CHAPTER 34: Red Rock and back home for Buck, “Corpus Christi.”

The Forks spent a long, relaxing morning in Hot Springs, moving from the moderately hot pools, to the scorchers, to the cool pools in a cycle of mineral bliss. And once all got their fill, and hunger began to call, they took their shriveled hands back to the dressing rooms, then to the dining hall for a meal before pointing the Chool Bus Southwest toward a small burg near Austin called “Red Rock.” There would be focus-group interviews in Austin, but first, a visit to one of Professor T’s early musical outlaw compadres near Red Rock. He was eager to catch up with his old bandmate and introduce him to the Forks and Buck.

So… beer cooler stocked, and everyone rejuvenated from the morning’s mineral soak, the Forks made their way across the lonesome Texas prairie. The atmosphere felt familiar to Buck, so he cued up a song that was haunting him as an earworm. It was from the Eagles founding member, Don Henley’s solo catalog. A high-lonesome ditty called “Lilah.” Rolling along that endless landscape, Buck treated the gang to some downright Texas expanse. All agreed, that song really hit the mark.

“Oh Lilah, the fields lay fallow, what will ye sow so shall ye reap. Oh Lilah, the ground we hallow is ours to tend and not to keep.” ~ Henley

“That’s a banger,” said Billie. “I sorta lost track of the Eagles after their initial breakup. I didn’t pay much attention to their solo albums.”

“Good one,” said Jack. “I forgot how good that record was. That’s the one with ‘Dirty Laundry’ on it, right?”

“Yup,” said Professor T. “Years before the Internet tore down legacy media’s hearts and minds monopoly. He was spot on with that one.”

“Well i coulda been an actor, but i wound up here. I just have to look good i don’t have to be clear. Come and whisper in my ear, give us dirty laundry.” ~ Henley

“Ouch,” said Billie. “I suppose he predicted the Fox News anchor lineup somewhere in there.”

“Yup,” said Buck. “1982… long before the Internet.”

“Got the bubble-headed bleach blonde… comes on at five. She can tell you ‘bout the plane crash with a gleam in her eye. It’s interesting when people die… give us dirty laundry.” ~ Henley

“Well, if that was an accurate mirror of public sentiment at the time, i guess the current distrust of establishment media was inevitable.” Buck was the youngest of the group… pretty well raised with the internet.

“Art influencing culture or reflecting it?” Jack was fishing.

“Most likely a little of both,” said Professor T. “In his heyday, Don Henley was quite good at channeling the zeitgeist.” Mork Thompson wasn’t much of a fan, but he does recognize talent when he hears it.

“We can do the innuendo, we can dance and sing. When it’s said and done we haven’t told you a thing. We all know that craft is king, give us dirty laundry.” ~ Henley

Mile after mile the gang sunk into their own thoughts as the lonesome Texas prairie rolled by. They arrived at Red Rock near sundown and Professor T’s friend was ready to receive the Forks for an unhinged bender under the glittering Texas stars. As the beer drained, and the stories spooled, Billie mused over the years gone by. She never took a conventional path in this life, and never harbored regrets. She absolutely loved meeting new people and seeing the country, town to town, and rocking their worlds with her kinetic drumming. Attacking those skins with the brutal energy of a Tasmanian Devil with anger issues. It was her bliss, her nirvana and she never grew tired of it.

As the coolers drew empty and snacks all devoured, the gang began drifting to the bus and the bunks, one at a time. Till it was just Professor T and his former bandmate, slurring reminiscences over ‘the good ol’ days.’ And since these old hands aren’t as spry as they used to be, they finally ran out of gas around the time after-gig parties used to begin… somewhere around 2:00 am. Back in the day, they would have seen the rising of the golden orb, the universal alarm clock. 

There would be time to rest before heading to Austin for the interviews, and Mork T was more than ready to crash.

***

After sleeping it off, the gang made their way to the University of Texas at Austin. After tearing down at the end of the session, they continued southwestward to Buck’s home stomping grounds just north of Corpus Christi. A ranch in cattle country, and Buck was excited to spend some time with his dad and the hired cowboys. And though the Corpus Christi area is home to some of the largest most historic cattle operations in the United States, Buck’s home ranch was more of a boutique, less well-known operation, but a thriving specialty of raising Texas Longhorns, known for those iconic, sweeping horns and extreme longevity. 

When the bus rolled down the driveway, the fragrant, billowing smoker issued forth a rich scent of slow smoked brisket. Buck’s dad was really putting on a spread for the returning grad student and his rambunctious companions. Billie and Professor T kept Buck’s dad busy with all sorts of citified questions, and Buck’s dad rose to the occasion with relish. He loves his life on the Texas prairie and Buck is proud of his upbringing and the cowboy life.

After dinner, the gang, still recovering from the previous night’s debauchery, filed, one at a time to the bunks on the bus leaving Buck alone with his dad.

After a relaxed silence, Buck cleared his throat. “I know we have very little in common, but i think i might be falling for our bus driver. She’s roughly eight years older than me, but i’ve never met anyone like her. She seems to harbor no ill will toward anyone, but at the same time, she takes no guff either. And talent… she literally rips on the drums. Here, watch this video of the band at Lollapalooza. It was a minor slot, but they rocked it, and Billie was a bundle of kinetic rage behind the kit.” 

“The band no longer takes gigs these days, and i think she may be ready to put the wanderlust in the closet and settle down.” Buck’s features brightened as the topic of discussion turned exclusively to Billie. “Dad, i might be falling for her,” Buck said with a wistful smile. “She kind of reminds me of Mom with her ‘do no harm, but take no shit’ countenance. What do you think?”

Buck’s father’s eyes narrowed as he quietly formulated his response. The front porch was quiet save for the rhythmic twittering of insects and the dull hum of a fan. Buck ran a thumb over the frayed edge of his bandana, his eyes fixed firmly on his hands.

“She told me she’s gender non-binary, Dad,” Buck said, his voice barely rising above the fan. “Says she’s thinking about settling down, maybe raise a couple of kids. But… i don’t know. It spins my head a bit.”

Gilbert “Gil” Wellstone took a sip of his iced tea, the scent of saddle leather heavy in the warm air. He looked at his son from under the brim of his arched eyebrows. “She give you any reason to doubt her word?”

“No,” Buck muttered, finally looking up. “Not exactly. It’s just… it’s a lot of variables, isn’t it? A lot of ways for it to go wrong. What if she wakes up three years down the road and realizes she’s missing out on a whole other side of herself? What if i’m not enough to keep her around?”

Gil set his glass down on the coffee table and wiped his hands on a dish towel. “Buck, any person on God’s green earth can wake up one morning and decide to walk away. That ain’t got a damn thing to do with who else she might find attractive in theory. It has to do with her character, and the promises she makes to you.”

“It’s just complicated,” Buck was uncharacteristically tentative.

“Is it?” Gil leaned back against the chair, his voice softening, losing the rough edge of a boss and finding the gentle cadence of a father. “Or are you just looking for a reason to bolt before she gets the chance to?”

Buck’s jaw tightened. “That’s not fair.”

“Maybe not, but it’s the truth,” Gil said, holding his son’s gaze. “Since your mom passed, i’ve watched you lock every door to your life and swallow the keys. You find a good horse, you worry about the day it might go lame. You find a good woman who’s being dead honest with you about who she is, and you start digging around for a reason she’s gonna leave.”

Buck swallowed hard, his eyes dropping back to the bandana in his hands.

“Your mother leaving this world wasn’t a choice, son,” Gil said quietly. “And it sure as hell wasn’t your fault. But you can’t live the rest of your days terrified of being left behind. If this girl chooses you, you have to decide if you’re brave enough to let her in. Don’t use her honesty as a shield to protect your own heart.”

Buck had much to contemplate, and he knew it was only going to get more complicated as the research tour rambled on.

NEXT WEEK:
Lake Charles, Louisiana.

GO BACK => Preface and Chapter Links