Randy White - The Man Who Ivented Florida

"Hum…" said Joseph, starring. "What's that thing you kicked?" He picked up something and held it to the light. "Stick with a ribbon on it."

Tucker was still cleaning his boot. "That? Oh, that. Doesn't seem to be much of anything. Golf flag for midgets? Ha-ha."

"Looks like a survey stake to me."

"Yeah, well-you named it." Tucker dropped the stick he had been using, picked up the lantern, and resumed the search. "Florida state flag, that's what it is. I can't fool you, never could, so I might just as well come out and say it plain."

Joseph said, "That'll be the day."

"Naw, I mean it. I was going to tell you, but not tonight. Didn't want to spoil your homecoming. Hell, you know how sentimental I am."

"Uh-huh."

Tucker said, "Here it is!" meaning the path. Then to the horse: "Stay here, Roscoe. I don't want you dropping pies in the water." Tucker stepped over a little arch of mangrove roots, snaking his way through the low trees. Mosquitoes found them-a swirling veil of silver in the lantern light-and Tucker continued to talk as they twisted along the trail, ducking low. "What's going on, Joseph, I used to own 'bout a hundred and twenty-five acres. Owned that whole stretch along the bay, them docks, the shacks-well, hell, you know what I owned."

Joseph knew. Tucker had once tried to get him to buy half of it.

"I was what us businessmen call land-poor. Wasn't making much money on cattle, but the damn commissioners kept raising my taxes 'cause it was waterfront. See"-he stopped to look around at Joseph, emphasizing the point-"that's the way they run all us old fishermen out. Rich people want to live by the water, so they tax waterfront property like it's all owned by rich people. If I was to tell you what I was paying every month in taxes-" Tucker started walking again. "So I had to sell off a big chunk of it just to pay the bills."

"You sell it to the government?"

"Hell no, you think I'm nuts?" Tucker spit. "Sold it to a big company. To a land trust, it's called. Sold a hundred acres and kept twenty-five. My place, the shacks, and the docks."

"Never pictured you selling your land."

"Yeah, but things was tight. Plus, the state was going to take it, anyway. That's what I figured. Them bastards. But I've been fighting 'em. Showin' them they're not messing with some kid. Lemar Flowers, he's been helping me right along. You remember-"

"The judge? Judge Flowers, sure I remember him. He's tricky."

Tucker smiled. "That's the man. Only he ain't a judge no more, just a lawyer. He got into some kinda scrape with a neighbor. The neighbor tried to nudge the boundary lines over by building a toolshed that crossed the line. And old Lemar-I can picture him doing this. Old Lemar, he climbs up on a bulldozer and just runs the toolshed down. Flattens it. He had to stop being a judge after that, that and the way he loves his liquids. But I knew the moment I heard that story, Lemar was just the lawyer for me. The one who could help me fight these state buzzards, keep them outta Mango."

Joseph said, "Mean, keep them from taking your twenty-five acres."

"My twenty-five? Hell, no. Keep them from taking any of it."

"But the rest of it ain't your land no more, so I don't see how it matters who owns it."

Tucker cleared his throat-the sound of a patient man. "See, that's the difference 'tween you and me, Joe. You don't use your brain."

"Yeah," Joseph cut in, "and you're like one of them lizards you grab but the tail comes off in your hand. Being different from you is what I like."

"I'm just saying you don't have my knack for seeing how things work. Don't mean nothing bad by it. But use your head. The state comes in here and makes a park, why, hell, it'd be like livin' in a prison. Them people in uniforms walking around, giving everybody orders. Paintin' everything gray or green. Gad! Galls me just thinking about it. My land! And they're just so dang sneaky about things. The ones in the uniforms, they act high and mighty enough. But them state guys who wear the suits, they're the worst. They come down here trying to shake my hand, smiling at me in that snooty kinda way. You know, like a school principal kinda smile? Like they got all the power in the world. They can squash me like a bug if they want, but they want to be professional doin' it. Bastards ain't never had to make a payroll in their life, ain't never had to bust their balls to pay for a prime chunk of land, but they can stroll around here like they own the place, tell me what I've been doing wrong."

Joseph tried once more. "But if you sold it. If it ain't your land-"

Tucker made an odd noise, a little chortling sound. "That there's where it gets complicated. Yes indeed! Just trust me, Joe. I ain't a man to be taken lightly. You know that."

Joseph nodded. Tuck could have been lying all night, but that much was true. He was not a man to be taken lightly.

Tucker said, "Me and Lemar Flowers, we got it all worked out. Well… parts of it. Me, I'm working out the rest. You know how them state people, they're so sneaky? They come down here trying to push the whole thing down my throat. Tryin' to do it real fast, just wham-bam, thank you, ma'am. Wantin' to do their tests and surveys for all their fancy permits? Well, Lemar, he sets them down and makes 'em agree to hold a meeting. A public hearing, you know, right here at my place before their board or commission or whatever the hell it is condemns my land. Hell, you shoulda heard them scream about that. Those hearings, they always hold up to Tallahassee. But Lemar fixes it so they can't come on my land to do their tests unless they agreed. November ninth, that's the day. A Monday. Plenty of time." Tucker made the chortling sound again. "All I had to do was slow them down a little."

Tucker kept on talking, but he was getting repetitive, so Joseph tuned him out. Tuck was saying a lot, but he wasn't saying everything-he never did-but the whole story would gradually reveal itself, and Tuck's schemes were often interesting. They almost never worked, but they were interesting. Tucker was manipulating him, but Joseph didn't mind. It was like buying a ticket to get into a movie theater. Being manipulated was the price.

Joseph said, "Yeah, yeah, uh-huh," walking along, enjoying the freedom of being out in darkness. It had been a long time since he'd been in a mangrove swamp, and he liked it; liked the way the muck sucked at his boots, sending up a sulphur bloom with every footstep. A bruised kind of smell, like walking on something alive. Then they came onto higher ground and a little clearing- not a clearing, actually, but a hollow walled by trees and roofed with limbs. In the center was an abrupt hill of sand and shell.

Joseph could hear the shells crunching as he followed Tuck up the incline.

"Indian mound," Joseph said.

"Yep," Tucker said softly. "Little one." He turned the lantern's knob, and the light faded with a gaseous hiss. "Didn't even know it was here. Roscoe found it, not me."

Joseph stood, feeling easy. He'd been on many Indian mounds- his people, the Calusa, had built them all along the west coast of Florida. Built them out of shells of all sizes; left pottery shards a thousand years old or more, but little else. Because the mounds were the only high ground around, early settlers had homesteaded them, farmed them, raised their children on them, moving inland only when cars replaced boats as the common means of conveyance. Joseph had spent most of his childhood on one mound or another, but he'd never seen one like this. At the top of the mound was a little circular spring. The spring was lined with rock. Some of the rock had fallen in, and water bubbled out of the rocks. Tucker had turned out the lantern for a reason: The water sparkled with turquoise light, like little fireflies being swirled in the current.