by JL Curtis
Calling Cameron, he quickly passed the information and promised to get the tire tracks and pictures of the spill to him as soon as he got back in the office. As they drove back to the ranch house, the old man saw a Santa Gertrudis cow standing forlornly by the fence, pointing it out he asked, “That the same breed they took?”
“Yeah, looks like she must have gotten out of the pen, so I guess they only got twenty-nine cows.”
The old man stopped quickly, grabbed the camera, and took pictures of the cow and the brand. Coming back to the car he said, “That’ll work. All your cows tagged?”
“Yep, all ear tagged, I never bothered to chip them, since they’re going to sale,” Gilbert replied with a sigh, “What happens now John? I’ve never lost any cows before.”
“Well, I’m going haul butt back to the office and get these pictures uploaded, along with the ear tag numbers you gave me. Brian is on his way to hit some of the sales in Midland; I think two of them are doing auctions today. If he doesn’t get any hits there, he’s going to check the holding pens at a couple of the other places.”
Gilbert slumped back in the seat, unconsciously petting Yogi as he stuck his head on the console, “What are my chances of getting my cows back?”
The old man glanced over, “I can’t really say Tom. Sometimes we get lucky if they’re trying to turn a quick buck and sell them. If they stole them for another ranch, the odds aren’t so good. Even with folks like Brian working it, and ten year prison sentences for rustling, it’s still not a guarantee that we are gonna be lucky today.”
“Well, at least you’re honest. I’ve been thinking about getting out of the cow business anyway. I’m getting enough income from the royalties off the wells to break even, and I’m getting to the point I’m too stove up to wrangle those cows every day, and it’s harder than hell to get good help anymore.”
The old man just nodded and pulled into the ranch yard. Gilbert got out slowly, then reached back in, sticking a hand out, “Thanks for coming out so quick, John. I appreciate it.”
The old man shook his hand saying, “We’ll do our best. But no guarantees. I’ll print a copy of the report if you want to swing by the department and get it for the insurance folks.”
***
An hour later, the old man had pushed the pictures to Cameron, and finished up the report. Taking Yogi out for a walk and visit to his tree, he met the sheriff coming back in. “Jose, have we seen an uptick in rustling since I’ve been gone?”
The sheriff stroked his moustache thinking, “Not really. More of an uptick in people hitting the tanks and stealing crude, but not any… Nah, nothing rustling-wise. What’s your take on it after you talked to Tom?”
Yogi pushed between them and the sheriff reached down, ruffling his fur, as the old man reviewed the incident, “It was probably an old truck, looked like it had a pretty bad leak, and the tires weren’t in real good shape either. I’m betting some down at the luck types, or maybe some druggies stole a truck… No, scratch that, whoever drove that truck knew what he was doing. He backed straight up to the chute on the first try.”
Chuckling, the sheriff asked, “You sure it was a he?”
The old man rolled his eyes at the sheriff, “I’m old, a chauvinist, and set in my ways. Might have been a she, but I’ll be damned if I can think of one that could have done that.”
***
The old man had just finished lunch when the phone rang, hitting the speaker, he hurriedly took a sip of coffee, “Sheriff’s department, Captain Cronin. Hello?”
A tinny voice answered, “John, Brian Cameron, can you hear me?”
“Just barely, what have you got?”
“I’ve got a broke down truck with twenty-nine Santa Gertrudis cows in the trailer sitting a half mile south of Diamond’s auction on the northwestern side of Midland. They’re all branded Lazy G, and the ear tags I can see match the list you sent me. I’ve got Midland’s PD with me.”
The old man leaned back with a smile, “Twenty-nine is a good count. I forgot to call you back, one cow was still in the pasture. Any sign of a driver? Or anybody around the truck?”
“Nope, but PD ran the tags and they come back to a JC Smith. Got an Iraan, Texas address.”
“Damn, that’s not more than ten miles from Gilbert’s spread. Got a full name on Smith? And gimme the address, guess I need to pay somebody a visit.”
The old man heard rustling of paper and a conversation but he couldn’t make it out, finally Cameron came back, “John Calhoun Smith, thirteen hundred Highway one ninety. You copy?”
“Yeah, copy. Damn, this isn’t going to be fun. Can I tell Tom to come get his cows?” he asked.
Another conversation and Cameron answered, “How about we take the cattle to Diamond’s and put them in a pen while we photograph them for evidence? Tell Gilbert he can get them tomorrow, and we’ll cover the cost of a night’s pen and feed.”
“Got it, thanks for the good work, and pass along my thanks to the PD folks!” Hanging up, he quickly dialed Tom Gilbert, “Tom, found your cattle, they’ll be overnighting with Diamond’s Auction up in Midland, and you can pick them up tomorrow. Brian will be in touch with you.”
Gilbert yelled, “Great! Thank you, thank you! I’ll give Diamond’s a call right now.” With that Gilbert hung up on the old man, leaving the old man laughing.
***
The old man took Yogi across the hall to dispatch, “Lisa, can you watch Yogi for me? I need to take a run out to the east side of the county and do a house call. I don’t want them to think I’m threatening them with a dog.”
Lisa smiled and ruffled Yogi’s fur as he sat next to her chair, “Sure Captain, more than happy to! I even got him some treats.”
The old man laughed, “Dammit Lisa, you’re spoiling that dog!”
“Somebody’s got to, Captain,” Lisa responded.
The old man hopped in his car and headed out, as he turned off on 190, he thought about backup and picked up the mic, “Dispatch, car four. Who’s working the east side of the county?”
“Car four, two-fourteen is out there with Deputy Ortiz. You need him?”
“Car four, two-fourteen, what you got Captain?” Deputy Danny Ortiz asked.
“Danny, I need to do a house call, possible stolen truck from thirteen hundred highway one ninety. JC Smith’s place.”
“Dispatch, show two-fourteen ten seventeen, thirteen hundred highway one ninety, backup.”
Lisa answered, “Showing car four, and two-fourteen ten seventeen, thirteen hundred highway one ninety. ETAs please?”
“Car four, five minutes.”
“Two-fourteen, ten minutes, stepping it up.”
***
The old man rolled slowly through a busted down fence and across a cattle guard, pulling in on the off side of a beat up old International oil field truck, “Car four’s ten twenty-three.”
The old man got out of the car quickly, then walked around the front of the car. He stopped for a minute collecting his thoughts as he waited on Ortiz. Glancing up, he saw a man step onto the rundown porch of the singlewide trailer and stare at him. In the distance, he heard a siren, watched the man’s head swivel to the sound. Then the man scrabbled back through the door of the single wide, slamming it behind him.
Cussing himself, the old man circled back around his car to get a radio, and the next thing he knew, he was lying on the ground, being pelted by burning debris. Looking around he saw 214 come sliding to a halt, but he didn’t hear anything. He saw Ortiz jump out of the car and start running toward him, and the old man thought to himself he should get up.
Rolling over, he managed to get one leg under him, and was getting to his knees as Ortiz quickly and firmly pushed him back down, as he frantically patted him looking for injuries. The old man finally brushed his hands away and said, “I’m okay, dammit. I just got knocked down. Can’t hear much right now Danny. Call this in, okay?”
He could see Ortiz yelling into his mic, but couldn�
�t really make out what he was saying. Getting up, he goggled at the damage, there wasn’t much left of the trailer, and he was thankful he’d been parked on the other side of the oil field truck. He started slowly around the front of the car, and was hit with the smell as the breeze shifted, it had a chemical smell he finally identified as a meth lab, and then smelled burned flesh.
He turned and yelled to Ortiz, “Danny, search for a body, there was at least one person there! I’ll go left, you go right!” He saw Ortiz nod, and he quartered away from the truck as closely as he could to the fully engulfed trailer, stepping carefully and looking intently in the grass for a body or body parts.
He met back up with Ortiz, who shook his head; they walked slowly back around to the front of the trailer. Just as they cleared the end of the fire, the local VFD came rolling in. The old man let Deputy Ortiz deal with them as he leaned heavily on the back of his car.
***
Three days later, the old man, Ranger Clay Boone, the sheriff and Deputy Ortiz sat around the conference table in the office. The old man had just finished briefing them on what he and Clay had found as a result of their investigation of the remnants of the Smith’s place.
Sheriff Rodriquez nodded, “Damn good brief John, and it’s just sheer luck you’re here to talk about it.”
“Yes it is. If I’d walked up to the door, or toward the house, I’d probably be dead, just like the two of them.”
Clay chimed in, “They must have been cooking when you pulled in. Looks like the son was the one you saw, and he must have been scared bad enough that he did something stupid. I’m pretty sure the tox report is going to come back positive on both of them. But it’s going to be a while. I just wonder what happened to take them down this road?”
The old man flipped through his notes, “According to the neighbors, JC Smith, Senior apparently was an over the road trucker until he lost his CDL for popping pills and too many tickets. I’m guessing he got the boy, JC Smith, Junior, to get him dope when he was out working the oil patch. Looks like the attempt to steal Tom’s cattle was a spur of the moment thing, and Tom ID’ed a picture of Smith Senior. Said he’d been talking to him a few days ago when Smith approached him about some handyman work. Apparently Smith overheard Tom talking to Diamond’s about shipping the cattle up to Fort Worth, and he just decided to make the run for himself.”
Deputy Ortiz said, “Well, I guess I was the contributing factor, when I heard you go twenty-three, I figured I’d better step on it, and I couldn’t get around that damn pickup, so I went code three around him. When I saw the explosion, I thought sure as hell you were dead Captain, and I just knew it was my fault.”
The old man chuckled, “Not dead, just deaf for a couple of days, Danny. Just goes to show you can never predict what you’re going to roll in on. And sheer luck there wasn’t any room for me to get on the other side of the oil field rig, otherwise I would be dead.”
The sheriff hit the table with both hands, “Come on folks, I’m buying lunch. We got the cows back, and apparently took a pretty good-sized meth lab down. The sad part is two people died, but they did it to themselves. Overall, I’m calling that a win.”
Beatings will Continue
Aaron and Snake pre-inspected everyone on the teams prior to falling them out for morning muster, and found nothing wrong with haircuts, boots, or uniforms. As soon as colors was over, Captain Goss drove up, and Aaron called the teams to attention, then reported to the captain.
Finding nothing wrong, the captain marched back to the front of the formation, “You’re starting to look like Marines. Now we’ll see if you can perform like Marines. We’re going to go run the obstacle course.”
Grinning Captain Goss turned to Aaron, “Gunnery Sergeant, if you would be so kind, please lead the troops to the obstacle course. A nice little double time should get everyone’s heart rate up a bit on the way.”
Aaron saluted, “Aye Aye sir.”
Captain Goss watched them double time toward the obstacle course as he walked slowly back to his car.
***
As soon as they got out of sight of the captain, Snake said, “Damn, sure as hell somebody’s going to screw up the new BDUs. I don’t understand what he’s trying to do.”
Aaron shrugged as he marched, “Dunno either, but we’re not going to let him beat us down. We’re better than that. We got through a full deployment without losing anybody, and that’s a lot harsher than anything Goss can dream up.”
“That’s true, but I haven’t been treated like this since boot at Parris Island.” Looking over the teams Snake continued, “None of us are boots. This crap just doesn’t make any sense.”
“Maybe, but he’s coming from MCCDC, and he was supposedly on the new tactics side of the house, so maybe we’re the guinea pigs for him to prove his ideas work in the real world.”
***
Having driven over, Captain Goss parked in the parking lot across the street and stood waiting as Aaron and Snake brought the troops to a halt in front of the obstacle course. Aaron turned to the captain, saluted and said, “Teams reporting as ordered, sir.”
Goss said, “We’re going to have a little competition today. Count off by fours, and those will be the teams. I was talking to the colonel, and apparently, the record for the obstacle course is thirty-three seconds. I’m going to be generous, and say your maximum time is one minute ten seconds today. We’ll see how badly out of shape you people are.”
Aaron said, “Sir, aren’t we supposed to have medical here, in case there is an accident?”
Goss rounded on him, “What’s the matter Gunnery Sergeant, are you afraid someone might get hurt? We are Marines. Count off and let’s get going!”
“Yes sir.”
Goss smiled, “We’re going to do this by rank, so seniors lead, right Gunnery Sergeant?”
Aaron and Snake answered, “Yes, sir.”
“I’ll be at the finish line. When I blow the whistle, you start. I’ll time you through the course and record the scores at the far end. Four at a time. Understood?” With that, Goss marched toward the finish line.
Aaron and Snake quickly arranged the groups of four by rank of the senior man in the group, and Aaron said, “I’ll run it first, then we’ll go down the list. Dunno what this is supposed to prove. Mac, Doc, Hargrave, on the line with me.”
Goss blew the whistle and they took off at a run. Aaron was a little tentative over the first obstacles trying to figure out which leg to use first, but decided to land on the good leg. He was keeping pace until the snake move on the bars, when his prosthetic hung up and he had to reset to make the move. The other three had already finished before he started up the rope, but rather than drop, he came down carefully.
Goss tut-tutted, “Pathetic Gunnery Sergeant, one minute thirty seconds. You’re a disgrace to my Marine Corps.” He turned away and blew the whistle for the next group, pointedly ignoring Aaron.
Aaron stewed as the other groups ran, and when the last group finished, Goss turned to them calling out, “Parker, Sands, Hobgood, Smith. You’re done, go back to the team spaces and start your normal duties. Everybody else, back to the line; we’re going to do this again.”
In the next five runs through, Aaron’s group was last every time due to Aaron’s dealing with the prosthetic, but four of the five they were under the one minute, ten second goal Goss had set. Aaron had ripped a hole in his pants due to the leg hanging up on the bars again, and he was steaming mad, but kept his mouth shut and didn’t respond to Goss’ continued jibes at him.
After Snake and his group had been sent back to the team building, only Aaron and his group were left. Doc was watching Aaron closely, seeing him sweating and in obvious pain, but Aaron swore he was okay when Doc asked him. Goss looked at them and said, “Well, congratulations Gunnery Sergeant, you’re leading from the rear. You can’t seem to get your act together to do something as simple as an obstacle course, so how are you going to lead troops?”
Aaron
didn’t respond, and waved off Mac and Hargrave who both were ready to say something, “I’ll get the job done, sir. Just like I always do. Oorah!”
Goss looked at him, “You will keep running the obstacle course until you meet the time I set or you quit. Is that clear? Go back and run it again!”
All four of them said, “Oorah!” and trotted back to the start of the course, with Mac cussing under his breath, and Doc telling Aaron he needed to go to medical.
Goss blew the whistle, and they charged down the course one more time. Aaron was keeping up until he fell over the last obstacle and it took a few seconds for him to get back to his feet. The others were already up the rope and starting down as Goss started counting, “One minute, one-oh-one, one-oh-two”
Aaron jumped as high as he could and heard the count reach one-oh-eight at the top of the rope. He let go and fell to the ground as he heard Goss say, “One-oh-nine.”
He heard a loud pop, and fell over as a new pain shot up his left side, from the stump to the hip, but he popped back to his feet, then fell again as the prosthetic gave out, “We made it in time, right, Captain?” Aaron asked as he got to his knees.
Goss said, “I guess I’ll give you credit for that. What was that pop I heard?”
Doc Baker moved Aaron’s boot with a strange look on his face and said in disgust, “That was Gunnery Sergeant Miller’s prosthetic breaking sir. The foot portion is broke.”
Aaron was looking at Captain Goss and could have sworn he saw a smile on his face before he said, “Well I guess we better get you to medical then.” Goss called and minutes later an ambulance showed up. Aaron had told Mac to get back to the team spaces and have Snake bring his running leg to the hospital, and also have somebody drop his truck at the hospital as he sat on the ground, Doc sitting next to him and cussing.
Aaron looked at Doc and finally realized what he was seeing, “You had to do that before didn’t you, Doc?”
