Picking Up the Pieces

by Carolina Mac

  I was too tired and too stressed to even think about the stupid cattle charts at four o’clock in the morning.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Saturday, April 18th.

  Preston Hospital.

  I sat in the emergency waiting room for two hours while the doctors and nurses worked on Clay’s arm. Bonnie Sue had been taken to surgery as soon as the ambulance arrived at the hospital and as far as I knew, she was still in the operating room.

  Jack came in with two large cups of coffee from Dunkin Donuts and I was grateful. “Anything yet?”

  “He should be finished soon, I hope. No news on Bonnie Sue.”

  “Doc Lonnigan helped me get Presto out of the truck and I put him in the box stall. We fed him and gave him extra hay. He’s fine until we get home.”

  “Good, I was worried they hadn’t been feeding him, but I think Doyle would have fed him. He seems like a nice guy caught up in a bad situation.”

  “That bad situation being Harper.”

  “And we have another whole set of problems at the ranch.”

  “Tell me about it,” said Jack.

  I was sipping on my coffee when a young doctor in green scrubs hurried into the waiting room looking for us. “Y’all here for Clay McKenna?”

  “We’re his brothers,” I said.

  “Uh huh. He’s okay. Lost a fair amount of blood on the table while we were getting the shot out. Y’all can see him for one minute, then I’m sending him upstairs to the ICU to rest.”

  “He can’t go home?”

  “Not right now. We want to watch him.”

  We followed the doctor into the little room where Clay was lying on the stretcher hooked up to an IV. His left arm bandaged from shoulder to elbow.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m okay. Kind of doped up and I want to sleep.”

  “We’ll come back after lunch tomorrow and see how you’re doing.”

  “Okay. Ask about Bonnie Sue. They won’t tell me anything.”

  “Yep, I’ll do it.”

  We stayed with Clay until an orderly came and took him upstairs. On the way out I inquired about Bonnie Sue and got the same answer. “She’s not out of surgery, dear. There’s nothing I can tell you yet.”

  McKenna Ranch.

  AT breakfast, with almost no sleep, Jacky was beat, and I was no better. The three of us had a hell day yesterday and a worse night—especially for Clay. But there was more crap to be cleaned up and we had to get to it.

  I poured us each a mug of coffee and sat down with Jack. “We have to have a meeting this morning with Laney and Kate. I’m betting they knew all along what was going on and they might have been part of it. They were dishonest and we can’t trust them. End result—Clay got shot because of them. I want them gone.”

  Jack nodded. “I was shocked when I saw Harper at Doyle’s place. Couldn’t believe it.”

  “Makes you wonder if those girls came here for jobs on their own or if somebody sent them here and they already had an agenda. They can’t work here anymore.”

  “Damned right they can’t, Logy. Those bitches got us into huge trouble and now Clay is shot.”

  “We’re in agreement then?” I asked. “The girls have to go. We’ll have to replace them.”

  “Yep, they have to go,” said Jack.

  “Want to eat breakfast first?” I asked.

  “Uh huh. Breakfast and more coffee then we’ll fire them.”

  I felt sorry for Jacky, he looked so beat.

  KATE and Laney were in the bunkhouse cleaning up after their own breakfast when we walked in to talk to them.

  “You want something, boss?” Kate’s voice was flat as she gave me an unfriendly stare. “I noticed you didn’t knock on the door, so you must be pissed about something.”

  “Sad, but true.” I didn’t beat around the bush, just came out with it. “I’m afraid we have to let you girls go. You’re not suitable to work here any longer.”

  Kate spun around and stood with her hands on her hips, defiance in her eyes. “And why would that be?”

  “Because y’all knew about Presto all along, and where he was and who took him, and y’all never helped us.” I pointed at myself and Jacky. “We’re the ones paying you and you showed us no loyalty whatsoever. Pack your belongings and leave this morning.”

  “We didn’t know,” said Kate. “Harper knew but she didn’t tell us. Not at first.”

  I wanted to believe her, but it made no difference.

  “Don’t matter when you found out,” I said. “That was the minute you should have come to me and you didn’t. Now Harper’s gone and got all of you into a whole mess of trouble. She shot Bonnie Sue and she shot Clay. If y’all hadn’t been liars that never would have happened.”

  “She wouldn’t shoot Clay,” said Kate. “Harper’s crazy for Clay.”

  “Tell that to Clay. He’s in the hospital in intensive care and so is Bonnie Sue. Harper’s in Jail along with Doyle Hutton, Carson Wagoner and Paul Silverstone.”

  “Any more you want to add to that list?” asked Jack. “You two should be in there with them.”

  “No, we shouldn’t,” hollered Kate. “Laney and I aren’t thieves.”

  “Your sister sure is.” I pointed at Kate. “I’ll get your checks ready while you pack up. I want you off the ranch and out of our lives.”

  Mad as hell, mostly at myself for being taken in by good-looking women, I stomped back to the office and figured out what we owed Laney and Kate. I wrote the checks, put them in envelopes and waited on the porch with Jacky and the dogs until the girls loaded their gear into the pickup.

  I stood at the side of the truck and handed them their severance. “Here you go. I’m disappointed in y’all. I figured y’all for better people than that.”

  They grabbed their pay and hopped into the truck without a word. Kate turned the pickup around and raised some dust as she drove through the gate.

  “Guess we better get to work, Jacky,” I said. “All the work is on us for now.”

  “I’ll put a rope on Presto and walk him back to the pasture field,” said Jack. “Soon as we finish chores, I need a nap.”

  “Yep, we’ll finish the work and sleep until it’s time to go get Clay.”

  Jack smiled. “I’m with you, Logy.”

  I woke up groggy when my cell rang right beside my head. “What time is it?” I fumbled around, found the phone on the nightstand and glanced at the time—ten after twelve.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s Fiona, Logan. You sound tired. Did I wake you?”

  “It’s fine. I need to get up.”

  “How’s Clay? I texted you but I didn’t get an answer. I’m sure you didn’t get much sleep.”

  “We didn’t get home until this morning, then we had chores. We’re grabbing a couple of hours before we go back to the hospital.”

  “Let’s leave the charts until tomorrow.”

  “I think that would be best. I can’t see having any time for them today, Fiona.”

  “Any word on Bonnie Sue?”

  “None when we left the hospital. She was still in surgery.”

  “I was wondering if y’all are still employing Harper’s sisters.”

  “Kate is her sister and Laney is her cousin, but we let them go this morning. I don’t know how much they knew, but it was too much to suit me. They showed no loyalty to us and Clay got shot because of them.”

  “True. It’s best they move on.”

  “That’s what we thought.”

  “I’ll call later and check on Clay.”

  “Thanks, Fiona.”

  Preston Hospital.

  ON the way to the hospital, Jacky drove Doyle Hutton’s truck and I followed behind. We left the big cattle truck parked next to Doyle’s barn with the keys tucked over the visor.

  The dogs were whining, and I checked their water bowls and filled them up. Jacky watched me and said, “If Doyle ain’t getting out today, somebody will have to feed these do
gs.”

  “We should stop into the sheriff’s office while we’re in Preston and see what’s going on. Sheriff Tucker might have his hands full without Bonnie Sue.”

  Jacky grinned. “Don’t think the old fart has ever had so much action at one time.”

  As I drove along the main street in Preston, my eyes wandered to a beautiful looking girl jogging down the street. Snug blue jeans and a Navajo patterned top. She went into the hair salon and I lost sight of her.

  “Was that Linda Loudon?” asked Jack.

  In a bit of a fog, I nodded my head. “I think it was. Haven’t seen her in… a long time.”

  “She don’t live in Preston, does she?” asked Jacky.

  “Nope. About ten miles north up the highway.”

  I turned into the hospital parking lot and tried to get Linda out of my head. “Don’t want to think about her,” I said. “Not good for me.”

  “Think about Fiona instead,” said Jack. “She likes you.”

  “She’s nice n’all, but I don’t think there are any sparks there. At least not on my part.”

  “Don’t let women bring you down,” said Jacky. “That’s my theory.”

  “Good one. I’ll try to remember it. Let’s go see if Clay can come home.”

  The doctor was with Clay in his room when we arrived, giving him a final checkup. When he finished, Clay was released with orders to rest for a week. His arm was bandaged and secured in a sling and he wasn’t to move it.

  We picked up his prescriptions at the nurses’ station and walked alongside the wheelchair as a young nurse named Eva, wheeled Clay to the front entrance. With a couple of grunts and groans and some cursing, we got him into the shotgun seat of the truck and piled in ourselves.

  “I need to drink a pitcher,” said Clay. “Getting shot ain’t fun and it hurts like hell.”

  “We can stop in at the Spur. Miss Jane will want to see you with her own two eyes anyway to make sure you’re still breathing.”

  “I asked the nurses about Bonnie Sue,” said Clay, “and she ain’t doing so hot. She’s in intensive care. Her Mom came in to see me for a minute.”

  “Did she? That was nice.”

  “Can’t believe Harper shot us,” said Clay. “Can’t get my head around it.”

  “We better stop into the sheriff’s office while we’re here in Preston,” I said. “Sheriff Tucker will need your statement. Save him driving out to our ranch.”

  “Yeah, I might as well get it over with,” said Clay. “I’m pissed I won’t be able to play my guitar for a few weeks. I should sue Harper.”

  Jacky chuckled. “You should.”

  “Hope they lock her up for a long time,” I said. “Besides shooting you, she tried to kill a deputy sheriff. That should be good for a few years at least.”

  “Maybe there’ll be a trial,” said Clay, “and I can testify against her.” Clay tried to smile. “Nothing would suit me better.”

  “Could be a trial coming up and that would attract a huge crowd. Not many trials in Preston.”

  Sheriff’s Office. Preston.

  SHERIFF Tucker was in a foul mood when we got to his office. His phone was ringing non-stop and Ivan, his one part-time deputy seemed to be floundering around, not knowing what to do next.

  Bonnie Sue was the work horse in the sheriff’s office and with her out of commission in the hospital, the place was falling apart. The sheriff needed to call for reinforcements, if he had any to call.

  I tapped twice on his open door and said, “We just picked Clay up from the hospital, Sheriff Tucker. Do you want his statement before we take him home?”

  He glanced up, still on the phone, and pointed to the chairs in front of his desk. We sat and waited while he yelled at somebody then ended the call cursing.

  “How you doing, Clay?” asked the sheriff. “Nasty business. I’ve got temporary help coming from the next county.”

  “Speaking of the next county,” I ventured, “have they identified the body that turned up in the river?”

  “Yep, and it ain’t Buster,” said Sheriff Tucker. “I had them notify me as soon as they knew who it was. A drifter from out Odessa way.”

  “Mrs. Tate is upset,” said Jack, “and she’s stranded out at her place without Buster.”

  “I filed an official missing person’s report on him,” said the sheriff. “Not much else I can do to find him without a lead.”

  Clay gave the sheriff his version of what went down at Doyle Hutton’s place and the sheriff seemed satisfied with his story.

  “Doyle was the last person seen with Buster Tate,” I said, “maybe he can shed some light on where Buster went after he helped Doyle steal our bull.”

  “Maybe so, Logan. Why don’t you go out back to the lockup and ask him?”

  “You saying I can talk to the prisoners?”

  “Only if you tell me if you get anything useful out of them. I can’t question them until later, I’ve got too much to do.”

  “Clay, why don’t you wait in the truck,” I said. “You look tired and pale.”

  “I want to hear what Doyle says,” said Clay, “and I’ve got a few things to say to Harper.”

  We found the lockup at the back of the building. Six cells, three on each side of a short run. Since there was no overcrowding in the Preston jail, each of the prisoners had their own accommodation.

  Paul Silverstone was in the first cell on the right as we went through the door. He was slumped down on his bunk with his head in his hands. He glanced up when the door opened, saw who it was and turned his back on us.

  Next to him was Doyle Hutton, lying on his back on his bunk reading a magazine. He didn’t turn his head and didn’t look our way until I stood in front of his cell and called to him, “Doyle, can I talk to you a minute about Buster Tate?”

  Doyle swiveled around and sat on the edge of the bunk. “What about him?”

  “Where did he go after he helped you unload Presto?”

  “We went to the Spur, drank a pitcher and I left him there with Micky.”

  “Micky Swain?”

  Doyle nodded.

  “Buster knew Micky?”

  Doyle shrugged. “No idea if he knew him before.”

  “Before y’all stole Presto?”

  Doyle nodded.

  Carson Wagoner was in the cell directly across from Doyle Hutton. She was sitting on her bunk reading a book and she wasn’t running her mouth like she usually did.

  Clay wandered down to the last cell and was talking in a low voice to Harper. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but his face was flushed.

  “Come on, Clay. Let’s get out of here.”

  By the time we got to the truck, Clay was breathless.

  “Take it easy. We’ll get some food at the Spur and you’ll feel better.”

  “I told Harper I couldn’t wait to testify against her at her trial and she spit at me. She’s a nasty piece of work, Logy. It bothers me to think that at one point a few days ago, I was liking her quite a bit.”

  “Uh huh. We all get sucked in from time to time.”

  “Interesting what Doyle said about Buster,” said Jacky. “Leaving him at the Spur with Micky Swain.”

  “Yep. We need to take another drive up to Micky Swain’s trailer. He’s in this up to his neck.”

  “You think Carson and Swain came up with the idea?” asked Jack.

  “Maybe. I don’t know who’s bright idea it was in the beginning, but it sure got out of hand and resulted in Bonnie Sue and Clay getting shot and us running ragged looking for poor old Presto.”

  “And what did they get out of it?” asked Jack. “Nothin but trouble and a jail cell.”

  Broken Spur Roadhouse.

  MISS JANE broke down and sobbed when she saw Clay with his arm in a sling. “Oh, my poor baby. Look what that awful woman did to you. And look how pale your face is.” She dabbed at her eyes with a napkin. “Ricki, get these boys a table and a pitcher of Lone Star and bring Clay a shot of w
hiskey. He looks faint.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Ricki was off and running. Miss Jane kept her hopping.

  “I’ll get y’all some food, then I want to hear all about your misadventure.”

  After we finished our pitcher of beer and juicy steak sandwiches on the house, I asked Miss Jane if she remembered seeing Buster Tate with Micky Swain the night Presto was stolen.

  “I don’t know who Micky Swain is, sweetheart, but Hank might. He’s better on remembering names than I am.”

  “I’ll ask him. According to Doyle Hutton, Micky Swain was the last person to see Buster Tate.”

  “Oh my,” said Miss Jane. “I bet his mama is crying her eyes out. How’s she getting on out there by herself?”

  “We’ve been stopping by and taking her some groceries,” said Jack. “We need to go again soon and check on her. She’s in a bad way missing Buster.”

  “The poor thing.” Miss Jane made a face. “I’d drive out there myself, but I’m not fond of goats.”

  On our way out, I stopped at the bar and asked Hank about Micky Swain and Buster.

  “I do know who he is,” said Hank with a bit of a sneer. “Ex-con from up near Lubbock, ain’t he?”

  I nodded. “He lives in a trailer up the highway a piece.”

  Hank closed his eyes like he was thinking hard on it. “I do remember seeing Buster with Doyle Hutton and Swain and at the time I thought it was odd seeing the three of them together because Buster Tate don’t have many friends.”

  “Did you see them leave together that night?” I asked.

  “Can’t say that I noticed, Logan. Sorry.”

  “I’ll ask Ricki,” said Jack. “She might remember.”

  Before we left, Jack caught Ricki’s attention and asked her. She was always so busy waiting tables she barely had time to notice anything. I was surprised when she said she remembered Swain putting down money for the tab and giving her a tip.

  “I heard Micky say, ‘come on, Buster, I’ll give you a ride home.’”

  “But Buster never made it home,” I said. “Uh huh.”

  “Thanks, Ricki,” said Jack. “Good memory.”

  I winked at her and she smiled at me. “You coming back later, Logan?”