“Jesus.”
“I don’t have a thing against ministers that truly do the work, stick to the rules, and maintain good conduct and motives, even if I do think some of them are full of shit. Most of ‘em do their jobs the best they know how. I have no respect for the ones that are in it for money or fame; and I despise the ones that don’t practice what they preach. They’re parasites on the minds and spirits of their victims. That’s why I’m looking at Pike.”
“How do you feel about sheriffs?” Smoot asked.
Crockett grinned. “You’re next, asshole,” he said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Since Kid Country closed on Monday, Charlene came out to hang around and talk business with Satin. A little before noon, the two of them went for a cruise around the lake in Satin’s peddleboat. Crockett was sitting on the deck when they got back around one-thirty.
“You got lunch ready?” Satin asked as they walked up the slope to the cabin.
Crockett peered at them over the rail. “Have we met?”
Charlene laughed. “I could use a good burger,” she said. “Whiskey River?”
Crockett cringed. “You expect me to accompany the two of you to a biker bar?”
“I’m buying,” Charlene said.
“We’ll take my truck,” Crockett replied.
“Why don’t we ride the bikes?” Satin said.
“The bikes?”
“Sure. Charlene can ride behind you on the Sportster.”
“I’m game,” Charlene said. “I haven’t been on a motorcycle in years. Got an extra helmet?”
“We got a shorty that’ll work,” Satin replied.
“Great,” Charlene said, patting her head. “Helmet hair will not be a problem.”
Ten minutes later they had the bikes out in the drive. Crockett threw a leg over the Sportster and Charlene clambered up behind him.
“You don’t have one of those backrest things. What do you want me to hang on to?”
“I’d rather not tell you while Satin can hear me,” Crockett said. “She’s the jealous type.”
“I heard that,” Satin said. “Grab his ponytail. He pays more attention that way.”
She began to kick the Goldstar, and it rumbled into life on her third try. Crockett thumbed the starter and the Sportster grumbled, then settled into that trademark Harley lope. Charlene put her arms around his waist.
“Is that a gun I feel?” she shouted into the side of his helmet.
“Naw,” Crockett said. “I’m just glad to see you.”
Charlene laughed, and they started out the drive in pursuit of the BSA.
The parking lot at Whiskey River was only about a third full. They parked the bikes up front and took a table near the bar at the side of the room as Bison clumped over their way.
“You two ladies with him?”
“’Fraid so,” Satin said.
“Damn,” Bison went on. “Better luck next time.”
“Hey!” Crockett said. “I’m right here.”
Bison grinned. “See ya bought that Sportster. Gave the Beezer to your lady, huh?”
“I didn’t have much choice.”
“Couple a cherry sleds. You guys in for burgers?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll get Joker on it. Drinks?”
“Three Cokes,” Satin said.
“Be here in a minute. Ah, Crockett, can I talk to ya?”
“Sure,” Crockett replied, and followed him to the bar where Bison delivered the lunch order, and then outside to the rickety front porch. Crockett lit a Sherman and looked at the big man. “Where’s Rufus?” he asked.
“At the vet’s. I took him in for his shots an’ a bath an’ shit. Gotta go get him in a minute. We gotta a guy hangs around here name a Clutch,” Bison said. “Not a bad fella. Don’t never remember him ‘causin’ no trouble or nothin’. Rides a ol’ black Sturgis. Pretty good shape. He’s had a seat cover with him the last couple a times he’s been in. Name’s Arlene, or Earlene, or Verlene, somethin’ like that. She’s young, just eighteen. I seen her an’ I carded her. Won’t sell booze to her, an’ she and Clutch are okay about it. He always gits her a diet Dr. Pepper or somethin’. They come in, eat, hang a while, then split. No big deal.
“This asshole comes in around nine last night, farmer type ‘bout fifty. Big ol’ rawbone sumbitch, looking for his daughter. Says his name is Hunt, an’ his little girl ain’t got no business in a place like this an’ he’s come to take her home. Stomped around for a minute or two lookin’ for her, pissin’ everbody off. I told him it was my place, an’ she wasn’t here. He tells me he’ll be back an’ if he finds her inside the joint, it’s gonna be the guy’s ass she’s with for bringin’ her here, an’ my ass for lettin’ her in.
“After that he storms out, raisin’ hell about low-life bikers an’ stuff, and drives away in a white Dodge pickup. Smart thing to do. Three or four of the guys was fixin’ to pull his arms off or somethin’. I didn’t argue with the shithead, mention that neither me or Clutch’ll give her booze, or that she’s fuckin’ eighteen an’ he ain’t got nothin’ to say about where she goes or who she’s with. Little blond girl, lotsa studs in one ear, a eyebrow ring, a lip ring, an’ some kinda dragon tat on her leg. Big tits.”
“I’ll make sure a car is in the area for the next few nights in case he comes back.”
“About that,” Bison said. “Doan git me wrong, I appreciate it an’ I appreciate the way you deal with everthing out here, but it can get purty heavy in here after dark. Some little twenty-three year old shavetail in a uniform comes in the place to take care a business an’ don’t know how to show himself, things could easy git outa hand, if you git my drift. I’d sure hate to see some kid with a badge folded up and tossed into the parkin’ lot. That would be bad.”
“That would be very bad, Bison.”
“Goddammit, I know it. I don’t want that kinda trouble with the law or you. I’ll put the word out, but I ain’t no magician. There’s always two or three around lookin’ for trouble. I can’t control the whole place. I’m just worried that somebody might git stupid with one a your boys. You were here, most a these guys would back your play with her daddy an’ treat any other cop with ya right, too. I’ll go to the wall for ya. So will Joker. Almost anybody else would follow our lead. Almost. Ya just can’t tell what a fuckin’ methhead or some other dumbass might do. All I’m sayin’ is, fuck the law an’ all that shit. I just don’t want no trouble with you.”
Crockett grinned up at the big man. “Gosh, Bison,” he said. “You gonna ask me to the spring mixer?”
“Aw, fuck you,” Bison replied, not quite controlling a smile.
“Tell ya what I’ll do. I’m not slated to work tonight or tomorrow night either. From around eight to midnight or so, Donk and I will stake the place out and watch for that white Dodge truck. In case we miss him pulling in, if this guy shows up flip the porch light on and off a few times. I’ll yell for backup and hustle over.”
“Who’s Donk?”
“My dog.”
“Yer gonna set out here on your nights off?”
“Yeah.”
“That means you’re workin’ but you ain’t getting’ paid.”
“Well, yeah.”
“That ain’t right. Can’t you guys work part time jobs like anybody else?”
“Sure.”
“Then yer fuckin’ hired. Two free meals for ever hour you sit out here that you ain’t officially on the job.”
“Bison, I can’t do that.”
“The hell you can’t. Ain’t nobody here givin’ you nothin’ just ‘cause yer a cop. You are extendin’ your time and effort to watch my place on yer own dime. That’s the deal. Two free meals for ever hour. Take it or leave it.”
Crockett chuckled. “Okay little fella,” he said. “You got me.”
“Lunch for you guys is on me,” Bison said.
“Hold off. The gal with my wife is buying today.”
“You got
some kinda arrangement with her, too?”
“No, I don’t have some kind of arrangement with her.”
“Damn shame,” Bison went on, and headed back into the bar.
Shortly after the three burgers arrived, Spivey and his friend walked in the joint. He and Crockett saw each other at the same time. Crockett nodded. Spivey muttered something under his breath and took a seat in the rear of the room out of Crockett’s direct line of sight. Charlene munched an onion ring and addressed Satin.
“I’ve got good offers on four more of my horses. With the ones I’ve already sold, they’ll pay for the new barn and probably the kennel, too.”
“Then we’ll have to get more horses. Ones the kids can ride.”
“I have no idea where to get that kind. The only horse I ever got for myself was Pokey. He was a rescue. Everything else came through my trainer.”
“Is he gonna stay on?”
“Lord, no. This is way beneath him. He’ll be around until all the big horses sell. He’s got a job lined up after the first of the year in Kentucky someplace. I’m giving him good severance, and I bought his truck and trailer from him at more than market.”
“When do you plan on starting construction?”
“As soon as I get the land thing ironed out. We’ll have to do surveys then get the title and deed taken care of. It’ll take some time. I’m going to try to get a section and a half. The way the land is laid out is odd shaped. It’s like two rectangles, each a mile wide and two and a half miles deep. The one on the east begins a mile back from the one on the west. The house and barn are at the south end in the first section of the west piece. I want the northern section and a half of the east rectangle. That piece is cut by a country road with a full section south of the road and a half section on the north side. We put the horses and stables on the full section, and the dog kennels on the half section. Easy in and out. And, nobody even comes close to the house.”
“Will your husband go for that?”
“He likes things that are good for his image. I think so.”
“What’s gonna happen to the big barn up behind the house?”
“Jack said he might use it as a warehouse for mining equipment. He keeps most of what he has out in West Virginia now.”
Crockett found it hard to follow the Charlene/Satin dialogue. His burger was balling up in his stomach a bit. He could feel Spivey’s eyes on him and occasionally caught a bit of less than complimentary comment from that direction. Charlene was speaking to him. He jerked his focus back to the table.
“...staring at you?” she asked.
“I’m sorry,” he replied. “I was drifting. What did you say?”
“Why is that man over there staring at you?”
Crockett smiled. “He doesn’t like me.”
“That’s obvious. Why?”
“Crockett took his dog out of a hot truck and tossed him in it for a while,” Satin said. “That’s how this place got their Pit Bull bar dog.”
As if on cue, the door opened and Bison entered the room, Rufus on his heels. The dog began a circuit of the place, saying hello and mooching tidbits and pats from everybody.
“Oh!” Charlene said. “I remember that story. Beautiful dog. Pit Bulls are really wonderful animals with the right training and environment.”
Rufus wandered their way. Crockett scratched the back of his neck and fed him a fry. Rufus got the same treatment from Satin and Charlene, and expanded his search for fresh victims. The ladies returned to their conversation and Crockett, now alert and wary, rotated his chair so he could see Spivey in one of the mirrors behind the bar.
He watched as Spivey took a paper napkin and liberally sprinkled it with hot sauce. He then poured a little beer on it, rolled the napkin into a tight ball, dribbled catsup on the outside, and shook on some salt. When Rufus got close, he spoke to the dog and held out the napkin.
Crockett was on his feet and moving just as the dog stepped forward, and he and Rufus arrived at the napkin at the same time. Crockett grabbed the napkin out of Spivey’s hand to keep it away from the dog.
“Hey, motherfucker!” Spivey yelled, and attempted to stand up. Crockett shoved him violently in the chest and both Spivey and his chair fell backward onto the floor, his head bouncing off the hard wood. Spivey’s sidekick came at him, but was plucked out of mid-stride by Bison and slammed face down on the table with such force that Spivey gasped like a carp with his diaphragm in spasm.
“What are we doin’?” Bison asked.
Crockett looked down to where Spivey was lying on his side, clutching at the back of his head and whimpering. “Keeping a shithead from feeding Rufus this,” Crockett panted, opening his hand.
Bison took the napkin and examined it.
“Asshole tried to feed this to my dog?”
“Yeah.”
“Motherfucker,” Bison spat. He rolled Spivey’s sidekick off the table, shoved it out of the way, picked the writhing Spivey up by the throat and headed toward the door. “Git the other one,” he growled.
Crockett grabbed the sidekick by the back of the belt and dragged him out onto the porch where he let the man drop. Spivey was in the dirt at the edge of the porch, still holding his head and issuing a muted string of accusations and threats.
“I see either one a you motherfuckers even near this place an’ the county is gonna have to invest in two new body bags,” Bison said. “You don’t never come back here. Anything happens to my place or my dog, anything at all, an’ I’ll find ya. You got five minutes to git your shit together an’ git the fuck out. You ain’t gone by then, yer next fuckin’ stop’ll be the emergency room.” He turned on his heel and stomped inside.
The small crowd that had gathered broke up and returned to the air conditioning. Crockett remained on the porch until the two managed to climb into a tow truck with Brown’s Auto Repair, Smithville Missouri stenciled on the door and drive away. When he turned around, Satin and Charlene were standing behind him. Satin smiled.
“My hero,” she said.
“Oh, hell,” Crockett replied. He went back inside and flopped into his chair.
The surge of adrenalin had destroyed his appetite and he gave the last half of his burger to Rufus while gulping down his Coke. Bison showed up with a fresh one and sat.
“Thanks, man,” he said.
“Sure. Thanks for keeping that other shithead offa me.”
Bison smiled. “Doan take a lot to stop ol’ Petey. Shame he was the one drivin’ that wrecker. You coulda busted Spivey if it was him. The court took his license for sixty days after that last bust you guys layed on him. Cocksucker. Uh…sorry ladies.”
“We’ve heard it before,” Charlene said.
“Was that hot sauce in that napkin?” Bison asked.
“Yeah,” Crockett said. “Wouldn’t have killed Rufus, but it sure could have made him sick. Hot sauce on the inside, soaked in beer and seasoned with catsup and salt.”
“Huh,” Bison said. “Wonder how Spivey got ol’ Joker’s napkin recipe?”
The laughter was a relief.
An hour later, after Satin stretched the ride home, the three of them were back at the cabin and settled on the deck.
“Well,” Charlene said, “I sure know where to go for a little excitement. A nice motorcycle ride, a spirited lunch.”
Crockett laughed. “We try to keep mealtimes interesting. Sorry about all the hassle.”
“I kind of enjoyed it,” Charlene went on. “I got to see the celebrated Crockett in action and a dog abuser get his just reward. Super. Who are those guys?”
“The one who started it all is named Spivey. From what Bison says, Spivey has a few Pit Bulls. Makes ‘em mean. Might train ‘em to fight, I don’t know. I’m just glad we got Rufus away from him before he did any real damage. That is a sweet dog.”
“Speaking of sweet dogs,” Satin interjected, directing their attention over the railing and down the slope to Dundee and Donk loping their direction. The dogs grinn
ed as they climbed the steps and greeted everyone.
“Who was the other guy?” Charlene asked.
“Bison said his name was Petey. He was with Spivey when Rufus was locked in that hot truck.”
“That kind of treatment is why I want a Pit Bull rescue center. Give those dogs decent treatment, and they are tremendous animals.”
Twenty minutes later, Charlene said her good-byes, petted both the dogs, and hugged both the people. Satin turned to Crockett.
“You done good today, husband. I’m proud of you.”
“I didn’t finish my lunch,” Crockett said. “What’s in the fridge?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Around seven that evening, Crockett came downstairs in his less than official cop clothes to find Stitch sitting on the deck with Satin, Dundee, Donk, and Nudge.
“Satin says you’re workin’ tonight, dude.”
“Yeah. My new part time job. I work for food.”
“I just came by, man. I ain’t seen much a you cats lately an’ shit, ya know?”
Crockett smiled. “Separate lives, separate destinies. I guess we’re just drifting apart.”
“Ain’t my fault if you dudes can’t keep up, man. Whatcha doin’ tonight?”
“Hanging around Whiskey River watching for an irate father who’s ready to cause trouble. Wants to save his daughter from bad influences. She’s eighteen. Too late.”
“Probably too late when she was fourteen, ya know? Want some company?”
“Sure. Be a thrill a minute, sitting the truck and waiting for something that might not happen. Think you can stand it?”
“Too easy, drill sergeant.”
Crockett and Stitch had been sitting dark in the weeds at the far end of Whisky River’s parking lot for nearly three hours when a low black motorcycle with two up turned in and stopped near the edge of the drive.
“That’s a old Sturgis, man,” Stich said. “Could be the chick an’ her sweetie-pie.”
Crockett grunted agreement, straightened up from the slouch that had overtaken him, and watched a man and a woman dismount from the bike and enter the club. Only about a minute later, a white Dodge pickup pulled in and stopped diagonally behind the Sturgis.
Six Cut Kill Page 21
