“I took care of the car rental,” Sherry said. “I told them you’d be there around nine a.m. to pick up the car.”
“Thanks. Now take me to catch the plane for Belize City.”
By ten o’clock I was on the Burrell Boom road heading into Bermudian Landing. From there I would take the Lemonal Road to a cutoff that would take me to Mike McFarland’s ranch near the Crooked Tree Wildlife Sanctuary.
That was the plan, but when it started raining the dirt road to Mike’s place turned to sludge and before long my rented car was hopelessly stuck. An hour later the rain stopped. As I sat there wondering what to do, a Mennonite with a horse and wagon came plodding up the road.
“Good day, neighbor,” the man said. “You look like you need a hand.”
“I certainly do,” I told him. “I need to get a wrecker to tow this car out of the mud.”
“You don’t need a wrecker,” he said. “My horse, Billy, can pull the car out for you.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. Billy is very strong.”
After unhitching Billy, the Mennonite produced a coil of rope from the wagon. He tied it to the car and to Billy’s collar. He gave the reins a slap and yelled, “Pull, Nellie! Pull!”
Billy stood where he was.
With another slap, the Mennonite yelled, “Pull, Blackie! Pull!”
Billy still did not move.
Another reins slap followed with, “Pull, Johnny!”
Next, the Mennonite slapped the reins and said, “Pull, Billy! Pull!” Billy surged forward and easily pulled the car from the mud.
“That was strange,” I said. “Why did you call him by the wrong name three times?”
“Because he’s blind. If he thought he was pulling that car by himself he wouldn’t have even tried.”
