Chapter 6

To make a long story short, they threw me out of the hospital that afternoon. As I sat in my hospital room waiting for the warden to finalize the release papers, Polly and Anna walked into the room. They wore conservative, for them, black business suits with matching red silk blouses. Each neck was graced by a gold choker that matched the gold band on their right wrists.

"Polly Anna Taxi Service is here to pick up our former favorite redneck," said Polly. "I'm not sure what to do with you, though."

"Yeah, we leave you alone for one day, and you go out and try to get yourself killed," continued Anna. "This is not acceptable behavior, JD. No, it's not the right way to endear your hot little ass to us."

"Then," Polly added, "You call in all those high class relatives of yours to piss off Sal. We are just not happy with you. No, it's not the right way to endear your hot little ass to us."

"No, you are not our favorite person right now. We only came out because Sal would rather have a root canal treatment than pick you up. Polly and I had to leave our sick little sister to pick you up. JD, JD, what are we gonna do with you?"

I was speechless. I had no idea anyone was mad at me. "Ladies, I'm sorry. I don't want to be any problem. I don't want to detract from the time with your sister. I'll get a ride to a hotel room. Is Sal is really that upset? God knows I didn't..."

About that time, Polly started laughing and held out her hand to her sister. "Pay up bitch. You owe me fifty bucks. I told you that he'd take us serious. He's a babe in the woods, and has no sense of humor."

Anna puffed her cheeks out, pulled a fifty dollar bill from her jacket pocket and handed it to her sister. "God damn it JD, why are you always so serious. I thought you knew we'd have to tease you about this whole thing. You can't get shot around here without our trying to lighten things up. It's called gallows humor. Damn, Boy, get with the program.

"Come on. We want to show off our little sister. She's the good one."

I rode the plain old wheel chair/chariot to the loud pink gilded SUV/chariot the girls were so proud of. The girls help me get in the front seat and carefully wrapped the seat belt under the sling on my arm.

Anna started explaining how things ere going to be. "JD, you horn dog, you're gonna have to cut out the date rape and abuse of us black women while our sister is there."

"Rape you," I sputtered. "That's not who got..."

Polly got her two cents in before I could finish. "Of course that's what happened. We're ladies. Ladies don't rape rednecks."

"Uh," I brilliantly defended myself.

Anna continued, "Don't make us show you what happened. We don't have enough time to enjoy reminding you. Besides, it's a long walk home.

"Now as I was saying, there will be no sex around our sister. You will wear a bathing suit or suitable clothing in all common areas."

Polly's turn was next. "We, however, can pretty much do what we want. After all, we are whores, and we have certain expectations to fulfill."

My head was spinning. I think they were playing with me, but who knows? I decided to just pull into myself and let it go.

"JD, you are paying attention here," Anna asked, "aren't you?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Good boy. Now, you no longer have a room, so you're bunking with Sal. Your stuff is already moved. She wouldn't let us have you."

Before I could respond, we pulled into Sal's driveway. It looked like a convention. There were two sheriff cruisers and eight other cars scattered about the area.

"What's going on? Looks like half the town's here."

"Well," replied Polly. "Most of the county fathers are here. They're having a town meeting. I think they're going to invite you to set in. They're not happy with the job Sheriff Shorts is doing, and Sal and Billie raised hell about how he talked to you in the hospital."

"Oh shit, I hope they didn't get me in deeper trouble with the law."

"Never can tell about this little burg," contributed Anna. "Things change here depending on what side of the bed Don Shorts got up on. The only thing steady here is Sal."

I don't need to tell you that I was getting a little concerned here. I just want to rescue my ranch. I hate politics in a big way, even family politics. That's one reason I didn't say too much to Pop when he blew my inheritance. So, with deep apprehension I followed the girls through the front door.

I had no more than entered the atrium when I saw a younger version of the Polly-Anna bounce out of the living room to hug her sisters, bald head and all. She was already over five and a half feet of absolutely gorgeous babe in capital letters. If I didn't already know she was fourteen, I would have sworn she was in her early twenties.

She turned to me with the same predatory look her sisters gave me when Sal introduced us, and slowly walked around me as if she were a buyer judging a horse. When she retuned to her sisters, she looked at me.

"So, you're Aunt Sal's new boy toy? Are you any good, or is Auntie wasting her time?" Every word seemed to be dripping 'mean, 'rude' and 'attitude.'

Now I don't mind fair criticism, and I don't mind teasing. Hell, I can even put up with attitude, but this from a child and one I had never met or, as far as I knew, never insulted personally just wouldn't fly. I looked at the girl and decided that this stops now before it gets started. "That, sweet cheeks, is something you will never know. I don't play well with children."

"Listen, Tex," she countered, "this is not the body of a child. Look at these tits."

"That may be, but you are showing the immaturity of a child, and that's what counts to me. Tits don't equate to grown up. They equate to fat and glands on a woman's chest.

"A woman is a complex being made up of spirit, intelligence, and grace. She's someone who pays to others the same respect she expects to earn in return. I can get tits in any titty bar. It's not what I look for in an acquaintance."

The young girl's attitude left her as if a balloon burst. She stood there wavering between anger and shame at being called a child despite her best effort to present a woman of the world persona.

Polly looked at her little sister. "Where in the world did that crock of shit come from, Les? I have never heard you talk to someone like that. I thought we raised you better than that, missy!"

"I'm sorry. Aunt Sal has been talking about this guy like he was the second coming. I just let it get to me. Can I start over?"

My heart went out to the crying girl. "You know something? I'm all about second chances. My name is Jefferson Davis Barton, Junior. Most people who don't hate me call me JD."

"I'm Leslie Jones. Everyone calls me Les. It is really good to see Sal happy again. Thank you. I don't know why that made me jealous, but it did. Forgive me, JD?"

"Nothing to forgive, Sal is a wonderful lady, and you and I are starting over."

"Right you are. I think you may want to go out in the back yard, though. You seem to be the topic of today's special town meeting. I was chased out when your name came up."

"Thanks Les. I guess I'd better go see what I got myself into this time."

I left the safety of the house and was attacked by a very tiny bikini with an excited Sal hanging out of it. She rushed to my side, gave me a tender hug, and a smoldering, five alarm kiss. "Welcome home roomy. We've been waiting on you to start our meeting.

"Les, why don't you bring JD a big glass of sweet tea? It's going to be a long meeting, and JD is going to do a lot of talking this morning. It seems that our young Texas Redneck has been holding out on us."

I took a look at the people assembled under the patio umbrellas circled about what looked like a tall lawn sprinkler. I saw Sander, Billie, Mary, the Sheriff that had given me a rough time in the hospital, and three people I had never seen before.

Sander took the lead. "JD, you know Billie and Mary. I also believe you've met our illustrious county sheriff, Bob, Foot in the Mouth, Shorts. Before we get started, I believe he has something he wants to say."

The red faced sheriff stood up and cleared his throat. "Mr. Barton, I was out of line at the hospital. My only excuse was I was really having a bad day, and I took it out on you. You did nothing wrong and did not deserve the crap I handed out to you. I apologize for my words and disrespectful attitude."

I looked at the sheriff and stuck out my unbound right arm. "Sheriff, words have never hurt me. Where there's no harm, there's no foul. Let's just call that a misunderstanding and forget about it. By the way, the name's JD."

"Thanks, JD. Call me Bob."

Sander then continued. "Now next to Bob is the town's mayor, Don Shorts. Next to Don is Clyde Wooster the president of the local grange, and his wife, Cynthia. Together with Sal, we are the County Board of Directors."

I took a second to evaluate the people I had just met. Don Shorts' six foot frame was somewhat pudgy compared to his brother's lean taller body. Where women would call Bob a 'long cool drink of water', Don would be called 'cuddly'. Both men seemed almost carefree in their attitudes.

Clyde was an anorexic looking five foot eight with a slightly hang dog air about him as he slouched in his patio chair. The expression on his face almost reminded me of the almost dead look from the pictures of the freed kidnapped victims.

Cynthia was ... well, if looks were anything to go by, she was a real piece of work. At maybe five foot ten or so, she was not much taller than Clyde, but she outweighed him by a good 60 or 70 pounds. Even seated in the patio chairs she seemed to loom over Clyde like a dark cloud as she lit one cigarette from the previous. The yellow stains on her fingers showed a long addiction to what Sal called the evils of tobacco. Attitude permeated the area around her like the smoke from her non-filtered cigarettes.

What was most unattractive about the woman was the angry scowl that seemed to permeate her entire presence. From the deep, permanent frown wrinkles on her face, clearly "angry" was her preferred operating mode. One glance was all I needed to figure out who wore the pants (and spurs) in that family.

A little voice that was Pinkie said in the back of my mind, "Watch this bitch, and don't let her get behind you. She is nothing but trouble. The rest of these people are good stock, but she can be a nasty piece of work."

Pinkie's evaluation was interrupted by Don. "JD, what can you tell us about Samson Hooker?"

In a great display of control I slowly replied, "What was that?"

"When Brother Bob was still pissed off about you, he ran a background check on you back in Texas. We want to apologize for doing that behind your back. For a young man, you have quite a record. You were charged with murder and later exonerated. I think the how and why of that is information we should all have if you intend to make a life in this community. Why don't you take a chance to explain why you killed a man and were then falsely charged for murder?"

Everyone turned to look at me with concern. Even Polly and Anna pulled Les closer to them. Shit! This was something I didn't want to go through again. I looked at the people who I had hoped were becoming friends and saw faces showing uncertainty and fear.

With a repressed anger I replied, "Let me get this straight. You had no reason to run a background on me. I haven't had so much as a parking ticket around here. I damned sure don't remember you, any of you, asking my consent to do that, but you did one anyway for no other reason than Bob was in a bad mood.

"Not only did you stick your noses where they had no legal right to go, but then you dumped it on me in font of my friends. I'll grant you that a lot of the information about all that is public record, but common decency, not to mention the proper police procedures mandate that you discuss it with me in private before making a public display like this.

"Well, clearly, you already know I was cleared of any wrong doing. Like I said, the charges that were brought, their disposition, and the gory details are a matter of public record. You can buy a copy of the public court transcript from the court reporter's office and read it yourselves.

"The case is over and closed. I really don't feel like saying more than that. It took a year to get rid of the constant nightmares, and I still have flashbacks.

"This something you or the Sheriff should have discussed with me privately before making it a public display like this. If you are trying to offend me or piss me off, you couldn't have picked a better, faster way to do it than ambush me like this.

"I'll be inside while you finish your meeting. Billie, if you are still my lawyer, I want to have a discussion about my privacy and civil rights as soon as your meeting is over."

Billie looked at the Shorts brothers and shook her head. "What in the hell are you two bozos trying to pull? You just exposed the county to a law suit that could keep us in poverty for years. Good Lord, Bob did we waste all that money on your training?"

By this time everyone was staring at Bob, who had gone white as a sheet. I guess Bob figured he had better try a bit of damage control.

"Hold it!" Bob stammered. "We aren't trying to make JD look bad. He's a hero. I talked to Nate Hooker, the Sheriff back in Texas, just before I left the office this morning. For the sake of the topic of this meeting, I think the people here need to hear his interpretation of the record of what happened.

"JD, please don't leave. I was so excited to find about your background that I took some shortcuts that I shouldn't have. Will you let me try to get out of this hole my mouth has gotten me into?"

I looked at Billie. "Billie, not only did he go snooping before, did he not just admit he had another swing at it this morning?"

She just shrugged, shook her head in disgust and replied, "It won't hurt your lawsuit against the County any if he keeps digging the hole deeper."

I frowned again. "Bob say your piece. I'll listen and then decide what to do."

"Thank you JD. First off, Nate, I mean, Nathanial Hooker is a county Sheriff in East Texas and was Samson Hooker's brother. In between his junior and senior year at the University of Texas, JD worked on his friend, Eric Simple's family ranch that was located in Sheriff Hooker's county.

"That summer on the Fourth of July weekend, three twelve year old girls, Nate's daughter, Holly Hooker and two of her middle school friends, Belinda Albertson and Gertrude Tucker went missing. They were seen walking together through town to the county fairgrounds to join the town's holiday celebration and circus. They never made it to the fairgrounds.

"Along the way they were seen getting into what witnesses described as a black school bus that had all the windows painted over. It was last seen heading in the direction of the Fourth of July celebration, but never arrived.

"One witness got a glimpse of a man driving. He thought the driver resembled Nate's brother, Samson. It was only a quick glimpse and the witness, a twelve year old boy, wasn't sure. Under those circumstances, no one suspected Samson himself at that point. Unfortunately, there were no other leads. It was as though the girls and the bus had dropped off the face of the earth.

"The fact that it was kidnapping brought the FBI into the case immediately. The fact that the victims were children and one of them was a law enforcement officer's family member brought the Texas Rangers and every law enforcement agency in Texas into the case. An Amber alert went out within hours.

It turned into a cluster fuck. Without an identified suspect or any concrete leads to the black school bus the investigation was stalled for lack of leads to follow.

"In the kidnapping of a child, especially where sexual assault is a possibility, the first 48 hours is crucial. After that the chances of finding the child alive drop dramatically.

"The local ranchers, with Sheriff Hooker's approval, offered to form search teams. After all, who better to search the land than the ranchers and hands who walk, ride and work every square foot of it year after year. The offer was snapped up immediately by the FBI and Rangers.

"As a result the searchers were formed into a sheriff's posse under Sheriff Hooker and broken into two man teams. One such team was made up of JD and his friend Eric Smith. Because they were among the best riders in the county, they were assigned the toughest search grid, an almost impassable swamp along a slow moving river in the lowest part of the area.

"They rode in and out of that swamp and searched from sunrise to sunset for several days. On the fourth day they found a remote, dilapidated cabin that looked deserted. The boys were tired and frustrated, so they let their guard down as they approached the cabin. Eric was riding slightly ahead and to the left of JD."

As Bob spoke to the group, I lowered my head and put my hands over my ears. I did not want to hear this story again. Living the story once and having to tell it a half a million times to every Tom, Dick, and Harry in law enforcement should be more than enough for anyone, but I couldn't stop hearing Bob's words.

"The first shot hit Eric between the eyes and killed him instantly. The next shot hit JD's horse. Under fire, JD made it to the cover of the swamp without getting hurt, but he had to leave his rifle and satellite phone in the open. From where he lay behind a pile of blow down, he could see that Eric's massive head wound was fatal.