The Right Side of Wrong Page 10

  “I’ll be back directly, Mama.” The screen door slapped behind him and Ned joined Cody in his El Camino. He settled in, trying to fit his round frame into the tight front seat. “You need a haircut.”

  Cody grinned, knowing the curls over his collar bothered Ned. It was a far cry from the Boy’s Regular that Top wore, or Ned’s crown of hair trimmed short around a bald pate. The truth was, he intended to go up to his Uncle Buck’s front porch barbershop that same morning, but the call had interrupted his plans.

  For Ned’s sake, Cody lowered the volume on the radio so the Beatles singing “Eight Days a Week” wouldn’t annoy him any more than he already was.

  Ned twisted the knob even more, to silence the radio. “What’d Carl do this time?”

  “He’s trying to start a fight with anybody he can drag in. Neal called from the store and said we might want to get over there.”

  Neal Box owned one of the two wood-framed general stores bracketing the rough domino hall. His store was originally the Center Springs courthouse that fell in disrepair and was in danger of rotting away. Neal bought the one room building, moved it next to the domino hall in competition with Oak Peterson’s store on the opposite side, and after a facelift, stocked the shelves with bread, canned goods, feed, harnesses, and other small farming implements.

  “You feel like fooling with this today?” Ned watched bodark fence posts flash past his window. Cut from the hard wood of scraggly bodark trees, the usually crooked posts defined the fences of northeast Texas. “I’m not completely sure you’re healed up.”

  Cody liked to drive fast. “I’m fine. For a while there I got tired easy, but I’m feeling good enough to think about taking the kids fishing up on the Little River.”

  The ancient Kiamichi Mountains were worn to nothing more than what could be truly called foothills. The rolling, heavily-timbered country was fractured with rocky streams full of smallmouthed bass and fat blue catfish.

  “You think that’s a good idea? There ain’t much up there north of Cloudy if y’all get into trouble.”

  “You took me up there from the time the top of my head reached your belt. Nobody’ll mess with me up in Oklahoma.” Cody steered into Neal’s bottlecap-paved parking lot. “I thought we’d do a little bank fishing in a couple of those holes you showed me.”

  “Well, it might be smart to stick close to the house for a while until we figure out who it was that took a shot at you.”

  No one was outside of the domino hall when they stepped out of the El Camino. Cody settled the Colt 1911 in the holster on his belt and trailed Ned up the three plank steps. The doors and windows were open to catch the breeze and everything inside seemed normal.

  To Cody’s knowledge, the building had never seen a coat of paint. Though nothing was, or had ever been, for sale inside, the exterior was colored with a variety of advertisements from RC and Double Colas to Ideal Bread. A vertical four-foot metal Orange Crush sign was nailed haphazardly on the west side, not particularly for advertisement, because the bottle itself had been discontinued forty years earlier, but to cover a large hole in the wall.

  Half-a-dozen discarded tables with mismatched chairs crowded the single twenty- by-twenty-foot room. A cold wood stove occupied one corner. Bare light bulbs dangled on frayed wires above each table. Three tables sat empty, with loose dominos scattered across the worn surfaces amid empty spit cans and ashtrays.

  The other three were in use by a dozen players, squinting at the dots through thick cigar and cigarette smoke. At the only table to the left of the door, and obviously drunk, Carl Gibbs sat beside a scraped and dented metal cooler. The last time Ned saw Carl, he was standing before Judge O.C. Rains that snowy day after Cody was ambushed.

  Carl cleared his throat and spat on the floor. “Who called the laws?”

  “Howdy, men.” Ned stepped onto the rough plank floor and as a courtesy, was careful not to stand directly behind any of the players.

  Cody rested one hip on an empty table near the door, tilted his Stetson back, and watched the play at Carl’s table.

  A domino slapped the scarred pine surface. “Dime.”

  Another slap. “Made a nickel.”

  The scorekeeper marked an X on his pad with a pencil sharpened with a pocket knife.

  Carl drained a Jax and pitched the empty can out of the open window behind him. He flipped open the lid of his metal cooler and fished around in the ice and water for a replacement.

  Cody leaned toward Ned in a stage whisper. “That’s what I call drinkin’ in public. You’d think he’d act right since he’s out on bond.”

  “We’re setting right here, Carl.”

  The drunk squinted at Ned. “I see all ya’ll.”

  The Parker men exchanged grins while the players laughed loud and long. The drunk’s smart response was the equivalent of drawing a line in the sand. At that point the only recourse was to take Carl in, but the mood was still light, and neither of the constables wanted to make more than the situation warranted.

  “This ish Oklahoma beer. You cain’t get drunk on three-two, besides, I bought it at your place, Cody.” Carl dug a church key out of his shirt pocket and levered two triangle-shaped holes in the top of the dripping can.

  Ned shot his nephew a disgusted look that spoke volumes. Instead of catching Ned’s eye, Cody kept his attention on Carl. The man had a nose like Jimmy Durante, and its size always fascinated Cody. “Why don’t we go outside and talk about this?”

  “Cain’t, we’re winning.” Carl tilted the freshly-opened can and sucked down half the contents in one long draught.

  “No y’ain’t.” Steve Perkins shook the rocks with a disgusted look on his face, shuffling them for the next draw. Somewhat of a dandy, Perkins lived alone in a tiny two-room house up behind the cotton gin and only worked when he needed money for groceries. You could tell it, too, from his smooth hands to hair slicked down with HA hair oil. “We ain’t won a hand since you cracked that first beer.”

  “Thass’cause you don’t shake ’em good enough.”

  “Come outside with me for a minute.” Ned motioned for Carl. “You’ve already been in jail for beatin’ on your wife a while back. Let’s talk about this so we can all go home.”

  “When I’m good and ready. Besides, she provoked me. She’ll do that y’know, provoke ya into almost anything.”

  The Parkers exchanged looks again. Along with his recent arrest for assault and battery, Carl’s admission guaranteed a conviction in the coming trial.

  Their conversation was interrupted by a Chevrolet sliding to an abrupt stop in the parking lot. Through the open door, Cody recognized the person who stepped out in a cloud of dust and slammed the door in fury. “Uh oh.”

  The men inside went completely silent when Carl’s wife, Tamara, stomped up the steps and blew into the room like a tiny Texas cyclone.

  “Careful,” Cody said. “She’s got her ears laid back. I believe she’s mad.”

  The players chuckled.

  Ignoring everyone else in the domino hall, Tamara waved a revolver at her husband. “Carl, you son of a bitch!”

  They reacted as if a mad bobcat had fallen through the roof. Cody would have preferred the bobcat. Chairs clattered on the pine floor as the lighthearted mood vanished and men scrambled out of the way. As if there was no one else in the domino hall, Tamara aimed her fury on her soon-to-be ex-husband. She didn’t notice the two constables nearby.

  With what appeared to be a practiced move, Cody casually reached out and stripped the gun away in one motion.

  Tamara yelped when the trigger guard scraped against her index finger. She glared around the dismal room, suddenly realizing there were others nearby.

  “You wait a minute, gal.” Ned stepped between the two. “We’re here to take care of your problem, so cool off.”

  Cody expertly popped the cylinder, sl
apped the ejection rod with his palm, and dumped the loads onto the floor. He pitched the empty revolver to Ned and walked around the table. “Tamara, you stand right there and don’t do or say nothin’ else. Stand up, Carl. I’m gonna put some cuffs on you so we can sort this out.”

  He fully intended to cuff Tamara also, for waving a pistol, but he wanted Carl out of the way first.

  “I ain’t a-goin’.”

  “Yes you are.”

  Tamara pointed a finger at Carl’s face. “Do what they say, you son of a bitch!”

  “You done said that, Tamara, now back off.” Ned knew they had to move quickly before things accelerated. “Stand up, Carl.”

  “Nossir.”

  Shouldering Tamara out of the way, Cody grabbed a handful of Carl’s grimy collar and yanked him to his feet. Carl swung an elbow back, catching the young deputy in the chest. Cody staggered back and regained his balance.

  Chairs skittered on the dirty floor as they scuffled back and forth. Cody didn’t want the arrest to turn into a fist fight, so he worked hard to get the drunk in a headlock. Terrified that Cody’d get hurt again so soon after getting out of the hospital, Ned kicked a table out of the way and grabbed Carl’s arm to twist it behind his back.

  Carl swung a fist at Ned, who ducked under the blow and pushed both struggling men against the wall. Planks cracked under the impact and metal signs on the outside rattled. The wall bowed outward, almost collapsing into the parking lot.

  “Owww! You’re tearing my ear off, Cody!”

  “Well, quit fighting.”

  “I ain’t fighting, I’m resisting arrest.”

  “Well, give up, you idiot.”

  “Let me go!”

  Finally getting a good grip on Carl’s head, Cody planted his feet, and with fresh leverage, banged the drunk’s head into the plank wall.

  “Owwww! You’re a-hurtin’ me, Cody!”

  “I’m about to hurt you worse if you don’t get them hands behind you!”

  Carl stomped Ned’s foot and he hopped backward with a curse. Before he could get back into the fray, Tamara leaped onto his back, nearly driving him to the ground.

  “What the hell!!!???”

  A banshee shriek nearly ruptured his eardrum. Ned reached back and grabbed a handful of curly brown hair. He yanked, and Tamara flew over his shoulder to land on her back with a dusty thump on the floor.

  “Girl, what the hell are you doing?”

  “You’re hurting my husband!”

  Ned suddenly found himself in the type of domestic argument that was often fatal to lawmen trying to help. “We ain’t hurtin’ him! We’re gonna take him to jail until he sobers up.”

  “Let him alone!”

  “He’s drunk! We’re taking him in, so you back away until we get the cuffs on him!”

  Ned spun back to the fight. Cody had Carl on the floor, one hand twisted behind his back, and cuffed his left arm with a ratcheting series of clicks. Ned hurried over to put his knee on Carl’s neck and grab his free arm.

  “Awww Ned! You’re breaking my neck!”

  “Quit fighting!”

  Ned twisted Carl’s stiff arm and he shrieked again. Before Cody could lock the cuff around the drunk’s other wrist, they were hit with what felt like a freight train as Tamara climbed on the table and leaped into the struggle. Ned staggered and Cody lost his hold on Carl’s arm. He landed on his back with a thud, but managed to use his knee to catch Tamara’s falling body as she rolled off Ned’s back a second time. With a grunt, he bucked and threw her halfway across the domino hall.

  Ned gave Carl’s cuffs one last squeeze, finally clicking them into place. Furious, Cody launched himself off the floor as Tamara roared back for a third round. He shoulder-blocked her, lifted the enraged little woman off the floor, and threw her onto the ground like a calf.

  Ned joined the battle, but it was like trying to hold a mad coon twisting inside its own skin. She squalled and bit him as he bent her arm back.

  “Let go, Cody. I got her!”

  For some reason, Cody didn’t release his grip on her other arm. Ned’s fear increased as she flailed around. This was the type of oddball fight that could reinjure Cody’s barely healed spine. “Turn loose. I got her. Make sure Carl stays down.”

  “I cain’t, Ned!”

  “I said turn her aloose!”

  Frustrated, Cody locked Tamara’s arm straight and twisted it around to show Ned the straight razor in her hand. “I told you, I can’t!”

  “Hang on to her, Cody! Hang on!”

  Like a rag doll, Tamara dropped to her knees and arched her back. Getting enough leverage, she threw her head back and busted Cody’s lip. Tired of trying not to hurt her, he grabbed her belt, lifted her completely into the air and slammed her face first onto the plank floor. The razor rattled across the boards and the fight was over.

  “Dammit woman, settle down!”

  Still face down on the floor, Carl shouted over his shoulder as Ned finished cuffing her free arm. “See! See! That’s why I had to use a singletree on her. Like I told O.C., the bitch’ll provoke ya!”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Tom Bell was standing beside his truck when Ned exploded through the door, pushing Carl ahead and ignoring his complaining.

  Tamara came boiling out behind them, cussing a blue streak and threatening her husband for getting her in trouble. Cody had a good grip on the cuffs behind her back and yanked her when she kicked sideways like a cow, trying to get in a good lick on Carl, but she missed.

  Cody kept her out of kicking distance, but he doubted Carl’d have felt it anyway, because by then the alcohol had kicked in and he was drunk as a skunk.

  They thundered down the steps. Tom Bell grinned up at them. Ned shoved Carl toward his car. “Howdy, Tom, you got here just in time.”

  “Seems like you Parkers are in some kind of trouble every time we run across one another.”

  Cody laughed. It was obvious he was having fun with the fight, though his shirttail was out and his face was flushed red. “This ain’t no trouble, a little family disagreement is all.”

  Tom crossed his arms and leaned back against the truck. “I ran out of nails and figured Neal might have a few that I could buy. Then the domino hall looked good to me and I decided I’d like to sit in on a game or two, but it don’t seem as friendly in here as Ned led me to believe.”

  Ned opened the back door of his sedan and threw Carl onto the seat. He slammed it and joined them. “This don’t happen too often. These two go at it pretty regular, but it usually ain’t up here by the store. Cody, you gonna stand there holding her all day?”

  “She needs to cool down for a few minutes.”

  “I’m all right now.” Tamara panted with exertion.

  “You say that, but your eyes tell me different.” Cody kept a tight grip on the cuffs.

  The fight finally hissed out of her all at once. Her knees trembled as the adrenaline wore off. “I have to sit down.”

  “All right. I’m gonna put you in my El Camino, but you behave yourself and sit there until I get in. I don’t want to rassle you anymore.”

  “I’m done.”

  Cody deposited her into the seat as his radio squawked to life. “Cody, you there?”

  He reached across the woman, who had suddenly begun to cry. Ignoring her tears, he stretched the cord across the cab, straightened up, and keyed the microphone. “Go ahead, Martha.”

  “Cody you holler at Ned and y’all run over to Floyd Lake. There’s been a drowning and someone there’s calling for y’all.”

  “That’s barely four miles out of Chisum. Who’s calling for a constable? I imagine the Sheriff’s Department or the police need to handle that’un.”

  “James Parker is there and asked for you.”

  Cody went cold. He knew James and Ida Be
lle had taken the kids to the town lake for a little fishing and a picnic. “Martha, you tell me the truth. Is it any of my family that drowned?”

  He released the talk button and Martha was already speaking. “Oh god, Cody, I didn’t mean to scare you. It ain’t your family, they’re all right. James saw the whole thing, and it was him called it in from the bathhouse. Your people are fine.”

  Cody put his head on the cab’s roof for a moment to collect himself. “All right, then. We’ll be right out.”

  He paused for a long moment. “Ned, we have to roll. There’s been a drowning and they’ve called for us.” He sighed. “Tamara, for shit’s sake, cool off and quit chewing on my microphone cord.”

  ***

  They arranged for John Washington to meet them at the turnoff to Lake Floyd to pick up Carl and Tamara. They’d switched cars and were in Ned’s sedan. Tamara rode in the front seat with him while Cody sat in the back with Carl. The precautions were unnecessary, though, because Carl passed out before they got on the highway, and Tamara wept for the entire drive.

  John was waiting at the rock sign beside the turnoff. “Floyd Lake” was carved deeply into a limestone slab quarried far from Lamar County. The only thing under their feet was sandstone and red clay.

  “You want me to follow y’all out there?” John agreed to take them to jail while the Parkers investigated the drowning.

  Floyd Lake was off limits to coloreds, and Ned knew the sight of John near the small lake might set off a firestorm with relatives who were already shocked and grieving over the drowning.

  “I don’t believe so.” Ned and John drug Carl’s limp weight out of the sedan and stuffed him into John’s car. Tamara wiped her face and slid in beside him, cradling his flopping head as much as she could with cuffs on. She wiped his hair and kissed his forehead.

  Ned shook his head in disgust. They’d be at it again before the week was out, and it’d probably happen in the middle of the night, interrupting his rest.

  The trouble on Floyd Lake started back in the winter of 1935 when the park was finished by the Civilian Conservation Corps. After completion of the 1,000-acre lake, the Corps wanted to transfer ownership to the state parks board, but a committee led by then Sheriff Delbert Poole refused to allow the transfer of the land, because the proposed swimming facilities under the state park service would be open to anyone—black, white, or red.