Return with us if you will, to the events of a particularly muddy day in Curtis Wells. Call, having just stolen an apple from Mattie, chawed the meat from the core as he ambled down the boardwalk. Having no handy receptacle to dispose of the remains (not that he would have used it anyway), Call tossed the core nonchalantly over his shoulder into the quagmire loosely called a street. As you may recall, if you didn't fast-forward through the scene or indeed the whole episode, (we don't know, was Mosby even IN that episode?) someone was following the Callster. Someone scary. Someone with an axe to grind. Someone, well, you get the idea. Now, our hero, Call, promptly disposed of the wretch, but that's not what's important here. What IS important is what happened to that apple core. You may recall what happened next. The soon-to-be-deceased, jaywalking wretch stepped on said apple core and ground it into the mire, where it remained buried in dirt. Dirt with a lot of moisture in it. Dirt with a rich mineral content, courtesy of many horse chips. In short, (no, we're not talking about Call here <g>) the apple seeds planted in this bizarre incident had everything needed to grow, nay FLOURISH, in the bog known as the main street of Curtis Wells.
Fast forward. (It's ok this time; go ahead.) One day when Unbob Finch was wandering down the main street of Curtis Wells minding his own business, he saw a very peculiar sight. What was this? A bit of green was poking its head up out of the erstwhile barren soil in the very center of Main Street! Unbob stopped dead in his tracks and bent to examine the object. Having ascertained that yes, it was indeed a real plant, he straightened up again and raced off to find somebody to tell. The first person he saw was Call, reposing on his bench. (Now we all know that Call is not REALLY asleep. He's just pretending so he can keep an eye on the Mose.)
Anyhoo, Unbob advanced on the recumbent bounty hunter. "Mr. Call, Mr. Call, ya gotta come look! It's right there in the middle of the street! Ya gotta see it, Mr. Call!"
Call pushed up the brim of his hat and regarded the lanky fellow with mildly disguised irritation. "What d'ya want, Unbob? Can't you see I'm in the middle of somethin' here?"
"Ya jist gotta come, Mr. Call! Ya jist gotta see it; that's all."
"Maybe later; I'm busy." With that Call replaced his hat over his face and resumed his customary slouch.
Just then Unbob caught sight of Austin hauling a criminal off to jail. He scurried across the street to discuss the urgent matter with the sheriff. "Sheriff Peale, Sheriff Peale, ya gotta come! There's somethin' ya gotta see right over there!"
"Right over where, Unbob? Can't you see I'm busy? I apprehended this dangerous criminal tryin' to leave Twyla's without payin'."
"It'll only take a minute, sheriff, honest."
"Maybe later, Unbob. Why don't you get Call to look at it with you?"
Unbob didn't waste any more time arguing with the sheriff. This was too important. He decided to head straight over to the big man. He would know what to do. He found Luther tipping back a cold one at the Number 10. "Mr. Root, Mr. Root, ya jist gotta come see this! Ya jist gotta!"
"Now hold on, Unbob. Here, have a drink." Luther seized a whiskey bottle in his meaty fist and called for another glass.
"No, no, ya gotta come now before somethin' happens to it!" Unbob insisted.
"All right, Unbob, no need to git so all-fired excited. Let's go."
Soon the two of them were bending over the shoot, examining it at close range.
"By damn, if that don't beat all -- a plant growin' right here in the middle of the street!"
"What're we gonna do with it, Mr. Root?"
Luther stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Well, I reckon this sort of thing needs t' be protected. If it was me, I'd pen it in somehow -- build some sort of fence around it."
"Ya mean, like I did fer my pigs?"
"Yup, real tall-like, so nothin' can get at it," Luther answered him, hiding a smile.
Unbob knew where there were some spare boards, and he thanked Luther and hurried off to get them.
Luther slapped his knee in silent mirth and returned to his half-finished bottle.
Later that day, Mosby, returning from whatever place he goes to in the Mosby-less episodes, was appalled to see a wooden barricade erected in the middle of HIS street. Barring his way was a helter-skelter assortment of wooden barrels and planks. Thunder reared at the sight and nearly unseated the Southern colonel.
"Easy, big fella," Mosby soothed his mount. "What the hell . . .? You there," he called to some extras strategically placed in his line of vision, "What's the meanin' of this?"
Call, being disturbed yet again from his slumbers, pushed his hat up and smirked at the town proprietor. "What's all the fuss about, Mosby? I think it looks right purty."
Mosby rolled his eyes. "Go back to sleep, Call."
Just then Unbob appeared on the scene, dragging more lumber and some barbed wire. He dropped his supplies and leaned over the makeshift wall to examine his precious seedling.
"Just what do you think you're doin', Unbob? Erectin' another one of your whirligigs? How's a man supposed to get to the livery?"
"It's a sprout, Mr. Mosby, an honest-to-goodness sprout! Come look."
"What . . . what're you talkin' about?" Mosby sputtered, getting down off his high horse (er, tall horse). He leaned over the barrier to see what Unbob was talking about. He squinted. "What . . . I don't see anythin'."
"Look there," Unbob replied, pointing to the ground. "It's a sprout!"
Mosby squinted. "For God's sake, Unbob, it's just a weed. What made you think you could block off my street for a mere plant? I just can't have you doin' this."
"Well, Mr. Root said to build it. You know, Mr. Mosby, like I did for my pigs -- t' keep 'em safe and all."
Mosby shook his head. "You mean to tell me it was Luther's idea to build this thing?"
"That's right, Mr. Mosby. You know, t' keep it safe. It might be a purty flower or even a tree! We gotta protect it. Who knows what it might grow into?"
"Damn it, Unbob, just get a shovel and MOVE the thing! Plant it somewhere else -- anywhere else. People have to get through here. The stage has a schedule to keep. Luther ought to know that."
Seeing Unbob's crestfallen expression, Mosby took another tack. "Very well, Unbob, you can plant it out behind the gun shop. No one will harm it there, and you can keep a close eye on it while it grows."
Unbob brightened at the prospect and went straight to work.
As Mosby went about his business of empire building, Call went about HIS business -- smirking at Mosby. But later that same day, Call's smirk was removed from his face more or less permanently. Enona stopped by to tell him she was pregnant. Call would soon have a little sprout of his own.
The End
10/2002
