Revenge at the Rodeo

by Gilbert, Morris

  Allison was bragging, Ellen knew, for the girl could not bear to hurt anything. There was no way to explain to the youngest of her children what a terrible burden killing the man had been for Dani.

  “Don’t say anything to her, Allison,” she repeated firmly. “Your sister is having a very hard time. Just be sweet and show her lots of love.” Glancing out the window, she observed, “Here they come. Set the table—and don’t mention the shooting.”

  Dani came in, smiling at something her father had said, and by the time she had washed, the food was ready. She came back and sat down across from her mother. As soon as the blessing was said, Allison wanted to know, “Dani, will you help me with my dumb old geometry tonight?”

  “Allison, you let Dani eat her breakfast,” Ellen warned, giving her younger daughter a stern look. Then she asked, “You’ll be staying all weekend, Dani? We haven’t seen much of you lately.”

  Dani shook her head. “Afraid not. Too much work piled up at the office.” Then she smiled. “But I’ll be here again tonight, Allison. We can whip the geometry out after supper.”

  “Well—I’ve got an announcement to make.” Dan was shoveling the scrambled eggs into his mouth, but swallowed to speak more clearly. He grinned at Dani. “I had a talk with Doctor Pascoe today. He says I’m as good as new and that I can go back to work.” Washing down the eggs with a stiff jolt of black coffee, he added, “Now you can let the old man handle the hard stuff.”

  Dani was nibbling at a piece of toast. Ellen noticed that she had hardly touched her eggs, just shoved them around with her fork. Now she gave her father a straight glance. “Is that so, Dad?”

  “Well—yes,” Dan said with just a slight hesitation. Then he nodded emphatically. “Oh, he’s cautious, but he gave me a go-ahead.”

  “You didn’t tell me that, Dan,” Ellen countered.

  “Guess I forgot. But I’m all right, he said.”

  Dani pointed the toast at him as if it were a loaded gun. “Dad, I think your heart attack had a bad effect on your morals.”

  “What does that mean?” her father demanded.

  “It means you’ve taken up lying.” Dani took a bite of the toast but kept her eyes on his face. “I had a little talk with Doctor Pascoe myself, just yesterday.”

  Daniel Ross looked, Ellen thought, like a little boy with his hand caught in the cookie jar. She knew him well enough to realize that he was guilty and asked, “What did the doctor really say, Dani?”

  “He said that Dad was much improved and that he could come to the office for a few hours a day, as long as he did no strenuous work.”

  “Well, that’s what I said!” her father protested quickly, his face slightly flushed.

  “No, you didn’t say that.” Dani took a sip of her coffee, studying him clinically. “Your exact words were ‘Doctor Pascoe said I’m as good as new.’”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Dani!” her father protested. “That’s what he meant!”

  “No, it’s not. And you’re not going to come to the office and work yourself into another heart attack.”

  The two of them were staring at each other over the table, and Ellen thought suddenly how much they looked alike. They were both very stubborn people. She intervened at once, “I talked to Doctor Pascoe, too, Dan. And he told me the same thing he told Dani. So you can stay at the office a few hours, a couple days of the week.”

  “Good grief!” Daniel Ross’s face was scored with chagrin, and he added irritatedly, “Man can’t call his soul his own, what with these fuddy-duddy doctors and whining women!” Then he shook his head, coming up with a weak smile. “I should have known better than to try to fool a trained investigator. Well, will it be all right with everyone if I go in for a few measly hours today?”

  Dani nodded. “Yes. You can sit at your desk and study the case files.” She got up and went around to run her fingers through his hair. A smile came to her lips, but she promised sternly, “I’ll send him home at noon, Mother.”

  “Sherlock Holmes never had to put up with this!” he growled.

  “Holmes was a bachelor, dear,” Ellen remarked, then smiling sweetly, added, “‘He that hath wife and children hath given hostages to fortune.’ Don’t eat the rest of those eggs. You can almost see the cholesterol on them!”

  After Dani left to change for work and Allison scrambled to the highway to catch her school bus, Ellen followed Dan into their bedroom. As he changed, she said, “Thought you’d put one over, didn’t you?” She came to stand beside him as he knotted his tie in front of the mirror. Putting her arms around him, she gave him a hard squeeze. “I knew you’d try something like that.”

  He tightened the blue and maroon tie, then gave her a kiss. “I’m about to go nuts, Ellen.” He nodded. “I mean it; I’ve thought lately I’d rather be dead than crazy.”

  “I know,” she whispered. “But be careful! I know how you are when you get on a case. But you’ve got to stay around a long time. Rob and Allison need you. Dani needs you.” She looked up at him and whispered, “And I need you most of all, Dan!”

  He held her quietly, then stepped back. “God’s going to take care of me, Ellen. He didn’t get me through all this to let me die. I’ll take it easy, but Dani needs help. Ben’s been gone for two weeks now—and Dani’s taken up all the slack.”

  “Has she heard from him at all?”

  “Not a word.” Dan slipped into a light tan coat, kissed her, then promised, “I’ll be back about noon.”

  He found Dani waiting in the foyer. The two of them drove to town in separate cars. Angie looked up as they entered the office, a smile touching her lips. “Well, now we can get some work done around this place!”

  “Hi, Angie.” Ross smiled. “You’re looking great.”

  “See to it that he goes home at noon, Angie,” Dani commanded sternly. “Run him out with a stick if you have to. Come on in the office, Dad.”

  “Let Angie fill me in on the broad picture,” he suggested, and he turned toward the door. “Hello, Luke,” he said as Sixkiller came in.

  “Back at work?” Sixkiller asked, shaking hands. “Good to see you, Dan.”

  “Just a part-time errand boy.” Daniel shrugged.

  “Better than me.”

  Dani gave Sixkiller a sharp look. “What does that mean?”

  “Means, I’m unemployed.”

  “No! They didn’t fire you over that Stevens charge!” Dani replied sharply. “Nobody believes you used excessive force on Sweet Willie.”

  Sixkiller shrugged, his dark face impassive. “The police commissioner does. Suspended me for three months.”

  “I’ll give the commissioner a call,” Dan Ross offered, frowning. “He ought to know better than that!”

  “He’s paying back a favor to someone,” Sixkiller explained. “Got his tail in a crack, and I’m the fall guy.” Some of the fatalism that made up the man suddenly came through as he admitted, “Could have been worse, Dan. The do-gooders tried to get him to fire me. He refused to do that. ‘A little vacation, Luke,’ is the way he put it when he gave me the news.”

  “What’ll you do until then?” Dani asked.

  “Drink whiskey and chase women.” Sixkiller’s dark eyes gleamed, and he let his left lid droop in a slight wink that only Dani’s father saw. “What about it, Babe? If I get me a bike, you wanna get a black leather jacket and split? Shake off the shackles of middle-class morality?”

  “You’ll have to get my father’s permission,” Dani replied.

  “Okay by me.” Dan Ross nodded. “You need to broaden your outlook, Dani.”

  “Well, thanks a lot!” Dani objected indignantly. “Father of the year, that’s what you are, Daniel Ross! Just for that, I will go out with this hooligan!”

  Sixkiller grinned. “I thought we’d have a bite at McDonald’s, then catch Championship Wrestling at the Arena. Tonight it’s Chainsaw Bart against the Hungarian Beast, Texas style. Ought to be a fine contest. Pick you up at seven.”


  Dani laughed, but to her chagrin, he did take her to the wrestling match! First he took her to Tavern on the Park, an 1860 landmark with a spectacular view. They began their meal with shrimp remoulade, crabmeat St. Jacques, and fried alligator, and finished with desserts of homemade bread pudding and chocolate mousse.

  “You’re unemployed,” Dani pointed out when the check came. “Let me take care of it.”

  “Nope, I cashed in my old-age pension,” Luke said. Then he looked at the tab and his eyebrows went up. “It’ll just about cover this little snack.”

  They left the restaurant, and when they were in the car, Dani asked, “Where to now?”

  “I told you today,” he reminded her as he started the engine. “The wrestling matches.”

  “Oh, Luke—!”

  “You ever been?”

  “Well, no. . . .”

  “It’ll broaden your cultural base.”

  Dani stared at him, then laughed. “All right. Let’s go.”

  He took her to the arena, and for the next hour she sat there, stunned. The wrestlers were huge, some of them fat, some sleek and padded with muscle. They posed and screamed with rage, pounding each other into the mat with awesome power. But the audience attracted Dani’s attention, and she spent more time watching purple-haired old ladies screeching like banshees and cursing like sailors than she did watching the wrestlers.

  After an hour, when the tag-team match was over—a contest between two huge bearded men who lacked front teeth, wore overalls, and called themselves the Hillbilly Horrors and two sleek men who were billed as Captain Democracy and the Freedom Kid—Sixkiller sighed. “Well, it goes downhill from here on.”

  On the way to the Ross home, Dani questioned, “Luke, it’s beyond me. Why do people watch such stuff?”

  “You didn’t like it?”

  “It’s so—phony!” Dani slumped down in the seat and thought about it. “You know when one wrestler gets the other by the wrist, then puts his foot on his jaw—and kicks him in the face?”

  “What about it?”

  “Why, just one kick would half kill a man! But they kicked and kicked, and nobody even got hurt, not really. I mean, they pound on each other and throw each other around, but you can see it’s all practiced. Why would anyone watch a sport like that?”

  “It’s not a sport,” Sixkiller shrugged. “It’s a drama. Used to be a sport. Back in 1936 George Hackenschmidt and Ed Lewis wrestled for the world’s heavyweight wrestling championship on the level.” He took the Porsche between two semis in a careless fashion, then continued, “Lewis got a head-lock on Hackenschmidt, and the two stayed locked on the canvas for nearly an hour. Can you picture the audience tonight watching that?”

  “No!”

  “Right! So when the wrestlers found out that the crowd wanted action and crazy stunts, they gave it to them. But what it really is, Dani, is some kind of morality play. It’s always good against evil.”

  Dani thought about it, then nodded. “That’s right. One of the wrestlers was always a good guy and the other one a rotten villain.”

  “Now you got it! So the fans go to scream for the good guy and to spit on the bad guy. That’s what it’s all about.”

  “But can’t they see it’s not real?”

  “Naw. It’s as real as the soaps, wouldn’t you say? Those guys appear to get hurt and shed blood once in a while, so the real fan will say, ‘How about all that blood, hey? What about that?’ And the wrestlers sometimes put capsules in their mouths, to spit out what looks like blood. Some of them will nick themselves with a little blade. A teaspoonful of blood looks bad when it’s on a man’s eyes.”

  “It’s all just a show,” Dani concluded. “It’s not real.”

  Sixkiller said nothing until they pulled up in front of her parents’ home. When they got to the door, he maintained, “Nothing much is real in this world, Dani. Most of the stuff I see is just as phony as professional wrestling.”

  Dani turned to face him. “But not all of it, Luke.”

  He hesitated, then nodded. “Right. There are some splashes of light in the dark.”

  “Why, that’s beautiful!” Dani said, looking at him in surprise. “Is it poetry?”

  “Never read the stuff,” he denied quickly and then would have kissed her, but the door opened. He turned. “Hey, Dan, you really are old school, aren’t you? Waiting for the boyfriend to bring little Dani home from the high-school dance.”

  Dan Ross didn’t smile. “Come on in, both of you.”

  “What is it, Dad?”

  “It’s Ben,” he reported. He bit his lip and handed her a slip of paper. “This is the number for Baptist Hospital in Dallas. He’s there.”

  “What’s wrong with him?”

  “I don’t know. They wouldn’t tell me much. The only identification he had was your card, as his employer. They want you to call right away. Ask for Doctor Rogers.”

  At once Dani moved to the phone and dialed the number. “I’m Danielle Ross. Let me speak to Doctor Rogers, please.” She waited, tapping her foot anxiously. After what seemed a long time, she spoke into the mouthpiece, “Yes, Doctor Rogers, this is Danielle Ross. Yes, he works for me. What’s wrong?” She listened without comment, and both men saw that her face turned pale, and her fingers were white, so tightly did she grip the phone. Finally she said, “Yes, I’ll be in as soon as I can get there, Doctor. Be sure he gets the best you have.”

  “What is it?” her father asked as soon as she replaced the receiver in its cradle.

  “He’s in a coma.” Dani’s voice was steady, but she put her hands behind her to conceal the trembling—something both men noticed. “He’s been badly beaten and hasn’t regained consciousness since he was brought in.” She suddenly straightened up, announcing, “I’m going to Dallas.”

  “You don’t need to drive, Dani,” her father suggested.

  “I’m all right!”

  Sixkiller put in, “I’m unemployed, remember? We’d better take your car, though.”

  Dani nodded. “Thanks, Luke. I’ll get an overnight case.”

  When she left, Dan confided, “I’m glad you’re going.” He hesitated, not knowing how much Sixkiller knew, then added, “She’s been having a problem anyway, and this won’t help.”

  “She shook up over killing that guy?” Sixkiller nodded in answer to his own question. “Yeah, I’ve seen it eat on her. Look, Dan, I’ll stay with her, drive her back and all. Try not to worry, you and Ellen.”

  Dan took a deep breath, then found a piece of a smile. “You’re a good guy, Luke. We’ll feel a lot better if you are with her. And if she wants to stay, that’s okay. I can handle things in the office. Get a little help, if we need it.”

  “Won’t help her if you kill yourself working, Dan.”

  “No. I’ll watch it.”

  They talked quietly until Dani came down. Ellen was with her, and they said their good-byes quickly. “Call when you get any word, Dani,” Ellen called out as they got into the car.

  “I will. Go to bed and don’t worry.”

  As the car pulled out of the driveway and headed for the interstate, Ellen whispered as an echo to Dani’s parting word: “Don’t worry.” She turned and leaned against Dan’s chest. “Has any parent ever figured out how to do that?”

  He held her tightly, peering at the red gleam of the taillights as they faded, and shook his head. “No—and no parent will. Come on inside and we’ll say a prayer for her. And for Ben, too.”

  Sixkiller took Interstate 10 through Baton Rouge, then at Lafayette took 49 North. Except for a detour at Alexandria, where the cloverleaf was being completed, he sent the Cougar flashing down the highway at speeds up to ninety. Once, just past Shreveport, he was stopped by a state trooper, but he showed his badge, told a lie about his mission, and was waved on. Interstate 20 out of Shreveport ran straight into Dallas. Although it was a little over 500 miles from New Orleans to Dallas, it was only 8:15 A.M. when they pulled up in front of Baptist Hospital.


  Dani got out of the car, her legs so stiff from the long hours of sitting that Luke had to catch her as she staggered. She said with a grimace, “Quick trip, Luke.”

  “Yeah, Can you make it now?”

  “Sure.”

  They entered by the front door, and the gray-haired lady at the information desk told them, “Ben Savage—yes, he’s in intensive care. That’s on the third floor.”

  They took the elevator to the intensive care waiting room. Two men and one woman—all looking worn and haggard—sat in the uncomfortable-looking chairs covered with green vinyl. All three looked up as Sixkiller and Dani entered, then dropped their eyes.

  “We’d like to see Ben Savage,” Dani explained to the nurse who sat behind the desk.

  She looked at them, then ran her pink fingernail down a paper, stopping at a name. “He’s Doctor Rogers’ patient. Have you talked to the doctor?”

  “No. Is he in the hospital?”

  “I don’t think so. You’ll need to speak with him. But Mr. Savage can only have one visitor, and only for ten minutes every four hours.”

  Dani shook her head and was about to argue, but the waiting woman, who sat beside the door, got up and stepped closer. “Are you Miss Ross?”

  “Yes.” Dani looked at the woman, who appeared to be in her middle twenties. She was dark, with very black hair cut short, brown eyes, and a squarish face. “This is Lieutenant Sixkiller.”

  “I’m Ruth Cantrell.” She hesitated, then glanced down at the two men. “Could we have a cup of coffee? There’s a cafeteria on the first floor.”

  Automatically Dani responded, “Yes, of course.” She and Sixkiller left the waiting room with the woman, who said nothing until they reached the cafeteria. “You drove all night, I expect. The food is good here.”

  Dani saw that Ruth Cantrell was having difficulty of some sort. The ceremony of eating together would probably loosen her up, Dani decided. “Sounds good. You hungry, Luke?”

  “Sure.”

  The three of them got trays and soon were settled at a table in a corner of the room. The cafeteria was only half full, and they had some privacy. Dani at once bowed her head and said a silent thanksgiving. When she looked up, she saw the other woman staring at her.