A limb went missing....

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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Anna Ortiz needed stamps. I took the money from the envelope and replaced it with her requested Valentine booklet that had an assortment of heart postage. As I closed her mailbox door, I noticed an object in the ditch that didn’t look like a rock or something I’d seen before. Probably a tool that gleamed in the sunlight. Lots of tools bounced off of pickups on these rough dirt roads. It was about a hundred yards up, so I drove slowly to see if it was usable. As I got close, I blinked and looked harder, thinking my eyes were tired since the route was nearly finished. I was on a country road, surrounded by pasture and cotton fields. What I saw had no business being in a ditch.

I put the gear in park and sat, staring at the prosthetic leg. A sneaker was attached to the bottom, but from my distance, I couldn’t tell if it was a man or woman’s shoe. The sole wasn’t worn much, nor was the upper part of the apparatus torn or dirty. Do I leave it or take it …..where?

I couldn’t think of an appropriate place to store a lost prosthetic limb. Why would someone discard the piece on the side of the road? That object had a story behind it, but I couldn’t, in good conscience, remove it from the ditch. A person would be more likely to come back to it here, than anywhere else.

Still, I felt guilty as I abandoned the limb that clearly belonged on a person’s body. I drove away from it, but glanced in the mirror several times as if waiting for it to hop up and yell, “Take me, take me!”

Three miles later, I deposited Mr. Mann’s two envelopes, two circulars and postcard from New Zealand into his mailbox. I recognized the photo of the glowworm cave at Waitomo from the one my son sent me several years ago. There isn’t another sight like it and the destination is on my list of places to see.

 I always breathe a sigh of relief when finishing the mail route. I did it now, only the sigh sounded deeper than normal. I knew why. Melanie Anzt was getting more provocative every day. This morning she met me at the mailbox wearing the most see-through negligee I had ever seen. For a woman to wear practically nothing in the middle of February meant something. I’m definitely flattered but all kinds of things are wrong with the situation, the least being, I can’t play on US Postal Service time. Clearly she’s a lonely woman and not happy, since just arriving in the area. Having a husband who works in the oilfield and gone all week doesn’t help. That marriage is doomed to failure if something didn’t change, and quick, because one of these days, a man will come by who doesn’t mind playing on company time.

Jobs were scarce around these parts, but that lady needed to be around folks so she could flirt a little, without causing a disaster. The flash came to me. Brilliant! Edna at the café had been complaining of working too hard. Her protégée, Brenda Yager, left for the university in the fall, and the replacement was not successful. Melanie could flirt all she wanted as long as she knew how to pour coffee and take orders. I called Edna and made the suggestion, telling her where to find Melanie. She seemed receptive.

The drive back to the Post Office was short and I had a smile on my face when I walked through the door. Then I saw Gus’ scowl. The postmaster’s wrinkles were deeper than normal.

“What’s wrong?” I waited before signing out, just in case the problem was Post Office related.

“Did you leave two boxes at the Angles this morning?”

I thought for a moment before the picture of the long boxes was clear. “Yes, about as long as … fluorescent light bulbs.”

“That’s exactly what was in them and Mrs. Angles says they are smashed to bits.”

“When I handed them to the boys, I didn’t hear any moving glass and they seemed well cushioned.”

“Boys?”

I nodded. “The twins must have been home sick.”

“She didn’t mention boys. Said when she found the boxes on the front porch, they looked as if they’d been run over by a truck.”

I looked at him with a raised eyebrow. 

He nodded. “I’ll call her. Those boys must not have been too sick.”

The smile was still in my head when I left the Post Office, but the more I thought about that leg lying in the ditch, the more I tapped on the steering wheel. No sense in staying up tonight worrying about it. Another day in that ditch and a wild animal or rain would ruin it.

Thirty minutes later, a sneaker attached to a metal contraption sat beside me on the front seat. It looked to fit a woman. When I gripped the metal firmly to take it into the sheriff’s office, I had a strange feeling that I was handling a body part that I had no business touching. It was an odd sensation.

Six eyes stared at me as I walked through the doors. Mandy Watkins, the dispatcher and secretary blinked repeatedly, but I knew she was staring at the leg in my hand. Jake, the sheriff, stood up from his desk and walked toward me, a slight smile appearing on his face. A stranger sitting in a chair beside Mandy merely looked at me as if he’d look at anyone walking through the door.

“Where did you find it!” Jake asked me as if the entire county had been looking for the object I held in my hand.

“In a ditch on Farm Road 3260, close to the Ortiz’s.”

He snapped his finger. “I knew it! Mandy, call the Highway Patrol and tell them Jason Dean is at his parent’s house.”

Jake slapped me on the shoulder, took the prosthesis and dropped it on his desk. “Good work, Buck.”

For the second time today, I felt my eyebrow rise in question. He laughed. “Jason Dean stole a car in Lubbock last night after assaulting an officer and resisting arrest. The car happened to belong to a young lady who wasn’t wearing her…” He eyed the metal object on his desk. “…jogging leg. I knew he’d go see his momma. He always does when he’s in trouble, but we had no cause to search the place.” Jake eyed his desk again. “Now we do. It’s just lucky for us, that he tossed the leg out on the same road where his parents live.”

“I delivered a package to Mr. Dean today. Jason was sitting at the kitchen table. I saw him through the window.” I wondered how violent Jason Dean could be.

Jake’s face grew serious. “What time?”

I tapped my finger against my leg, thinking. With a slight shake of my head, I hesitated. “Ten thirty, maybe eleven.”

“We’ve been watching the house since noon. No one has left. The car is probably in the barn.” He slapped me on the back again. “Thanks again, Buck. The officer Jason hit died this afternoon.”

I felt my eyes widen. “What did he hit him with?”

“A brick.”

I exhaled slowly. “What about Mr. and Mrs. Dean?”

“The daughter’s on her way now. We’re hoping she can talk her brother into giving himself up. Jason doesn’t know he killed the man.”

After leaving the office, I scratched my head. Some days aren’t worth getting out of bed for – I felt my face match Gus’ normal scowl. Rescuing the leg did not turn out to be what I had hoped. Some stories don’t have happy endings.