Chapter 4

The next morning, we were up early, retracing our steps to the heliport. Jake thought we should go ahead and hit River Ranch in Killeen so he had arranged for the helicopter to take us. It was a two-hour drive or forty minutes in a Helicopter, though the ranch was actually not in Killeen. It was outside the hilariously named town of Ding Dong, Texas, just south of Killeen and the huge army base of Fort Hood.

The ranch was centered on the Lampasas River which meandered through the property for about fifteen miles. There was twenty-three thousand acres to the property, just shy of thirty-six square miles. It sounded like an awful lot to me, but Jake tells me the King ranch was eight hundred and twenty-five thousand acres, an area larger than the state of Rhode Island!

The ranch is mostly scrub and grassland; okay for raising longhorns and some horses, but not much good for anything else. There was a vineyard on the property, in the south east corner, but it was not much more than a break-even proposition right now.

We landed on the ranch itself and were met by the ranch foreman, a big, gruff man by the name of Wilson Lane. He was in his mid-sixties and looked like he was right out of central casting for the part. Weathered, squinting, dressed in dusty boots that had seen better days and a sweat-stained Stetson, he also had a ready smile and a strong handshake.

I learned that this ranch was a working ranch, they were running about three thousand head of cattle and were breeding quarter horses, but that it was not a big money maker. In addition to the livestock, there was some cottage industry as well. The foreman had given a family that did saddlery a place to live and work, and they had a real, live blacksmith that did farrier work on the side for the surrounding area.

I was surprised when I found out the single biggest profit center for the ranch was in the stabling and training of other peoples’ horses. Folks were coming from a hundred miles around to get their horses trained at the stables on the ranch. They had a great reputation as the place to train barrel racers, roping and cutting horses, both for competition and for working ranches.

I didn’t see myself becoming a rancher, but it was awfully peaceful out there and being on a horse, while scary at first, was pretty cool. Made me want a six-gun in a low-slung holster. I made sure to ask Mister Lane if he had everything he needed out there, or if there were things he needed to do to ensure that River Ranch was a going concern in the future.

He allowed that a little more land was never a bad thing, but he was starting to see some real profit in his breeding operations, both cattle and horse, and that the winery was actually taking off now, after a stellar review in Austin and another in Dallas started bringing the hoity toity out to sample the various vintages.

We sat down with Terry and worked out a plan to keep an eye on neighboring parcels of land, snapping up any that became available as long as the price was reasonable. That funding would come from Terry, not out of River Ranch’s funds, though the ranch would then own the land and the tax bill that came with it! Wilson Lane allowed as how that sounded good to him. Imagine that.

We ended up spending the entire day there and bunking in the big ranch house where the Foreman lived before heading back to the city in the morning. We were back and wheels up in Jake’s jet by ten the following day. Destination, Austin.

Austin was the capitol, but it was also a college town with a real bohemian flavor to large parts of it. Called the Berkeley of Texas, with good reason, it was probably the most liberal city in the state, but also the state’s biggest ‘party town’. Not only did it lead in DUI and Marijuana arrests per capita, it led in teen pregnancies and births to unwed mothers. To top it all off, it was the place for up and coming music groups to perform, so the city had the sex, drugs and rock & roll that young adults are supposed to crave.

Fun, right!?

Jake wasn’t so impressed but I thought it would be a cool place to go to school. People watching was something I enjoyed and there were a lot of freaks to watch in Austin!

The apartment building that was part of the trust was at the corner of Guadalupe St and West 13^th Street, just a block or so from the capitol building. The view was pretty cool but I imagine that the cachet of having a penthouse with that view was more important than the view itself. Since I evidently owned the entire building, this wouldn’t be like the one in Dallas. I would hold on to this one like Jake suggested, and use the apartment if I were ever in Austin. Maybe I could lend it out to folks like Jake said he does.

We spent more than half of the next day checking out the University of Texas campus. It was huge! Jake pointed out the infamous clock tower where a Marine playing sniper killed so many people. It was a dark and gory bit of UT lore. The more we walked around the campus and talked to people, explored what the school had to offer, the more I wanted to go there.

Jake made sure I checked out some Texas History in a couple of the many museums in Austin before we called it a night. I was actually excited, looking forward to the next day for a couple of reasons. First, Dave said he had a candidate for my ‘Dave’ spot! The man would be coming to meet up with us when we were at the lake to check up the house and on the boat rental business.

The one downside was that Terry had to fly down to San Antonio, but he said he would try to get back in time to join us at our next stop in Deer Valley.

We were able to take a helicopter to the lake, landing in an open field that looked as if it had been used before. The field was less than a mile from where we were headed and I was surprised to see a suburban waiting for us. Those folks must have gotten up at the crack of dawn! Well, I guess Jake pays them enough not to mind.

With the security team that met us was a man in khakis and a polo shirt under a blazer. He walked right over to Dave, who brought him to me.

“Jack, this is Dean.” he said, handing me a folder. I glanced inside and it appeared to be a resume but there were a dozen other pages in there as well. “I meant to give you the background investigation stuff last night, but there was a missing piece I had to check out first. You’ll find all the details in there for you to look over later.”

I shook hands with Dean and gave him the once over. He looked to be in great shape. Right at about six feet tall, he had a ready smile but it didn’t seem to reach his eyes. Even while we made some small talk, he was looking around, watching people, watching the tree line. His hair was in what the Army called a High & Tight, with the sides tapered tightly and just enough hair on top to comb over. His most distinguishing feature was a scar across his left cheek and the bridge of his nose. It wasn’t deep, but it was there, and paler than the tanned skin around it.

“Tell me about Dean.” I said as we loaded up in the Suburban.

“Well, I spent ten years in the Marine Corps, the last six in MARSOC. That’s the Marine special operations command, like the Rangers Dave played with, but with real skills.” He grinned at Dave who was rolling his eyes. I didn’t know exactly what they were talking about but it sounded like an old rivalry. A friendly one though, thank god.

“Why did you get out? Can’t you retire after twenty years?” I asked, curious about why he was on the hunt for a job.

It looked, for a second or two, like Dean was going to refuse to answer or maybe give me a line of bullshit. Adults do that a lot with kids and we know it, recognize it when it happens despite what they think. He obviously reconsidered and I could see he wasn’t happy talking about this.

“My wife was a Marine too, in a transportation company. We were both deployed, to two different areas so we couldn’t get together really, but we were closer to each other than any of my married buddies were to their wives, so it was cool, you know? We were even in the same time zone, so no staying up until three in the morning so I could catch her before she went to work. Well, we had just returned from a recon, searching for a bomb maker who was supposed to be in the area, and I got called into to see my commanding officer.” He paused, his eyes staring out the window.

“My wife’s truck company had been carrying supplies out to a forward base. The convoy was hit. IEDs took out half a dozen trucks, and mortars had already been pre-sighted in on the road, I guess. The after-action report said that they rained down more than two hundred mortar rounds. Twelve Marines and twenty-two locals were killed in that ambush. My wife was one of the Marines who died. After that, I guess I just didn’t want to be over there anymore. When my time was up, I got out. If I had stayed, I would have had to go back to Afghanistan someday, and I knew it.”

We pulled up to the Marina and everyone got out except me and Dean. I asked the driver to keep it running and to step out.

“Dean, has Dave told you about me, about what you would be doing, I mean?” I asked, changing the subject. The last thing I wanted to do was force someone else to deal with his pain when I couldn’t deal with my own.

“He didn’t tell me much, other than that I would be working to protect a super-rich teen, that you had been through some heavy shit and weren’t some spoiled shithead.” he told me with a grin. “He also said I would be teaching you to defend yourself, to be proficient with our tools, but that was it.”

“Well, short story is that I was kidnapped by a real sicko a few years ago. I have some issues around that, Dave called it PTSD, but whatever. As for being a rich kid, evidently, I am, but I didn’t know I was rich until a week ago, so there won’t be any complaining about the quality of the caviar.” I joked.

“If it’s okay with you, I’d like to take a day or two to get to know each other. Are you free to travel right now? We’ll pay you, of course, for your time.”

“Dave said to come ready to work.” He said, giving me a nod.

The marina and rental business I owned was at a place called Emerald Point on Lake Travis. The house was less than a mile away from the marina and we stopped there first. It was nice looking and decent sized, but not all that special from the outside except for the wide porch that circled the entire home. I am certain that it was psychological but the place gave me the serious creeps just walking through the door. His scent still lingered here and I absolutely refused to even stay in the house long enough to take the tour.

Dean followed me when I left. Okay, I ran out the door - shut up - and my throwing up was probably a bad sausage or something from breakfast.

This place hit me hard, unlike the others, but I knew what it was. This was the place. The one I couldn’t remember before. This was where he brought me. He actually lived here, day in and day out for several years while he served in the State Legislature. The other houses were just places he owned and visited infrequently.

We walked around outside the house for a couple of minutes, Dean keeping me in sight, until Jake, Dave and the caretaker came out again. Jake acted like nothing was wrong but the caretaker seemed a little freaked by my attitude.

“There was an offer on the property last week, but we told the buyer that it wasn’t for sale. The offer was fair, on par with the local values for the area.” he said uncertainly, looking back and forth between Jake and me.

“Jake, do you want this place? I just ... I can’t.” I said, but Jake was shaking his head.

“Do whatever you want, son.” he said quietly, patting me on the shoulder.

I turned back to the caretaker. “Do you have a good idea what this place is worth?”

“I think so, but the way my company usually does it, when selling a piece of property, is to get three appraisals and average the three as a starting point.” he answered, handing me a business card.

“Okay, please do that. I will have my lawyer contact you with the paperwork needed to sell this place.”

“If that is the Wilberforce guys down in San Antonio, we have their info, no problem sir!”

“Good deal, thanks. Now, I think I want to see this Marina.” I said, turning back to Jake, Dave and Dean. I was not going to let this stop me. We would sell this place quickly or I would have Terry burn the place to the ground. In any case, we had some boats to look at and that was almost enough to make me smile.

As we headed the mile or so to the Marina, I had to ask.

“Dave, did you choose Dean because of his name? Jack and Jake, Dave and Dean ... isn’t that a little odd? I am not exactly a mini-me of Jake, so you don’t get a mini-me either.”

Dave grinned at me but shook his head. “Pure luck, Jack. I swear.”

Huh ... not sure if I believe him or not!

The Marina was neat, but it was almost completely short-term rentals that focused on party boats, a few houseboats, some ski boats and a whole shitload of jet skis. There was a salesroom with a few speedboats and a pontoon style party boat, but there didn’t seem to be a lot of folks looking.

I did take a tour of the biggest houseboat and it was aptly named. It was a three-bedroom, three bath party barge with a huge kitchen and a bar, complete with the setup for three kegs of beer. There was another that was smaller and more family, as opposed to fraternity, oriented, that seemed like something I would enjoy.

The manager of the Marina had come out and watched us walk around. He waited until it looked like we were done looking, then approached us.

“Mister McCoy and Mister Reilly?” he asked, holding out his hand. When we nodded and shook with him, he beamed at us. “The bosses in Houston said you were touring around and we wondered if we would see you. I hope everything is good?” he said. He seemed pretty confident that we would be pleased and he was right. The place was clean, the boats well-maintained and the staff was friendly. It was a nice place!

“Very nice, thanks! It is a great place and I can’t think of anything that would make it better, unless it would be to send more business your way.” I said with a smile, trying for the schmooze like I had seen Jake do.

“Well, it is mid-week. You come back Saturday and three-quarters of the day rentals will be out. We make the most money during the summer, of course, and summer weekends are like printing money.” he assured us.

We made nice and then headed back to the helicopter for a ride back into town. We were going to stay in the Penthouse another night at least before heading out of state.

I spent much of the day chatting with Dean, getting to know him. He grew up in Brownsville, down the coast from Corpus Christi, and had dreamed of being a pilot, but he had partial color blindness that kept him from being a military pilot and almost kept him out of the Marines as well.

He did become a pilot on his own and explained the various certifications he had. He had single and dual engine ratings as well as having his instrument rating. He was slowly getting enough hours to get a commercial rating and he hoped, someday, to be able to fly the business jets like the Lears or the Citations.

He was an avid reader of science fiction, just about any kind of military fiction, and he preferred to read on his phone or tablet rather than watch television. He said he got in the habit in the Marines, where the order of the day was hurry up and wait.

We talked about training, and even sat down with Dave to discuss what was needed and the best way to go about it. With so much up in the air right now, it was hard to set up an actual schedule, but we all agreed that it should calm down in a week or two and things would get better.

For now, they discussed Tai Chi, which they called a way to stretch and relax, but whose movements were, in fact, slowly performed martial arts moves. The focus was not on defense and attack, but on the moves themselves and how they stretched and conditioned the muscles. The secondary focus, or primary depending on who you talked to, was the meditation during the exercise, bringing peace and centering the mind.

I refrained, barely, from embarrassing myself in front of these two warrior types and I didn’t give in to my initial urge to go all Hong Kong Phooey. HYAH!

Shut up, I am fifteen, not fifty.

We did agree to start doing the Tai Chi forms the next morning. Since it seemed like Dean was going to stick around, I sat down with him after dinner and we had a talk. I told him exactly what had happened to me. It was hard, harder that it had been the first time with Rene. I think it was harder because this was a guy, you know? Someone I could look up to and emulate.

I segued into the current situation, the reporter, the revelations about my wealth from the class action suit and the trust that Jake had set up. I explained the need for someone to look out for me and train me.

He was quiet for several long minutes and I was getting really nervous. I wanted him to stick around and teach me and I was afraid I had freaked him out.

“So, the lake house?” He asked, not looking at me.

“He, Everett, lived there for several years while he was in the Legislature. I don’t know if I was imagining it but I could smell him and that brought back the smells from that basement. I had to get out of there. I know that makes me weak, but I couldn’t stay, I just couldn’t.”

He looked at me, an angry expression on his face. “Fuck that bullshit. Weak? It doesn’t make you look weak! That ... stuff you went through would mess up anyone. Smells are some of the most powerful triggers for memory and I don’t doubt you smelled the man if he lived there so long. Don’t get down on yourself. You aren’t the only man to have to deal with stuff that would make regular people piss their pants. Hell, from what you told me, I think you are handling things pretty well. I remember being an asshole when I was fifteen. All I cared about was chasing girls and cars.” He finished with a grin.

“So, I haven’t freaked you out, I mean, about all this stuff?”

“Nah. Sorry if I gave you that impression. I just had a flash of how I would feel if my son had lived and had to face what you did. The fact that animal is still breathing just makes me angry. I’ll be happy to stay and help out for as long as you need me, Jack.”

“UP UP UP!” Someone yanked down my covers and smacked me on the ass! What the hell?

“Let’s go, Jack, the sun is up and time is wasting. You wanted to learn? Great! That starts with discipline, exercise, dedication and we start drumming that in to you right now. GET UP!” Dean demanded. Dave was standing right there, laughing at me.

“You jerks! It is only five thirty in the morning! It is still the middle of the night!” I complained, but I got up. Dean handed me some shorts, a t-shirt and a pair of sneakers.

“Take your piss, drink some water and get dressed. Out on the terrace in five, okay? Any more and we will come find you.” He said that last with a maniacal laugh as he exited my room.

I wonder if it is too late to look for a protector and trainer who liked to sleep in?

Tai Chi is all about smooth, controlled movement. Each position is designed to stretch specific muscles and must be performed exactly. Movement from one position to the next is smooth and flowing and, when it is performed by someone who is fluent, it is almost as if the person is dancing in slow motion.

I am sure I looked like I had Muscular Dystrophy out there. I couldn’t even get into some of the stances, much less move smoothly from one to the next, but Dean and Dave were patient, working with me so I understood what I needed to do. I think if we hadn’t stretched out so thoroughly before hand, I would have been crippled after the first session.

The penthouse had a nice exercise room with two treadmills, two bikes, two stair steppers and a universal gym, the boxy thing you see with the various stations. You had to use a pin that slid into a hole between the marked plates to select the weight you wanted to move. Both Dave and Dean rolled their eyes a bit, saying free weights were much better, but allowed that a universal gym was okay for light conditioning.

Today was a light day, or so they assured me, and we spent time going from station to station. The two of them showed me what each station was supposed to do, what muscles they worked on, and how to get the best out of using that station.

Dean had a clipboard and was writing down the various stations, setting up a program for me. Each day I would do a group, whether it was upper body, core or lower body, and on Sunday I would rest. In addition to the weights, I had running, biking and swimming goals too. Neither one of them liked the stair stepper, claiming it was harder on the knees than running but swimming was the best of all for cardio.

Dean and Dave both said they would take the time to set up some exercises I could do if I found myself without a weight room or pool handy. Not having specific tools did not mean I could slack off! How they knew I was thinking exactly that, that my traveling would give me a break every now and then, I’ll never know.

When we were done, we stretched again and went down to the first level to swim laps in the apartment building’s pool. Swimming was my game, something I loved and where I had always excelled. I was a damn dolphin in the water, baby!

We swam for half an hour before Dean and Dave got out. I kept going, upping my speed until I hit my groove, and got another dozen laps in. When I got winded, I glided over to the edge and was just relaxing, listening to the two guys tell war stories. This was pretty damn cool, even if it was still so early. Doing guy stuff.

“Hey kid, the pool is closed, can’t you read the damn sign?”

I turned my head to look and saw a guy in a robe, standing by the gate to the pool area. He looked pretty pissed off. Dave and Dean were on their feet, spread out a bit as if expecting an attack or something.

“Sorry, didn’t see a sign, but I will be honest with you, I probably would have taken the chance anyway. Let me introduce myself.” I said with a grin, climbing out of the pool.

“I don’t give a fuck who you are, or your boyfriends either. The pool is not open until ten, so march your ass out of here. What apartment are you in anyway?” the man had moved forward and was actually blocking the way out of the fenced enclosure. We could have hopped the fence, but this was getting silly.

“Wait, listen, you don’t understand.” I said, moving towards him with my hand out. “I am...”

The guy strode forward, his fists clenched and, before I could blink, Dave and Dean were there, each had a hold on one arm and each doing something that made the guy turn deathly pale. The noise coming from the guy’s mouth wasn’t even human!

“Whoa, guys, it’s okay, let’s talk to him. Listen, mister. This building is owned by who, do you know? The McCoy trust, right?” The man looked confused, but he nodded, his eyes darting back and forth between Dave and Dean.

“I am the McCoy. It’s my trust and I own the building and am in the penthouse while I am here. You really should be nicer to people though. You never know who you are cussing at.” I told him, gesturing for the guys to put him down.

“How was I supposed to know who you were?” the guy complained, rubbing first one arm, then the other, just above and inside the elbow.

“That’s the point. If you are the manager here, you should be polite to everyone and treat everyone with respect.” I said, wondering if the guy was related to someone and that is how he got the job.

“Look, I been running this place since it opened and I never had no problems. I don’t care if you own the building or not, I answer to the lawyers, not you. I got a hundred percent billing rate in this joint.” he said with a mixture of pride and rebellion in his voice.

“Whatever. Look, you can be sure you will be hearing from those ‘lawyers’ very soon.” I said with disgust, brushing past to grab my towel from a lounger. Dean had his gym bag hanging from his shoulder, his hand just inside the flap and Dave had his bag as well, but the strap was hanging from his hand.

“I’m calling the cops, you can’t just assault me!” The man bellowed after us as we filed past.

“Tell them we are in the penthouse when they get here.” Dean called back without turning.

Upstairs, I dialed Terry’s cell phone. I felt bad about calling this early, it was only seven, but I wanted to fill him in before the cops, if the guy really called, could get here.

The phone connected, I heard “Alcott.”

“Terry? Jack McCoy.”

“Jack! What’s up man? Problem?”

“Maybe. We are in Austin, at the Capitol Apartment building. We were working out this morning, then went for a swim. The building manager is a crude, rude asshole who threatened to call the cops on us, even after I explained who I was. I wanted you on this before the cops show up.” I told him, explaining exactly what happened.

“Okay, give me ten minutes, okay? I was on the way in and am almost at the office. Let me get you a lawyer up there to come over, just in case. If the cops get there, refuse to speak to them without a lawyer, but you can ask Mister Reilly to show them the trust paperwork that proves ownership. If the cops buy it, trespass that asshole off the property and tell him you will ship his personal belongings to him along with his last check.” Terry said with a laugh, disconnecting.

Ten minutes later, I was just out of the shower and getting dressed when my phone rang and there was a knock at the front door. I answered the phone.

“Mister McCoy? Adam Trujillo, Fernandez, Trujillo and Farmer. I got a call from a firm in San Antonio that we have done business with in the past and said you might need representation. I am about five minutes away from your building now. You are in the penthouse?”

“That’s right, Mister Trujillo. There was a knock on the door, one of the guys probably got it. The way this is going ... oh, hold on.” There at the bedroom door was Dean and a police officer.

“Hang up the phone and come out here, kid.” the cop called, moving to step into the room. Dean managed to get in front of him and just stood there, eyeball to eyeball with the guy. I could see his face getting red.

“Mister Trujillo, the police are here and one is already being rude and demanding. Right now, he is facing off with my security personnel over his attitude.” I told him, walking up behind Dean and tapping him on the shoulder.

“Officer, I have my attorney on the phone, he is almost here. I will not answer any questions until he arrives. I am a minor and demand to have an attorney present during questioning.” I told the cop, parroting what Adam Trujillo was telling me over the phone.

“Hang up the phone and get into the living area with the others or I will arrest you right now for impeding an investigation and tack on a resisting arrest charge too.” he growled, still glaring at Dean.

“Thank you for saying that loud enough for my attorney, officer. I am getting off the phone and he is getting on the elevator.” I pretended to disconnect and turned like I was going to set the phone on the dresser. Instead, I slid it inside my shirt like Mister Trujillo had suggested.

Dean stepped aside and the officer, grabbed me by the upper arm, dragging me out of my room, down the hall and shoved me into the living area so hard that I tripped over the ottoman and gave myself a pretty good smack on the shoulder when I fetched up against the coffee table. I am just glad the glass top didn’t break!

“Whoa, what the hell is going on here, Collins?” I heard. I looked up, from my position on my back, laying on the floor, to see an older police officer standing above me. He had three stripes on his arm, though I didn’t notice any on the other officer, so I assumed he had higher rank.

“The kid refused to hang up his phone when told to and then the meathead bodyguard almost got a ticket for assault on a police officer in the performance of his duty.” The younger officer said, crowding Dean’s space and being aggressive, now that he had backup.

“Jesus ... did your mother drop you on your head? Do you...” His question was interrupted by the entrance of a well-dressed man with a briefcase in one hand, his phone, obviously filming, in the other.

“Why is my minor client on the floor, holding his shoulder?” the man demanded. The older officer just clapped a hand over his eyes and groaned.

“I am Jake Reilly, who are you?” Jake asked, talking to the suit.

“Sorry, Mister Reilly, not being intentionally rude, but my concern is for the young man I was retained to represent. I am Adam Trujillo of Fernandez, Trujillo and Farmer, a firm here in town. I was contracted by Charles Wilberforth of Wilberforth, Meyers and Peterson down in San Antonio, to act as Mister McCoy’s legal representative in Austin. I came here to clear up an issue with the building management only to see the Austin Police Department assaulting a minor.”