The Buck Passes Flynn by Gregory McDonald Read Free Book Online Page A

one-hundred-thousand-dollar packages came from the Lord. Everyone else’s one-hundred-thousand-dollar packages came from the devil.”
    “Not much help,” she said.
    “Not all that much.” Flynn moved his glass forward and spoke to the counterman. “Here. Could we have more water, please?”
    The man seemed to consider the request before fulfilling it.
    Flynn said, “It seems everyone in Ada, Texas, received a package with one hundred thousand dollars cash in it.”
    “But, Flynn, is that all? Is that enough to make people pull up stakes, leave their homes, their ranches, their cattle, their friends?”
    “I think so.” Flynn drained his water glass.
    “Come on. These ranches are valuable. Some must be worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. People’s homes.”
    “Funny things have been happening to money,” Flynn said. “Since I’ve been in Texas I’ve heard theexpression ‘cash money.’ There’s money and there’s cash money, apparently.”
    “The equipment they own. A combine these days costs more than fifty thousand dollars.”
    “Remember, Ducey Webb: each person in town received one hundred thousand dollars in cash. One hundred thousand for Papa Bear, one hundred thousand for Mama Bear, one hundred thousand for each child bear, and only the pig woman didn’t care. A husband and wife with two kids therefore received four hundred thousand dollars. That’s cash money. All spendable. No taxes need be paid on it, if they keep quiet about it.”
    “Still, Flynn …”
    “You’ve seen Ada, Texas?” Flynn asked.
    “Yeah …”
    “Suppose you were a poor old boy workin’ your butt off out here, scrubbin’ around in this earth for no good reason except that you were born to it, ranchin’ a piece of land because someone once told you it was your land, but in truth you’re mortgaged to the hilt and the banks have come to own the land you’re breakin’ your back over, and they also own your tractor and your truck and your living-room chair. Because people have been sellin’ you credit so long every year you’re paying more and more interest, all your costs are going up, through interest payments, increasing taxes, inflation, what you regard as money makes less and less sense to you. And then one morning you find four hundred thousand dollars cash money outside your front door. Now, tell me, Ms. Webb, what would you do? Give half of it to the government in taxes and the other half to the banks and go back to mendin’ your fences, still makin’ a tough living, still in debt? Or would you decide to go ‘see what other suns and moons there are,’ to borrow a line from a play whose name I forget?” Flynn drank her water. “We’re all in prisons, Ms. Webb. There aren’t manyof us—just the preacher and the odd eccentric—who doesn’t believe the key to letting us out of that prison is money. Cash money.”
    “I was warned about your philosophical moments.” Ducey Webb grinned.
    “I call it thinkin’, myself,” said Flynn.
    “You just said that cash is enough to justify a whole townful of people running off, leaving their homes, their ranches, their friends….”
    “Runnin’ off from Ada, Texas, to be specific,” Flynn said. “No insult to the old place intended. It’s not that bad a place. A man can flap his elbows here.”
    “Okay, Flynn, if we cut the crap?”
    “You’re just thirsty,” said Flynn, patiently. He said to the counterman, loud enough to be heard by all present, “More water, please.”
    A young man down the counter said, “More water, please. More water, please.” He drawled Flynn’s lilt “What they whisperin’ about, Sam?”
    The counterman refilled their glasses.
    “I’ve got to admit to you, Ms. Webb, it’s an astoundin’ idea—someone runnin’ around droppin’ a hundred thousand dollars in cash money on people. Not the usual thing at all. Not easy to put the mind around.”
    “You’ve come to Ada, Texas, Flynn, and established, apparently