Chapter 19
PARKER #3
On Saturday morning we packed up all the kids, left Marcia with Rebekah's mother and commenced our journey west on Interstate 20 to Cisco. We arrived there about noon and had lunch at the Dairy Queen. From Cisco getting to the well was not an easy task as the well was located far from any major highway. Bird had given me detailed instructions on how to get to it, but somehow we missed a number of his landmarks. By 3 p.m. we were traveling aimlessly down a dirt road in the middle of West Texas.
"I knew this wasn't a good idea," Rebekah said. "Now we're lost out in the middle of nowhere on a dirt road with no one around for miles."
"Don't panic, we'll find someone to give us directions. Someone's bound to come along soon," I said.
"Daddy, where's the oil well?" Reggie said.
"I don't know son, it's out here somewhere. We'll find it."
"I've got to go to the bathroom, Daddy," Peter said.
"Okay, you'll have to go behind a bush," I said.
"Why don't you take me to a bathroom, Daddy?" Peter asked.
"They don't have bathrooms out here, Peter."
I got out of the car and opened Peter's door. "Okay, come on," I said.
We walked off the road and behind some bushes. "Okay, Peter you can pee here."
"Right on the ground?" Peter said. "Yeah, right here."
"Oh cool!" Peter said and then unzipped his pants eagerly.
As we were walking back to the car I saw some dust on the horizon behind us. I put Peter back in the car and waited for the approaching vehicle.
"Honey, there's someone coming. Maybe they can help us."
"Thank God," Rebekah said.
After a few minutes a large tanker truck appeared spraying water on the thick layer of dust that had settled on the roadway. As it approached it slowed down and stopped. The driver got out and said, "You all having car trouble?"
"No, no, we're just lost. You don't know where Parker #3 is, do you?" I asked."
"Sure, I'm heading right by there, just follow me," he said.
"Oh great," I said.
We followed the water truck several miles down the road, then as we reached a fork in the road the truck stopped and the driver got out.
"Okay, just take that road about two miles and you'll be able to see the rig," the driver said.
"Thank you very much," I replied.
We followed the road as instructed and before long could hear the hum of an oil rig in the distance. After two miles, just as promised, we saw Parker #3 in the distance. As we drove toward the camp we saw a makeshift parking lot ahead so we drove in and parked Rebekah’s Montego station wagon. We all got out and walked toward the rig. There were lots of people mingling around drinking beer and conversing with one another. I didn't see anyone that we knew until I heard a familiar voice from behind me."
"Stan and Rebekah, there you are," Sheila said.
I turned around in response to the voice and there stood Sheila Logan just as gorgeous as ever with a bottle of beer in her hand.
"We were wondering if you got lost or maybe you couldn't get off work," Sheila said.
"Huh. We did actually," Rebekah said. "You'd think an Eagle Scout could read a map."
Sheila laughed. "Well, Bird's maps aren't that great. You’d think an Indian could give better directions. I've got lost a few times trying to follow them myself."
"I was on the right road, I just didn't go far enough," I explained.
"Well anyway, you're here now. I hope they gave you the whole weekend off because after the party tonight you're not going to feel like getting up early tomorrow," Sheila said.
"Unfortunately, I've got to work 7 to 11 tomorrow."
"P.M. I hope."
"Yes, if it was A.M. we wouldn't be here."
"Are these your boys?"
"Yes, this is Reggie, Peter and Mark. We left Marcia with Grandma," Rebekah noted.
"Great, well we're roasting a pig and it's almost done. I hope you're hungry."
"Oh yes, the kids are starved, we had an early lunch," Rebekah replied.
"Good, we've got plenty. Go grab a beer and enjoy yourself . . . I think they have about twenty or thirty feet to go until the well is supposed to come in."
"Okay, thanks Sheila," I said.
We walked over to the barbecue pit and watched the pig turn round and round over the hot charcoal. The kids were very quiet as they watched.
"Daddy, are we going to eat that pig?" Reggie asked warily.
"Of course," I replied.
"I'm not eating a pig," Reggie said.
"Why not, pork chops come from pigs."
"They do?"
"Sure, so does ham and bacon. You kids want a coke?"
"Uh huh," said Peter.
After we had been at Parker #3 for a couple of hours it began to get dark. Thirty minutes after sunset a large bank of lights were turned on over the rig so the drilling could continue 24 hours a day. Some roughnecks made a big pile of wood and ignited it with gasoline. As the barbecue progressed a small band situated near the rig began to play country music. We loaded up everybody's plates and sat down at one of many picnic tables that had been set up for the party. As we were eating I spotted Bird and Mr. Tomlinson approaching.
"Hey Stan. I'm glad you could make it," Mr. Tomlinson said. "Is this your family?"
"Yes, most of it. This is my wife, Rebekah, and my children, Reggie, Mark and Peter. We left the baby at home with grandma."
"Well I hope you're enjoying the food," Mr. Tomlinson said.
"We are, it's great," I replied.
"Mrs. Turner, I think you're going to be happy your husband invested in this well. It's looking mighty good," Mr. Tomlinson assured her.
"I hope so," Rebekah replied.
"Listen, Stan,” Tomlinson said, “Bird and I will be going back to Dallas tomorrow afternoon and we'd like to meet with you first thing Monday morning to finalize a couple of things."
"Sure, ten o'clock?"
"Fine, we'll see you then."
After Bird and Tomlinson left we decided to go sit around the campfire. The air was a little nippy so the warmth of the fire felt good. By now most of the other guests were mingling around, talking, drinking beer and wine and waiting. The intense sound of the rig was becoming annoying, so I left Rebekah a moment to go see how much farther they had to drill. Several roughnecks were working diligently locking pipe after pipe in place over the well and watching them disappear into the earth.
Someone yelled from the platform that surrounded the rig that they only had ten feet to go. Everyone jumped out of their seats and rushed over to the rig. I went over to Rebekah grabbed her by the hand and took her and the boys over to where the crowd had assembled. The excitement and anticipation of the gathering was intense. The boys stuck their fingers in their ears to lessen the discomfort from the whining of the generators and the pounding of the rig in operation. The man on the rig came out of his little control room and yelled "Five feet!"
Everyone watched the grease laden roughnecks lift the last pipe, set it over the well and lock it into place. The crowd came alive as the pipe sank slowly beneath the earth. Suddenly the ground began to rumble and a gushing sound could be heard. I squeezed Rebekah and pulled the kids around us. Then from out of the earth came a stream of oil so strong it was sent fifty feet into the air. The crowd erupted into pandemonium and everyone began to dance and scream with delight until the oil began drenching us. We ran from the well in hysterical delight as oil saturated our hair and ran down our faces. Then Peter began to cry, "Mom, I've got oil in my eyes! It's burning."
I stopped momentarily and wiped the oil from Peter's face and then picked him up and held him. "Can you believe this Rebekah; we're going to be rich!"
"No, I can't believe it. Are you sure this is really happening?"
"Well, you've got oil all over you to prove it," I replied.
Ever
yone watched the roughnecks as they worked to cap the well. Within thirty minutes the oil had stopped and then the celebrating really began. Bird had several coolers brought out containing champagne. Now that the rig had shut down you could actually hear the sound of the band playing. People began to dance and have a good time. Rebekah seemed stunned by the events of the evening and was unusually quiet.
"Come on Honey, let's go get some champagne," I said.
"Okay," Rebekah replied.
We walked over to where they were pouring the champagne, grabbed a couple of glasses and had them filled up.
"Can I have some Daddy?" Reggie said.
"No, this isn't for kids," I replied. "I'll get you another coke."
The roughnecks began circulating amongst the crowd refilling their glasses just as soon as they became empty. Rebekah sipped her champagne very slowly as she didn't really like its taste that much. I loved champagne so consequently my glass was refilled many times. After a while I began to get rather light headed and the bonfire began to become a blur. Having drunk so much I felt the urge to go to the bathroom so I excused myself and started to search for the Port O' Let. Upon successfully locating it and relieving myself I was returning to the crowd when I ran into Bird.
"Stan, you having a good time?" Bird asked.
"Yeah, this is great. I'll never forget this night," I replied.
"I guarantee you won't, Bird said. "Hey, Sheila was looking for you. She's over by the guard shack."
"Oh, okay. Thanks."
I walked over behind the rig to the guard shack and sure enough Sheila was there.
"Hi Stan. Isn't this wonderful. I'm so excited," Sheila said.
"Oh, I know it. I still can't believe it," I replied. "I've always been poor. It's going to be so different with a few bucks in the bank."
"I must say you surprised me a little tonight Stan, but I'm glad it turned out this way."
"Huh?"
"Come over here I want to give you something," Sheila said with a sly smile.
I stumbled a little going over to her and she grabbed my arm. When I’d righted myself she took my hand and pulled me toward the door to the guard shack. I resisted a little but followed her, curious as to what it was she wanted to give me. She opened the door and went inside. I broke away from her grip.
"Okay. So, . . . where is it?".
"Be patient, it's a surprise. Come on in."
I lingered at the door suspiciously. "Why?” I laughed. “Can’t you give it to me out here?"
"Just come on in," Sheila said as she grabbed my hand again, yanked me in and pushed the door closed.
Once inside I looked around the small room warily. It was modestly furnished with a bed, a small table and chairs and a kerosene lamp. Sheila put her arms around me and said, "I know you've wanted this. I could tell by looking in your eyes." Then she pressed her lips against mine and began to caress my tongue with hers. As my mental capacity had been greatly impaired by the effects of the champagne, my animal instincts immediately took over and I began to reciprocate with great fervor. Sheila pulled off her blouse exposing her exquisite breasts. I ripped off my shirt in eager anticipation of feeling her naked body next to mine. Our passion became so intense I hit something with my foot and heard it crash to the ground.
Suddenly I felt intense heat and the room lit up like someone had turned on flood lamps. I spun around and realized I’d knocked over a kerosene lamp. The floor was already ablaze. I quickly grabbed a blanket and managed to put out the fire before there was any serious damage.
Sheila was greatly amused by the fire and by this time had reclined herself on the bunk beckoning me to ravish her. The sudden flash of fire, however, had awakened my mental capacities and I realized it was time to retreat. I put on my shirt and opened the door to leave. Much to my shock Bird and Rebekah were standing in front of the doorway. Rebekah peered in the shack and saw Sheila naked from the waste up. She looked at me, then turned and stomped off.
"Oh shit," I said as I looked at Bird. "Nothing happened we've just had too much to drink."
I ran after Rebekah who, by this time, had gathered up the kids and was heading for the car.
"Rebekah, stop. I don't know what happened. I'm wasted. I'm sorry."
"I'm going to kill her! She'll curse the day she ever met you," Rebekah said.
As we walked back to the car I tried to explain to her what had happened but she ignored me. We got in the car and drove off. Rebekah wouldn't talk to me at all during the five-hour trip home. When we walked in the door it was after 2 a.m., so we carried the kids into the house and put them to bed. Rebekah continued to ignore me, put on her nightgown and went to bed.
Feeling very guilty and rather sick over what had happened, I tried again to get Rebekah to talk to me. Finally, she responded.
"That little bitch won't be satisfied until she steals you away from me. I could see it in her eyes the first time I met her. I don't want you to ever lay your eyes on her again. And if I ever see her again I'll kill her!" Rebekah promised.
"Don't worry, I am going to stay clear of that woman. You're right, she's nothing but trouble. I am really sorry, Honey, I just drank too much and lost control of my senses for a minute."
"I just wonder what would have happened had you not set the place on fire," Rebekah said. "How did you manage that anyway?"
"I accidentally knocked over the kerosene lamp, I guess."
"I haven't seen that kind of passion around our bedroom lately."
She was right. Ever since I’d started law practice sex had gone down a few notches in priority. The long hours, hard work, and fear of failure left me exhausted at night and interested in just one thing—sleep.”
"I'm sorry, Honey."
On Sunday Rebekah didn't mention the incident with Sheila. I was greatly relieved that I had dodged that bullet. Rebekah did bring up Parker #3. "Are we really going to get $90,000 per year from that well?"
"Well, it could be more or less just depending on what the production from the well finally turns out to be."
"That will be so wonderful if we finally get some steady money that we can count on. You need a new car and the kids need lots of clothes."
"Yeah, I could rent a real law office and hire a secretary. We could even take a Hawaiian cruise."
"That would be nice? I just won't believe it though until I see it," Rebekah said dejectedly.
"You saw the oil shooting up into the sky."
"I know but it just seems like a dream."
"You've got an oil stained dress to prove it was real."
"True, but still . . . until I see a big check, I won't believe it."
"Whatever. I think it will take two or three months however, before we see any actual money."
Brash Endeavor, A Stan Turner Mystery Vol 3 Page 21
