Belonging to Bandera

“What are you blabbing about?” Mason, Bandera’s oldest brother and head of the Jefferson family, demanded.

“I’m talking about our moved-to-town, much-missed next-door neighbor, Mimi. If she, as the new sheriff, wants you to be her deputy, you’d probably be the happiest you’ve ever been, because the path of the sword has always been your way.”

Mason grunted. “That soliloquy was philosophical and annoying all at once. And incorrect, I might add.”

“I took the road less traveled,” Bandera recited. “Frost, of course. I’ve been looking through Maverick’s old books, and did you know Dad liked to underline famous quotations?”

“Which is why you have a healthy respect for them. That doesn’t mean you know what you’re talking about, though.” Mason put his hat on before getting into his truck. “Famous quotations are only useful if you abide by their advice, Dad’s notwithstanding.”

“Where are you going?” Bandera demanded.

“None of thy business,” Mason said, “quoting me, in my favorite conversational tone, Butt-Out-Ski.”

“I don’t like it. It’s too lowbrow, not that I ever really understood the terminology of low and high brows. Where does a brow come into the picture, anyway?” Bandera murmured, his voice trailing off as he stared into Mason’s truck. “Hey, you’ve got a duffel in there! Stuffed full.”

Bandera remembered all too well the months that Mason had recently spent Lord knows where, leaving his younger brothers to run the family ranch, affectionately known as Malfunction Junction. “You can’t go off and leave us again! We’re bone thin at our place as it is. The ranch needs you. We need you.” He frowned, staring at his brother, who clearly wasn’t listening to him. “This is because of Mimi and that deputy stuff, isn’t it? Mason, listen. If you don’t want to run for deputy, tell her you’re not interested. Tell Mimi you’ll help with her campaign and that’s it. No more adventures. Say, ‘Mimi, our high jinks are at an end. You and I are no longer wayward kids.’ Quoth Bandera, from a trough of desperation, on an unseasonably hot Texas day in June.”

Mason shook his head. “I need to talk to Hawk, and maybe Jellyfish.”

“The phone’s in the kitchen,” Bandera said helpfully. “Or you can use my cell if yours is dead.”

“Gotta be in person.” Mason cranked the truck engine.

“A duffel means more than one or two days.” Bandera blinked, thinking fast. What if Mason decided not to come back for months? His brother was under a lot of stress. It wasn’t just the ranch—it was Mimi, too. Mason had never fully retrieved his heart from Mimi’s clutches, and Mimi asking him to be her deputy wasn’t sitting well. For Mason, it was temptation of the highest order, the thought of working daily with the woman he couldn’t get off of his mind.

“Don’t you leave this driveway,” Bandera said. “I’m grabbing my stuff and going with you.” Someone had to bring Mason back from the edge of madness.

“No.” He began backing up the truck. Out of the window he said, “You need to stay here. There’s work to be done.”

But there was a brother to lose. There wasn’t time to call a family council, and Bandera knew an emergency when he saw one. None of the other brothers would allow Mason to go off like this, not with him acting all secretive. A day or two of ranch-work minus two brothers was better than six months of Mason being off in the wilds, nursing his obtuse heart.

“If you move from here,” Bandera said, standing up to his brother for maybe the first time in his life, “I will follow you in my truck. You will see me in your rearview mirror like a hound from hell on your tail.”

Mason sighed, putting his vehicle in Park. “You’re an idiot.”

“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never harm me,” Bandera said.

“And if you recite one thing while we’re gone,” Mason said, “I promise to do you some type of harm.”

Bandera loped off to get his stuff. In the hallway of the main house, he ran into his brother Crockett. “I just discovered Mason in the midst of another Houdini,” Bandera said. “Not much time to talk, but go out there and stall him, okay? Just in case he decides not to buy my threats.”

“What?” Crockett looked out the window.

“Just go keep him occupied!” Bandera ran up the stairs. He tossed jeans, boots, socks, a passport just in case—

His youngest brother, Last, came into the room. “Running away from home?”

“No, but I think Mason is. He’s got his duffel in the truck and he’s heading off to see Hawk.” Bandera threw a toothbrush into his bag and dug around in his drawers for other things he might need.

“Why?” Last asked. “Can’t he just call him?”

“Apparently not. Which is why I’m riding shotgun. Unless you want to go?”

“No, thanks.” Last backed up. “I’ll pack a cooler for you.”

“Thanks.” Running down the stairs and crossing the lawn, Bandera jumped into Mason’s truck. “Crockett, you’re a good man.”

Crockett shrugged his shoulders as he leaned his forearms on Mason’s window. “I’d go with you, but someone’s got to work around here.”

Mason grunted. “’Bout time you did something.”

Crockett slapped his brother’s hat down over his face. Mason moved it back into position.

Last slammed the truck bed after he put the cooler in. “Here’s snacks. Stop and get more ice.”

“Jeez.” Mason looked at Bandera. “We’re only going a few hours down the road. Do you think you’ll need much more survival gear?”

Bandera pulled licorice strings from his pocket. “I’m good to go on the road less traveled. Frost, of course, again. I really like the wintry old poet.”

“Damn it!” Mason gunned the truck, making Crockett jump back and Last hustle to the side of the driveway. “I swear I’ll strangle you with your licorice. And then you’ll die by your own sword.”

“I can tell it’s gonna be fun,” Crockett called. “Goodbye, Huck Finn! See ya, Tom Sawyer!”

“Just a regular bunch of comedians,” Mason mumbled as he pulled away from the ranch.

“So what’s the adventure all about?”

“Maverick, our long-lost father,” Mason said. “Why else would I need Hawk’s detective talents and the help of his erstwhile loony sidekick, Jellyfish?”

“Jelly isn’t loony,” Bandera said. “He’s existential, man.”

Mason grunted.

“So what does Maverick have to do with anything? What do you think you can find now that you didn’t before?”

“Nothing. But Hawk will be better at turning over rocks and running through dead-end signs than I was. I’m hiring him. Or them. Professionalism is what we need.”

“Whatever.” Bandera looked out the window as they passed the many miles of their ranch. “Mason, maybe we should just accept the fact that we’re never going to know what happened to Dad.”

He knew it was the wrong thing to say the second he said it, and Mason’s silence was loud with disapproval. Only Mason could communicate censure so effectively without making a sound. Bandera sighed as he took in the picturesque view speeding past his window. “We have one pretty spread of land. I’m going to miss Malfunction Junction.”

“We’re only going to be gone a few days,” Mason said. “It’s not like you need your teddy bear or anything.”

“I wouldn’t make fun of sleeping with teddy bears,” Bandera said. “If you were sleeping with your little Mimi-bear, you’d not be off trolling after the past.”

“Lovely,” Mason said. “Why don’t you find your own bear and keep your nose out of my business?”

“Because I like your business,” Bandera replied. “It’s much more interesting than mine. All I know about my corner of the world is that I like it the way it is. Women only bring chaos, though I can sometimes appreciate a little lowbrow chaos.”