Gold Dust

by Reavis Z. Wortham

  The ring tightened and James slipped his arm around Pepper. “Somebody else from Center Springs?”

  “No. An old man who’s lived in Powderly all his life. His granddaughter brought him in about an hour ago, but it was too late. He showed the same symptoms and had been in for surgery.”

  “It’s the hospital, then.” Ned’s eyes flashed.

  “Nope, and remember, Top was already sick when he came in here. The man was a heavy smoker all his life. I’m seeing a pattern here that involves folks with weak or damaged lungs, and then a secondary ailment kicks in. In Top’s case it’s his asthma. In Curtis Gaines’, it was that small surgery and probably the fact that he’s sprayed chemicals all his life. I doubt that did him any good in the long run.”

  “One feeds off the other?”

  “Both pull the body’s defenses down.” The rattling wheels of a gurney caused Heinz to turn and watch the attendants roll Top down the hallway. Ned and Miss Becky started toward the door, but Heinz held up a hand to stop them. “Give ’em a minute. We’re putting him in an oxygen tent and keeping up with the antibiotics. From there, it’s up to him. He’s in crisis right now. The next twelve hours will tell the tale.”

  “The Lord’ll bring him through.”

  Pepper coughed softly into her hand and the response was electric. She gave the adults a wide-eyed look. “What? I just inhaled some spit.”

  The weekend passed slowly. James and Ida Belle took the kids home, but the older folks stayed at the hospital. Miss Becky sat with Top while Ned and Tom Bell fidgeted in the waiting area with friends and relatives who came to offer their sympathies and support.

  Frenchie dropped by with a box full of food after she closed the café. “I’ve got fresh coffee here and donuts. Y’all call the house if you need anything.”

  Ned gave her a pat on the arm. “Thank you, gal.”

  Judge O.C. Rains stepped off the elevator. “Any news?”

  Ned turned from Frenchie, who gave the judge a hug. She patted O.C.’s arm. “Didn’t bring any pie.”

  “Probably won’t want any for a while.”

  She gave him a sad look and left.

  Ned moved closer to his old friend. “Tonight’ll tell the tale.”

  “Heinz is good. Top’ll be all right.”

  “This is all wrong, O.C.” Ned lowered his voice that quavered. “If he don’t make it, and can’t let loose, I don’t think I can—”

  The judge cut him off and scanned the room, nodding at the worried adults. “Let’s not think about that right now.”

  The elevator arrived and Cody stepped out. He paused at the door of the full waiting room and motioned for Ned, Tom, and O.C. The somber men followed him to the end of the hall and into an unused room with two empty beds.

  Cody took off his hat and placed it upside down on the overbed hospital tray. “I did a little digging after I heard that Curtis Gaines died from the same thing.”

  “Figured you would.” Ned rubbed his head. His hat was in the waiting room.

  Tom hooked a thumb into the front pocket of his jeans and leaned against the wall. “What’d you find out?”

  The sheriff told them.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Cody knew something was up that morning the minute he stepped out of the car in Curtis Gaines’ yard. Curtis’ much younger and unusually well-dressed girlfriend came off the porch steps to meet him. “Howdy, Sherri Lynn.”

  The slender woman shifted from one foot to the other. Her simple Broadcloth white shirt with print flowers and casual brown culottes belted at the waist made her seem even younger. The south wind blew her straight brown hair in her face. “Sheriff.”

  He slammed the door on his sheriff’s car. “I’m sorry about Curtis.”

  Her eyes flicked from Cody, to his badge, and then his car before twitching back to his face. “None of us expected it.”

  “Least of all him.” Cody watched her twitch. “You’re nervous.”

  “No I’m not.”

  “Yes you are.” He’d learned long ago to be direct with people. “You want to tell me what’s up?”

  “Other than my boyfriend was hired by two city fellows driving a dark car to do something he wouldn’t talk about, and then it killed him?”

  “That’s a start. They pay him enough for his trouble?”

  Her gaze slipped away. He watched her look for an anchor in the pasture behind him, then skip across the wide yard before resting on the airplane hangar to his left.

  “Sherri Lynn, what do you know about it?”

  “Not much.” She paused. “I drove by the hangar that morning and saw them over there. Curtis told me he had a job that day and didn’t need me around, so I ran some errands and went back by an hour later and saw the men sitting on the hood of their car. The plane was gone. I came back past again on the way to his house after they left and his plane was there.

  “When Curtis came in for supper, he showed me a stack of bills and said our ship had come in. He said we didn’t need to worry about money anymore, and gave me some cash to go buy us a new color television set.”

  “How much did they give him?”

  She shrugged, still holding the hair out of her face. “I don’t remember.”

  Cody looked off in the distance at a line of trees. A martin house not far away was working alive with birds. “You know, money is an interesting thing. When I was a kid, I was at a family gathering when one of my uncles called Uncle Ned around behind a car. I went with him, because I was nosey.

  “This uncle, who I won’t name ’cause he’s still alive, dug in his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills. He counted out a hundred and fifty dollars into Ned’s hand, paying him back for what he’d borrowed years before.”

  Cody paused and waved a honeybee away from his face. “Here’s the thing. I was just a kid, but I remember the amount. Money sticks in your head. So let me ask you again, how much money did those city people pay?”

  She shifted from foot to foot, bleeding off energy. “He didn’t tell me.”

  “’course he did, and you’re already spending it and him barely in the grave.”

  Shocked, Sherri Lynn stepped back. “How’d you know?”

  He crossed his arms and leaned against the hood. “Them shorts or whatever they are still have the tag on ’em.”

  She looked at the tag and deflated.

  “So how much was it?”

  “One pack was ten thousand dollars.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “They ripped him off. There was a second pack, but it was a bunch of ones with hundred dollar bills on either side.”

  “They call that a flash roll in Vegas.”

  “Whatever you want to call it. It all came to ten thousand and four hundred dollars.”

  “To spray for one day.”

  “Said they’d send him more every year. They thought it was important, and so did he.”

  “That ain’t it. They paid him an ass-load of money and he took it, not caring if it was dirty or not.”

  They stared at each other for an entire minute before Cody surrendered. “Anything else?”

  “He was coughing the next day and didn’t fly. He’d come down with a bug that wore him down until he finally started spitting up blood. That’s when we come to the hospital.”

  Chapter Thirty-four

  “And died.” Judge Rains half-sat on the edge of the bed.

  “That’s right. Y’all know the rest.”

  “So this all leads back to those two men?”

  “I don’t know where it leads, Judge. I’m just telling you what I found out.”

  Tom Bell’s eyes went flint hard. “What were they wearing?”

  Cody crossed his arms and half sat on the bed. “She said dark suits and sunglasses.”

  “Driv
ing a dark car.”

  “That’s what she said.”

  “I bet it was a rent car. Those sound like government men.” He shook his head. “The damned Cold War has come to Texas, and it’s a cryin’ shame.”

  O.C. turned his attention to Tom Bell. “You have an idea.”

  “Yessir. Sounds to me like they hired Curtis to do something for them that killed him.”

  Ned shook his head. “But what would city people want a crop duster to spray?”

  Before Tom could offer an answer, a nun with a pursed mouth appeared in the doorway. “Gentlemen, this is not a meeting room. We’ll have to clean it again now.”

  All four ducked their heads, not wanting to draw the wrath of the sour woman wearing a black habit. “Mr. Parker?”

  Cody and Ned looked up.

  Her expression softened. “Mr. Ned Parker. Someone’s on the waiting room phone for you.”

  “Who is it?”

  “I didn’t ask. He called you by name, though.”

  Ned walked down to the waiting room and picked up the receiver that was lying on the table. “This’ Ned.”

  “You don’t know me, but I have some information you need.”

  He frowned at the unfamiliar voice. “About what?”

  “Your grandson. Now listen carefully. I’m only going to say this once and I’ll hang up. The kid is sick from a bacterial agent the CIA released in your community. They call it simulated warfare experiments. It was supposed to be benign, but that isn’t the case. This isn’t the first time they’ve done this in the U.S.

  “They ran one in Canada and a few years ago the experiment they conducted in San Francisco wound up making people sick, too. More than one person died. That’s all I can tell you.”

  “You know so much about this, you’re in on it too. Why’d you call?”

  The caller hesitated. “I can’t do this to our people anymore. I just thought you deserved to know what happened. Goodbye.”

  “Wait!” There was no answer, only the dial tone that quickly turned into an annoying buzz. He hung up, but the phone rang again. He snatched it off the cradle. “Ned Parker here.”

  The voice was different, and very familiar. “Mr. Ned. This’ John. Didn’t expect you to answer. How’s Top?”

  “He ain’t good right now.”

  “I’m sorry about that, and for not being there with y’all, but my baby boy Bass Reeves is in the hospital, sick and coughing, and I’m hoping it ain’t the same thing Top has.”

  Ned’s blood ran cold. “This hospital?”

  John grunted. “Nossir. We’re at the Negro hospital, South General.”

  Ned picked up his hat from the end table and weighed it in his hand. “That baby has a cold in his chest all the time. It’s probably nothing.”

  Tom Bell returned and Ned hung up when they finished, ignoring the looks from those who’d been listening. He crossed the floor and leaned in to the old Ranger. “Tom, I just got a call that said the CIA’s behind Top’s being in here, and Curtis Gaines’ death. We’ve got to track this thing down.”

  “Cody’ll do it.”

  “No. Not the law. You and me.”

  “Ned, you are the law.”

  Ned didn’t tell him that the fear and anguish over using the Poisoned Gift was rapidly overtaken by a building red rage that pushed everything else to the side. “That, and a granddaddy who’s mad as hell.”

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Deputy Anna Sloan and Stan Ewing waited for Lucas DeWitt on Monday morning in the parking lot full of blowing dirt in front of the Round Rock sale barn. Covered cattle pens attached to the sale barn took up two-thirds of the structure and stretched a hundred yards behind the building. The only sound above the growling trucks was the bawling of uneasy cattle.

  The constant south wind was setting her teeth on edge and she looked forward to the promised cool front the weathermen said was on the way. The air was full of dust and the smell of cow manure, diesel exhaust, and cedar. Most of the vehicles in the lot were pickups, and many were attached to cattle trailers. A two-lane highway rose and fell into the distance, following the rolling contours of the hill country.

  Anna was in the passenger seat of Ewing’s new 1968 Ford pickup. “Who is this guy?”

  He rolled down the window and hung his arm out the door. “Stock salesman. I’ve met him a time or two in the past. He knows just about everybody in the business and can sell you some cows direct, or steer you towards a feller in your part of the country that’ll do the same.”

  “It’ll cut out the middle man, as far as sales are concerned. What do you think he’ll charge me for the introduction?”

  Stan’s eyes changed for a moment. “Make sure it’s money.”

  Her forehead wrinkled. “What do you mean by that?”

  He held up a hand. “Nothing on you, but this is a man’s world. Some of these old boys don’t think the way I do, or you. Talk to him straight, and ask him what it’ll take to buy his cows, cash on the barrelhead.”

  Anna studied the man she’d only known for a short time. You never knew what was going on behind another person’s eyes, especially a near-stranger she’d met in a dance hall.

  “Fine then. What do you think you’ll get out of all this?”

  “Maybe another date?”

  “We haven’t had one, yet.”

  “We danced.”

  “That’s not the formal definition of a date.”

  “It’s a start.”

  “It could be a finish too, buddy.” She gave him a grin to soften the comment.

  A truck slowed on the highway and pulled into the lot, stopping even with Stan’s door. A thick, gray-haired man with a crewcut mirrored Stan’s elbow out the window. “Howdy.”

  “Lucas.”

  “Who’s that with you?”

  “Anna Sloan. She’s the one wants to buy some cows.”

  “She don’t look like no stock buyer to me.” Lucas chewed the soggy stub of his cigar. He grunted. “I don’t usually deal with women. Go inside and buy all you want.”

  Anna leaned forward, already disliking the man. “I’m trying to save money. In the end, you’ll be dealing with cash, not a woman.”

  “You got it on you?”

  “Of course not. Am I buying from you?”

  “I doubt it. I can give you a phone number or two for a price.”

  “Folks down here?”

  “Could be. Where you from?”

  “Northeast Texas.”

  “That covers a lot of territory.”

  “Give me numbers for people from Amarillo to Texarkana, then.”

  Lucas grunted, and Anna disliked him even more. She never cared for men who sounded like hogs when they were thinking.

  “Come get in the truck with me.”

  Stan pitched his hat onto the dash. “Now hold on, Lucas.”

  The man held up a hand. “I just don’t want to holler across you.”

  Anna yanked the door handle, glad she had a little snub-nosed thirty-eight tucked into her right boot. There was also a folding knife in the back pocket of her Levi’s. “It’s all right, Stan.” She slammed the door and spoke to him through the open window. “Why don’t you come pick me up tonight at the Belle Air motel about nine? You know where it is?”

  “Sure do.”

  “I’ll see you then.” Holding her hair out of her face, she rounded the truck before Stan could argue and climbed into the cab with Lucas. Stan pulled away with a spurt of gravel, leaving them sitting apart from the other trucks and trailers.

  “This’ll cost you.” Lucas adjusted the cigar with his tongue.

  Anna pulled two twenties from her shirt pocket and laid them on the bench seat between them. Already irritated by the grit in her teeth, she packed down the anger swelling in her chest.
“That’s all you’re gonna get.”

  He studied the bills for a moment. “That ain’t enough.”

  She added a third. “I’m just looking to buy cows.”

  “No you ain’t.”

  “What do you think I want, then?”

  “I don’t know what it is, but it ain’t cows.”

  She opened the door and scooped up the twenties. “Fine then.”

  “Hey, wait a minute.” Lucas reached across the seat and grabbed her wrist.

  “You better turn a-loose if you want to keep that hand.”

  Seeing the look in her eyes, Lucas let go as if he’d grabbed a hot branding iron. “Okay. Okay. Just stop.”

  “What?”

  “You really are in the market for cattle.”

  “I said I was.”

  “Why not get them in there, or at a sale barn somewhere close by your ranch?”

  “I have my reasons.”

  “You want Mexican cattle?”

  “No. I don’t want anything with diseases.”

  “That’s what it is.” Lucas took the cigar from the corner of his mouth and used it like a pointer. “You’re losing stock and you want to replace them without people around you knowing they’re dying. You better be careful. What have they got? Hoof and mouth?”

  She looked around as if to be sure no one was within hearing distance. “Brucellosis.”

  He drew a sharp breath.

  “Don’t worry. We bought some cows from Wyoming and they brought it into one pasture. We’ve cleaned ’em out, but Daddy don’t want folks to know what happened, or we’ll never sell another cow again.”

  “So that’s it. A little sleight of hand?”

  “That’s all.”

  “One hundred and I can give you an old boy who’s working cows up in Vernon right now. He knows folks on both sides of the river and they can set you up.”

  She only studied on it for a second. Vernon was less than two hundred miles west of Chisum, the perfect distance for rustlers in her part of the state to feel safe. “Deal.”

  Anna counted out the bills while Lucas wrote a phone number down on the inside of a pack of Gopher matches. He traded the matches for the money. She glanced down at the cover and read, “Steak Island, Austin’s ‘Most Exotic’ restaurant. Now I know where to find you.” She tucked the matchbook into her shirt pocket with the remaining cash.