Walker looked hard at the Sheriff. "Where's he staying?" he asked. His refusal to speak directly to Py was calculated disrespect.
Sheriff Miller looked at Py. "Do you want Frank to know where you're staying?"
Py shifted his weight a little and looked sheepishly at the Sheriff. "I don't really see why I should."
Walker tensed and seemed for a moment to move toward Py, but Sheriff Miller interceded. "He's fulfilled his obligations to the law by letting me know about his current residence," he said. "He doesn't have to tell anybody else and is well within his rights not to tell you." Walker glanced hotly at Py. It was irrational, the way he had suddenly focused so much hatred on this kid farmhand whom he'd never given a moment's thought to when he was in his employ. Sheriff Miller glanced between the two and thought of the absurdity that now linked them as foes. It wasn't a fair fight – Py was no match. More than that, Miller didn't see that Py was guilty of anything more than having made a mistake, though now it was possible that he could become trapped with Walker in a nightmare of justice that could go on as long as Walker cared to pursue the case. And Miller knew that Frank Walker was a tenacious man. He could chew on a bone for a long time before losing interest.
"I'm not through with you," said Walker, snarling through clinched teeth. "I don't like the company you keep. I don't like that I once had you on my property and
I'm not letting up on you until I can account for everything that happened while you were in my employ."
As Walker spoke, the door to the Sheriff’s office opened and in walked Jake, who had come looking for Py. Seeing him, Py shuffled uncomfortably and Walker, whose back was to Jake, noticed his movement and turned slowly to see what he was reacting to. He leveled a glare at Jake.
"Hello Frank," Jake said, but Walker didn't return the courtesy.
"Can I help you?" Sheriff Miller asked. He had never set eyes upon Jake before. "Just come lookin' for the boy," Jake said. "Did you do your business? You ready to go?" he asked Py, who said, "I'm ready."
Miller noticed the way Frank Walker glared at the stranger. "You two know each other?" he asked, open to an answer from either.
"His name's Jake Jobbs," Frank said, with a tone that sounded like condemnation. "I just fired him off my ranch."
Miller looked at Jake and nodded a neutral salutation. "I'm Ben Miller," he said, "County Sheriff."
"Pleasure," Jake said, nodding back.
There was a moment of nervous quiet, and then Py said – "Let's go, Jake."
Miller had unconsciously allowed an expression of consternation to settle on his face as he tried to piece together the triangular relationship he had there before him, but he recovered himself to say to Py – "Thanks for coming in. I'll be in touch with you if we need to talk."
Py nodded and turned to leave, but when he tried to walk past Frank Walker, Walker stepped forward and blocked his path. He stuck his chin in Py's face. "I'll be in touch too," he said.
"You aren't trying to intimidate the boy, are you?" Jake asked, knowing full well that he was. Walker turned and looked at Jake. "What business would that be of yours, Jobbs," he said. "It's my business because if you try bringing charges against Py, I'll be in court to testify that it's you who was responsible for Walt Vrbas getting killed, at least as much as anyone was. I'll tell the judge that you put a boy who don't even have a license to drive a car out in that field to drive a truck. It's nobody’s fault, what happened to Walt. It sure as hell ain't Py's. But if somebody is gonna pay for what happened, I'll testify it ought to be you."
When Sheriff Miller saw Frank Walker's hands balling into fists he stepped between Walker and Jake. "Now that's enough," said the Sheriff. "If you boys have further business with each other that I can help with, sit down and we'll talk. Otherwise I want you to knock it off, right now."
Frank Walker looked like his blood was boiling. He didn't take his eyes off Jake. "Don't get in my way," he growled. "I haven't forgotten you by a long shot."
Jake stood his ground. "I hope you don't." He looked at Py. "Let's go," he said.
CHAPTER 8 – Bad Company
Frank Walker stood in Herb Leeber's law office, gazing through the half-open window blinds and thinking about what to do next. "I tell you, Frank," said the attorney, "you'd be better off to leave this thing alone. Keep it out of the papers. You've got nothing to gain from going after this kid and if – for some reason which would be known only to yourself – you do pursue him, you run the risk of having this guy Walt Vrbas' family coming after you."
"Could they build a case?" asked Walker, his back still turned to Leeber.
"I don't know," Leeber said. "Things are changing, Frank. Ten years ago I would have said 'no.' But these days... Some courts have held that an employer is liable for injuries suffered to workers due to the employer's failure to create a safe work environment. I suppose they could argue that by putting that kid behind the wheel of a truck when he wasn't even licensed to drive a car..."
"Shit!" said Walker, anticipating the rest.
"I'd let it go," Leeber said. "As your attorney, I'd advise you to let it go. I don't see what you've got against this kid anyway."
Walker moved away from the window and reseated himself in front of the lawyer's desk. "You know a farmhand named Jake Jobbs?" Leeber shook his head.
"Name doesn't ring a bell." "Well, he used to work for me," said Walker. "I fired him...I don't know, a week or so ago – a few days before the Walt Vrbas thing. That Mulvane kid idolizes him thinks he's a God." Leeber looked like he wasn't getting the connection. "I hate the son-of-a-bitch." "Mulvane or...what's his name?" Leeber asked. "Jobbs, damn it! I hate the mother fucker!" said Walker.
"Calm down, Frank," Leeber said. "Good God, I've never seen you so rattled.
What'd this guy do to you, anyway?"
Walker looked away for a moment, searching for a way to say what he had on his mind. He looked ready for a stroke, the veins in his neck bulging, over-filling to feed blood to facial muscles that were strained to breaking. "The bastard...got involved with my little girl, for one thing?"
"Got involved?" Leeber said.
"Had sex! They had sex!" said Walker emphatically.
Leeber frowned and repositioned himself in his chair. "Well, how old is your girl now, Frank?"
"She's seventeen," he said.
"It was mutual consent?" Leeber asked. "I ask because she's a minor, Frank.
How old is this Jobbs fella?"
Walker seemed to bristle at the sound of Jake's name. "I don't know, he's old. Thirty-five. Maybe more." "And the consent?" Leeber asked. "We aren't talking about rape here, are we?" And at that, Walker drew a big breath and let his head fall back on his shoulders so that he was looking up toward the ceiling. "No, I don't think it was rape. I think Lily wanted..." He exhaled haughtily and shook his head. "I hate this bastard, Herb. I want to kill him."
Leeber looked around his office as if he were hoping sweeping eye movements might clear the room of irrational thought. "Well, you can't kill him," he said impatiently, "but it sounds like you got a case for statutory rape. Does your daughter admit to having sex with this guy?"
"No, she doesn't admit to having sex with this guy," aped Walker. "But I know she did."
Leeber seemed confused. "Well Frank, your thinking this guy had sex with your daughter is not a lot to build a case on. In fact, you’re in worse shape on this one than you are on the accident case." He seemed to have reached wits end. "What is it with you these days, Frank? What has gotten into you that you want to bring all these legal actions against everyone? I don't think it's healthy. I don't, Frank! I've known you since we were school boys and I've never seen you this way."
"It's Jake Jobbs," Frank said bitterly. "That mother came right into my house and he helped himself, like he had some right... He robbed me!"
"He what?" Leeber asked.
"I caught him taking money out of my payroll drawer – right out of my office desk!" said Walker. "
I caught him red-handed!"
Leeber leaned forward, interested, his elbows resting on his desk. "Well you didn't say a thing about this. Did you report this to the police?" Walker shook his head 'no.' "Well why not?" Leeber asked. "If you hate this guy so much, there was your chance! What were your losses?"
"None, really," said Walker, a little defeated. "He got some money, but – it was his.”
"What do you mean it was his?" Leeber asked.
"I mean it was pay that I withheld from him and...he didn't steal the money," said Walker, his own words tracing the disintegration of yet another case. He looked at Leeber and could tell the lawyer was waiting for the rest of the story. "I've got cash missing – and other things have been lost from the ranch," said Walker. "Little things. Tools, riding tack. Gasoline." "Gasoline?" Leeber asked. "I just been noticing that the gauge on the tank is showing that we're going through a lot more gasoline than we usually do. And it all began when this damned Jake Jobbs showed up," Frank said.
"Well where'd you get this guy, anyway?" Leeber asked.
Frank grunted. "I don't know – Jarvis found him somewhere. He seemed okay when I first met him so I took him on as a farmhand. Not a cowboy – he ain't no cowboy. But he said he'd driven trucks quite a lot, and I needed a hand for the hay season."
"Which kind of brings us full circle, doesn't it," Leeber said.
"Jobbs would have been driving that truck the other day instead of that kid," said Walker.
"And presumably this guy Walt Vrbas would still be alive," Leeber said, helping Frank with the story.
"Presumably there would have been no accident," Frank said, putting a period on it.
"And now you hate Jake Jobbs for having gotten himself fired and allowing this whole thing to happen on your property," Leeber said.
"And to my daughter!" said Walker, his voice rising again. "The bastard came into my home, stole from me, took money out of my desk, and ruined my little girl!"
"Oh Frank, don't get melodramatic," Leeber said. "I hardly think he ruined your girl. I saw Lily just this morning and she didn't seem ruined to me. In fact, she was over to the drug store having sodas with the little Wilkerson girl and they both seemed flush with health." Frank Walker looked away and Leeber could see that his old friend was needing some reassurance and some direction. He got up and walked around to where Walker was seated. There was a box on his desk which was filled with cigars, and he held it open for Walker to take one. He declined. "Frank, I think you need to take a little break. You've been working too hard for too long, and it's warping your perspective.
This guy Jake – it don't sound to me like he's done you any real harm. The law says he's got no business having anything to do with someone your daughter's age, so if that's something we need to follow-up on, we'll do it. Beyond something like that, you've got to let your girl grow up, Frank. Be there when she needs your help, but let her grow.
And quit being so angry all the time. You’re a great man, Frank – a war hero, a leader in this community. This kind of behavior – wanting to bring charges against people all the time, get even with everybody – it's not becoming to you. It's beneath you, old friend. It's something that's not helping you."
Frank Walker did not like being lectured to, but he took it, bracing in the chair the way he would if having to face old Doc Kessel, the dentist. When Leeber finished, Frank cleared his throat and moved on to new business, as if sweeping aside all that had just transpired. He got up from his chair and looked hard at his lawyer. "I want you to make arrangements with a private investigator to find out what you can about Jake Jobbs," he said sternly. "I want to know everything there is to know about the guy. Then we'll see whether or not all this is something I should put behind me." Then he turned and walked to the door of the office. "Thanks, Herb," he said, before closing the door behind him.
CHAPTER 9 – Kinda Crazy
"You shoulda seen Frank Walker's face!" Py laughed so as he told the story that he spat when he talked. "I thought he was gonna have a conniption."
"What did Miller say about all this?" Pete asked eager to hear all about what had transpired at the Sheriff’s office.
"He did real good his self," Py said. "I don't know how it might have been if he hadn't stood up to Walker like he did."
Tory looked from her father to Py. "Well, there's no reason to let Frank Walker push you around. Jake had better watch himself though. He's had enough trouble with that guy."
"Sounds to me like Jake can take care of himself," Pete said. He held a picket up to the fence. "Drive a nail right in there, will you Py?"
After Jake and Py returned from town with the new fence stretcher, Tory sent Jake to the field by himself and recruited Py to help her and her father repair the fence around the yard. It was work Py was happy to accept because it gave him a chance to tell the two about Jake's heroics in town. Py's estimation of Jake's manly authenticity had quadrupled. By association, so had his, for he'd seen that it was possible to take Frank Walker on straight up and come out with all your parts intact. Not yet aware of Walker's retreat on the manslaughter charges, Py was worried over the expected encounter and he was hungry for encouragement.
"Those six pennies are a little more nail than we really need," Pete said. "We might have to knock 'em back flat on the back side." "You got it where you want it?" Py asked, aiming with the hammer. "Hit it," Pete said, and Py took five good whacks to drive the head of the nail flush against the board.
"You know, I grew up with Frank Walker," Pete said, while sizing up the positioning of the wood. "He was a squirt of a kid. Didn't have nothin'. My family didn't have nothin' either, but I remember passin' down some denim pants to Frank and his brother Tom."
"I didn't know he had no brother," Py said.
"Well, he doesn't now," Pete said. "Tom died a long while back – real young.
He got thrown from a horse and killed." Tory gasped. "How horrible..."
"Oh yeah – you don't remember that?" Pete asked. "You were around then, though you'd a been a kid yourself."
"Frank Walker has sure had a lot of tragedy in his life," Tory said. "What with his son, his wife – and now I'm hearing about his brother..."
"It's all gone in to makin' him who he is today," Pete said. "That's why I always kind of temper my judgments again' him – 'cause I know what he's been through – but, still, he's gotten bad tempered. I think he's a little crazy. I feel sorry for anybody who’s got anything to do with him."
"That daughter of his – she's got a lot to handle," Py said sincerely, which made Tory look at him and smile. "Of course, she's kinda crazy herself."
"What do you mean?" Tory asked.
"Well, she's different every time you see her," Py said. "One day she's all stuck-up on herself and won't even speak to you, and the next day she's all friendly, like you're her favorite person. Then the next day she treats you like a slave..."
"That's just women," Pete said. Tory slapped him across his shoulder with the back of her hand. "They're all like that. They ain't like men, same way every day. It's a lot more complicated with them."
"Well, that's Lily," Py said. "She sure is pretty, though." "You like her, huh?" Tory asked.
"I like the way she looks," Py said. "If she was half as sweet as she is good lookin'..."
"Have you ever had a girlfriend?" Tory asked, as Py lined up another picket. Py shook his head. "Well, I known some, but I ain't never had a real girlfriend."
He got quiet for a moment, and then said to Tory, "I guess you've probably had some boyfriends, huh?"
"Oh yeah," Tory said, smiling widely. "I think you could say I've had one or two.”
"You ever been married?" Py asked.
"No," Tory said. "I've never been married." "Would you like to be?" Py asked.
With that, Pete had heard enough. "If you two are gonna be talkin' mush I'm gonna go have a little soak," he said, getting up from where they were working and walking off toward the cattle tank. "Let me know
if either one of you falls in love."
"Well?" urged Py, once Pete was gone. "Would you like to?"
"Yeah, sure I would," Tory said. "What woman wouldn't want to be married? I'd like to be a wife and a mother – make a home, raise a family. Sure, who wouldn't want that, as long as it was with the right man?"
Py looked interested. "What kind of a man would that be?" he asked.
Tory thought for a moment. "Well, he'd have to be solid. You know. He'd have to be able to hold down a job and be a good provider." She stared off into space, allowing her thoughts a wider range. "I'd have to be in love with him, and him with me. Mostly, though, I think he'd have to be warm and caring, funny – and handsome. And he'd have to be able to protect me, you know? I think I'd like knowing that I was with someone who could take care of me if...I don't know, if something happened."
"You think Jake could do all that?" Py asked.
The question seemed to knock Tory a bit off her guard. "I don't know, Py," she said. "Maybe he could. Jake's got some good qualities."
"Do you love him?" Py asked.
"Py!" Tory said, a little flustered. "Where are you getting these questions?" "I don't know," Py said, a little embarrassed by himself. "I just wondered. I don't ever get a chance to talk with girls – er, women, excuse me – about how they see things."
"I don't know Jake that well yet, that's all," Tory said. "You embarrass me." "I'm sorry," Py said apologetically. "I just wondered."
"Besides," Tory said, "I don't think Jake's that easy to get to know. He's like a Chinese box. You open up the first and there's another inside, and you don't know what's in it. Then you open that one to find another, and you still don't know. I think you can fall in love with the mystery, sort of become hypnotized, you know? What I do know about Jake is that his heart is good. I think he's been a lot of places and done a lot of things. It may be why he's so distant in some ways. But in others he's so...right there, you know? He's so unshakable." Tory watched as Py knocked another nail into the fence. "I can tell you one thing – he's a great lover."
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