Chapter 15

There is a technique for using a shovel to dig a hole that minimizes the stress on the muscles of the back. There are bad techniques that will hurt the back, but will still result in the excavation of a hole. Unfortunately for Pepper, he was clueless when it came to using a shovel. His first attempt was to use it like a pogo stick. He held the handle straight up with both hands and then he jumped on the two flanges of the blade with both feet.

Craig watched incredulous as Pepper rode the shovel to the ground where he landed flat on his back. Pepper scrambled up from the ground and repeated the process with the same result. Unable to believe what he was seeing, Craig leaned against the side of the pickup truck with his arms crossed and watched Pepper attempt to dig a hole. He wished that he had a video camera with him because nobody would believe it when he would try to tell the story about how Pepper was using the shovel.

Exhausted, Pepper stopped his efforts and said, “This shovel doesn’t work.”

“Have you ever used a shovel?” Craig asked.

“No,” Pepper said. Seeing the look Craig was giving him, he said, “If you need a hole dug, you hire a Mexican.”

“There aren’t any Mexicans around here. Even if there were, I wouldn’t hire one,” Craig said.

“I’m not surprised,” Pepper said. “You’re a racist.”

Craig shook his head unable to believe the garbage coming out of Pepper’s mouth. He said, “No. I wouldn’t make any money if I hired a Mexican to do the job I was getting paid to do. If I tried to do that, Donny would just hire the Mexican and throw me off the ranch.”

“Oh,” Pepper said. He looked at the shovel in his hand. He said, “You mean we are the Mexicans.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Craig said.

“I don’t like the idea of that at all,” Pepper said with a frown.

Deciding it was time to teach Pepper how to use a shovel, Craig said, “Drop the shovel and step over to the side.”

Pepper dropped the shovel and walked away to the full extension of the chain. He said, “Okay.”

Craig went over and picked up the shovel. He then proceeded to explain and demonstrate the proper use of a shovel. After a couple of shovelfuls of dirt, he asked, “Do you see how to use it?”

“You make that look pretty easy,” Pepper said.

Craig said, “It is easy. Now dig a hole that’s four foot by four foot and six feet deep.”

Pepper picked up the shovel and reproduced what Craig had shown him. As he worked, he said, “I don’t mean to complain, but I’m taller than four feet and I’m not four feet across.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well I don’t want to spend all of eternity scrunched up like that,” Pepper said. “If I’m digging my own grave then I ought to be the one to decide the dimensions of it. Maybe I want it ten feet long, ten feet wide, and twenty feet deep. Did you ever think of that?”

“Don’t worry, this is just a practice hole,” Craig said with a smile. He realized that Pepper had not been paying attention to the work assignments over breakfast. Chuckling, he said, “You can dig your grave whatever size you want if you get this hole four foot by four foot and six feet deep.”

“A practice hole?” Pepper asked.

Craig knew that this afternoon was going to get him a lifetime of drinks down at the bar outside of town. No one would believe it.

He said, “Before you dig an important hole you have to practice your technique on a practice hole.”

“Oh,” Pepper said.

Craig leaned against the truck and watched Pepper work. After the first few shovelfuls of dirt, Pepper came to the brilliant conclusion that it was pointless to work frantically to dig the hole. He realized that the more time he took, the more time he had to live. As a result, he worked at a sedate pace and took small bites with the shovel. The poor man would have been devastated to learn that he was probably working at the optimal pace to get the job done in the shortest time.

After fifteen minutes, Craig said, “Take a break for fifteen minutes.”

“Okay,” Pepper said. He figured that he was supposed to work continuously until the hole was completed.

Craig said, “You might want to drink a little water.”

“Why?”

“So you don’t get dehydrated,” Craig said. “I’d hate for you to die while digging the practice hole.”

“Okay,” Pepper said.

He put down the shovel and picked up the iron bar. He shuffled over to the back of the truck where the water jug was perched on the tailgate. He took a cup and started to fill it.

Keeping a close eye on Pepper, Craig said, “Don’t drink too much.”

“You sure are bossy,” Pepper said. “I’d never get away with telling one of my employees back at the store when and how much they can drink.”

“You can suit yourself and drink as much as you want and when you want. Don’t complain to me when you pass out because you’re dehydrated or when you’re puking up your guts five minutes after getting back to work. Personally, I don’t care. I’ll just sit here and make fun of you,” Craig said.

“You would make fun of me,” Pepper said.

Deciding that Craig probably knew what he was talking about, he drank a little of the water.

Craig said, “Just to remind you, it would take us about an hour to get you to old Doc Taylor. It would take us about three and a half hours to get you to the hospital.”

“I forgot about that,” Pepper said.

He still couldn’t imagine how people managed to live like this. Back in Los Angeles he would have sued the city if an ambulance didn’t show up within five minutes. As far as he knew, having public services available on a moment’s notice was a basic constitutional right. He wasn’t sure which right it was, but he kind of remembered it had something to do with the amendment concerning the right to life, liberty, and happiness.

When it was time for the break to end, Craig said, “Get back to work.”

Pepper shuffled back to the hole carrying his iron bar. He dropped the iron bar and picked up the shovel. After just a few shovelfuls of dirt, he was working at the same sedate pace as earlier. While he worked he mumbled and grumbled about the unfairness of this and that. It kept his mind off the work and the hole slowly deepened.

After fifteen minutes, Craig said, “Break time. Let’s have a little lunch. We’ve got some sandwiches that Mrs. Daniels made. I think she made roast beef.”

Pepper went over and grabbed one of the sandwiches. It was wrapped in butcher paper. He ate a bite and then said, “This is great.”

Craig shook his head. He went over to the water jug and filled a cup with a little water. He poured the water over his hands and then dried them off on a towel that was hung over the jug. He picked up a sandwich. He said, “We’re not barbarians. You can wash your hands out here.”

“I thought that was drinking water,” Pepper said.

“It’s water. We’ve got two gallons of it in that jug. I think we can spare a cup each to wash our hands,” Craig said.

Pepper put down his sandwich and washed his hands in the same manner Craig had done. He picked up his sandwich and said, “This bread is delicious. Where did she get these buns?”

“Mrs. Daniels baked it,” Craig said. Seeing the surprised expression on Pepper’s face, he said, “It’s a thirty minute drive into town. We aren’t going to do that to buy bread every other day. She’s got a bread machine that mixes the dough for her and she bakes it in her own bread pans.”

“Oh,” Pepper said. “I guess I always think of bread as coming in plastic bags.”

“Just about everything you eat here is made or grown here with the exception of cheese, sugar, salt, coffee, and a few condiments. What we don’t grow, we trade for with others,” Craig said. “That cherry jam that we had for breakfast was made from cherries picked off the cherry trees that grow here. The butter and milk came from Dan’s place. Joe provides the eggs and poultry.

“Believe it or not, we provide the flour. A couple years ago, Sonny got an electric flour mill at some kind of swap meet. Now, Donny keeps a couple dozen bushels of wheat from the crop every year. He mills a bunch of it into a fine powder every three months and then lets it age to get rid of that yellow tinge.”

“This is like the food that you get at the organic grocery store,” Pepper said. “You know ... all natural.”

“I’m not sure what you mean by all natural,” Craig said.

“Without chemicals,” Pepper said.

Shrugging his shoulders, Craig said, “We don’t have a chemical laboratory.”

Waving around his sandwich, Pepper said, “I’ve wondered why everything tastes so good.”

“It just tastes like food,” Craig said. He pointed to the sandwich and said, “Eat up. You’ve got to get back to work soon.”

“Okay,” Pepper said.

It was near the middle of the afternoon, and Pepper was standing in a deep hole shoveling dirt, when he noticed a sound that was a lot like thunder. He looked up at the sky and saw that there wasn’t a cloud anywhere. He asked, “What’s that sound?”