by JL Curtis
The old man nodded, and pulled out into traffic, “Billy, you want to tell me what is going on?”
“Counselor, you want to take a guess?” Billy asked.
Randall laughed, “You wanted to confirm what they had, and you were basically using their deposition for your own discovery weren’t you?”
The old man saw Billy nod in the mirror, “That, and I wanted to get them to interrogatories. That way we’re handling written questions, and we can either respond or object on a question-by- question basis to the truth. Hector’s kinda sloppy, and I’m betting he’ll screw up the translations enough that we can object to the questions and leave him in the dark as to what is and what isn’t the truth.”
They grabbed a table in the back corner of the diner, and ordered lunch. The old man excused himself after they ordered and Randall asked Billy curiously, “What’s Cronin really like? I’ve never really had any interaction with him.”
Billy leaned back and sipped his sweet tea, “John is old school Texas, Nancy. What that makes him, is someone who puts a lot of value on the truth, people themselves, dignity, self-worth, self-respect, honor, modesty, humility, and hard work. Cornerstones that anchor him are family, horses and dogs. Strange as that may sound…”
Cocking her head she said, “Family I get, but horses and dogs?”
“True Texans literally lived and died by their horses. They were the lifelines out here. Without a horse you were days walking to get anywhere. Dogs? Dogs provided warning against bad things and provided companionship when they were out on the trail and in camp. John’s, well actually Jesse’s dog, Sam was killed in the raid on the house, and they all took that hard. Sam was a member of the family.”
Randall nodded, “That… Well, hearing it put that way makes sense. Hey! You called me Nancy!”
“You’ve earned it. You’ve come a long way since UT Law.”
Ungood Things
Jesse picked Aaron up at the San Diego airport at nine Friday night, and after getting the bags in the car and a quick kiss said, “Aaron, there was an accident this afternoon on the I-5, apparently the Colonel and Captain Grazio are in ICU at Balboa, and Major Joy and Lieutenant Webber were killed. Details are sketchy, but it looks like they were hit head on at the off ramp by a ‘cowboy’ running from the sheriff’s pursuit.”
Aaron slumped in the seat, “Ah damn. Do I need to go in?” he asked as he fumbled out his cell phone.
“Call Snake, he’s got whatever other details there are. They knew you weren’t getting back ‘til late, and Matt was fielding calls. The Wives Clubs are helping out, so I’m doing some food, along with babysitting the Webber’s baby. He’s about Jace’s age.”
Aaron nodded, “Who’s watching them?”
“Felicia, she’s also doing some tamales for the food contribution. Matt’s getting some play time and learning about little kids, now that he’s got one on the way too! I’m not sure he’s going to do real well with diapers though.” Jesse said with a laugh.
Aaron spent the rest of the ride on the phone with Snake, discussing options and whether or not to call the teams in tomorrow. They decided to go ahead and do a muster and put out what word they had.
***
The weekend proved to be anything but restful, between the situations with the families of those killed and injured, the decisions that had to be made, and planning what support needed to be put into place, as well as implementing contingency plans. The general put Colonel Hast in temporary charge of the SOBs, pending direction from HQ Marine Corps, and he pulled Captain Ragsdale back to run the teams until a decision was made on a relief for Captain Grazio. Jesse had gone into the PD, and found out that in fact the ‘cowboy’ had been transporting drugs. They’d found eighteen kilos of cocaine and nine kilos of 999 pure heroin in the trunk of the Mustang convertible he was driving.
When they traced the car’s paperwork, it had come back to a flophouse in San Diego frequented by illegals known to have just crossed the border, and the owner of the car professed to have no knowledge of who the driver was, nor when or how he’d gotten the keys. When CHP had gone back to interview him again, he’d disappeared, along with all but one old lady, who was apparently too sick to leave the flop house.
Colonel Johnson and Captain Grazio were still in the ICU, with multiple fractures and concussions. Both were still sedated, which was frustrating the investigators. NCIS had gotten involved, since a government vehicle was wrecked and the accident occurred in the line of duty. They were asking intrusive questions of all the family members about the mental states of the four men, their drinking habits, as well as interviewing both the attendees at the meeting in San Diego they had just left and their co-workers.
Three days later, Aaron and Snake were sitting in their office in the team building when First Sergeant Brill called. Aaron put the call on speaker, “Aaron, Snake, Mike here. Hope y’all are sitting down.”
“What’s up?”
“Just got a message from HQMC, replacements for the colonel, major, captain and lieutenant.”
Snake asked, “Replacements for all of them?”
Brill snorted, “Yep, all of them. Guess the determination was made that the colonel and captain would be out too long. The bad news is, it’s Colonel Marionette Mitchell as the replacement, and a Captain Goss, replacing Grazio. Major Finch is getting the ops slot, just a bit earlier than planned. The LT they’re ordering in, is coming from Quantico along with Goss, but I don’t know anything about him.”
Aaron replied, “Good for the major. Bad for us on the Colonel. Any word on this Captain Goss? It’s not R.M. Goss is it?”
“Yep, Richard Marion Goss. You know him?”
Aaron and Snake looked at each other, and Snake said, “Oh yeah, we know that fucker. He wrote us up in Fallujah for taking a sniper out of a minaret. Wanted us courts martialed for violating ROE.”
“What?”
“He was a first looie, his platoon was pinned down, they called us and we spotted the sniper up in the minaret in a graveyard. We told him to give us a pop-out with a couple of folks to get the sniper up so we could take the shot. He refused because of ROE. Bout that time, the sniper came up to take a shot at somebody else, and we both capped his ass. Told Goss he was good to go, and he shit a brick.”
Brill asked, “What happened then?”
“He radioed the battalion that we’d violated ROE, after he’d told us not to. After the cleanup, he formally wrote us up on charges. Colonel Bateman went to the General and it was dropped. We heard Goss got his ass chewed for it, too. Where is he coming from?”
They heard Brill flipping through pages, “Looks like MCCDC[12], Quantico. He was apparently working Expeditionary Force Twenty-One stuff.”
Snake sighed, “Lovely, just fucking lovely. That means he’s going to show up with all kinds of new rules that we’re not going to know about…”
Aaron looked at Snake and made a cutting motion, Snake nodded and Aaron said, “Thanks Mike. We’ll be advised.”
***
Aaron moped around the house every night for the rest of the week, finally Jesse said, “Dammit Aaron, this isn’t like you. You’ve come too far to let one asshole get you down. He really can’t be that bad, can he?”
Aaron nodded as Matt chimed in from the kitchen, “Jesse, there are good Marine officers, great Marine officers, and a few paper pushing, ass kissing dicks that weasel through the system on the backs of their troops. Goss is one of the latter.”
Jesse handed Jace to Aaron, “But… I mean, isn’t there anything you can do about people like that?”
Aaron bounced Jace on his knee, much to Jace’s delight, as Boo Boo whined for attention at his other knee. Distracted, Aaron reached down to pet Boo Boo and Jace tilted from his perch then fell on Boo Boo. Rather than cry, Jace laughed and grabbed for Boo Boo’s ears, prompting Jesse to pick him up and turn on Aaron, “Hey, pay attention. Jace isn’t bulletproof, or break proof.
Aaron hung his head, �
�Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
“You need to start thinking and watch him, okay?”
“Yes, dear. I’ll do better. I’ve never been around little kids for any length of time.”
Jesse hugged Aaron and whispered, “Well, we’ll learn together.”
***
Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday passed without sight of Captain Goss, and calls to Brill weren’t much help. Apparently, Goss was closeted with Colonel Mitchell and Major Finch, but both Colonel Hast and First Sergeant Brill had been excluded from the meetings.
That was unusual considering how most commands ran. More worrisome was the three officers were reviewing all personnel jackets without getting input from any of the team leaders or Gunnies.
Thursday morning, Captain Goss had taken the morning report from Aaron without any comment, and reported all present and accounted for. With the entire battalion formed up on the parade ground, Colonel Mitchell, followed by the administrative staff, held a formal inspection.
None of the teams escaped the colonel’s wrath; between haircuts, unsatisfactory uniforms, dirty boots or shaves, Brill had about six pages of write-ups. The colonel finished the inspection and stomped back to the podium, tapped the mic and laid into the battalion. He indicated his displeasure in no uncertain terms, and said there would be daily uniform inspections at zero six hundred until he was satisfied.
Captain Goss dismissed the team, directing them to muster in PT gear and rucks in thirty minutes. Aaron and Snake looked at each other and hustled everyone back, quickly changed and made sure everyone’s ruck was at least presentable.
Ten minutes prior to the muster time, the team was at attention in front of the team building, when Captain Goss drove up. He got out of his car and stomped across the street. Stopping in front of Aaron he said, “Gunnery Sergeant Miller, you are out of uniform, unless that is the prosthetic you wear all the time. Do you have a different prosthetic?”
“Yes, Sir. This is my running…”
Goss sniffed, “I said you were out of uniform. You have five minutes to get back here in proper uniform.”
“Aye Aye, sir.” Aaron said, and ran back into the team building. Quickly popping the running leg off, he rushed getting the walking leg back on, then walked quickly back to the formation.
Goss was walking through the formation and Snake leaned over whispering, “Goss is checking to make sure everybody’s ruck has something in it.”
Goss walked back to the head of the formation, “I wonder if you people are even capable of performing like Marines. Let’s find out. Forward march, double-time march. At the run.”
Aaron started to call a jody, and Goss circled back, “Silence. You will only call jodies when I allow it. You people won’t have the breath to call jodies by the time I get through with you today.”
Snake had hit his watch at the start, and said, “Looks like he’s pushing an eight minute pace. How’s your leg doing?”
Aaron replied, “So far, so good. But I’ve never done an extended run on it, so I have no idea how either it or I will hold up.”
***
Forty-five minutes later the team returned to the building. Aaron wasn’t the last person in, but he was close. As he crossed the line, Goss was there to meet him, “You disappoint me Gunnery Sergeant, I expected a leader, but it looks like you’re nothing more than a follower. If you expect to stay here, you better get in shape.”
With that, Goss got in his car and left. Snake brought over a bottle of water and said, “Sorry man, if it makes you feel any better, he’s on my ass too. Said we’ll have a team area inspection right after lunch. And he expects us to all have new uniforms and haircuts by zero eight in the morning.”
Aaron took a drink, swished it around his mouth and spit savagely, “That sumbitch is trying to run me off. Ain’t happenin’. I worked too damn hard to get back here. Let’s get the team hot on a field day. We’re burning daylight.”
***
The teams passed Goss’ inspection, and he grudgingly told Aaron and Snake to get everyone to the barbershop, there would be a haircut inspection at five pm. Goss left again, and left Aaron and Snake standing in the team office staring at each other.
Aaron eased himself into a chair with a groan, “I don’t believe this. He’s treating us like we’re in Parris Island.”
Snake looked at Aaron closely, “Man you don’t look good. Your leg bothering you?”
Aaron nodded, “Yeah, hurts like hell. I’ve never tried to run with the walking leg. That wasn’t pleasant, and it’s a heavy sumbitch after a while. I’ll soak it tonight and come back strong tomorrow.”
“You sure? You don’t want to go to medical and get a chit that specifies you can use the running leg in PT?”
“Nah, I’m not going to give him the satisfaction. I’ll get in better shape.”
Back in the Saddle
“Good to see you back Captain!” Deputy Hart said as he laid another pile of paperwork on the old man’s desk.
“Thanks, but I wish you’d at least wrapped a few of these up while I was gone!
Hart shrugged, “These are just the open ones. I managed to get four closed for ya.”
The old man groaned, “Oh lovely. What’s the hottest one?”
Hart ducked his head, “Umm, actually it’s a rustling case.”
“Rustling?”
“Yes sir, somebody hit the Gilbert place last night and got thirty head of inseminated Santa Gertrudis.”
The old man leaned back, “That’s eighty to a hundred grand. Have you talked to Tom Gilbert?”
“Not yet, Danny Ortiz took the report this morning on third shift. I haven’t even set up an interview.”
The old man flipped quickly through the report and pulled the phone over. Hitting speaker, he dialed a number from memory, after three rings he heard an angry “Hello?”
“Tom, John Cronin. I’m looking at a report that you lost thirty head sometime last night. Got time for me to come out and talk to you? I’m going to be doing the investigation.”
Tom Gilbert replied, “Yeah John, come on out. I think they are long gone, but you’re welcome to investigate for all the good it’s going to do. I’ll meet you at the house.”
The old man’s hand hovered over the speaker button, “Okay, I’ll see you in about thirty minutes, Tom.” Punching the speaker off, the old man reached for his hat and Yogi’s leash. “C’mon dog, let’s go do some work.” Turning to Hart he continued, “Appreciate it if you’d hold the fort down ‘til I get back, in case the sheriff comes in and wonders where the hell I disappeared to.”
Deputy Hart nodded, “Will do, Captain.”
***
A half hour later, the old man was sitting on the Gilbert’s front porch, a cup of coffee on the table in front of him, as Yogi investigated the yard. Taking a sip the old man asked, “Which pasture did they get the cows from, Tom?”
Gilbert blew gingerly on his coffee, “They got ‘em out of the east pasture, right out of the pen at the chutes. Hell, we did all the work for ‘em. All they did was drive ‘em into the chute and into the damn trailer!”
“They were all branded, right?”
Gilbert nodded, “Yeah. Lazy G, my registered brand with TSCRA[13]. Here’s a list of the ear tags too.”
The old man scribbled a note in his wheel book, “Got it, lemme call Brian Cameron, he’s a special ranger commissioned by the Texas Department of Public Safety to investigate cattle theft, and he’s got contacts all over the state. Then we’ll go take a look at the site.”
Pulling out his cell phone, he dialed a number from memory; it was answered after a couple of rings, “Brian, John Cronin over in Pecos County… Yep, had some rustlers hit Tom Gilbert’s place last night and got thirty head of newly inseminated red Santa Gertrudis, sometime between probably eight last night, and four this morning.”
Listening for a minute he continued, “Uh huh, registered, Lazy G… Uh, a little over two hundred miles to El Paso from her
e, less than a hundred to Midland.”
Tom Gilbert cocked his head and watched as the old man scribbled another note, “Okay, lemme go check the site and I’ll call you back if I see anything. Thanks, Brian!”
Gilbert asked, “Why the mileage check?”
“According to Brian, the rustlers seldom go more than a hundred miles to sell the cattle. He thinks it’s probably connected to drugs, so we’ve got a decent chance at getting them back.” Getting up slowly he continued, “Let’s take a ride down to the pasture. I want to get some pictures, and see if there is anything I can pass to Brian.” Whistling, he said, “Yogi, come!”
***
Gilbert pointed out where the pen was, and the old man stopped about thirty yards short of it, then got out. Pulling the camera and evidence envelopes out of the trunk, he walked forward cautiously, looking at the ground. He glanced over to Gilbert, “Tom, did you drive down here this morning?”
“Yes, I pulled right up to the pen. I’m guessing now I screwed up, right?”
“Maybe, we’ll see. Do me a favor and stay behind me would you? And walk directly behind me.
Continuing toward the pen, the old man saw where the semi’s tracks had been blurred by Gilbert’s pickup truck when it slid to a stop. Looking in the pen, he could see a few boot prints, but most were trampled by the cattle’s’ hooves. He was lucky and got clean tire tracks right at the loading chute, and took pictures. Measuring the tracks, he said, “Looks like somebody knew how to back a semi in. I’m betting they’ve done this before.” Pointing to what looked like an oil spill, he continued, “Your truck leaking oil Tom?”
Gilbert shook his head, ‘Nah, mine might have a drip or two, but nothing that bad.”
The old man took pictures of the oil spill, and found another set of spots further back toward the chutes. He scraped some of the spill into an evidence envelope, then scanned the area. Getting some dirt from the second spill on his fingers, he sniffed it, “Transmission fluid. Looking at the tire tracks I can see, and this, I’m betting that is an old wore out semi. Lemme call Brian and we’ll head back.” He scooped up some dirt from that spill put it in a separate envelope and took a variety of pictures.