The old attorney, O.B. Goodfellow is up to usual habits sending a visiting young female attorney to the livestock sales barn to teach the locals a lesson.
Copyrighted for Jerry W. Engler by Print Source Direct and Kansas Publishing Ventures
Jezebel and the sale-barn solution
O.B. Goodfellow took an extra minute to yawn, and stretch his legs under his big mahogany desk.
The next cowboy novel he had to read looked good from what he could see in the table of contents--lots of action and lots of shooting. Good, good, very good that probably the villain would get what was coming to him in the end. O.B. hated soupy, sentimental or socially correct books.
“There’s enough correctness in the real law,” he told his wife at times. “What I like is justice at the end--either at the end of a six-gun or a rope.”
He could read nearly all day today--after he took a few minutes to be what he was supposed to be, an attorney. But at 70 years old, it would be a shame if he let too much of what he was supposed to be get in the way of what he wanted to do.
That was for the young--the young jezebel in the next room, the barracuda he was turning loose in the community fish tank, the blonde in the beige suit the firm of Banghor, Baker and Burger had sent him from the city to learn from him for a few weeks.
Where had she found such a suit, he wondered--tweeded like a carpet and so pale it was almost white, cut off above the knees to give maximum exposure to sheer white hosiery. He supposed he was supposed to be attracted to that, but he knew the cold, green-eyed look of a tiger. The woman was mean.
Plus, she whistled through her partially parted front teeth, and it irritated him. It probably wasn’t her fault unless she’d parted them with a crow-bar to make her noticeable in the legal world. He could picture that, her rolling around on the floor with the bar between her teeth. It was a better amusement to picture than one of her as possibly a somewhat neglected child who had become tough enough to fend for herself.
O.B. stuck his bald dome of a head through the door, “Miss Jeze--oh I mean, Miss Jerney, would you please come in here?”
“Yess,” she said, hissing the last letter of the word into a double.
She was actually a little taller than him, even if it weren’t for the black high heels, O.B. decided. How did she walk holding her knees together like that? It gave her a mincing short gait--well, no concern of his.
Her hypnotic eyes seemed to hold his. “Ahem, Miss Jerney.”
“Yess.”
“We have a situation down at the sale barn--that is, the cattle auction barn--which I would like you to make an investigation of today. The barn is a client of ours, and whenever an accident occurs there, we do a short investigation to see where their interests might lie should the incident cause concern.”
“Yess. Get the information. Ssue the persson who had the accident for negligence before they act. Sseize everything they have even as they recuperate. Yess, hss.”
Good night, she actually hissed an extra time. Get out of here fast if her tongue begins to flitter. “No, we don’t necessarily want to carry things that far, Miss Jerney.
“We just want our client protected. They want their employees taken care of if they’re hurt. They’ll put out collection jars that everyone can contribute to for expenses beyond medical coverage. They usually send them gifts both from the company and from the other employees. It’s like a big family.”
“Hss, how gushy, gushy nice. I recommend we get a stop put to those practicess. It’s an admission of guilt.”
“No, Miss Jerney. We can’t do that. Out here in this little community, it wouldn’t be in their interest. They need the community to consider them as part of one big family, too. Why, Jackson Juxton, the sale barn owner, wouldn’t feel right if he didn’t call the family too, and put out collection jars in a few more spots in town.
“The farm and ranch families who take cattle to them expect that kind of behavior from them right along with free calendars, pencils and ball caps. They wouldn’t even need us except they’ve had the problem of the state or a trouble-making lawyer coming along before.”
“Yess. We at Banghor, Baker and Burger like to watch for such tush-tush situations.”
“Tush-tush? Well, never mind. You need to know the situation. Thaghor Branhart was working the ring that night when they turned these range cows in--you know, old broken-horned, broken-mouthed Texas Herefords with a fly under the tail for never having been penned up so tight before.”
“Yess, I know, faulty corporate equipment.”
“Well, maybe, you don’t know. But you just write up the report best you can and I’ll take care of it from there. You see, old Thaghor was just being his usual self out there, cock of the walk. He was popping his whip in front of the cows, and pointing his finger at the bidders to holler, ‘Yeah.’ Then he’d wiggle his hand at the next guy or point at him to get a counter bid just like a good ring man ought to.”
“Yess, professional to a point just before his own negligence.”
“Well, he probably got a little exuberant with the bidding, and popped his whip down a little hard on the hip bones of an old biddy, and she let him have it. One of the cows kicked poor old Thaghor right in the...well, she kicked him between his legs. I guess proper language, Miss Jerney, would be that she kicked him in the...well, the groin.”
“Yess, she gave him a good smack in the privates. Serves him right for negligence. We got him, Ssir. He can’t claim sterility for something he did to himself.”
“No, no, no, we don’t have him. Good night, the man is in agony, all swollen up black and blue. He can’t walk. He’s going to have at least a three-day hospital stay as I understand it. And that’s not to mention the hunk of hide taken out of his back when the fellows dragged him out of the ring all doubled up like that before the cows could run over him again.
“No, we’re on the same side as Thaghor because he’s a member of our community. We want him to get well, and come back to the barn where he belongs.”
“Yess, hss, I understand. Don’t worry, Mr. Goodfellow, I’ll nail him.”
“Well, just bring me the report, and at least you’ll have a bit of experience from it. And, not to tell you how to dress, Miss Jerney....”
“Actually it’s Mss. Jerney.”
“Yes, but you ought to at least wear rubber boots down at the sale barn instead of high heels. You’d sink out of sight in those. The soils are rather soft-textured. You can use the pair I have in the closet. My wife keeps a pair of tennis shoes there you can use with them to keep you steady.”
She was a peculiar figure walking between the livestock trailers on the broad mud lot between the puddles of water, wobbling as though trying to stay stable in several pairs of shoes while holding her knees together. Jackson Juxton couldn’t decide what kind of a person this was--in a beige dress with hair dyed blonde, and frosted in a frizz out to the edges.
“Let me get the door for you, Ma’am,” he said.
“Hsss. Would you direct me to Jackson Juxton, please?”
“Why, you got him, Ma’am. I’m Jackson Juxton,” he said, tucking his hands in his pockets and leaning backward as though to show her regard from an extra space away. “Auctioneer at your service, whether you’re dealing in horses, hogs, cows or antiquities, Jackson Juxton is your man.”
The laugh in his pale blue eyes above the high-boned pink cheeks was stopped short by the cold glare of the green eyes.
“I’m here for the Goodfellow Firm, Mr. Juxton,” she said, “in the case against Mr. Branhart.”
“Just call me Jackson, Ma’am. And, actually, this ain’t against old Thaghor or nobody for that matter. We just try to cut ourselves a little slack in case. And what would your name be?”
“Mss Jerney, hss. Let’s look around. You might consider paving your front lot.”
“Well, you could have parked closer. Tomorrow’s sale day, and the trailers just brought in some stock. They’re getting them penned out back. You didn’t have to park where they do.”
“Hss, show me the ring. Has Mr. Branhart been careless or had accidents before his negligence in this one?”
“Oh, I think he went nose to nose with a horse once, and got his broken with a couple of teeth knocked out, but he ain’t never been negligent, Miss Jerney, just taken a few knocks is all. Heck, if I don’t have an extra groove in my back from a Simmental bull myself. You just always got to think what you’re seein’ come into the ring next, and jump behind the steel barriers there if it’s somethin’ that’s a little perky.”
“Hss, oh, look at that--I have mud all over my boots, and there’s even a few little bits on my stockings. I would like to have a wet paper towel before I leave.”
“Certainly. You can go the lady’s room before you leave. The women in the office keep it real clean so it’s never like where all the fellas go.... Well, never mind, you can use it.”
“Yess, and this would be the ring you speak of, this round, fenced-in area.”
“Yes, Miss Jerney, let me get the gate here for you. You see it’s all fenced with high, heavy steel pipe railing so the buyers and sellers can sit back in the theater chairs there in comfort. The auctioneer and bookkeeper are up there. And, the ring men are the old boys down here lettin’ the stock in and out, and keepin’ them movin’ so the buyers can get a look at what they’re biddin’ on.”
“Oooh, hss, this green substance on the floor, and on my boots, it wouldn’t be?”
“Yes, it would be Miss Jerney.”
“Animal droppings?”
“Actually manure, we call it, Ma’am. The cattle just came in off grass so it’s kind of....”
“Hss, don’t explain the droppings to me, Mr. Jexton.”
“Jackson, Miss Jerney. You can just call me Jackson because if you’re going to be here any time at all, everybody in town is just like one big family. Heck, we don’t know a stranger.”
“Hss, you should get to, Mr. Jexton. You should really get to. But then, I suppose it helps coming from a strange place yourself.”
“Uh, Miss Jerney, I really wouldn’t recommend you lean against the arena fence in that dress. You see....” He paused as she walked across the ring with the parallel stripes of green manure across the back of her dress, wondering if he should say anything about it.”
“So, I suppose, Mr. Jexton, that this entryway would be where the cows come into the ring?”
“Sure would be, Miss Jerney.”
“And our Mr. Branhart would have been standing here, looking into the gate to await their arrival.”
“Heck, Ma’am. I suppose old Thaghor was lookin’ at a bunch of things. He was probably standin’ closer to where I’m at, grinnin’ kind of happy-like with a chew in his mouth if he was like usual. He’d have been sportin’ with the boys outside the ring to keep it all cordial. He woulda’ had one eye on the price and weight flashing up above on the last bunch to keep the figures in his head. He’da had one eye on this gate and another eye on the gate on the other side where the other ring man was closing it behind the last bunch of cattle.
“You can reckon on a good ring man going like he had four sets of eyes in his head no matter where he’s standin’ or lookin’ for the moment. Plus, I know the poor devil’d had to go to the bathroom for an hour before it all happened--bladders an’ bungs of iron is what a good ring man’s got cuz the hours are long.”
“You can’t know that.”
“I sure can cuz I was one of the fella’s that helped cut his britches off him for the doctor to have a look.”
“Hss, bad, an employer should have adequate toilet facilities. But he was negligent, too, trying to look too many ways at once while fraternizing unnecessarily with the customers.”
“But that’s his job!”
“Were the cattle unusually wild? Were they any wilder than what he was accustomed to?”
“Ma’am, those cows was right rank.”
“Yess, hss, I can believe that. The whole place stinks. But were they wild?”
“Rank is wild, Ma’am. Miss Jerney, a rank cow means a wild cow.”
“Hss, not good, not good. You may be responsible for keeping animals that haven’t been adequately gentled for the work. So, this hallway through the pens goes back to where the wild cattle are kept?”
“We call it an alleyway, Miss Jerney. And all kinds of cattle come down it from your old cows that have been handled all their lives in a dairy, to your ones fresh off grass, to stockers, to baby calves, and some of the randiest old bulls you’ll see anywhere. Ma’am, I don’t think you better be walkin’ back down there today. Like I said, they’re workin’ the cattle into the pens for tomorrow. Or, at least stick close by me if you have to go look.”
“Yess, well these little cows are rather innocent looking.”
“Ma’am, those are baby calves, little Holsteins from a dairy.”
“And, why is the man trotting his horse down your hallway?”
“Oh, fer gawd’s sake, jump in here with me, lady, into this pen behind this gate. Old Cyrus has doodled himself a bull on the other end of that rope, and his horse ain’t got much else place to go until Frank has a rope on him from the other end.”
“Aaah, hss, hss.”
“Don’t worry, Ma’am. I know he’s a powerful big old black bull hittin’ the sides of the pen that way, but he ain’t going to get in. See, Cyrus has his rope tightened, and Frank’s on a capable old cow-horse tighten’n up on him from the other end. See, they’re startin’ to pull him away.”
“Ooh, ooh, hss, hss.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Jerney. It looks like the horse splashed up stuff on your legs, oh, my gosh, under your dress, and on it. You sure are a’goin’ to need that restroom.”
“That won’t be necessary. I just need to get back, write up my report, and talk to O.B. Goodfellow. I doubt you’ve ever had an OSHA inspection here. This place is a mess. I’ll be writing recommendations all week just from what little I’ve seen.”
“I see, Ma’am. Well, at least let me or one of the other fellows take you back in the truck so you don’t mess your car up with all the mess you picked up here.”
“I didn’t bring my car. I drove O.B. Goodfellow’s new car.”
“In that case, Miss Jerney, I guess you don’t need our help. You just drive old O.B.’s car back, and give him our thanks for sending you down here so we could get some real professional help. You have been more than a help. You’ve been an inspiration for us to do better. Is that the car he got with the white, velvet seat covers?”
“Yess, hss.”
“Good, good, that’s real good. He won’t mind if you dirty it up a little, Ma’am. O.B. is a real country boy--grew up here you know.”
She drove away with the same ivory, cold lip-tuck she drove in with.
O.B. was on Chapter 15 already when his secretary told him he had a phone call from Jackson Jexton.
“Yes, Jackson, this is O.B. You must be calling because my girl’s made it down there?”
“She sure has been, O.B. She’s on her way back, OK, but a little dirtied up. I guess you won’t care if I say you are quite the old coyote. I see what you mean. We don’t need any lawyer checkin’ up on us all of the time. Guess she brought it home to me just fine. These are cattlemen working down here just like you said, and they know the ways of what they’re doing.”
“I tried to tell you that, Jackson. Things are tight enough without you pouring money down a rat hole. Now, if you ever do really need an attorney, you call me. If you ever suspect you need an attorney, you call me, and I’ll let you know whether I think you really do. Maybe next time you’ll listen to me.”
“I hear you, O.B., and I’ll do that next time without needin’ a lesson like that. Don’t know what you’ll be doing with that young lady though?”
“Oh, she’ll put her time in here, write her report, maybe do a couple of things for the banker and the school board before I send her back. I might use her on some real estate research. She’ll have an experience.
“I like to do right by the young people. A young lady lawyer could never have a better friend in learning the ways of the world than O.B. Goodfellow.”
Click.
“Miss Zimmerman, can you can come in here. Jackson has hung up now.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Ms. Jerney is on her way back in. Jackson was quite pleased with the work she did for him. You know that bill I told you to make to him for our services. Wasn’t that for $500?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, knock it up to a full $1,000. He learned so much from it that I want to make sure he values the full experience.”
An entertaining and engaging story. I particularly liked these characters, they seemed to jump off the screen with their "realness." I think Jackson appealed to me most of all.
I have to agree with Mr. Ed -- fantastic ending!
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