The driver starts to slow when we pull onto what looks like a private road. There’s a huge iron gate at the end. Embedded on the right side of the gate is the name, The Phoxes Den, with a fox tail at the end of the n. On the left side, there’s a big ass Christmas wreath.
Following the directions from my uncle’s texts, I instruct the driver to pull up to the speaker box. When I press the button, it buzzes then a raspy voice comes through.
“How can I help you?” he asks.
“I’m Meleck Baker here to see Rufus,” I tell him.
“The gate opens inward. Follow the road to the lodge.”
The gate opens slowly as the driver creeps onto the road. A half mile later, we pull up to a massive ranch-style mansion. I’ve heard about the size of The Phoxes Den and I’d even seen pictures online but in-person it’s a thousand times better.
The massive structure is a mixture of stone and wood. The exterior has walls of rock, stone, and brick but the beams and wraparound porch are made of traditional heavy timber. The ranch home I grew up in wasn’t even one-tenth the size of this.Damn.
After thanking the driver, I grab my rucksack and get out. Seconds after I close the door, he drives out of the circular driveway and a black Sprinter pulls up. Although I haven’t seen my uncle since my high school graduation, I recognize him immediately. I swear he has looked the same my entire life: tall,husky, and with a belly thanks to good food and a twelve pack of beer a week.
He spots me but takes care of his passengers first. Once the Sprinter is empty, he closes the door then steps to me. I hold my hand out for a shake but he grabs it, pulls me into him, and gives me a hug.
“Damn, Neph. You got big as hell in there. Chow wasn’t that good when I was enlisted,” he says after taking me all in.
“Unc, that was fifty years ago,” I tease.
“Twenty-one. Twenty-one,” he corrects before slapping my shoulder. “What happened to you yesterday?”
“Roads were bad in Missouri,” I tell him.
“Well, I don’t know what’s gonna happen. You ate yet? They still serving breakfast,” he says, then walks toward the large double doors.
I follow him to the doors then inside. Uncle Rufus is the epitome of a cowboy—steady, deliberate, and unmoved by anyone or anything that doesn’t align with him. I’m on his schedule, and since I want this job, I’ll gladly follow it.
As soon aswe enter the lodge, the warmth coming from the gigantic floor to ceiling stone fireplace hits me. I remove my coat and drape it over my hand. I reach for my Jaxson next but when I see that my uncle doesn’t take his hat off, I keep mine on too.
Christmas is almost two weeks away and the town was definitely decorated in preparation for it but this is next level. The big ass fireplace is adorned with deep green and poinsettia garland. Large, elegant ornaments fill the corners of the great room and a massive, beautifully decorated tree is at the center of it all. It has to be at least nine feet tall.
“Getting breakfast before your next trip?” a young jit by the fireplace asks as we pass.
“A man can’t function without fuel,” Unc says.
The jit and I acknowledge each other with a nod and I follow Unc into a large dining area. Another huge fireplace warms this room and the food on these plates looks good as fuck. Eating on a bus ride is not the best. The Panther Express offered snacks but the only real food I encountered was at four gas stations near the transfer stops. I’m hungry. That cornbread muffin in the car ain’t do shit for my hunger.
We sit at one of the tree tables against the log beamed wall. As soon as we do, a woman rushes over to us. “Warm milk?” she asks my Unc and I smile as he nods.
He really hasn’t changed at all.
“And you?”
“Just an OJ,” I tell her.
“Be right back,” she says and starts to walk off but my uncle stops her.
“You can go ahead and put our food in too. Two cowboy skillets with wheat toast,” he says, ordering for both of us. When she walks off, he adds, “You’ll like it. After we eat, we gon’ ride out to Travis and see if we can still get you on. Missing yesterday might have hurt you. We fill up fast around here.”
“Shit,” I utter. As far as I’m concerned, there’s no backup plan. I came to Miller’s Pointe to work here, at The Phoxes Den. “I’ll be right back. I need to wash up before I eat,” I say then stand.
As I pick up my rucksack, he says, “There’s a washroom to the right down the hall when you walk out.”
I nod then head to the restroom. There are two unisex and I enter the empty one. I place my sack on the stand, open it, and remove my toothbrush kit. After I brush and gargle, I wash my face with warm water and dry it with a stack of the disposable napkins. I need a real shower and good stretch but this willdo for now. Prayerfully, I’ll be in the ranch hand house after breakfast.
When I walk back out, our drinks and two small, sizzling cast iron skillets filled with grilled potatoes and onions, eggs, crumbled sausage, and gravy are on the table. As soon as I’m seated, Unc blesses the food and we chow down. I have to laugh after about fifteen minutes because we are true military men, eating in silence.
