"it's alright, mr. dad, we can retrieve that later, we're safe and so is the horse, that's what is important."

"i'm so sorry mister, i'll send my boys down there tomorrow and try to hook it up to the tractor, it looks sturdy, don't think it will move far."

"thank you dad," i added. "we appreciate all your help."

"i'm afraid i wasn't much help miss." i kissed him on his cheek. dad blushed.

"you want to drive, or ride madam?"

"oh shit, simpson, what will andy sleep in?"

"i believe that mr. mcstoots had some empty trailers there."

"but, andy has no horse food, and no water," i responded.

"i'm sure mr. mcstoots will oblige us, miss," simpson said.

"oh, you drive simpson, i'll ride." we thanked dad again, told him we'd love to take a ride on his boat.

he smiled and said: "any time." simpson drove slowly up the narrow road.

i sat on andy's wet back. "whoa horsey. slow down baby, i almost fell off."

"you all right madam?" simpson hollered back.

"i'm fine simpson, are we almost there?"

"just around this bend," he answered. it was a black as pitch out, i could barely see the car.

"hey carlee."

"issy, is that you?" god, i barely recognized her, so grown up.

"i thought you folks had a trailer?" mr. mcstoots said.

"lost it sir, in the river, back there." simpson pointed.

"your horse is very beautiful carlee," issy said.

"he's very special too, issy, a race horse, can swim too."

issy petted the babe's nose. "does he bite?"

"not pretty southern girls, issy, damn yankees, well, maybe." issy smiled. simpson got out of the car, all seven feet of him.

issy looked straight up at him. "hey there, i'm issy, isadoro actually."

simpson smiled at her. "i'm simpson, miss carlee's, friend nice to meet you miss blankenship."

"he knew my last name carlee, did you tell him?"

"no issy, well, mr. simpson's rather psychic," i answered.

"actually, i read people's mind tracks, i read miss carlee's, learned a lot, a lot about you, miss isadora."

"you mean that carlee thinks about me, mr. simpson?"

"yes ma'me, very often," simpson answered.

issy smiled. "i like you mr. simpson, can i show you our haunted house?"

"certainly my dear, it would be a pleasure." simpson and issy left hand in hand.

"gosh almighty, she surely took right to him," j. p. said.

"he has an inner charm, j.p."

"he's very impressive, carlee, i've never know issy to take up with anyone that quick."

"how did you meet him?"

"oh, he buttles for a friend of mine."

"buttles?"

"yeah, he's a butler, you know."

"butlers buttle?" j.p. asked.

"yeah, i guess."

"he's good on his feet, how old is he?"

"a hunnerd and two," i answered.

"my," j.p. said. "there's hope yet." i laughed.

"what do you think of it mr. simpson?"

"very frightening, miss blankenship, i especially like the ghost over there."

"that's mine, mr. simpson, i made it myself."

"yes, i know."

"carlee's mind tracks?"

"no ma'me, yours."

"why would anyone want to read my mind tracks, mr. simpson?"

"oh, because you are a very talented young lady miss isadora, going places in this world, i predict."

"no-one from kentucky goes very far, mr. simpson."

"oh, i disagree, miss."

"who did then?"

"charles manson."

"who's he?"

"oh, never mind, that was a bad joke, try abraham lincoln then."

"that was a long time ago mr. simpson."

"well then, it's high times there was another, and i choose miss isadora blankenship for our next future president."

"your friend has a golden tongue too, carlee."

"he's perfect, j.p..." i said.

"i'll agree, i've never heard issy talk so much." i couldn't help but smile.

"where can i put the horse j.p.? he's cold."

"over here, carlee, i've fixed a place for him." and it was a wonderful place, dry hay and a nice trailer, plenty of water. i smelled smoke, strong.

"j.p.!"

"what!"

"my god in heaven, it's ms. velotti's place. simpson!" i yelled. simpson ran over to her trailer.

"issy, mind the horse!!" andy's babe was going crazy. ms. velotti's trailer went up like a tinder box. i watched with my hand over my mouth. "oh my god," i whispered.

"i don't know who to call," j. p. said. "the fire department told me that the coven's a fire hazard."

"they warned you about that last year," i reminded him.

"they do every year, carlee," j. p. said softly. "and now this."

simpson opened the door of her trailer. he wrung his hand. "damn," he said. he went inside. "there's no sign of her, sir!" he hollered to j. p.

"that's impossible, mr. simpson, she's in there." i ran with j.p. to the trailer. inside was very hot and smoky, we all looked around for ms. velotti. "she sleeps on the sofa, mr. simpson."

simpson went over and examined the couch closely. "she's not here mr. mcstoots, does she ever leave the trailer and walk around outside?"

"no, mister simpson, well, she has been known to use the shower at my place."

"please sir, go and check that out," simpson said. as j. p. walked over to his trailer, simpson called me in. "very strange madam, ms. velotti's body is simply not here."

"are you for certain, simpson?"

"quite," he said. "i have seen this in the old country, it's a strange way the gypsies have for dropping out, especially after they've stolen something."

"oh simpson, don't say that, ms. velotti seemed like such a nice old lady."

"yes madam, i hope it isn't true."

"no nina folks," j. p. said as he returned.

issy was standing there, behind us, she was crying. "mr. simpson," she said, tears streaming down her face.

"it's ok, pretty miss," simpson said. "i believe ms. velotti was gone before the fire started."

"then where is she now?" issy questioned.

"now, that's her business, missy, there are some things we don't question."

"will she be all right, mr. simpson?"

simpson bent down, way down, and hugged issy. "yes, she will be fine, and don't you worry, worry about mr. mcstoots, and about your education young lady." issy smiled, and kissed simpson on the cheek.

"you were very nice to issy, simpson," i said as he drove home.

"she's a very special little girl, miss carlee."

"you know little about her," i said.

"i know enough."

"have you read her mind, simpson?"

"not exactly, miss."

"you made her feel better, about ms. nina."

"we try to please, madam, in our fashions."

*********

"hey red bone, shine you light over yonder."

"thar, over thar, see it?"

"i don't see shit, goodie."

"well stop the goddamned boat, and hand me that fuckin' light."

"shit man, paddle ashore."

"see it now!"

"yeah, but what the hell is it?"

"a replacement for your fuckin' spy glass, red bone, man, you could spot ducks and geese a mile away with that mutherfucker."

"yeah, but what the fuck is it?"

"a goddamn telescope fuck face, don't you know nuthin'?"

"i know what one is, goodie, i jest ain't never seen one, whose is it?"

"yours if you want it."

"shit, red bone, it wouldn't fit in this boat."

"no, but it would fit in your daddy's, hey, a little ole girl lives here, by herself, man, you could git yourself some pussy and that telescope all in one trip."

"pretty good pickin's, red bone, sounds like a hell of a deal."

"she's some kind of a looker too, goodie, i seen her sunnin' on that dock last august."

"can you shoot through it?"

"what?"

"the telescope."

"hell, i don't know, let's go an' look."

"nice place, no lights."

"don't matter, just a girl i tell you."

"here's a holder of some kind red bone, bet you could jest mount yer rifle here and blast away."

"red bone. red bone, where in the fuck are you?"

"over her goodie, reckon' she's got any drugs or booze inside?"

"dunno."

"hell, she don't even lock her doors."

"anything, goodie?"

"lots of booze red bone, no drugs."

"none in the bathroom, bedside table nor under the mattress. hey! what's you drinking, goodie?"

"wile turkey, man, and jackie daniels, smooth stuff."

"now, don't drink it all man, save some for me."

"what the fuck's that thing o'er there on that little couch?"

"cat, ain't it?"

"not like no cat i ever seen."

"damn, this wile turkey is delicious goodie, let me switch on the light here."

"stuffed, pretty though."

"man, look at all the shit she's got in here, computers, tv, speakers, shit, everything."

"that little ole' couch ain't much, i fount one at the dump last summer, three times that size, uncle larry fount some springs somewhere, put a slip cover on it and it's as good as new."

"got a big stuffed cat laying o'er the back?"

"naa, but mine's got polkee dots, as nice as this, i'd say."

"well goodie, ya don't have to be real fancy when you live in a homemade lean-to on the river bank."

"look at al these pictchers red bone, wonder who the guy in the army outfit is?"

"who the hell cares, hey, is this her?"

"yeah, a good looker, ain't she?"

"curvy, i like her."

"come on, drink your drink, we've got to go up the river and get a bigger boat."

**************************

"we have to go guys," i said.

"that's fine carlee," j. p. said. "i think we can handle things."

"oh, please don't go mr. simpson," issy begged.

"it will be ok, pretty miss, we'll be back." issy hugged simpson. "be a good girl, be strong."

"i will, mr. simpson," issy said.

i bedded andy's babe down. "goodnight baby, mr. mcstoots will take good care of you," i whispered, and kissed him on the nose. andy looked sad. god, how many things can happen in a day of time. simpson was in the car, talking with issy through the window.

"issy honey, can we drop you off anywhere?" i asked.

"thanks carlee, no, i'll just stay here with mr. mcstoots tonight, i'll see after your horse."

i kissed her on the cheek. "thanks issy." we drove down the narrow road. "you really liked her, didn't you simpson?"

"the little girl, yes, but i'm worried about her."

"oh simpson, you worry about everyone."

he smiled. "would your parents let you spend the night in a camp ground all night?"

"no, but..."

"and neither would any other decent parent, madam."

"oh, simpson, we should worry about ourselves. what do you think pork pie is going to say about our driving his trailer into the green?"

simpson smiled. "you've got a point miss."

we pulled into my driveway. "simpson, i'll fix you a well deserved drink."

"shhhh, someone's here," he said.

"i don't see anyone."

"believe me miss, i can smell trouble. he turned off the engine, headed for the telescope and just stood there. he took a red light out of his pocket, and shone it all around.

"anything?" i asked.

"let's get in the house madam," he said seriously. it was warm in the house. simpson looked closely at a bottle of wild turkey. "miss, do you ever lock your doors?"

"usually not, simpson, unless i'm going to be gone for a day or so."

"we've had visitors madam, two of them. is there anyone around here that would want to steal your telescope?"

"why no, no-one that i can think of, anyway." simpson made us two wild turkeys. we sat in the loveseat.

"we had two visitors madam, about two hundred pounds apiece. they made drinks in here, or at least drank from this bottle, and hung around the telescope for a moment. they arrived by boat, and left about an hour ago."

"how do you know all that, simpson?"

"elementary, madam, tracks in the dirt, sizes and shapes, the smell in here and the amount in the bottle."

"gosh, you notice everything don't you simpson?"

"try to." he smiled. "it's dangerous for you here, madam, you should hire a security firm."

"why, i have you, simpson."

"drink your drink miss, i'll get security tomorrow." simpson was so perfect. i turned out the light, and we just set there together in the dark. i knew that the fbi or pork pie would take him away from me in a day or so, and i dreaded that. i scooted my bare feet over the coffee table until they touched his shoes.

"simpson. can i tell you something."

"of course madam."

"i think you're very special."

he put his long skinny arm around my neck. "thank you for that statement, miss carlee, now scoot, onto bed, i'll sleep here."

"why simpson?"

"in case there is more trouble," he said. sleep was fitful, it had been a busy day. something woke me up, the clock said three o'clock. simpson opened my bedroom door. "madam, wake up!"

"what's the matter simpson?"

"visitors," he said. "please call the police, i'm going out to talk with them."

"oh please simpson, don't, i'll call 911, let them handle this."

"no, they are trying to take the telescope madam, you call the police, i'll handle them."

"do you have a gun, a knife?" i asked frantically.

"i'm armed miss, the laser."

"you reinstalled it?"

"it was no problem miss, now call your police force."

i hated to tell simpson that there were probably only two deputies on duty at this hour, but i dialed 911 anyway. "hello, this is 911, how may i help you?"

"yes, two men are on my property trying to steal my telescope."

"oh gosh, i'm so sorry, there's no one's available at this time."

"well thanks a hell of a lot, should i just shoot them, i have a 12 gauge?"

"that not preferable, but it may be your only option."

"gosh, it's so great to live in the sticks, if barney or andy come back to the station, tell them i did what you said." madder than hell, i padded to the back door.

"good evening gentlemen, i've waited a long time for your return."

redbone looked at goodie. "what the hell is that?"

"may i offer you any assistance?" simpson asked cheerfully.

"man, i ain't never seen anyone that tall goodie."

"yeah, looks like someone off the addams family," goodie whispered. "just git your ass back inside there grampa and leave us alone."

my phone rang. at this hour. "hello?"

"carlee, it's pork pie."

"where in the goddamn hell are you pork?"

"about four miles from your place baby, i got to get the babe."

"good pork, and hurry, i think simpson's in trouble."

"buzz, hell, he can take care of himself."

"just hurry, pork pie, i'm afraid."

"do you gentlemen have an interest in this telescope?" i heard simpson ask.

"yeah man, we're taking it!" red bone shouted.

"i think not sir, you didn't pay for it."

"who the hell are you, anyway!" goodie shouted.

"i may be the man who takes you out of this world, sir." oh shit. i thought. you don't threaten river guys like that.

red bone took a pistol from his jeans and pointed it at simpson. "head over this way man."

simpson pointed his finger at goodie's shoe. "show you something sir," he said calmly. the laser fired, and goodie's shoe caught fire.

"goddamn!!" red bone pulled the trigger of his pistol, and i screamed as i saw simpson go down. "shut up in there!!" red bone had his pistol pointing at me. "goddamnit man grab this thing and take it to the fuckin' boat." goodie had his shoe in his hand as red bone lifted the telescope. i ran to simpson, he was still alive.

"what in the hell is that!" i heard one of the men shout. pork pie's tractor came barreling down my drive way.

"fuckin' semi, hurry man."

"oh pork, they shot simpson and are stealing my telescope," i cried. pork stopped the cab and hurried out. he ran toward me and simpson.

"what the fuck's goin' on here!" he screamed.

"those two guys pork, they tried to kill us!" pork pie's face was redder than a beet.

"hold up muthafuckers!! and i mean that!!" pork ran toward them. "let go of that fuckin' telescope, goddamn you!!"

"we don't no fuckin' trouble with you mister!" goodie shouted.

"you already got trouble with me, man, you shot my friend and upset my gal." red bone pointed his pistol at pork. "you son-of-a-rednecked-bitch!" pork punched him on the forehead with a mighty right hook. red bone went down. then he went after goodie.

"hey, i'm unarmed!"

"you sure is, chicken shit," pork yelled as he punched him hard in his left eye.

"the gun pork!" i yelled.

"see to buzz, i'll worry about the gun." i had already seen to simpson. he assured me that it was a flesh wound, and he was fine.

our finest, sheriff tate and corky pulled into the driveway. "what's goin' on here!" sheriff tate hollered.

"is he alright?" corkey asked me, about simpson.

"he says he is," i answered.

"this here's the big one's pistol, officer, they were robbin' my friend," he said, pointing to me.

"help me corky, it's redding heron and goodie johnson, we need to get them to the hospital, the tall fellow too."

"lookie here asshole, these fuckers need to go to the jail house, not the hospital. goddamnit, we'll file federal charges agin' them!"

"i don't see any federal charges here, sir," sheriff tate replied.

"what about my friend's civil rights? he's been shot!"

"we'll consider that, sir."

"shit, git the hell outta here!" pork pie yelled.

"sir!"

"pork!" we hollered, almost simultaneously.

"fuck it folks, these red necks ain't no better than these here two."

"they're the law, pork!" i shouted.

"allow us to handle this matter, sir."

"you ok buzz?"

"i'm fine sir. the emt's checked out the prisoners and checked simpson.

"where's the horse buzz?"

"safe, and sound, sir."

"well, nothin' else here is."

"listen pork ass, we went to a lot of fucking trouble movin' andy!"

"yeah, and where in the hell is he?"

"none of your business, pork." i was getting mad.

"hell, it don't matter anyway. he's willow's now."

"pork, you son-of-a-bitch, andy's my most favorite horse in the whole wide world, you can't sell him just like that."

"had to baby!" he answered.

"shit." i couldn't believe he sold andy to that awful willow banes. i started to cry.

"now angel, it ain't all that bad, it's just temporary."

"she's upset sir, probably needs a drink."

"you're right buzz, a drink may solve everything." i was lying on the love seat, crying my heart out. "baby, there's a lot of stuff you don't understand, trust me angel, i've always trusted you."

"oh bull shit pork," i said.

"look here honey. drink this and play me some of that good stuff on jazzbanjo.com, make your cares go away."

"don't try to humor me pork pie, this has been an awful evening, but i'll take this drink." simpson was rubbing some ointment on his gunshot wound. "will that work simpson?" i asked.

"hell yeah it'll work, buzz makes this stuff hisself, down in the catacombs," pork said. "worth a fortune on the market, a fortune. i gotta piss!"

"down the hall and to your left, sir." simpson pointed.

"oh simpson, what about andy's babe?" i cried.

"mr. anderson loves that horse as much as you do madam, he has worked out a viable deal with miss banes."

"viable deal?" i asked.

"a ruse, a method of taking the immediate heat off. i'll assure you that he'll return to us before christmas." simpson said, as he wiped my tears with a kleenex. "don't worry, pretty miss."