Mae do some amazing things in my time.
"I got a better idea," Willie Mae said. "Why don't you two go looking for her?"
"Come on." Monica headed for the back door. "I bet I find her before you do."
I didn't have much hope of finding her after two days and a bad storm to boot, but I walked around the house and down the sidewalk thinking it wouldn't hurt to ask the neighbors if they'd seen her. Monica disappeared behind Mrs. Moody's garage. I knocked on every door on our block and some on the next block over, but nobody had seen her. As I walked back home, I thought maybe I could make some signs and nail them on utility poles around town. But the minute I opened the front door, I heard a familiar sound, a shrill, annoying bark. Prissy! I hurried to the kitchen and there she was, growling at Booger around mouthfuls of Alpo. Monica was sitting at the kitchen table with a satisfied grin on her face.
"Where was she?" I didn't know whether to be relieved or ticked off.
"Under her own back steps, of course. She'd gone home. J.R., you're such a dodo. Why didn't you look there in the first place?"
I chose not to answer that.
Later, we all got back into the car and drove out to Monica's. The farm belongs to Biggie, but the Sontags, Monica and her parents, live there rent-free for taking care of the place. When we drove into the rutty driveway, Mr. and Mrs. Sontag came running out of the house. Monica jumped out of the car and ran toward them.
"Did y'all see that storm?" she babbled. "We did. Boy, was it a doozy. Blew away half the town. I'm not kidding."
Monica has a tendency to exaggerate.
Mr. Sontag pointed toward the barn. Its roof was gone. The chicken house was nowhere to be seen. The corral fences were broken in several places. And Buster, Monica's dog, came limping out from under the house.
"Buster!" Monica knelt to pet him. "What happened?" She looked up at Mrs. Sontag.
Mrs. Sontag, who is round and rosy like an apple, smiled. "He's just bunged up a little, honey. Daddy found him under a piece of tin that blew off the henhouse. He'll be okay in a day or two."
After Biggie wrote out a check to have the buildings replaced, we got back in the car and headed for town. Personally, I don't remember ever being so glad to get rid of Monica. She was really getting on my nerves.
After supper, Butch and Miss Mattie dropped by to find out how things had gone at the ranch.
"What kind of diet do they have those girls on?" Miss Mattie wanted to know. "I'm putting on a little myself. I might want to try it."
Butch eyed her. "More than a little, if you ask me. Mattie, you ought to exercise more. Me, I never gain an ounce. It's my metabolism. Mama used to always say, 'Butchy, honey, slow down once in a while; you're just wired like a fiddle string.' And I am. I can eat anything I want." He patted his flat stomach.
Miss Mattie ignored him. "So, tell us, Biggie, did you see Rex?"
"I saw him," Biggie said. "He seems to be in real poor health— but happy to meet J.R."
"I bet he was glad to see you, too," Butch said.
"That, too, of course."
"The diet," Miss Mattie prodded.
"I'm not sure," Biggie said. "They seemed to eat the same as everybody else."
"Not exactly, Biggie," I said. "Remember, they drank something before we ate." I turned to Butch. "They drank it out of coconut shells."
"Did they make a face when they drank it?" Butch sipped his tea with his pinkie raised.
"Not that I could tell," I said. "We're going back tomorrow. I'll see if I can find out what it is."
"You'll do nothing of the kind," Biggie said. "It's none of our business. Now, you scoot up to bed. I want to talk to Butch and Mattie alone."
* * *
I stayed awake until Biggie came upstairs. I went to her room and stood at the door in my pajamas. She stopped brushing her hair and looked at me. "What?" I told her what Monica and I had overheard. "Well," she said, "I'm not surprised they're upset at having you show up out of the blue. Don't worry about it. They can't do any harm. Now, scoot off to bed."
Lying in my bed, I thought about Monica, wondering why she