Sunburn, Texas

There’s one road in, a blinking red light, and the same road out of town again. It’s the locus of local government and the only incorporated municipality in the county. A sign at the edge of town promotes the local motto—“We love God, family, and country. No vacancies.”

Located in the Toyah Basin, the town sits just north of the Davis Mountains. Mesquite, creosote, prickly pear, and every other thorny plant that hates mankind thrives here. Likewise, anything on two or more feet—or without feet—is about as friendly and welcoming as bull nettle. Droughts aren’t measured in years, but decades.

It’s not Hell, but when that nefarious region lets loose an eructation, they can taste it here.

The four men were sitting under cantilever umbrellas around a patio table. A few feet away, an Olympic-sized swimming pool reflected the sun’s scorching rays off adobe walls in brightly shimmering waves. Sitting in the middle of the Chihuahuan Desert, it was about as incongruous as a Dead Lobster restaurant on the moon.

Mayor Melvyn Handcock addressed the group.

Pauchet / Sunburn / 2

“Well, boys, it’s that time again. We have to work out the numbers for another annual budget.”

Melvyn was in his eighth term and considered likely to continue winning reelection for the rest of his life.

Marvin Handcock was a city commissioner.

“The Sheriff has been up my ass for one of those armored SWAT vehicles, again.”

Like everyone’s eyes in the sun-drenched region, the mayor’s were perpetually squinted.

“Marvin, we have two cops. You really think a souped-up Humvee is going to be the difference between anarchy and law and order?”

Joe Bob Handcock, the other city commissioner, chuckled.

“C’mon, Marv, you know we already agreed, if there’s any money left over, we promised mom to pave Aunt Gertrude’s alley this year.”

City manager, Bud “Buddy” Hornberger, remained silent. His beady eyes constantly darted around the group. Melvyn opined he resembled a ferret. Everybody else swore there were opossums in his family tree.

A graduate of a well-advertised online university, he earned a Master of Public Administration, making him the most educated person in the county. That garnered reliance and distrust. His job security was a lifetime contract with the city.

Bud cleared his throat.

Pauchet / Sunburn / 3

“I’m just wondering if this is an official city meeting or if we’re off the record here?”

Melvyn’s eyes bored into Bud’s.

“How many times do I have to tell you? We’re never on the record. If anybody’s listening, we’re in executive session. It’s only official when somebody’s name is on the dotted line.”

The mayor always had one of the city commissioners sign anything that might be subject to investigation. Plausible deniability.

Bud shifted in his chair, one hand adjusting his tie.

“Since we’re talking about fiscal matters, maybe we can address the water shortage? TCEQ wants to know where all the water from that new pipeline they paid for is going .”

The well had run dry. Or pretty darn close. Any surface liquid with H2O in its chemical composition had vanished millions of years earlier. A small, underground aquifer had kept the area hydrated for over a hundred years. Now that was severely depleted.

Fortunately, the misery was equally shared by their neighbors. In a serendipitous moment, local denizens discovered the combined numbers attracted media attention and questions for state leaders. Then, like Robin Hood in cowboy boots with a cheerful, “Howdy, ya’ll,” the Texas Commission on Environmental Quality stepped in with millions of tax dollars for pipelines draining water from wetter parts of the state.

Melvyn glanced at the swimming pool and the verdant golf course beyond before responding.

“Tell ‘em we suspect climate change is causing most of the water to evaporate before it reaches us. We need bigger pipes.”

Pauchet / Sunburn / 4

“Yes, sir, Mr. Mayor. Also, the Texas Period has been calling again. They want to schedule an interview with you.”

“Yeah? What about this time?”

“I think maybe one of your contractors put a bug in their ear about the golf club.”

The Raisin County Private Golf Club was the most exclusive in Texas. Maybe the world. Their entire membership was sitting at the table. The only non-member, Bud was more of a pickleball man.

“Damned overeducated, underworked liberals. Always sticking their noses into matters that don’t concern them.”

Unusual among locals, Marvin was an eternal optimist.

“Might not be so bad. Last time they came around, you got your picture in their magazine.”

Melvyn snorted.

“Being featured as Asshole of the Month isn’t my idea of good publicity.”

“Don’t know why you’re so bothered. Long as we’re the ones counting the ballots, there’s not much chance of you losing an election.”

Marvin’s brow was smooth. Like Teflon, the stain of scandal never found a place to roost on him.

“What do you want me to tell them, sir?”

Pauchet / Sunburn / 5

“You know, I never thought I’d say it, but I miss old Molly. Never cared for her politics, but she knew how to keep people’s attention focused where it needed to be—on that bunch in Austin.”

A convoy of SUVs rolled up in a cloud of dust. Doors opened, and grey uniformed DPS troopers began disembarking.

Melvyn’s eyes widened. He stared at Bud.

“What the hell? You didn’t say anything about warrants. Dammit, I need time to fabricate a defense.”

A small, nondescript man of indeterminate age exited one of the vehicles. His bodyguards towered over him.

“Must be an election year in Austin,” Marvin opined.

Joe Bob’s eyes squinted. “I’d swear I’ve seen his picture on a milk carton.”

He was impeccably dressed in a grey, bespoke Gus Karim suit free of any hint of wrinkle or dust. His Luchesse ostrich skin boots were custom cobbled for him in El Paso. The brim of his Stetson was large enough to shade a troop of cookie pushing girl scouts. Sporting a grin that revealed every bleached and polished tooth, the little man swaggered up to the table.

“Howdy, boys. I’ve been told this is where you’ll find the powers that be in Raisin County. Tell the truth now, is that a fact?”

He chortled.

Pauchet / Sunburn / 6

Melvyn stood and held out his hand.

“That’d be a fact. Howdy, Merton. I heard you was running for some office or another.”

“Yep, and I’m here to find out what promises the good people in your jurisdiction want to hear in return for their votes.”

Without prompting or introduction, Bud blurted, “Water.”

“Oh hell, is that all? We got plenty of that in East Texas. You boys thinking about giving Vegas a little competition?”

Merton chuckled, amused by himself.

Bud’s face was expressionless, his lips forming a straight horizontal line.

“You ever seen how much water it takes to keep a golf course green?”

Melvyn glared at him.

Bud suddenly manifested an overwhelming desire to minutely observe the condensation forming a ring around his soda bottle on the table top.

Joe Bob spoke up.

“So what are you offering for our votes this year?”

“Depends. How many you got?”

Marvin beamed.

“Double what we had last time. I personally registered everybody in the cemetery, this year.”

Pauchet / Sunburn / 7

Melvyn squinted.

“If you’re going to be in Washington, how about sending us some of those fat federal grants?”

“I don’t see a problem with that. How about a couple of stop signs? That’s always a crowd pleaser. Real revenue generators for our boys in uniform too.”

Melvyn sucked on his teeth.

“To tell the truth Merton, I could use a small favor. If you got any stroke with the TCEQ, I’d sure appreciate you telling ‘em to back off investigating how we use our water out here.”

Merton shoved his hands into his tailored dress pants and sighed.

“I’d sure love to help ya there, Melvyn, but the governor’s giving them boys carte blanche this year until after elections. Trying to attract the green vote, you understand.”

“I remember a time when we was the party of less government,” Melvyn groused.

“Oh, we still are. For us. Leaves more for everybody else.”

Seeing the look on the mayor’s face, Merton clapped him on the shoulder.

“You know everything changes after the votes are counted. We always remember our friends, Melvyn. Now when I’m elected, and I mean if, of course,” he winked at the table, his listeners leaning in closer like cotton balls being sucked up by a tornado, “I just might have the solution to your predicament.”

Merton smiled like Mephistopheles sealing the deal on another lost soul.

Pauchet / Sunburn / 8

“I believe I can prevail upon my good friend in the governor’s mansion to appoint someone of your choosing to the board overseeing the TCEQ. After all, we don’t want a bunch of outsiders deciding how we manage our own durned water policy.”

Melvyn smiled and nodded.

Joe Bob cocked his head.

“I been hearing on the news, you’re in a tight race with that old boy from El Paso, Merton.”

The candidate made a dismissive motion with his hand.

“Pfft. That boy wears dresses and gave himself a Mexican nickname. Now all of a sudden, he’s the biggest noise those bluebellies down in Austin have had since Francis Farenthold. I ain’t worried.”

Joe Bob didn’t seem convinced.

“I dunno, to hear them talking heads, he’s polling strong in the big cities.”

Merton glanced at the wide blue Texas sky before answering.

“Joe Bob, the voters of this great state aren’t going to let that happen. The thought of a Democrat representing them in Washington, why that’d go over like a billboard of Santa Anna pissing on the front door of the Alamo.”

Merton’s bodyguards glowered at the suggestion.

“I gotta get outta here boys, places to go, people to do—a politician’s work is never done.”

Pauchet / Sunburn / 9

The members of the Raisin County Private Golf Club and their city manager each shook his hand.

“Now, just between us and the fencepost, I intend to keep it business as usual.”

Caught up in the moment, Marvin burst out, “God bless Texas!”

“Amen, brother. To him who has, the more shall he take. So ya’ll turn out the vote for me on election day now, ya hear?”

With another trademark, tooth baring grin, Merton was gone in a wave of grey. SUVs roared to life, hurtling down the road to his next campaign stop.

Bud’s eyes narrowed watching the convoy speeding away in a cloud of dust.

“Is it just me, or did that sound like a used car salesman’s spiel?”

Melvyn sounded stoical.

“We don’t have much to bargain with, so he’s saving his political capital for where it matters.”

“Looks like it’s back to the grant research, Bud,” Jim Bob surmised.

Staring at his soda bottle, Bud opined, “One of these days, Texas is going to have to move past longhorns and covered wagons.”

Melvyn squinted.

“What do you mean, Bud?”

Pauchet / Sunburn / 10

“What I mean is, you can’t keep fooling all these people forever. Someday they’re going to demand a real voice in government. Equal representation.”

“Sounds like liberal speak to me. As for ‘equal representation’, we already got that one senator in Washington from Mexico.”

“I believe you mean Cuba, sir.”

“Does he speak Mexican?”

“If you’re referring to Spanish, yes sir.”

“Close enough.”

Joe Bob rested his chin on his fore finger.

“So we’re back where we was when we started. What’re we going to do for water?”

Melvyn stood up.

“Well, I don’t know about you boys, but I think I’m gonna go for a swim. That danged sun is roasting me like a taquito on a grill.”

Peeling out of his shirt, Melvyn ran to the pool and cannonballed into the deep end, followed by Marvin and Joe Bob.

Pulling out his cell phone, Bud punched a number on his contacts list for the manager of the town’s grocery store.

“Hey, Vern Handcock, it’s Bud. You might want to stock up on bottled water.”