It wasn’t uncommon for ol’ Vic Volente to not be seen around town for long stretches of time. He kept to himself a good bit.
“It wasn’t that he was unsociable. . . .” Sister Thelma started to say when they were talking about him around the big round table at the Grounds for Divorce.
“It damn sure was!” Rusty from the hardware store lacked the good graces to not speak ill of the dead. “The old coot was as ornery as a pregnant heifer backed into a corner by a pack of rabid she-wolves.”
Chief Martin claims he can’t even recall exactly who it was that called in a well-check for ol’ Vic, but it must have been someone who saw him more regularly than most folks in Fort Stockton. But he got in his Galaxie squad car and headed out to Vic’s spread out off Spur 194 about 20 miles southwest of town.
“When I got there, Vic’s old 1954 GMC 100 Pickup was parked out in front of his place, so I figured he was probably home. It was obvious he hadn’t hauled anything in the back of the ol’ GMC for years; the wood floor of the bed of the dang thing was completely missing,” Chief Martin said.
The truck wore faded blue paint that had worn through on various panels. Corrosion was visible throughout, and the truck retained a left-side spare tire mount, a driver-side mirror, and turn signals. There was rust below the driver’s door and on the truck bed brackets. The wood cargo bed floor was not present, and the windshield wipers didn’t work. That might be why Vic never came to town in foul weather. Or ‘most any other kind of weather, for that matter.
The truck was in bad shape. “But not nearly as bad as ol’ Vic was,” the chief said. “The front door was unlocked. Just as well. Any thief thinking he was going to come in and rob the place would have gotten a helluva shock when they came through that front door and saw ol’ Vic sittin’ in that rocker next to the fireplace.”
The table wasn’t quite prepared for the description that followed, particularly those who had just had their blue plate breakfast special placed before them.
“Vic’s mouth was gaping open and he looked like a statue of stone. I couldn’t rightly tell just how long he’d been dead, but by the smell it had to be better than a week. Maybe two,” the chief said. Chad’s gag reflexes were clearly working at peak levels. “Anyway. It looked like he went quick. There was a half empty shotglass of whiskey on the small table next to him and a Larry McMurtry novel in his lap. Pretty easy to see he wasn’t expecting to meet his maker when he sat down, just enjoy a good story and calm his nerves.”
There was no sign of foul play. Nothing missing, not that there was ever much to actually go missing at Vic’s place. As anyone could tell by looking at his humble cabin and ragged pickup, Vic was a man who didn’t take stock in worldly possessions. Lucinda remembered him telling her, “I intend to go out of this world with not much more than I came into it with.” It looked like he kept his pledge as Chief Martin went about the grim task of inspecting that which Vic left behind.
Chief Martin called into the station and got Nelda on the radio. “Get the meat wagon out to the Volente place. Tell them to be sure and have some Vicks Vapo-Rub with them for their noses when they get here. No pun intended. Ol’ Vic is pretty ripe.” Nelda, who had fielded a hundred calls like that during her years in the Chief’s office, seemed to take the news harder than usual. Chief Martin thought that was unusual.
The lack of a wife, children, or any known heirs made that task of disposing of Vic’s belongings more difficult. There was something Vic left behind that was extensive and helpful: records. The old cowboy may have been short on possessions and few with his words, but the records he left behind inside, on top of, and in stacks next to his old oak roll-top desk were incredible. The man was methodical in ways folks would never expect an old cowboy to be.
Vic ended up on ice over at Bridges Funeral Parlor for a good bit longer than normal while Chief Martin did all he could to try to track down any next-of-kin. Luckily Franklin Danbury Jr. was able to step in and provide some answers. Vic had left behind a will. “He had no living relatives, or not any that he’d claim,” Danbury told the chief over coffee at the Grounds for Divorce several days later. “But he was specific as to what he wanted done with his estate. The property he owned was to be deeded over to Pecos County with the stipulation it never be developed.”
Chief Martin was a little surprised, never figuring Vic for someone that civic minded.
“The cabin he lived in all those years is to be burned to the ground before the county takes ownership of the place,” Danbury went on. “He said that he figured it was a fair trade off for the Fort Stockton Fire Department to supervise the fire in return for the county gaining ownership to the land. But, that if Mayor Goodman got involved and wanted to charge the estate anything for the department’s oversight of the fire, that the land would then be sold and the proceeds donated to any candidate opposing the mayor in the next election.”
Chief Martin laughed at that provision. “The ol’ bastard never did care much for Mayor Goodman, did he?” Danbury just chuckled.
“None of the contents of the cabin are to be removed prior to its destruction. Vic was adamant about that. You’re probably going to want to post someone out there, or at least put up signs until the arrangements can be made,” Danbury said.
“If it matters, he wanted to be placed in the cabin before the fire was lit,” Danbury said. “It took quite a while to convince him that the legality of such a request would be questionable. It was only after I pointed out that it would probably be a deterrent for people to use the gift of his land if they knew they were stomping around in his ashes. That’s when he finally backed off.”
The two men rose, shook hands and were about to each go their separate ways when Danbury turned around. “Oh, by the way,” he called out to the chief. “Vic signed the title for the old GMC truck over to Jim Bowie High School months ago. Said he wanted the auto shop to have it and do the best they could with it. I’ve told the principal to make arrangements to come and get it.”
