Frank trailed far enough behind the tractor-trailer that he stayed well clear of the thick cloud of dust it left in his wake, which hung like a brown fog for nearly a minute before slowly beginning to settle and become transparent.
A similar cloud rose up behind Frank's Chrysler, blocking from view another vehicle which trailed him, also hanging back at a safe distance, respectful of the danger represented by the shroud. A man in a battered, dulled-red pickup had followed Frank away from the auction house, joining the procession headed to Parker Ranch.
Fifteen minutes after leaving the stock yards, Pete pulled into his yard, bringing his truck to a stop under the huge elm standing just beyond Tory's newly reconstructed picket fence. Py was pounding nails into the side of the barn, where Cooksin had done more damage, and Pete called out to him. "Py – go open the fence to the trap. We got livestock on the way!" Py holstered his hammer and scurried around to the other side of the barn, where he slipped a wire noose over the top of a fence post and pulled open a section of four strand barbed wire. A truck horn sounded in the distance and Py looked up to see the semi coming up the road, nearing the turn into the yard.
Jake and Tory emerged through the front door of the house. "Did you get 'em?" Jake asked, and Pete replied – "Thirty of the nicest lookin' steers you ever saw."
"Let me pull my boots on and I'll be out to help you unload 'em," Jake said.
The semi slowed to a crawl and made a wide turn into the yard, the back wheels of the trailer descending down into the drainage ditch that ran alongside the county road. The trailer pitched precariously, and then righted itself as the tires came back up out of the ditch and back on to the level. Pete walked out into the yard, motioning to the driver to take his load on around to the side of the barn. He walked along behind the truck as the driver affected another wide turn and steered the semi through the fence gate that Py held open for him.
Caught up in the excitement surrounding the delivery, Pete didn't notice when a moment later Frank Walker drove his black Cadillac 60 Special into the yard. Tory, standing near the front porch, unnoticed by Frank, watched fretfully as Frank drove well onto Parker property, following after the livestock truck.
Tory turned and hollered through the front door – "Jake, I think you better come out here."
Jake came to the front door in the middle of changing into new work clothes. He was naked from the waist up. "What is it?"
"Frank Walker," Tory said.
Jake looked out toward the barn, where Frank was exiting his parked car. "What's he doing here?"
"I don't know," Tory said, "but I don't like it."
"Hold on a second and I'll go out and see," Jake said, disappearing from the screen door, going back to the bathroom to complete his dressing.
"Just back her in there against that loading chute." Pete walked along beside the truck, directing the driver. He hollered out to Py – "Go ahead and wire up the gate!" – still not having noticed the presence of Frank Walker.
Py, too, was caught up in the excitement surrounding the delivery and was also unaware of Frank's arrival. His obliviousness was derailed when he went to wire the fence back shut and suddenly found himself face-to-face with his former employer.
The encounter startled Frank, too. His eyes widened. "You!" he said.
Py froze where he stood, momentarily shocked at seeing Frank, the last person he would have expected to see on these that he had thought to be safe grounds.
Frank quickly recovered himself. He took hold of the fence post Py was trying to wire shut and pushed it back open, and then he walked right by, leaving Py standing openmouthed, unable to protest his trespass. Frank walked forthrightly over to where the semi was now backed against the loading chute.
"Whoa! That's fine right there!" Pete yelled out to the driver, still unaware of Frank's presence. He jumped up on the wooden construction and undid the clasp at the back of the trailer, which allowed him then to push a wooden door straight up, locking it in an open position, lifted sufficiently to let his stock pass beneath, off the back of the trailer and down the chute.
"Pete!"
Pete heard Frank Walker shout his name and he turned to see his old adversary stomping across the cattle trap, coming toward him like a father coming after a delinquent child, set on giving him a good scolding. "What the hell are you doing?" he heard Frank shout. "Hold on there! Wait just one minute, 'til I get there."
The truck driver had just killed his rig's engine and had opened the door to dismount, but he held his position behind the wheel when he heard the tone of Frank's voice and saw the way he approached. He leaned so that he could look back to the rear of the truck, trying to see old Pete's reaction, but Pete was out of his line of sight. He had crawled up onto the highest part of the loading chute so that he could lock the truck's rear door in the open position. Now he hung there, precariously perched with one foot lodged between the sideways running boards of the loader. "Hello, Frank," he said. The truck driver heard Pete's voice and thought it sounded casual, which put him somewhat at ease. He had at first thought there was going to be a fight.
Frank's attitude, on the other hand, was anything but casual. "Pete! What the hell are you doing?" he yelled.
"Hey, Frank, you're just in time," Pete said, as if he was happy to see him. "I could use a little help unloading these yearling."
Frank reached the loader and stood with his hands on his hips, looking up at Pete. "What are you doing with these cattle?" he demanded to know.
"Well, I'm trying to get 'em off of this truck..."
"You know damned well that I want this pasture land here," Frank said. "I've made you a fair offer."
"This pasture land is not for sale, Frank," Pete said. "I already told you that." "We are involved in discussions, Pete. God-damn it, you owe me a chance to make a new offer before you go running cattle out here!"
"If we're involved in any kind of discussion then its news to me."
Frank's face was red with anger. "Shit!" he said, and he kicked at the ground. "Close that God-damned gate and get down off of there! You take one God-damned cow off that truck and, by God, I'll..." Frank looked around for an option to complete his threat, but the cupboard was bare.
Py, having wired the fence back shut, arrived on the scene, walking a wide circle around Frank. "Help me unload these cows, Py," Pete said, and Py started to climb into the chute, apparently ready to go right into the trailer to drive the cattle out.
"Don't do that!" Pete said. "They'll trample you sure as they'll shit on the floor. There's a board down there..." He pointed out a weathered gray 4x4 lying on the ground at the foot of the chute. "Use that to poke at 'em through the side of the trailer. I'll get over on the other side and do the same."
Py jumped down to the ground and picked up the board. He started to move past Frank, regarding him with caution, but even as he did Frank grabbed the board out of his hand.
Pete saw Frank's action and he jumped down to the ground, putting himself in a position to protect the boy, even before realizing what he was doing. He needn't have been so reactive.
Frank felt the board being ripped from his grasp, turned to see who was doing so, and found himself face-to-face with Jake.
"You weren't thinkin' about hitting anybody with this, were you?" Jake asked, grimly.
Frank looked at him as if it all made sense. This is where they would naturally turn up, the outlaws who had infiltrated his fiefdom: the one place they could remain a bur under his saddle.
The truck driver begun to dismount, but now he froze in his place again, hanging out of the cab, one hand still on the steering wheel.
"Well I'll be a son-of-a-bitch," Frank said. "So this is where you worthless bastards crawled off to."
Pete saw the combat in Jake's face and he stepped in between him and Frank, taking the board from Jake's hand and calmly handing it back to Py. Py held it before him, as if to deflect an anticipated blow.
"Now you back off a little," Pete
said to Frank. "You got no business on this property, and we don't want any trouble."
Frank looked at Pete questioningly, and then glared at Jake. "Are these two working for you?"
"Yes they are," Pete said.
Frank gave Pete a look that said the old guy was a fool. He glanced over at the trailer, where the cows were nervous and bawling noisily. "And you're running a new herd?"
Pete grinned big. "I sure as hell am."
Jake stared over Pete's shoulder, looking hard at Frank, who for the moment just tried to ignore him. "I'll up my offer fifty percent," Frank said.
"Well what about these cows?" Pete asked. "If I sell you my land, where’ll I graze 'em?"
"I'll take them, too. I'll give you a profit on 'em. Just leave 'em on the truck while we work this out," Frank said.
Pete seemed to mull it over for a moment. "You know, that's a fine offer, Frank. I could take that money and go to my deathbed with a real secure feelin'." Frank nodded encouragement. "If you'd have offered it six months ago, I might have taken it. But just lately I've started to think I might like to do just a little more living. I don't know if you can appreciate that."
Frank spat on the ground. "You're a fool, Pete, and at your age. You’re passing up a chance of a lifetime. And on what – thirty head of short yearling?"
Pete's eyes sparkled. "More than that. Come here – I got somethin' I want to show you." He walked over toward the barn, motioning for Frank to follow. "There's the foundation for my renewed way of seeing things – the reason that ain't just thirty head of beef stock on the back of that truck." He pointed out Cooksin, standing in the bull pen, casually chewing on hay from his feeder.
Frank's eyes got wide. "A Charolais bull," he said, recognizing the breed from photos he'd seen in The Cattleman. "Where the hell did you get that?"
"It's a long story that ain't worth telling," Pete said. "The thing is, that animal is going to build me a herd – a big herd! And they ain't gonna be those runty damned short-horns you been breedin'. No sir, a few years down the line I plan on bringing to auction some of the finest beef cattle anybody's ever seen in these parts."
"So that's your plan," Frank said, barely able to conceal his dismay. "That's my plan," confirmed Pete.
"I'll pay twice what you paid for that bull," Frank said, thinking quickly. "I'll take the whole damned lot: the grass land, the thirty head, the Charolais – everything! I'll steer you toward investments that'll put you in the catbird seat the rest of your days. You can live off the interest!"
Pete chuckled and shook his head. "No Frank – you just ain't hearing me. Ain't none of it for sale."
Frank's expression went flat. He thought to offer additional incentives, formulated a new plan, but the words wouldn't leave his lips. He looked at Pete and could see that the old guy was steadfast in his position and wasn't going to budge.
"I don't want you to think I don't appreciate your offer, Frank. It's more than fair," Pete said. "But up against a new lease on life? Well hell – I'd rather deal with the hardships and the uncertainty."
"It's a lot of work, running a herd – even a small one," Frank said. "You know how hard it's gonna be, Pete. You’ve been through it before."
"I've got good help," Pete said.
Frank looked over toward the loading chute, down which Pete's stock moved in a nervous procession, driven from the truck by Jake and Py. "Are you so sure about that?"
"What do you mean?"
"That guy Jake Jobbs workin' for you?" "He's a good hand," Pete said.
"Did you know he's got a police record?"
Pete's expression slipped a little. He glanced over at Jake, but quickly recovered himself and worked up a confident look, so as not to let Frank see how his words had affected him.
"Did you know he spent four years in military prison and that he got a dishonorable discharge?" Frank asked. "Or that he's suspected of being part of a series of robberies in Kansas and Missouri?"
Pete's eyes narrowed. No, he wasn't aware of any of this. "These are pretty strong charges, Frank. I'd suggest you be careful about throwin' 'em around too free."
"You best know about them, Pete. You'd best know what kind of a guy you’re building your operation around."
Pete wouldn't let Frank shake him. "I 'spect that Jake'll tell me anything that needs tellin'. I got no reason to think anything but good about him."
Again Frank spat upon the ground. "You're a fool, Pete. Don't say I didn't warn you."
Pete nodded. "So you did. Now I got a lot of work to do. I'd appreciate it if you'd go on about your business."
Frank shook his head, as if his concern for old Pete was more pain that he could bare. "The offer's still open, in case you change your mind."
"Thanks Frank, but I believe I'll stay with what's planned."
Frank took another long look at Cooksin, then turned and started back toward his car. He had to walk through Pete's new herd, about half of which were unloaded off the truck and now milling around in their new confines, nibbling on the fresh green grass growing there. He slapped the rump of one as he passed, startling it to move out of his way. And as he passed near Jake he pointed a finger at him and said – "I know all about you, Jobbs. And now that I know where you're at I'll be keeping an eye on you."
Jake gave Frank a look that invited confrontation, but Frank kept right on walking. When he reached the gate he deftly unwired it and let himself out, then shut it back up again. "You're going to regret this!" he yelled out to Pete, before getting back into his car. He didn't notice that Tory stood next to the barn, listening to what he was saying. "You won't get too far working with a God-damned criminal!" Frank slammed the door, started the engine, and then tore out of the yard and back to the road.
As Frank pulled up onto the county road he drove past the faded-red pickup which had followed him out to Parker Ranch from the auction house. The driver, a swarthy man wearing a fedora, had pulled to a stop at a point on the road from which he could see Pete's unloading operation and his huge Charolais.
Pete hadn't noticed the stranger in the pickup until Frank drove away, but now as he walked back over to Py and Jake he wondered aloud who it was. Tory, too, had noticed the truck, sitting up on the road, and its driver, who seemed to be surveilling them without concern for whether or not he was seen.
"Who's that?" Py asked, voicing the question that was on all of their lips. "I don't know," Pete said. "You recognize that truck, Jake?"
"Never seen it before," he answered.
Then, before anyone had time to say anything more about it, the driver casually started the engine and slowly drove on up the road.
Pete watched as the truck moved slowly away. "Strange day," he said, and then he looked back toward his new herd. "Let's get on back to work."
CHAPTER 19 – Criminal Past
Py didn't give much thought to Frank Walker's comment about Jake being a "criminal." He figured it was a reference to Jake's supposedly having taken money from Walker's desk, having had no reason to think that it might mean anything else. He hadn't been privy to Frank's conversation with Pete, and had not heard the other accusations, or anything about Jake's police record. Tory, too, pretty much let it pass, because Py had told her about the rumors surrounding Jake the other day when she and Py were out on their driving lesson. She figured it was just Frank Walker's way of causing more trouble. Pete was the only one who had heard all of what Frank had to say, and to him it was a relief that everybody went on about their business and he wasn't rushed to ask Jake about the charges. Instead the cowboys of Parker Ranch kept their minds on the work at hand, introducing Pete's yearling herd to their new confines and finishing up what repairs were necessary to insure that they stayed where they were put. Most of their talk centered on Pete and Tory's plans for Cooksin. There was eager anticipation and excitement over the arrangements that had been made to get the bull together with Jess Willingham's brood cows. It was astonishing, the swiftness with which their enterprise s
eemed suddenly to be coming together. Its provenience was less than a month in the past and already Parker Ranch had been renewed through refurbishment, a coat of fresh paint and, now, a new herd. It astounded them all, especially Tory, who had pretty much w1itten the place off as dead a few months back. Now, since Jake and Py's arrival, it was living again. They were a long way from seeing returns, but things were taking shape and it was exhilarating for them all. Somehow, working together, they were realizing their ambitions.
In light of the progress and the accompanying high spirits, Pete was loathe to talk with Jake about what Frank Walker had said. But finally that night, after Tory and Py had gone off to bed, Pete broached the subject while he and Jake sat on the front porch, taking in the fresh night air.
"Jake, I don't know quite how to say this..." Jake looked over at Pete, made curious by the nervous edge he was hearing in his voice. Pete hemmed and hawed for a moment, stuttering for a way to begin. "Frank Walker said something to me today, something about you. I don't know what it's about, or if it's even any of my business ..."
"Go ahead, Pete. What is it?"
Pete seemed to wish he was elsewhere. He took a deep breath, exhaled, rubbed at his nose a little, then looked off into the distance, trying to find the right way to phrase what he had to say. "I don't know any good way to say it, Jake," he finally said. He looked at Jake for a moment, trying to say with his eyes what he wished he could say with his words. Whatever Jake's answer was going to be, it was okay. Pete was ready to throw his lot in with his top hand, whatever his past had been about. "When Frank was here this afternoon he made some pretty strong accusations."
Jake raised his eyebrows, feigning surprise, though he was pretty sure he knew what Pete was going to ask him about.
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