Tune in every week to read about the adventures of Buck Buchanan,
fictional country mailman, delivering mail out of Starz, Texas. He takes his
job seriously and knows that customers count on him to deliver every piece of
mail entitled to them. He is all about customer service. With a willing ear and a helping hand, Buck Buchanan goes the extra mile.
* * *
I
glanced at the clock on the dash. Perfect. Leaving the Post Office by 9:15 means
I'll have a good day. No phone books to deliver - not many parcels and even
fewer circulars - just the regular mail. Nothing out of the ordinary. Then I
felt the tire flopping and couldn't keep from swearing. Drat these caliche
roads! They are covered in nails, wire and years of objects just itching to
snag a tire.
After
surveying the damage, I took a screw from the dusty compartment under the dash.
The large nail impaled in the tire wasn't hard to dislodge nor was inserting
the large screw. It took just a few minutes to twist it in the rubber and I was
satisfied when I didn't hear air leaking any longer. The rest was rote action:
plug the air compressor into the auxiliary receptacle and wait ten minutes for
air to fill the tire, something I had done often in the last twenty years of
carrying mail.
But
today is different. A ten-minute walk is a good beginning to the weight-losing
regime I promised myself I'd start. And the main road is the perfect goal. After
reaching pavement I waited a minute, knowing the man approaching in the red
pick-up would need an explanation as to why I was afoot. Glen Allison usually
pulls me out of the mud when I get stuck. His cell number is first on my
emergency list.
"Need
help?"
I
shook my head. "Not today, just a flat. I thought I'd take a walk while it
aired up." I patted my belly and he nodded as if he understood even though
he has never seen the dark side of large.
Glen
placed his forearm on the open window as if he was going to stay awhile.
"I talked to Jake this morning. Seems as if a prisoner escaped last night
from the county jail. He is plenty mad that he had to miss his breakfast."
I
nodded and stepped back, knowing that if I didn't, my tire would explode before
Glen finished talking. I liked the man and he has saved my hide many times but
his tongue is busier than any myna bird ever thought about being. Thankfully,
Glen waved and pulled away, headed toward the cotton gin.
I
had to smile at our county sheriff's displeasure in missing his breakfast at
the cafe. Young Brenda Yager just started working and met everyone at the door
wearing a cute little apron that made a man who hated eggs want to eat
breakfast. She had plenty of everything a woman needs and didn't mind showing
it. Time sure did fly. I remembered her running down to the mailbox every week
in late July, expecting a package for her birthday. Her daddy never forgot her
birthday. He didn't remember her any other time of the year, though - at least,
not by mail.
A
week ago, I hadn’t thought twice about putting the cafe mail in the old beat-up
mailbox Edna used. Somehow after Brenda started working, it just didn't seem
right. So, I hand-delivered the letters and newspapers into the cafe right into
Edna's hands. Never mind the raised eyebrow or the snide remark. She'd be right
proud of the new mailbox sitting in the back of my SUV. But I'd install it
later on in the week when things weren't so rushed, or maybe next week.
Six
hours later, all but two parcels and three letters were left in the tray on the
front seat beside me. All was going well. The tire had held and I'd get it
fixed when I finished. I rapped on the frame of the slightly faded screen door,
opened it and yelled, "It's just me, Annie."
After
putting the two boxes on the yellow wooden table, I sat down in my usual spot
and waited for the seventy-year old spry woman with cropped gray hair to come
bustling from the back porch. She had waved at my entrance and knew I was
there. I recognized the usual pink shorts and top.
"Hi,
Buck!"
Annie
Oakley Grayson always acted glad to see me. I'd been drinking afternoon coffee
with her every day for five years. "How's that new grandbaby?" I
asked, taking the hot cup from her hand.
"He's
the cutest little thing I've ever seen," she replied, her eyes twinkling.
"He could be the sweetest one."
I
smiled. Annie said that about every grandchild that came along. So far, there
were four. Ten minutes later after finishing the coffee and replacing light
bulbs in her back closet and on the front porch, I headed toward the last
houses on my route. A mile down the road, I saw a man dressed in a work shirt
and jeans walking across the south end of Ben Love's section. Nobody walked in
the middle of a plowed field, the dirt was loose and the rows too narrow for
comfort.
I
picked up my cell and pressed the second button on my emergency list.
"Jake, you might find your escaped prisoner on the south end of Ben Love's
place, about a mile from Annie's house."
I
held the receiver away from my ear as Jake's voice rose to a level that wasn't
comfortable. "I'm just guessing, Jake. I don't know for sure. But you need
to hurry. I figure he's hungry and thirsty and it will take him fifteen to
twenty minutes to get to Annie's house."
I
listened again. "Yeah, yeah, I'll keep my eye on him, but call Annie and
tell her to get her gun handy just in case. I don't have her number."
Again,
I held the receiver away from my ear. "I don't think I need to go back to
her house. She has her mail and I saw her shoot a rabbit at twenty yards with
that shotgun of hers. A man is a lot bigger."
Twelve
minutes later, two county sheriff cars converged on the poor guy who had to be
tired from trudging through the freshly plowed field. When I saw I wasn't
needed any longer, I delivered the last of the letters and drove to the Post
Office. A few chores later and I was ready to wind up the workday.
"See
you tomorrow," I said to the postmaster as I walked to the back door after
signing the time sheet.
"Anything
out of the ordinary happen today?" he asked in a tone that told me he
didn't want to hear about any problems.
I
paused before answering, reviewing all that occurred. "Naw, just a regular
day."
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