Jake glanced at Pete and nodded that the idea suited him, but then he immediately looked back at Tory, waiting for her approval. She said nothing, but instead turned and walked back to the front door and went inside. Hesitantly, like a trio of nervous adolescents, the three men followed.
In the kitchen, Tory produced a clean glass from a cabinet and a pitcher from the ice box. Filling the glass, she handed it to Jake, who thanked her and then raised the glass to his lips, draining it of its contents in a single draught. He handed the glass back to Tory, who asked if he wanted another. "That'd be real good," Jake said, still cautious about seeming to make himself too much at home. "I guess I'm pretty thirsty." Tory refilled his glass and handed it back to him, and he took another drink, less gluttonous than the first. "This sure is good," Jake said, and Pete and Py seemed grateful to hear that he was pleased. They each looked at Tory, each a little desperate in their encouragement to show some enthusiasm for having Jake back in the house again, but she ignored them.
Pete seemed suddenly to realize that what was needed was a quick return to normalcy. "I tell you what, I'll go check the tank, just to make sure it's ready for you," he said. "Py, why don't you get on with what you were doin', and we'll let Jake have a little time to get himself re-situated. How's that sound?"
Py seemed a little reluctant to end the reunion festivities so quickly, but he gave in, slapping Jake on the shoulder and telling him it was good to have him back. Then he went on out the back door, his enthusiasm renewed for the mundane tasks ahead.
Pete smiled politely at Jake and Tory and then he, too, left by the back door, heading out around the back of the house to check the suspended tank, leaving the two lovers alone.
Standing in the kitchen, just the two of them, Jake made the first move at fence mending. "It's good bein' back," he said, careful about speaking too boldly.
Tory seemed to start to say something, then she turned her back on him and went to stand in front of the kitchen sink, where she started to busy herself with what dishes were still soaking there, waiting to be washed.
Jake stood for a moment, watching her, uncertain what to do. Then he said, "I guess I'll go out and get cleaned up," to which Tory offered no response. Jake waited for an awkward moment and then started toward the back door, but then he stopped. He turned and looked back at Tory, who put down the dish she was washing and turned to look at him. "Are you back for good?" she asked.
Jake dropped his coat and case to the floor and rushed to her side, grabbing her up in his arms, lifting her off the floor, embracing her with a passionate kiss, to which she responded fully. "I'm back for good," he said, pulling her to him tightly.
Watching through the screen on the back door, careful not to be seen, Pete grinned and punched at the air, silently celebrating their coupling. Then he turned around and looked at Py, who was standing out in the yard, watching him spy and wondering what it was he was seeing. Pete grinned and gave Py the thumbs up, and then Py jumped in the air and shouted – "Yahoo!"
Inside, Jake and Tory heard the shout, but they didn't care. They stayed locked in their long embrace and kiss.
CHAPTER 37 – Coming Clean
The afternoon passed quickly, as the Parker Ranch cowboys did their best to get life back to normal by pretending that nothing strange had happened. Something strange had happened, though – something so strange that it had knocked the lingering despair over their financial prospects right into the emotional hinterlands. All that seemed important now was that the "family" was back together, after a recess.
Jake had disappeared, for a time, into his little bunkhouse, then after a while he reappeared, naked, but for a towel he had wrapped around his waist. Pete and Py each went about their work around the barn, occasionally casting furtive glances over toward the house, just to see how things were progressing. They saw Jake disappear around the back, where the dowsing tank was located, then after a while he reappeared, soaking wet, his water-logged towel tied tightly back around him. Tory had come to the back screen door as he made his return trip across the yard, heading for his bunk, and they had exchanged friendly words, though both Pete and Py were too far away to hear exactly what was said. They were mostly watching for attitude, and what they noticed of that had seemed fine. Jake was still on his best behavior. Tory seemed to be enjoying his contriteness and remained mildly aloof just to work it as long as she could. She seemed sweet about it, though, so Pete stopped worrying about a lasting rift. He hadn't lived sixty-plus years not to be able to recognize a mating dance when he saw one. He figured that if Jake was comfortable enough to parade around semi-nude, everything was going to be fine between them. He knew Jake wouldn't have felt that comfortable if Tory weren't making it possible.
After his shower, Jake went into his bunkhouse and didn't come back out for some time. Pete found an excuse to mosey past, just to see what Jake was doing in there, and he found him asleep on his bed, apparently having passed out the moment he returned from the spa. He lay flat on his back, stark naked but for a cover he had pulled over his privates. Apparently he was exhausted from his long trek and was literally as tired as he looked. Pete didn't give a thought to rousting him. He had never known Jake to sleep in the daytime, and figured this nap was probably involuntary.
That evening Jake showed up at the dinner table and apologized to everyone for not doing his part with the afternoon chores, and sleeping instead. Pete told him it didn't matter, that he must've needed the rest, and nobody cared that he had taken the day off. They were all still contented with the feeling that the planets were back in their orbits, and life was going to continue, much as it had before.
Dinner conversation was easy and unimportant. Py was especially cheery and talked at length about a variety of dull subjects, chief among them being his hopes for the yearling herd, and his sighting today of the elusive black tom. Pete offered some conversation regarding the cattle, but mostly he let Py hold forth. He satisfied himself, for the most part, watching the subtle exchanges between Jake and Tory. He watched the way Tory handed Jake the bowl of mashed potatoes and the shelled peas, and the way he took them, as if somehow the transfer was grounded in ancient, primal ritual, with every movement a tribute to some long ago agreement, made between a man and a woman that even now was binding. Tory was still exercising her woman's right to indecision. She was bewitching, providing for Jake, then retreating into herself, inviting him with her eyes, and then ignoring him. Pete watched her with a kind of pride that he had never allowed himself before: the pride of a father for his accomplished daughter, a fully blossomed womanhood who had once been his little girl, but now transcended those limitations. Pete looked at her with loving eyes, genuinely respectful of her dignity, which honored them both.
Looking at Jake, Tory was herself under an influence of sorts. It was the influence of beauty. The rest had done him well. Now, clean shaven and hair combed back in the manner of a gentleman, he looked uncommonly handsome to her, though she had always thought him to be a good-looking man. He wore his age well – well enough that high school girls noticed him, and more, she thought – with his nicely chiseled nose and square-blocked jaw. His eyes still sparkled with a youthful energy, and somehow it blended seductively with the deep wrinkles that bordered them and gave them a distinctive strength. There was an element of country about him that made it impossible to imagine that he could ever be completely at ease in a business uniform. Jake was work clothes suited. He was sun and wind and raw winter weather. The elements had burned a permanent glow into his complexion that only added to his power. All sense of naiveté and innocence had been burned from him, and yet it only added wattage to his kind smile. Tory fought to keep it from showing, but this night she thought Jake looked as good as any man she had ever seen.
Even as the quartet feted themselves on the nourishment of reunion, a dark cloud of mystery overlay the proceedings. There were questions about what had happened, why Jake had gotten cold feet and disappeared, and why he was n
ow back, trying to earn their forgiveness. When dinner was done, he wasted no time in providing them with answers.
"There's somethin' I need to talk to you all about," Jake said, pushing his chair back away from the table. Tory glanced nervously at him, then got up from the table and began clearing dishes, walking them in small loads over to the sink, for washing. Pete watched her, looking for clues as to what Jake might be about to say, wondering if he had secretly shared something with her earlier in the day. Py, too, appeared nervous.
"I know you're wonderin' why I left yesterday." Jake spoke in slow, measured tones, that bespoke his humility over what had transpired. "Py knows a little bit about it. Tory saw me leavin' on the bus . . ."
Pete glanced at Py, noticing his discomfort, and for some reason he thought of the conversation he'd had with Jake several weeks ago, when Jake alluded to troubles in his past. He wondered how Py would react, should Jake say something that would challenge his idolatry.
Jake continued – "I've got some things I need to tell you about. It's somethin' that keeps comin' up out of my past and just keeps doggin' me, and I can't get away from it. It scared me so bad yesterday I run off. I ain't proud of myself and I want you to know that I'm sorry."
Py sat stiff as a board, only his eyes moving, as he looked from Jake to Pete to Tory, wishing all this wasn't happening, that somehow someone would say something to snap him out of this awful dream. He wanted everything to be back to normal, the way things had been.
"Py – I feel especially bad about the way I treated you," Jake said, looking him in the eyes. "I had no call, and I apologize."
Py just blinked as he looked back at Jake, unable to coalesce a coherent response. Jake looked down at the floor for a moment, apparently gathering his strength, then he looked up and said, flatly – "Maybe Py told you, there was a man here the other day – just a couple days before Cooksin was shot."
Tory, standing near the kitchen sink, turned around and looked at Jake, tension drawn across her face. "Py told me he threatened you with a gun, Jake. He said he shot at you."
Pete's draw dropped. "What?" he asked. "What's this about?"
"I think it was the fella responsible for shootin' your animal, Pete," Jake said sorrowfully. "I think he did it to scare me, and it worked pretty good."
"Who is this guy?" Pete asked.
"A guy who works for some people I know – people who I've worked for myself," Jake said.
Pete glanced at Py, now having some idea about what Jake had to say. He recalled a previous conversation. "Who are these people, Jake?" Pete asked, inviting the truth.
"Criminals," Jake said factually.
Py's eyes widened at the word – one he had long heard associated with Jake, but which he had not wanted to comprehend.
"What do they want with you?" Tory asked.
Jake looked up at Tory and then slowly got up out of his chair and moved across the room, leaning against the far wall. He pushed his fingers into his two front jean pockets and slumped. "I can't come up with no other way to say this. I been thinkin' about it all night and all day, and the best I can think to do is just tell you the truth and . . . and let the cards fall where they will." Jake pulled his hands from his pockets and cupped his face, then smoothed his hair back over his head. He looked miserable, as if this were the worst moment of his life. He began – "I come here to work for Frank Walker because I'm involved with a bunch of people who plan to rob him – him and bunch of other people around here."
Pete seemed jolted by the admission. He had believed Jake when he told him that his associations with "bad people," as he called them, were in the past. But Jake had lied. Pete instinctively looked toward Tory to see that his daughter was okay. She seemed to go pale and to fall back against the counter around the sink, crossing her arms up before her. Py immediately looked down, so as not to make eye contact with anyone. His head began to spin and he felt nauseous.
"I'm in debt to a man," Jake said. "It's probably better if you don't know his name. He bailed me out of some trouble I got into . . . God, how long? . . . five or six years ago. He targets rich guys, like Walker, and it's been my job to get employed by them and work up plans to take whatever they got: trucks, tractors, farm implements, money . . . anything, even beef. I've done one of these each year since just after the war ended. Frank Walker's was supposed to be my last job, then I'd be free and clear. At least that's what I was told."
Py looked up. "Is that why Walker fired you? Because he found out?" he asked.
Jake shook his head. "No, that wasn't it," Jake said. "Frank still don't know nothin' about it." Jake looked over at Tory. "Somehow I screwed it all up. I started to get attached to people – which never happened before – and things snow-balled from there." He shook his head in self-disgust. "I think I must be gettin' old or somethin'."
Tory turned away from him, bending forward over the sink, her arms still crossed before her.
"Well where's all this goin'?" Pete asked. "What's supposed to happen now?" "Next Saturday night I'm supposed to go get things from Walker Ranch. There's money, jewelry, silver, guns, riding tack – all kinds of stuff." Jake reported his mission with strange detachment, as if he had gone over it in his mind so often that the list repeated in his dreams. "There's a truck there that we're supposed to drive away."
"We are?" Tory asked.
"The guy you’ve seen around here in the red pickup. That's the guy Py saw here the other day," Jake said.
"With the gun?" Tory asked, and Jake nodded affirmatively.
"I don't like this a bit," Pete said. "Are you meeting this guy there, or . . ." "He's picking me up," Jake said. "We do the job and then he drives the truck off to a distribution center. I take his pickup, make one other stop . . ." "Where?" Tory asked.
"The Wilkerson farm," Jake said. "Same thing – cash, jewelry. Then I meet the guy at the distribution place, drop off the stuff, and he drops me off back here."
Tory looked sick. "And then?" she asked.
"Then its over," Jake said. "Then my debts are paid and . . . then it's over and we just go on." His voice sounded doubtful.
"There must be a way out of this," Pete said. "Do you trust these people to do you like they say?"
Jake shook his head – "No, I don't. I been tryin' every way I can think to get out of it. That trip to Denver a few weeks back? I met with the boss of this whole thing and told him I wanted out, but he's got a lot in it. The guy in the red pickup – he was sent to keep an eye on me, to make sure I go through with it."
"Go to the police," Tory said forcefully. "Tell them everything before it's too late."
"It ain't that easy!" Jake said. "They've been makin' threats – against everybody! It'd put everybody in danger. These are bad people, Tory. Shootin' that bull – that was just a hint, a little reminder."
"You can't go through with it, whatever the case," Pete said. "You said it yourself. You can't rob people, knowin' 'em like you do. How could you live with them after that?"
"That's assuming you're planning on staying around here," Tory said, suspicious.
"Well, how could you live with yourself, for that matter?" Pete asked, skirting the issue. "What if you got caught?"
"What do you plan to do, Jake?" Tory asked, still stuck on Jake's long-term plan.
Jake rubbed his forehead, trying to formulate an answer, as Py sat at the table, looking stricken. It seemed hopeless to Py, like there was no way any of them could win. There wasn't going to be any return to normalcy. It had always been just an illusion he could see that now – and it frightened him to look honestly at what the future held.
"I'm worried for you, Jake," Pete said. "I don't mean to scare anybody . . ." He glanced around at Tory and Py. ". . . but I don't like the notion of you goin' off with this guy. We know he's got a gun and he'll use it. I'm scared that soon you'll be of no value to these people, but you'll be dangerous to them. I'm scared for you, Jake. I don't think you got any choice but to go to the law."
"Ben Miller – go talk to him, Jake," Tory said sternly.
"She's right," Pete said. "Ben Miller's a good man, and he likes you. He'll help you out." He watched Jake agonize over his situation, squeezing his forehead as if there were devils playing there that he could almost pressure out. "I'd also advise that you bring Frank Walker in on this. It'd be a good place to start mendin' fence."
"Please, Jake," Tory said. "Dad's right."
Jake bit his bottom lip and shook head. "I know," he said. "I know."
* * * * *
"Py! Come here, Py! I want to talk to you!"
Py had bolted from the kitchen as soon as it was agreed that Jake would go confess everything to the Sheriff. He ran out into the yard and the black of night, with Jake chasing after him, trying to catch up.
"Come on, Py – stop and let me talk to you," Jake said.
Py charged out through the fence gate, slamming it shut behind him, and then went off across the equipment yard, headed for the place where the pickup sat parked. He reached it, yanked open the door, and then crawled in behind the steering wheel.
Jake grabbed the door before Py could close it, shutting himself inside. "Damn it, Py, hold on a second! I want to talk to you!" Jake said.
"You already told me everything I need to hear!" Py said.
"Shit, Py! Give me a chance! Let me explain a few things," Jake said.
Py put both hands on the wheel, as if grabbing on to something for support, and he stared resolutely out the windshield at the dark surrounding countryside. "What are you gonna explain – yourself?"
Jake looked disgusted. "You mean justify, don't you? I won't try to do that.
Before you go gettin' all judgmental and disappointed, though, I do want to explain a few things about life." Py gave him a sidelong glance, as if he found the conceit unearned. "I don't want you gettin' hard over this, that's how it starts. You get your head up about something, then you get let down, and after that you don't get head up about nothin' any more. I know, Py! That's how it was with me! I don't want you doin' that, now."
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