“I sorry about Moses, ” Possum was talking to Hoss now.
“Well, little buddy, what you did was wrong, ” Hoss answered.
“B’lieve me, I know, Hoss. But I was scared and Smoke woulda killed me or beat me bad and maybe drowned Popeye if I hadn’t pulled the trigger. I wish I could do it over and run away before it was too late. But it is too late, and here I am in the clubhouse. ”
“You gotta make it right, Little Buddy, ” Hoss said from beneath his white ten-gallon hat. “What’s done is done, but it ain’t too late to make it right. ”
“How?” Possum asked Ben this.
Ben was sitting high on his horse, ready to ride off to Carson City on an errand. He looked down at Possum and smiled a little.
“Why don’t you start with calling Moses and apologizing?” he suggested, flicking the reins. “Then you’re probably going to need to turn yourself in to Sheriff Cof-fey, ” he added as he galloped off.
Possum sat in the dark and slowly flipped open his cell phone. His heart thudded and he strained to make sure no one was stirring inside the RV. He heard not a sound and called directory assistance and for fifty cents was connected to the hospital where he’d heard on the news Moses Custer was a patient.
“Moses Custer, please, ” Possum said quietly.
“What’s your name? He’s only taking calls from people on his list. ”
Possum groped for a way to trick the lady. “I number three on his list, ma’am. ”
He heard her checking and hoped Dale Earnhardt’s number would prove lucky. It did, sort of.
“It says Mr. and Mrs. Brutus Custer, so which are you?”
Possum had a high-pitched, soft voice that could easily pass for a woman’s. He was a bit offended but knew he didn’t sound like a Brutus.
“This Mrs. Custer, ” he said. “I so worried about my daddy-in-law. I can’t sleep or eat. Tell him if he don’t feel up to talking, I’ll try another time. ”
Possum had given the receptionist an out, and was getting cold feet himself. Then Ben Cartwright turned around in the saddle and looked sternly at Possum.
“Hold on, ” the receptionist said.
“Hello, ” a male voice was on the line. “This Jessie? How you doin’, baby? Why ain’t you come to see me yet? I’m going home today. ”
“Mr. Custer, this ain’t Jessie, but I just got to talk to you. So please don’t hang up. ” Possum’s heart was beating so hard he thought it might break his ribs.
“Who is this?” Moses was instantly suspicious.
“I can’t tell you ‘cept to say I’m so sorry for what happened to you. It was wrong, wrong, wrong, and I didn’t mean it. But I was forced. ”
“Who is this?” Moses demanded in an upset voice. “Why you be messing with me? You one of them pirates, ain’t you!”
“Yes. But I don’t wanna be, ” Possum confessed.
“The hell you don’t wanna be. I knew quick enough you wasn’t Jessie, ’cause you don’t sound like her. ”
Possum took a deep breath. “I can’t talk long. But I just wanted to tell you I sorry for what I done and if I can find a way to make it up to you, I promise I will, Mr. Custer. And you be sure to keep lots of police around, ’cause them road dogs is already talking about finding you and finishing you off. Their leader’s name is Smoke and his girlfriend’s Unique and shot that poor Seven-Eleven lady last night, and Smoke say he kill me if I didn’t shoot at you when we took your truck and the reefer at the pumpkin stand. ”
“Sons of bitches! Let ’em show their asses and then they’ll see what trouble’s all about!”
“I do my best to talk ’em out of it. ”
“You? Who the hell is this… ?”
Moses was yelling, and Possum, beginning to panic, ended the call.
“What the fuck’s going on in here?” Smoke suddenly swung open Possum’s bedroom door. “Who you talking to?”