Lulu Belle: George

The old man walked up and down the street a couple of times each day. And each day he looked more and more haggard and ragged.

It was obvious to Hutch that he was homeless and probably living out among the sage brush with the jack rabbits and coyotes. On what he figured to be the tenth day, Hutch took a cartoon of eggs, a short slab of bacon and the fixing to make biscuits out to the old man as he walked by.

“George Whitehouse,’ the old man called himself.

“Hutch Fitzgerald.”

“Thank you, Hutch,” the old man said as he headed back from wherever he’s come from.

Three days later, Hutch, enjoying a cup of coffee, saw him coming from up the street and quickly went inside his home and grabbed the small bag of groceries and some hand-me-down clothes he’d set aside for George. Again, the old man appeared thankful and for the next three summer months, Hutch continued to supply George with a few necessities.

It was late September when George failed to appear. At first, Hutch wasn’t concerned, thinking that perhaps the old man had returned to town, where the living might be easier as the coming cold months had begun to set in.

On the twelfth day of no George, curious to see where the old man had established his camp and thinking that maybe a little clean up might be in order, Hutch wandered out into the desert, a wide space on the map,  that separated two large area neighborhoods. It didn’t take him very long to find the well-tracked path leading to the homeless man’s secreted encampment.