San Rafael Jacked

by Tom Ellis

  “Open the gate and come on up,” Bell said. The agents approached the porch somewhat warily.

  “Unless there’s a rattler laying out in the yard there’s nothing up here that bites,” Carson added recognizing the apprehension and noticing the tell a tale bulges of weapons underneath their jackets. Desmond Taylor looked apprehensively at the ground near his feet.

  Carson got out of his chair and greeted the agents when they stepped onto the porch. “Welcome to the Double B I’m Carson Bell.”

  Havelee pulled out her credentials and presented them to Bell. “I’m FBI Special Agent Harris. This lady is Special Agent Vargas; these gentlemen are Special Agents Taylor and Morris.”

  Bell shook hands with all four of them. He removed his hat when he shook hands with the women.

  “Pleased to meet you folks, have a seat and tell me what I’ve done to get a visit from the FBI. Especially two as pretty as you ladies. The bureau has certainly more pleasant people than the last ones I saw.”

  “What reason did you have to see an FBI agent Mr. Bell?” Havelee asked.

  “Ms. Harris, I was an Air Force pilot. As a young man, I flew Forward Air Control missions in Viet Nam. After two tours I was transferred to Air Transport Command. Essentially that is the Air Force’s airline. I flew T-45’s which are Cessna Citation business jets. We would on occasions have FBI agents on our passenger manifests. They were always serious looking types. That was over thirty years ago. They didn’t have any pretty ones like you back then. I’m an old white haired cowboy wearing a big hat now. I can get away with saying that.” Carson smiled at Havelee.

  “Somehow Mr. Bell I don’t think you are all hat and no cattle.” She smiled back.

  “Spoken like a westerner. Are you from this side of the Mississippi River?”

  Mr. Bell. I grew up on a ranch in Oklahoma and this valley reminds me of home.”

  “It should; they filmed the movie Oklahoma near here on the original San Rafael Ranch. The family that owned the ranch donated it to the state. It has been a location for several movies.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Havelee answered.

  “I’ll sit here and talk about the San Rafael all day. What can I help the FBI with?”

  “We are looking into the disappearance of Lyon Hamilton.

  “Well, it’s about time somebody besides me believes he’s missing. That idiot sheriff doesn’t. My lawyer who is also Lyon’s lawyer, J.P. Williams in Nogales, said the sheriff would not take a missing person report. He won’t do it because his crooked deputy Willie Hillman went over to the Rocking H Bar and got in bed with those bastards. He’s as queer as a three-dollar bill. Pardon me ladies and you gentlemen, I am not politically correct when it comes to crooked cops.”

  “How long have you known Lyon Hamilton?”

  “We went to high school together. Lyon went to the Navy for a hitch. I got a scholarship to go to Arizona State. My brother was the rancher. Lyon came back from the Navy straight to the Rocking H Bar. His grandparents left him the place. I would visit with him when I was home on leave. We got reacquainted after I retired and moved back here. Our wives passed away within a year of each other. Here comes somebody else that tell you about Lyon. Tobias Rutledge, he’s one of my hands now. TR was working for Lyon when he went missing.”

  All the agents turned to see TR ride up to the ranch fence and dismount. He tethered the gray to a hitching post. Vargas was the only one who noticed Havelee’s sharp intake of breath. TR opened the gate and walked confidently to the porch. He wore a faded tan work shirt, sweat stained Stetson hat, worn and scraped shotgun chaps over faded Wrangler jeans, and packer boots with riding heels and spurs attached. A large blue plaid scarf was around his neck. A small horizontal sheathed knife wore cross draw fashion on his belt. When he reached the porch, TR removed his leather gloves.

  “TR these are FBI agents, introduce yourself.” Carson Bell said.

  The agents all got up from their seats. Desmond and M&M were the closest.

  “Desmond Taylor,” Des extended his hand, “Pleased to meet you.”

  “Likewise, Tobias Rutledge.”

  “Mickey Morris, Mr. Rutledge, I’ve never seen a real cowboy. Man, your outfit is just too cool.” M&M said shaking hands with TR.

  “Thank you, Mr. Morris but days like today it’s just plain hot.”

  The men smiled, and TR stepped over to the women. Havelee, face flushed, almost stuttered when she extended her hand.

  “Havelee Harris.” She managed to say.

  TR removed his hat with his left hand and held it over his chest. He took Havelee’s hand.

  “Tobias Rutledge ma’am folks call me TR. And if you won’t arrest me for saying, you are too cute to be an FBI agent.”

  “Ivalou Vargas,” Ivalou said extending her hand.

  TR shook it and said. “Ivalou and Havelee, those are the two neatest girl names I’ve ever heard. Mr. Carson, did you check these ladies’ badges? They are just too pretty to be cops.”

  “TR, you aren’t old and white haired like me, you might get handcuffed for saying that.”

  Havelee reached in her jacket pocket for her credentials and fumbled the move dropping the creds. Red faced, she reached down for them. TR was faster; he scooped up the folder first. Opening the credential wallet, he examined the picture.

  “You’re better looking in person.” He said handing Havelee her credentials.

  “Th-thank you,” she said blushing like a school girl.

  “Desmond, why don’t you and M&M interview Tobias. I see some chairs on the other end of the porch.” Ivalou said giving Havelee time to regain her composure.

  The agents and the cowboy walked to opposite end of the verandah. Havelee whispered, “Thanks,” to Ivalou. Carson Bell noticed Harris’ reaction and heard the exchange.

  “I see you are a bit taken with my cowboy Agent Harris.” He said with a wry smile.

  “Speechless is more like it,’ Ivalou said as she calmly picked up the interview.

  “When did you learn Mr. Hamilton was missing?” She asked.

  “Several months back when a valuable stud horse he owns showed up right where your car is parked. The horse was saddled and all lathered up from running hard. Lyon’s Border Collie was standing beside him in the same shape as the horse. Lyon would never let Don Cameron out like that. My ranch hand got him unsaddled and settled in a corral. I tried calling and got no answer that evening. I drove over there the next morning. I was greeted by AK-47 carrying thugs and told in no uncertain terms not to come back. I called the sheriff. That jackass Hillman went over there to investigate. He came back here and told me Lyon Hamilton had sold the ranch and moved to the Fiji Islands. Hillman then told me the new owner said I could have the horse and dog as a neighborly gesture. Because his help treated me rudely. An AK-47pointed at you is a little more than treated rudely. Hillman also told me I would be arrested for trespass if I ever went back over there.”

  “Do you still have the horse and dog?”

  “Yes, you can’t sell a horse like that in this state without papers. And this so called new owner didn’t bother to send the papers. The dog is the same way. He is out of a championship line of border collies.”

  “I gather from your tone you don’t think the new owner is a legitimate rancher.”

  “No, I don’t. Bradford is his name, and he hasn’t got a clue what a ranch is all about. I ran into him a couple of times in a casino bar a few months before Don Cameron and Jazz showed up over here. I had a little too much to drink the first time I talked to him, and I was grousing about that moron in the White House saying our borders are secure.

  “Bradford showed up a few weeks later and said he would let my cowboys work his cattle and split the profit at sale time. He said my men could come over and check the herd, but they have to stay away from the main house and barns. That is not a problem because the herd is on the east side of the ranch. The scary part is there is always an AK47 toting guard watching
from an ATV when my guys are over there.”

  “How many hands do you have Mr. Bell?” Havelee asked getting back in the game.

  “Three, TR, Butter Billy three, and Miguel. Estella, Miguel’s wife, is my cook and housekeeper. Here she comes now.”

  Estella came out of the house carrying a tray with cookies, lemonade, tea, and coffee. She sat the tray on the table between them. She smiled, went back into the house and came out with a similar tray for the group on the other end of the porch.

  “I don’t want to hear about or see any of this; no thank you, professional nonsense out of you ladies or your men on the other end of the porch. Help yourselves and if you don’t, you can leave.” Bell said as he poured a glass of lemonade.

  The women politely indulged. Havelee glanced at the far end of the porch and saw Des and M&M were partaking as well.

  “What kind of name is Butter Billy three?” Ivalou asked.

  “His full name is William Edward Butterfield the Third. He is one of the largest cowboys you will find in the saddle. He rides a saddle broke Belgian gelding he calls Kenworth. And he is one of the best windmill men in southern Arizona. I constantly get calls for him to fix somebodies windmill. He’s over in Cochise County today working on one.

  “Clarify something for me,” Havelee asked. “Who are Don Cameron and Jazz?”

  “Lyon’s quarter horse stud, Don Cameron of Lochiel, is Cam’s registered name. The dog’s registered name is Jazzman of Lochiel. Lyon called the horse Cam or Don Cam. Miguel is one of the best vaqueros this side of the border. He barely got the saddle off Cam before the animal came unglued. All anybody can do is put feed and hay in the corral. That animal went from manageable too wild on his run from the Rocking H Bar to here. The dog is the same. Both of them raise hell charge the fence and everything else. I’ve never seen a horse act that way.”

  “You said you still have them?”

  “Yes, I still have them, but they are not in one of these barns. Lyon boarded horses for folks. This guy Bradford ran all the borders out. There were thirteen of them. Ten of them are here now. I took them in. There are three mares in the lot and being ranch raised you ought to know about studs and mares in heat. Miguel was able to trick the horse and the dog into to following him to another barn on the other side of the ranch. I’ve got printed information on him with pictures that Lyon gave me if that will help you.”

  “That would be great.”

  Bell returned and handed a color printed flyer to Havelee.

  “Wow, he is drop dead beautiful! A honey buckskin with blue eyes, gosh I love that mane! And his tail almost drags the ground.” She said looking at the picture. Vargas was looking over her shoulder reading the flyer.

  “That horse gets five grand to get some!” She exclaimed when she saw the stud fee. Bell stepped back inside the house, and Vargas whispered to Havelee.

  “I bet TR doesn’t charge near that much.”

  Havelee swatted at Vargas with the back of her hand saying, “I guarantee he hasn’t got one long enough to charge that much either.”

  “Girl you have a dirty mind.”

  “That’s the pot calling the kettle black.”

  Carson reappeared before the agents could even giggle. He took his seat and handed Havelee some pictures of Lyon Hamilton riding Don Cameron and some pictures of the horse's different offspring.

  “I know why you don’t believe Lyon Hamilton is missing. No horseman would sell out and leave an animal like this to run off under saddle to another ranch.

  “Mr. Bell, has anyone working on behalf of Hamilton’s family, a private investigator maybe, been by here inquiring about Mr. Hamilton?” Havelee asked.

  “I talked to my lawyer, of course, I told you he was Lyon’s lawyer as well. J.P. Williams in Nogales told me Lois Thornton, Lyon’s sister, contacted him a month or so ago in regards to Lyon and what was going on at the ranch. She asked for recommendations about private investigators out here. J.P. gave me her phone number and address in Alabama. Lois’ husband is a retired Air Force General. Last time I saw them, he was in line for another star.”

  “Would you give us that information sir? We need to contact Mrs. Thornton.”

  “Sure, if you will excuse me again.” Carson Bell went back into the house. It appeared Desmond and M&M were finishing up. Bell returned with a piece of paper containing Lois Thornton’s information.”

  “Mr. Bell, thank you for your time and the refreshments. We will do our best to find out what happened to Mr. Hamilton. And we will likely be back to see you.” Havelee said.

  “I couldn’t be so lucky that either one of you would come back to see an old man like me. But if you call ahead of time I’ll make sure TR is here to see you.”

  Havelee blushed she noticed that Desmond and M&M were now standing shaking hands with TR. She and Vargas walked toward their car. Havelee stopped to look at TR’s horse. He was a muscular dapple gray quarter horse with a big powerful rump. The saddle was a working rig, slick seat high cantle, doubled rigged. A lever action rifle in a saddle scabbard, a lariat was tied down next to the saddle. Horn bags, a cantle bag, a pair of fence pliers hung in a holster made for them. She was patting the horse’s neck when TR appeared beside her.

  “You ride?”

  “Not in the past few years. I grew up on a ranch. I know how.”

  “Hop up there I will adjust the stirrups when you get your seat.”

  “I can’t ride today.”

  “Yes, you can. I’ll give you a boost.”

  Her special agent’s poise went away, and she raised her leg. TR caught her foot in one and calf in the other. She didn’t have time to hop on the other leg before he hoisted her up. Once in the saddle, he adjusted the stirrup length until she was comfortable.

  “If he comes back without you, I’ll come looking,” TR said and patted the horse's neck. Havelee turned him away toward the ranch buildings.

  Desmond and M&M walked up and stopped beside Vargas. All three were watching Havelee ride the horse. She was walking him in a circle.

  “You guys can head back to town if you like,” Vargas said.

  “And miss seeing her bust her ass. Not a chance.” M&M said.

  Havelee changed directions with the horse and trotted him down the ranch road. Her blond hair moved in the breeze. She sat the trot like a veteran cowhand. Once she was out of site Vargas commented, “I’d of fell off before I got to the barn.”

  “I wouldn’t have got up there in the first place. I’m not getting on anything that has four legs and is bigger than me.” Desmond said.

  “Personally, I prefer two wheels. I wish I had my scooter here. This motorcycle country.” M&M added.

  They heard the horse’s hooves on the dirt and turned to see Havelee canter the gray down the driveway. She pulled him in a slide stop, turned and walked him to the hitching post. Harris vaulted out of the saddle and landed lightly on her feet.

  “That was fun, thank you.” She said to TR touching him on the arm.

  “You are welcome back anytime; he is one of my working horses. You can ride him or the other one. And Mr. Carson’s got a string of nice geldings too. I love to show you the ranch.”

  Havelee took a card from her pocket and wrote a number on the back.

  “My private cell number is on the back. We will be working out of Nogales for the foreseeable future. Give me a call. I’ll take you up on your offer.” She smiled and touched his arm again.

  Turning back toward her vehicle Havelee was relieved to see Desmond and M&M were back in their truck. She got in the passenger side. Ivalou got in the driver’s seat and started the car. Once they started down the ranch road, she looked over at Havelee.

  “When you gonna get laid girlfriend?”

  Harris flipped her the bird. “Vargas you been undercover as a whore too long.”

  Ivalou laughed.

  Jolene and Andy walked with TR and Butter Billy back to the old Jeep FC170.

  “We appreciate yo
u guys coming over and bringing the steaks. That was some of the best meat I’ve ever eaten,” Jolene said.

  “You are welcome ma’am you sure know how to grill them. That is San Rafael Valley Grass feed beef. It comes from another ranch here in the valley. The lady rancher sells it in local stores.” TR answered.

  “That was some fine cooking Miz Jo; you need a chuck wagon.” Butter Billy said.

  “Thank you, it was nothing fancy. Estella can out cook me in a heartbeat.”

  “You guys need to come to Alabama and let her grill some bass for you.” Burns offered.

  “Never been there. You get many tornados where you live?”

  “We get a lot of watches and warnings hurricanes are a big worry as well. We live a few miles inland from the Gulf. I sure like this truck. Think I could talk Carson Bell out of it?” Burns said.

  “You’d have to Miguel to keep it running. And Estella probably wouldn’t move to Alabama.”

  Burns laughed. “I don’t think they’ve made these things since the fifties. I would like to drive it before we leave.”

  “Now we can make that happen.”

  “OK guys, thanks for bringing the meat. We will do it again. Let us get back to Burrito and Buddy.”

  They walked back to the fire ring in front of the casita. Russell and Cruz were sitting beside a nice fire.

  “Think those boys could help us any?” Cruz asked.

  “Probably, I believe we can trust them. It worries me that TR is making eyes with that FBI agent, Havelee Harris. I build a rifle for her once. And I wouldn’t put it past her to use her charms on TR. I don’t want him spilling the beans about us being here and what we’re doing.”