Cowboy Girl Annie (2 page)

Disgusting clean trash! That was all
she'd seen in that bin. If there was a bright side to recycling,
she reckoned it was that she didn’t have to waste her time
rummaging through all the washed, plastic jugs and flattened
cardboard boxes in that dumpster.

Looking in those dumpsters was just
a waste of her time. It was plain as the nose on her face that she
wasn't going to find any scraps of food to eat in a recycling bin
or discover any tradeable items in there either.

After Annie took a second to ponder
about it, she decided there was a bright side to recycling bins.
The large, cardboard box, with refrigerator written on it, she
swiped from the appliance store dumpster to sleep under last winter
was clean.

At least, the box didn’t smell like
rotten meat. The boxes she used to get over the years out of dirty
trash behind the grocery store smelled rancid.

She surely didn't miss the winters
she slept under those stinky boxes. She attracted plenty of dogs
back then. She'd hear them sniff around the box and paw it, trying
to figure out how to get inside to lunch on the rotten meat they
thought it held.

Annie didn't mind the mutts nosing
around. She drew the line when they lifted a leg and marked their
territory on her box. She'd hear the spritzing sound, and the box
would fill up with a caustic smell. That's when she boiled out the
end she could unfold and threw her boot at the dogs to run them
off. The odor of dog pee didn't fade away very quickly even after
the box dried.

The next dumpster, Annie found more
to her liking the minute she opened the lid and took a whiff. A red
barbecue sauce stained takeout box was perched on top of the heap.
That box was thrown away not too long ago she reckoned since the
sauce spots looked fresh and sticky.

Annie snatched the box up and
brought it out of the dumpster. She licked her dry lips as she
hoped for plenty of meat on the leftover barbecued ribs. The box
was heavy. Maybe a picky eater hadn't liked the hot sauce on the
ribs and left most of the meat on the bones.

She smiled with eager anticipation
as she pictured the ribs. Some sucker's being fussy about his food
choices was fine with her. She wasn't too choosy to eat hot sauce
on her ribs. His loss was her gain.

Her hands shook from hunger as she
fumbled to opened the lid. Once she got a good look in the box,
Annie's hands trembled even worse, vibrating the box as she stared
into it. In the middle of the sauce stained box bounced a shiny
revolver. She'd rather had hot sauce ribs.

What dummy would hide a gun in a
dumpster? Especially in an empty, messy ribs box where the gun
could get all dirty.

She darted a glance up and down the
alley, tensing herself to run if she needed to get away. The hollow
thud of footsteps warned her someone was coming by on the
sidewalk.

Annie leaned against the dumpster
with her back to the sidewalk and froze to the spot. She didn't
want to attract a passerby's attention.

No way did she want to get caught
with that gun in her hands if the hombre who put it in the dumpster
was coming back after it.

She glanced over her shoulder and
saw a man, in a dark banker's suit, walk by fast without glancing
into the alley. For once, she felt lucky.

Annie wiped the sweat beads off her
forehead with the sleeve of her blouse. Sometimes my imagination
gets the best of me, Annie scolded herself. It ain't good for my
constitution to worry so much.

Chapter 3

Annie took a deep breath to steady
her trembling hands. When that didn't work, she mentally commanded
her hands to stop shaking. She was making too much noise, bouncing
the gun against the box. Someone passing by on the sidewalk was
bound to hear and be curious enough to check out the
noises.

She glanced from one end of the
alley to the other again just to make sure she was alone. This find
was going to take some purely serious pondering about. The person
who placed the box in the dumpster wouldn't make all the noise the
banker man did, walking on the sidewalk.

No sir! That person would skitter
along as quietly as that rat she saw earlier. He'd be about as
hunkered down and cagey as that rodent if he decided to come back
for his gun and as mean as that rat if he was cornered.

She eased the lid closed and stared
at the box. What should she do with it? Guns were worth a heck of a
lot of money. Too much for her to throw away one for no good reason
when she could use the money the gun would bring.

There, indeed, lay the rub.
Something bad had been done with that gun for sure. Like a bank
robbery or someone was murdered with it.

What other reason would a person
have for throwing away an expensive weapon like that? Annie
wondered.

The gun might be broken, she argued
with herself.

No, it couldn't be that. If the gun
didn't work, there wouldn't be any reason to hide it in a box to
throw it away, she reasoned.

The way the gun had been carefully
placed on top of the rest of the garbage made it look as if the
owner wanted the box easy to find later. The person might have
thought about coming back before the dumpster was
emptied.

Annie had a sick feeling in the pit
of her stomach. She sure didn't want to be cornered in this alley
with a gun that didn't belong to her. The owner would be in a
hurry. He wouldn't be happy to see her holding the ribs box he
wanted to take with him.

What should I do? Annie asked
herself.

That same inner
voice said, You get shut of that gun and do it fast.
Put that dangerous thing back where you found
it.

Annie reasoned with herself. You
sure don't want to be here when the gun's owner shows back up. What
would happen when a thug sees you holding his gun box?

Her inner voice warned, You would be
a dead duck. That's what!

Annie opened the dumpster lid and
lowered the box inside just as gently as she imagined the owner had
done it. She ought to try and put the box in about the same spot
she picked it up from so no one would know she handled the
box.

Besides, she was smart enough to be
afraid to drop the box. What if the gun was loaded, and the jolt
made it go off. Wouldn't that be an awful thing to
happen?

Shots fired were common place in
this part of town. Employees would peek out a crack in the side
doors of both the hotel and barbecue diner to see who shot who.
Probably call the cops to get help coming before they even got up
enough nerve to check the alley.

She could run away before the police
got there, but she stuck out like a sore thumb in most eye
witnesses memories with her western gear on. Anyone who saw her
would remember the way she was dressed well enough to describe her
to the cops. She was easier than most of the homeless people to
describe on the spur of the moment.

Almost every cop in town had watched
her push her cart along the sidewalks, in the park and alleys. They
would scour the streets for her until they caught up with
her.

Looking different than most homeless
people never bothered Cowboy Girl Annie before, but it would really
bother her if someone reported that she shot a gun in the alley and
got her in hot water with the cops.

As Annie closed the dumpster lid a
series of loud coos startled her. She flinched and swallowed hard
as she came out of her pondering. Looking up, she studied the hotel
roof where the noises came from.

She let go with a gusty sigh when
she realized she wasn't in danger. Not yet anyway! A dozen gray and
white pigeons strutted back and forth, peeking over the edge of the
roof to stare at her.

Quickly, Annie took another glance
around to make sure the coast was clear. It was. So she changed her
mind again. Annie opened up the dumpster and lifted out the box.
She set it down beside the shopping cart on the hard alley
dirt.

Annie rummaged to the bottom of her
shopping cart under the tradeable contents, stacking everything
into a heaped pile on the front end.

She straightened up with a large,
scuffed up, off white jewelry box in both hands. She always kept
the box at the bottom of the cart. That's where she could hide the
gun. That jewelry box was one item she didn't intend to get rid of
ever. It was her personal treasure.

Annie tenderly opened the jewelry
box's lid. A small ballerina in a pink tutu bounced upright on a
small stage and twirled slowly around to the tinny, tinkling tune
You Light Up My Life.

Annie tried every which angle she
could come up with to lay the gun on the jewelry box bottom. She
couldn't find a way. The gun just wouldn’t fit, because the
ballerina’s stage was in the way.

As much as Annie hated the thought,
the dancer would have to go. She felt guilty about even thinking
such a thing. The thought almost made her feel as maudlin as the
death of a close relative.

Many a time when she was lonely and
down, she huddled under her cardboard shelter with that jewelry box
beside her on her olive green, wool Army Surplus
blanket.

She'd open the lid and squint in the
dark, trying to watch the ballerina dance. That little dancer and
the music always cheered her up.

Annie wrestled with herself about
whether to rip out the ballerina or not. It would be like getting
rid of an old friend that had been good company. She didn't have
very many friends. She could count on one hand the live friends she
appreciated knowing.

Her eyes filled with tears when she
thought about the loss of that sweet music. She'd miss the comfort
of listening to You Light Up My Life.

Annie's imagination had always
allowed her to pretend she was at a stage production of ballerinas.
That ship sailed a long time ago. Her being able to go to a stage
show was something she knew was never going to happen with her
circumstances what they were.

At that moment, Annie decided she
best grow a new backbone and be practical. She realized she had to
think about herself and her needs. The gun was a trade or sell item
worth considerable money. Enough to eat well for several weeks in
the Maid Rite Diner on the corner of Elm and Maple Streets if she
stretched the money out.

As long as she paid cash, the diner
owner had always been kind enough to let her eat in a back booth.
Her stomach full for a few weeks was surely more important than a
ballerina dancing to music in a fancy jewelry box. Wasn't
it?

Annie's lips flattened together in a
grim line as she wrapped her fingers around the frail figure in the
net skirt. She ripped out the stage the ballerina set on and the
small, gold, metal music box attached underneath.

The ballerina continued to twirl to
the music when Annie set her gently down on an old army flack coat
she'd wadded up in the corner of the cart.

Now that the space in bottom of the
jewelry box was opened up, she placed the gun on the dingy, pink
velvet lining. She was relieved to see the gun laid flat now. She'd
have really hated how she wrecked her jewelry box if that gun
wasn't meant to fit in it.

Gently, Annie placed the ballerina
on the ground. With another look both directions in the alley,
Annie set the jewelry box back on the bottom of the cart and spread
all the other items over it to cover it up.

She picked the dancing ballerina up
and opened the dumpster lid to toss her into the barbecued swill.
Her hand froze in mid air. She just couldn't do such an awful act
to that clean ballerina that had given her so much comfort when she
was lonely and blue.

So Annie walked over to the clean
trash dumpster, opened the lid and placed the performer down on the
flat side of a gallon milk jug. Now the dancer could finish this
one last dance.

“
Take it easy, my little friend. If
this morning works out right, I just might be back after you. Don't
give up hope yet. Maybe I'll see you later, ya hear,” Annie
whispered as she lowered the dumpster lid.

Without looking back, Annie pushed
her shopping cart out of the alley as she listened to the song fade
away with distance.

She pictured her ballerina
eventually winding to a stop as the battery died. Her lips
trembled. She surely would miss that ballerina. She had only
herself to blame if this fool notion didn't work.

Walking away was like leaving a
faithful friend to die unattended. She ought to know about such
things, after all. She'd lost count of all the friends she'd sat
with in an alley or the shelter house in the park until they took
their last breath.

Mostly, she was on death vigil in
the winter time when everyone, down on their luck, caught head
colds. In their run down conditions and exposed to the winter
elements because they didn't have the nice cardboard boxes like the
one she slept in, the colds turned into pneumonia.

Dang! She surely did get sidetracked
easily. She still hadn't found any food, and not much chance of
finding scraps until later this evening now. As long as she'd
fooled around in that alley, she was bound to be out of luck for
lunch. The other rummagers were sure to have checked all the good
dumpsters by now.