Doing Time In Texas, Book 2

by James E Ferrell

  Thomas walked back to where the two sat. “I don’t have a good feeling about this,” he said.

  “Quit whining! Look at Baker; do you think he is worried? He’s over there sleeping like a baby,” Ed said.

  C46 - Time to Kill

  The evening slowly turned into night and the tension mounted. Ed had smoked a pack of cigarettes waiting through the long hot evening. Standing up he flipped his cigarette into the canal and said, “Wake him up and let’s get this show on the road.”

  Bart walked over to the tree. “Hey Baker, the sun has gone down. Are we going to do this or not?” he asked.

  Straightening himself Willy sat for a while letting the cobwebs clear his mind. A sigh of relief came as he realized the headache had gone. Crawling out from under the low hanging tree branches, he walked down to the canal and washed the sweat from his face. Running his wet fingers through his thick black hair he looked up at the night sky. This is what he had been waiting for all these years. Win or lose, there is no turning back now. “It is time to move. We might as well get started,” Willy said.

  “We will all have holes in our shoes from the walking we are about to do,” Ed said.

  “This canal runs right by the farm and there is a boat concealed in the brush over there. There is enough current to get us there by midnight,” Willy said.

  “Well, you don’t need me to drive anymore, why don’t you leave me here to watch the truck?” Thomas asked.

  “Fat chance of that! If we returned on the run, you would be gone with the truck! Let’s get started,” Ed said.

  “Bart, the oars are in that dead tree trunk over there,” Willy said, as he pulled a boat from under the brush. After the other three were situated in the boat, Bart slid the boat into the water. The small boat sat deep in the water from the heavy load as the current carried them down the canal.

  “Baker this boat is about to sink! You should have gotten a bigger boat,” Bart said.

  “Anything bigger would have been easy to spot and hard to conceal. Sit still and be quiet. I know what I’m doing,” Willy said.

  C47 - Austin Line

  “Ihad a talk with her today. I suspected she knows nothing about what Baker is up to. I have a ranger in Houston trying to get a line on where he went. His wife says he is in Houston on business and will be home in a couple of days. Then he would get in touch with me,” Cage said into the receiver.

  “That is interesting,” said the captain. “Whatever he is up to must be going down now…find him and bring him in. If he is wearing a gun, pick him up on parole violation.”

  “Captain, I just dropped Annie and Bonnie off at the diner for breakfast. Guess I might as well join them, I will get back to you later,” Cage added.

  “Okay, let me know if the situation changes,” Captain Eastman replied.

  A few minutes later Cage and Lightfoot walked across the courthouse square. “The captain found our man in a motel in Houston. He checked in a couple of days ago,” Cage said.

  “You sure it’s Baker?” Lightfoot questioned.

  “It’s him all right. He registered as Willy Baker and the night clerk saw a picture in his billfold of a black haired beauty with Love, Bonnie written across the picture,” Cage related.

  “He is alone? I should go check him out,” Lightfoot said.

  “His wife said he will be back here tomorrow. There are a couple of rangers checking out his business dealings in Houston. If they come up with something, they will let us know. Let’s go and have breakfast with his wife and Annie,” Cage said.

  “This is strange, Cage. We are going to have breakfast with a woman whose husband we are keeping under surveillance,” Lightfoot said.

  Looking at Lightfoot, Cage smiled and said, “We can’t keep up with her husband so maybe we can keep up with her.”

  “Speak for yourself, Paleface. I do pretty well when I’m not handicapped with the Junior Ranger Department.”

  Cage laughed as the two walked to the diner.

  C48 - Four Minus One

  Looking out the window of the diner, McDonald watched the rain falling in sheets, as the wind whipped the rain drops against the glass. It was one of those tropical storms that raced across the Gulf of Mexico dumping several inches of rain in a matter of minutes.

  “It’s hot as blazes one minute…now it’s raining. Man, this heat is bad when you’re not used to it,” McDonald stated.

  “It’s the humidity, Boss. After a rain in hot weather it gets muggy,” Smitty said.

  McDonald responded quickly, “Muggy, muggy, what does muggy mean? Is that a Texas term? I want to get the merchandise out of here; I need to get back up north where it’s cool!”

  “Actually, it’s not all that hot yet. It’s still early in the year,” said Smitty.

  “Yeah, I know. It’s just muggy,” McDonald said.

  Smitty grinned. He was not in any hurry to head north. He remembered the blistering cold they had left two weeks before. Smitty said, “Boss, remember I told you Binky called you a couple of hours ago. He called again just before you came in. He wouldn’t talk to me. He needs to talk to you. Says its urgent. You also got a call from Val. He says Hadley wants to get in touch with you. Hadley left a message with Val. Says he knows where Baker is and wants to make a deal for the information…Val said to tell you it would cost you plenty.”

  McDonald grinned past his big cigar and said, “Get Val on the phone now, I want to talk to Hadley.” A few minutes later Smitty returned to the table.

  “Boss, Hadley will call you back in your room in fifteen minutes. You need to call your accountant while you’re at it,” Smitty said.

  McDonald exclaimed, “Oh, what does Binky want? He can be such a pain! You boys stay here and wait for me.” When McDonald opened the door to his room the phone was ringing.

  “What you got, Hadley?” he asked in a gruff voice.

  “Well, ‘Merry Christmas’ to you McDonald…I got a present for you,” Hadley stated smugly.

  “Cut the crap! It ain’t Christmas and what you got ain’t free,” McDonald barked back at Hadley.

  “How bad you want this bum you been looking for?” Hadley asked.

  “Ten big ones for you, assuming the information is right,” McDonald said.

  “That’s generous! You must want him mighty bad…I was expecting a lot less!” Hadley said in amazement.

  “What you got, Hadley?” McDonald asked angrily.

  “My chief got a call yesterday about this Baker guy. He is being investigated by the Texas Rangers. The chief sent us looking for a loser he contacted here in Chicago by the name of Billy something. He didn’t know anything, but your man is in a burg called Huntsville. Seems he did time in a prison there. Maybe he is homesick,” laughed Hadley.

  “Huntsville, Texas! What’s the heat want with Baker?” McDonald asked more to himself than in the phone.

  Hadley’s voice cracked again in the receiver, saying, “There have been a few murders there in Texas and he is the only suspect.”

  “Willy? He don’t have the stomach for that. I will make a call for you Hadley; go get your money at the usual place. This better be good information, if not I will see you in Chicago. I would have paid twice that for the information,” McDonald said.

  McDonald came back in the diner and sat down with his men. “Smitty, how far is Huntsville, Texas, from here?” he asked.

  “I don’t know, Boss. Never heard of the place,” Smitty said.

  “Well, you have now…get a map or something…we have a friend there,” McDonald said with a grin. “I can’t believe that life can be so sweet. My old friend Willy is somewhere in this state.”

  “Boss, this is a big state, in case you haven’t noticed,” Smitty said.

  “The Texas Law is looking for him, too. I wonder what he is up to?” McDonald said.

  “Boss, this don’t feel right…if the cops are looking for him, maybe we better wait and get him at another time.”

  “What�
�s the matter? You scared of a bunch of cowboys? When we finish our business here, we will head for Huntsville. If they geot him, I will get him in jail. If they ain’t, I’ll find him, but I want him one way or the other!” McDonald stated.

  “Boss, I wonder what Willy is up to? I don’t like the coincidence that he’s in Texas. Maybe we need to move the trucks out now!” Smitty said.

  “Relax, Smitty, one of the trucks left today, the other two will leave tomorrow morning. Let’s get something to drink. I feel like celebrating!” McDonald said.

  “Did you get your accountant on the line?” Smitty asked.

  “I forgot…Binky is always whining about something. I’ll call him first thing in the morning. Just remind me, Smitty,” McDonald said.

  C49 - Fateful Night

  While McDonald celebrated his good fortune with his men, fifty miles north of Corpus Christi a small boat made its way down a canal that flowed by an old abandoned farmhouse.

  Hawkins placed several pieces of wood on a small fire and swatted an insect and said, “We need to get this place in better shape if we will be coming back here again. I don’t like these bugs. What kind of animals make all those noises out there in the dark? Everything around here stings, creeps, screeches or crawls. You got another bottle, Fred?”

  Fred Mayfield sat by the fire eating chili out of a skillet with stale crackers. Disgusted with having to listen to Hawkins, he frowned and said, “I don’t know which is worse, eating canned chili and crackers or listening to you. There’s another bottle in the tool shed. If you don’t want any of this chili, I think I will dump it in the canal.” Fred had driven trucks most of his adult life. He suffered from the long hours behind the wheel and a poorly set leg that had been broken years before. His weathered face resembled the road maps of the miles he had driven.

  “Fred, you have a cigarette?” Chubby asked.

  “Hawkins, I told you I…don’t…smoke,” Fred responded.

  “Oh, I forgot. What time we leaving in the morning?” Chubby kept asking questions.

  “As soon as the shooters get here, we leave. I’m tired of this place! These bugs are eating me alive! You better lay off the whisky, Hawkins. Your boss will be mad if he finds you drinking. As a matter of fact, that could get you killed. You came down here to drive. If the shooters smell liquor on you, they will tell McDonald,” Fred replied.

  That comment sobered Hawkins and convinced him he had had enough to drink. Tossing the half empty bottle to Fred, he said, “Throw this in the canal, too. I’m going to bed.”

  “Now, that’s a good idea,” Fred said.

  A gust of wind rocked the boat back and forth in the canal as Fred stood a few yards away and tossed the half empty pint of whisky in the water. The moon hadn’t come up yet or he would have seen the men sitting in the boat. Scraping the pan clean, Fred returned to sit by the fire.

  “That was close,” whispered Thomas as they all breathed a sigh of relief. Leaving the boat, the men followed Willy up the bank and into a wooded area away from the campfire. Willy made a wide circle that would lead them around the farm to the other side of the barn. A light rain began to fall as they made the far side of the barn. Once inside they stood listening to the rain intensify on the barn roof. Soaking wet, Ed cursed under his breath.

  “You have dry clothing in the panel truck. Quit complaining!” Willy whispered.

  Inside the barn the men made their way around the big trucks in the dark. Looking through the cracks in the barn wall they saw the smoking remains of the fire. The rain had driven Fred in for the night.

  “This rain may have helped to get the old man in the shed, but it made the gravel road slippery. We will have to be real careful getting out of here in the trucks,” Willy whispered. Noticing the windows down in the trucks Willy said, “Thomas crawl through the window make sure the keys are in the trucks, remove the interior lights and check the fuel gauges.”

  For another hour, the men waited in the barn watching the shed. Finally, the lantern in the shed went out and Willy looked at his watch.

  “Bart, you and Ed drive the lead truck. Thomas will take this one. I will lock the shed and disable the car they have behind the shed.”

  Willy left the barn and made his way around the shed. He found a car hidden back behind a clump of trees and stopped long enough to remove the distributor cap. The dark shed loomed out in front of him. Quietly he made his way through the high grass. Stopping at the rear of the shed he listened for any sound from within before easing around the side. He was about to step around the shed when Hawkins opened the door and stepped into the night air. The rain had stopped, and he wanted one last smoke before he went to bed. Stepping over to a tree not twenty feet from the shed he lit a cigarette and began relieving himself. The flash of the match temporally blinded Hawkins and gave Willy a minute to step back around the shed.

  In the barn Ed stood watching the figure of the portly man. Ed leveled his pistol at the figure standing next to a tree. Reaching over his shoulder Bart gently pushed the barrel of the gun down.

  “That hombre has had a lot to drink. He will be going to bed soon,” Bart said.

  Ed replied, “Just the same, I don’t like to leave them so they can follow after us.”

  “Relax! Let Willy handle this! If he can’t…we will,” Bart suggested. That seemed to relax Ed enough that he shrugged and shoved his pistol back in his belt.

  Sitting in the last truck Thomas watched the shadowy figures of Ed and Bart through the windshield. He began to tremble from the fear that was coursing through his body. Closing his eyes and gripping the steering wheel he shivered with terror. ‘O God! What am I doing here? If I live through this, I will never get involved in anything like this again! Thomas knew Ed and Bart would kill if anyone got in their way. He knew far too much about these men. His life was in jeopardy. How had he ever gone this far astray? He knew better than to hang with Ed and Bart. The easy road was always the path of least resistance for him. Now he was in one colossal mess and with no way out.

  Outside Hawkins flipped the cigarette in the wet road and went back in the shed. It began to rain again. The rain on the tin roof covered any noise Willy made with the latch. The hasp moved quietly and smoothly from the oil he had applied weeks before. Slipping a screwdriver in the hasp he eased a board out from the side of the shed and wedged it against the door. It didn’t take long for him to reach the barn. Stepping up to the barn doors he slowly opened first one door and then the other. Looking into the darkened barn he saw the faces in the first truck. Looking at his surroundings one more time, he turned to the truck and made a circular motion over his head. Instantly each engine of the trucks began to whine. The lead truck’s engine came to life and lurched forward.

  The engine of Thomas’ truck had not yet come to life. The whining gave Willy a sick feeling as he ran into the barn. Jumping up on the passenger side running board he heard the diesel catch, sputter and die. Again, Thomas wound up the big engine. This time it caught and black smoke billowing from the stacks filled the barn. Instantly the truck was moving. Thomas handled the big rig like a pro. Bart had the first truck clear of the barn and crossing in front of the shed when gun fire erupted in the shed as Hawkins tried to blow away the latch. The latch held, and the second truck was clear of the barn when gun fire erupted from the lead truck. They were firing at the shed trying to discourage the effort from within. Willy saw the board he had lodged against the door splinter from one of the shots directed at the shed.

  Shifting up, the big rig lurched, and the tractor tires spun slowly gaining speed. Shifting again Thomas worked the transmission to keep the wheels from spinning on the slick surface. Inside the shed Hawkins was finally able to shoot away the hasp and without the prop against the door came bursting from the shed firing wildly at the last truck. The first truck gained the road and picked up speed without any trouble. The second truck was a heavier rig. The heavy load and slick ground made it slow gaining momentum. Bullets began to g
lance off the cab as Hawkins came free of the shed. The shots were wild and did little damage. Hawkins panicked, seeing the trucks disappearing on the road. He had emptied his gun with little noticeable damage to the trucks. Grabbing a rifle from inside the shed, he got off one last shot at the fleeing trucks racing down the dirt road along the canal.

  “Get the car, Fred! They are getting away with the trucks!” Hawkins shrieked. Fred had already disappeared behind the shed when Hawkins reloaded and ran around to where the car was parked.

  “Let’s go, Man! They are getting away!” Hawkins shouted.

  “The car won’t crank; they did something to the motor. Hawkins we are in deep trouble; this will get us killed,” Fred yelled.

  Wringing his hands, Hawkins said, “Why didn’t you shoot? We may have stopped them!”

  “I’m not paid to shoot nobody! I just drive trucks,” Fred said.

  “You might wish you had used a gun when McDonald gets through with us!” Hawkins exclaimed.

  Fred replied, “I don’t kill people, Hawkins. If I had been smart, I would have never taken the easy money McDonald paid me to drive for him!”

  C50 - New Hope

  Sitting on the front porch of the small frame house in Darien, Georgia, Jerry listened to his mother. He knew he had an older sister and that she had left the year he had been born but time had dimmed his need to know about her. Now he sat watching his mother’s glowing face at the prospect of having her back in their lives again. Ginny wanted him to fully understand all about the sister he had never known. What he really wanted to know at his young age was about the horses and dogs his sister had on her ranch. It took little convincing to get him willing to head for Texas and the summer months were the best time to go.

  Cotton agreed to trade the old postal truck he had bought from the post office for the Wilkerson’s old car. Since Ben had been laid off, most of the furniture they had owned had been sold to meet their bills. What was left could be loaded into the old postal truck for the trip. Life had changed drastically since the letter had arrived yesterday. For Ginny there would be no more sleepless nights grieving over her lost child. Now her loss of sleep was because she was anxiously awaiting the reply from the letter she sent Bonnie.