Blackjack and Pearl...Chapter 2

Chapter 2                 

        Grub Gulch was a snake of a road. With venomous hairpin turns, and unpredictable obstacles. Cattle were free to roam without taking heed of the cattle crossing signs. Wild turkeys pretended they were as stupid as people pointed them out to be. Oncoming traffic paid no attention to the line in the middle of the road. Crumpled beer cans gravitated too close to the edge of the rocky cliffs, ready to take a dip in the shallow trickle of the Fresno River.

The above mentioned was of no particular interest to the Orlansky’s. They raced up and down this road several times a day, and not necessarily for viewing the scenery. Three or four of them crammed and hunched into the front cab, while Speedster, half border collie and half Australian cattle dog, sat smilin’ and alert in the bed of the truck. They took that dog everywhere.

The Orlansky’s made decent money when they worked, and were creative at making ends meet when there was no work. They could fast talk most folks into anything, and had quite a reputation. Yard sales was their business, and hauling stuff.

Eugene was fond of saying, “We ain’t never got gave  anything,” and then in the next breath, he’d spout out, “We got gave the land.” The ‘land’ being forty useless acres of steep mountain, with just enough of a pad to house a blue double wide. Deb’s mother gave it to them, so they’d have a place to raise the kids. They named it Sky Mountain, after the last syllable of their name.   

Eugene looked and talked like a mountain guy. He was massively built, clean shaven and spoke like a southerner, slow and deep. He was also hardheaded, which drove his wife nuts.

Deb looked and talked like a mountain woman. She was two inches taller than Eugene, had blonde hair struggling to grow past her shoulders, lean, muscular and wore tight Wrangler jeans. She could ride a horse bareback after drinkin’ a six pack, smokin’ a doobie with Harvey Lee and never fall off...most of the time. She talked white trash and crank fast. (Though she swore she never touched the stuff.)

Deb and Eugene had three kids. The oldest son Noah, was handsome like Eugene, but tall and lean like Deb. He was the designated parent of the family at the age of thirteen. Noah was the most mature, and on the occasions when the adult Orlanskys were too drunk, Noah would drive the family home in the their 1976 Ford pickup, on its last cylinder, but still holdin’ together with duct tape and other creative mountain fixin’s.

The middle child was a sweet ten year old girl named Cassidy, blonde like her mom. Cassidy and older brother Noah excelled in school and never seemed to cause any trouble.

Now, the youngest kid was the ‘real deal’ of the Orlansky clan. His voice was so deep you never knew if it was Eugene or the kid talking. He was a pool shark with such a charmed smile, he could get away with murder or whatever he wanted. He was only eight years old, built like a Mack truck, and they called him Mojo. Aka...Eugene Jr.

Halfway into the day, Eugene Orlansky darn near ran Beth Robbins off the road with his semi. She was headed into town and Eugene was returning from town. Beth was on a mission to get more beer for Hanna. He and Deb had already drank more beer. Lots a beer, more than Hanna could drink. Deb was ridin’ shotgun with Mojo in the middle of the truck’s cab. On this memorable sharp curve, Eugene was driving fast, in the other lane, honking his horn...at the oncoming car. Without much time to think, Beth swerved and luckily missed the cliff that would have pushed her and her truck all the way to Milani Ranch...squished dead.

Ranting out loud and forgetting to breathe, she did arrive intact at the Quick Mart, which was next door to Smitty’s 19th Hole Hitchin’ Post, Family Restaurant, Bar and Grill; where Eugene and Deb had just finished drinking twenty minutes ago. Beth Robbins walked inside, said hi to the clerk and grabbed Hannah’s twelve pack, a bag of pretzels, cat food, paid with cash, got back in the truck and headed home.

About three miles from home, Beth noticed someone had knocked her ‘For Sale’ sign down again, so she pulled to the side of the road. It was a common sabotage ploy with mountain people. They didn’t care for neighbors, and preferred property not to sell, preferring to use the land as their own.

  Hovering in the shade of green shrubbery, the hodgepodge collection of eleven mailboxes represented the entire population of Grub Gulch. It used to be a gold mining town in the late 1800s, with population over a thousand. A fire broke out and obliterated the town. All that’s left is the river, and a stone monument donated by the Clampers. The town had been named Grub Gulch because a miner always knew he’d dredge enough gold out to pay for a meal.

A roaring thunder just about popped her eardrums as Harvey Lee came flying around the bend on her motorcycle, all Marlon Brando-like. Skidding to a stop smack dab in front of Beth.

“Heyyyy, well look who’s here,” she grinned, pulling off her helmet, revealing black, misbehaving, scrunched up hair.

“Yeah...well I almost didn’t make it...here. Those gall darn Orlanskys ran me off the road...almost,” Beth said.

Laughing, Harvey Lee said, “I was having a beer at the Hitchin’ Post while they were there.” The lines around her eyes crinkled into playful crow’s feet.

“They’re nuts,” Beth muttered.

Laughing again, Harvey Lee bends down and grabs the sign.

“Down again, huh?”

“Since this parcel borders the Orlansky’s, who you thinks responsible?” Beth asked.

Harvey Lee just shook her head, and stuck the sign back in the ground.

Reaching for the mail, the mailbox instead of opening, decided to slide right off the wooden post, crashing into the dirt below, scattering little white larvae everywhere.

“Eeeeeeew! Beth screamed, shaking her hand frantically, where several had landed.

“Whoa...maggots, Harvey Lee said. Her eyes following the erratic scattering below with awe.

The maggots squirmed and slithered in the dirt.

“What the heck is this?” Asked Beth with disgust. “I swear, it’s just one exciting thing after another here in the mountains. Is this another Orlansky prank?”

While she was busy blaming everything on the Orlanskys, Harvey Lee kicks the mailbox and more maggots slid out.

“Got any tools with you?” Harvey Lee asked.

While Beth was searching behind the back seat, Harvey Lee shouted, “This might be a bit more complicated. The piece of wood is rotted. That explains the maggots.”

“Oh shit. Well, I’ll tell Hanna to fix it later. Thanks for trying,” Beth managed a smile.

“Hey, I got wood at home. I’m right around the bend, just take me a minute,” she said carefully placing the mailbox on the post. “The Post Office won’t deliver until you get it secure, you know.”

“Well, gosh dang, Harvey Lee...thank-you. You’re just the best neighbor,” Beth gushed with exageration.

As if trying to change the subject, “Hey are you two going on the cattle drive this weekend?” Harvey Lee asked glancing down the row to the mailbox disguised as a cow. “Everyone’s meeting at the Silva Ranch this Sunday at 7 am. Trailer your horses and unload ‘em at the pen area.”

“First they brand them, then castrate the poor guys, then we drive ‘em down to Antonini’s ranch. Run ‘em right down the road. Oh, and Ronna makes everyone breakfast. It’s fun. You should see Mojo workin’ the cattle!”

“How darn exciting is that? I wanna do it. Would you help us trailer our horses...we have no clue how to do that,” Beth asked, pretending to hang her head in shame.

With a grin, Harvey Lee said, “ I’ll be there at 6:30 on the dot...Saturday morning.” Revving her engine, Beth watched as Harvey Lee sped off, leaning her Motorcycle low and into the bend.

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When Beth Robbins got out of the truck to open the gate, she spied the raggedy old truck parked down below in their parking area. After closing the gate, Pearl comes trotting up, her tailed curled in a perfect O, and acted like she was happy to see her. Pearl was crafty. Always lookin’ for a way to escape. On the fly and sly as a winter fox.

Beth got back in the truck and coasted down the paved driveway, with Pearl following. At the patio table sat the Orlanskys and Hanna. Smashed beer cans were scattered all around, along with a couple soda cans.

Mojo sauntered over sporting an oversized baseball jersey and a winning smile. He looked about sixteen years old. He said hi to Beth with a deep voice meant for a man. They all had big grins on their faces. She knew what they were thinking.

“Uh huh, I almost got run off the road thanks to you guys,” a snideness sizzling from her eyes.

“Man, we’re sorry ‘bout that. Ya gotta be careful on that road.” Eugene spoke in the same deep voice as Mojo, but slower, as if he were sincere and she was at fault.

“I was on my side of the road,” Beth tried to reason, which didn’t seem to matter to anyone.

Deb laughed and said, “We just came from the Hitchin Post after havin’ a couple beers, and Mojo was just bein’ a little pisser.” She looked admirely at her son.

“That’s my boy,” Eugene drawled as he Dutch-rubbed Mojo’s short-cropped head. Mojo just put up with it, like a big Raggedy Andy doll.

At a loss of anything else to do, Beth walked into the house, and put the store bought items away. She wondered briefly why Hanna was so quiet. Then poured herself a red wine, grabbed the pretzels and headed out to join Hanna and the neighbors.

  There were stories being told that night. About the other odd neighbors, the hidden crops, and the meth labs. The sun fizzled and sank behind the western mountains as Madera lit up, sprinkling pin pricks of light interspersed amongst the rolling hills and trees. Pink and red ribbons of sky outlined the hills bound for the flatlands. The traffic dies down on Grub Gulch after six pm and then stark quiet descends. All except for the bull frogs in the pond, the crickets, the Orlanskys and the two gals. Their volume was cranking up louder and louder, competing with the frogs. Everyone was getting snockered, Beth included.

  Around ten, Mojo wanted to go home. Said he was tuckered out. Nobody should have been driving that night, but the Orlanskys stumbled into the truck anyway. Hanna walked up to open the gate. They drove home to Sky Mountain buzzed, zig-zagging the whole way.