Cooksin

by Rick Alan Rice

  Jake looked over at her and sighed to himself. She looked beautifully distracted and a little wistful.

  "So what time you have to be ready?" Pete asked.

  "I'm pretty much ready now," Jake said. "I get picked up around ten."

  Pete looked off toward the sunset himself, inhaling deeply and then slowly, audibly, letting it out.

  "Pete, I ain't tellin' you to expect trouble or anything, but you might want to kind've keep an eye on the yard tonight," Jake said, and Pete nodded that he understood. Tory, still looking away, put one hand to her mouth and began to unconsciously massage her lips with her fingers as she sat with her thoughts.

  "I wonder what makes clouds," Py said, having now noticed the radiant sunset himself, marveling at the way the colors reflected off the distant, pillowy wisps.

  "It's water, suspended in the sky," Pete told him.

  Py shook his head in wonder. "I never knowed that," he said, then he added, almost to himself – "What an incredible world we got here."

  * * * * *

  "Well – I guess this is it," Jake said, coming into the living room through the kitchen. "I got my stuff all bundled up in the corner of the bunk. If I have to send for it, it shouldn't be much trouble gettin' it together. I guess I don't really know how this'll work, and if I'll need it."

  Py, sitting on the sofa, looked up at Jake and felt a pressure in his chest. This was it, it was almost over.

  "I'm sure sorry about . . . about everything," Jake said, doing his casual best to take the edge off. "I wish you were all in town at the big dance, havin' a good time."

  "They'll be other chances," Pete said, smiling sympathetically, "and other dances."

  "I think I better wait alone, out in the bunk," Jake said. "I don't want anybody seein' anything or knowin' any more than what you all know already." Jake expelled a deep breath and shuffled a little on his feet. He looked at Tory. "I guess this is it."

  With Pete and Py watching, Tory moved gently over to Jake's side and rested her head on his chest, wrapping her arms around him. He held her and looked over at the other two. They could see the water in his eyes, and each fought to hold theirs back.

  Tory kept hers closed, but a trickle of tears fell visibly down her check, forming a spot on the front of Jake's shirt. "Be careful, Jake," she said to him, and he replied – "I will." Reluctantly she let loose her embrace and stepped back away from him. He smiled at her, telling her with his eyes that he loved her, apologizing a million times in that single moment for what he had done to pull them apart. Then he looked over at Pete and Py and nodded, as if to say that things would be alright. "We're with you all the way," Pete said quietly, assuredly, and Jake turned and went back outside, using the backdoor that exited out of the kitchen.

  Py sat stupefied on the couch beside Pete. Tory stood in the middle of the room. For a moment they all seemed frozen in time, then Py got up and walked quietly to the back screen door. He looked out and could see Jake in the dim light of the bunk, where he held a revolver in his left hand, while with his right he placed bullets in the cylinder, one by one.

  Figure 2: Crime Scenes and Key Locations

  CHAPTER 46 – Stakeout

  "Tom- Wheeler here."

  Agent Bickering winced at the crackle of the walkie-talkie, which seemed to shatter the silence of the countryside. "Bickering – what've you got?"

  "I'm in position here about two hundred yards from the back of the Parker house.

  Are you copying, Glenn?"

  Agent Lawrence Riles, lying on the ground near the field road at the back of Frank Walker's property, answered – "Copy, Ark .. I'm just off the field road, about two hundred yards south of the big building – the barn, I guess it is – at Walker Ranch."

  Bickering looked at Glenn Tyler, lying next to him on the ground. "Christ its quiet out here. Can you hear Larry’s transmitter?"

  "Yeah, I think I can," Tyler said.

  "Shit!" Bickering said. Then, into his walkie-talkie – "This is Tom. Let's not use these things any more than we have to. I can practically hear you guys breathe."

  "Copy," came the reply from the other out-posts.

  Bickering and Tyler had set-up an observation point just under one quarter mile south of Frank Walker's house, which they watched through binoculars. It was not the vantage they had hoped for. They had expected to be able to set-up a surveillance position just off County Road 16, where they would have quick access to a car, should they need to close quickly in on Walker Ranch. What they discovered when they arrived in the countryside was that the land south of the ranch crested in a way that made it impossible to spy on the ranch property from a position near the roadway. Instead, they had to set-up a position about three hundred yards from the road, well out into the pasture, where they found a position of high ground from which they could clearly see the ranch house and surrounding structures. Worse yet, they found no suitable place near their lookout where they could hide their car out of sight. All property on the west side of the road was fenced, and the gated turnoffs into that property were clearly visible and offered no cover from the road. Ditches six to eight feet deep bordered the road on both sides, but they contained nothing other than low lying brush and, once again, offered no ready concealment. They finally settled on having an agent wait in the car, parked at the intersection of county roads 7 and 16, in the grove of trees where Jake Jobbs and Lily Walker had once made rendezvous arrangements.

  Another car was parked on a field road one mile east of the same intersection, where its driver waited after dropping off agents Wheeler and Riles. They had entered on to Parker property by walking in from the south, crossing through Jess Willingham's plowed field to take up positions between Parker and Walker ranches. A fourth agent was located in a field about two hundred yards north of Walker ranch, where he kept an eye on the windrow and the backside of the house. A driver waited for him about three quarters of a mile to the north, near the intersection of county roads 9 and 16, having pulled off into a ditch there, where there was the cover of high weeds. All of the cars were much further away than Bickering wanted, and he was deeply concerned about how quickly anyone could respond should they need to suddenly converge on the crime scene.

  From their four positions, the agents could monitor Jake from the time he left Parker Ranch to when he entered onto Walker property. The plan was to shadow him throughout the night, right up to when he would drop off his stolen goods at the distribution point, when the trap would be sprung. Their primary mission was to keep tabs on their informant, but Bickering had other reasons for the stake-out. He couldn't get over the gnawing feeling that if a move were going to be made against Jake, this would be the night. He had thought that, if they could safeguard Jake and his testimony, they could improve their chances of large scale arrests. Bickering had even imagined nabbing a second informant, who could confirm Jake's charges against Lorenz Pico. It made his heart palpitate to imagine where it all might lead, and what breaking a major crime ring could mean to his career, that had seemed in crisis only two days earlier.

  Now, lying on the ground, far distant from the site, he was starting to get nervous, estimating in his mind how many minutes it would take to signal his driver and then get to the road to be picked up, should an emergency arise. He was starting to doubt his ability to protect Jake, should a hit be attempted. Maybe the best he could do was nab a killer on his way out.

  Local law enforcement officials were all in town at the dance. It had been agreed that Sheriff Miller and his deputies were to avoid any actions that may raise suspicions about the sting operation. People would be expecting to see the deputies around the armory building, patrolling the dance, so that is where they were positioned. Miller and his Chief Deputy, Art Fowler, were the only ones in the Sheriff’s Department who had even been apprised of the action. There were four deputy assistants, all of whom were part-timers, recruited from Weld County's civilian population, and they were kept completely in the dark about what was
going on. Ben Miller felt that, under the circumstances, it was hard enough for him to behave in a way that wouldn't tip their hand, and he sure didn't trust the assistant deputies to carry out the charade.

  The one other person who was similarly burdened was Frank Walker, whose temperament hardly allowed him to display insouciance while someone burgled his home and stole many of his most valued possessions. He arrived at the dance looking utterly miserable, tending to hover around the Sheriff, and Ben Miller was constantly having to warn him away for fear that his nervousness would blow their cover. The FBI suspected that Pico's managers would have "spotters" in the crowd, looking for signs of trouble.

  Agent Bickering had been particularly adamant that Frank Walker and Sheriff Miller not be seen together.

  The party in town was living up to expectations. The Hadley Barrett band was doing its level best to emulate the Harry James Orchestra, while also paying proper tribute to top radio fiddle hits being heard on the King Biscuit Flour Hour, a popular program broadcast from Louisiana. Longmont was flush with cowboys and cowgirls, many drunk, many more soon to be, who showed a flair for dancing and by eight o'clock had already started to steam up the armory pretty good. Fist fights had been breaking out sporadically all evening, and Ben Miller was happy to have his lower echelon deputies attend to them, indicating that the authorities were focused on tactical concerns and had no idea of the greater felonies taking place around the county. A pretty girl from Frederick, named Elaine Swibel, was named "Queen of the Cow-Cutter's," and much attention was focused on the obvious flirtation between her and the year's honored guest, rope trickster Kelly Colorado, who seemed more inebriated than probably a dignitary should.

  Frank Walker saw Lily and Jarvis, when they entered the armory, and he went over to say hello, but Lily wouldn't have anything to do with him and stomped off to hide in the crowd. "Is she giving you a hard time, Jarvis?" Frank asked, and Jarvis answered, "No sir, she's
  * * * * *

  "Did you hear somethin'?" Py asked.

  Pete looked over at Tory, then got up off the couch and walked over to the front window, looking out into the yard. The light of the lamp-post only illuminated the area around the front of the house, and it was a dark night. Pete didn't see anyone. He looked at Tory and shook his head, indicating that he saw nothing. Tory sat tensed in a chair at the dining room table, and she felt a frisson of fear as Py, who had been pacing back and forth in the living room, walked hurriedly to the kitchen and the back door. Pete saw what he was doing and said – "Py, don't go back there!" But he was too late.

  Py went to the back screen and looked out the doorway. No lamp-light shown into the backyard, and the area around the bunkhouse and the windbreak was pitch black.

  Still, he thought he could see dark shapes moving into the trees. His heart began to pound hard and for a moment he stood at the screen, thinking there must be something he should do – that was Jake out there, with a man who was carrying a gun – but not knowing what. He suddenly realized that the dark forms were no longer visible, that they had melted into the trees, and Py found himself opening the back door and heading out into the night. He moved cautiously, crouched slightly, as he tried to avoid piles of brittle leaves and fallen twigs. He could hardly see his hand before him in the dark, but after a moment he reached an opening on the back side of the windrow. He heard the engine of a vehicle start up, and he looked at the county road to see head lamps light up on the now familiar faded red pickup driven by Jake's "handler." In the partially illuminated cab, Py could see the outlines of two men, and the distinctive features of the one seated on the passenger side left no doubt for Py that it was Jake. Slowly, quietly, the truck began to move up the road away from the house.

  Py turned around and started back through the trees, picking his way among the low branches until soon he reached the back porch. He charged up the steps and went in the back door, hurrying to report to Pete and Tory that Jake had just been picked up, and was gone.

  When he barged into the living room, excited, hardly able to breathe, he saw Pete loading bullets into a long hunting rifle. Py stopped in his tracks, shocked. "I didn't know you had a gun," he said.

  Pete grumped as he squeezed a couple more rounds into the magazine. "I don't like the damned thing," he said. "But I suppose we better have it handy."

  * * * * *

  "Tom, this Wheeler. It looks like Jobbs has just been picked up and is heading your way. We've got headlights moving north on Country Road 12. Over."

  "I copy that Ark," Bickering said into his walkie-talkie. "Over." He glanced over at Glenn Tyler, a dark form beside him on the ground. "Here we go," he said.

  * * * * *

  Jake found his eyes drifting to his left as he and the heavy-set man bounced along the road, though he tried to keep his nose pointed straight ahead. He was noticing the guy's every move – exactly how he worked the foot pedals, how he positioned his hands on the steering wheel, how he worked the gear shift, and how he moved his weight in the seat – thinking any one of them could be a pretext to aggression. Inside the man's blousing jacket he could see the handle of a revolver, carried in a holster mounted under his left arm.

  The driver looked over at him. "What's a matter? You look a little nervous."

  Jake glanced at him, and then again looked straight ahead. He was tight as a pressure cooker. "Not really," he bluffed, unconvincingly.

  "Relax," the driver said. "It'll all be over soon."

  Jake didn't like the sound of that. He gazed out the window on his side for a moment, staring out into the dark, and then he looked over at the driver. "So what are you gettin' outta this? I know you ain't regular with Pico."

  The driver shrugged. "A paycheck," he said. "Beats workin’." He looked over at Jake and offered a vaguely conspiratorial grin.

  "You got a name?" Jake asked.

  "Yeah, but you don't need to know it," the guy said bluntly. "You ain't ever gonna see me again."

  "Why – you plan on usin' that gun you got in your coat there?"

  The guy looked at Jake, disappointed. "What is it with you and this 'are you gonna shoot me thing?' Don't you trust people, Jake?" He shook his head. "Look, if it'll make you feel better you can call me . . . Earl. How's that?" he said.

  "Earl?"

  "Yeah, don't you think I look like an Earl?"

  Jake glowered, then shook it off. "Okay – Earl," he said resignedly, then he resumed his nervous watch on the road, as the driver slowed the truck enough to make a left turn onto County Road 9 as they continued their progress toward Walker Ranch.

  "I'd dance with you if you thought you wanted to," Jarvis said, trying to imagine what he could do to break the ice between he and Lily. The ruckus in the armory had reached a level din, with the boisterous partiers lending their voices to the slightly overbearing rhythmic sensibilities of the Hadley Barrett nine. "You might have a better time if you'd just loosen up a little."

  Lily looked at him with obvious vexation. "Oh, would I?" she asked, unimpressed by his counsel.

  "I'm not the worst dancer here tonight," Jarvis semi-boasted, hollering into her ear. "You might be surprised."

  Lily leaned away from him, buckled by his roar. "I doubt it," she said, grimacing. "I don't want to dance, leave me alone."

  "Come on, Lily! This is supposed to be a party!" Jarvis yelled, and two people standing in the throng before them glanced back over their shoulders to see what poor soul it was who was having trouble understanding that.

  Lily rolled her eyes, mildly embarrassed, and charged off to another corner of the hall. Jarvis, momentarily left standing alone in
her wake, pursued her, walking up on the balls of his feet, craning his neck this way and that, trying to see where she had disappeared among the sea of Stetsons and big lacquered hair. Lily prowled away through the crowd like a stalking "injun," bending slightly to make herself even less observable, as she moved beneath the level of male shoulders and feminine eyes.

  CHAPTER 47 – Coming to a Head

  "Tom – we've got a vehicle approaching from the north. It looks like this is our guy. Over."

  Agent Bickering raised his binoculars to his eyes and looked in the direction of the ranch. He could see the headlights of a vehicle approaching from the far side. "This is Torn and we copy. Let's get quiet. Over."

  * * * * *

  "Pull around over to the side of the house."

  Earl pulled slowly into the vehicle yard in front the Walker house, killing the lights on the pickup as soon as they began to shine on the surrounding structures. Frank had promised that the place would be deserted, to order all his crew to attend the party in town. Still, as the truck made a slow sweep of the yard, Jake watched for lights in windows or activity of any kind. He saw none. A yard light shown from the top of a mast planted in the center of the yard, casting the entire scene in a blue wash that seemed slightly inhuman. "Go on over around the far side of the house, where it's dark," Jake said, motioning with his hand.

  As Earl slowed the truck to a crawl, bringing it to a stop under a huge overhanging Elm, Jake looked at him and asked – "Are you coming in with me?"

  Earl glanced over at Jake, and then reached down and shut off the engine. "That's what I'm paid for," he said, with the depletion of a working man.

  Jake stepped gingerly out of the truck, looking over toward the bunkhouse and keeping one hand on the door, in case, for some reason, he had to quickly duck back inside the cab. The habitation was dark, as were all the windows of the Walker home. "Let's go around back," he told Earl, who was also quiet about getting out of the truck. Both of them closed the doors carefully, so as not to make a sound.