Jelly Roll Rogers lay on his stomach, peering through a small hole in the wall. He could see the dusty sunlight, smell Mincemeat Max’s stale breath whistling next to him, feel the cool engraved barrel of his Colt against the side of his nose.
“The Pooridge Boys ez back for their haul, eh, Mincemeat?”
“I reckon they arrrre,” said Max. He’d spent his boyhood riding the tides of the Baltic Sea with some loot-lusting pirates and could never break the habit of drawing out his r’s.
“Well, they’re just standing there, hanging at Salty’s Saloon, waiting fer us. They don’t know we’re in here, so I sez we jest sit tight and wait for sundown. You know, to let the ladies and chirruns leave town, eh Mincemeat?”
Jelly Roll grinned a crooked grin and rolled onto his stomach. He folded his arms across his chest and propped his head against the wall. Mincemeat shifted so he was more comfortable, but kept his eyes closely trained on the Pooridge Boys, who were indeed lounging outside Salty’s Saloon. He felt a line of sweat slip down the back of his neck.
Jelly Roll found a shard of wood on the floor and began to pick his teeth with it. The splinter proved useful, so he attempted to clean under his fingernails. The dirt was darker and thicker than he’d expected, so he brought his fingers close to his watery eyes, to better examine the foul-smelling remnants of the past. The greasy, moist finger-dirt proved a fertile ground. Jelly Roll’s eyebrows rose when he dug particularly deep under his pinkie and discovered a seed sprouting. He maneuvered the dirt out and examined the tiny, white shoot.
“Wharrrrr you doing over there, Jelly Roll?”
“I got some dang plants growing in my ex-trem-i-teeeez.” Jelly Roll swept a hand across his pants and the fingernail debris scattered across the floor. The slim white sprout, almost translucent, fell next to him and he spat, covering it in thick, black chaw.
Jelly Roll pulled his ten-gallon over his eyes and said, “Mincemeat, you jest keep yer peeps on them son-of-a-bitches and let me know when we’s gonna have our fun. Until then, I’m gonna say-yes-ta a siesta.”
“Alrrrrrrright, Jelly Roll, but what if the Porridge Boys try to get started before sundown?”
Jelly Roll nuzzled deeper in his hat and his voice was muffled when he said to Mincemeat Max, “Mincy, there’s two types of buzzards in these parts. Ding-dings and weenies. A ding-ding is a sharp shooter who’s afraid to get his boots dirty. A weenie’s got the dirtiest damn shoes this side of the Mississippi, but ain’t got nothing near a bullseye in him.”
“Which is the Porridge Boys?”
“They ain’t neither. They jest a bunch of tumbleweeds, passing through town and stirring ep dust,” said Jelly Roll and he began to snore.
Mincemeat Max, nervous by nature, continued to fidget as he waited, watching the menacing Porridge Boys through his hole in the wall. He was sure they were going to make a move soon, he just didn’t know when….
…..Stay tuned for more Adventures of the Baker’s Dozen!
By Acacia Jones
