed the owner,” Sheila said as she turned her head and addressed the Sheriff’s deputy standing in the doorway.  “What happened?”

    “We received notification of an intrusion approximately fifteen minutes ago,” said the deputy.  “Would you come with me, please?”

    “Sure,” Sheila said.

    Sheila picked up her keys, closed her phone with a snap, and put both items in her purse.  The deputy held the door open and Sheila entered the doorway of Colony Day Spa.

6

    Colleen Caldwell thought for a second about what she was going to tell Augie about her conversation with Joan.

    “It was nothing,” Colleen replied.  “Just about some invoice or something stupid.”

    Colleen felt bad for telling a lie when Augie had been nothing but honest with her.

    “You yelled at her for that?” Augie asked.

    “Yeah, isn’t that stupid?” asked Colleen rhetorically.

    “Well… I’m not being mean or anything… but yeah.  That sounds kind of dumb,” replied Augie.

    “I know,” Colleen said.

    “So the conversation about me being molested by a priest caused you to take it out on someone else?  Your mother-in-law, no less?” Augie asked.

    “I didn’t say I was perfect, Miss Smartypants,” Colleen replied in a high-pitched girly tone.

    “You owe me one gumball machine,” Augie chided.

    “You are just gonna steal that line right from under me, aren’t you, young lady?” Colleen asked.

    “It’s a good line,” Augie said.

    “No…,” Colleen replied.  “It’s a great line.”

    “So let’s move on to the next subject, shall we?” Augie asked.

    “Okay… shoot!” Colleen said.

    “Are you married?” Augie asked.  “I don’t see no rock on that finger of yours.”

    “What do you mean you don’t see no rock-,” Colleen started to ask, and then gasped as she looked at her hand.  “Oh, shit… shit shit shit!” Colleen repeated over and over.

    “What’s the-,” Augie started, but was interrupted by Colleen.

    “My wedding ring’s gone!”  Colleen exclaimed.

7

    Sheila Jones passed by each of the therapy rooms on her way to the front lobby of Colony Day Spa, peering into each room as she went.

    “Everything in order so far, Mrs. Jones?” the uniformed officer asked as he followed Sheila.

    “So far,” Sheila said.  “You said that someone broke in fifteen minutes ago?”

    “I said there was an intrusion,” the officer said.  “I didn’t say there was a break-in.”

    “What’s the difference?” Sheila asked as she closed the last door of the line of therapy rooms.

    “Well, if you take a look at the lobby, you’ll understand,” the officer replied.

    Sheila entered the lobby through the etched glass door that separated the two sections of Colony Day Spa.  She stopped in the middle of the lobby and looked around at the plush white leather sofas and matching chairs, but found nothing amiss.  The front door was propped open with one of the small side tables, and a tall man in his late thirties stood outside, smoking a cigarette.

    The man was wearing a simple gray two-piece suit with cheap black shoes and a Surry tie that didn’t go with anything else he was wearing.  Fake Ray-Ban sunglasses sat low on the bridge of his nose as he spoke into his aging cell phone that looked like a Wal-Mart prepay.

    “Over here, Ma’am,” said the uniformed officer.  “Can you tell us what used to be in this spot?” he asked.

    Sheila stepped behind the counter of the reception desk and looked at the space the uniformed officer was pointing to.

    “Shit,” Sheila said through gnashed teeth.

8

    Colleen sat up and searched the blankets to her sides and on her lap.  She also searched her mind, trying to remember the last time she saw the simple platinum band that held the two-carat diamond solitaire.  Augie watched Colleen for a moment, and then spoke up.

    “I don’t remember a wedding ring, but then again I only have one good eye,” Augie said.

    “I know I had it on yesterday morning when I got up,” Colleen said.  “Do they take your jewelry off before you go to surgery?” Colleen asked as she searched frantically.

    “Actually, I’m pretty sure they do,” Augie said.  “I had to take mine off a few times before, but I was awake before I went into the operating room.”

    “I hope they have it at the Nurse’s Station,” said Colleen.  “I would die if I lost it.”

    Colleen pushed the call button on the bedrail, and within a few seconds, a female voice answered.

    “Can I help you?” the voice said over the speaker.

    “Yes… um… do you know if my wedding ring is at the Nurse’s Station?” Colleen asked.

    “Your nurse is right here,” the voice replied.  “I’ll ask her if there’s anything in your chart.  Can you hold on a second?”

    “Okay,” Colleen said loudly.  “I hope to God that they have it somewhere,” Colleen said to Augie.

    “I’m sure they do if you came in with it,” Augie assured.

    “Colleen?” Amy’s voice said over the speaker.

    “Hey, Amy,” Colleen said.  “Please tell me that you know where my wedding ring is.”

    “Well,” Amy said.  “Usually if you come in with jewelry, they give it to security and put a little label on your chart.”

    “Shit,” Colleen said.

    “Don’t worry,” Amy said.  “If you came in with it, I’m sure that whoever prepped you gave it to security.  What did it look like?”

    “It was a simple round platinum band, and it had a two carat diamond solitaire mounted on it,” Colleen said as she massaged her ring finger.

    “Okay… I’ll look through the chart and make some calls, and then get back to you.”

    “Thanks, Amy,” said Colleen.

    “You’re welcome, sweetheart,” Amy replied.  “It will take some time to look through the chart, but I’ll let you know what I find.”

    “Okay,” Colleen replied with a deep sigh.  “Thanks again.”

    “You’re welcome,” Amy repeated.

    The speaker emitted a loud click, which meant that Amy disconnected the conversation from her end.

    “Hello?  Hello?” Colleen called loudly to make sure nobody was listening.  “Fuck!” Colleen said to Augie.  “If some asshole in this hospital stole my ring, there will be a load of fuckin’ trouble!”

    “Shit…,” said Augie.  “Like I said before… I wouldn’t want to be on your bad side.”

    “I have a hard time believing that you could get on my bad side, Augie,” Colleen said.  “Somebody in this hospital, however, is about to be if they don’t find my wedding ring.”

    “I hope they find it,” Augie said.  “And soon.”

    “Me, too,” said Colleen.

    “So what does it take to get on your bad side?” asked Augie.

    “There are only a couple of things you need to remember to avoid getting on my bad side,” said Colleen.

    “And they are…?” Augie asked.

    “Never steal from me, for one,” Colleen replied.  “If you ask me for something, I will share all I have… If you steal from me, I will take back what’s mine, and everything you have.”

    “Wow,” Augie commented.  “What else?”

    “I have another favorite saying,” Colleen said.

    “You mean besides the gumball machine one?” Augie asked.

    "Yes,” Colleen said.  “It goes like this:  I won't be wronged, I won't be insulted, and I won't be laid a hand on. I don't do these things to other people, and I require the same from them."

    “Who said that?” Augie asked.

    “Marion Michael Morrison,” replied Colleen.

    “Never heard of him, but I like the quote,” Augie said.

    “Yes you have,” said Colleen.  “You know him as John Wayne.”

    “His name… was Marion?” asked Augie with her head tilted to one side.

    “It sure was,” said Colleen.  “Chase’s father and Joan knew him back in the day.”

    “No shit?” asked Augie, straightening her head again.

    “No shit,” Colleen replied.  “The Caldwell’s were old friends of the Wrigley’s out on Catalina Island, and the Wrigley’s were friends with the Duke.”

    “Are the Wrigley’s the chewing gum people?” Augie asked.

    “They sure are,” Colleen replied.  “They are the same Wrigley’s that Wrigley Field in Chicago is named after.”

    “Now that, I knew,” said Augie.

    “Anyway, the Wrigley’s were friends with The Duke for a number of years, and they used to have huge barbeque parties on the island.  The rumor was that Duke held up shooting of The Sands of Iwo Jima back in 1949 so he could go to one of these parties.”

    “Seriously?” asked Augie.

    “Yup!” Colleen replied.  “They filmed parts of the movie on the island… and Duke heard about a big party they were having in honor of the Cubs, so he told everyone to take the day off and he crashed the barbeque on the ranch uninvited.”

    “Ha!” Augie blurted.

    “So he showed up at the barbeque, and everyone knew who he was and that they were shooting parts of the film on the island,” Colleen said.  “And what are you gonna do, tell John Wayne that he can’t come to your party?”

    “You got that shit right,” said Augie, shaking her head.

    “So the rest is history,” Colleen said.  “Every time there was a party or a barbeque or party or whatever, they invited him.  That’s where Chase’s father met him, and they became casual friends.”

    “That’s a cool story,” Augie said.

    “Oh, there’s more,” Colleen added.

    “There is?” asked Augie as she shifted her position and readied herself like a kid watching a magician.

    “Lots more,” Colleen replied.

    Colleen shifted her position in the bed so she could look at Augie squarely instead of straining her neck.  Augie cradled her ribs and tummy as she brought her knees up into more of a fetal position.

    “Okay, I’m ready,” said Augie, excited.

    “Back in early nineteen seventy-six, John was wrapping up shooting on The Shootist at Warner Brothers in Burbank,” Colleen said.  “He was full of cancer and needed plenty of rest… so he called up the Wrigley’s and asked if he could stay at the ranch for a few days.”

    “The Shootist… I have heard of it, but I haven’t seen it,” Augie said.

    “That’s where that quote comes from… the one about being wronged and insulted,” Colleen said.

    “Gotcha,” said Augie.  “I’m gonna have to remember that one.”

    “Anyway…,” Colleen said.  “John went to the ranch for a few days, and it just so happened that Chase’s father and Carlos, my ranch foreman, were out there at the same time.

    “What were they doing there?” Augie asked.

    “Well… Los was known as one of the best trainers on the West Coast, and the Wrigley’s had just lost their lead trainer for some reason,” Colleen said.  “So they hired Chase’s father and Los to come out and show the new trainer the ropes with some of the new stock they bought.”

    “So they were out there at the same time,” Augie interrupted.

    “Right,” Colleen replied.

    “I like this story,” Augie said in a girly voice.

    “I like it too,” Colleen said.  “But I keep getting interrupted by someone.”

    “Ha!” Augie sputtered.

    “You owe me one gumball machine,” Colleen said, and then went right back to telling the story.  “So John sat around and watched Los do what he does best, and he and Chase’s father chatted on and off.  Well, on like the third day Los and Chase’s father were taking a break, and they heard shooting coming from behind the ranch house… which is beautiful, by the way.”

    “Shooting?” Augie asked.

    “Right,” Colleen replied.  “It took ‘em by surprise at first, but nobody got excited or anything… so they went to see who was shooting what.  Well, it turns out that John wanted to go riding, but Lauren Bacall wouldn’t let him because of the condition he was in.”

    “Lauren Bacall was there too?” Augie asked, excited.

    “Yup.  She came out to visit him because she was worried about him, and they were such great friends… plus they had just finished filming together and she knew what kind of shape he was in,” Colleen added.  “As I understand it, Lauren asked the staff to set up some tin cans and stuff so John could do one of the things he really liked to do, which was shoot.”

    “Wow,” Augie said.  “So he even brought his gun with him.”

    “Chase said that his father told him that he never went anywhere without his 1892 Winchester,” Colleen said.

    “I don’t know anything about guns,” said Augie.

    “Well, the Winchester was one of those lever-action rifles that he used in his Westerns… you know the kind where you had to pull the metal loop thing underneath to cock it?” Colleen asked, looking for a sign that Augie understood what she was talking about.

    “Oh right, like the Chuck Connors kind,” Augie said as she nodded her head.

    “Exactly!” Colleen exclaimed.  “How do you know about Chuck Connors?  That was way before your time!”

    “My dad watched reruns of The Rifleman constantly,” replied Augie.  “He used to make me watch it with him on Saturday afternoons… I remember thinking it was cool to see Chuck shoot really fast at the beginning of each episode.”

    “You surprise me, young Jedi,” Colleen said.  “The 1892 Winchester that the Duke used in his Westerns… was the exact same model that Chuck used in The Rifleman.”

    “See?  I ain’t so ‘toopid,” Augie said.  “But let’s not get sidetracked.  I wanna hear the rest of the tin can story.”

    “Okay,” said Colleen.  “So they set up some tin cans on the rail of the fence in the empty lot behind the house.”

    “You said that already,” Augie interrupted again.

    “Right… sorry,” Colleen said, shaking her head.  “Lauren was sittin’ there sippin’ iced tea, watching John take shots at the tin cans.  Los and Chase’s father went over and hung out on the fence so they could watch him shoot.”

    Augie stretched her legs and turned in the bed so that she was back to more of a reclining position.  She cradled her abdomen with her arms and let out a groan.  Colleen stopped telling her story for a moment and looked at Augie.

    “Are you alright?” Colleen asked.

    “Yeah,” Augie replied with a groan.  “I have cramps really bad.”

    “That sucks,” said Colleen.  “Sorry.”

    “That’s okay,” said Augie.  “Continue the story, and I’ll lay here with my eyes closed and imagine it.”

    “You sure?” Colleen asked.  “I can tell you the rest later if you’re tired.”

    “I’m not tired,” Augie replied.  “Just in pain.”

    “Okay,” said Colleen.  “I’m gonna lay back and tell you the story how Chase used to tell it.  It’s his… well… it was his favorite story, and he used to tell it like his father told it to him.”

    “How old was Chase then?” Augie asked.

    “It was before he was born,” replied Colleen.  “Let’s see… if it was in early seventy-six, and Chase was born in June of nineteen seventy-seven… I guess it was about a year and a half before he was born.”

    “Gotcha… keep going,” Augie said.

9

    Colleen leaned back on her pillow and pressed the pain button in her left hand, and Augie followed suit.  She continued telling the story just as Chase told it to her countless times, with added tidbits as told by Carlos.  She thought about how someday she would write the story down for other people to enjoy, because Carlos and Joan added different details that Chase never knew.

    Thirty-two-year-old Carlos Guzman leaned against the chest-high wooden fence with his elbows perched on the top rail, watching each can fall as the six foot, four inch legend took careful aim before each squeeze of the Winchester’s trigger.  Carl Caldwell stood beside Carlos in the early Bicentennial-year sun as the sixty-nine-year-old Duke demonstrated his proficiency with the nearly seven-pound rifle.

    Carl’s attention frequently drifted from target practice as the ageless Lauren Bacall sat in the wicker chair with her legs crossed, sipping her iced tea.  She was wearing dark blue denim jeans and a white, long-sleeved blouse, complete with thick-framed sunglasses and a wide-brimmed sun hat.

    “Good one, Duke,” Lauren said as the last can jumped from the fence nearly fifty yards away.

    “Thanks, Betty,” Duke replied, slightly out of breath.

    John was wearing tan trousers and a red, long-sleeved Western shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

    “Why do you have to call me that?” asked Lauren.

    “It’s your name, ain’t it?” Duke asked as he turned and cradled the Winchester in the crook of his elbow as he leaned against the fence.

    “So now you want me to call you Marion, is that it?” Lauren asked as she pulled her sunglasses further down the bridge of her nose and peered at him.

    Duke ignored Lauren as he turned toward Carlos and Carl.  Carlos stared at the beautiful Model 1892 Winchester and Carl stared at Lauren.

    “Not bad, eh Carliss?” Duke said as he removed a blue handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped the sweat from his brow.

    “Bueno, Senor Wayne,” Carlos replied as he looked up from the rifle.

    “Thank ya… You shoot?” asked Duke.

    “A leetle,” replied Carlos.

    “Set ‘er up again!” Duke yelled as he turned to the young staff assistant who sat in the old World War II-era Jeep to everyone’s left.

    “Tell ya what, Carliss,” said Duke.  “If you’ll… reload my pea shooter here… I’ll let ya take a crack at a few of them bean tins.”

    Carlos was excited beyond belief at the prospect of holding John Wayne’s Winchester, much less shooting with it.  The staff assistant fired up the Jeep and headed down the fence line toward the cans without saying a word.

    “Duke,” Lauren interrupted from her chair.  “Why don’t you sit down and rest for a while… drink your tea.”

    “See what I gotta put up with?” said Duke as he pointed his thumb over his shoulder at Lauren.  “Always tellin’ what’s what.”

    Carl chuckled as Carlos removed his hat and held it with both hands at his waist.

    “It’s okay, Carlos,” Carl said as he moved to the young Double C Ranch Foreman’s left.

    “I’m glad you approve, Caldwell,” said Duke to Carl jokingly.

    “John!” Lauren said in a scolding tone.

    Duke turned around and looked at Lauren, who had leaned forward and removed her sunglasses.  She had her head turned slightly to her left and was peering at Duke out of the corners of her eyes.

    “You’ll have to excuse him,” Lauren said in her trademark deep, sexy voice.  “He’s getting cranky in his old age.”

    “That’s okay, Ms. Bacall,” replied Carl.

    “Oh, you can call me Lauren,” she replied as she leaned back in her chair and held her sunglasses in her lap.

    “I wasn’t cranky until the day I met you,” Duke said.

    “Drink your tea,” commanded Lauren.

    “I guess I… better sit my tired ass down before I… get turned over her knee,” John said.

    “Pfft!” Lauren sputtered.

    Duke handed the Winchester to Carlos as the sound of rattling cans in the distance caught everyone else’s attention.  The young staff assistant set twelve cans in a line on the fence, each about a foot apart.  The bean tins glimmered brilliantly in the afternoon sun as Carlos replaced his hat atop his head and carefully took hold of the Winchester with both hands.

    “Ammo’s on the post,” Duke said to Carlos.

    “Gracias, Señor Wayne,” Carlos replied.

    John turned and walked to where Lauren was sitting and said something to Lauren that Carlos and Carl couldn’t quite hear.  Carl leaned against the fence and stared at Lauren as Carlos began to load the Winchester.

    “How much bullets you wan me to load?” Carlos asked as he looked up from the rifle.

    “All twelve,” Duke said as he moved to a standing position to Lauren’s left.  “If that’s okay with Caldwell.”

    “You leave him alone,” Lauren quipped.

    John pulled the handkerchief from his back pocket with his left hand and wiped his brow again.  Lauren looked up at the hulking legend and whispered something as she bent her left arm and placed her hand over the top of his.  The assistant returned the Jeep to its former position to the left of the group, turned off the engine, and set the parking brake.

    Carl guffawed as he watched Lauren and the Duke look at each other with suddenly saddened eyes.  Even though John was weakened with stomach cancer, his commanding height dwarfed the gorgeous Bacall, but an oddly tender presence between the two legends sent shivers down Carl’s spine.

    “I ready,” said Carlos as he cradled the Winchester in his elbow the same way Duke did moments before.

    “Have at ‘er, Carliss,” Duke said.  “The first two are yours.”

    “Gracias,” Carlos replied and tipped his hat.

    Duke and Lauren whispered a few words to each other as Carl returned to his position at the fence.  Carlos turned and put his right foot on the bottom fence rail as he pulled the rifle’s lever and readied himself for his first shot.

    Duke and Lauren turned their attention to the line of tin cans on the fence in the distance.  Carlos pulled the Winchester tightly to his shoulder as he peered down the barrel, aligned the sights and took aim at the first one.  He steadied the heavy rifle barrel with his left hand and slid his index finger carefully to the trigger and squeezed.

    The Model 1892 Winchester sang a familiar tune as the hammer met the firing pin and sent the projectile down its rifled barrel toward its intended target fifty yards down range.  The first can remained in its place as Carlos missed his mark and hit the sturdy fence rail about 2 inches below the base of the bean tin.  Duke chuckled lightly as Carlos raised his head and inspected the rear sight of the heavy rifle.

    “Sorry, Carliss,” Duke said with a throaty laugh.  “I like the rear sight low.  Set ‘er up a notch and try ‘er again!”

    Carlos did as the Duke instructed and then ejected the spent cartridge from the chamber, replacing it with a new round.  Carl found himself staring at Lauren again as Carlos leaned against the fence again and began to take aim for the second time.

    “Wet the front sight,” Duke called to Carlos.  “Might be a bit dusty.”

    Carlos steadied the rifle with his left hand, licked his right thumb and rubbed the dust from the sight near the end of the barrel.  He then wiped his thumb on his pants and held the rifle’s stock tightly against his shoulder.  Once again, Carlos took aim and slid his finger to the trigger.  He took in a deep breath, let out half of it, and then held the rest of the air in his lungs.

    All of a sudden, Duke blew his nose into his handkerchief with a loud honk, which startled everyone but Carlos.  Lauren jerked her head and looked up at Duke, who was trying to contain his laughter.  She turned and swatted at his chest and the hulking screen legend tried to get out of the way, but Lauren was too quick for him.

    “You’re incorrigible!” spat Lauren as her palm landed squarely on John’s chest with a slap.  “I’m sorry, Carlos.”

    Carlos carefully pulled the Winchester’s firing mechanism as he squeezed the trigger and slowly eased the hammer to a safe position against the firing pin.  He then stepped away from the fence, cradled the weapon and tipped his hat to Lauren without saying a word.

    “Sorry, Carliss,” John laughed.  “Tell ya what I’ll do, my friend,” he said.  “I’m gonna rest these weary bones ‘o mine, and we’ll see if you can knock off all dozen ‘o them bean tins.”

    “No, Senor Wayne,” Carlos replied.  “I shoot only dos and give de gun back.”

    “No… I insist,” Duke said as he made his way to the empty wicker chair beside Lauren’s.  “I’ll keep this pretty lady company and you go ahead.”

    “Gracias, Senor Wayne,” Carlos said as he touched the brim of his hat again.

    “That was a terrible thing to do, John,” Lauren said scoldingly.

    “I was only funnin’ with ‘im,” John said.

    “Ready, Los?” Carl asked Carlos softly.  “Don’t hold back.  Show ‘im whatcha got.”

    “Si, Senor,” replied Carlos.

    “Any time you’re ready, Carliss,” John said as he wiped his brow and sat the handkerchief beside his drink on the small table.

    “Gracias, Senor,” said Carlos.

    Carl moved back a few steps and gave Carlos some breathing room.  Carlos cradled the Winchester in the crook of his arm and rolled his shoulders.  John leaned back and grabbed his glass of tea as Lauren turned her attention to Carlos.  The ice cubes in both glasses of tea rattled a happy tune in the sun as Lauren and Duke both took sips of their drinks.

    Carlos turned toward the fence and planted his feet in the crusty dirt with a stomp.  He took a deep breath and eyed the gleaming cans in the distance, but did not approach the rail where he was leaning moments before.

    “Somethin’ wrong, Car-“ Duke started to ask.

    Before Duke could finish his sentence, Carlos drew the Winchester to his chest and pulled back the hammer with lightning speed.  Carlos fired off his first shot, and the first can tumbled from the top of the fence.  Before the shiny bean tin hit the ground, Carlos cocked the Winchester, brought it to his shoulder, fired off a second round and hit his target dead center.

    “Holy sh-“ Duke started, but was interrupted by the metallic clicks of the antique rifle as Carlos cocked the lever again, sending the spent cartridge flying through the air to his right.  The second can hit the ground with a clang as Carlos continued his barrage on the remaining targets with the speed and skill of an expert marksman.  After each shot, a rhythmic series of metallic click-click-BOOM sounds filled the ears of the surprised spectators, and one-by-one the shiny tin cans tumbled from their places atop the fence.

    After the Winchester’s eleventh click-click, Carlos paused for a second and took aim at the twelfth can.  He aimed carefully at the lower-left corner of the bean tin and squeezed the trigger.  The last bean tin spun in place for a second or two and then fell over on its side, but remained on the top of the fence.

    Carlos turned slightly to his right and pulled the lever that ejected the last cartridge with a bit more force than the others.  The smoking cartridge sailed through the air and landed squarely on Carl’s chest, then disappeared down his shirt.

    “Ouch!” Carl shouted as the hot cartridge stung his chest as it made its way down to his belly and stopped above his belt inside his tucked shirt.  “Dammit, Los!”

    Duke and Lauren suddenly howled in laughter at the sight of Carl untucking his shirt as if he were stung by a bee.  White smoke billowed from the end of the Winchester’s barrel as Carlos turned his head toward the applauding audience of two.

    “Well I’ll be a suck-egg mule!” Duke shouted as he placed his hands on his belly and laughed at Carl’s dance.  “But ya left one on the fence, Carliss!”

    “Que?” Carlos asked as he turned his head and looked at the last can.

    “I don’t think he’s done yet,” Lauren chuckled.

    “He’s done,” said Duke as he brought his laughter to a low guffaw.  “He’s out of ammo.”

    Carlos turned the rifle upside down and put his lips to the open chamber of the smoking weapon.  He aimed the Winchester at the last can, drew a breath through his nostrils and blew into the empty chamber, causing a stream of white smoke to jet from the end of the barrel.  Carl stopped brushing the front of his shirt with his hands and looked up at Carlos, and then at the last can on the fence.

    As if a magical breeze suddenly came from nowhere, the last can rolled slowly off the back of the fence rail and dropped to the ground.  The three spectators held their position in silence for a few moments as their brains processed what they just witnessed.

    “I don’t believe it!” Duke shouted with his eyes wide open.

    “That’s incredible, Carlos!” Lauren chimed in.  “How’d you do that?”

    “Holy fuck, Los,” said Carl softly as he stood and stared blankly at Carlos with his mouth open.

    Carlos lowered the rifle back to the crook of his elbow and turned toward his audience.  Duke and Lauren stood up and gave Carlos a standing ovation as they clapped and laughed.  The staff assistant stepped out of the Jeep and joined in the ovation as Carlos removed his hat and bowed to his fans.

    “How did you do that?” Lauren asked.

    “Mi Padre teach me theez treek when I very young bandito,” Carlos replied as he placed his hat back on his head. 

    Carlos stepped closer to The Shootist and held out the rifle, which still had the chamber open with the lever in the open position for safety.  Duke stepped forward and Lauren joined him at his left side and put her arm around his waist.  Carl approached the group, stood beside Carlos, and put his right hand on the Double C Ranch Foreman’s shoulder.

 “Carliss,” Duke said as his eyes grew glassy.  “I seen a man once… that could do tricks with a knife that would make ya scratch yer head and think.  But I never seen anyone do what you did.”

    “Gracias, Senor Wa-“ Carlos started, but was interrupted.

    “Now lemme finish,” Duke said.  “A man that can shoot a ninety-two like that deserves it more than I do.”

    Duke raised his right hand and placed it gently on Carlos Guzman’s left.  Carlos held the Model 1892 Winchester diagonally across his chest with both hands.

    “You keep this one, my friend,” Duke said in a throaty tone.  “You deserve it.”

    “Senor Wayne,” Carlos said as his eyes welled with tears.  “I can no take thees.”

    “Yes you can… Pilgrim,” John said with a wink.  “And you will.”

    Tears streaked down Lauren’s beautiful cheeks as she looked up at the Duke with an endearing tenderness.

    “What a beautiful gift, John,” Lauren said softly to Duke.

    “Muchisimas gracias, Senor Wayne,” Carlos said as Duke removed his hand and offered the marksman a handshake.

    “You’re very welcome,” Duke said as he shook Carlos’ hand.  “Take good care of ‘er.”

    “I weel,” said Carlos.  “Gracias.”

    “Time to go, Betty,” Duke said as he looked down at Lauren.

    “Anything you say, Marion,” replied Lauren with teary eyes.

    Duke and Lauren remained joined at the hip as they turned back toward the table and wicker chairs.  Lauren looked over her right shoulder at Carlos as they walked slowly.

    “It was nice meeting you, Carlos,” Lauren called as she steadied her hat with her left hand.

    “Nice to meet you, Ma’am” Carlos said as he shifted the Winchester back to the crook of his right arm and tipped his hat.

    Carl Caldwell stood dumbfounded as John Wayne and Lauren Bacall paused briefly at the table and chairs, gathered their drinks and headed toward the waiting Jeep.  The staff assistant hopped in the tan World War II relic and started the engine.  Lauren turned with her back toward the Jeep and Duke lifted her by the waist into the back so that her legs dangled over the edge behind the driver.

    “Oh, nice to meet you, Mister Caldwell!” Lauren called as she scooted her behind further back.

    “Nice to meet you, Ma’am!” Carl replied loudly.

    Duke walked slowly around the back of the Jeep to the other side and hopped in the passenger seat with a brief show of agility.  The Jeep’s exhaust kicked up dust as the assistant gunned the engine and released the clutch.  Carlos Guzman and Carl Caldwell watched the Jeep climb the slow incline back toward the ranch house, and the Duke and Lauren held on as the old vehicle dipped and bumped its way across the lot and disappeared between the buildings.

10

    “My husband would love that story,” said August Riley as she listened to the end of Colleen Caldwell’s tale.  “He’s a huge John Wayne fan.”

    “I used to make Chase tell it over and over,” Colleen said as she turned her head toward Augie’s bed.  “It never got old, and I think he liked watchin’ my face as he imitated John Wayne’s voice.  I always got a big kick out of that part.”

    “So… is the part about blowing the smoke out of the gun and the can falling true?” asked Augie.

    “You can ask my mother when she gets here,” Colleen said.  “When I ask Los about it, he just smiles and asks me if I believe in magic.”

    “I’ll bet he’s something else,” Augie said.  “Does he still have the Winchester?”

    “Shit… he carries that thing around the Triple C everywhere he goes,” replied Colleen.  “He uses it to shoot gophers and snakes and anything else that moves out there.  I swear he could shoot the wing of a bee without makin’ it mad.”

    “He’s that good with a gun?” Augie asked.

    “You bet your ass he is,” Colleen replied.

    “Are the Caldwells and the Wrigleys still friends?” Augie continued her questioning.

    “Yeah… Ma still keeps in touch with the Wrigley daughters,” Colleen said.  “Our wedding present from them was a honeymoon at the Ranch.”

    “Wow,” said Augie.  “So you honeymooned… at a horse ranch.” Augie said rhetorically and tilted her head.

    “No,” Colleen said as she shifted her position.  “We honeymooned… on the horse ranch.  I’ll take you out there someday.  It’s a gorgeous spread with panoramic views… and when we were there for the honeymoon, the only other people on the whole place were personal service staff and a horse trainer.”

    “That sounds awesome,” said Augie.

“It really was the best honeymoon a gal like me could hope for,” Colleen said.

    “We honeymooned in San Diego,” Augie said with a hint of sadness in her voice.  “We went to the zoo… stayed in a nice hotel… that’s about it.”

    “Well, at least you were together,” Colleen offered.  “There are worse things in life.”

    “Don’t I know it,” Augie said.