by Tom Ellis
“You never said what the mustang’s name is?”
“Apache.”
“And Burns broke and trained him?”
“Yes, he trained Jo too.”
“Do you mind telling me how she came to be named Jo?”
“It’s a long story, Carson. Let’s get some coffee and I’ll fill you in on what we know about Lyon Hamilton, and I’ll tell you the story.”
“How did you come to meet Andy Burns?”
“One of my missing persons turned up dead in his Lake. I automatically thought Burns put him there.”
Hadfield paused and looked across the San Rafael. They stopped at the picnic table. “It didn’t turn out that way at all. Have a seat and I’ll get some coffee.” She disappeared into the casita. Andy Burns rode off on Don Cameron.
Hadfield enjoyed visiting with the old rancher and felt like he would be on their side no matter what. Burns made the right call letting the old man in on what they were doing. She believed Carson Bell would keep his mouth shut. She heard something and looked around from her seat at the picnic table. Two horses were approaching. One appeared to be the size of the Clydesdales that pulled the Budweiser beer wagon. Except it didn’t have flashy large feet. The cowboy riding it needed a horse that size to haul him. The second horse, a gray one, was closer to the size of Don Cameron and the rider was a pure cowboy.
“Good morning,” Jolene said smiling.
Both cowboys doffed their hats and held them against their chests.
The rider on the gray horse was built like a running back, and extremely handsome. Jolene figured every cowgirl in the county was after him. He spoke first.
Ma’am, you must be Miz Jolene, I’m Tobias Rutledge, everybody calls me TR. On closer inspection, she saw he was older than he appeared, probably close to mid-forties.
The largest one, at least six five and three hundred or so pounds, grinned at her. She said. “You must be Butter Billy Three.”
Yes, ma’am, that’s me. This big ole horse is named Kenworth. I’m pleased to meet you, ma’am.”
“Miz Jolene, Mr. Carson told us Mr. Burns is riding Don Cameron. I’ve worked around that horse since it was a colt. And I thought Lyon Hamilton was the only man who could handle him. He put me on my butt a couple of times. Mr. Carson also told us why you folks are here. Count me in for anything I can do. Butter here feels the same way.”
“Yes, ma’am Mr. Lyon was like family to me. Between him and Mr. Carson, I had two daddies. So it didn’t matter that my real one left. I’ll do anything I can. I expect you and Mr. Burns will hear from Miguel and Estella too.”
“Thank you, gentlemen. Thank you very much. I need to give you both a piece of advice. Don’t call Andy Burns mister.”
“Ma’am we’ll do our best to remember that.”
“I can tell you both have wonderful manners. And I love the way you cowboys remove your hats. But please, I’m Jolene or Jo. And both of you can drop the ma’am business.”
“Yes, ma’am Miz Jo.” Butter Billy said.
“Would you gentlemen like some ice tea? I just made it; it’s southern style.”
“Thank you, ma’am that would be nice.”
Jolene smiled and went into the casita and came back carrying a tray with a picture of tea and three glasses full of ice. She sat it on the picnic table and poured the tea. Both men dismounted and ground tied their horses.
Butter Billy was the first one to take a sip. “Wow, it’s sweet, and sure is good. Is that how southern folks make their ice tea, with sugar?”
“A lot of them make it both sweet and unsweet. It gives folks a choice. What kind of horse is Kenworth Billy?”
“Ma’am he’s a Belgian. I gotta have one his size; I’m too big for a quarter horse.”
“Is he something like a Clydesdale?”
“Yes, ma’am he’s a draft horse. He’s a couple a hundred pounds smaller than a Clyde, maybe a little more. And he doesn't have feathers on his feet either.”
“Feathers, like in bird feathers.”
“Oh no, ma’am that’s what they call that hair around a Clyde’s feet.”
Jolene started to say something, but she saw Andy Burns riding up. He stopped Don Cameron and got off, ground tying him like the others.
“Andy, this is TR and Butter Billy Three. They came over to join the posse. I’ll go get another glass.” Jolene said.
The Cowboys introduced themselves, and both talked about Burns riding Don Cameron until Butter Billy noticed the knife on Andy’s belt. TR was studying the rifle scabbard tied to Don Cameron’s saddle.
Burns carried the knife almost horizontal on his left hip. He unsheathed it and handed it to Butter Billy handle first. Both men thoroughly examined the knife. Burns observed that neither one appeared to notice his holstered pistol.
“Burns Made,” Butter Billy said, reading the etching on the blade. “Did you make this?”
“Yes.”
“Wow, you ride Don Cameron and make knives. Mr. Carson says you fly airplanes, how cool is that?”
“If you made that rifle scabbard hanging on Don Cameron you ain’t a half bad saddle maker either?” TR said.
“I made the scabbard, but I’ve never made a saddle. So don’t insult a saddle maker by calling me one.”
“What kind of rifle are you hiding in that scabbard Mr. Andy.”
“One I built. It’s a .338 Lapua, I use a 300-grain bullet running around 2700 feet per second.”
“You built your rifle?” Butter Billy asked.
“Yes.”
“Can we see it?”
“Sure,” Andy answered. He walked over to Don Cameron and removed the rifle from the scabbard. He ejected the magazine and pulled back the charging handle to check the chamber. Satisfied it was unloaded, he folded down the bipod and placed the rifle on the picnic table for the two cowboy’s inspection.
Jolene handed him a glass of tea. Burns patiently answered questions about the gun. And the knife. He tactfully stayed away from the cost of the items. And didn’t mention his airplane was a jet. He was more interested in learning about the Rocking H Bar and when the duo was going to check the cattle. And Mr. Andy would be welcome to ride with them anytime.
Ivalou Vargas checked the towels in the Motel 6 room and selected the one she believed the cleanest. She wrapped it around her butt and upper legs. She sat on top of the second choice towel placed on the edge of the bed. Ron Kroll occupied the only chair.
“Kroll you and your fetish for miniskirts and is a pain in the ass.”
“You mean a pain in the bare ass,” Kroll said smiling. She flipped him off.
“It’s not bare, asshole I’ve got on real underwear.”
“What no thong? What kind of hooker are you?”
“A phony one.” A middle finger display accompanied this remark.
“You picked the seediest motel in town so don’t complain about the quantity of DNA on the bed spread.”
“You could keep that in mind when you made your choices of my attire.”
“Hey, we gotta keep it looking real.”
“I get any more real looking, and Desmond & M&M are going to have to walk me to the door and stand outside.”
“You do look real. Look good too.”
“Kroll I’m going to kick your ass.”
“Promises all I get is promises.”
And another bird. Vargas explained they had found accommodations at the only extended stay motel in Nogales. And it wasn’t bad. The Motel 6 was the local hooker haven so it would work for their meetings. She enjoyed the banter but got down to business.
“Havelee Harris is in Arizona. She will be down here in a couple of days. She has to check in with the field offices. I’ve got her booked into the same motel where the rest of us are staying. It’s close to here and not bad for our purposes. It’s not as seedy as those places can be. I do know she wants to meet you. She knows how we get in touch. Now, what have you learned about this ranch.”
; “Bradford laughs and says he made the owner an offer he couldn’t refuse. I think they buried the real owner on the property somewhere. Bradford would not part with the kind of cash it would take to buy a place like that and then leave it for the millions he claims El Jefe will pay. I got a chance to look around the so-called ranch office. You already know the place is called the Rocking H Bar. The only name I find associated with it is Lyon Hamilton. We need to know all we can about the ranch and Hamilton. I’ve lifted a business card and a flyer on a stud horse.”
Ivalou was recording the conversation. “I’ll get the guys started on the research. We got the GPS coordinates during the drive by recon. Havelee will get them to the helicopter pilots in Phoenix. I think she needs to get the helicopter moved closer. Tell me about the help.”
Bradford has a staff of two white thugs and four Mexicans. With me, there are eight people there. Two of the Mexicans left this morning. The white guys are a couple of pieces of work. One is called Pauli Dumas. AKA Porn Dude. I made the mistake of asking how he got his handle. The freak reached inside his sweats and hauled it out. That sure as hell ain’t normal. The guy could satisfy a horse. Inbred and gross come to mind.
The other one is Nathan Norman AKA Numb Nuts. That is the guy I put down in the casino bar. He is still recovering from a cracked sternum. I asked him why he was called Numb Nuts. He said it was because he had been kicked in the balls so much he didn’t feel it anymore. Bradford told me it was because he wasn’t the brightest bulb on the tree. Numb Nuts keeps talking about getting even who sucker punched him. I don’t think he knows it was me. Porn Dude is supposed to be a computer genius. We’ve got to keep our hooker game looking real. In case that guy has a way to get on my phone.”
“What about livestock on the ranch?”
“I have only seen dried droppings. Bradford says he made a deal with the neighboring rancher to let his Cowboys look out for the herd. He didn’t want anyone complaining about animal abuse. He said they are not allowed to approach the area around the main house. The Mexicans patrol on ATV’s to make sure.”
Are you going to have any trouble leaving the place for meetings?”
“I told Bradford I would come to work for him, but I wasn’t staying on a ranch in the middle of nowhere all the time. I said I had to get laid and party. And working for him wasn’t going to happen if I couldn’t come and go when nothing was happening.”
“Some of those women on Backpage advertise outcalls where they go to the customer. Is it possible we could pull off me coming down there for an outcall? That way I could see the place up close.”
“That’s an idea; it would have to be when I have the place to myself. Right now I can’t see that happening. Besides we are using an outcall text message for the, I need to be extracted help code. And you don’t need to show up looking like a hooker with that freak Porn Dude around. Bradford makes the guy wait in the car when they go somewhere. He says Dumas has some freaky oversexed problem and has tried dry humping women in restaurants.”
“Yuck!”
“I would say screw this operation and kill him if he put his hands on you.”
“Why Ron how sweet and macho.” She said sarcastically.
“Ivalou, I like you professionally, and I would like to get to know you personally when this is over.”
“I knew you had an ulterior motive for miniskirts and thongs.”
“I like your smart ass attitude.”
“It’s a nice ass too. I know you watch it every chance you get. Do Numb Nuts and the freak ever leave the ranch?”
“Yes, they appear to be Bradford’s protection detail. Bradford rides in the back seat of an SUV, Porn Dude drives and Numb Nuts rides shotgun. They are more for his ego than they are guards. Cartel thugs wouldn’t consider them a threat.”
“Maybe that’s why he hired you.”
“That is what I’m thinking.”
“It sure would be nice to have a good look at the place. Think you could take some phone pictures.”
“I will try.”
Ivalou looked at her notes and then the time on her phone.
“Well big boy, bang the bed for ten seconds and yell oh baby a few times so the neighbors will think you got some. I need to go. I’ve got more clients to see, real hombres, not limp dick make-believe cowboys.” She put her notebook in her purse.
Vargas stopped at the door and gave Kroll her come hither look. “And I would like to see you when I’m off duty as well.” She left the door open when she left the room. Kroll watched her walk away. He heard some catcalls from local males hanging around the motel. The door opened on the pimped up Escalade, M&M got out and fixed the catcallers with a mean glare. Ivalou flipped them the bird.
What a woman, Kroll thought as he watched.
Chapter Thirteen
Burns and Burrito Cruz left the casita at 7 AM. They rode in the old dual wheel one-ton pickup truck pulling a horse trailer complete with a couple of horses. Burns drove. The trailer was beat up like the truck. To anyone looking, they were working cowboys. Their clothes were sun bleached and could stand washing. Both wore sweat stained cowboy hats that had seen better days. Along with the hat, Burns wore wraparound sunglasses and a ragged scarf. Taking their time, and the long way around, they entered the Rocking H Bar ranch road just after 7:30.
Burns spotted the fence post with the horseshoe nailed to it. He stopped beside that post, with the truck blocking anyone from seeing the post from the house. Andy scanned the area for anyone out and about. Both men got out of the truck, and Cruz ambled toward the house in a bowlegged gait that wasn’t fake. Despite his years behind a badge, Burrito Cruz was a ranch hand. As Cruz hailed the house, shouting anybody home.
Andy removed the protective cover from the adhesive on the back of the modified horseshoe in he carried. It looked exactly like the one nailed to the post. He quickly and carefully pressed over the modified shoe against the one on the fence. Burns then turned and leaned over the hood of the truck taking in the headquarters house and the surrounding buildings. Recalling the clandestine dash cam videos taken by Buddy Russell, Andy placed everything with his own eyes. A hillside behind the headquarters area. There was also a water tank and windmill that he didn’t remember from the video. Burns spotted another horseshoe on the side of the tank.
A familiar man wearing a T-shirt with a casino logo and work pants came out of the house. Burns noticed the imprint of a pistol the man carried in his waistband covered by the T-shirt. Andy shifted his position slightly to access the pistol he carried.
“Morning!” Cruz said.
“It’s a good one. What can I do for fellows today?” Ron Kroll replied.
“We need work. Part time all the time whatever you may have. We’re good hands and have our horses.” Cruz nodded toward the trailer. One of the horses decided it was a good time to show his impatience by stomping the trailer floor. The sudden noise startled Kroll. Cruz gestured with his thumb over his shoulder toward Burns.
“My partner back there is a horse shoe’er to.”
Kroll looked at them. His gaze lingered on Andy for a moment longer than it did on Cruz.
“Fellows we have a full crew right now. But I appreciate you coming by here. Is there some place I could reach you if things change?”
Burrito Cruz had anticipated that question and pulled an old feed receipt from his shirt pocket. With a pencil stub, he laboriously wrote his given name Benito Cruz along with a number on it. He handed the paper to Kroll. Kroll thanked him and said he would call if things changed. Cruz added they were going to check with some of the other ranches in the valley. Burns got back in the truck and cranked the motor as Cruz got in. They both waved at Kroll when as Andy turned the truck and trailer around. As they reached the end of the ranch road, Burns received a text from Jolene. He had read it before he turned the truck onto the forest service road.
It’s working. White male in the T-shirt is still watching you guys.
“You wanna tell m
e what is all fired important about that horseshoe you worried with all the way down here, and you don’t have it anymore,” Cruz said.
Burns laughed and showed Burrito the text. The detective cowboy turned used car salesman and PI looked at it for a few seconds trying to comprehend what it meant.
“SONOFABITCH IT’S A CAMERA!”
“Go to the head of the class. It’s a wireless daylight and night infrared solar powered wide angle unit I put in that horseshoe. It transmits to a private web address. I’ve got a few more ready to put out when we find a place.”
“Won’t they notice the horseshoe wherever it is you put it?”
“Not likely, I stuck it over one already nailed to the fence. I noticed it when I watched the video Buddy took when he came by looking for a real estate listing.”
“I saw that video and I sure as hell didn’t see no horseshoe nailed to a fence.”
“That’s because you weren’t looking for one. Bet you didn’t see the one on the side of the water tank either.”
“Hell no, and this looking for a job scam ain’t gonna work twice. How you gonna put one of your fakes on the water tank?”
“First off, it is not a fake horseshoe. I got some old ones out of my barn and put the cameras in them. Put all weather double-sided adhesive tape on the back. I turned on the camera and stuck it on top the existing horseshoe.”
“Damn, I gotta see one up close.”
“I’ll show them to you.”
“The half-breed said you were one sneaky cowboy. Anything to you being the real La Migra El Con Riflie?”
“Nothing they ever proved,” Burns said. He drove the truck and enjoyed the San Rafael morning.
At the casita, Burns drove the truck around to the barn. He unloaded the horses and turned them out to the corrals. A whinny from the barn told him somebody wanted attention. Andy was met by the Border Collie, Jazz, as he entered the barn. The dog sat and waited to be petted, which happened. They made their way back to the corral stall where Don Cameron waited his turn. Burns stroked the horse's nose and rubbed his neck. He spoke softly to the big animal.
“I just came from your old home big guy. Nice. I’d be mad too if somebody run me off a place like that. But I expect your fit throwing was more about losing the cowboy who raised you. I thought Major was the best horse I could get. Now that I’ve met you I know I was wrong. You are the best. And we are going to find your cowboy and bring him home.”