Generations in Agony...Texas: Chapter Thirty-two

32) A hasty town meeting…

“Meeting is called to order…” Acting mayor Milo Tuck struck his gavel on the folding table. “What’s all this new business?”

Angus Stump stood and wiped sweat from his brow. “I think we all know why we’re here.”

“I don’t see why we need to get all bent outta shape over this,” Kick Onyx pointed out. He sounded cool and calm and a third of the way down a bottle of scotch.

Angus fumed at Kick. “We all were involved in taking him down, Kick. He could be coming after you as much as he would anybody.”

“Yeah, but I ain’t his daddy,” Kick chuckled at his cousin.

“I have never claimed that he was my child,” Angus fired back. “Nor is there any proof of such.”

“He looks just like you, Angus,” Kick pushed a little harder. The two of them were constantly at one another.

“Not one of us here has even seen Tyrone in fifteen years. Who’s to say who he looks like?” Angus countered, albeit without much conviction.

“Where drifting off point here, fellas,” Milo interjected, holding his gavel loosely, while unscrewing and re-screwing the head from the handle. “I got better things to do if this is all we’re gonna accomplish here tonight.”

Caleb Morgansen sighed, having said nothing so far. He had a note pad open, ready to take the minutes again, should anything of consequence come up.

“We need to make preparations is all I’m saying,” Angus resumed the posture of a pasture in control of his congregation. “Maybe we should set up a line of communication, radios or some such thing as that.”

Kick chuckled. “This has got you sweating, don’t it, cuz?”

“I’m no more concerned than any of us should be.”

“Do we even know for sure if he’s headed this way,” Caleb asked.

The four men looked at each other. No one had an answer. Finally Milo shrugged. “I could have Henry monitor the state patrol bands, for all the good that’ll do.”

“We bought all them radio sets for the deputies,” Caleb said. “Couldn’t we pass them out to the fellas and anybody who spots him can call it in. That way we could at least know where he’s at and what he’s up to. Things go badly, we could all respond then.”

“Some of our deputies are getting a lil long in the tooth,” Milo pointed out. “I doubt that Dub Rollings or Finn Drylander have much chase left in ‘em.”

“That’s true,” Angus said, scratching as his scalp. “Those two are pushing ninety. They didn’t fare well on the last go round.”

“It has been fifteen years, Angus,” Milo said. “Look, I propose we use the radios. We got good men working the rigs out at the edge of town. Surely we can put a radio in the hands of one of the foremen and tell him to call it in when Tyrone is sighted.”

“Good idea,” Caleb said. “Then we can all set to watching him as he moves around town. Any idea where he might go to stay?”

They all looked at Angus who shrugged. “How am I to know that? If I was to guess, I’d say he’ll probably go to his momma’s place.”

“Makes sense,” Kick nodded.

“He never had any real friends, did he?” Caleb said. “Anybody he’d go hang out with?”

Both Kick and Milo answered at the same time: “Drum.”

“Great Elk? The tribal medicine man?” Angus looked confused.

Milo nodded. “They used to do a lil drinking together, on the reservation, of course.”

“Maybe we need to call Drum in, huh?” Caleb said. “He’d be an extra set of eyes, at least.”

“Worth a phone call, I guess,” Milo said, still playing with the gavel head. “How many radios do we have?”

~