8 hairy legs and 2 swaying udders

Tune in 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.

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A March mid-morning in West Texas can be cold, but today the sun warmed me through the window and I began to feel drowsy - not a good sensation for a mailman with a carload of parcels and envelopes to deliver. I lowered the window to get a blast of fresh air and felt a bit livelier. The bright color caught my eye and I saw something at the edge of the dirt road. After slowing down a bit, I realized instantly what it was and shook my head. I was not going to pick those up. I even held up my hand to cover the sight and pressed the accelerator, determined not to feel responsible for every lost item on my route. The pair of dentures could sit there and rot for all I care. I wasn’t even going to ponder the reason why white teeth and pink gums were sitting innocently on top of a blue calico handkerchief out in the middle of Texas. The thought flitted through my head and I braked to a stop and backed up until I was even with the oddity. I wouldn’t pick them up, but I could take a picture. Two minutes later I was on my way, proud that I didn’t look in the rear view mirror to see if the teeth started chattering.

I knocked on Nina's front door and waited for her to answer. She was home, but having one foot in a cast and using crutches, the lady took longer than most.

"Mornin' Buck."

"Where would you like these boxes, Nina?"

 I stepped past the open door, mindful of the injured foot, and paused in the hallway for directions. I saw she pointed toward the kitchen. When I entered the massive room, I put the parcels on the closest counter and waited for Nina to catch up. She crutched along until she, too, was standing in the kitchen.

"Just leave them right there. I've got something for you to taste."

With an expectant look on her face, she handed me a small slice of cheese from a plate and watched while I ate it. I rolled the curd on my tongue and thought for a moment before swallowing. "Orange."

Nina's face burst into a smile. "Yes!" She reached for a slice from another plate and handed it to me.

I followed the same pattern as before and contemplated the flavor. "Cinnamon."

"Yes! Yes!" Nina nearly screamed with excitement, then suddenly she was serious. "Too sweet?"

I shook my head. "No. I didn't taste any sweetness."

She slumped on her crutches, the smile returning. "You just made my day. I've been working on these for a month. I'm adding them to the cheese line. That will make six flavored and the plain. What's your favorite so far, Buck?"

"Plain."

She nodded. "Mine, too, but people like different."

I surveyed the room and saw gleaming stainless steel counter tops. The room is more than a place to cook breakfast, lunch and dinner. Nina's kitchen is a factory for goat cheese. Her husband raises the animals and milks them. Nina makes it into curds, then presses the cheese, ages it and sells it to all kinds of places.

Nina had already processed the morning milk. The curd and whey mixture sat in the deep heating container. Another mixture looked as if it was resting in the temperature-controlled vat. Against the wall, a mechanical rod that resembled a pie-cutter was slicing through curd that had already been separated from the whey. Later she would season it, put it in molds and store it until somebody tasted it and told her it was good. For a lady who has been making cheese for ten years, she liked to have opinions from a lot of people.

I waved, turned and left the room like I had done for the past three weeks. Nina Fields gets some sort of parcel nearly every day but since she broke her foot, I normally carry the boxes into the kitchen. Three weeks earlier, she tripped over two goats and fell off the porch. It took two screws and day surgery to put her back together. Another week on crutches and she’d be back to her bustling self with only a cast to slow her down.

As I stepped out the front door, I saw them and yelled. "Nina!"

When I heard the crutching stop behind me, I also heard her chuckle. "Just give them a ride to the cattle guard, Buck. You know they like you."

I muttered under my breath and walked to the car. The goats didn't move. I knew Nina and Jaime treated the goats like pets, but some things are outrageous. The black nanny stood on the top of my car next to the circling yellow light as if she belonged. Two others stood on my hood, looking like ornaments. I started the car and hoped they would hop off, but after looking at Nina's face, I knew they weren't going to move. The goat lady gazed at her brood as proudly as any mother whose children were performing. Driving slowly, I pointed the car toward the gate, peering through eight hairy legs and two swaying udders. When I stopped, they promptly scampered from the car and trotted back toward Nina. Goats are a mystery to me, but they must not be to the lady who stood on the porch, scratching the neck of that black nanny.

Before I left the gate, my phone rang and I listened to Jake, the sheriff, as he gave me the brief message. I had to chuckle as I gave him the directions to find the dentures. Cell phones are great for sending pictures and I guess Jake remembered the image I sent to him earlier in the day.

 Mrs. Smith got sick of Mr. Smith clacking his teeth together, bundled them up in a handkerchief and hid them until he promised to use the teeth cement. But she forgot where she hid them. How they got from her house, three miles south, to County Road 3258 was a mystery, but she did remember using a blue calico handkerchief. Jake only knew this because he had lunch with his mother and father, Mr. and Mrs. Smith, and his father couldn’t eat for lack of his teeth.

Some mysteries are never solved and it looks as if this one might fall into that category. I’d keep my eyes peeled, though, for a clue as to how Jake’s father’s teeth ended up on the side of the road. You never know what you will find out here on these caliche roads.