Shake the Trees

by Rod Helmers

  “You have?”

  Sam nodded. “It’s Robert. Robert Martinez Norden. I think we’ll call him Bobby.”

  Strange noises began to escape from Dr. Bob’s throat, and his eyes searched Sam’s through a blurry veil. “I don’t know what to say. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before.”

  “You have to come back now.”

  Dr. Bob smiled and then looked alarmed. “I almost forgot.” He pulled a pouch from the pack carried by Big Dog and handed it to Sam.

  Sam thought it looked like the zippered leather bag he carried when he collected for his paper route as a kid. He pulled the zipper back and drew a sharp breath. “There’s money in here. A lot of money.”

  “Over one-hundred thousand dollars. It’s not what you think. It’s my bonus for signing with DARPA. Not that I had a choice.”

  “I can’t accept this.”

  “It’s not for you. It was. It was going to be part of your wedding present. But not anymore. Now it’s for my . . .” Dr. Bob looked puzzled.

  “Godchild. Godson.”

  “Yeah. For my godson.”

  “I don’t know,” Sam said haltingly

  “I don’t have any use for it.” Dr. Bob paused. “Besides, there are strings.” He added casually.

  “What kind of strings?”

  “It has to be used for the pipe, the heavy equipment, and all the other stuff.”

  Sam looked perplexed again. “I don’t understand.”

  Dr. Bob suddenly became solemn and pensive, and stared off into the distance. Then he cleared his throat again. “Can I ask you a question? Like a private question?”

  Sam chuckled in a way that suggested he wasn’t entirely comfortable. “Sure.”

  “Is it like those TV shows from the fifties? You know, Sandi’s family. Do they all eat dinner together? Pray? Talk about their day. Are people really like that?”

  Sam smiled. “They’re really like that.”

  Dr. Bob looked away. “I thought so. I thought it was like that.” Then he abruptly stood up. “I need to go.”

  “You’ll come back?”

  Dr. Bob answered as he walked away. “I’ll be back.”

  “But what about the money?” Sam called after him.

  “Tell Rodger Isaiah 35.”

  “Isaiah 35?”

  Dr. Bob had nearly reached the ridge where he’d first appeared. He spoke without turning around. “He’ll know.” Then Dr. Bob broke his stride, but still didn’t turn around. “And Sam?”

  “Yes?” Sam answered.

  “You’re the lucky one.”

  Dr. Bob disappeared behind the ridge. Big Dog had followed behind him, but stopped at the top of the ridge and spun its head around. Like an owl - not a dog. Its beady red eyes locked on Sam as it extended its neck and barked twice.

  Sam smiled. “Good bye, Dr. Bob.”

  Sam didn’t tell anyone about his visit from Dr. Bob until the Rimes family sat down to dinner that night. After Rodger finished praying, Sam sat the stack of bills on the table.

  “What’s that?” Sandi stuttered.

  “That’s $100,000.” Sam had everyone’s attention. Then he told them everything. Or nearly everything. He left out the classified stuff.

  “Is that all? Is that all he said?” Sandi asked.

  “Oh, he told me to tell Rodger something.” Sam looked at Rodger. “Isaiah 35.” Sam paused, but Rodger didn’t say anything. “He said you’d know.”

  Betty Rimes started to get up from the table to find a bible, but Rodger waved her back to her seat. His deep baritone voice was calm and reassuring.

  “All of nature will be restored, both for earth and for humanity. The wasteland and dry plain shall be glad; the desert shall rejoice and blossom like a spring flower, it shall bloom abundantly and rejoice with joy and song.”

  When Rodger finished, he looked at Sandi with a twinkle in his eye. Sandi understood, and the words tumbled out.

  “If we use buried pipe instead of open ditch irrigation, we won’t have any evaporative losses. After capturing one more spring melt, the reservoir should have enough capacity to continuously irrigate all summer, and still restore Canones Creek to its natural state. We’ll be able to move the entire herd to the Circle M during the summer, and take at least two cuttings of hay off the low pastures. Enough to carry the herd through the winter.”

  Rodger smiled, signaling his agreement, and looked at Sam. “We’ll have everything we need. Right here. This ranch will support a family without a town job. We owe that to you.”

  Sam shook his head. “Not me. We owe that to Dr. Bob.”

  CHAPTER 59

  The King-Air was flying into the late afternoon sun at 24,000 feet. The West Texas terrain below was always stark, but in late November it appeared utterly devoid of life. Sally sat in the left seat. Tillis in the right. Sally had the airplane.

  “Everyone at Orlando knows you’re giving me lessons,” Sally spoke with a tone of indictment.

  “So?” Tillis asked innocently.

  “So they all think I’m screwing you.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” Tillis immediately noticed that Sally’s brow had furrowed in response to his comment. “That came out wrong. I mean you’re young enough to be my daughter.”

  “And that would be different from the last two women you lived with how?”

  “First of all, I’ve never lived with anybody. I have on occasion had houseguests of the fairer sex who enjoyed my hospitality for rather lengthy visits. Regrettably, I’ve been forced to eventually encourage all of them to find more permanent accommodations. Besides, it was my distinct impression in each case that Miss Alma didn’t entirely approve of the arrangement.”

  “Commitment phobe.”

  “The phobe part would suggest an irrational fear. I believe my fears to be entirely rational.” Tillis commented blithely.

  “It must be hard to be a man. You know. To regard every emotion as a potentially live hand grenade. That must be very tiring.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I’d like to change the subject now.”

  “Okay. Tell me how you became involved in all of this. Why you?” Sally briefly glanced over at Tillis as she posed the question.

  “Rodger called me this past summer. He wanted to talk about the whole Medal of Honor thing. He felt that he’d made a mistake. That he’d dishonored those who served with him. Especially those that fell beside him, but had gone unrecognized. The ones who made the ultimate sacrifice. He’d begun to feel that his decision to refuse the Medal had been selfish. That he should have accepted it on their behalf. To honor them.”

  “Did he talk about his health?”

  “He never mentioned it. I didn’t either. But I knew something more than old age was motivating him. Our discussion was always about a posthumous award.”

  “He never talked about dying?”

  “Not directly. He talked about the long and full life he’d lived. About the new grandbabies on the way. He was at peace with everything. Except the award. I told him what I thought, and I told him I’d try and fix it.” Tillis explained.

  “So he agreed right away?”

  “Pretty much. Except about the place. He wouldn’t even consider Virginia. As a Medal of Honor recipient, he’d be entitled to a spot at Arlington. He wanted to stay on the ranch. He loved it there.”

  “You talked him out of that?” Sally sounded surprised.

  “I suggested the Sante Fe National Cemetery as a compromise. But the decision was his. Of course.”

  “Why? Why did you do that?”

  “I’ll tell you what I told Rodger. Whether he liked it or not, he’d become a symbol. A symbol of the citizen soldier. A democracy needs symbols, and the people need to be able to visit those symbols. They need a place to go and think about what those symbols stand for. A place of peace and quiet. A place for reflection about important things.”

  “So you asked him to make another sacrifice.
Another sacrifice for his country.”

  Tillis paused and considered Sally’s statement. “I never thought about it that way, but I guess you’re right. I guess I did.”

  “Who knows about the arrangements?”

  “Nobody. That was his decision. He didn’t want the time he had left to be colored by any of this. I’m not sure his family even knew about the seriousness of his health problems.” Tillis paused for a moment, and then clarified his answer. “That’s not completely true; Dustin knows.”

  Sally was shocked, but Tillis offered no further information. Neither spoke as the propellers droned on for several minutes. Finally Sally spoke up again. “How’d it happen?”

  “He’d started going out before sunrise. On his horse. To watch the sun come up over the mountains. He had a massive heart attack.”

  “So the old he-coon walked just before first light,” Sally quietly commented as she studied the landscape below.

  Tillis raised one eyebrow and gave her an appraising look. “Sam found him.”

  It was strange weather for November in Sante Fe. A wet pall hung over the pinion-studded hills that surrounded the cemetery, and ribbons of foggy mist wound around the neat rows of white stones. It was already late morning, but the reliable New Mexican sun remained shrouded. The dark-colored clothes worn by the mourners offered little resistance to the penetrating chill of the confused and wafting currents of moisture laden air.

  Four rigid Marines carried a flag draped coffin and set it before the mourners who huddled together under a white tent turned grey by the dreariness of the day. Sandi was prepared for the cracking volley of guns, but not for the naval tradition of a single booming cannon. The sound unnerved her as it bounced off the surrounding hills, but the playing of taps that began even before the final echoes of the canon trailed away elicited an even more visceral response.

  The Marine Corp bugler stood nearly fifty yards away, unseen in the heavy mist, and the mournful sound seemed to float down from above. The sound touched a sadness deep inside, and the tears again began to flow as she watched the four Marines offer a painfully slow parting salute to the man who’d taught her so much.

  Two of the Marines then began the deliberately slow and intricate task of folding the flag. Upon completion, the Marine holding the now folded cloth pivoted and presented the taut triangle of red, white, and blue to the Officer in Charge. The Officer in Charge remained at stiff attention and made no effort to move toward the family. Soon a few murmurs quietly spread among the assembled group, with several now straining to peer through the gray mist.

  Intermittent glimpses of a man in a civilian suit and tie could be seen among the white stones and drifting fog. A familiar and steady stride caused sharp breaths to be drawn, and then his presence silenced all. The man came to attention inches from the Officer in Charge, who carefully placed the folded flag in the man’s hands and saluted in slow motion.

  The man returned the salute, pivoted, and made three graceful strides toward the family. Then he bent over and waited for Betty Rimes to meet his gaze. He expressed sympathy with his eyes, and spoke with a quiet but confident tenderness.

  “As Commander-in-Chief of the United States Armed Forces, it is my high privilege to present you this flag. Let it be a symbol of the grateful appreciation this nation feels for the distinguished service rendered to our country and our flag by your loved one."

  Then the President of the United States turned to the right, took two more steps, and placed one knee on the ground. The President smiled at Dustin and gave him a reassuring wink as he removed an object from his suit jacket.

  “It is my great privilege to present our nation’s highest military decoration, the Medal of Honor, awarded to your grandfather, Rodger Lee Rimes, for conspicuous gallantry and bravery in the service of his country.”

  Dustin spoke in a slightly muted yell, not yet having mastered the loud voice of an adult speaking to a group. “My Pappy asked me to accept this award on behalf of those who served beside him and fell so that others might live in freedom.”

  The President handed the velvet covered display box to Dustin, who took it with his left hand and immediately came to rigid attention and executed a crisp salute with his right. The obviously surprised Chief Executive quickly came to his feet and returned the salute before taking a sobbing Sandi into his arms.

  With Sam on one side and Dustin on the other, Sandi made her way from the graveside tent to a waiting car. Before entering the vehicle, she turned and pulled Dustin into her with one arm and patted her now huge belly with the other. Her eyes were filled with sorrow and regret.

  “I wish they could have known him.”

  Sam smiled sympathetically. “They will. I promise they will know him. We’ll make sure of that.”

  Dustin looked up at the two of them with eyes brimming with tears. Eyes that had remained dry during the military ceremonies. “Pappy told me not to cry during the ceremony. He said I could do that afterwards if I wanted to.”

  Sandi and Sam looked at each other and then back at Dustin. “Pappy told you about today?” Sandi asked.

  “He told me it was going to happen pretty soon. He explained the ceremony and everything. He taught me to salute and what to say, and he told me not to be sad. He told me about the circle of life. Daddy didn’t get his circle, but Pappy said he got his whole circle, so I shouldn’t be sad.” Then Dustin nodded at Sandi’s belly. “I’m sorry they won’t get to know him like I did. I promised Pappy I would tell my brothers about him. But it won’t be the same. I guess I’m the lucky one. I’m the lucky one this time.”

  CHAPTER 60

  Fall and crisp air had finally come to South Georgia. Tillis was walking among the pines at Longleaf studying the rubs made by the big bucks on the smaller trees. Preparatory skirmishes for the real thing during the rut. As usual, the electronic buzz of his BlackBerry interrupted his reverie. He briefly thought the device had a very natural name for such an unnatural sound.

  Tillis looked down at the display and answered. “I’m glad you called, Chuck. I wanted to thank you for everything you did.”

  “I was happy to help. I wish I could have been there. How’d it go?” Governor Lord responded.

  “It was a very moving service. He was a good man.”

  “The kind of man that makes this nation great.”

  “Yes, sir. He was that.”

  “I don’t mean to nag, but I have a stack of messages here from Rutherford Sterling. I need to return his calls.” Lord’s tone had become more businesslike.

  “I guess the glow from all of the good publicity the Bar received has faded.” Tillis responded with more than a trace of sarcasm.

  “There’s nothing like cold hard cash, especially to a man like Rutherford Sterling.”

  “Have you talked to anybody from State or Homeland Security?” Tillis inquired.

  “Myanmar is being totally uncooperative. As usual.”

  “I guess you should fire me, Chuck. I have nothing for you.”

  Lord chuckled. “To put a twist on a quote by Sir Winston, you have all of the vices I admire, and none of the virtues I dislike. I can’t fire you.”

  “A man can hope, can’t he?” Tillis asked innocently.

  “Your best chance is that Rutherford Sterling funnels a boatload of cash to my opponent next time around, and I’m defeated.”

  “Already talking about a second term. You guys are all the same.”

  “It’s hard to do anything of lasting significance in only four years. I’ve a legacy to build, you know.” Lord protested with all of the insincerity he could muster.

  “Don’t worry about Sterling. Money can’t buy trust. The people trust you. They trust you to do the right thing.”

  “I try. I always try.” Lord answered honestly.

  “What’s the status of the American Senior Security investigation? Any progress in recovering the stolen money? Will the Bar fund be reimbursed?”

  Governor Lord smi
led at the reporter. He’d hoped to get through at least one press conference without fielding a question about American Senior Security, but he suspected Rutherford Sterling was pulling a few strings to keep the issue alive.

  “I’ve been speaking regularly with representatives of the State Department and Homeland Security. As you know, we traced the funds to Myanmar, but that outlaw nation has been uncooperative. Nevertheless, the federal government is working with the international community to pressure that country to accede to the norms of the civilized world. Both in terms of its treatment of the Myanmar people, and in its financial relationships with other nations.”

  “So there’s nothing new?” The reporter asked.

  “Diplomacy often progresses at an agonizingly slow pace.”

  “What about the FDLE investigation? Any chance the FDLE might apprehend the remaining suspect, or will she get killed first like all the others?”

  Lord responded with a serious tone. “I have directed the FDLE to leave no stone unturned in this investigation. We continue to seek the apprehension of Elizabeth Ellen Hayes. Inasmuch as we believe that she is now an international fugitive from justice, the FDLE is coordinating its efforts with law enforcement agencies around the world. It’s only a matter of time before she makes a mistake.”

  Lord then offered the inquiring reporter a brilliant smile to show that he held no hard feelings, and that he didn’t begrudge the woman for asking the hard questions. As he began to collect his papers, the press and others in attendance offered polite applause.

  The Governor again smiled broadly and gave his now standard signoff - the one he had delivered several times a day on the campaign trail and at least once a day since assuming office. It was always the same - the perennial optimist assumed the sun was always shining on at least some portion of the Sunshine State.

  “May this glorious day warm your hearts and brighten your paths.”

  Nearly half a world away at that very moment, the bow of a gleaming white sailboat rose up out of a deep trough and sliced through the next wave. Normally the 45 footer would have been crewed by at least two, but The Bar Fund was rigged out to be sailed by one exceptionally skilled captain.