Chapter 5

Cheyenne was waiting for me in the bar when I showed up to help with the breakfast crowd. I looked at the clock on the wall. “I thought you’d be on your way to school by now.”

“I’m skipping a couple of days, because I want to keep an eye on our find, at least until Frank gets the issue resolved. I’m going to drive out to the dig and see what happens when he shows up. You want to come along?”

“I probably shouldn’t because Francis isn’t here, and I don’t want to leave Jackie without any help. And anyway, what’s the school going to say about you playing hooky?”

“I have a 4.0 GPA, so I think I’ll be forgiven.”

Of course, she did. “I guess that’s no surprise. But it still wouldn’t be fair for me to skip out on your mom.”

“I didn’t mean right this minute. Let’s give it an hour. Besides, Leonard’s back this morning so he can bus tables for her.”

“Leonard? Oh, yeah, the boy who helps out in the kitchen.”

“Well, he’s not exactly a boy. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

Leonard turned out to be a guy in his early thirties who was learning disabled. According to Cheyenne, his IQ was in the mid 70’s, so he was functional. He loved his job, and he adored Jackie and Cheyenne. Coming to work was what he lived for, and if he got sick, his mother would have a devil of a time keeping him home to recover. She nearly always had to get Jackie to talk to him on the phone.

Cheyenne introduced us and we shook hands. He was a little shorter than me, but he was built like a tank. Hard muscles stood out on his arms and under his T-shirt. I could easily imagine him benching three hundred without breaking a sweat.

He was careful not to squeeze my hand too hard when we shook. The first thing out of his mouth was, “Are you Cheyenne’s boyfriend? Jackie’s my girlfriend!”

I had to laugh at the look on Cheyenne’s face. “Well, uh, Cheyenne and I barely know each other, Leonard. It’s a little early to talk about girlfriends and boyfriends, but hey,” I added, glancing sideways at her, “you never know what the future holds.”

“Jackie said you was a singer. Can I come and listen to you sing some time?”

“Any time you want, as far as I’m concerned. I guess that’s a question you should ask Jackie.” I turned toward the door, “I better get to work. Nice meeting you.”

Cheyenne and I refilled coffee cups, bused tables, and helped Jackie serve until the crowd thinned out. The engineers had been gone about a half hour when we followed the truck heading west.

Again, we lay in the grass watching them do whatever they were doing. Our timing was right on the nose, because no more than fifteen minutes later, we saw Frank come over the hill on his horse and ride down to talk to them. He shook hands with the guy I had pegged as the boss and gestured around at the equipment, presumably asking what it was for. They were far enough away that neither Cheyenne nor I could make out what was being said, but it was pretty easy to see when things went south. The engineer started gesticulating and his voice went up in pitch and volume. Frank held up his hands and shook his head. That’s when the engineer stomped over to the truck to retrieve a folder of some kind. He pulled out a sheet of paper and held it up for Frank to see. Frank just shook his head, dismissed whatever was on the paper with a wave of his hand, and pointed toward the road.

Apparently, the engineers lost the argument, because they loaded their equipment into the back of the truck and kicked up a big dust cloud leaving the area.

Cheyenne and I grinned at each other and headed toward the dig. We pulled the tarp off the fossil and got busy brushing and scraping away more dirt. She didn’t want to dig too aggressively until she heard from the pros, so we mostly just move some dirt around. A few minutes later, Frank rode slowly over the top of the hill and dismounted next to the Land Cruiser. He had a smile on his face as he climbed up to where we were working.

I looked up and asked, “So, what’s the deal, Frank? Did they say what they were looking for?”

“Oh, yeah. Seems they’re pretty sure there’s a lot of natural gas under this land, and they were planning to sink a few wells. The guy wasn’t any too pleased when I told him they were trespassing.”

Cheyenne asked, “Well, why would they even be here without your permission?”

“Ah,” Frank grinned, “That’s where it gets interesting. Turns out they thought they did have permission. The guy showed me a copy of an agreement for drilling rights signed by Frank Cawley. Problem is, it’s the wrong Frank Cawley. I guess my son, Franky signed an agreement a few weeks back, and he also accepted a check for ten grand in earnest money toward a final contract. The man was fit to be tied when I told him Franky didn’t own so much as a handful of dust on this ranch.”

Cheyenne looked dismayed. “Franky? Again? Jesus, Frank, isn’t he ever going to learn? They’ll skin him alive if they ever catch up with him!”

“Yeah, I expect you’re right about that. Least ways, they’ll have his sorry butt hauled off to jail. I swear, Cheyenne, that boy’s thirty years old, and it’s lookin’ like he ain’t never gonna grow up. You just wait; he’ll be callin’ me sometime in the next few days askin’ me to buy him out of it.”

I wondered, “Are you going to do it?”

“Hell, no! Not this time. He’s gonna have to face the music, and I figure standin’ in front of a judge answerin’ to fraud charges might just get his attention.” He looked around and said, “Now show me this critter you been diggin’ up.”

I was sitting in my usual booth shoveling down some oatmeal the next morning when Vic Moreno, the engineer whose explorations had been ambushed by Frank, strolled in with a couple of his cohorts and took the booth right behind me. Apparently, they considered me a non-entity because they didn’t go out of their way to hush their conversation.

As soon as Jackie had poured their coffee and taken their orders, the boss said, “I talked to Anders last night, and you’ll never guess what he told me. That idiot, Cawley, is still in town!”

“No shit?” the guy across the table laughed, “Jesus, the guy must have the IQ of a prairie dog! What are they gonna do with him, have him arrested?”

The boss chuckled, “Eventually, but not right away. Anders is going to send over a couple of the boys to, uh, invite young Mr. Cawley to the office for a little chat. While he’s there, I’m going to be talking to Mr. Cawley senior to convince him he ought to honor his son’s agreement.”

“Gee, I don’t know, Vic! I think that ol’ boy has got a mind of his own. How do you plan to get him to change it?”

Vic dropped his voice but not enough that I couldn’t still hear.

“I just might imply that his boy could suffer some unfortunate consequences if he doesn’t cooperate.”

The other guy rasped in a whisper, “That’s extortion, Vic! Jesus!”

“Call it what you want, I’m betting it’ll work. I’m convinced there’s too damn much gas under that land to lose it on a technicality. For today, I want you guys to head north with Larry’s crew, while I go out and negotiate with the old geezer. We’ll meet back here at noon for lunch and I’ll let you know how it went.”

“Well, good luck with that. I’m glad I’m not in your shoes.”

I didn’t need to hear any more of the conversation. I took my dishes into the kitchen and hurried over to the apartment to tell Cheyenne what was going on.

She was livid! “Those creeps! Well they’re making a big mistake by taking on Frank Cawley. He’s not the kind of person who gets pushed around.”

She grabbed her cell phone and dialed a number. “Frank? Hi, this is Cheyenne. Can you meet Bobby and me at the dig in, say, forty-five minutes? ... Yeah, it’s important ... No, I want to tell you in person. Thanks, Frank. See ya then.”

She grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the door. “Come on, Bobby! This is probably going to be fun.”

“Let me tell Jackie we’re leaving.”

At half hour later at the dig, Frank dismounted his ATV and asked, “How come you didn’t just come on up to the house?”

I’d been wondering the same thing, but Cheyenne had already thought it out. “Because we didn’t know when the boss engineer was planning to talk to you. If he showed up and saw Bobby and me, he’d get suspicious.”

“OK. So, what is this ‘boss engineer’ plannin’ to talk to me about?”

Cheyenne explained.

As Frank thought about what he’d been told, his cell phone rang. He looked at the screen and grinned, “This might be our friend now.”

“Frank Cawley speakin’.” He looked at us and nodded. “Yes, I remember you Mr. Moreno ... Well, I’m out fixin’ some fence right now, but I reckon I could meet you at my house in, oh, a couple of hours. Let’s say about ten ... OK, Mr. Moreno, we’ll see you then.”

He ended the call and busted out laughing and slapping his leg, “You know what makes these guys so much fun to bump heads with? It’s ‘cause they think nobody out here on the land is any smarter than the cattle we’re raisin’.”

He punched a number on his speed-dial and said, “Now you kids pay attention! I’m gonna show ya how this game is played.” After a short wait, “Spence? Hey, you old horse thief, it’s Frank. Look, I got a favor to ask ya. Do you s’pose you could drop by my place at about 9:30 this mornin’? ... Well, I’ll tell ya when ya get here, but I think you’re gonna enjoy it ... Good, good! Thanks Spence. Oh, and when you get here, pull around and park in the barn, would you? ... Right! See ya in a bit, Spence.”

He snapped his phone shut and stuck it in his pocket. “You kids follow me on up to the house and we’ll have some coffee while we wait for the show to start.”

We were met at the door by an attractive Native American woman who appeared to be in her fifties. Frank introduced us. “Bobby, this is Kasuma Spotted Elk. Kasuma, this is Bobby, the guy I was tellin’ you about with the golden voice.”

Kasuma offered her hand and said, “Bobby, I’m so pleased to meet you. Frank tells me you’re about the best country singer to come along since Kenny Rogers.”

I took her hand and demurred, “I guess Frank’s inclined to stretch things a bit. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ma’am. Cheyenne tells me you’re an expert on Native American cultures. I’d sure like to talk to you about that sometime.”

She looked skeptical. “The term expert is usually misleading. The plains tribes in particular are my area of study, and I’d love to sit and have a chat with you if you’re really interested.”

Frank broke into the conversation. “Kasuma, darlin’, would you mind brewin’ up a pot of coffee for our guests? And Spence is gonna show up before too long to do a little strategizin’.”