Chapter 16

Thursday, May 3, 2007

The preceding weeks had been busy. Scott had found time to stop at the engine center to say hello. Mr. Piotrowski was right as usual. There were no hard feelings and in fact his old co-workers were delighted to see him. With Scott's assistance, Noah examined the Yamaha and declared that it was holding up very well. Scott did manage to have a short conversation with Rico Lopez. They would have talked longer, but Rico was a busy man. The big news from Rico was that Mr. Mendoza had purchased a small commercial building in Fort Stockton along with the assets of a bankrupt welding business. Rico was going to be the assistant shop manager for the newly christened 'Pecos County Welding'.

Scott's own news had been just as rewarding. Midland College had quickly awarded him credit for the Spanish and Algebra tests. With that information he'd met with Principal Reynolds to set his sophomore schedule. The best part of the meeting was getting official notice that the school had agreed to waive the usual junior-senior requirements and grant him concurrent enrollment status. In exchange, Principal Reynolds presented him with a contract setting out grade point and attendance requirements. Fall below the agreed upon levels and he'd have to go back to a regular high school schedule. Scott happily signed.

Discussions about the dinosaur tracks were at a standstill. Donna's group at the University of Chicago had commitments to a dig in the Dakota's over the summer. As it stood now, Donna, along with a couple of undergraduate assistants, was going to fly down during the summer and examine the find. The date hadn't been firmed up, but it would probably be in late July or August.

On the personal front, his relationship with Lacey continued cautiously. Grounding had drastically changed Lacey's attitude. She had dropped any discussion of clandestine meetings saying, "If I have to spend another week locked up in the house I'm going to scream." From now on Lacey swore she was going to work within her mother's restrictions. Scott didn't mind, even though their relationship had grown a little awkward.

These thoughts bounced around in his head as he sat in the upstairs office at Mr. Piotrowski's staring at his laptop. All he had to do to complete summer registration was click the button and confirm payment from his bank card. He sent the payment through and headed downstairs.

"All good?" asked Mr. Piotrowski.

"It's done. Paid for and everything."

"When does the semester start?"

Scott rubbed both hands over his face before replying, "Three more weeks of high school. Then a whole week off, and the summer session starts June fourth. The same day I go fulltime at the big ranch."

"Not much of a summer vacation," Mr. Piotrowski observed.

"It's not like I was going to hang around at Broken Creek," Scott said.

"True," Mr. Piotrowski said, "but you should try to relax a little."

"I'm too busy to relax," Scott replied.

That got a laugh out of Mr. Piotrowski.

Scott rode to school Friday morning so that he could have dinner with the Mendozas that evening. The mood of the student body was mixed. Final tests and class projects had put pressure on everyone, but summer vacation was just weeks away. After school he made a quick trip over to the law office and let himself in through the back door. He walked to reception. It didn't look like either lawyer was in.

"Would it be okay if I had my college textbooks delivered here to the office?"

The receptionist looked up, "I don't see why not? Regular post or delivery service?"

"I can tell you in about five minutes. I think the books will come from Midland so it shouldn't take too long, but I don't know for sure."

"Just let me know," she said.

Scott walked back to the office and turned on his laptop. The bookstore's website told him what texts the instructors wanted him to buy after he punched in his course numbers. He frowned as he read the book descriptions.

"What's the matter," Honour asked.

He looked up from the laptop and pushed himself away from the desk. Honour was leaning against the doorframe. She was backlit by light from the hallway.

"Textbooks," he said. "I can't believe how much they cost. My history class requires two books, they're more expensive than the class was."

"Ouch," she said. "I'm afraid it's only going to get worse. Is the price going to be a problem?"

"I've got the money, but I'm not going to like what it does to my savings."

"What about used books?"

"They've got them," he acknowledged. "Although they're really not much cheaper. I might save twenty or thirty dollars. Every bit helps."

"Come on, I'll buy you a drink," she said.

Scott followed her to the tiny coffee room. She dug a bottle of cold water out of the refrigerator and handed it to him.

"Any news on those grant applications?"

He took a drink before replying, "No, but I didn't expect to hear anything yet. It's not all bad. This fall they're letting me do concurrent enrollment. That means the state will pick up the tuition costs."

"That's great!"

"Yeah, it is. I guess I really don't have anything to complain about." He looked at the time, "I better get going."

"Big plans?"

"Dinner at a friend's house."

"Sounds nice," she said as she walked back to her office.

Scott hurried to follow her, "Can I ask a question?"

She stopped and looked at him, "Of course, always."

"When did you know you wanted to be a lawyer?"

"Career advice? That's what you want to ask me about?" she asked. "Who do you talk to about other things?"

"What do you mean?"

"Life, the mysteries of the universe, girls, things like that?"

"I thought girls were the mystery of the universe."

Honour burst into laughter, "Touché."

Getting her to laugh made him feel ten feet tall. "I talk to Mr. Piotrowski about most things, Judge Upcott, my friends."

"Am I one of those friends?" she asked.

"Of course, but you're also my lawyer. I can tell you things that I can't tell anybody else."

"You could, but you haven't. I know you have your reasons. You are a frustrating young man."

"I'm a teenager."

"And it's your job to be frustrating?" she said.

"So I'm told."

She gave him a little smile, "I think I always wanted to be a lawyer. I just knew, so it's probably not what you wanted to hear. You should ask Joseph."

"I'll do that. Thanks, Honour."

Scott collected his laptop and headed over to the Mendoza house. Traffic was light as he made his way toward the house. A few people waved as he rode by being friendly as folks are in small towns. At a stop sign a block from his destination a group of younger boys wanted to race him on their bicycles. He goosed the motorcycle's throttle and they cheered.

The family was gathered on the back deck when Scott finally parked beside the detached garage. Mr. Mendoza was grilling chicken. It looked like they were going to be eating out on the deck.

Mrs. Mendoza spotted him, "Scott, run in and grab the salad from the refrigerator for me?"

He pulled the large wooden bowl of salad from the fridge. Janie, the youngest Mendoza, came through the kitchen door.

"Need any help?" she asked.

"Can you find some salad tongs?"

Janie dug through a drawer and held up her find, "Anything else?"

"I guess we'll find out," he went to the back door and held it open. "After you, Milady."

Janie curtsied and ran laughing out onto the deck. Mrs. Mendoza took the salad bowl from him and told him to find a seat. Scott always enjoyed dinner with the family. He lost himself in the good food and the ebb and flow of conversations around him. Robert Mendoza had gotten a scholarship to Arizona State to play baseball. It sounded like half the family was going help him move out to Tempe in June.

Janie kicked Scott in the shin. He looked across the picnic table and she pointed her fork at her father. Scott glanced at Ed who just shook his head.

He swallowed and said, "Great chicken."

"Thanks," Mr. Mendoza said. "But I was asking how you liked your new job?"

There was good natured open laughter, and he joined in. Finally he got out, "It's different that's for sure. I like it though, and the hours are perfect for me."

That seemed to satisfy his social obligations for the meal.

Saturday morning found him riding in a truck with Bern Lewis. Scott was wearing the Lewis uniform; tan hiking pants with cargo pockets, and a long-sleeve blue shirt embroidered with 'Lewis Outfitting' over the breast. Mrs. Pope informed him that the color was British desert tan while the winter version would be a darker, chocolate brown. It didn't matter to him. If they wanted to buy him clothes then he wasn't going to argue.

It was a quiet ride. Things had been a little tense out at what they were now calling the 'Lewis Sportsman Ranch.' Scott wasn't sure what the source was, but thought it might have something to do with Bern's son, Junior. He'd caught the tail end of a heated argument between Mr. Pope and Bern. Junior seemed to be the topic. Scott did his best to keep his head down.

He concentrated on the GPS unit in his lap and compared it with the instructions in the booklet that he was reading. They were heading out to the other Lewis property where he'd be spending his summer.

"We're here," Bern said.

Scott looked up as Bern turned off the main road. The lodge here appeared to be an older structure and was decidedly smaller than the one at the other ranch. There was a man waiting outside for them. He had that same long and lean, weather worn look that all outdoorsmen seemed to have. He was wearing a version of the Lewis uniform, but with a red shirt topped off by a ball cap.

"He's all yours," Bern said as he stalked off toward the lodge.

The man waited until Bern had disappeared inside. He handed Scott a desert camouflage ball cap with 'Lewis' embroidered on it. "I'm Tony Lewis," the man said. "I'm a Lewis cousin, but don't hold that against me."

"Scott MacIntyre," he replied.

"I know, the source of all the excitement today."

"I don't understand," Scott said.

"You had the misfortune to show up the boss's son," Tony said. "That's a good thing, don't worry about it. I think you're exactly what I need this summer."

Scott nervously formed the bill of the baseball cap before putting it on. "I haven't done anything like that," he protested.

Tony gave him a look, "Actually you did. Mr. Pope called and told me all about it. He had a lot of good things to say about you. What you did was the work he assigned you, and Junior, not so much."

Scott suppressed a groan. He knew Junior was lazy, but he didn't want to be the cause of conflict. He'd never had any problems working for Mr. Mendoza. Maybe that was because Ed was the only family member working for him. The Lewis clan did things a lot differently.

"Don't look so worried," Tony said. "I'm a lesser Lewis. Now, don't get me wrong. I love the job, but I don't play in the family political battles. If you work as hard for me as you did for Mr. Pope then we'll get along famously."

Scott gave him a weak smile of thanks as they walked.

"This is our vehicle shed," Tony said as they approached an old pole barn. "We've got a mix of ATVs, all-terrain vehicles or four-wheelers, and UTVs, the utility terrain vehicles with a roll cage. You've got your driver's license?"

"Yes, sir, and a motorcycle endorsement."

"Call me Tony. Find a helmet that fits," he said pointing toward a shelf.

Scott dug through the open face motocross style helmets until he found one that fit. Tony spent a few minutes going over the operation of the different vehicles. They mounted up on a pair of four-wheelers and went for a ride. Scott followed Tony as they drove around. After a while Tony pulled to a stop and waved Scott up beside him.

"You look pretty comfortable. How's it feel?" Tony asked.

"Feels good. I don't think I'll trade my bike in, but I like it."

"What do you ride?"

"An old Yamaha RD200."

"Two-stroke? Those are fun. Now, these four-wheelers are great, but they'll bite you if you get stupid. Ride safe and we won't have any problems. Got your phone?"

Scott dug it out of a pocket and showed it to Tony.

"Tell me what kind of signal you've got."

"I've got two bars," Scott said.

"You'll get reception on about a quarter of the ranch. It's hit or miss. We use hand radios a lot. Let's head back and I'll try to explain what I want to use you for."

They parked back at the barn and topped off the fuel tanks. Inside the lodge, tables had been set up and there were a series of white boards scattered around. Scott looked around curiously. The tables were covered with detailed maps and aerial photographs. The white boards were covered with photos of deer, and appeared to be sorted by zones.

"I turn the lodge into my command center in the off season," Tony explained. He pointed at the boards, "This is all population management; rough counts of the herd, where different animals have been sighted. These maps also show our current food plots and feeder locations."

"How do you get the pictures?" Scott asked.

"Technology," Tony said. "We have digital cameras mounted at various points around the property. Day or night, when the deer come by and activate the camera we can get stills or video depending on how we have each station set."

"That's pretty cool."

"Over here is what I wanted to show you," Tony said as he led him over to the large work tables. "You can see how big a project this survey is. What I've decided so far is that we'll start at the far end of the property and work our way back toward the lodge over the summer."

Scott whistled softly as he looked at the map, "How many of us are there going to be?"

"Well, there's going to be three of us. You, me, and Junior," Tony glanced around before shrugging his shoulders. "We've got three months."

"So how can I help?" asked Scott.

"That's what I like to hear," Tony said. "We're going to use the next three weekends to test out a few ideas. Is it better to use a big truck as a logistics base and drive it in and out every day, or should we set up a camp and relocate it as we move from one area to the next? We'll try out a few different things and see what works."

Scott's head was packed full of information when he left with Bern a couple of hours later.

Three final weeks of school, and Saturdays spent on the ranch practicing for the summer survey, left Scott a bit frazzled when the final bell rang Friday afternoon. He had cleaned his locker out the day before so there was no reason to hang around. He didn't expect to see his friends much over the summer. He'd barely seen Lacey. She'd joined a study group that met during lunch. He didn't think studying during lunch was very effective if you hadn't bothered to study during the semester, but she said she needed every advantage she could get before finals. Bo was leaving after the holiday weekend for football camp, and Ed was staying in town because his job at the city pool started immediately. Rene and Molly were headed off on various family vacations. The group had planned to try to meet at the pool when their schedules would allow it later in the summer.

Scott stopped at Meritt's to check his mail box. He had the usual junk mail. For some reason he had started getting a large parts catalog about every other week. He had to pry it out of the box. He tore his address off and pitched it into the nearby trashcan with a loud, 'thunk'. The only thing left was an envelope from an address he didn't recognize. The letter had been squashed by the catalog so he opened it carefully.

Heads turned his direction as he jumped and yelled outside the post office. He waved the letter triumphantly and ran to his motorcycle. He sped out of the parking lot and up the road to Mr. Piotrowski's.

Jobe barked excitedly as Scott came through the kitchen door with a bang. Mr. Piotrowski emerged from the downstairs bathroom drying his hands on his overalls.

"What's all the commotion?"

"I got a grant!" Scott shouted. "Five hundred dollars."

"No kidding?" replied Mr. Piotrowski as he took the letter. "That's terrific."

"It sure is," Scott replied as he knelt and scratched Jobe's neck. The dog licked his ear, and Scott used his hand to dry the dog slobber. "They even said I should apply again for the fall semester."

Mr. Piotrowski folded the letter up and handed it back to him.

Scott carefully tore the check along the perforated lines separating it from the statement, "I'll have run by the bank and get this deposited."

"What do you have planned for the afternoon?" Mr. Piotrowski asked.

"Thought I'd sweep out the storage building, and check out that loose railing on the porch."

"Don't start any big projects. That railing probably just needs tightening up. I want you to take Saturday and Sunday off. You should try and relax this next week as much as possible."

They'd been invited to Judge Upcott's big Memorial Day barbeque on Monday, but after that they had little else scheduled for the week. With the holiday weekend off, Scott spent more time at Broken Creek than he had since Christmas. The summer population was down to six ranchers. He helped the boys clean their bunkhouses from top to bottom. Old mattresses and linens were thrown out. Windows were washed and miscellaneous repairs completed. Mr. Rewcastle got into a heated argument with the ranch foreman. The bunkhouses needed to be reroofed according to the foreman, but Mr. Rewcastle was not having it.

Scott's own room looked bare. He'd boxed up his personal possessions and moved them to the upstairs bedroom closet at Mr. Piotrowski's. The only thing left was the flag hanging behind the bed. He'd even moved his lockbox. He'd wrestled with the decision, but in the end he'd moved it to the bedroom at Mr. Piotrowski's and placed it in plain sight on the closet shelf.

Sunday morning the boys helped Mrs. Delgado clean the kitchen. They emptied all the shelves and wiped them down. The large pantry was emptied and cleaned out. They took a break for lunch and had cold sandwiches outside. The boys wandered off to watch the foreman and his crew. They were installing new railings around the paddock. Scott helped Mrs. Delgado clean up the discarded paper plates.

"Mijo," she said getting his attention. "How much longer do you think?"

Scott looked at her and tried to gauge what she was asking him. He wondered if she felt it like he did. "I don't know," he replied.

Her mouth twitched. She wanted to ask him more questions. "You'll be seeing me tomorrow you know?"

"I will?"

"You will. Jorge and I have been invited to the big party."

He started to ask her how, but she held up a finger to her lips. He looked at her and she smiled in response.

Monday morning over Mr. Piotrowski's protestations, Scott took the porch railing down and stripped the paint back from the problem column. The column had rotted around where the railing had been attached. He carefully removed the rot and filled the voids with synthetic wood filler.

"You better get cleaned up if we're going to make to the judge's party," Mr. Piotrowski said coming out onto the porch. "How's that filler working out?"

"I think it's going to do nicely, but we'll know for sure after it's dried. The directions say that you can drill and paint it, just like the real thing."

Scott stripped down to his underwear and tried to get clean in the upstairs bathroom. He scrubbed at the filler stuck to his hands. It was stubborn material and refused to come off easily. He stared at his hands. Help me out here why don't you, he thought? His fingers tingled and he held them under the faucet. The synthetic material slipped off his hands under the force of the water. He wiggled his clean, pink fingers.

He sniffed an armpit. His deodorant was holding up. He looked at himself in the mirror. Why not, he thought. He held his arms out and spread his feet in an echo of Da Vinci's famous drawing, closed his eyes, and concentrated on getting clean. He felt a tingle all over his body and cracked one eye open. He was covered in goose bumps and the hair on his arms and legs was standing up. The hair on his head looked like he'd touched a live wire. He clenched his eyes tightly closed until the sensation faded.

Scott felt clean, but his hair was a mess. This trick could come in handy, he decided. He grabbed a brush, and there was an audible crack of static electricity when the brush touched his hair. After he recovered from that little shock, he put on his best pair of jeans and a nice shirt and headed downstairs. Mr. Piotrowski shouted that he would be a few minutes longer. Scott checked Jobe's water bowls and set out a new bully stick from the pantry. Jobe walked around Scott sniffing him closely.

"What?" Scott asked.

Jobe stuck his nose in Scott's crotch and sniffed.

"Hey, watch it," Scott complained pushing the dog's nose away. "You start doing that and somebody's going to be in the dog house."

Jobe licked Scott's hand, woofed, and went to his bed.

"Tell the boss that I'm moving the truck if he asks."

They were on their way to the party when Mr. Piotrowski interrupted Scott's quiet mood, "Tell me what you think of those UTVs you've been using."

"I like them. They're more useful than the four-wheelers, but the four-wheelers can go some places the UTVs can't. Why do you ask?"

"I might have a line on one."

Scott looked over at Mr. Piotrowski, "Why on earth would you want one?"

"I thought it might come in handy when your paleontologist and her people come down."

"That's an awfully expensive thing to buy for a onetime use," Scott said.

"There's a gentleman farmer who's learning an expensive lesson. Thought we might take a trip over there tomorrow and you could tell me whether or not it's a good deal."

"I can tell you what kind of condition it's in, but only you can decide if it's a good deal or not."

Mr. Piotrowski shook his head, "I suspect you've got a better nose for a good deal than you give yourself credit for."

Scott pondered that comment until they reached the judge's place. There were cars and trucks parked everywhere.

"I had no idea it was this big a party," Mr. Piotrowski said as they walked to the house.

"Me either. Who are all these people?"

Behind the house were two large tents providing shade for several tables. People were scattered all around talking and laughing. Caterers were stationed at a long table dishing out lunch.

"Alex, Scott, so good of you to come," gushed Bea Upcott as she walked toward them. "Let me take you over to Elijah. He'll want to know you're here."

"Thanks for the invitation," Mr. Piotrowski replied.

"My pleasure. Scott, you're getting so big. I can't believe how you've grown since the last time I saw you."

"This is a great looking party," Scott said. "Who are all these people?"

"County employees, and various friends of ours," she replied. "Speaking of his eminence, darling, look who's finally shown up."

Judge Upcott turned away from the conversation he was in. He kissed his wife chastely on the cheek, and stuck his hand out to Mr. Piotrowski. The two men shook hands and exchanged greetings.

"Glad to be out of school?" Judge Upcott asked putting his arm around Scott's shoulders. "And when are we going to have our quarterly meal? You're so busy now it sounds like we'll have to work around your schedule for a change."

"Is this Wednesday, or maybe Friday, too soon for you?"

The judge checked his schedule on his phone. "Wednesday, lunch? We'll go over the Cattleman's Café and try one of their steak sandwiches?"

"Yes, sir. Sounds good to me."

"Why don't you go find Sheriff King? He was asking about you earlier. I'll stay here so Alex and I can talk about you."

The two men waited until he walked away before putting their heads together. Scott glanced back, but the judge gave him a shooing motion. He wandered around the party. He recognized a few faces. He maneuvered around one large group gathered by a beer keg and ran right into Jorge and Luisa Delgado.

"Scotty," Jorge said. "Luisa said you'd be here. What a place, eh?"

Jorge had a beer in one hand and was in a party mood. "Did you tell him the news?" Jorge asked his wife.

Mrs. Delgado shook her head, "Not yet. Maybe you should switch to soda?"

"I could use a drink," Scott said.

"Are you hungry?" she asked.

"You know me, I can always eat. So what's the big news?"

"Let's get some food and we'll tell you."

Jorge set his beer down and the Delgados steered him toward the serving line.

"They put out a hell of a spread," Jorge said looking at the various selections.

Scott grabbed a glass of unsweetened tea and followed the Delgado's over to a table, his plate was overflowing with beef ribs, a pile of barbecued chicken, potato salad, and a couple of rolls. He waved and got Mr. Piotrowski's attention. Pointing to the table with his glass he got a thumbs-up in return.

"He's a growing boy, what's your excuse?" Mrs. Delgado asked her husband, pointing at his plate.

Jorge winked at Scott and wiped the barbecue sauce from his fingers. "Good grub. Tell the boy the news."

"Jorge got a job with the county's business development office," she announced. The happy couple smiled at each other. Jorge saluted his wife with his tea glass.

"That's great news," Scott replied.

"What news is that?" Mr. Piotrowski asked as he sat down with a plate of his own.

"Jorge's working for the county now," Mrs. Delgado explained.

"That is good news. Congratulations you two."

The adults caught each other up on current events while Scott polished off his lunch. He was gnawing at a rib bone when somebody spoke up from behind him.

"Getting enough to eat?" the voice asked.

It was Sheriff King.

"I'm thinking about seconds," Scott confessed.

"Come walk me through the line. I wouldn't want you to starve," said the sheriff.

Scott and the sheriff made their way through the line exchanging small talk. The sheriff was interested in Scott's summer job, but even more interested in his summer classes. They walked back to the table where Judge Upcott was being entertained by Mrs. Delgado.

"Walt, I found a new source of Scott stories. Meet Luisa Delgado and her husband, Jorge. They both worked at Broken Creek," the judge proclaimed.

"Do tell," the sheriff said.

"Luisa, tell the Sheriff the story about Scott and the horse apples," Judge Upcott said with a grin.

"Hey!" Scott protested. "I think the sheriff should tell us some Judge Upcott stories."

The sheriff snorted while the judge protested that the statute of limitations hadn't expired on any of his stories. The judge continued to hold court at their table as various people drifted by to say hello. Scott enjoyed watching the Delgados. Mrs. Delgado was really happy about Jorge's new job, and she reveled in the attention. The judge's wife brought some people over to sit at their table. Scott smiled at the little girl that sat down next to him.

"I'm Charlie and I'm going to be in second grade," the girl said introducing herself.

Scott wiped some barbecue sauce from his mouth before replying, "I'm Scott and I'm going to be in tenth grade."

"I know."

He was trying to figure that comment out when the rest of her family sat down across the table. Mrs. Gregory was glaring at him while Lacey gave him a little wave and started whispering in her mother's ear.

He looked at the little girl, "Charlie, huh?"

"Yup," she said as she nibbled at a roll.

The judge took notice of the newcomers, "It's Gale isn't it? From Administrative Services?"

"Yes, your honor. These are my daughters, Lacey and Charlotte," Mrs. Gregory said.

The judge introduced the Delgados, Mr. Piotrowski, " ... and of course our distinguished Sheriff, Walter King." The adults made polite conversation checking to see if they knew some of the same people.

Scott glanced over at Lacey and she looked back at him nervously. Charlie was watching them both closely. He leaned over and whispered to her, "Don't worry. I may be one of the sheriff's prisoners, but they let me come to the party on account of my good behavior."

"No you're not," Charlie said a bit too loudly. "You're Lacey's boyfriend."

"Well, isn't this interesting," the judge said in the silence that followed.

"My daughter is too young to date," Mrs. Gregory said as Lacey slouched in her chair.

"If you need a reference, he's a fine young man and a personal friend," the judge said.

"I did not know that he could turn that color," Mr. Piotrowski observed.