Witness Rejection

by David R Lewis

  “Sweet Satin,” Crockett said. “Don’t you ever go home?”

  “I worked a double yesterday,” she said. “I usually leave after lunch rush. Know whatcha want?”

  Crockett grinned at her and bumped his eyebrows. She stifled a smile. “Need a menu?” she asked.

  “Got any corned beef hash?” Crockett said.

  “Does a catholic have any beads?”

  “Two over easy, hash and toast.”

  “Chief?”

  “Four scrambled, hash browns, double bacon, two biscuits, and a side of gravy. On his check.”

  Satin looked at Crockett. “This a bribe to keep you outa jail for jumpin’ those two upstanding citizens last night?”

  “Naw. I just did that to impress you. I was hoping that you’d be so dazzled by my courage and skill that when next we met, you’d swoon and fall into my waiting arms.”

  Satin patted him on the shoulder. “That dog won’t hunt,” she said and turned away toward the kitchen.

  Smoot grinned at Crockett. “Drawin’ a bead on Satin, are you?” he asked.

  “Not me. She’s a little too young, doncha think?”

  “She’s got a daughter someplace in Kaycee. I think she’s a grandma, too.”

  “What?”

  “No kidding,” the chief went on. “She goes out now and then, but nothing serious. Not a lot to choose from out here. She lives in an apartment above the post office. Independent as a hog on ice.”

  “Last thing I need right now is to get involved with anybody,” Crockett said.

  “Yeah. Right.”

  “I’m serious.”

  Smoot’s response was stifled by Satin’s return with two cups of coffee.

  “Oh, joy,” Crockett said.

  Satin raised an eyebrow. “You don’t like our coffee?”

  “Crockett’s the particular type,” Smoot said. “Only wants the best. You dating anybody?”

  “Well, that’d be none of your business, I guess.”

  Smoot grinned. “I’m not asking for me,” he went on.

  Satin looked at Crockett. “What? You can’t talk for yourself?”

  “Don’t need to,” Crockett said. “The chief here is doing a good job. I hate to interrupt. Tell her about all those small children I saved from that burning building, Chief.”

  Satin rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh. I need a man about as much as a fish needs a hula-hoop. You two just sit there and behave yourselves before I call the sheriff.”

  Crockett watched her walk away as Smoot put two packets of sugar in his coffee. The chief stirred his brew thoughtfully for a moment, then looked across the table.

  “You pretty much made fools out of the Boggs boys last night, Crockett. That wound’ll fester before it’ll heal.”

  Crockett sighed. “Probably,” he said.

  “It worries me a little. I’ll talk to ‘em and try to settle ‘em down, but I doubt if it will do any good. Those boys are as mean as snakes and about half as bright.”

  “They tore down a bunch of my no trespassing signs,” Crockett said. “While I was fixing the damage yesterday afternoon, they drove by and gave me some lip. I ran ‘em off. That’s what the shit was about last night. They just wanted to cause me a little trouble. Show me that I don’t scare ‘em.”

  Smoot took a sip of coffee. Crockett added cream to his and lit a Sherman. The big man thought for a moment before he spoke.

  “You have the right to defend yourself and protect your property. Want to sign a complaint?”

  “C’mon, Dale. I can’t prove they tore down the signs. They damn sure know they aren’t allowed on my place, though. We discussed it at some length yesterday afternoon.”

  “You got a gun?”

  “I got a gun.”

  “What kind?”

  “686 Smith.”

  “If I were you, I’d keep it handy.”

  Their food arrived and they ate in silence for a while, then made small talk until the end of the meal. Smoot excused himself, thanked Crockett for breakfast, and departed. Crockett left a five for Satin and wandered up to the cash register. She met him there, took his money, gave him his change, tore the stub off the ticket, scribbled on it, and passed it across the counter.

  “Here’s your receipt,” she said. “Bribes are tax deductible.”

  By the truck, Crockett looked at the receipt. Almost twelve dollars. Puzzled, he started to wad it up when he noticed some writing on the back. Closer examination revealed a short note.

  “Fridays are usually good for me,” it read.

  Smiling, he got in the truck.

  Dundee was glad to see him.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Satin

  Crockett spent the next few days posting the rest of the signs and walking the land with Dundee to cement their bond and familiarize himself with the place. He found a small spring in one of the draws, a shallow pool no more than four feet across, the clay bottom reduced to sand that boiled lightly in several places beneath less than a foot of cool clear water.

  The pup was doing well. She and Nudge had gotten to the point that Nudge often trailed along when Dundee went out to roam. Crockett got a kick out of watching her bouncing around the cat as Nudge picked his way through the trees and undergrowth, the two of them disappearing into the forest primeval. Toleration was the best he had hoped for from Nudge, but it seemed the cat and the pup had begun to bond. It was good for Nudge. He had become more active, dropped his massive weight down to about thirty-five pounds, and had even presented Crockett with half of a rabbit one sunny afternoon.

  Because of the Boggs Brothers threat, he’d taken to carrying a gun when he went for a hike, but he’d seen nor heard nothing from them in over a week. Lyle Higgenbotham stopped by once to see how everybody was doing, admired the pup, gaped at Nudge, and accepted coffee to which he added his customary sightin’ oil. All in all, things had settled out quite nicely. So much so, that Crockett was beginning to think about a more permanent shift in residency. With that in mind, and the need for some human contact, one morning about eight he loaded Dundee in the truck and headed into Hartrick. Driving down Main Street, he noticed Chief Smoot standing on the steps of City Hall. Crockett rolled down the passenger window.

  “Hey!” he shouted.

  “Thought you’d run off somewhere!” came the answering shout.

  “Breakfast?”

  Smoot thought for a moment. “On you?” he asked.

  “Sure.”

  “On my way.”

  Crockett parked in front of Wagers Café and waited for the big man to cross the street. The Chief hesitated by the truck long enough to say hello to Dundee and scratch her ears before the two of them went inside. The back booth was open. Satin showed up shortly after they sat down.

  “Mornin’ Chief,” she smiled, patting Dale on the shoulder. She turned her eyes across the booth. “Crockett,” she said.

  Crockett, sensing her mood, nodded. “Satin,” he said.

  Smoot’s pager went off. He looked at it and grimaced. “The mayor, in all his infinite wisdom, has summoned me to the courthouse,” he said. “Probably out of toilet paper in the women’s john. Gotta go.” He rose from the booth and departed.

  Satin looked at Crockett. Her gaze was neutral. “You haven’t been in for a while,” she said. “Thought I scared you away.”

  “I thrive on fear,” Crockett said.

  Satin suppressed a smile. “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yep. Love it. Maybe you could answer a question for me.”

  “Maybe.”

  “What day is tomorrow?”

  Satin’s smile sneaked through. “Why, I believe that tomorrow is Friday.”

  “I’ll be dammed,” Crockett said.

  Satin shifted her weight from foot to foot. “I got other customers,” she said. “Is there a reason for all this?”

  “Well,” Crockett drawled, “I was thinkin’ about driving over to Liberty tomorrow afternoon, stopping by Home Depot to price a
hot tub or two, maybe grabbing a late lunch somewhere.”

  “That oughta be fun for ya,” Satin said.

  “Anyway, I hate to make such a long and arduous journey all by myself. Thought it might be nice to have a little casual company on the trip. Someone to assist in passing the time. You know, a companion for the excursion. A cohort on the expedition, as it were.”

  “Got anybody in mind?”

  “I was considering that very conundrum when you approached the booth.”

  Satin sighed. “You got a point to make?”

  “Eventually.”

  “You always this full a crap?”

  “Usually.”

  Satin looked at him with something akin to pity. “Two o’clock tomorrow afternoon,” she said, “you be in front of the post office. I’ll meet you there.”

  “I can do that.”

  “Fine. Now, do you want breakfast, or did you just come in here to exercise your vocabulary?”

  “Breakfast would be nice.”

  “Anything in particular?”

  “Surprise me,” Crockett said. “By the way, what’s your last name?”

  “Kelly,” she said.

  Crockett grinned. “Thank God. I was afraid it might be Sheets.”

  Satin arched an eyebrow. “Okay, wise guy, what’s your first name?”

  “David.”

  Satin mulled his answer over for a moment. “Ha!” she said, and walked away.

  Crockett’s breakfast consisted of ham and eggs, hash browns, and a short stack. When he paid his check, Satin presented him with a piece of paper containing a phone number.

  “In case you change your mind.”

  “Not likely,” Crockett said, and headed for his truck.

  The next morning Crockett went through nearly an entire roll of duct tape trying to get the dog hair off the seats of his truck. He also used the standard equipment hose reeled from the utility bin of the bus to wash the Dodge as well as he could. After over two hours of labor the truck turned out three times better than when he started, and half as well as he would have liked. He made a mental note to locate a car wash someplace. After he finished with the truck, he did a couple of loads of laundry, trimmed his ‘stash and chin whiskers, took a short and soapy shower, gave up trying to fool anybody with his rapidly thinning pate, brushed out his ponytail, swore to lose twenty pounds, put on dark gray slacks, a deep maroon shirt that he’d picked up on sale at Cabelas, tossed a windbreaker in the back seat of the truck, and headed for Hartrick under bright sunshine and sixty-degree breezes. He stopped at the end of the drive, returned to the bus, put both Nudge and Dundee out, laid his 686 Smith & Wesson in the glovebox, and left for the second time. Dundee followed him to the road, then turned back to where Nudge was sitting in the middle of the drive. On the way to Hartrick, he realized that he was excited and a little nervous at the prospect of spending the afternoon with Satin.

  He waited at the edge of town for nearly ten minutes for the world’s longest train to pass and pulled up in front of the post office two minutes early. Within thirty seconds, Satin, wearing blue jeans, soft moccasins, a blue and white striped shirt partially buttoned over a dark blue tank top, and carrying a black clutch purse only slightly larger than a taco, materialized around the edge of the building and made it to the passenger side door before he could get out and offer manly assistance.

  Satin clambered into the seat and smiled at him. She was wearing light makeup and looked ten years younger than she probably was.

  “Tall truck you got here, Crockett.”

  “Doubtless some sort of compensation,” Crockett said, returning her smile.

  “Nervous?” she asked.

  “A little,” Crockett said.

  “Me, too. Let’s go for a drive.”

  They didn’t say much until they got to 152. After they turned onto the highway, Crockett broke the ice.

  “Okay,” he said, “let’s get acquainted. It’s time for the Q&A. You go first.”

  Nonplussed, Satin jumped right in. “All right,” she said. “You had a cane with you in the café the other night. Why a cane?”

  “Because of my leg.”

  “What’s the matter with your leg?”

  “It’s gone.”

  “Gone?”

  “Yep. From three or four inches below the knee.”

  “Wow. Which one?”

  Crockett thought for a moment. “I forget,” he said.

  Satin grinned. “Okay. Your turn.”

  Crockett pondered things for a while before he spoke. “If you were marooned on a desert island,” he said, “who would you rather have with you? A Chippendale dancer, or Time Magazine’s man of the year.”

  “How ‘bout Cosmo’s Chippendale dancer of the year?” Satin asked.

  “A woman of simple needs.”

  “Could I have a bunch of good books, too? It would give me something to do while he caught his breath.”

  “Good books by who?” Crockett said.

  “Oh, Elmore Leonard, Robert B. Parker, Dan Jenkins…”

  “C’mon,” Crockett interrupted. “Really?”

  “Sure.”

  “Some of my faves,” Crockett went on. “No romance novels?”

  “Gag.”

  “True crime?”

  “Double gag.”

  “Feminine mystique?”

  “Gimme a break, willya?”

  “Doesn’t it get lonesome out there?” Crockett said.

  “Out where?”

  “Standing outside the herd all by yourself like that?”

  “Sometimes,” Satin said. “But the view is a hell of a lot better. My turn. What brings you to Hartrick?”

  “Just trying to get away.”

  “From what?”

  Crockett smiled. “Life its ownself.”

  “Gotta be a woman behind that someplace.”

  “And you,” Crockett said. “What brings you to Hartrick? You a native?”

  “Almost,” Satin said. “I spent the first eighteen years of my life in Orrick, Missouri.”

  “Where?”

  “Orrick.”

  “That where they make the vacuum cleaners?”

  Satin laughed. “Nope. It’s spelled differently. Orrick’s a little town off 210 out in Ray County. Not much different than Hartrick. Two peas out of the same pod. I left Orrick and moved to Kaycee. Then, after my daughter took off, I needed to get back to some roots, but I didn’t wanna drag up too much personal history, so I moved up here. Where do you live?”

  “Out on Poston Road. I bought a place. Got a bus parked out there.”

  “A bus?”

  “Yeah. A Discovery motor home. Slide outs, a screen room, washer/dryer, all the amenities. I call it The Pequod.”

  “As in Ahab, don’t take your harpoon to town?”

  “You got it.”

  “By yourself?”

  “Oh, no. I have a cat named Nudge and a dog named Dundee.”

  “Just Nudge and Dundee, and Crockett makes three,” Satin said.

  Crockett smiled. “I don’t know if it’s heaven or not, but it is blue.”

  “And today you’re out to look at hot tubs.”

  Crockett shook his head. “Nope. Today I’m out to look at you. Hot tubs just seemed like a good excuse.”

  “Works for me,” Satin said.

  As they rolled into Liberty, Crockett offered Satin a choice.

  “Schlotsky’s or Steak & Shake?” he asked.

  “What’s Schlotsky’s?”

  “You’ve never been to a Schlotsky’s?”

  “No.”

  “Ever been to a Subway?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you like it?”

  “No. I don’t like those kind of sandwiches.”

  “You’ll like Schlotsky’s.”

  Satin leaned back in the seat and crossed her arms. “You think so, huh?”

  Crockett grinned. “Trust me,” he said.

  “Right. You go
t a used car you’re trying to sell?”

  “You are about to learn how trustworthy I am,” Crockett said, navigating his way through a hazardous left turn to get off 152. “Schlotsky’s, here we come.”

  “Just a take charge kinda guy, huh, Crockett.”

  “Especially when unbelievers need to be shown the way to the truth and the light,” Crockett said. “Or if they’re members or the fairer gender.” He turned into Schlotsky’s lot and parked in front of the building.

  “Got that whole male thing goin’ on, doncha?”

  “Father knows best, Dear,” Crockett said.

  “Gonna open the door for me when we go inside?”

  “Absolutely, Pumpkin.”

  “Gonna order for me, too?”

  “Yes I am, little lady.”

  “Gonna decide where we sit?”

  “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it, hon.”

  When Crockett opened his door, Satin never moved. Chuckling, he walked around the truck and opened the door for her.

  Satin gave him a sickly-sweet smile, took his offered hand, and lapsed into a southern accent as she allowed him to assist her in climbing out of the truck, “Why, thank yew, suh. I have often come to rely on the generosity of strangers. Or was that kindness?”

  Ten minutes later, elbows on the table and halfway through a basic Schlotsky’s with extra meat, Satin grinned at him. “You were right,” she said.

  “Let this be a lesson to you.”

  “Don’t push your luck, bub.”

  Crockett smiled and picked up a fallen bit of black olive. “You don’t eat much like a girl,” he said.

  “Four older brothers. There’s really only a couple of things I do like a girl.”

  Crockett pounced. “And those would be…?”

  “None of your business at this point in time,” Satin said. “Are you gonna eat the rest of your chips?”

  Crockett pushed the bag in her direction. “I hear you’re a grandmother,” he said.

  “Yep. Got a daughter and a three year old granddaughter.”

  “How old were you when you had a kid? Twelve?”

  Satin smiled. “You can make a compliment sound like an indictment,” she said.

  “It’s more of an art than a science.”