The Austin Job

by David Mark Brown

  “He’s dead.”

  “Really? But I thought—”

  “Emotionally, not physically. Do try to keep up, Senator.”

  “Ah, sorry. I’ll try harder.” He pinched her hand, and she swatted him.

  Splashing ankle-deep along the river’s edge, they passed out from under a cloud’s shadow and into the warmth of the mid-September sun. The sudden change reminded Starr of how unseasonably brisk the weather had become. “Are you chilly?”

  “Maybe hold me a little tighter.” She snuggled back against his chest. The combination of sunlight and Miss Lickter’s closeness warmed his anxious thoughts until as a happy blob they melded the couple together with the saddle, the horse and the earth itself. “He wore a dead man’s Stetson, black.”

  “Who?”

  “Senator,” she chided.

  “Oh, yes. McCutchen.”

  “Too many memories of the dead. Too many skeletons of the past. Ranger McCutchen is a man to be sure, but a man like that can never live in the present.”

  “Wow, all of this from hats.”

  She elbowed him in the ribs. “Thus my trouble with you, Senator Starr. All this time I’ve been looking for a man wearing the right hat.” For the first time since Starr had met Daisy she fumbled with her words. “Look. I realize I’m not very old.”

  “Daisy—”

  She bulled her way forward. “But I’ve learned not to waste my time on promising young men. And when you look like I do,” she let go of his hands around her waist and clutched her breasts for emphasis, “you get attention from a lot of them.”

  He cringed at where the conversation might be going and the velocity at which Daisy directed it. He opened his mouth to stop her, but she rushed onward. “Promising men make promises they can’t deliver, or they won’t. So I interpret their intentions up front using their hats, their posture, their mannerisms—stuff my father’s taught me since I was a little girl with skinned knees and pigtails.”

  Starr thought she might be crying, but he couldn’t see her face.

  “After a while they start to make you sick, and it’s all stuff I wish I didn’t know, but I can’t help it. And then there’s you.” She paused briefly, her chest heaving with rapid breaths.

  “Daisy—”

  “Look, you need someone to trust, but you’re suspicious of anyone who doesn’t talk about themselves. So I’m talking about myself!” She blurted out the words amidst spastic sobs. Willy stopped tentatively, his ears perked up.

  “Wait, I don’t understand.” Starr gathered her into his chest and tried to crane his neck far enough to see her face. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  “It’s you!” She blubbered. “You and your stupid no-hat-wearing-cowlick.”

  “What?”

  “I like you!” She heaved the words out before collapsing into his embrace.

  “Oh.” Starr blinked several times while mentally scurrying back over their conversation, convinced he’d missed an integral piece. After a long pause he nudged Willy forward. The horse descended along a path that ran beneath the Congress Avenue Bridge. Autos rattled and clacked overhead, masking the sounds of Daisy’s ragged breathing and gasping sobs. By the time Willy ascended back to street level Daisy had recovered.

  As they sauntered through a riverside park she calmly continued. “Along with learning how to interpret men’s intentions toward me, both decent and not, I’ve learned that clarity of communication is of utmost importance.”

  “Hmmm, clarity.”

  She jabbed him with a sharp elbow. “My recent outburst notwithstanding.” She huffed. “Senator Starr, really.”

  “Sorry, sorry. Just trying to lighten the mood.” He brushed a wisp of her hair from his face. “But seriously, before you finish I have one question.”

  “Very well.”

  “What are my intentions toward you?” He squeezed her lightly. “I don’t mean it as a test or anything. It’s just,” he paused. “well, I hope I haven’t offended you.”

  “That’s just it.” She sighed, her body quaking. “Protection. Almost nothing but protection from the moment we met. I only learned the difference recently, between possession and protection. They can cause a man to act almost the same, but with motivations miles apart.”

  “Protection.” He repeated the word, scavenging his self-awareness for a match.

  “Now can I finish?”

  “Please.”

  “Clarity of communication,” she resumed. “I’ve made it a practice to communicate in no uncertain terms when a man offends me. As I said before, I’ll not waste time on promising men when all I want is one who delivers.”

  “Oh.” He nodded. His heart sank. Suddenly he wondered if the conversation had steered out of deep water without his knowledge and was currently about to enter dry dock. Was she about to dump him before he even got a chance, just as he discovered he wanted one?

  “Though I haven’t had opportunity, I suppose it figures a wise course of action for me to maintain the same principle when my sensitivities are aroused for the good.” Her words floundered for the second time.

  “Wait. English please. No political talk. My head’s spinning enough as it is from having you in my lap for the past hour.”

  She huffed. “I don’t just like you, Jim Starr, adventurous, handsome, rugged, impromptu, unassuming yet insecure, non-hat-wearing, senator who longs to protect me. But I want you to like me back. And I’m afraid you won’t.”

  “But I—”

  “Don’t.” She interrupted. “My father has protected me since the day I was born, when he wasn’t punishing me. And as annoying as it is, I love him for it. Don’t get me wrong, it’s noble and all, but I don’t need another protector.” She shifted in the saddle, craning her neck to face him for the first time during their ride. Her eyes red and puffy with tears, she cupped his chin in her hand and kissed him on the cheek. Her eyelashes brushed his skin before she pulled away to face forward. “You need more time. I don’t need special skills to see that. And now you know you’ve got someone to trust.”

  FIVE

  A Starr is Borne

  “Senator Starr, thank you for being on time.” Ms. Gwendolyn Lloyd stepped from the private elevator that traversed up and down the northern wing of the Grandview building. While waiting for the doors to open on the second floor, Starr had noted the lack of buttons for hailing the lift. The walls surrounding the doors contained nothing of function whatsoever, save a keyhole.

  “Ms. Lloyd.” He nodded, consciously battling the impulse to scratch the scar traversing from his left eye all the way to the corner of his mouth.

  She stepped back into the elevator, inviting him to follow. “I’m sure you’re anxious to meet G.W., but I’m afraid he’s been detained with a small matter.” Starr wasn’t sure whether he felt disappointment or relief. “But he should have it cleared up within the hour. We can wait in the receiving area.”

  “Oh.” Starr exhaled, realizing he’d been holding his breath since he stepped into the moving closet. “Is the keyhole on the exterior for summoning this contraption?”

  Ms. Lloyd smiled as she pressed the button for the third floor causing the doors to slide shut. “Security measure, Senator. My father’s a very private man.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  “It’s simple really,” she continued. “While this key is inserted, the keypad is active. Without it, the controls are dead, although the elevator itself will still function.” She demonstrated the latter by removing the key before the lift came to a complete stop. As the doors opened to the third floor, she ushered him out. “If you would have remained inside without the key you’d be stuck.”

  “Oh.” He let his eyes rove the opulent surroundings, a part of the building he’d never seen before. “Well, I’m sure you’ve got something more important to do than babysit me.”

  “Nonsense. It’s my job to see to this building’s employees, of which you’ve been a favored one for the last six months. B
esides, I’ll need to be sure you boys play nice.”

  As he stepped further into the lavish lobby, Sheriff Lickter rose from a nearby couch. “Starr.” He stepped forward with outstretched hand. “The man who single-handedly put down the Austin riots of 1918.” Clenching a toothpick between his teeth, he turned back toward the couch. “We’ll have to come up with a catchier name of course. But then again, I reckon the history books are good at that.”

  Starr shook it off. “I thought I was going out for sausage and eggs. You’re the one who seems to be Johnny-on-the-spot. I would have been lost this morning without you, and now I find you up here.”

  Lickter shrugged. “I have a nose for trouble. Lately it happens that you’ve been a good indicator.” He jabbed him with an elbow. “Have a seat. I hear it’s gonna be a wait.”

  “You’re here to see Mr. Lloyd?” Starr asked.

  “Who? G.W.?” Naw, I’m here at Ms. Lloyd’s request. She thought she might need added security.”

  “Never mind him.” Ms. Lloyd stepped between the two men. “But please do have a seat.” She waited, forcing the men to sit even while a lady in the room remained standing. “Now, would you like some coffee?”

  “No thanks, ma’am.” Starr let his gaze roam the mahogany panels and marble floors while keeping his head still.

  “There will be no polite martyrdom in my waiting room, Senator Starr.”

  He choked on his own spit, sputtering to reply. “Well in that case, make it with sugar.”

  “One or two?”

  “Three.”

  “Sheriff?”

  “The regular please.”

  She shook her head as she disappeared behind a partition decorated by a tapestry with the deepest blues Starr had ever seen in a fabric. “Where’s that rug from?”

  Ms. Lloyd’s voice carried over the top of the wall. “Ottoman Empire, although not for long I hear.”

  Lickter answered Starr’s confused look. “She means the empire, not the rug.”

  Starr nodded. “I’ve tried to keep up with all that. I’ve got a little brother in France. Or I think he’s in France. He’s a good man, a brave man.”

  Ms. Lloyd returned with the coffee and took a seat after serving the men. “You’re a good man and a brave man as well, Senator Starr.”

  “I hope so.” He took a drink and opened his eyes wide.

  Lickter chortled into his cup. “Not the same stuff you get downstairs, is it? Now you know why I hang out up here.”

  “And I thought it was for my scintillating company,” Ms. Lloyd quipped. The two clearly shared a past, jokes passing back and forth between them effortlessly. He decided to go with it and settled back into the cushions. Any distraction from the double doors looming over the room and leading into an unknown future for a wet-behind-the-ears Texas state senator was plenty welcome.

  Ms. Lloyd gripped him with her eyes—warm but inquisitive. “You’re a smart man too, or you wouldn’t be working here. But I’m sure you have dreams beyond regional manager of new loans.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I suppose the job here at the bank has been mostly to pay the bills.” He took another drink. “No offense. I’m grateful to have it and its challenging enough. Rewarding too, to loan an honest man the money to get his feet underneath him.”

  “And you’ve done an excellent job.”

  “Thank you. Don’t do anything, unless you do it right. That’s how I try to live anyway.”

  “The State Capitol?” Ms. Lloyd sipped her coffee, keeping her eyes fully attentive.

  “I love her.” Starr felt the need to break the connection with the elder woman as she tunneled into him with her eyes, so he cracked his neck and focused on the chandelier. “I need her, I suppose. I’m good at it, politicking that is.” He still felt more tentative than normal after the morning’s events. “Maybe not as naturally gifted as with the rodeo, but better than I ever would have been at farming.” He shrugged, his eyes moist, and pulled back from the edge. “And if a man can’t do what he’s good at, what can he do?”

  “Well said, Senator Starr. I believe the same thing.” She sat her coffee down on the small table between them and leaned forward, all of a sudden terrifyingly intense. “What are you willing to pay to be the best?”

  “Pardon?”

  “I won’t mince words with you, Senator. Texas is in trouble, trouble she can’t buy her way out of. And it’s going to take more than a part-time leader to get her out of it.”

  Steam drifted upward from the coffee in his hands. He couldn’t remember the name of the intricate blue pattern on the cup. With a deep breath he forced his mind to address the most dangerous question he’d been posed his entire life. Bail out now, or hang on for dear life and the chance to win the prize? He met her gaze and spoke out loud the answer that had always been there, from rodeo to law school to now. “I’d give it all.”

  She brightened. “Well in that case, G.W. is ready to see you. Right this way.” He put his coffee down and stood. Straightening his suit, he repeated the inside joke he kept between him and his horse. Ride big, or go home.

  “See you on the other side, boy.” Lickter slapped him on the shoulder.

  The words struck Starr as odd, but before he could think about it further Ms. Lloyd had swung the mahogany doors open. “Step into my office.”

  ~~~

  The contrast between the two rooms struck him like a hoof to the face. The office itself had low ceilings and bare walls. Brightly lit yet sparsely furnished, it was just an office. Ms. Lloyd closed the doors behind him. She'd nearly reached the desk at the far end before Starr focused on the high back chair facing away. Wait, what did she say?

  A simple nameplate on the desk read, “G.W. Lloyd.”

  As Gwendolyn Winifryd Lloyd reached out her hand to spin the chair, Starr couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it coming. For the second time that day, he’d been shucked. It was starting to raise his hackles. In slow motion he watched the empty chair swivel until Ms. Lloyd had gracefully swept her skirt behind her knees and taken a seat. “Senator Starr.” She nodded for him to take the seat across the desk. Wheeling herself into position, she rested both elbows on the glossy, wooden surface. Starr sat.

  “My father died over twenty years ago, and now you are among an extremely small minority privy to this fact. I am and have been the only G.W. Lloyd Texas has ever known.” Starr started to speak but decided against it. “No, I’m not worried about you revealing my secret. Having you discredited and humiliated, Senator, while unfortunate, would be only mildly inconvenient.”

  Starr shifted his shirt with his shoulders before finally nodding and clearing his throat. “The waiting room, the coffee, Sheriff Lickter—a balancing act between intimidation and relaxation. And you get to conduct your meeting before the subject even knows its happening.” He took a deep breath, battling his anger and his awe.

  He quickly played the day’s events over again, this time through his new perspective—Oleg, Lickter. Daisy. But how could he stop with the one day? The last several months suddenly felt like quicksand, and he had no idea how deeply he had sunk. Lastly, was this lady sitting across from him offering him a rope or a boot to the face?

  G.W. Lloyd interrupted his thoughts. “You’re wondering if I’m one of the good guys. Good and bad aren’t that straight forward in my world, Senator Starr. But what’s important is I think you’re one of the good guys, and I’m asking for your help.”

  “Pardon me for being frank, ma’am.” Ms. Lloyd nodded. “You’ve conducted your interview. While I’m glad you’ve decided me among the good, a compliment I hope to prove true throughout my life, I beg to differ on your opinion of what’s important.” She smiled as he continued. “At the moment I’m feeling a bit fleeced. You say Texas is in trouble. You offer me fancy coffee, and with more than a subtle nudge you suggest our great state needs a great leader in her time of great need.”

  He paused to stare at the middle-aged woman, bubbling with class and a gracef
ul beauty. She raised her brows and stared back as he continued. “Yes, I agree I could be that leader. And while one should never look a gift horse in the mouth, a smart rider never gets into the chute without knowing everything about the horse he’s about to ride.” He leaned over the desk. “No offense intended.”

  “None taken.” Ms. Lloyd smirked. “I’ve been called worse things than a horse, I assure you.”

  He almost laughed. “And this trouble we’re in?”

  “Why the strikes, of course.” She sat back.

  “Of course.” He drummed his fingers on the desk, caught himself, and shook his head. “The thing about that. We both know the farmers are a losing draw. Naw, I might still be a greenhorn, but I know the farmers don’t pull enough weight for this to be about them.”

  Her face remained unchanged. “Senator, what are you insinuating?”

  “Just asking a question.” His scar twitched. “I care about the farmers. What exactly is it you care about? And please, ma’am, don’t say Texas.”

  “Very astute, senator. Now allow me to be frank.” He nodded. “I care about myself, thus I care about Texas. Our fates are intertwined. The bank two floors below you is the largest in the state, and I own it. Many of my clients are farmers, so I care about them as well. The events of this day have clarified their need for a leader. I have too much vested interest to be passive in that leader’s selection. So once again,” her expression grew dark, “and for the last time, Senator Starr, I’m asking for your help.”

  He rubbed the scar on his cheek while groping for the truth she’d left unspoken. Nothing seemed unusual about a wealthy powerbroker seeking to affect politics. Still, something about the way she parsed it reminded him of Oleg’s words. He didn’t like feeling used, and this felt like that. Then it struck him. Maybe she wasn’t backing him as much as opposing Rodchenko.

  “I have a simple plan, Ms. Lloyd. One I suspect you’ll like mountains more than Professor Medved’s. Or is it Rodchenko?” He smiled thinly. “Correct me if I’m wrong in my assumption that Oleg serves as the catalyst behind our conversation today.”