Poverty Hill
Copyright© 2026 by Asa Strong
Chapter 12
I ended up cookin’ for myself. After I got back from the meetin’ with the judge, I needed to arrange for someone to take care of the horses. Now, Miguel, who lives down the road from me apiece, had done it for me afore, so I went ‘bout huntin’ him up.
First I tried his place, a house trailer that sat a bit off the road north of me. No luck. Next I tried Lucy’s, but he weren’t there yet. She said he’d be in ‘bout six or so.
Now Hahn’s Peak ain’t very big, and in a half hour of searchin’, I still hadn’t found him. Finally, I returned to his place, and he pulled into his yard in front of me.
“Hey, Miguel!” I said gettin’ out of my truck, “I need some help.”
He had an armful of grocery bags in his hands, so he nodded to me and said, “What can I do for you Amos?”
I took of my hat and scratched my head.
“Well, looks like I have to be in Denver for a few days. I was a wonderin’ if’n you could take care of my horses while I’m gone?”
“You know how long you’ll be gone?” he asked.
“I’m not really sure, but I don’t think I can take more’n a few days in the city.”
He laughed, and then we went over where everythin’ was in the barn for the horses.
By the time we were done, I didn’t feel like drivin’ back to Hahn’s Peak, so heated up some soup and made cheese sandwiches for dinner.
I was up bright an early the next mornin’. I had my old suitcase packed and were on the road by seven. I beat Lisa to the sheriff’s office, where we were gonna meet, and had a cup of coffee while I was a waitin’ for her. She showed up afore I finished my first cup of coffee.
“You ready to hit the road?” I asked her when she walked into the room.
She looked at me kind’a funny and then said, “Amos, you look like some kind of fugitive. I’m not going anywhere with you looking like a reject from some B-grade cowboy movie.”
Now that were puzzlin’ to me.
“What’cha talking about, I’m dressed like I always am?”
She scrunched up her nose, and then said, “Amos you can’t go to the city looking like that. People will think you’re some kind of derelict.”
She looked at me, and then said, “You bring any better clothes than what you have on?”
“These are just fine, I kind of like ‘em”
She grabbed me by the arm and started pullin’ me out the door. When we passed the Desk Sergeant, I thought he were gonna bust a gut laughin’.
“Where the hell are we goin’?”
She responded in a voice that left no doubt that she was serious.
“We’re going to get you some new clothes! That’s where we’re going!”
They was just openin’ up at F & M Light when she drug me through the door. She pulled me to the back of the store to the men’s clothing section and then started lookin’ me over. She took one look at my boots and shook her head.
“Amos, how long you had those boots? They look like they’re ready to fall apart!”
Hell I didn’t know. I remember buyin’ em in Mexico, maybe seven or eight years ago.
“It’s been awhile, but damn, their just gettin’ broken in.”
George, one of the owners, came over while we were in the middle of the discussion.
“Amos,” he said, “What can I do for you?”
I didn’t even get me a chance to answer. Lisa broke in and said, “What you can do is get this broken down cowboy to look like he’s part of the human race.”
George started a laughin’ so hard I though he might never stop. Once he got hisself under control, the agony began.
By the time they finished with me the bill came to almost five hunnert dollars. Hell, the damn boots were two hunnert all by themselves. Hell, I even got me a new suitcase--one of them kind with the wheels on it.
I turned to Lisa, “Now why in hell do you think I can afford this?”
She put her hands on her hips, and then said, “Amos, don’t give me any shit! Just pay the man!”
I could see that there weren’t no sense in arguin’ with her. I went to grab my hat and noticed it were purty ragged too. Hell, why not do it right. I bought a new Stetson too. By the time I was done the bill come to over six hunnert dollars.
Well, it’d been a while since I’d bought some new clothes, and although I ain’t rich by any means, but I don’t spend much either. I knew I had about twelve grand in the bank. So, I went back out to my truck and grabbed my checkbook from the glove compartment, returned and wrote out a check.
When we got to my truck Lisa said, “Don’t bother getting in. We have another stop.”
“We do?” I said.
She just nodded her head.
I stuffed all the boxes and bags in the truck, and then she grabbed me by the arm and started pullin’ me down Main Street. She stopped in front of the barbershop and pushed me inside.
There weren’t no one there and she kept a pushin’ me ‘til I sat down in the chair.
Mel, who was the barber, looked at Lisa and said, “What you tryin’ to do there lady, tame a mountain lion?”
Lisa ignored the comment and turned to the barber and gave him his orders. “Trim it up good and taper it in the back. Keep it fairly short.”
Afore I could say a thing, the barber wrapped me up in a cloth cover, pulled my hat off and started in with his clippers, and left quite a pile of hair on the floor.
It was almost nine-thirty by the time we made it back to the sheriff’s office.
Every one in the squad room thought it was hilarious when Lisa started packin’ my new duds. Damn if they didn’t fill up the whole new suitcase.
She kept a shirt, pants and my new boots out and directed me to go and get changed now!
By the time I finished a changin’ into my new duds Lisa was ready to go.
When I came back out to the squad room, my suitcase were packed. I think they must’a called in the off duty people, just to embarrass me.
Mark was standin’ by the counter, and laughin’. He finally straightened up and said, “Damn Amos, you don’t look half bad once you’re scrubbed up.”
I didn’t need this shit; I grabbed holt of Lisa and headed for the door. I started towards where my pickup was parked in the lot, but Lisa tugged on me and told me to go back and pick up the new luggage and bring it out to the truck.
When I returned with the suitcase in hand, she said, “Amos, we’re not taking that beat up truck of yours. Chances are it would fall apart before we could reach Denver.”
She then directed me towards an unmarked sheriff’s department car. We loaded our luggage in the trunk and then Lisa reached into her pocket and pulled out the keys to the car.
She tossed ‘em to me and said, “You drive, cowboy. I’m going to take in the scenery.”
The car was plain white in color, and when I got in I was surprised at all the gadgets. There were even a computer fixed to the middle of the front seat.
There weren’t enough snow yet to open up the ski slopes, so the town weren’t loaded with skiers. When we reached the east end of town, I could hear the snowmakin’ machines workin’ overtime on the ski slopes. I figured by the time we got back they’d be open and the town would be awash in skiers.
We took the Route 40 cut off, east of town, made it over Rabbit Ears Pass and three hours later was in downtown Denver. I mostly paid attention to my drivin’, although Lisa did give me a rundown on where all the switches were for the lights and siren. She started on the computer too, but I just tole her to stuff it. I didn’t understand the damn things and didn’t want to learn ‘bout them either.
Lisa looked up the address of the FBI office on the computer and then directed me to a building off of Lincoln Street. We parked the car in the underground lot, but first had to show our identification. The guard asked who we were gonna be seein’ and when we informed him it was Special Agent Driver, he made a call from his booth. We must’a been OK, as he let us through, and directed us to take the elevator to the fourth floor, and gave us the office number.
When we reached the office, we were greeted by a receptionist. Lisa explained who we were and that we had an appointment with Special Agent Driver. The receptionist directed us to take a seat and the agent would be with us shortly.
We had no more’n sat down when a man came through the door to the side of the receptionist. He were a big man too. I’m no slouch, coming in at six foot and a bit, but this guy must’a been six foot six and looked like a football lineman.
“Hi there he said, extending his hand to Lisa. She took it and then he turned to me.
“You must be Amos.” Then, he started laughin’
After a minute he continued.
“The judge say’s you’re a real piece of work, and I’m supposed to take into consideration that you’re an ornery cuss too.”
I pulled my brand new hat off my head, scratched the back of my neck, which were itchin’ from the haircut, and answered.
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