Joseph's Kidnapping

by Randy Rawls

  A herd of Longhorns chose to cross the road, so I waited. I admired their distinctive horns. Some ran six to seven feet tip to tip as they curved from the top of the head. And the cattle are big. I’ve seen Longhorns that weigh a ton. That’s a lot of beef, too much for me to challenge with my convertible. They took their sweet time, giving me an opportunity to study them. I could see the brand, the outline of a football surrounding the letters CTC.

  About a half-mile in, I topped a ridge and a house loomed in front of me. Did I say house? That shows my pedestrian upbringing. The place would have made Jake envious. It was three stories high with a huge wraparound front porch and three chimneys protruding from the roof. I wondered if this was where Jake had gotten the triple chimney idea for his house outside Cisco—the one that burned. Or, maybe Chip copied Jake’s plans. Whichever, it would be an interesting conversation starter if I needed one.

  I pulled into a circular driveway. As the car rolled to a stop, a man stepped around and opened my door. “Mr. Edwards, I trust. Mr. Jamison is waiting for you in the Texas Room. He’s very anxious.”

  I grew up where we have many objects prefaced with Texas, but I had no clue what he meant by Texas Room, except it must be big. I wanted to ask him, but nothing came out except, “Thank you.” Otherwise, I might have laughed. His attire reminded me of an old cowboy movie. He dressed like one of the Yankees that showed up at the hero’s dude ranch anxious to play at being a cowboy. I won’t try to describe it. Let your imagination roam.

  As he drove off in my car—to park it I hoped—I climbed the steps to the wide, front porch. I wondered about him. He had the lined face of a fifty-five to sixty-year-old man, but carried himself in a much younger manner. His upright stature showed no middle age bulge. As with most male Texans and many females, he towered over me. The western hat he wore was clean and looked like someone brushed it frequently. I couldn’t decide if he was a drugstore-cowboy, or the real thing in costume.

  The massive teak front doors swung open before I got close enough to use the knocker, stainless steel, the outline of a football with CTC inside. Chip did not have an inferiority complex.

  A cowgirl, dressed in the same outfit as the guy who met my car, stood in the open doorway. “This way, Mr. Edwards, to the Texas Room.”

  I stood for an instant, wondering where Chip had found this pair. She stood about five feet tall and still had her figure although she carried a few extra pounds. Don’t expect me to guess her weight. I’ve been slapped over that issue. Her gray hair had flashes of its original dark color. She looked maternal, and I instinctively liked her. Before I could ask what’s a Texas Room, she walked away.

  While I postulated, she took off down a hallway. I had little choice but to follow. She led me through the house, and what a place. Suffice it to say, my middle class upbringing in Cisco hadn’t prepared me for what I saw. I will tell you the football with CTC brand appeared everywhere.

  After we walked about the width of a football field, she led me out of the house into a sunroom. Well, some might call it a sunroom, but that wouldn’t be fair. It was about fifteen yards deep and thirty yards long, enclosed in glass, except where it shared a wall with the house. I discovered later the glass darkened depending on the intensity of the light, kind of like expensive eye glasses.

  “Mr. Jamison, Mr. Edwards has arrived,” my escort said.

  A huge man rose from a chair with his finger in the pages of a book. I looked into his face and saw familiar features, however memory said they’d been leaner when I last saw them.

  THREE

  “Arty,” the man said. “I’m so glad you’re here. Everything will be all right.”

  “Chip? You are Chip Jamison, aren’t you?”

  “Of course I am. Don’t you recognize me? Hell, I’d know you anywhere. You haven’t changed a bit.”

  That was a pile of crap. I was many hairs lighter and fifteen pounds heavier than our college days.

  “Yeah, you look the same, too,” I lied.

  “Okay Arty, what do we do first?”

  “First, don’t call me Arty. Then, I want to know how the hell everybody knows who I am.”

  “Yeah, I guess that would cause a private eye to wonder. But the answer is simple—your car.”

  “What does my car have to do with anything?”

  “Jake told me about the car he gave you for solving the Cisco case, a red Chrysler convertible. I told Frank and Annie to watch for one.”

  “Wonderful,” I muttered. It was tempting to tell him I make the payments even if Jake did select it and make a hefty down payment after the destruction of my old one. Instead, I said, “I’m impressed.”

  “Hey, it worked. Where do we start?”

  “I need the full story. Have you heard anything else from the kidnappers?”

  “Not a word. It’s been quiet since the call this morning. We need to hurry, though. I need Joseph back. The herd misses him.”

  “Let’s sit down, and you tell me about the disappearance.”

  “Okay, but the sun has crossed over that pin oak so we can have a beer. Jake says you drink Killian’s Red.” He pulled a cord and the door opened.

  “Yeah,” I replied, switching my view to the lady who’d escorted me. She stood in the doorway.

  “Bring Arty a Killian’s and me a Bud longneck,” Chip said. “Make sure they’re crispy cold.”

  What did you expect me to do—laugh at the drugstore cowgirl’s attire and turn down a Killian’s? Not a chance. I said nothing until she left the room.

  “Chip, fill me in. All I know is Joseph disappeared, and you received a ransom call. Start talking. I’ll interrupt when I need to—and don’t call me Arty.”

  “Okay, Ar, uh, Ace. Here’s what I know.”

  At that instant, our cowgirl returned. She handed me a Killian’s, and I took a long pull on it. Ice crystals slid into my mouth. I’d have proposed to her right then except for two things. She was older than me, which I could have lived with, but, more important, Chip began the story of Joseph’s kidnapping.

  “Matt, he’s my foreman, alerted me. He went to the north pasture to check the herd yesterday morning. We had Joseph working some new buys, some Charolais. Matt called and said he couldn’t find him. At first, I wasn’t worried. Joseph has a mind of his own and if the herd behaves, he might disappear into the bush.”

  Chip took another sip of his beer. “Matt rang back about a half-hour later and said the herd was restless and Joseph was still nowhere to be found. Now, that bothered—”

  “Let me interrupt,” I said. “You said Joseph was with the herd. Was he there all night?”

  “Of course,” Chip replied. “He’s always where we assign him. I told you he’s the best.”

  “Okay. Back to your story.”

  “Well, after Matt’s second call, I pulled in some of the boys and we drove out to the north pasture. Matt was there with Hank, another of my hands, and they repeated the story. They’d showed up about daylight and Joseph wasn’t there. The clock pushed seven by then, so we had reason to be worried.”

  “Maybe he went into Canton for breakfast or something.”

  Chip gave me a funny look. “I don’t think so. That don’t make no sense at all. Besides, Joseph would never leave the herd for long. I mean, like I said, he might slip into the bush for a bit, but he’d stay close enough to gallop in if there was an emergency.”

  Some strange thoughts rattled around in my head. Like maybe Joseph wasn’t what I expected. I pushed them away and said, “Tell me the rest of it. I’ll try to keep my mouth shut until you finish.”

  “Not much more to tell. We looked all over the north pasture—no Joseph. That’s one of my smaller pastures, about twenty acres so it didn’t take too long. We followed the fence line and none was down. All the gates were closed. Joseph wasn’t there and couldn’t have gotten out by himself. That left two possibilities—someone let him out, or someone took him out.”

  Chip stared into the
distance a moment. I thought I saw moisture well up in his eyes.

  “I knew he wouldn’t leave on his own,” he continued. “He’s too loyal to the herd.”

  My right brain screamed at me, You dummy. He’s talking about an animal. You’ve been hired to find a damn animal. Left brain told it to quiet down.

  I said, “Okay, what did you do after you were sure he was gone?”

  “We checked everywhere. I left the crew to search, and take care of the cattle, and I came back here. I remembered Jake told me what a great help you’d been so I dug out his number and called. After he caught me up on all his women, I told him about Joseph’s disappearance. He said I should hire you.”

  “I’ll have to remember to thank him,” I said, eyeing my empty beer bottle. If right brain was right, I might need several more Killian’s.

  “I wanted to call you right away, but Jake suggested I wait. He said you prefer to book your cases at three in the morning.” Chip chuckled. “I guess he got away with pulling my leg.”

  Pulling his leg? As big as Chip was, it looked like someone had pulled his whole body.

  “So I waited and called you like Jake said.” He leaned back, his story apparently finished.

  “Yeah, I’ll make sure Jake knows you followed his instructions.” That’s what I said, but my thoughts ran in a different direction about Jake. I’m gonna catch that son of a bitch in flagrante delicto with his current young lady and I’m gonna enjoy slapping him on his bare ass—with a baseball bat. With effort, I shoved my thoughts of revenge aside, and said, “Skip to the call this morning. Slow down and give me the exact words, if you can.”

  “It was about nine-fifteen. I was here in the Texas Room having coffee and a Danish. It’s my favorite place, you know. Annie, my housekeeper, took the call and came to get me.

  “I picked up the phone and identified myself. I heard, ‘Shut up and listen. We got Joseph. Ten thousand in used bills, nothing bigger than a ten or he gets hurt, maybe dead. No cops. I’ll call again.’ That’s it. He hung up. Look, I wrote it down.”

  He handed me a memo pad and written on the top sheet were the exact words he’d used. I congratulated him on his thoroughness as I pulled out my small notebook. “Describe Joseph.”

  “Hmmm,” Chip said. “He’s got the most soulful brown eyes and they’re big, bigger than most. His coat is gray-brown. He stands about three and a half feet tall. His disposition is great, and he has a cowlick in the middle of his forehead where the hair stands straight out.”

  I quit taking notes. I was too busy staring, and I bet my mouth hung open. Right brain was right. I’d been suckered. It was a missing animal case.

  Without taking my eyes off Chip, I reached for my beer—still empty. “Stop where you are.” I took a deep breath. “What kind of animal are you talking about?”

  “A burro.” Chip answered. “He watches my herds. I thought you knew.”

  “Burro,” I said, or maybe screamed. “You dragged me out here for a damned jackass? You gotta be out of your—”

  The look on Chip’s face stopped me. I took a moment to gather my wits, which were strewn all over his Texas Room. After reflecting on my financial condition, I asked, “Did I understand right? Joseph is a donkey?”

  “He prefers burro. You didn’t think it was a cowboy, did you? Hell, I’d have called the cops right away if one my hands disappeared.”

  I hesitated, wondering if that showed more or less concern for his employees. Before I could formulate my next words, the phone rang.

  FOUR

  Chip and I stared at the instrument. The telephone rang again, or rather, sounded its irritating buzz.

  Chip didn’t move so I said, “Aren’t you going to answer?”

  “No, Annie gets mad if I pick up. She says that’s her job.”

  I wanted to ask who employed whom but let it ride. After the third buzz, the phone stood mute. We sat without uttering a word, staring. Somehow I think we both knew the call pertained to Joseph. Chalk it up to ESP.

  Click, click, click. There was no mistaking the sound of Annie’s boots as she walked down the terra-cotta-tiled hallway. The door opened. “Mr. Jamison, Sheriff Galoway’s on the phone. I told him you were in conference, but he insisted.”

  “It’s okay, Annie. First, bring us another phone. I want Mr. Edwards to hear.”

  A few minutes later, both of us had telephones, and Chip introduced Sheriff Galoway. After the usual amenities, Galoway said, “Chip, ‘fraid I got some good news and some bad news. Which do you want first?”

  “With the way the last couple of days have gone, give me the good.”

  “Okay. We found Joseph. Did you know he was roaming around?” Without giving Chip a chance to reply, he continued, “He was in a pasture down from you on 1653. Dub spotted him. He was on patrol and saw Joseph standing there, patient as could be with a rope around his neck. Dub recognized him ‘cause of that crazy brand of yours.”

  “That’s great, Bob, great,” Chip said. “I’ve been worried sick about him. I’ll come right away to fetch him. What’s the bad news?”

  “Before I get to that, you need to tell me why Joseph wasn’t in one of your pastures.”

  Chip looked at me, a question mark on his face. I hesitated, then nodded, and Chip told the sheriff about Joseph’s disappearance. He didn’t mention the ransom call.

  Bob listened, then said, “That might explain it.”

  “Might explain what?” Chip asked.

  When the sheriff spoke again, I knew it was bad. His tone was low and serious. “We have to hold onto Joseph for a while. You see, that rope I mentioned was in the hands of a dead man—maybe the bastard that took Joseph. But from the way things looked, Joseph evened the score. He’s always been quick with his hooves. I’ve seen critters he took out, and this body looked the same way—kicked to death.”

  “That’s impossible, Bob. You know Joseph. He wouldn’t hurt a human. A coyote, wolf, or another varmint, yeah, but not a man.” A pleading tone filled Chip’s voice.

  I interrupted. “Sheriff, you said the dead man held a rope. What do you mean?”

  “It was looped around his wrist, maybe like he had Joseph on a lead. Joseph must have pulled him through a water hole ’cause he was caked with mud and fresh dirt. I left my deputies to backtrack and came in to call Chip. I know how he feels about his burro.”

  “Where is he?” Chip interrupted. “When can I pick him up?”

  “Slow down,” Sheriff Galoway said. “The vet’s coming to look him over. I’ll let you know.”

  “Who was the—” I said as the phone clicked in my ear. The sheriff had disconnected. Seemed like no one cared about the dead man except me.

  Chip sat for a moment, looking deep in thought. After a long sad sigh, he said, “I’m going to have something stronger than beer. Care to join me?”

  “Nope, I best be heading to Dallas.” I stood. “I’ve still got a backlog to cut into. Since I haven’t done anything except drive out here, I’ll bill you for one day plus expenses.” It hurt to say that, but I couldn’t justify staying. In spite of what Striker might think, I do have some scruples. After all, Joseph was okay. I turned to leave.

  Chip bounced up. “What? You can’t leave. I need you more than ever. We have to prove Joseph innocent.”

  I was in mid-step, but his words stopped me cold. “We what? Wait a minute. I’d have never come in the first place if I knew Joseph was a burro.” I had to let him know I had standards—low as they may be. “I’m sure not going to spin my wheels to prove an animal didn’t kill a man.”

  You may believe a PI who specializes in chasing straying spouses with sex on their minds has no principles. Well I do. At least, I keep telling myself I do.

  I turned again toward the door. It opened. This is one of those times when saying a door opened is like saying professional football is just a game. I need a much stronger way to say it. Like the door swung open on a gust of ambrosia, or the door inched its way open
on well-oiled hinges, fanning the sweet smell of beauty, or something else beyond my poetic powers.

  A woman stepped into the room, dressed in short shorts and a halter top. The first thing I noticed was she needed a bigger halter. The one she wore left more hanging out than covered. You might say that the top without undue strain could handle a C, but had little control over the D’s pointed at me. The second was that I sure liked the first. When she spoke, I forgot the glories of her anatomy. She had one of those voices that commands a man’s attention, deep and husky. What I’ve heard called a bedroom voice.

  “Annie said Chip was on the phone with the sheriff,” she said. “I thought you weren’t going to call him, that you had a supercop from Dallas coming out.”

  Chip turned red and grinned as he nodded toward me. “Wanda, I’d like you to meet Ace Edwards, my savior from Dallas.”

  She gave me the once over. If she was embarrassed at her reference to me, it didn’t show. By the time she finished scrutinizing me, I felt she knew all my secrets, including the small scar on my right side I’d gotten playing soccer in college. I returned her gaze, or attempted to before looking away. I wondered if she had scars in secret places, and wished I could investigate.

  “It’s so nice to meet you, Mr. Edwards.” She stuck out her hand and when I took it, it was soft and cool and, oh so delicate. “Have you found Joseph yet? Are you psychic?” The way her lips turned up in a tiny smile said she was a game player.

  If we had been sitting on bar stools in a pick-up place, I’d have answered in kind, but, instead, I played it straight. “I arrived a short while ago. Since then, Joseph has been found. My job is complete.”

  Chip spoke up. “Wanda, I explained to Ace that I need his help.” He winked at her. “Will you entertain him for a few minutes? I was about to get us a drink. Is Grouse and water okay, Ace? I know it’s Wanda’s favorite.” He headed toward the door, then stopped. “You two might be more comfortable if you sit down rather than stand there attached at the palms.”