[19] Jesus of Del Rio

“Some damn good pie, Mrs. Bauer. Don’t know how you do it.”

“That’s mighty kind of you Sven. My granny’s recipe, from back in the oil patch. Speakin’ of which, there was somethin’ I wanted to give you.”

She disappeared for about half a minute and came back with a four by twelve picture frame held against her chest so that I couldn’t see what the picture was.

“My daddy bought this back in about ‘57 or ‘58. Owen won’t let me hang it up in the house, David don’t want it, and I just can’t bear to keep it packed away. Thought maybe you might like it.”

She handed it to me. It was a an old picture of a blue-eyed European Jesus, like what you see on the covers of them Jehova’s Witnesses’ magazines. But this one had an autograph, in cursive black marker that said, “Jesus Christ”. I wasn’t sure if I was meant to start laughing or what. Owen must’ve sensed the look on my face, because he chimed in, never lookin’ away from the t.v.

“Her daddy bought that back when they was livin’ in Lamesa and he was working out in the patch for Halliburton. There were some radio stations, down by Del Rio, used to call ‘em ‘border blasters’, ‘cause they sat just on the Mexican side of the river and had transmitters that was broadcastin’ way above the legal limit stateside. This one called XERF was famous for sellin’ all kinds of shit to folks who were gullible enough to buy it. Send ‘em a dollar and you could getcherself an autographed picture of Jesus Christ even.”

“My daddy gave it to me for my confirmation present.”

This might’ve been the strangest thing to ever happen to me during a completely sober moment. So I just said, “I don’t know what to say. Thank you, Mrs. Bauer.”

“You’re very welcome Sven.”

“At least it ain’t gonna be in the house any more. Don’t forget the beer and that can of chew.”

I took that as my invite to be on my way. I stopped by the P&L grocery, picked up a twelver of Bud and a can of Copenhagen for Owen, dropped it all off and then went home to hang up that picture on the shop wall, right next to that last, lonely burlap bag. If anything, maybe this would encourage that Ouija board to make its way back home. And maybe we could get this door closed before things got really outta hand.

Uncle Dave didn’t believe in carryin’ a phone around with him in most cases, and I can’t say I blame him. But it means I had to wait for him to show back up at home well after lunch before I knew we were still on for the evening meet. He’d been down in Cortez on business and come back with some blotter. I convinced him that we outta save it for a celebration, since we clearly didn’t need it to summon ‘ol Hagerty. No reason to push this door open any farther, lest it come off its hinges. 

We agreed to meet at my place. Dave would come help me throw some hay and then we’d park ourselves right on the edge of the field just prior to 6:56. We didn’t plan on bringin’ anything with. Just wanted to ask a few questions and then reassess the current situation. Them crows were scared of Hagerty. I needed to know his secret. And see if he was crossin’ paths with them other boys when he was in transit between here and wherever.

A little tension between me and the wife. A little tension, for sure. Even though I knew enough to get well away from the house before them crows came by, she knew they weren’t altogether gone. But it felt best not to talk about it. Maybe this here thing would be all fixed up come nightfall.