Feast for Thieves

by Marcus Brotherton

  “Okay, Rowdy,” the figure said, and I thought I recognized that voice from somewhere. “Let’s go for a little drive.” He pushed back the brim of his hat and a small red gleam of taillight caught his sideburns.

  Only then did I fully realize who it was.

  Crazy Ake jumped back in the cab of my pickup, put my vehicle in gear, and took up the slack in the chain. Bobbie screamed. The Chevy truck started down the highway with me dragging behind. I rolled on my back and tried to absorb some of the scraping with my hips. He went only about twenty feet before he hit the brakes and stopped. The handcuffs bit into my wrists and my body ached. I tasted blood from biting my cheek and heard the truck door open. Bobbie was screaming hysterically. “Please stop! Oh Jesus, please make him stop!”

  Crazy Ake walked back to me and kicked me hard in the ribs. “You best know that’s only a taste.” He unchained the longer chain from my wrists and the back of the bumper and threw the chain in the bed of the truck.

  I spat blood. “Taste of what?”

  “A taste of torment. It’s how I’m going to drag both you and your girlfriend along the highway the rest of the way to Cut Eye if you don’t do exactly what I say. What’ll it be, Rowdy? Answer quick, or I’ll hook up the girl to the bumper too.”

  “We’ll do whatever you say,” I said.

  “Right answer!” He yanked me to my feet and threw me in the bed of the truck, then locked another set of cuffs around the rail so I couldn’t move and threw a tarp over me so I couldn’t be seen by passersby.

  I heard footsteps again in between Bobbie’s screams and then heard a slap and a thud. All went quiet, and after that I didn’t hear Bobbie scream again. The truck door slammed shut and the truck took off. We began to gain speed down the highway.

  In my mind I counted Mississippis and tried to think of a plan. Five minutes passed. Ten minutes. Twenty. An hour passed. Two. Three. We hadn’t changed direction, so when the truck slowed and stopped, I reckoned we were nearly back at Cut Eye.

  The door opened and footsteps came around to the side and the tarp came off. A rough hand unlocked my cuffs from the rail. He grabbed the lapels of my jacket and dragged me out. I noticed by the headlights we were near the sign for the Murray Plant. I also noticed three large duffel bags tied fast to the rear of the truck’s bed, which he must have placed there sometime earlier when he was talking with Bobbie. He clipped me to the truck’s rail so I could stand, then hefted out one of the duffel bags from the bed of the truck, shucked off his deputy’s clothes, and started putting on a dark-breasted twill suit and a pair of fancy shoes. He took out a can of pomade, slicked back his hair, and grinned. I could just see him in the light of the taillights.

  “What did you do with her?” I said. “If you touched her, I’ll kill you.”

  “Relax,” Crazy Ake said. “She’s still squirming in the front seat with a gag in her mouth. Something I bet you wished for a long time ago.”

  I spit his direction. He pasted me in the side of the head with his fist.

  “You have no bargain in this, Rowdy. Absolutely none. So let me explain my plan and how you’re gonna help me get rich. The sooner you help me, the sooner I let your girlfriend go free.”

  “She’s not my girlfriend—and you better.”

  “First thing is you shut your mouth unless spoken to.” He pasted me again, this time in the gut. Again I sucked air.

  “Right now, it’s a quarter after 10 p.m.” He tossed the spent can of pomade into the weeds. “An hour ago four fellas began to play poker two miles from here at the home of Cut Eye’s beloved mayor, Oris Floyd. I know you know him, Rowdy, so I won’t explain why this is such a big deal. Nod if you follow so far.”

  I nodded.

  “The benevolent mayor is hosting a small party tonight. He’s flown in three of his richest friends. One is a Denton Bright, an oilman from Oklahoma. Another is Carl Stanford, a cattleman from San Francisco. I don’t know the third fella’s name, nor do I care. All I know is I’ve kept a close eye on Oris for some time now, and he only plays high stakes poker. Real high stakes. The pot tonight will be at least fifty grand. You following me? Nod if yes.”

  I nodded.

  “Good. From here on out, you’re on a need-to-know basis.” He walked to the passenger side of the truck, opened the door, and yanked Bobbie out. “Say hello to your new partner in crime, Rowdy. She’s a real looker, ain’t she?” He undid her gag and ran his finger down the side of her face. Bobbie looked absolutely white.

  “I’m sorry, Bobbie,” I said.

  “Oh, don’t be sorry,” Crazy Ake said. He undid her handcuffs and escorted her over to me. “A fine flower such as this is what makes our plan truly unique.” He pulled out the revolver from his ankle holster and pointed it at her head. Bobbie’s lips quivered but her stare remained fixed at the man.

  “There’s a better way of doing this,” she said. “A way that doesn’t involve killing. You could be a changed man if you wanted to.”

  Crazy Ake laughed. “Yeah! A much better way. In fact, forgive my indiscretions.” He pointed the revolver at the ground. “I only wanted to ensure you knew what true fear felt like. We are not joking around tonight, young lady, and you need to sense the seriousness of our ambitions. I’m not a man to be trifled with, and I will kill if provoked. Nod if you understand me.”

  Bobbie nodded.

  “Good,” Crazy Ake said. “Because this is where it gets really fun.” He held out the revolver to Bobbie. “Go ahead. Take it. It’s reloaded with all six bullets again. Point it at me if you like, but I’d rather you put it in your handbag for safekeeping.” He chuckled. “This is where I explain how this is truly a better way. You see, I don’t need a gun to get what I want. You’re asking why—am I correct?”

  Tentatively Bobbie took the handgun from Crazy Ake. She looked at it, nodded, then pointed it at the ground.

  Crazy Ake undid the handcuffs around my ankles and wrists. My muscles tensed. I wanted to rush at the man, but I knew him too well to fall for a trap, whatever it was.

  “Before you both pounce on me,” he said, “let me ask if you know where Pachuca is. Either of you—answer if you know.”

  “Just north of Mexico City,” Bobbie said.

  “Correct,” he said. “By tomorrow at precisely 12 o’clock noon I will walk into a telegraph office in Pachuca, Mexico, present identification to the clerk behind the counter, and send a telegraph back to somewhere in Texas saying I’m alive, I’ve arrived safely, and all is well. Would either of you care to know to whom I’m sending the telegraph?”

  “Get to the point,” I said.

  “Tsk, tsk.” Crazy Ake was frothing at the mouth now. “I’m sending the telegraph to Sally Jo Chicory. You remember her, don’t you?”

  I grit my teeth. “What does she have to do with anything?”

  “Sally Jo Chicory is how I stay alive,” he said. “Because of her you both will not only not hamper my plan to get rich in any way, you will also help me, even protect me. I will become like a rose in your hands. One wrong move, and the petals fall from the flower.”

  “Talk plainly,” Bobbie said. “You’re speaking gibberish.”

  Crazy Ake held up his index finger. His eyes were round as dinner plates. “Patience, girlie—we’re talking about what you both love most. You need to know that your father received a visitor this afternoon while you were both up visiting that nut ball at the state loony bin. Well, he did. It was the sheriff of Rancho Springs along with Sally Jo Chicory herself, and I hear that your father didn’t take it as kindly as I hoped he would. You see, the sheriff of Rancho Springs could have hauled your father to jail on a kidnapping charge if he wanted. But I understand they’re old and dear friends, so he let him be.”

  “Kidnapping?” Bobbie’s eyes widened.

  “Yes, kidnapping a poor, dear, five-year-old girl. Susannah Clugman, I believe is her name, although sometimes she’s called Sunny. She really is a sweet girl.”

  “Tou
ch my daughter and I’ll kill you,” I said.

  “No, you won’t kill me,” he said. “Because this, too, is part of tonight’s plan. You see, Rowdy, if you harm me, you will kill her yourself.” He laughed. “And that is why a moment ago I gave this young lady my revolver, since I have no need of it anymore.” He motioned to Bobbie. “Let me explain. I can see you’re confused. The one thing Sally Jo Chicory has held all this time is Sunny’s custody papers. The child legally belongs to her and her poor dead husband, Rance. God rest his soul. You might have sired the child, Rowdy, but you never had a legal right to Sunny—ever.”

  I growled in my throat. Somewhere under my skin I was praying like crazy, but even that praying felt like a growl.

  “Sally Jo and the sheriff of Rancho Springs were so glad when Sheriff Barker released the girl into their care. And that’s where the child went—straightaway back to Sally Jo Chicory’s house. I believe you call it the ‘pigsty’—but that’s so unkind.” Crazy Ake laughed again. “That’s why I absolutely must get to the telegraph office at Pachuca, Mexico, by precisely tomorrow at noon.” He paused and wiped froth from away from his mouth. “No, I sense what you’re scheming, but both her and the child moved to an undisclosed location, and not even I know where she is at this exact moment. But this is the beauty of this plan—and no, it ain’t original with me: evil men have been holding folks ransom since the dawn of time. See, if Sally Jo doesn’t receive my telegraph saying all is well, then Sally Jo Chicory will slit Sunny’s throat.”

  TWENTY-SIX

  Don’t just stand there, Rowdy,” Crazy Ake said. “You should say something.”

  My limbs shook so hard I could barely keep standing. My fists clenched and unclenched. My mouth opened and unopened. I didn’t know whether to hit the man or help him sit down and get comfortable.

  “There’s another suit for you in that other duffel bag,” he said. “I think it’ll fit. We can’t have you showing up at Oris Floyd’s house looking like you were dragged behind a truck.” He laughed and looked up and down at Bobbie’s figure. “What you’re wearing will do fine.”

  My limbs found movement and I grabbed the other bag, turned my back on Bobbie for modesty’s sake, undressed to my skivvies, and put on the suit of clothes that Crazy Ake brought for me to wear.

  “Rowdy, you drive,” he said. “I’ll sit in the middle. Bobbie you sit close to me on the other side. You know your way to the mayor’s house?”

  I nodded.

  “Good then.” We slid in the truck. I started the engine and put it in gear. We turned left onto the road that bore the mayor’s name and started heading east. The headlights cut a dense swath of brightness in the dark. My head was running like a fast train, but all I could think was that we needed to make Crazy Ake’s crazy plan work to save Sunny. We’d deal with the rest later.

  “How we gonna get inside the mayor’s house?” I asked.

  “The plan’s simple. Straight up the middle—the way I like it. His house is well fenced and he keeps three guards out in front, two in back, and two on each side, so there’s no way we can bust our way in. That’s where you and your honey pie are needed.”

  “Call her Miss Barker.” My hands clenched on the steering wheel.

  Crazy Ake ignored my attempt at a command. “The guards will know your face, so they’ll let you pass. Tell them you’ve got some church business to discuss with the mayor and it couldn’t wait until morning. They’ll understand that. They won’t even care that you’ve got a busted lip because you’re known around town for your indiscretions.” He elbowed me in the ribs. “All you need to do is get me safely to the door. Oris doesn’t have a houseboy and always opens the front door himself. You ever been inside his house, Rowdy?”

  “Never.”

  “Well that’s a shame. Because I have. Plenty of times over the past three months. And my name’s not Akan Fordmire anymore, either—at least not as far as he knows me. It’s Daniel Q. Farnsworth. The Q stands for Quigley.” He grinned like a cat. “I’m an oilman from Bartlesville. Least that’s what the mayor thinks, so be sure to call me that all through this job.” He pulled out a business card and handed it to me.

  “Why do you need us to get you past the gate if he knows you already?” I stuck his business card in the front breast pocket of my suit jacket.

  “So many questions, son. It’s like this. I need to set him off track. Help him forget his focus. He and the boys will be looking at your girlfriend because that’s what men do when a pretty girl enters the room. Plus, I need you along for muscle if circumstances turn ugly, and to help carry the bags when we make our getaway. I need Miss Barker here to carry something important for me, to ensure you work hard, and to add color to the job.” He looked at his fingernails and feigned boredom. “Oh, I suppose I could pull another crew together, but I can’t trust any other folks more than I can trust you. You know me, and you owe me your life. That’s a winning combination as far as I’m concerned. Understand where I’m going with this?”

  “I get the picture, yeah.”

  We were almost at the mayor’s driveway. I slowed the truck and turned left. High pillars sat on either side of the road, each featuring a carved ram. A sign over top of the pillars read, “The Trophy Creek Ranch, Cut Eye, Texas.” I pulled the truck up the first part of the driveway and stopped at the gatehouse, about a hundred yards in. A fella stuck his head out of the gatehouse, blinked a few times in my headlights, and held out his hand for me to stop. I recognized the man. I’d fought him a few times at the Sugar House but he didn’t come to church. He tipped his hat and looked over each face in the truck.

  “Reverend Slater. Bobbie. Sir. What brings you to the mayor’s house this time of evening?”

  I cleared my throat. “We picked up Mr. Daniel Farnsworth here at the airport a bit ago. He flew in from Bartlesville and needed a ride over. Gummer wasn’t able to pick him up, so he asked us to do him a favor.” I tried to smile. “Worked out well for us, because we’ve got some permit issues for the church septic field we need to talk to the mayor about anyway.”

  The fella squinted into the cab and eyed Crazy Ake. “Yeah, I’ve seen you here before. How are your oil wells faring?”

  “Like rivers that never end,” Crazy Ake said with a grin.

  “That’s good, Mr. Farnsworth, real good. Say, I’ll need to ask both men to step outside the vehicle for a moment. It’s rules, Reverend. I’m sorry. No weapons inside the house.” The fella looked at Bobbie. “Ma’am, no need to involve you in this.”

  “No problem,” I mumbled. I set the brake and climbed out. Crazy Ake slid out my side. The fella patted us both down and found none.

  “Sorry for the inconvenience, fellas,” he said. “Can’t be too careful these days.”

  “No problem,” Crazy Ake said. “No problem indeed.”

  The gatehouse guard nodded again to Bobbie. The revolver was still in her handbag. Crazy Ake and I climbed back into the truck.

  “Go ahead,” the fella said. He walked ahead of us and opened the gate.

  We drove through the gate and up the rest of the long driveway. The front of the mayor’s house was well lit by a huge wrought-iron chandelier and six sentry lights on poles. A circular fountain sprayed water high into the Texas air. The house rose three stories above ground and was constructed of alternating gray and red brick. Four high white-painted columns bordered the entryway, and the portico was roofed in a vast triangular shape bordered by ornamental carving. Oris Floyd didn’t pay for all this on a mayor’s salary, I knew that much.

  We parked the truck, got out, and climbed the cement stairs leading to the two white and glassed front doors. Crazy Ake carried the two duffel bags like they were suitcases and he planned to stay the night. I grabbed the knocker and rapped hard. Wind whipped around the sides of the house. I shivered.

  Two minutes later the door opened. Oris Floyd was dressed in his ever-present white suit pants but he wore no jacket and had his shirtsleeves rolled up. For a
hat he wore a green poker visor.

  “Well, well, this is a surprise,” he boomed with a hearty voice. “A pleasant surprise indeed. Mr. Farnsworth—we weren’t expecting you tonight, but you’re always welcome at my table.”

  “Thanks very much, Mr. Mayor,” Crazy Ake said. “You must not have received my telegraph. I had a business meeting end early tonight and thought I’d fly out to Cut Eye and enjoy some of your famous Texas hospitality. Mr. Lopez at the filling station wasn’t able to give me a ride from the airstrip, so the good reverend and this lovely young lady were kind enough to bring me over.”

  “Ah. Come in, come in.” Oris Floyd eyed Bobbie and me suspiciously, but he shook hands with Crazy Ake and they slapped each other on the back. He shut the door behind us and added in Crazy Ake’s direction, “We’ve got a card game in the back and you’re welcome to—”

  “Oh—” Crazy Ake interrupted. “The reverend and Miss Barker won’t be staying long enough for games. Miss Barker brought over a message for you, in fact. It’s in her handbag.” He looked sharply at Bobbie. “Miss Barker, give the mayor the message we discussed earlier.”

  Bobbie paused and stared hard at Crazy Ake. The mayor was grinning silently and staring at the top buttons of her blouse now. My heart pounded in my chest and I wondered if she understood what Crazy Ake wanted her to do. Sunny’s life depended on her jumping into the act.

  “Mr. Floyd.” Bobbie’s lips trembled, her voice barely above a whisper. “The message is that you’re to turn around and get down on your knees.” She stuck her hand into her handbag.

  “What’s that you said, sweetie?” the mayor said.

  Bobbie pulled out the revolver and pointed it at the mayor. “You need a hearing aid?” Her voice was still low. “Do it now, and no one gets hurt.”