"That'll be fourteen dollars and thirty seven cents." Jake was relieved when the grocer read aloud his bill, at least momentarily diverting attention away from Lily's interrogation. Jake dug into this jeans pocket and pulled out enough change to pay what he owed. "You mind if I leave this stuff on the front sill. I'll have to go get my truck, then come back and pick it up."
"That'd be fine," said Evans. "Just sit it over there in the corner. Nobody'll bother it."
"Thanks," Jake said, taking the receipt and putting his change back in his pants pocket. He then looked at Lily and said, "It's been good talkin' to you, kid, but I've got some other errands to run. And besides, aren't they gonna be wondering up at school where you've gotten off to?"
Lily glanced at the clock on the wall, but she wasn't about to let Jake off the hook. "Wait a second and I'll walk out with you." Again, more heads turned to watch as Lily escorted Jake over to the front window, where he deposited his grocery box for later pickup, and then followed him out the front door and onto the sidewalk outside.
"I know you just don't want to answer the question. That's it, isn't it?" said Lily.
Jake stood outside the grocery for a moment, pulling his hat down tight upon his head, looking both ways up and down Main Street.
"She's pretty, you know," said Lily, sounding a little self-pitying. "I know she is, I've seen her up close. And she isn't that old..."
"Look, sweetheart," Jake finally said. "I don't know what you want me to say. I do live on Pete Parker's ranch, and I am working there. And he does have a daughter named Tory, and she is pretty and she and I have become real good friends. Now that's about as much as there is to say about it."
Lily looked crest-fallen. "So what about us, Jake?"
Jake seemed taken aback. "Lily, I thought we had this all worked out."
She seemed as if she might start to cry. "I thought we did, too. But then I didn’t know you were going to go live out on some ranch, with a woman..."
"Calm down, now." Jake took a fresh handkerchief out of his back pocket and handed it to Lily so she could dab back the tears – a move roundly noticed by those in the IGA, who watched the scene taking place on the sidewalk outside through the huge glass windows that fronted Harold Evan's store. "Remember how I told you that it's important that you do all your school activities, and enjoy your senior year?"
"Uh-huh..." said Lily, wiping her eyes.
"Remember how we said that you needed to be able to go out with your friends? And, you know, date boys your own age? Or at least boys you could take to events, like the Homecoming dance. Remember that?" Jake asked.
"I don't ever get to see you anymore," said Lily, not fully composed. "It seems like since you aren't working for my dad anymore that I never get a chance to see you."
Jake shook his head. "That's how it's got to be, darlin'. You know how your daddy feels about me. Didn't you just get through tellin' me how upset he was just last night?"
"Uh-huh," Lily said. "Well, see..."
"But it's like you aren't even a part of my life!" Lily said, intoning her words with that fear of loneliness reserved for young girls, unmindful of the time and opportunities ahead.
"No, honey, it's not that way," Jake said. "I think the world of you and you know that…”
"Do you love me?" Lily asked.
"Sure I do, sweetheart. Sure I do," Jake said. "But let's just not lose our heads over things. There's a certain way to handle it, you know what I mean? You have to be strong, now, and careful about the things you say. Even the things you feel."
Lily handed Jake back his handkerchief. "I think I got some makeup on it," she said, apologetically.
"That's okay," Jake said, taking it and putting it back in his jean pocket. "Now you just go on about your business and get yourself back to school, before old
Mrs.....what's her name?"
"Mrs. Kinsley," Lily said.
"...before Mrs. Kinsley writes you up on some report." He pinched her chin and moved her head around a little, jocularly indicating her approval, even if it wasn't his to give. "It's been good talking to you. You take care of yourself and I'll look forward to talking with you again soon."
Lily appeared to want to utter a protest, but she held back as Jake doffed his hat and then turned and walked away from her up the sidewalk.
Then she hollered out to him. "Did you ever go back and get that teacher, the one whose ass you were going to kick?" An old man walking on the other side of the street heard the question and glanced to see who she was talking to.
Jake kept walking, but turned back, grinning. "No," he said.
Lily watched after him a moment, watching the way he moved, then turned and looked at the faces who watched her through the store front window of the IGA. Bravely she girded herself and walked right back into the store among them.
* * * * *
"She's a pretty young thing, isn't she?"
Jake had walked less than half a block when he heard a voice speaking to him.
He turned to see that it was coming from a man in a faded-red pickup, which he immediately recognized as the mysterious truck that had stopped on the county road outside Parker Ranch the previous day, when Frank Walker had come to visit. Jake turned and stood for a moment, looking at the man: dark complexion, wearing a fedora and a leather jacket, sitting on the passenger side of the truck. He had a heavy, day-old beard that set-off the whites of his narrow eyes and made his look sinister, like a feral animal of some kind.
"You talkin' to me?" Jake asked the man.
"I was talkin' to myself," the man said. "I guess you must just agree with me."
Jake continued to stare, knocked off guard a little by the attitude he heard in the voice. This guy was sure of himself, whoever he was.
Jake walked over toward the pickup. "Should I know you?" he asked.
The man grinned slightly, like a wise guy. "Should you? I wouldn't go that far, but 'will you?' is a different question."
"What's the answer?" Jake asked.
"The answer to that one would be – yes." He grinned bigger now, but it betrayed an underlying meanness. Jake noticed it but it didn't make him back off. At least now he knew what this guy was about. Jake hated a bully.
"I don't suppose you've been sent here by someone, maybe to check-up on what I've been doin '," Jake said, though he voiced his own answer.
The man mocked him. "You some kind of a celebrity?" he asked, feigning intrigue.
"You some kind of a hired gun?" Jake asked grimly.
The man stopped smiling. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said. "I never carry a weapon. Bad stuff happens when those things are around. I just don't want to take any chances."
Jake stared at him, unblinking. "I saw you out near Parker Ranch yesterday." "So what?" the man asked.
"We seem to be showing up at the same places," Jake said. "Now you're makin' cute remarks and I want to know why. You can start by telling me who you are."
The man looked impressed. "Well you really take charge of a conversation, don't you?" he said. "I don't usually like a pushy guy."
"Then answer my question. Who are you?"
"Let's just say I'm your conscience," the man said. "I'm the little guy who sits on your shoulder and makes sure you do the things you know you should – the things you have to do."
"And if I don't?" Jake asked.
The man shook his head, cowed by Jake's apparent ignorance of the facts. "You don't understand, Jake..." He stopped. "You mind if I call you Jake?" he asked.
"Get on with what you're saying," Jake said flatly.
"Oh, okay. What I was saying is, a lot of people are counting on you, Jake. You are like the American taxpayer, a part of a big chain, all working together to the benefit of a whole string of people. One little breakdown, one person fails to do his part. ..well, everybody gets disappointed. It's just like America. It all rests on the shoulders of guys just like you, my friend." The man gave Jake an appreciative look.
The man looked up at Jake's hand, hanging over his head like a hammer, but it didn't seem to concern him. "Well Jake, I think you'd have to admit that what you've done so far for...who was that?"
"You know damned well..."
"Well, it wasn't really much, now was it?" the man said. "Your information really isn't very good. Didn't you tell people that Frank Walker was going to be out of town all this week? Well that wasn't right, was it? Hell – I saw him out at your place just yesterday."
"That only proves my point," Jake said. "I don't work on Walker Ranch any longer. I don't have any way of knowing what Pico wants me to know."
"You’re just not trying hard enough," the man said. Jake leered at him. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, you got to be smart now, Jake-boy," he said. "That was pretty dumb, you losin' your job that way. You got to play it smarter now. You got to find new ways to get the information you need to be a success."
"You are not hearing me," said Jake. "I've told Pico that I can't be involved in this. It's dangerous for everybody involved. I'm too well known around here."
The man shook his head in disagreement. "You are the one who doesn't get it," he said. "You have no choice but to go through with it, Jake. As I understand it, you owe money – so much money." He shook his head. "Again, my friend, you are the classic case, mortgaged up to here." He used his hand to indicate the sweep of a knife blade across his throat. "You got to keep showing up on the job, man. How you gonna pay your bills?"
Jake said nothing, but just stared. He was having to fight the urge inside him to do physical harm to this guy.
"I tell you one way," said the man, feigning sincere advice. "That little girl there – the one you were just with. She knows what's going on at Walker Ranch. She could tell you what's going on with her daddy."
Jake tensed. "No – I'm not involving her." The man shrugged. "Too late," he said.
"What do you mean by that?"
He shook his head. "You've already involved her, my friend. A person can't come in touch with you and not get involved. It's like you got something on you that just comes right off when you get near. I just hope nothing goes wrong, I mean for her sake. It's like we were saying, she sure is a pretty young thing. Fresh as spring flowers."
Jake angrily grabbed the door to the pickup with both hands, and when he did the man slid over in the seat behind the steering wheel. He turned the ignition key and pressed the starter button, starting the engine. "You stay away from Lily Walker! Do you hear me?" Jake demanded. "She has got nothing to do with this! You stay away!"
The man shifted the transmission into reverse and started backing away from the curb, almost hitting a passing motorist. "You know what you got to do, Jake. Don't start messing up, you got people depending on you."
Jake held onto the door until the pickup was out in the traffic, then let go as the driver gave him an encouraging wink and then drove on down the street, leaving Jake standing to watch.
* * * * *
Py had no sooner been left alone at the feed store when the cowboys from Walker Ranch pulled up in the same old REO Speedwagon that Py had been driving the day Walt Vrbas was killed. There were seven of them – more than half of the hands Frank kept on regular – and four of those rode the open flatbed, defying the wind and dust like they were some kind of a float in a cowboy tribute parade. They had come to the Feed and Grain for the same supplies Py was after, though their order was more Walker than Parker sized. Still, Py's order meant a far sight more to him than theirs did to them. Only yesterday there had been no real Parker operation to supply, so just having a reason to show up at the Feed and Grain was a kind of a victory. Py, just for a moment, had felt a measure of self-esteem and for a fleeting instant swelled with an inner sense of peace, glimpsing ever so briefly at what it might feel like to win at something. But then...voices.
Jarvis Lang was in charge of the Walker crew, and Py became aware of his presence even before he had dismounted his truck to come inside the store. Jarvis was always loud and showing off.
"What in the hell do we have here?"
Jarvis started picking on Py the moment he saw him. He walked in, followed by his conspirators, most of whom were not much older than Jarvis himself, and he grinned wolfishly. Seeing his former lackey, he got immediately mean.
Py looked at Jarvis, thought to offer some kind of greeting, then stopped and diverted his eyes, looking down at the floor. He awkwardly turned his back to him.
Arky Dickerson, behind the counter, standing near the cash register, noticed the way Py shriveled when Jarvis walked through the door. He didn't find it surprising, because he dealt with the Walker Ranch crew all the time and he knew what they were about.
"I hear you're a top hand now, is that right?" Jarvis walked toward Py, challenging him with his grin, mocking him.
Py glanced up at him but looked quickly away. "Here's your receipt, son. You're all loaded up and ready to go." Arky handed Py his stub, glad to intervene on his behalf with something that might seem to back his legitimacy. Py took the paper and said, "Thanks." Then he turned around and tried to walk past Jarvis and his crew, who were now all in the store and standing like a rabble close to their leader.
Jarvis stepped in front of Py for a moment, blocking his path. "I'm just trying to be friendly," he said, still smiling, offering Py his chin. "You don't have to be so stuck up."
"Just let me by, please," Py said, but he didn't expect compliance so he walked on around Jarvis and the boys.
"Go ahead and place the order," Jarvis said to Dale Beebe, one of his hired hands.
Then he motioned for the others to follow him out the door after Py.
"I don't want any trouble here," said Arky, speaking up, futile, as all but one of the Walker crew filed out the door. He looked at Beebe and muttered something to the effect, "That guy had better not be messing with that kid," but Beebe wasn't really listening. He was concentrating on the list of items he'd been volunteered to commission, which was a little more responsibility than he was used to dealing with. For one thing, he could hardly read.
Py hadn't reached the pickup he and Jake had arrived in before he was surrounded by Jarvis and the others. "Where you goin' in such a hurry?" Jarvis asked. "Don't you want nothin' to do with your old friends?"
"You ain't no friends of mine," Py mumbled almost inaudibly.
Jarvis seemed to enjoy the report. "Well, I guess you got better'n us to hang out with anyway, isn't that right?" he said. "I hear you and that old thief Jake Jobbs are out at Pete Parker's place. Hell, I thought old Pete was in the bottle for good. What's he want with a criminal and a murderin' no count like yourself?"
Py tried to open the door to the pickup, but Jarvis pushed it back shut.
"Mr. Walker tells me you’re a big man out on Parker Ranch now, that you got yourself a herd and everything," Jarvis said. "He even says you got yourself a big old white bull. Is that right, Py? You got yourself a big old Charolais bull?"
"Yeah, Pete's got a Charolais," Py said, still unwilling to look Jarvis Lang in the eyes.
"Well what the hell is he gonna do with that?" Jarvis asked. "He ain't really gonna try to start ranchin' again, is he? Ain't he a little old for that? And a little drunk?"
At that, Py looked sharply at Jarvis, who thought for a moment that he had punched the right button, but then Py looked away again and tried to reopen the door to his pickup.
"Well, what's the answer?" Jarvis asked. "Is Pete Parker startin' up a herd, or isn't he?" He looked back at his boys. "I hear these Parker cattle are grain fed. If Pete ain
't filled with grain, they don't get fed."
Py suddenly turned and hit Jarvis on the chest with his two fists balled, hard enough to knock him back a bit. Jarvis grinned and started to crack wise when to his complete surprise Py let him have it, throwing a straight right to his nose and snapping his head back.
Jarvis staggered a little, eyes wide with disbelief, and he grabbed his nose. Then he smiled. "What the hell was that?" he asked. "You didn't hit me, did you?"
About that time a tall string bean named Melvin Tarr, one of Jarvis' crew, came toward Py. "Here, Jarvis, I'll hold him for you," he drawled, reaching out to grab Py by the arms, but before he could Py swung wildly and tagged him on the chin, knocking him to the ground.
"Whoa!" Jarvis said, grinning like the devil. "Py here can throw a punch, boys." Then he crouched himself into a fighting position and put his fists up before him. "Let's see how you do with somebody who's ready for you." He started moving in a circular pattern around Py.
Immediately the other cowboys formed themselves into a ring, with Jarvis and Py in the middle. "I don't want to fight you, Jarvis," said Py. "I got nothin' to fight you about. Now leave me alone and I'll get on out of here."
Jarvis shook his head. "Oh, that's the way you want it. You want to land all the shots, then just fold 'em and go home. But we can't let you do that. Hell, you knocked old Melvin there right on his butt..."
"He's got a pretty good punch, Jarvis," said Tarr, holding his chin and moving it to see if it was still hinged.
Py dropped his guard and repeated, "I don't want to fight you, Jarvis. I got no reason to."
"Well if all you need is a reason ..." Jarvis smashed a straight right hand into Py's face and the blow knocked him back into one of the cowboys, who caught him mid-fall and pushed him back toward Jarvis, who nailed him again.
Py fell in the dust, blood streaming from his nose. His whole face was numb and, inwardly, he'd been shocked to the center of a fast spinning world, but fearing that Jarvis might pummel him while he was down, he awkwardly staggered to his feet, hoping to seek the safety of the pickup.
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