Chapter Twenty-two
Friday morning, Ned and Tom Bell parked behind the Chisum Courthouse, but instead of going inside, they strolled north on Main Street, enjoying the morning sunshine. The dry, cool air put a little spring in their step.
The pair seemed to have been created in a Hollywood wardrobe department. Ned’s black slacks, blue shirt, tiny star on his pocket, and three-inch brimmed Stetson represented a world that was sliding away.
On the other hand, Tom Bell was a western icon that would never change in his wide-brimmed black Stetson, black sport coat, jeans, and Lucchese boots. “We going somewhere special?”
“We busted a still the other day. Biggest boiler I ever saw in my life. Our new mayor wants to make a name for hisself, so he had Cody bring it to town. I heard they’re doing something with it on the square.”
“Taking pictures and such?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
They passed the side door of Duke & Ayers. Inside, a bald man in a limp white shirt was steaming a crease in a Bollman hat to suit a farmer wearing overalls.
Ned stopped at the intersection of North Main and North Plaza. “I’ll be damned.”
Tom Bell’s slight grin was his only reaction.
“What’n hell are they thinking?”
“Well, Ned, it looks like somebody’s set up a still here on the square.”
It looked exactly as it did in the woods that previous day, all the way down to cases of jars waiting to be filled. Ned shook his head as they crossed the street.
Sheriff Cody Parker saw them coming and met them at the corner, clearly embarrassed. “Don’t say nothing, Ned.”
“Say something hell! This is the damndest thing I’ve ever seen. The only thing y’all haven’t done is build a fire under that boiler and start cooking.”
Cody refused to make eye contact. “Mayor Stratton suggested that.”
“Neither Mayor Clay ner Mayor Haynes would’ve had that kind of stupid idea.”
“Well, they aren’t here anymore. It’s Stratton.”
“I never did think him or his daddy had sense enough to pour piss out of a boot.”
“You might want to keep your voice down. He’s over there talking to that reporter from The Chisum News.”
“I don’t care what he hears. This is evidence, you know.”
“I tried to explain that, but he said something about budgets and I knew good and well what he meant.”
“That if you didn’t go along with this nonsense, then you might find your funds a little lighter than last year?” Tom Bell’s voice was soft and even, but with a hint of danger.
“Yessir. Morning, Tom. Stratton’s tightening the screws on us, and he wasn’t too happy when I hired a female deputy. Then she nearly got killed right off the bat, and he says if anything like that happens again, he’s gonna cut my budget, starting with the newest deputy, Anna.”
Ned took off his hat to rub his bald head. “Does O.C. know anything about all this?”
“You talking about Anna, or this damned still?”
“Well, the still, right this minute. If I’s you, I’d yank this down and put it away as soon as Stratton’s through prissing around.”
Cody looked as if he hoped the ground would swallow him up. “That won’t happen for a day or two.” He cleared his throat. “There’s a news crew coming from Dallas, and another one all the way from New York. They want it to stay up there until they get their stories done.”
“O.C’s gonna have a rigor.”
“I imagine so.”
Tom Bell tilted his hat back as the Chisum News reporter finished with the mayor and saw them. “Uh, oh.”
The young reporter hurried over as if he thought they might bolt. He stopped and flipped to a fresh page in his notebook. Another man joined him, holding a Speed-Graphic camera. “So was there trouble when you arrested the moonshiners? I hear y’all exchanged gunfire.”
His attitude immediately irritated Ned. Tom Bell smoothed his mustache and took half a step to the side, trying to appear disinterested. Ned’s forehead wrinkled. “You got a name, boy?”
Cody sighed loudly at the “boy” reference that could have been used in friendly conversation, but was a minor threat that the reporter missed.
“I’m Larry Michael Hagger.”
“How long you been working for the paper? I don’t recognize you.”
“Uh, couple of weeks. Now, the mayor says you…”
“You from around here?”
“Huh? Nope. I worked at the Commerce Journal for a while, then for the Hugo News in Oklahoma, and now I’m…”
“What did the mayor tell you?”
Obviously irritated that he was being questioned when he should have been interviewing Ned, Hagger spoke a little sharper than he should have. “I got his side. Now I want yours.”
Cody rolled his eyes and Tom Bell worked his mouth into a frown to keep from grinning. Cody stepped closer to get the reporter’s attention, and to be in a better position if Ned lost his temper. “How about you and I talk for a minute so Constable Parker can get an idea of how your questions are structured?”
Confused, Hagger gave his head a slight shake as if to clear the cobwebs. “Fine, then. I heard you were notified by an unnamed source.”
“Yes.”
Pen poised, Hagger waited for more. “And?”
Cody nodded. “You heard right. Our information came from an unnamed source.”
“But you won’t give me a name.”
“Nope. Then it’d be a named source.”
“Right. Where was this still located?”
“In the woods west of 271. That’s all I can tell you right now.”
“When can I see?”
Ned snorted. “There’s woods everywhere. Go look at ’em.”
Hagger paused and his photographer stepped in. “How about we get a picture of the three of you in front of the still?”
Tom Bell held up a hand and faded back. “I wasn’t there.”
“No.” Ned’s blue eyes flashed. “Make a picture with the mayor. He’s the one who wanted this set up here.”
Hagger looked at Cody for help. “I need a little more than that. Can you name those who you arrested?”
“That’ll be released later.”
“Do they have criminal records?”
“They do now.”
Hagger reddened. “Look, I’m just trying to write a story.”
Ned paused and Cody was afraid he was going to blow up. Instead, he relaxed. “I know you are.”
Cody relaxed as well. “Here’s what I can give you now. We arrested four men who surrendered once we identified ourselves. Their names will be released as soon as they are charged. Right now, the mayor thought folks here in town would like to see that we’re doing our jobs. I can give you more in a day or two. How’s that?”
Hagger didn’t say anything for a long moment as he finished writing. “Good. Now, Constable, I hear you somehow helped an old man die the other day in the courthouse….”
Tom Bell moved with surprising speed for his age. He stuck his hand out and stepped between Ned and the reporter. “Name’s Tom Bell. Texas Ranger, retired. I’m the one helped arrest them that tried to rob the Woolworth’s the other day.”
Frozen for a moment, Hagger couldn’t decide what to do, but the tension on the sidewalk was so thick he made the right choice. “Yes, sir. Can you tell me what happened?”
The old Ranger took the reporter’s arm and led him toward the fountain gurgling in the middle of the plaza. “Sure can. See, I’ve been gone for a while and came to town for a visit and walked right into a robbery….”
Hagger met his deadline, but the next morning he had an even better story. During the night, someone stole the still.
Chapter Twenty
-three
The windows were open and our bedroom was almost chilly. The house smelled fresh and clean as another cold front pushed down to our little community on the river.
Mark and I both had the crud that Friday morning. I’d been fighting the sheets for a couple of hours and it seemed like I was going to cough my lungs out.
Mark was hacking up a storm when Grandpa came stomping into the kitchen. We heard them talking before Miss Becky brought the sugar bowl and set it on the dresser. She put the back of her hand on my forehead. “Hon, you’re burning up.”
She leaned over and did the same to Mark. “I swanny. Yours ain’t near as high. Just that cough.”
“I don’t believe I feel as bad as Top. I’m not bringing anything up like him.”
“It’s probably his asthma making it worse.” She took the lid off the sugar and unscrewed the mantle from the coal oil lamp on the opposite side of the drawer stack.
Mark rose up on an elbow. “What are you doing?”
“It sounds like y’all have the croup. This should stop it.”
I knew what was coming. She dipped the corner of a dry rag into the coal oil and squeezed two drops into a spoonful of sugar in her other hand. “Open up.” I got the first dose and the taste wasn’t too bad, despite the coal oil.
The best part was we didn’t have to go to school that day.
Chapter Twenty-four
Cool, dry air on Friday afternoon made a bull calf kick up his heels in the pasture beside Ned’s house. A deep blue sky accented the dark green leaves of the massive red oak behind the hay barn and the other trees across the two-lane highway that wound around Ned’s hill.
A V of geese passed overhead on their way to the rice fields west of Houston, their cries reached the farmhouse and announced the arrival of autumn. Clean Canadian air had reached as far south as the Gulf Coast.
Ned was working on his tractor parked by the big gas tank between the house and barn when the phone rang through the window screen. His wrench slipped off the nut at the same time Miss Becky stepped out onto the porch.
“Woooo! Ned!”
“You knuckle-busting son of a bitch!” He flicked his hand a couple of times to shake off the blood. “What is it?”
“Tomm’lee’s on the phone, and you watch your language. The boys probably heard that.”
“What does he want?”
“Well, my stars, you know I don’t ask.”
He pitched the wrench into the toolbox and stormed toward the house, talking all the way. “I swear, a man can’t work on his own tractor without kinfolks wanting something.”
Ned let the screen door slam shut, just to make a point. He sat with a thump on the telephone table’s barely padded seat and picked up the receiver. “What?”
“Ned, I swear. Most folks at least say howdy.”
“Most folks weren’t under their tractor.”
Tommy Lee laughed. “If I didn’t love you, I’d pull your cranky old head off.”
“Might let you do it to get some relief.” Ned couldn’t help but grin back at Tommy Lee’s infectious laughter. “I haven’t seen you in a month of Sundays. What’s going on?”
“Somebody’s been in the pasture I lease from Old Man Wilshire.”
Ned’s blood ran cold. He imagined rustlers parked in back of the pasture not far from Palmer Lake. “They cut the fence to get in?”
“Naw, went through the gate, big as you please.”
“How many cattle’d you lose?”
“Why, I don’t believe they was here to steal any cows. I saw the tracks when I went to feed this morning. All m’stock was there, but I saw where a truck cut across the pasture. I don’t know what it’s all about, but I bet they dug two dozen holes.”
“Holes?”
“Yeah, some was shallow, but a couple not far from a stand of old sycamores were deep and more like trenches. It looks to me like they was looking for something.”
Ned paused, thinking. “Pot hunters?”
“Huh?”
“Grave robbers. Folks who rob Indian graves.”
“That’s illegal.”
“Laws don’t matter to criminals. That’s why they’re the bad guys.”
“Well, I can’t say.”
“I can. I’ll be out there directly. Meet me at your gate.”
Tommy Lee was waiting at the gate half an hour later. He was one of the last men in Lamar County to wear a fedora. “There wasn’t a trailer or nothin’. Just one set of tire tracks.”
Ned sighed and rubbed his bald scalp. He replaced his Stetson and stared down at the seven-foot-long trench and the dried dirt piled on the edge. “You’re an expert on tires and trailers?”
“I’ve pulled enough in my life. So why do you suppose they dug all these other holes?”
A dozen piles of fresh dirt were scattered across the pasture. At first they looked random, but after a few minutes Ned recognized a pattern. “They ain’t pot hunters or grave robbers, I don’t believe.”
“How can you tell that?”
“I can’t for sure, but looky there. Some of ’em are dug by the biggest, oldest trees. That one right there, close to where that gully bends. They’re looking for something else. I don’t see where they took nothin’ out, neither. These holes are as empty as their damned heads.”
“I wish I knew what they were after, then.”
“Gold. My granddaughter told a big fib to some city gal who’s staying at Bill Preston’s house. She’s gone and spread that story that’s gonna go like wildfire if somebody don’t stop it.”
“You don’t say.”
“I do say. Wrap a chain around your gateposts and lock it. That oughta keep ’em out.”
“That No Trespassing sign shoulda done the same thing.”
“Yeah, but a lock carries more weight.”
“My daddy always said locks only keep out honest people.”
Ned surveyed the pasture and nearby woods. “He was right about that. And if they come back, don’t you come out here looking. Call me or Cody.”
“Hole-digging ain’t enough a crime to call the sheriff.”
“It is now.”
Chapter Twenty-five
A truck slowed on the highway and turned into Neal Box’s lot, unusually crowded for a Friday. Cars and trucks parked haphazardly on the bottle-top pavement in front of the porch. Between the vehicles, farmers in light jackets and barn coats, khakis and overalls, visited with strangers who looked out of place in the country.
The cars glistened in the light beside local sedans and trucks covered in dust. A steady stream of customers clumped up and down Neal’s wooden steps, their thin leather soles grinding sand and small pebbles into the rough planks. Neal’s deep voice boomed through the open door.
“Howdy! Come on in! What can I do you for?”
Ned and Tom Bell sat on the porch, watching. A strange car pulled to a stop beside a dozen other unfamiliar vehicles in front of Oak Peterson’s store, which was just as busy, if not more so.
“Tom, I believe we got a gold rush on our hands.”
The old Ranger built his wry grin. “I believe this little burg’s gonna get to be something you won’t recognize before long.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve never seen anything like this, but I have. I was still wet behind the ears when the Rangers sent me out to Rusk County after the Joiner strike came in.”
“That was oil, and it was there. This is about gold, and there ain’t none ’cause Pepper told a story.”
“Don’t matter. It was rough and got rougher when folks poured into East Texas looking to get rich. It brought all kinds.”
“But there’s nothing like that here.”
“No? People talk. Pretty soon somebody’s gonna say they found something, or knew somebody who knew so
mebody who found some gold somewhere, or they heard about buried cash and people’ll pour in causing trouble. You’ll be up to your eyeballs in trespass charges, and that’s not the worst. With those joints across the river, it’ll be a party every night with drunks and meanness coming back here in Lamar County at all hours.”
They watched still another unfamiliar car pass. Two middle-aged men stopped at the edge of the porch and looked up. One had a nose that hooked sharp like a hawk’s beak. “Sheriff!”
Ned frowned. “Constable.”
“All right. Constable, do you know anybody who owns land out near Palmer Lake that would let us rent it for a day or two?”
“For what? A day or two?”
“Well, just to look around. We don’t want to get into no trouble, but we heard about treasure buried out there and thought we’d check it out.”
His friend lit a cigarette. “We’d be careful.”
“Boys, there ain’t no treasure. It’s just a story that my granddaughter started. It’d be for nothing.” Ned leaned an elbow on his knee. “Look, nobody around here’s gonna let you on their place. They either don’t want any trespassing, or they’ve already rented their land for grazing.”
Hook Nose nudged his friend. “See, I told you. They’re not going to let us look around. Thanks for nothing, Constable.”
Ned rubbed the back of his neck as they walked past the domino hall and joined a group of strangers in front of Oak Peterson’s store. “All because of that knothead Pepper and her mean streak.”
Tom watched with his arms crossed. “I heard it was a joke when she got aggravated at some big-titted gal here at Neal’s.”
“Yeah well, Pepper’s daddy got her goat when he found out she was carrying that gold piece around.”
Tom chuckled. “That’s kids for you. I got in trouble enough myself when I was about her age, and at least one time it wasn’t my fault.”
Ned grinned. “The jail’s half full of men with that same excuse.”
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