~~~
The summer sun felt warm on Call's face as he loafed on his bench. The gentle breeze rattled the wanted posters hanging on the wall behind him. Call began to feel very sleepy. He pulled his hat down over his eyes and dozed. Suddenly, he started awake. He pushed up the brim of his hat and looked around. Austin was standing close by. He was gazing at a pocket watch in his hand. "I'm late, I'm late!" he exclaimed. Then he turned and trotted off toward the livery.
Curious, Call stood, yawned and stretched, and started after him. "I reckon I better see what he's up to." He was just in time to see Austin disappearing up the ladder to the loft. Lazily, Call followed. When he reached the top, Austin was nowhere to be seen. Call strode to the center of the room, the sound of his clanking spurs muffled in the hay. "Now, where'd he get to?" He began to head over to the window to look down, when suddenly his boot met thin air! "What the . . . ," he began to say as he fell headlong into nothingness. "Austin . . .?" he called.
Call fell down, down, down. As he struggled to right himself, his chaps suddenly inflated, slowing his descent. He began to notice other objects falling around him. He reached out and took a small bottle out of thin air. "Hmmm, . . . snake oil . . . Dr. Cleese must've passed this way," he said. Then he saw a nearly empty whiskey bottle, grabbed it, and looked at the label. "This ain't the good stuff," he said in disgust, but he drained the remaining liquid anyway and tossed the now empty bottle over his shoulder. Suddenly, his chaps deflated, and he began falling faster . . . faster!
WHUMP!! Call landed in a pile of dirty straw.
CLUNK!! The whiskey bottle hit him on the head.
Though a bit dazed, Call couldn't help but notice that the bottle was now full. Turning it around he noticed that the label read, "DRINK ME." "Well, I will later," he said to himself as no one else was around. "Right now, I better see where Austin has got to." He tucked the bottle inside his vest. He picked himself up and started to brush himself off, then he shrugged. What was a little dirt? Call strode off to see what he could see.
After a quick glance around, Call realized he wasn't in Curtis Wells anymore. "Where the blue blazes am I?" he wondered aloud. Suddenly, he saw Austin off in the distance, heading down a dusty trail in a big hurry. "Curioser and curioser," he said to no one in particular and started after Austin. "Austin, wait. Yoo-hoo, Austin . . . ," he called. But Austin had disappeared again.
As he rounded a bend, Call was startled to see, not Austin, but Mosby sitting astride a horse. And not just any horse . . . HIS horse --The Hellbitch!!
"Damn you, Mosby, what're you doin' on my horse?"
Mosby grinned a big white-toothed grin and sprang nimbly onto the branch of a nearby tree.
"Mosby, have you seen Austin?"
"Austin? Hmmm, yes, tall fellow, no direction in life."
"Cut the crap, Mosby, you seen him or ain't you? And what're you grinnin' at?"
Call was becoming annoyed. He drew his big gun, thinking he just might have to shoot the dandified S.O.B. But he was surprised to see that Mosby had disappeared. Well, most of him had. There was just a big toothy grin mocking him from the branch. Soon, it too faded, and Call found himself alone except for his horse. He heard her whinny and saw her disappearing down the trail. Call followed, thinking he would catch a ride back to Curtis Wells. He caught up to the Hellbitch and mounted, noticing with satisfaction that his sawed-off was in the scabbard and his bedroll was tied on behind. He might not make it home for a spell. It didn't hurt to be prepared.
Presently, he came to a fork in the road. "Now, I wonder which way Austin went," he mused aloud. He dismounted, aiming to use his considerable tracking skills, and knelt in the dust.
"That way is nice." Call whirled around and noticed Mosby sitting in a nearby tree. He was pointing to the left fork in the trail. "This way isn't bad either," he said, pointing to the right. "Of course, people do go BOTH ways," he said crossing his arms and pointing both directions at once. Then he disappeared except for the toothy grin. Call didn't wait for it to fade this time, but remounted the Hellbitch and urged her down the right fork in the trail. "Damn you, Mosby," he muttered.
A little further on, Call came to a line shack located conveniently close to the trail. He dismounted, drew his gun, and crept to the door, listening. When he opened the door, he was startled to see that it was exactly like Mattie's gun shop in Curtis Wells, with the possible exception of a cook stove standing in the center of the room. Unbob was standing over a large cauldron stirring something. Mattie was there too.
"More black powder!" Mattie screeched. She was tossing handfuls of the stuff into the air and doing a little dance around the stove. Unbob was sneezing and wiping at his eyes with his sleeve.
"Make her stop, Call," he begged when he saw him standing there. "She ain't actin' right." Some of Unbob's pigs rooted around on the floor at their feet. Mattie kicked at them whenever one ventured too near. The pigs were squealing and sneezing alternately.
"Miss Mattie, don't you go hurtin' them pigs," Unbob said. "They ain't never done nothin' to you." Unbob looked pleadingly at Call for help. When Mattie opened up the stove to stoke the fire, Call noticed that she threw in a stack of trashy romance novels, and the flames leapt up to consume them. Call felt his eyes begin to water. The air was heavy with smoke and black powder. He began to back up. Suddenly, Mattie turned on him.
"Ain't nothin' wrong with wantin' somethin' better for yourself, Call."
Call was considerably alarmed by now. Mattie had resumed dancing around the stove. He stepped back through the door and slammed it after himself. He waited for a moment and was relieved when neither of them followed him. He beat a hasty retreat. He decided to ride back up the trail and take the other fork.
Call was glad that no part of Mosby was anywhere to be seen. But he glared at the spot in the tree anyway as he rode past.
By this time, Call was getting very hot and thirsty. He drew the half-forgotten bottle out of his vest and glanced at the label. "Wonder why it says "DRINK ME"? What else would I do with it?" he mused, taking a big swig. Immediately, he began to feel very strange. And Call began to shrink. Down, down he shrank, and he slipped from the saddle. He found himself clinging to one stirrup." Whoa, girl, whoa!" he shouted at the Hellbitch. But she didn't hear his tiny voice. The reins dragged on the ground. She cropped at bunches of grass along the trail. The mare was enjoying having her head. Just when things seemed desperate, the Hellbitch rounded another curve, and Call saw a building ahead. The Hellbitch headed straight for a watering trough in front of it and stuck her head in to drink. Call began swinging the stirrup until he could reach one of the reins. Then he let go of the stirrup and slid down, narrowly escaping a bath in the trough.
Call stepped quickly out from under his horse's feet and walked around the trough until he was facing the front of the building. Glancing up, Call read the letters on the huge sign, AMANDA'S PLACE. With some difficulty, the dirty little cowboy crawled up the wooden steps and slipped under the door. He seemed to be in some kind of boarding house/saloon. He was surprised to see Luther and Josiah bending their elbows at the bar.
"Hey, Josiah, spare a shot o' Red Eye?" Call yelled up at him.
"Did you say something, Luther?"
Luther wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "Nope," he replied. He turned and spat on the floor, narrowly missing Call.
Call tried several more times to attract some attention before he started to get angry. He drew his tiny gun and fired at Luther's kneecaps.
Luther scratched at his legs and said, "Damn! I must have fleas!"
Josiah moved away from him. "Well, don't give them to me," he said irritably.
Just then, Josiah's elbow bumped one of the shot glasses on the bar and sent it crashing to the floor.
"That was a close one," Call thought. "It just missed my head!" He was astonished to see that the pieces of glass were turning into something else right before his eyes. He walked over and kicked at one of them with the toe of his boot. Could it be cake? "EAT ME" was written plainly on the top. He picked it up and nibbled a little of the frosting. Instantly, Call began to grow. To his surprise, he stopped at about his usual height. Noticing that he still had the cupcake in his hand, Call took another lick of frosting. He'd always wanted to be taller. He inched up a little more. "I must be nearly as tall as Mosby now," he reckoned, and he tossed the remaining cake over his shoulder.
"Oh, Newt, I didn't see you standing there. Come on over and have a drink. Everything will be all right now, Luther, Newt's here," Josiah said.
Just then Austin appeared. "Why is it still about him, Father? I'm your son; I'm the one who stayed." Austin glowered at Call. "I took your place, Brother."
Call walked over to Austin and looked him right in the eye. (This was the first time he could ever do this) "You and me got some things to sort out, Austin . . . outside," Call growled at his brother-in-law.
"Boys, boys, not now." A crazed look came into Josiah's eyes. "Don't fly so close to the sun; you'll get scorched. I couldn't bear to lose either one of you. Come and have a drink."
Austin pulled out his watch and glanced at it. "Not now, Father, I'm late for the game." Without another word, he turned and headed into the other room. Call turned back to the bar and picked up a glass. He downed the shot and then followed Austin.
Amanda, Mosby, and Austin were sitting at a table playing Poker. Call was just in time to hear Mosby say, "Why, my dear, Amanda, I do believe you're bluffin'." Amanda heaved a big sigh and pulled another queen from her ample bosom.
"I saw that, Amanda, I'm going to have to run you in for cheatin'," Austin said through clenched teeth. He started to rise from his chair.
"My big, bad sheriff," Mosby said, grinning ingratiatingly at Call.
Amanda pulled her derringer out of her dress and pointed it at Austin. Sensing the gravity of the situation, Call leapt forward and wrestled the gun from her grasp.
"Get your dirty hands off me, Call!"
"Simmer down, Amanda, you can't go shootin' Austin over a game of cards," said Call.
"Off with your head! Ike'll just take it off outside," sneered Amanda.
"Or we could hang him," Austin suggested hopefully.
"Might I suggest you just hit him over the head with a bottle, as usual," was Mosby's contribution.
"Now you're startin' to irritate me." Call overturned the card table. Then he pulled out his six-shooter and shot nine times into the air. He strode from the room and out the front door.
Outside, Call met Florie who asked him if he wanted to "Voila!"
"Not now, Florie, I gotta figure out how I'm gonna get back to Curtis Wells."
Florie sighed; she'd been looking forward to spending time with the dirty cowboy. She really dug his chaps. And besides, Clay had been acting a little "catty" lately. "I don't know why you'd want to go back to that place, Call. You might as well face it, you're addicted to mud. C'est la vie," she said. "I think I can help you. You've had the ability to go back to Curtis Wells all the time. All you have to do is close your eyes. Now clank your spurs together 3 times and repeat after me, "There's no place like my bench ...There's no place like my bench ..."
~~~
When Call opened his eyes, he was lying on his bench outside the general store. He pushed back his hat, sat up, and looked around. Things were the same as always in Curtis Wells. Tumbleweeds were blowing down the main street. He could hear Twyla arguing with a cowboy over the price of a poke. Looking up, he saw Mosby smoking on his balcony. Mosby was grinning as he surveyed his town.
Call smiled. There was no place like home, after all.
The End
4/2001
