" Florida. You know old Florida...."
"No sir," the bartender said, "I do not." He studied Train a moment longer, then escorted him the rest of the way out of the lounge.
Train waited until he was back outside to tell the bartender that he was supposed to call the ambulance. He could see the ladies had to be protected from the sight of himself.
"This ain't the place to come for no caddy pitched onto the green," the bartender said.
"It's where the man told me to come," Train said.
"The man playing golf, said to tell Richard to call somebody right away" He was surprised at how easily the lie came out of his mouth. His mother was ordinarily pleased to tell anyone who would listen that Lionel was the only child born with the male organ in the Walk family history that wasn't an accomplished liar by the time he was three years old. She said the rest of them, it was the reason they learned to talk. He didn't know if that was true—if there was any Walk family men around, he hadn't met them—but it was correct that he couldn't bring himself to tell stories. He didn't have the looseness about him for that.
"This man say who am I supposed to call?" The bartender noticed Train's toe then, and took a step back. Train looked at it too, and it occurred to him for the first time that he come to the wrong place. That when the man said the clubhouse, he meant the pro shop.
"Just like it was a member," he said, "that's what the man said to do." Half a dozen of them had died out on the course in the two years Train been working here, maybe one or two more. The old-timers would talk about it for a month, until every one of them had said the same tiling to each other, proud that another soldier died in his two-color shoes. In some way it wasn't unrelated to having the most trees of any golf course in Los Angeles County.
The bartender used one finger and reached carefully through his hair and scratched a spot on his scalp, trying to figure out if calling an ambulance for a caddy could get him in trouble. He took a comb out of his back pocket and went over the spot, still thinking. "You go on back there," he said, "tell them Richard took care of everything." Train nodded, but he didn't move. "I'll take care of it," the bartender said, impatient to get Train away from the clubhouse.