Last week,
we left Frankie T and Chet at Applebee’s where Frankie presents a bill marked
paid by the local steel company for 15K of Chet’s money, a draw on a barn
Frankie T has promised to build.
Through
tears, Frankie T explained that his wife had been diagnosed with stage four
cancer and had been in MD Anderson hospital in Houston for three weeks, but
home now. Chet regretted his anger and
asked what he could do to help.
Frankie T
wiped away a tear. “Much obliged, but the ladies at the church are takin’ care
of us real good. Don’t know what I would
do without ‘em.”
He blew his
nose into a handkerchief as he handed Chet another invoice from the steel
company for twelve thousand. “That’s for
the rest of the steel. I’ll start work
on getting her up next week if the ladies from church can keep lookin’ out for
the wife.”
Chet couldn’t
help but notice that the handkerchief that covered most of Frankie’s face had
the look of a mask, but he still cut a check, feeling good that he had now paid
twenty-nine thousand of the forty thousand total cost of the barn.
Five weeks
passed. No framing for the barn. No steel delivered. No Frankie T. Falwell. No answer on phone calls. Chet went to the steel company and inquired
about his steel. It seemed that the
invoices he had seen were for other
jobs for other people that Falwell
had paid with Chet's money.
The steel
company clerk wondered why Frankie T had asked for fresh invoices with current
dates, but was happy to oblige when presented a check on Chet Hunt, a respected
name in the community. Nobody at the
steel company knew anything about Frankie T. Falwell’s wife or her cancer.
A worker in
the steelyard stopped Chet as he was getting into his pickup to leave. “Ain’t none of my business, but I heard about
you and Frankie T. He brought a lady to
our church some when he first started comin’, but nobody’s seen hide nor hair
of her for a long time. My wife and the
other church ladies think she’s in a cancer hospital in Houston, but I got my personal
doubts he’s even married.”
Furious,
Chet devoted his life to searching for Frankie T. Falwell, and found him by
sheer coincidence. Both were collecting
mail at the United States Post Office in Greenville. Frankie T. saw Chet first and ran for his
truck.
He was
emerging with a tire iron when Chet caught him with an elbow upside the head
and a hard right cross that sent him to his knees. Frankie T. covered his face with both arms
and yelled for help. Chet was kicking
him in the ribs and challenging him to get up and take his medicine like a man
when the police arrived and arrested Chet.
Seems that
attacking someone on federal property is a lot more serious than attacking them
someplace else. Chet had to hire a
lawyer to get out of jail. The post
office episode cost him five thousand dollars in fines and legal bills and
ninety days in jail. Total cost of doing
business with Frankie T. Falwell:
Thirty-four thousand dollars and ninety days in jail.
***
The tip of
Burl’s cigarette glowed orange in the midnight sky. “Did he steal the mare before or after he
took you for the thirty-four thousand?”
“Stole her
while I was in jail. While I was out on
bond and waiting for trial, the ladies from his church came out to my house and
scolded me for attacking such a nice young man whose wife is dying of
cancer.” Head hung in a defeated posture, Chet shuffled on home.
***
Burl put the
final rasp on my horse’s front hoof and straightened. I handed him his payment. “Let’s see if I can sum this up. This good-looking, well dressed fella I saw
in Abilene, ropes in one church’s arena on a stolen horse with an investigator
from the DA’s office, attends another church where ladies bring him food for a
wife who has cancer but doesn’t exist.”
Burl
chuckled under his breath. “Then he takes Chet for 29K, gets him thrown in jail and steals his mare while he's in jail. All while
he’s out on bail in one county and wanted in another one. Took Bobby Ray Foster and Cole Cunningham for
ten thousand when he stole and cut their stud. Cost Chet Hunt three months of his
life not counting the money. Don't know if Chet will ever get over the shame of it.”
I led my
horse to the lot gate, shook my head as I stared at the ground. “The man managed to turn Chet Hunt into a
convicted felon, you into a horse thief, and he’s still traveling around free
wearin’ fine clothes. Should we admire
him or hang him?”
“I ever see
him again, you’ll read about it in the paper.”
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