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COUNTRY LIFE IN BC • SEPTEMBER 2019 Henderson backs off while Frank closes in When we left off last time,
Newt Pullman was all but giddy with anticipation as he readied to take Susan Henderson for a picnic lunch. Meanwhile, thousands of miles away at a tropical resort, Birdie and Deborah arrived at dinner fashionably late into the welcoming arms of Bernie and the indifference of Kenneth. Rural Redemption, part 114, continues ...
Woodshed
Chronicles by BOB COLLINS
Kenneth was a grudging
participant in the dinner table conversation. His mood darkened when Birdie gave a detailed description of the fun day she and Deborah had. He was on his third glass of Scotch when Birdie let the cat out of the bag about what they had planned for tomorrow. “You boys probably won’t
believe this, but tomorrow we’re going out to one of the islands to go swimming with some pigs!” “No!” said Bernie. “Who ever
heard of such a thing? Pigs can’t swim. Can they?” “I know they can’t fly,” said
Birdie, “but the nice young man at the front desk says for sure it’s a real thing and I reserved us a spot on the boat that goes to it. Do you two want to join us? I think it will be a hoot!” Kenneth gave a derisive
snort.
“No thanks, Birdie. It sounds special but I think I’m going to have to give swimming with the pigs a
miss,” he said sarcastically. Deborah frowned. “Oh, come on, Kenneth.
Where’s your sense of adventure? It might be right up your alley. Why don’t you tell Bernie and Birdie about the time you went swimming at the Vincent’s pig farm? Kenneth fixed Deborah with a sullen stare. “Let’s not and say we did,
shall we?” he hissed. “I’m afraid I’ll have to bid you all good evening. I broke my leg two months ago and it’s still very painful.” He rose to
leave. Deborah started to get up,
too. “Oh no, Deborah. You please stay. I’m just going to soak this leg, then take a sleeping pill. No point in you missing all this fun. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Deborah sat back down as
he walked away. “He’s got a broken leg?” said Bernie. “I guess that might explain his golf game.” “According to the doctor, it was a sprained ankle,” said Deborah. “But Kenneth insists it was a broken leg.” “Maybe he’s right,” said
Bernie, “because he sure does play golf like a man with a broken leg.” “What’s the story about the swimming at the pig farm?” asked Birdie. “I’m all ears.” Deborah made them
promise not to say anything about it when Kenneth was around.
“Not long after we moved to the country, our dog Duchess ran off and ended up a couple of miles away at the
Vincent’s pig farm. They have a big pond of pig manure and apparently Duchess swam across it and was on the other side. Kenneth tried calling her but she wouldn’t come and he lost his temper. He thought the pig manure was wet cement and tried to walk on it. The pond was 10 feet deep and he was under for a good five seconds.” “Hoowee!” said Bernie as the vision of Kenneth Henderson dog-paddling in pig manure sunk in. “Then what?” “Well, Mr. Vincent Sr. washed Kenneth off with a fire hose, then drove him home in the back of his truck. In the end, I had to burn all of his clothes.”
ttt Newt pulled into Tiny’s
driveway at a quarter past 12. Susan sat in awe as he drove up to the house. “Afternoon, Mrs. Henderson. Are you ready for lunch?” “Well, Newt Pullman, you
are indeed a man full of surprises. Do you always travel in such style?” “Classy date deserves a classy ride I’m thinking,” said Newt as he opened the passenger door with a flourish.
Susan blushed and stepped on the running board, then slid onto the leather seat. Newt slid into the driver’s seat and they were off. “Where did you come
across this? And what is it?” “I came across it in the
garage. It was Colonel Meldrum’s old car. It’s a 1928 Packard convertible coupe.
He bought it new and drove it until sometime after the war. It’s been in the garage ever since. He used to take me and my brothers for a spin once or twice every summer. I still fire it up every month or so and take it out once-in-a-while for special occasions.” “Like this?” “This might come as a surprise to you, Mrs. Henderson, but I haven’t done much of this in the last 40- odd years. Last summer, I hauled Violet Boisvert when she turned 100 and they made her the honourary marshal for the July 1st parade. Sometimes I haul a wedding couple in the rumble seat, or the 4-H ambassadors at fall fair time.” “It’s certainly an eye-
catcher.” “All the more so with you in
it, I’m willing to bet.” Susan blushed anew. “I doubt that.” Newt studied the rear-view
mirror. “No doubt about it. It
seems you’ve caught someone’s eye already.” “Where?” “Behind us. That’s Junkyard
Frank’s tow truck gaining on us.”
Frank hung back 50 yards
and followed the Packard all the way to the provincial park and pulled in next to it in the parking lot. “Oh hey, Newt, it’s you. I
didn’t recognize you.” “Honest mistake, Frank.
There’s a lot of these old Packards around. You probably run across half a dozen a week being on the road as much as you are.” “Well, it was a honest
mistake. I figured there was a better chance of there bein’
two old Packards on the road than there was of you bein’ in the company of such a fine- looking woman.” Frank leaned forward so he could see past Newt and look at Susan. “Well, if it isn’t Mrs. Henderson. Good day, Ma’am. You might recall me. I believe we met at the Li’l Abner play last week. What brings you folks out here? If you don’t mind me askin’? “Hello, Frank. Of course I
remember you. I’m not altogether sure about why we’re here. It’s Newt’s surprise. You’ll have to ask him.” “Yeah, old Newt’s just full of surprises. Planning on a walk to the falls are you, Newt? What you got in the fancy box there?” “Actually, Frank it’s a picnic
lunch for after we see the falls.” “Nice enough day for a
picnic. I don’t suppose you got enough grub in there for one more?” “Afraid not,” said Newt. “But
I’ll give you a shout the next time we do this, if I remember.” “Okay then,” said Frank as
he fired up his tow truck. “It’s been nice seein’ you again, Ma’am. Until we meet again then.” Frank chugged away. “I’d say you have yourself another admirer, Mrs. Henderson.” “Other than Frank? Who might that be?” It was Newt’s turn to blush. Susan smiled and closed her hand over Newt’s. “Why don’t you forget Mrs. Henderson and take Susan on this picnic you have planned?”
... to be continued
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