Circles in the Sand (18 page)

“Calm down, Basil,” Fritz said. “No use starting something over nothing.”

“Well, I ain’t thru with these candy-asses. Look at that box of rubbers. You know none of them got nuts enough to use em’!” Standing he leaned over the table to grab the rubbers.

Quick as a snake, Clint caught his hand and bent it back over his wrist. Standing, he released Tree back onto his chair.

“Oow, you son of a bitch! You hurt my gun hand. Yer just damned lucky I ain’t armed.”

“Knock it off, Tree.” Fritz said. “You were asking for it.”

Rubbing his wrist, Tree glowered at the two Airmen.
I’ll get you bastards sometime, somehow. Wait till I find one of you alone…and no Fritz to stop me. An’ you won’t be pretty when I’m through with you…Teach you a lesson with my scalpin’ knife…You cocksuckers! Meantime, how can I get his rifle to the law?

“And yeah, I know there’s a war on, and meat from my steers will help fight it. Can’t help, if I got no where to raise em. I expect this to end up in court, maybe even in the congress.”

“Well, us peons are just here doing our job. I reckon you will have to take your case elsewhere, because until we’re called off by the Air Force, we keep on building,” Clint said.

Fritz stood up. “We’ll see about that. Come on Basil.”

The airmen finished their beer and walked back to Clint’s truck. “I heard another threat in Fritz’s last words, didn’t you?” Lance said.

“Oh yeah. Fritz hasn’t begun to fight…Oh oh.” Clint stared a slashed rear tire. “Looks like the war is on. Bet that’s Tree’s handy work.”

“How do you know it wasn’t Fritz or at Fritz’s order.”

“Same thing. Let’s change it and get on back.”

Tuesday morning at breakfast, Clint told the troops about their trip to Glasgow. “Yes we did buy the supplies needed, however, to help maintain some order, they won’t be issued before the weekend.”

“Hey Sergeant Greybull, we paid in advance for those rubbers,” Kline said. “I think you ought to distribute them now.”

“That’s what you think hunh? I think that operating those two post-hole diggers most of the week, you won’t have any use for them before Saturday.”

On the passive resistance signal Kline had taught them, the troops groaned in unison.

“Okay, here’s the orders for the day. “Elsas and Priebe take the weapons carrier  to Ft. P and bring back the fire truck. Take along one of those empty drums and fill it with diesel. Lt. Byers said he’d drive the tractor but we need some fuel for it.”

“Hold on there, Clint. They won’t put diesel in a gas container.” Elsas said. “We’ll have to get new diesel drums.”  Clint nodded and gave him the thumbs up sign.

“Roger, now we got the right equipment, lets get back on that RADAR target. Use the deuce, the carryall and take Jewel, Hooper, Kline and Alcocke. Lance and I will take the Jeep/deuce and  Jeep to set up target number two. Seems it’s the most remote one from mysterious Indians, mysterious sheepherders, and mysterious ranchers. Any questions?”

Lance said, “How we gonna find that damn center?”

“Same as that exercise on target one. Take the truck, drive three miles north, then best you can, three miles west. In the Jeep, I’ll come up from the south road and see how close we come to each other. We may have to do it a couple of times for any accuracy.”

Each time they stopped, Clint and Lance planted a stake. They could see each other but were far apart. On the third try, Clint picked a spot he thought was in middle of the two vehicles, planted a stake and said, “This is it,  period.”

Lance drove the truck next to the Jeep. “You really think so, hunh?”

“You bet. I just made a senior NCO type command decision. Anyone doesn’t like this spot can go to hell.” He took a gallon of whitewash from the truck and copiously splashed it in a large circle around the stake. “Make it easier to spot next time.”

Then Clint broke off a piece of brush, and dipped the end in some of the wet whitewash, and painted a steak from the very top of one of the deuce wheels down toward the center.

“What did you do that for?”

“Improvising. That’s about all we can do, without proper tools, landmarks or boundaries. I figured out that every revolution of a deuce tire is about ten feet on the ground. We’ll slowly drive the deuce due west, while one of us counts the number of revolutions. So, when we hit five-hundred and twenty-eight, that’s where the center observation tower will be.”  When they got that count, Clint splashed white wash around the stake that Lance planted at that spot.

At the RADAR target site, the troops soon regretted the post-hole diggers had arrived. Even taking turns and swapping two pair of leather gloves, by lunch time they were shot. Post-hole diggers called for a different set off muscles than they used normally. The deeper the holes got, the harder the work became, and the less dirt they could haul up each time. Patton decided the troops need a long lunch period.

Nearing town they heard a clanging noise. Turning on to main street they spotted a shiny fire truck slowly driving while a pretty girl clanged the bell. Two other  pretty girls hung onto the fire truck and waved to the crowds. “I’ll be damned,” Kline said. “That garlic eating dago has beat us to all to them girls.”

“Calm down Kline,” Patton said. “They’re not fuckin’ any one while on that fire truck.”

“I suppose not. It just pisses me off. I don’t know why.”

Elsas drove back over to River Road to let the girls get off at the Boar Pen. Then he parked the fire truck at Gilman’s. Patton’s crew were ready for him. they walked by him in single file and each lightly punched him on the arm. “Hey, what’s this, a revolt of the have
nots!
” Elsas giggled and laughed at them. “I guess you guys know who has set himself up for first in line…come Saturday.
CUMM
Saturday that is!” They responded with their practiced groan.

Watching all this, both Dorris and Lorena wondered what was gong on. Dorris said to Clint. “That’s a pretty fire truck. But does it work like one?”

“How about that Elsas. We gonna be able to put out fires with it?”

“Should, if we have a water supply…or a bunch of fire extinguishers. Also works for spraying things like mosquitoes, but not for any thing thick like white wash.”

Beside him, Lorena said, “Sergeant Greybull. I don’t know what to think. Can those guys punch an NCO like that, without getting in trouble?”

He smiled gently and tried to catch her eyes. She wouldn’t look at him. “Not seriously. This is all in fun. Makes it easier to get along if we can kid each other…within reason. No real insults.”
Sergeant Greybull yet. Wonder how I’m going to get back in her good graces? At least, Dorris is talking to me some.

Patton took Clint aside, “Post hole diggers are better than shovels, but these guys are beat after half a days work, and progress is slow. Since we got cement, I cut hole depth back from three feet to thirty inches, but we only finished four.”

“Rats. We got a lot of holes to dig. What about even cuttin’ back to two foot holes?”

“I favor that. With cement, that should be deep enough.”

“Okay. Ease up on them this afternoon, but keep going. If we don’t they’ll all be stiff tomorrow, probably will be anyway. I’ll see if we can get some kind of auger.”

Byers was just finishing lunch. “Sir, if I can get an auger, can we run one off that tractor?”

“Yeah, should be a take-off drive on it. After I check it out, I’ll let you know.”

“We got one barrel of diesel. Ought to keep you busy for  a little while.”

“Don’t count on it. That’s a light tractor. Pushing that blade will put quite a load on it. Suggest you get a few more barrels of diesel.”

“Yes Sir.” Clint made a note of it.

Dorris said. “I saw you speak to Clint, but you never looked at him.”

“I can’t. I can’t. I’m just so embarrassed to be near him.”

“You couldn’t see that he was smiling at you, could you?”

Hope rose in Lorena’s eyes. “He did? Oh, good.  Maybe he’s not mad at me.”

“I doubt it. Just be normal and nice around him. Everything will be okay.”

Lorena was so happy she couldn’t be still. When she finally lit again, she said, “What about you and him, Mom? Are you going out with him again?”

Dorris’ face clouded up. “I don’t know. We haven’t had a chance to talk. I hope we’ll be going out again. But he and I need to have a long talk.”

Lorena looked pained again. “About me?”

Dorris hugged her. “No, not about you. About me…and him.”

“You didn’t pay attention to what that nasty Fritz Deutsh said about Clint did you?”

“Oh no. Fritz doesn’t have any influence over me.”

“So what is it you want to say to Clint about you and him?”

“Only that we can be friends again,” she lied.
I couldn’t possibly tell her any thing about sex between me and Clint. Or I should think…the lack of it. Darn. Have I turned into a sex pot?…Well, I’d like to
.

In Sheriff  Radecker’s office, Fritz Deutsch said, “I bumped into Sergeant Greybull again last night in Glasgow. He manages to piss me off every time I see him.”

“But nothing I can do about it, right?”

“Naw. I saw him drive down the runway and then stop that airplane. Ain’t there something illegal about that?”

“If there is, its not in the code book for West Layover, or even Valley County. Reckon you’d have to complain to the Federal Aviation Agency, if they’d even listen to you.”           

“Why wouldn’t they listen to a concerned citizen?”

“Probably because you weren’t on that airplane, and secondly because it was an Air Force plane. The pilot might complain to somebody in the Air Force, but I doubt he’d call the FAA.”

“Oh shit. So what’s going on with the investigation of that shot negra? Greybull mighta done that.”

“It’s a county mounty case. Haven’t heard anymore from them. Don’t think they’re pushing too hard. I’m surprised the FBI or some Air Force agency hasn’t been around.”

“I hear Greybull’s rifle is missing. Don’t that make him a suspect?”

“Where’d you hear that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. There’s been a lot of talk around. Even at church.”

“Yeah, I think Greybull was a suspect at first, but they didn’t haul him in. Was I to guess, guess, mind you, your boy Basil Tree is a more likely suspect.”

“Naw, he was out with the herd that night. Couldn’t have been him.”

“Yeah? But you couldn’t see him out there on the range, could you?”

“Naw, but if Basil done it, I’d know it,” Fritz lied.

Turning away from Fritz, Radecker, “humphed.”

“Well, that Greybull is a pain in the ass…believe he’s the key to that bomb site plan. If there’s a legal way to get him out of the way, things’d really slow down over there. Keep it in mind.”

“Oh yeah, sure Fritz.”
Wish he’d get the hell out of here.

“Reckon I need to talk to a lawyer.” Fritz left for Glasgow.

Jewel rested in the shade of the deuce. He watched Hooper and Alcocke struggling with post-hole diggers. Beside him Kline lay in the sand with his eyes shut. “Shoot, by Saturday night you guys’ll be too worn out to fuck any whores. That’s why I did it Monday night.”

Kline sat up. “You did what Monday night?”

“While you guys slopped up beer, I fucked Tawny.”

“Bull shit, Jewel. You’re full of it.”

“Oh yeah, if you ever get the chance, ask her. She won’t forget me.”

“Hey you guys. You hear what dingaling here said? He fucked Tawny.”

Alcocke leaned on the digger. “Oh sure, after that VD movie, and no rubber, he was fucking a whore. You’re full of crap, Jewel.”

“Don’t need a rubber if you’re careful. You guys didn’t see me leave before the rest of you, huh?”

“That’s right.” Sergeant Patton said. “When I left before you guys, Jewel was all ready gone.”

“I can’t believe it any way.” Kline said. “You got any proof, Jewel? Like a dose of clap?”

“No, no, no. Just forget about it. You’ll find out later.”

“Aw, baloney,” Kline said, and pitched a clod of dirt at Jewel.

Jewel brushed it aside and turned away from Kline. In a few minutes, Kline stretched out with his eyes shut and mouth open. Jewel picked up a handful of sand and dribbled some in Kline’s mouth. Kline leaped up and spat sand all over the place. He coughed and hawked to get rid of it. The other men stopped work and watched Kline. HO HO HO HUH HAHA! Jewel laughed like an idiot.

“You cocksucker!” Kline snarled as he leaped on a helplessly giggling Jewel, and having him down, punched him in the face. He was about to strike a squirming Jewel again when Sergeant Patton tore him away. “All right, you two clowns. Knock it off! And since you two got so much energy, you trade places with Hooper and Alcocke NOW!”

Grumbling, Kline took a digger from Alcocke. Unhurt and stifling his giggles, Jewel took the other digger from Hooper.

Sergeant Patton said, “Listen up you guys. There’s too much to be done for you jokers to be wasting your energy on nonsense. I won’t put up with it again…and you can damn sure bet there are worse things you could be doing…besides an early shift change. You got that right? Did you hear me?” They all nodded that they had.

Sitting in the shade of the truck, Hooper thought about Jewel’s boast. Had Jewel really had sex with Tawny? He pictured her in his mind. He removed her sun dress, then her bra. Was she wearing panties? He removed them and tried to picture her pussy. He’d never seen one. That picture faded and uncalled, Lieutenant Townsend’s face appeared. Was his crotch swelling?
Oh no
…He swiped a hand at his face to remove that vision.

“Hey, what’s the matter with you, Hooper?” Alcocke said.

“Nothing, nothing. I thought there was a fly on my face.”

Back at the bunkhouse on Fritz’s ranch, Basil Tree sat on his bunk, smoked a cigarette, and watched Herman Deutsche. A chubby boy with a soft featureless face, and the incipient look of a mentally challenged child, he wandered from window to window shooting his cap gun at imaginary enemies. “You really want to be a cowboy, don’t you, Herman?”

“Uhh…when Herman big man…Herman be cowboy.”