I stepped off the plane at Belize Municipal Airport and heard someone say, “Howdy, partner.”
I looked around and sure enough, the man was talking to me. He was a big, tall man wearing a Stetson western hat.
“Hi,” I said.
“I was wondering if you could tell me how I go about getting to the capital of this here country,” he said.
“You want to go to Belmopan?”
“Yeah, that’s it. I need to go talk to some people about a land deal.”
“I happen to be going to Belmopan myself,’ I said. “You can share my taxi if you want to. It should be here any minute.”
“I’d sure like that,” he said. “My name’s John Wilton but everybody calls me Big John.”
I introduced myself and said, “The only possible problem is that I have to stop on the way for a short visit with my old friend Mr. Samuel at his ranch.”
“That ain’t no problem. I got a ranch in Texas myself. Ranching is what I do.”
Steve arrived with his taxi and we took off for Belmopan. For the next half hour I had to listen to Big John, He told me how big Texas is, how big his ranch is and how big his bulls are. He had a big mouth, too. I figured that’s why people called him Big John.
We got to Mr. Samuel’s place and he came out to greet us. He already knew Steve and I introduced Big John.
While we were walking around the little ranch Big John said, “Hold on a minute here, partner. Exactly how big is your spread, anyway?”
“I got maybe twenty acres,” Mr. Samuels said, proudly.
Big John said, “Hell’s bells, man. Back in Texas I can get up when the sun rises, saddle my horses and ride all day. When I get back at suppertime I’ll be lucky to cover half of my ranch.”
Mr. Samuels said, “I used to have a horse like that, too. I shot him.”
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