Beneath the Tombstone (The Tombstone Series) (29 page)

“For
who?” Susan asked skeptically.

“One’s
for her. They haven’t figured out who
tha
’ other
one’s for.” He took another drink, eyes still fastened on the flames. He let
out a rough blast of air. “She also bought two plane tickets to Mexico… one
way.”

Susan’s
eyes grew wide. “Jason,” she spoke sharply, “are you suggesting that my sister
set up her own kidnapping and had you beaten just so she could run off to
Mexico… and, and why the Tombstone, huh?”

“I
have a five-hundred-thousand dollar life insurance policy and
Misty’ll
get it all.” Susan just stared at him in
disbelief. “What am I supposed to believe?” he asked quietly. “She got two
passports and two plane tickets.”

“Why
would she do that?” Susan demanded.

“Because
this is all my fault.” Jason began shaking. His face flushed a deep red.

“Jason,”
Susan spoke sympathetically, “we both know you shouldn’t have gone for that
late night stroll, but that doesn’t make this your fault.”

No
reason to hide it anymore. “That’s not what we were doing out there.” He was
silent for a few seconds. Susan just looked at him with a questioning gaze. “I
knew our marriage was falling apart. I was desperate to get her attention. The
purse thing – it was rigged. I got someone to steal it, so I could get it back
and she’d be thankful, you know, um, and she was. Then after that night you
invited us to church, well, things got bad again.”

Susan
was staring at him in disbelief, but he went on. “So I staged a fake attempted
kidnapping on her… but somehow things went terribly real. I don’t know what
happened – what went wrong. But what if she had found out beforehand?” he asked
dryly then took a drink. “She might just be mad enough to do this.”

Susan
sat down beside him and they both stared into the fire. “Honestly Jason,” she
spoke after a bit, “I never completely bought your waltz in the park story.
Thank you for telling me the truth.”

Jason
pulled his gaze away from the fire for the first time and looked at her. “It’s
as simple as that? No
hittin
’,
yellin
’,
or
screamin
’?” Susan just shook her head, lost in
some thought, transfixed by the dancing flames. Jason turned away from her,
back to staring at the fire. “
What’da
you think?
Think that’d make her mad enough to do it?”

Susan
sat in thought for a moment. “I don’t know,” she finally sighed. After a
moment, she turned to him. “Why’d you take off your wedding ring?” she asked.

“I
don’t deserve it,” he whispered harshly. A tear ran down his cheek. “I don’t
deserve her.” Hands shaking, he brought the bottle up to his lips and took a
deep pull from it. “Whoever she’s found, she’ll be better off,” he added,
bringing the bottle back down, corking it loosely.

“Found?”
Susan asked.

Jason
turned to her. “Yeah, two plane tickets, two passports, none of which I knew
anything about.”

“Jason,
that’s…”

“There
was over twenty-thousand dollars in that account,” he interrupted in a slurred
voice. “Why would she be keeping that money separate if she wasn’t planning a
separate life… and where’d it come from?” he demanded.

“We
each inherited fifteen-thousand dollars from Grandma when she passed away last
year,” Susan explained gently. “I used mine as a down payment when I purchased
her old house from the estate. I never knew what Misty did with hers.” She
paused. “And in regards to your first question,” she added, “maybe she kept
that money separate because she was afraid you’d spend it.”

Ouch.
But she had a point. “Still doesn’t explain the plane tickets and passports.”

Susan
sighed and shook her head staring blankly into the fire through the glass
front. Jason looked over at her. She looked sad. He didn’t want her to be sad.
“Say Susan,” he spoke, sounding every bit as plastered as he was, “don’t be
sad. I’m sad. You don’t need to be sad, too. Here – have a drink,” he said,
offering her the bottle.

Susan
took the bottle and gave it a study. Then she rose to her knees, scooted over
to the stove, opened the door and tossed the bottle into the flames. It landed
cork-end down, wedged between two burning logs, the bottom of the bottle pointed
up at the chimney.

Jason’s
eyes grew wide. Susan shut the door back and turned around to Jason. “Thanks,
but I think I’ll pass,” she said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

- - - - - -

Tyler
had mulled it over and over in his head, and now he was headed up the hill to
Jason’s shack. He thought he had it figured out. Jason had been feeling down.
When he got up from the table, he went into the bathroom then out the back
door. Why go out the back door? – No reason… unless he had the whiskey. The
stuff was one-hundred-one proof – over fifty percent alcohol. It wouldn’t take
much to get him completely smashed. Plus the bottle had been almost full which
leaves a lot of room for stupid.

What
to be done as punishment? – That was the main question. Couldn’t just let this…
KABOOM!
And explosion shattered his thoughts, and a split-second later,
a fiery object shot out of the chimney of Jason’s shack up into the night sky.
Tyler came to an abrupt halt. The flame went out. A few seconds later, he heard
something plop into the grass nearby. Walking over to the spot, he knelt down
and retrieved the smoking bottle. All of the paper had been burnt off of it
but, yep, that was his whiskey bottle.

- - - - - -

“You’re
not thinking about, um, you know, quitting are you?” Susan asked Jason gently,
not the least bit phased by the violent explosion she’d just created.

“Quitting?”
Jason asked. “What do you mean by quitting?”

“Um,”
Susan spoke uneasily, “you know, like ending it all or, or giving up on life.”

“No,”
Jason scoffed. “The
Tombstone’ll
take care of that.
Misty’ll
get the half-million. She can use it to start her
new life. I owe her that, at least.”

“If
it is her,” Susan spoke cautiously, like she didn’t believe it, “what if she’s
doing this just to see if you’re willing to be a real hero to her?”

Jason
looked up. He hadn’t thought of that. He felt a little excited. He leaned
towards Susan, getting his face within an inch or so of hers. “Yeah!” he
exclaimed. “Maybe if I climb it, she’ll see I really have changed! The tickets
are for the day after my climb – Maybe if I climb, she won’t go!”

Susan
leaned away and wrinkled her face up in disgust. “Oh Jason!” she exclaimed.
“Your breath is awful!”

Jason
leaned back against the bedroll and shook his head. “Want to know what’s
ironic? Few weeks ago, I snubbed my nose at a drunk man. Now I am one.” He
turned and looked at her. “Oh yeah, you remember; you were there.”

“Yes
Jason, I remember,” she replied. “But don’t be too hard on yourself; judgment
is a thing we all cast too quickly, from time to time.”

“Did
you know he was a business owner and, and his wife was beautiful, and they were
in love, and she was killed in a car wreck?”

“No,”
Susan replied, ignoring the fact that he was rambling. “I hadn’t heard that.”

“So
sad,” Jason spoke, shaking his head.

Just
then the door opened abruptly, and Tyler stepped in. “Jason,” he spoke,
sounding a bit perplexed as he held up the charred whiskey bottle. “What
happened to the whiskey?”

“Oh,
hi Tyler,” Jason said, giving a limp-armed wave. “Half down the hatch, half up
the stack.”

“Why
the half up the stack?” Tyler asked, no less confused than before. Jason didn’t
answer. He just turned to Susan. He had been wondering that very thing himself.

She
just shrugged and said, “I don’t know. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Suddenly,
Tyler smiled. “
Bet’cha
couldn’t do that again. Not in
a thousand years. It was worth the wasted whiskey just to see that bottle shoot
out
tha
’ chimney like a bat out of…” he caught
himself, “um, well, you know… hades.” He furrowed his brow. Didn’t have near
the same effect. He turned back, shrugging it off. “Well, anyways,” he started
to go on but stopped when he took a closer look at Jason. “Man, you don’t look
so good.”

In
all honesty, Jason didn’t feel so good either. The room seemed to be running
laps around his head.

Tyler
studied him. “That FBI agent must’ve had some bad news.”

Jason
didn’t answer. Instead, he staggered to his feet and rushed towards the door.
Wide eyed, Tyler jumped out of the way, not out of fear of Jason, but because
he knew what was coming and didn’t want to be a part of it. Jason slammed his
shoulder into the doorjamb, but the pain barely registered.

Making
it to the edge of the porch, he fell to his knees and doubled over. Arching his
back like an angry cat, the nights drinking binge came back to haunt him.
Finally, he sat up and used one of his sleeve covered, shaky arms to wipe his
mouth. Falling back against the outside wall of the cabin, he just sat there
and trembled.

A
moment later, he felt a strong hand on his arm. “Come on, Tiger,” Tyler spoke,
a touch of caring in his voice. After being hauled to his feet, Jason stared at
Tyler until he felt someone else grab his other arm. He turned to Susan and
smiled his gratitude; honestly, it was more of a huge drunken grin, but he was
sure she got the message, all the same.

He
turned back to Tyler and gave him the same sincere smile. Such good friends. A
man couldn’t ask for better friends. Tyler was like John Wayne. Big cowboy.
Oops,
was that out loud?
And Susan… she was nice too. Real nice. You know, they
were so nice that nice wasn’t even the best word for it. What did nice really
mean, anyways? Different things. Why invent words that mean different things?
Why not come up with a whole brand new word?

“Why
does nice mean different things?” he asked, posing his dilemma to Tyler. “Like
– hey babe,” he wiggled an eyebrow, “you look nice.” Tyler looked more worried
than nice. “Or, you know, like one girl friend to another… Hey,” he raised the
pitch of his voice, turning to Susan, “how was the first date? Oh, he was too
nice,” he sang. “The first one, he’s saying she’s ah
lookin
’
hot, but they can’t both mean the same things because there’s no such thing as
lookin
’ too hot… am I right?” he asked as he bobbed his
head from one to the other. Judging by their faces, he wasn’t sure they saw his
point. Oh well, couldn’t make it any plainer than that.

After
being helped inside and over to his bed, Jason plopped down, sinking into the
mattress, causing the box-spring to squeak loudly. He fumbled with his boots
until he finally got them off. Stretching out, he let out a deep,
I-don’t-fell-so-good sigh. Tyler brought in a metal bucket and set it on the
floor beside Jason.

Then,
squatting down at the bedside, he tipped back his hat with his index finger and
sighed. “We
gotta
be over at Irwin’s before sunup.
Helpin
’ him brand a few. Meet us down at the saddle shed at
four.”

Jason
groaned. “I’ll try. If I’m not there, don’t kick me out, okay? Just come dump
water on me or something.” With that the room faded into darkness. Once during
the night, he woke up just long enough to use the metal bucket by his bed then
passed right back out.

Jason
felt someone shaking him. Drawn from his blissful state of oblivion, he pried
his eyes open. After several forceful blinks, he looked up. Tyler stood looking
down at him, holding a burning lantern.

“You
alive?” Tyler asked.

“No,”
Jason replied, but it was mostly just wishful thinking.

“Come
on,” Tyler coxed as he grabbed Jason’s arm. “Get up.” After a bit of struggle,
Jason was sitting up at the edge of his bed. “We’ll be staying overnight, so
you might want to pack some extra clothes.” Jason just sat there motionless,
staring blankly across the room. “Jason,” Tyler spoke loudly. “Come on, man.
We’re pulling out in ten.”

“I
don’t feel good,” Jason moaned.

“Why?”
Tyler asked like he knew the answer but just wanted to make a point.

“I
drank too much.”

“Yep,”
Tyler responded. “You got that right. Be out at the truck in ten minutes.” With
that, he turned and walked out the door.

Eleven
minutes later found Tyler driving and Rye sitting in the passenger seat as they
pulled out onto the dirt road and headed down towards Irwin’s ranch. The middle
seat in the front was empty. “How’s Jason?” Rye asked. A low moan came from the
back seat. That was the only response given. Jason, feeling like a ship lost at
sea, was being tossed side to side, and up and down as the truck bumped and
shook its way along.

“So
you think Susan can hold the fort down ‘till we get back?” he overheard Rye ask.

“Yep,”
Tyler replied. “I’ve been very pleased with the job Susan’s
doin
’.”
There seemed to be no doubt in his mind that she could keep things going until
they returned.

Jason
passed out and didn’t awaken from his bone jarring ride until he felt the truck
come to a halt as Tyler announced, “We’re here.”

When
he sat up, Jason saw a light was on in the saddle shed. Tyler led the way
through the early morning darkness. Irwin was pouring himself a cup of coffee
when they walked in. “How you boys doing this morning?” he asked, giving them a
happy greeting.

“Makin’
it,” Tyler replied as the two men shook hands.

“Jason,”
Irwin smiled. “We meet again. So good to see you, my friend.”

“Good
to see you, too,” Jason responded in a groggy voice.

“What
happened to you?” Irwin asked, a hint of surprise showing through his usually
unreadable features.

“I
drank too much,” Jason answered bluntly.

“I
didn’t know you were a drinking man,” Irwin commented.

“I’m
not,” Jason replied.

Understanding,
Irwin reached up and put his hand on Jason’s shoulder. “I know you’re under a
load, but drinking’s never the answer to life’s problems.”

“Thanks,”
Jason said, feeling uncomfortable with the rancher’s sincerity.

Thankfully,
Irwin didn’t linger on the subject. “Good to see you, Rye,” he said as he
turned his attention to the younger horseman, extending his hand.

“Likewise,”
Rye responded, stepping forward with a nod, giving Irwin’s hand a firm shake.

“You
boys want some coffee?” the elder horseman asked. “Got some breakfast over
there, too,” he added, pointing to plate full of foil wrapped burritos. Coffee
sounded great. Food sounded terrible.

As
the others were eating and Jason was drinking his second cup of coffee, Irwin
began laying out the day’s plan. “We’ll gather the bottom section this morning.
Throw them in groups of about fifty into the far side of the branding pen… work
them from there. Should be finished early this afternoon.” He paused and took a
sip of his coffee. After wiping his mouth with the backside of his hand, he
continued. “When we get finished, we’ll load our stuff on the horses and pack
mule; see if we can get to the north section and set up camp before dark.”

“Sounds
like a plan to me,” Tyler said with a nod before taking another bite of his
burrito.

After
breakfast, the men saddled up and rode off into the darkness. They began
gathering the herd, and a little while after sunup, Jason was standing beside Tyler
in what he assumed to be the branding pen.

Irwin
was on horseback headed towards the herd, which they had gathered up against
the far side of the pen. Rye sat holding the herd of momma cows and their
calves in place as the elder cowboy walked his horse gently into the bunch.

“You’ll
be the rope-man,” Tyler said to Jason with a nod. “
Irwin’ll
rope a calf by its hind legs and drag ‘
em
to us.
Stand over there,” he said, pointing to a spot several yards away. “He’ll go
right between us. You grab the rope, I’ll grab its tail, and we’ll pull in
opposite directions, bringing the calf to the ground… hopefully,” the tall
cowboy said with a hint enthusiasm dancing in his eye. “Get the rope off and
secure its hind legs by grabbing the top one and pulling while shoving the
bottom one up towards the calf’s stomach with your legs.”

About
that time, while Jason was still trying to process the given information
through his muddled mind, he looked up and saw Irwin trotting towards them with
a fighting, bawling calf in tow. The elder horseman passed between them and
came to a halt as Jason grabbed the rope and Tyler grabbed the tail. Doing his
best, in spite of his hung-over state, Jason pulled the rope bringing the
bawling calf down with a plop. Taking a seat in the dirt, he attempted to
follow Tyler’s instructions in securing the yearling’s powerful hind legs. But
his reflexes and movements were more sluggish than usual. The calf jerked a leg
free, kicked the rope off and, somewhere in the midst of it all, slammed a hoof
into Jason’s stomach.

“Get
ahold of him!” Tyler ordered sharply from his position on the yearling’s neck.

Jason
felt a hoof slam into his face. He fell back. “Get up and get ahold of this
thing!” Tyler yelled.

Jason
rose to his feet, dropped on top of the little bull’s back half and grabbed the
top leg once more. Squeezing it for all he was worth, he yanked it back like
his life depended on it as he sank to the ground and jammed its bottom leg
forward with a forceful shove.

After
a few seconds, the yearling quit struggling and lay still.  “Good job,”
Tyler said, looking up with a pleased smile. “A few days of this
ought’a
toughen those hands up.”

“Yes
sir,” Jason said and nodded his head in agreement.

While
Jason and Tyler had been wrestling with the little bull calf, Irwin had trot
over to where Rye was holding the herd and switched places with the young
horseman who had then ridden over to the branding fire, jumped off his horse
and grabbed the branding iron from the flames. As he walked over towards the calf,
Jason nervously eyed the iron. It glowed a bright orange.

“Hold
‘
em
steady,” Tyler ordered as Rye prepared to apply
the glowing hot iron. Smoke curled and the calf bawled, trying hard to kick
loose as the iron burned proof of ownership into its hide.

“Bring
the nippers,” Tyler ordered. “He’s got some nubs.” Rye placed the brand back
into the fire and returned with a piece of equipment made for removing the
beginning of horns from a calf’s head… and that is exactly what Tyler did with
them. As soon as he was through with the nippers, Rye handed him two syringes
filled with vaccination shots for the yearling.

As
Tyler was administering the shots, Rye hurried back over to his horse and
jumped into the saddle just in time to hold herd as Irwin entered it. Tyler
finished with the shots, recapped the needles and stuck the syringes into a
pocket on his chaps before he and Jason let the calf up. They had no more than
gotten to their feet and into place when Irwin went between them with their
next victim.

As
they were working the next calf, Tyler looked over at Jason. “So I never got a
chance to ask… what’d that FBI lady want yesterday?”

Jason
inhaled deeply. The smell of burnt hair filled his nostrils. He let out his
breath in a long sigh. “She said they suspect Misty may have set this whole
thing up.” Tyler frowned like that couldn’t make sense. “They found an account
of hers, just hers,” he added. “It had over twenty-thousand dollars in it. I
knew nothing about the money. Susan said when their grandmother passed away,
they each inherited fifteen thousand. She died last year. I never heard about
the money.” Tyler frowned to himself thoughtfully.

“What’s
worse,” Jason continued, “is she bought two one-way plane tickets and two
passports for Mexico… also something I knew nothing about.”

“Wow,”
Tyler spoke as his eyebrows raised and his head bobbed back slightly in
disbelief. “No wonders you got drunk.” He looked inquiringly at Jason. “But
what about your dream? – You know, wolves, sheep, and Misty and all.”

“Probably
just a stupid dream.”

“So
what are you going to do?”

Jason
felt like just shrugging it off. Give some lame phrase that made it sound like
he hadn’t been crushed by the news. Instead, he sighed deeply and said, “Climb.
The tickets are for the day after. Maybe if I climb, she’ll see that I’ve, um,
you know, changed.”

“Changed?”
Tyler questioned.

Jason
was silent for a moment. “I tell you what,” he spoke dryly, “you tell me all of
your worst mistakes and deepest regrets, and I’ll tell you mine.” Tyler didn’t answer;
he just looked down and busied himself with the task of administering the shots
into the loose hide at the calf’s neck.

A
wave of guilt came over Jason. They let the calf up. “Sorry,” he spoke as they
stood. “It’s just…” His voice trailed off and he shook his head. “It’s just a
lot, you know? I don’t even know how to function anymore.”

“Don’t
worry about it,” Tyler said with an understanding nod. “You’re handling the
news better than anyone could expect.”

“Thanks
man,” Jason said, a bit of relief seeping in. “It was so much simpler when I
thought she’d been kidnapped.”

Irwin
came trotting towards them with another yearling. “Life’s a complicated thing,”
Tyler spoke evenly as he grabbed the tail of the calf.

Jason
grabbed the rope and they both pulled. “That’s for sure,” he agreed after he
fell to a seated position, securing the yearling’s hind legs.

And
so the day went until early that afternoon. Every calf they had gathered that
morning had been branded… except for one. It was a pretty decent sized bull
calf. Again and again Irwin tried to get close enough to heel the little bull,
but each time it evaded him. Finally, he just tossed the loop from a distance,
right around the calf’s neck.

“Uh-oh,”
Tyler said. “This should be interesting.” Jason looked at him wondering what
the proper procedure was in such a situation. “Every man for himself,” were the
words of comfort the big cowboy offered. “We take ‘
em
down however we can.”

As
Irwin drug the young bull to them it began pulling sideways, running in their
direction. Tyler plowed into the yearling first, grabbing it by the head,
trying to twist enough leverage on it to cause the calf to lose its balance and
fall. About that time, Jason plowed into the side of the upset critter as it
came towards him… direct impact. All of the wind seemed to evacuate his lungs
as he bounced off the young bull’s side and slammed into the ground a split
second before it crashed over the top of him.

Gasping
for breath, Jason struggled to his feet, astonished that he was still in one
piece. Before him the battle still raged. Man verses beast… and the beast was
still winning. Tyler was on the opposite side of the calf from Jason with its
head still twisted in a headlock.

Jason
raced forward to do battle once more, hoping the fact that Tyler had the
yearling’s head twisted the same way it was running would make for a little
easier takedown. He charged after them for all he was worth and again slammed
in to the young bull’s side… this time with better results. It stumbled and
crashed into the ground… right on top of Tyler. “You knocked ‘
em
down on me,” the tall cowboy said with a groaning shout,
sounding more than a little bit upset.

“Hey,
it’s every man for himself,” Jason replied as he tried to secure a tight hold
on the flopping critter. “Remember?”

Tyler
grunted in response as he struggled his way out from beneath the front half of
the young bull, obviously remembering the remarks he’d made a few short moments
prior. Once out from under his heavy burden, Tyler piled into his place on the
front half as Jason took his position at the back. Then Irwin turned lose his
dally, giving Tyler the opportunity to loosen the loop around the calves neck
so it could breathe easy again.

Rye walked
over with the hot iron and stuck it to the thrashing yearling’s side. “And
there is the final stamp of approval,” he said with a voice full of
satisfaction as he lifted the brand, white smoke curling up, the strong smell
of burnt hair filling the air. “Any nubs?” he asked Tyler.