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Angelia

I was 27

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Life wasn't the same after Gail died. My folks stayed with Gus for two weeks and urged me to come home to Kansas. I told them not to worry about me. Life moves ahead. I felt the need to stay with the old man, and he was about as grief-stricken as I was. He told me Gail's death was harder on him than his wife’s death, on account of it being so sudden.
"If only we had time to let her go, it wouldn't be so hard."
By May life had returned to a semblance of normal. The livestock demanded we participate, at least in a limited way.
I woke one morning in June, and opened the kitchen door, Sally, Gus's collie, rushed out.
"What's the matter girl, the old man forget to let you out?"
The natural smells of coffee brewing and bacon frying were absent.
Gus lay on his bed with his face to the wall, a check of his pulse confirmed my worst fears. He died in his sleep in his bed in his own home.
I slumped down in the rocker by his bedside and cried. An hour later I called the coroner and waited on the front porch until a sheriff's deputy drove up.
Gus didn't have any family, he had a brother that passed a few years earlier, and none of his wife's people remained. I took care of the arrangements and Mom, and Dad came up from Kansas for the funeral. At the grave site, a gentleman came up to me and handed me a business card. He was from a law firm in Helena and said he handled the old man's business on occasion, and to call him when I got the opportunity.
A week later my mother handed me the business card that she took from my dress shirt pocket before she washed it.
I took the opportunity to ring up Mr. Mason, of Mason, Mason, and Harold, Attorneys at Law.
Mr. Mason told me that Gus had made arrangements with their law firm to settle his affairs upon his demise and had listed me as the executor of the estate. We set an appointment to meet the next day.

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Mom and Dad rode with me to Helena, and we found ourselves seated across from Mr. Mason and a legal secretary at a large conference table.

We exchanged some pleasantries then got down to business.

"This is the reading of the last will of Gustave Ericsson confirmed deceased by this legal copy of a death certificate.,"......ad nauseam.

The bottom line, after all the legal documents were reviewed and signed, the old man left everything to me.

Gus left a checking account with $878,467 and some change, a savings account and stock portfolio roughly three times that amount, and the deed to the ranch to me. He had inherited a quarry worth 17 million from his brother in Missouri who preceded him in death. That was now mine too!

The law firm had handled the particulars of the quarry for him and leased it to a mining company that paid a hefty monthly check as well as a ten-year lease that paid yearly.

I was numb.

"But this money isn't mine," I said.

"These documents say otherwise Mr. Rascomb, the entire estate of Gustave Ericsson is now yours. Of course, there will be some inheritance taxes to pay, but I assure you, it most definitely is yours."

I had to get out of there. I had to think.

Dad drove us back to the ranch in silence.

At the kitchen table, Mom broke the spell.

"Marty, what are you going to do?"

"I don't know Mom. I don't know."

Three days later I had a plan. I didn't want to stay on the ranch, and there were too many sad memories to keep me. Dad had told me how Maisy and her husband Randal had lost his family's farm. It wasn't their fault, his parents had made some poor business decisions and several years of crop losses put the place in the red. The banks had foreclosed, and Randal was looking for work in Kansas City.

I called Randal and made him an offer he couldn't refuse. If he and Maisy moved to the ranch, I would grubstake the place for three years and become a silent 50% partner in the already established cattle operation. He talked it over with my sister, and they hired a moving company the next day.

Dad flew my Piper Cub back to Kansas and Mom, and I drove there together. I left my old truck for Randal to use and signed the title over to him.

Back in Kansas, I insisted on buying an acre at the far side of the family farm and had a small house built. A few months later I moved in and partnered with my father running the family farm.

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The distraction of handling all of this kept my mind off my sorrows, but soon enough things quieted down and adjusting to a Kansas life didn't seem to help.

After the wheat harvest, I packed a bag and stopped by my parent's place to tell them I was going on a road trip for a few months. No, I didn't know where I was going I was just going. I promised to check in from time to time.

I was nursing my fifth Tom Collins in a bar in Reno when Angelia walked in. I didn't know it at the time, and I didn't even care. I was playing pool with a couple of Cowboys that invited me to play earlier, and I was losing badly. These old boys were friendly and kept insisting on buying me drinks. I pulled a wad of cash from my pocket and tried to buy a round, but they wouldn't have it.

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I was beyond drunk when one of them took me by the arm, and the other came up on the other side to help me drive home. I protested but was too gone to put up much of a fight. That's when Angelia stepped up and pushing those guys away said, "Ronnie, I can't believe you!"

She acted like I knew her and had every right to dress me down for being a public drunk and her with our babies at home!

She got the bartender to help her take me to my truck, and with a little persuasion coaxed my keys away from me. They got me into the passenger seat and buckled me in. I don't remember much more.

I woke up with a splitting headache. I was stretched out on a green couch, in nothing but my whitie-tighties with a thin blanket over me. There was a small trash can lined with a black plastic bag beside me.

I looked around the room and saw my jeans neatly folded on a chair and my shirt on a coat hanger on a nearby doorknob. My keys, watch and billfold were sitting on top of my jeans.

A curvy girl with long black hair walked into the room from a hallway. She wore a purple teddy that met her gorgeous legs high on the thighs.

She saw that I was awake and rushed over to grab a robe where it lay across an upholstered bench.

"Good morning," she said.

"Uh, hi. Where am I?" I replied.

"This is my place, you passed out on me, and I didn't know where you lived."

"What happened?"

"I rescued your dumb ass from those two thugs, Julio and Carlos."

She told me how those two guys I made friends with kept buying me drinks and would probably have beat the crap out of me and rolled me for all the cash I had. She knew they put a tourist in the hospital once for $35.00.

I groaned and grabbed my aching head.

"Hey! If you're going to hurl, use the basket!"

"I'm sorry, no, I feel bad, but I'll be okay. Thanks, for saving me."

I started to get up but remembered my state of dress.

"Uh, who?"

"Undressed you? That was me, and you aren't the first guy I've seen in his drawers."

I stood up gathering the blanket around my waist and walked over to get my pants from the chair.

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"Would you mind?" I said, indicating she should turn around.

She grinned but averted her eyes while I slipped into my jeans.

I looked in my billfold, and the cash I hadn't stuffed into my pockets was still there.

"It's all there. I'm no thief," she said.

I reached into my pocket and fished out a wad of bills and tore off a couple of tens and offered them to her. She backed up as if I slapped her.

"I don't need your money hombre! I NEED a ride back to the bar to get my car!"

She disappeared down the hall and returned while I was struggling into my boots. She wore jeans and a sweater that showed off her curves nicely.

The bar owner had Angelia's car towed, and that did not improve her mood! I spent the morning driving her around to the public offices she had to visit to pay the towing fee and a fine for automobile abandonment. We arrived at the impound lot 3 minutes after they closed for lunch. She was livid! A stream of Spanish spewed from her pouty lips that I didn't think was a prayer.

"Let me buy you lunch," I said.

After another stream of Spanish apparently directed at me, she reluctantly agreed.

We pulled into an I-hop, and I ordered pancakes for lunch. She had coffee.

Angelia ask me what my plans were and I told her I didn't have any, I thought I might hang around Reno for a while, maybe find a place and get a job. Nothing permanent.

She told me she was a real estate broker and her home was a triplex that she had picked up as an investment. Currently, the only one living there, one unit was down for repairs, and the other was vacant with the last occupants skipping town owning her three months rent.

After picking up her old Plymouth Valiant from the impound lot, I followed her back to her place, and she showed me the vacant apartment. I paid her a deposit and first and last months rent and tried to pay the towing fee and expenses incurred for rescuing me from those two thugs. She wouldn't have it but promised to give the bartender a dressing down for letting the owner tow her vehicle.

I spent a few days finding second-hand items to furnish the place and having the utilities turned on, and a phone installed.

Angelia knocked on my door about 7 AM one morning and asked if I could do her a big favor. She needed to drop her old beater at the garage and needed a ride to work. I grabbed my jacket and followed her down to a small neighborhood shop where a middle-aged fellow named Mike took some notes from her and gave her an estimate on the repairs. I heard the gentleman talking to a colleague about needing a new mechanic.

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After dropping Angelia at her office, I returned to the mechanic's shop and approached Mike about the job opening. No, I wasn't a trained auto mechanic, but I told him I grew up on a farm and knew my way around a wrench. I promised I'd work free for a week and if he didn't think I could cut it, then I'd walk away, no hard feelings.

I started immediately, and my first job was fixing Angelia's car. The old slant six had a terrible knock and when I removed the head found the valve shaft broken in two pieces right at a bearing. The break was at an angle so the part still functioned but would have failed soon. All in all the vehicle was worn out.

Mike talked to Angelia, and she agreed to pay for the expensive repair. I like this man immediately, he could have ordered a bunch of new parts and added a hefty commission, but he examined everything and used the old parts if they were functional. I never once saw him be anything but honest with his customers.

Mike had a rule. Work started at 7 AM sharp, lunch from 11:30 to 12:00 then promptly at 3 PM the business closed, no exceptions. If your car were in the shop, it would be there the next day, and if you needed your vehicle sooner, then you could go elsewhere.

You would think this policy would damage his business, but he was an excellent mechanic, and fair, and his customers were loyal. I enjoyed working with him.

I picked Angelia up at 4:30, and on the ride home I asked about the vacant unit. She told me it needed some plumbing and paint and perhaps some sheetrock work before it could be rented out. I offered to do the job for her if she would deduct it from my rent. At first, she was skeptical, but I told her if she didn't approve of the job then no charge. We shook on it.

This concludes part 4 of the series,
To All the Girls I've Loved Before
stay tuned for the next half of

Angelia

Thanks for reading!
CARRY ON!

No. 1 Jennifer

No. 2 Lauren

No. 3 Gail

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