by JL Curtis
Turning back, the old man raised the horses to a canter, and they were soon back at the corral. Rex, tongue hanging out, trotted over to the water trough and drank for what seemed like five minutes, and the old man cussed. “Dammit, I forget to put him in before he does that, now he’s going to be wanting to go outside half the damn night. Well, at least I know where forty-eight of the fifty-two cows are, and I guess Toby and Francisco can go back up in a couple of days and ride the fence to make sure that’s not down anywhere.”
Matt looked at the old man. “You saw forty-eight cows? Where the hell were they? I don’t think I saw over maybe thirty total.”
The old man chuckled. “Well, it comes with practice, Matt, and knowing what the cows look like and where they like to hide, makes it easy. And before you ask, a good cowman does know all his beeves; I worked for old man Sheppard when I was a kid, and he knew over 500 head by sight. Now granted if you had Black Angus, you might have a problem, since they’re all black, but I never got into them. We had Charolias for a while then went to Brahmans, mainly because they were better able to stand the heat, even if they were a little smaller. When Daddy died, we pretty much sold off all the cows, and it wasn’t till about fifteen years ago I started back. Since I’m not raising them so much for beef as for the land use, I picked up some Longhorns since they are the more ‘native’ cattle for here, and not many folks have or want them. We’ve got a pretty good set of breeding lines working now, and loan bulls and cows back and forth quite a bit.”
The ride back to the house passed quickly, with the old man giving more history of the ranch and surrounding area. After turning the horses loose in the corral and stowing the saddles and other gear, they trooped back to the house.
Pouring himself and Matt glasses of iced tea, they sat at the table and the old man continued, “Actually, there’s a guy that makes pretty good money with what he calls the ‘Bull Bus.’ He’s got a pretty nice big Dodge and special air conditioned trailer and he hauls high dollar bulls all over the Southwest for breeders and cowmen.”
Matt just shook his head and laughed at that image.
15 On Patrol
While Matt and the old man talked, Jesse and Aaron walked into dispatch and Lisa smiled at them. “Thanks for feeding us yesterday. That was great food! And as an atta boy, you get car 214 and Sector three today!” Turning and pulling the keys down she flipped them to Jesse adding, “Actually the reason you get it is lard ass finally broke the seat back in 203, so it’s in the shop, and you need to stop by the sheriff’s office before you leave.”
Laughing, Jesse caught the keys. “Thanks, this will only be the second time I’ve ever gotten to drive a unit with less than ninety thousand miles on it that I don’t fall in a damn hole in the seat every time I get in it! Anything of interest today?”
Lisa held up a hand, poked around on the dispatch station, and came up with a sheet of paper, “The only things I know that is going on are one DPS unit working I-ten in our Sector two, no BOLOs, no other alerts. We’re short-staffed today; Sgt. Holmes is out sick, so it’s you to me to the sheriff if anything comes up. Sector two is uncovered, but other than that the usual folks are out and about.”
“Thanks, Lisa. We’ll do the checks as soon as I find out what the sheriff wants, and we’ll be on the road. C’mon, Aaron, let’s go see what the boss man wants.”
As Jesse and Aaron walked out Aaron asked, “Isn’t that a little light on the turnover? In the shows you always see a roll call with somebody reading off all kinds of info to the whole shift and they then get a turnover from the folks they are relieving.”
“Well, we’re reserves,” Jesse answered as they walked down the hall. “And being so low on manpower it’s kinda devolved to dispatch to handle things, and the sergeant being out reduces it even more. I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s why the sheriff is in here, since he normally takes Sunday as his down day and is usually at church.”
Knocking on the sheriff’s door, they walked in to see the sheriff in blue jeans and a polo shirt with his boots up on the desk and a report sitting on his lap. Pushing his reading glasses up on his head he welcomed them in.
“Hey, Jesse, good to see you remembered you actually were scheduled to come in today; I thought you might get distracted or something. Aaron, are you carrying?”
“Yes sir, is that a problem?”
“Nope, just wanted to know what was available if something came up. I assume you’re also shotgun qualified, right?”
“Yessir, both breaching and tactical.”
“Okay, with Holmes out anything that comes up, get to dispatch and they’ll bump it to me. It’s been quiet all day, but you never know. If you need back up, it’s going to take a while, so Aaron, if there are any issues, I’d like you to back up Jesse until another unit can get on scene.” With that the sheriff magnanimously made the sign of the cross and said, “Bless you my son, you’re now a temporary Deputy Sheriff of Pecos County for the next eight hours. Go forth and do nothing! Now y’all get out of here and get on the road.”
Jesse grinned. “So does he get a badge now, sheriff?”
Laughing, the sheriff answered, “Oh hell no… But I’ll consider this a blanket authorization for you and Matt until you leave. Now go, dejas, get the hell outta here!”
Jesse and Aaron went out to the car, grabbed Jesse’s bag, rifle and spare equipment and loaded unit 214 up. Jesse ran the comms, lights and safety checks, and put the unit in service.
Aaron kept trying to get comfortable in the right front seat, but the cage and radio, combined with his long legs didn’t leave him a lot of room. Looking over at Jesse he asked, “Are you sure this is a good idea? I feel like I’m back in a damn Hummer again. The only difference is this one has no armor on it.”
Jesse reached over and patted Aaron’s hand. “I’m sorry, but at least nobody is shooting at us in this thing, unlike what you had to put up with, and this way at least we get some time to ourselves without fifty questions and people wondering what is going on.”
Aaron squeezed Jesse’s hand. “Yeah, I guess you’re right; but damn I can’t get comfortable over here. And I think you were right last night it was better that we didn’t try to sneak off… There were way too damn many people around asking questions and watching us!”
Jesse just smiled. “Well, there is always tonight, we’ll get back late and I know Papa is always asleep by nine, ten at the latest because he gets up at five. And Francisco and Juanita won’t say a damn thing, since they like you.”
Aaron grinned. “Hell, I’m more worried about Francisco shooting my ass. He does not look like somebody to mess with, much less the old man! I think Juanita would just cut me up and feed me to the hogs.”
Pulling out and heading up 18 to their sector Jesse thought about what she was about to say, and whether she should, but realized she didn’t want to hide anything from Aaron. Glancing over, she saw Aaron was automatically checking the right side and scanning just like a deputy would, and suddenly she realized he’d done that for real, with real consequences if he missed something. Thinking of Sector three, she took a quick right onto a farm road and told Aaron, “This is the Southern end of the sector, and unless we get a call we basically roam and check out places and things like the rigs, storage tanks and houses out this way. Then I’ll cut back over toward eighteen and go up North and on the other side of eighteen for a while. In a couple of hours we can run back to town and grab something to go and then hit some different sections of the sector.”
Pausing, she cleared her throat. “And I want to tell you something about Francisco and Juanita that you need to know, but you have to keep to yourself.”
Aaron looked sharply at Jesse. “What?”
“Seriously Aaron, this is life or death stuff, literally; but I don’t want to hide anything from you. Those aren’t their real names. Francisco is a former Federale who was targeted for murder by the cartel back in the day. Papa knew and worked with him when he was with DE
A. I was just a little girl, but I remember one night Juanita came to the door covered in blood and crying and begged Papa to help her. Papa got Francisco into the house and called the doc, he patched up Francisco and he lived but if you ever see him with his shirt off, he’s got five or six bullet holes in him and a couple of knife wounds. And even worse, they killed both their children.”
Aaron just looked at Jesse with a stunned expression. “How did they get here?”
“I don’t know, but I think Papa called some people and Francisco and Juanita ‘disappeared’ for their protection. They’ve lived and worked here since, and as far as everybody here knows they were ‘hired’ by Papa to help run the ranch. I know Francisco can out-shoot me, and both of them always have a gun on them. You’ll never see it, but I’ll guarantee they are carrying and willing to shoot, if it comes to that. I think the sheriff may know part of the story, because he was a young deputy that Papa trained a long time ago, but he’s never said anything and he’s one of the few that Francisco and Juanita seem comfortable around,” Jesse said nervously and shook her head.
“Wow, that is a helluva story, and it brings up so many questions, I mean with your Papa alone. After what I saw yesterday, and this morning with us shooting… I mean when I met y’all I didn’t think much about it until that whole deal with the coin. Matt kept telling me the old man was not one to cross, but damn how well-connected is he? And some of those things up on the shelf in the library aren’t from the US of A.” Aaron just stopped, not wanting to go further.
“Aaron, I just don’t know. Papa never talks about them, and there are times when he just ‘disappears’ for a week or two or three. And he deflects any questions I asks, and I guess he always has. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything after all, just forget it please.”
Aaron quickly answered, “No I mean it opens up a lot of questions, but at least I know not to step on my…”
Grinning Jesse asked, “Your dick? No please don’t step on that!” And blushed along with Aaron.
Settling back and feeling more relaxed now, they continued to chat as Jesse did sweeps through the sector, They chatted about inconsequential things to pass the time as they listened to the radio and took in the countryside.
At the same time, DPS[15] Trooper Michelle Wilson was pulling in behind a van stopped on I-10 changing a tire. She picked up the mic, “Dispatch 171, Eastbound Ten out by the test track exit making a courtesy stop on a van with a problem, be outta the car for a few.”
“Roger 171, call when you’re 10-8.”
As Trooper Wilson got out of the car she sighed and stretched in relief and started walking toward the van. As she did so, two Hispanic men came around the back of the van one rolling a tire and the other carrying a jack and lug wrench. Trooper Wilson smiled at them and rested her hand on the butt of her pistol without thinking, since they were both large men and pretty rough-looking.
As she approached, one of the men opened the back door to the van and she noticed what looked like a black curtain covering the back area and hanging almost to the floor. She wasn’t sure, but thought he said something; but she didn’t catch it. She said, “Buenas Tardes Senors, ¿Cómo está?”
The Hispanic holding the jack and lug wrench merely nodded to her, and the other one stepped to the side of the door and turned to face her suddenly he yelled, “Dispararle!”
Trooper Wilson froze for a second trying to figure out what that word meant and realized ‘something’ was sticking out of the curtain as a flash bloomed in front of her.
She felt a crushing blow to her chest and that was the last thing she knew as she crumpled to the ground in front of the shooter. The second Hispanic rolled her under the front of her car as the first one quickly threw the tire, jack and lug wrench in the van and slammed the door.
Running to the driver’s seat, he jumped in as the other one ducked into the passenger’s side. The van pulled away from the shoulder and continued up the road as an argument broke out inside the van. They decided they had to get off I-10, and try to get up to I-20. The passenger pulled out a map with their route and traced the quickest way up to I-20, directing the driver to take the next exit.
Fifteen minutes later, the DPS dispatcher heard a panicked voice come over the radio.
“Help, can anybody hear me? There’s a police officer hurt out here.”
The dispatcher answered, “Sir, where are you and what is the car number?”
“Umm, we’re in the eastbound lane of I-ten and I think we’re a couple of miles from someplace called Fort Stockton. I don’t know what you mean car number.”
“Sir, look on the roof of the car, there is a large number painted there, please tell me what it is, and can you tell me what is wrong with the officer?”
“Uh, there’s a, uh… Looks like 171, yeah 171 on top of the car; my wife, hang on.”
The Dispatcher hit the alert tone for all units, “All units, 171 Trooper Wilson in trouble, I-ten eastbound by the test track, civilian on scene situation unknown at this time. Standby for update.” Turning to another dispatcher she yelled, “Call Pecos County and see if they have anybody close, and get them to respond, and get an ambulance rolling!”
The other dispatcher jumped on the phone immediately and started dialing.
Moments later, Jesse’s radio and all others in the Pecos County net went off with an alert tone. “All units, DPS trooper down, I-ten eastbound near the test track, any unit close to there respond. 202, what is your Twenty?”
“Ah, 202 is two miles south on sixty-seven, I’m 10-51 now ETA three minutes.”
Jesse immediately reached down and punched the area common frequency on and held up her hand to Aaron.
“Uh, er… My wife says it looks like a female officer and she’s rolled underneath the front end of the car, but she doesn’t see any blood. She said she can feel what she thinks is a pulse.”
“Thank you. Is there anyone else there, or did you see anyone when you pulled up?
And are you in front of or behind the trooper’s car?”
“Ahh, in front. How long before somebody gets here, my wife thinks she’s not well.”
“Sir, it will be at least five to ten minutes,” the dispatcher replied. “Please describe what you and your wife are wearing so we’ll know who you are when the responding officers arrive.”
“My wife says she’s bleeding from the mouth, but she’s breathing at least for now.
Ahh, I’m wearing blue jeans and a red polo shirt and my wife is in a… uh… flowery print dress.”
“Dispatch 202 on common, show me 10-23 at scene, DPS unit, red Honda; one Whiskey Mike, jeans and red shirt. One Whiskey Fox print dress.”
The DPS dispatcher went out on common, “Roger 202, advise.”
Deputy Hart came out of the car with gun in hand, and told the man and woman to put their hands on the car; as he quickly moved to the front of the car, he kept both of them in sight as he reached down and felt for a pulse on Trooper Wilson.
Straightening, he quickly looked at the Honda and noted it was parked on what appeared to be fresh burnout tracks. “Dispatch, 202 on common, I have a pulse, ETA for Rescue?”
“202 three minutes.”
“Roger, securing two individuals at this time. Requesting backup ASAP.”
“202, backup enroute, ETA three to five minutes.”
Deputy Hart proceeded to handcuff both the man and women over their protest, telling them they needed to sort out the situation before he could release them. He walked them back to his car as another DPS unit arrived along with the ambulance.
The paramedic and EMT eased Trooper Wilson out from under the front of the car on a backboard and slowly rolled her over. She was bleeding from the mouth, but alive.
The paramedic suddenly realized he was looking at her vest through the remains of her shirt and this had been done by one or more gunshots. He yelled at the arriving trooper sergeant they had a shooting situation and they needed to pull her vest off to se
e if she had any wounds.
The trooper immediately got on the radio to dispatch, putting out that this was now a shooting scene.
The dispatcher went out with an alert on the common channel. “All units, update on scene on Interstate ten, officer down situation is now officer shot. All units be aware armed and dangerous individual or individuals are potentially within response area. Vehicle unknown, direction of travel unknown, number of shooters involved unknown. All units remain alert.”
Jesse and Aaron looked at each other grimly, and Aaron asked, “Now, what Jesse? Do you need to take me back and go do something?”
Jesse thought about it. “No, we’re far enough off ten, I’m pretty sure they are hauling butt either east or west on ten trying to put as much distance between the scene and them as they can. We’ll just continue where we are unless we hear different.”
The paramedic had loosened Trooper Wilson’s vest and determined that none of the rounds had penetrated the protective shield, but at best she had broken ribs and possibly a collapsed lung. Thankfully, the round had not hit dead center, but she still hadn’t recovered consciousness; looking at the blood pressure, respirations, and oxygen saturation, the paramedic decided she needed to go to the hospital now. As they strapped her to the stretcher and loaded up their equipment, the trooper sergeant moved to her side and looked closely at the vest. Taking out his knife, he pried a smashed pellet out of the remnants of the vest.
As the crew placed the trooper in the back of the rig and left code three, lights ablaze and siren going, Deputy Hart walked over to the trooper sergeant. “The Honda is clean, and I think they might be parked on the tracks left by the perp’s vehicle. I did locate one spent Remington twelve-gauge shell, and I’ve got it covered with a cup and my glove on top of it.”
The trooper sergeant held the pellet between his gloved fingers. “Twelve gauge?”
“Yep. I haven’t looked but is her car configured with a camera that we can run back?”
