Biggie and the Devil Diet - By Nancy Bell Page 0,48

wondered what was going to happen to all these things now.

Finally Biggie touched my arm. "Let's go," she whispered.

I followed her to the door. Just as she was reaching for the knob, she bent down and examined the wide baseboard next to the door. "There's something lodged here," she said. "And it looks to me like a bullet. See if you can find me a tool to dig it out."

"I don't have to, Biggie. I've got my pocketknife with me." I dug the knife out of my pocket, half expecting to get into trouble for carrying it, but Biggie didn't say a word, just took it and went to work on the slug.

17

By the time we got home, the wind had turned to the north and the temperature had dropped twenty degrees. Willie Mae had made beef stew with plenty of tender meat, potatoes, peas, and baby carrots swimming in rich, brown gravy. She set a plate of hot cornbread on the table to go with it. For dessert, we had crispy fried peach pies. When we finished eating, Willie Mae poured coffee and set cups in front of Biggie and Rosebud. She sat back down at the table.

"You find out anything today?" she asked Biggie.

Biggie sipped her coffee and frowned. "I'm not sure. I certainly found out something about the goings on in that family."

"They don't like each other much," I said.

"That's right," Biggie said. "The only thing they all seemed to agree on was that they loved Rex."

"And he be the one got hisself kilt," Willie Mae commented.

"That's right," Biggie said. "And I'm too tired and full of your good supper to think about it anymore." She got up and stretched her arms above her head. "Rosebud, I think we could have a fire in the fireplace tonight. What do you think?"

"Suits me," he said. "I just cleaned the flue last week. She's all ready to go soon's me and my boy here bring some wood in."

"Rosebud," I said, as we loaded the wood onto the wood cart, "I'm in big trouble."

"You sho is."

"How do you know what I'm talking about?"

"It's plain as mouse turds in a sugar bowl." He grinned at me, showing the little gold hearts, clubs, diamonds, and spades he had built into his front teeth.

"Rosebud!"

He leaned against the woodpile and crossed his arms. "Anybody who gots two women on the string's got trouble. Um-hmm."

"Well, what am I going to do about it?"

"Help me get this wood in the house, and I'll be thinkin' on it."

Once we got the wood loaded in the big copper pot Biggie uses for a wood box and Rosebud had a fire going in the fireplace, I prodded him. "Did you think of anything?"

"What?" Biggie had been dozing in her chair.

"Rosebud's supposed to be helping me with a problem I've got."

"I ain't what you'd say necessarily supposed to do nothing. Still and all, it does put me in mind of the time a black feller I knew got hisself in a similar jam."

"What am I going to do, Rosebud?"

"What do you want to do?"

"That's just what I don't know. Monica's been my best friend ever since… forever. But Misty, she's different from any girl I've ever known. I feel like I've got to take her to the dance. It's not like I've got a choice, Rosebud, I gotta do it!"

"I see what you mean. But, make no mistake about it, boy, you got a choice!"

I sighed. "Well, what happened to the feller?"

"It happened when he was working on a cattle ranch down in south Texas."

"I never heard of a black cowboy."

"They's lots of things you ain't heard of. Now, shut up and let me tell this story. You see this feller needed to make some money so he could marry up with his sweetie back home in Natchitoches where he come from. Naturally, it didn't take him long to figure out there wasn't never any money in wrangling, but that's another story. Anyhow, they put him up in a bunkhouse with a bunch of Mexican vaqueros who didn't speak one word of English."

"They spoke Spanish."

"Ain't you smart? Of course they spoke Spanish, and fast, too. Wellsir, this feller got awfully lonesome, listening to the others rattling away in a language he couldn't understand. Finally, after a while, he began to pick up a word or two here and there, enough to get by on the job, but not much more. Even the foreman spoke Spanish. He used to lay in