Deputy
Sheriff Leo Briggs has just arrived at Burl Branchwater’s barn to investigate
the mysterious appearance of the stolen gunmetal stud.
Bobby Ray
told the story to the deputy and pointed to the horse. Deputy Briggs examined
all the horses, gathering his thoughts, before risking being kicked by slapping
the sore gunmetal gelding on the hip.
“Well, guess you just gonna have to sue the feller what brought him out
here.”
Burl, a
county commissioner not unfamiliar with legal proceedings, raised from his
shoeing. “Sue? What the hell you talkin’ about? That’s a damn ten thousand dollar stud that
was stolen and cut. Any fool knows
that’s criminal, not civil.”
The law
officer backed up a few steps as Burl brandished his rasp. “We called you out here to do something about
a theft. All you got to say is get us a
lawyer and sue? You get in your damn
county car and get on back to the courthouse.
Finish your damn checker game.”
Bobby Ray
watched Deputy Briggs drive away. “What
we gonna do now?”
“Better call
Cole. Maybe he can get somebody over in
Hunt County to come look. Lillie thinks this Falwell feller lives over there, anyway. And the stud was probably in Hunt County when he was stolen.”
Cole
Cunningham, part owner of the gray used-to-be stud, was there in ten minutes,
eyes red with fury as he examined his stolen horse. “I called the Hunt County Sheriff.”
The sheriff
dispatched a deputy who brought along Bill Root, investigator for the District
Attorney’s office and brother-in-law to Burl’s son, Jack. Bill Root had called Jack to report that he
was headed for his daddy’s place. Curious,
Jack arrived at about the same time Root and the Hunt County deputy drove up.
The
investigator heard the story, made notes, then turned to Cole and Bobby
Ray. “If Burl will witness that this
horse is yours and was stolen, then y’all have the right to take it back right
now.”
Jack
Branchwater asked the question everybody was thinking. “What about the sumbitch that stole him?”
Investigator
Root had his pencil and notebook ready as he spoke to Burl. “Did you get his
name?”
Burl pointed
in the general direction from which the thief had come. “Told me his name was
Falwell. Said everybody called him
Frankie T. Don’t know as I would believe
anything the man said, though.”
Investigator
Bill Root turned pale.
Jack spoke
to his brother-in-law. “That the same
Frankie T. that’s your team roping partner at church ropings?”
Root
whispered his reply. “Couldn’t be.”
“What does
he team rope on?”
Investigator
Root coughed up the words. “Lately, it’s
been a gunmetal stud.”
“You mean to
say you, a lawman yourself, been team-roping with a thief while he’s riding a
stolen horse? That don’t even take into account that you’re on a church team.”
“Couldn’t be
the same man. Frankie T.’s had some problems in the past, but he’s born again.”
Burl’s
disgust boiled over. “Well, is that the
horse the man rides or not?”
The
sheriff’s deputy walked over and put a hand on the gunmetal’s hip as if Bill
Root still might not be able to tell which horse they were talking about. The
horse flicked an ear in irritation. Chagrined, Bill nodded. “That’s him.”
Cole
Cunningham, hands on hips, could not believe his ears. “There’s pictures of
that damn stud all over the Sheriff’s office, the courthouse, every sale barn
and vet’s office within a hundred miles of here. Me and Bobby Ray offered a
five hundred dollar reward. Ever look at one of them pictures? There’s one
pinned to a board not ten feet from your office.”
Bill Root
was appropriately red-faced. “I never made the connection. Who would think a
man would ride a stolen horse in church team ropings? Hell, he even told me he was gonna have the
stud cut so he would be safer around the kids.”
Bobby Ray’s
face fell as he thought of five thousand dollar jewels being hauled off in a
bucket. “Who cut him?”
“Vet over at
Sulphur Springs. Think his name is West.”
Cole’s eyes
inflamed. “West? Hell, that’s my vet. There’s
pictures of this stud all over his office, too. He gave the horse all his shots. Been seeing him since he was
born. How could he not recognize a horse he’s castrating?”
Stunned now,
Bill Root removed his cell phone from its belt holster. He hit one button. “Frankie T.?”
Jack looked
at his father and laughed out loud. “Damn, Daddy. My brother-in-law, an officer
of the court, has a horse thief on speed-dial.”
Next week: Frankie T. comes back for his horses.
Awesome!, June 25,
2012
By
This review is from: Go Down Looking (Perfect Paperback)
From the
first page to the last this book takes you on an emotional ride. I have enjoyed
all the books Jim Ainsworth has written about the Rivers family. They are a
must read! Can't wait for his next book.
1 comment:
Closest Shave I Ever Got
Brother Ainsworth, out in our part of the Panhandle, there was plenty of vets who would work on cats and dogs, but "big-animal" vets were mighty thin on the ground. Most of them spent the biggest part of their time treating cows for the big dairies. As a result, good ol' Doc got roped into cuttin' stud horses. The vets provided the medicine which I gave IV until the stud rolled over and went to snorin'.
This is where my friend, "Big Iron," set to work with a cotton rope. He could tie 'em up so I could do my work without gettin' stomped. He had just finished puttin'his magic knot on a buckskin stud colt. I washed and prepped the area and proceeded to cuttin' with a #10 scalpel. I had cut the first nut off when I went to workin' on the second. The horse groaned and moved a little. "Don't you worry, Doc. This ol' hoss ain't goin' nowhere." I shifted my Levi Garret and got the second nut. I was workin' up the cord to find the "squealler"; just as I clamped and cut the cord, I felt the sudden urge to jump back. Ol' Buck had slipped a back foot plumb outta the magic rope and was huntin' my face! He had come so close to gettin' it, it left dirt in my whiskers. ""Thought you said he wasn't goin' nowhere?" "He didn't! He's still here." Now that's the truth, or pretty close to it.
Doc
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