Story Grace, Mercy and Blessings

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PacNorWest

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#759

Woody hung around another hour. Clora was amused, Woody was pretty transparent in his desire to be at the meeting. Clora decided to throw him a lifeline.

"Woody, have Big and Tilly been removed from the retreat? Neither man will conduct business if they are present."

"No, I believe I missed that important point." Woody was speaking and reaching for his phone at the same time. He sat at the table and openly detailed his request to the advisor on the other end. There must have been some pushback, because the director has to raise his voice, and insist the couple be removed for the next 24 hours.

Mark got up to stretch his back, walk around the table. "I didn't think about them, I don't trust Big after the horse incident. He's made it non-verbally clear that he hates and distrusts me. He also has very dangerous skills that he keeps hidden. I judge him to be untrustworthy ."

Woody nodded as he stressed his orders over the phone. He finally barked angrily and demanded another associate.

"Sorry about that," he apologized, "I normally don't have problems. He's a new promotion, soon to be a demotion." Woody might appear folksy, but he was a D.C .director with a lot of clout.




Don slept the night through. He was happy to see the snow, it was a good measure to find tracks, if anyone was nosing around. The apartment was cold, the stove had gone out during the night. He scowled in the early light. Cold made him cranky, and he was hungry. He took care of the problem with a skillet full of potatoes and Spam. He ate it all, and washed it all down with a pot of coffee.

Scratching his chin, Don wondered about a shower or some sort of a wash-up. The cold house drastically altered his plans. A wash pan of water heating on the stove; seemed like a good solution.
 
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PacNorWest

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#760

Tyson barely kept himself in check. The electricity had gone out, most likely the result of the heavy, wet snow covering the mountains. No cell phone coverage and the landline that Orrie had was blanked out. A tree had likely fallen on the lines.

Tyson had reasonably suggested that Orrie might get his old International pickup out of the shed and take him to town to see the insurance adjustor, and Orrie had flatly refused.

Tyson felt like pitching a major meltdown, and every time he opened his mouth to wheedle and cajole, Flory cut him a dark, disgusted look. His only hope was to get Orrie away from Flory, as she was obviously creating a backbone in the old man.

No such luck. Orrie seemed to be fixated on the image of the new Ford with the shattered glass, and the snow filled interior. The wind picked up and it snowed harder.

"Ain't goin no where," Orrie finally tore his gaze from the Ford and went over to sit at the table. "If you wanna go to town, walk."

Tyson got freakin white hot furious in a split second. By God there was no way he was gonna walk to town in a blizzard. Rather than smack the old mas, as he wanted to do, Tyson stomped over to the door, grabbed his coat and slammed the kitchen door on the way out.

It took hours to retie the tarp in the wind, take a broom and sweep the snow out and clean the cab as well as possible. He had forgotten to take his rifle in, and it and the shot gun were covered in wet snow.

In an act of defiance, he took both weapons in the house and laid them on the table. He proceeded to wipe them down with one of Flory's embroided tea towels.

Tyson was smirking to himself, feeling that he had the upper hand in the situation. That was, until he felt the cold steel of Florie's butcher knife lay against his throat.

"Get your shit and get out," the old woman hissed in his ear. "Don't touch them guns, we don't care where you go, but you ain't welcome here no more."

Tyson's astonished eyes flew to Orrie, and the old man was nodding. "Yer done here, get gone."
 
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PacNorWest

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#761

"Right now?" Tyson stammered. "You mean go outside and walk to town, or try to drive? In this storm?"

"Yer shame-in us boy, we done took all we're gonna from yer scarin and trappin people. And I'll tell you this, if ole Bub dies on yer account, I'll come for you myself." This Orrie was a man Tyson hadn't experienced before.

Orrie had a backwoods reputation of being a hard nosed shine runner that had killed several lawmen. Nothing was ever pinned on him, but the whispers never quit. Tyson had heard the snide rumors, and disregarded them as fantasy. Now, he wasn't sure the whispers weren't true.

Flory tapped her knife against Tyson's neck, bringing him back to the present.

"I'm givin you 10 minutes to be gone," Orrie emphasized. "You can either sit there and piss and moan, or you can get yer trash together and leave with yer dry goods and groceries. My rifle and shot gun stay here." It was final and without question.

Tyson pushed Flory's hand away, "don't touch me, you old witch, I'll take that knife away from you and show you what it's intended to do."

Flory cackled in delight. "You've got 8 minutes." she reminded with a grin.

Tyson took the stairs two at a time, as Orrie called up, "7 minutes."

He grabbed boots two pairs of jeans , a shirt and stuffed them in a pillowcase. He'd be dammed if he would stay in this house one minute longer. He also intended to grab the rifle on his way out. Coming downstairs he could see both weapons were gone from the table. But the rifle was in Orrie's hands, and he looked real mean.

Tyson almost forgot to grab his wet coat from the peg, as he swished through the kitchen. He slammed the door behind himself, hard enough to crack the glass.

Both Orrie and Flory felt that was cheap enough to be rid of that pond scum.

Tyson took his knife and cut a small peep hole in the tarp, as he started the pickup and let the heater start pumping a small bit of comfort.

He finally made it to town and parked around back of the diner. Clayton's girlfriend Suz might be good for a free meal, if he schmoozed her right.
 
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PacNorWest

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#762

The group Woody sent to remove Big and Tilly from the retreat, ran into resistance, -- namely Big. Big was most annoyed and belligerent, not willing to voluntarily leave. He was finally arrested and the powers that be, detained him for 24 hours, the time Mark had requested.

Tilly was busy wringing her hands, her protests to the Sherrif's delegation. were a mixture of her Pennsylvania Dutch and Latino excitement, garbled and and spit rapid unintelligent noise. It was a dangerous free for all.

Finally the deputy arrested her, so they could haul her in, as they didn't know what else to do with the frightening apprition.. It was the most humiliating thing Tilly had ever experienced.

Tilly had trusted Big up to this point, and now, she was beginning to have serious doubts. Why he was being so stubborn, when they were only the hired couple. Big was being all dark and mysterious, and Tilly was more concerned about the baby, than Big's hurt feelings. She would have gone willingly, she wanted to visit the clinic and have the baby checked out.

Now, she sighed hard, she would be in jail. Sitting on her bunk in the small cell, Tilly thought hard about Mr. Mark and his no nonsense way of conducting business. Big had been on his case ever since Mr. Mark had sold the horses. That had been a puzzlement to Tilly, but Big refused to talk about it.
 
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PacNorWest

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#762b

Woody was finally forced to admit defeat. Mark was a master at out-waiting an opponent. Clora didn't say a word, just watched with her serious brown eyes, until Mark threw his gloves on the table and said "Alright, you win." and he went to find Woody.

The invitation to join them, was curt and reluctantly given. Woody accepted with a small hidden sigh of relief. He didn't want to pull rank on Mark, but the President had specifically ordered him to be there.

When the Ok came through that Big and Tilly had been removed, the three of them rode in Woody's chauffeured car to the retreat.

Clora stared in dismay at the destruction and havoc of her former home .Machinery with tracks had chewed up the graveled parking lot, the fences, garden spot, lawns and what had once been quiet and orderly. was destroyed.

"I'm not sure the prince is going to want this," Mark said flatly remarked. "This is disgusting at best."

Clora opted to stay in the car, while the two men walked over to the hole that exposed the cavern underneath.

"It's pretty stupid for the government not to have this at least fenced. What keeps curious people out of here? Somebody could really get hurt or killed.." Mark observed in disgust. "Since this property is back in my name, I have no intention of being sued. I wand Marshalls or National guard or some sort of police protection, There's no way I would let the prince walk into such a situation.."

Woody was actually appalled that the sight of the open crater. He walked off a ways to make a phone call. What ever he said, - or listened too- eased the worry lines on his face.

Because they were there early, the men went back to the car and sat and talked.

"If the prince chooses not to buy, the government will seal this top entrance; that's per very high assurances." Woody imparted.

Mark nodded and looked out the window. "Clora, do you want to go inside?"

"No, but thank you for offering. Mark, I have noticed a red light flickering over the barn door, Do you suppose someone is monitoring the area?"

That made Woody sit up and sputter "What?"

"We are having problems with someone trying to keep us under surveillance, so evidently it has evolved over to here."

"Huh, do you suppose it's that Wyatt fellow?"

Mark looked at Clora, and she shook her head no, she didn't feel like it was Wyatt.

In the well insulated car, the rotor wap of the incoming helocopters was felt more than heard. The prince was arriving on time.
 
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PacNorWest

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#763

The choppers landed, the usual search was silently accomplished. "We all three are armed, and will remain that way." Mark spoke up. "This is my boss, he is here as a spokesman for our President."

The young prince was accompanied by an older royal; very stern and almost angry acting.. Greetings were exchanged.

"Well American, what is your reason for calling us here?" The young royal challenged.


"I have finally obtained the deed to my property. If the Saudi's are still interested in buying the entire amount of land, it is to sale to you first." Picking up on the sneering disinterest displayed by the older man, Mark quietly added, :The developers are still willing to pay top dollar, but my price to you is still the same."

Intently watching the royals, Mark understood by the rigid body language, that there would be no sale, The prince's reasoning about coming was unclear, but the older man was clearly calling the shots.

"Go to the car," he told Clora and Woody in a low voice, "this is a no-go sitution that could fall apart at any second."

Woody wanted to protest, but a look from Clora stopped his voice. They went obediently to the car and settled in. "It's not going to happen, is it?" Woody finally said.

"No," was all Clora replied. They both watched as Mark stood silently in a circle with the young prince and his mentor.

"No American, we are not buying. The House of Saud has been exposed to ridicule by your government. We do not accept such actions."

"Fair enough, thank you for coming." Mark turned and walked to the car. It was a dangerous moment, Mark was relying on Clora to alert him, if the guards raised their guns. Mark got in the car and instructed the driver to turn around and drive out.

"Do it now, do it slow. If we give them time to start the helos, they will shoot at us in the swirling dust; claiming we fired first. Once you get to the road, I want this machine going 100, into the beltway. Do you understand?"

The driver nodded nervously and sedately left the gravel yard. Reaching the blacktop, he started accelerating. "Take the second exit, take a left under the freeway and stop under the overpass," Mark commanded. "Shut off the phones and GPS, then the motor. Then pray." he added soberly, "like your life depended on it."

They could hear the wap-wap of the choppers as they swept low over the increasing home bound traffic. There was a lot of horn blaring at the audacity of the choppers, but they moved on and left the car and it's occupants heaving huge sighs of relief.

Woody was the first to reach for his phone. "No Sir, ... no Sir, they refused, and will not lift the oil embargo. I will be back in the office in approximately five hours. We need to have a secure connection for the rest of our conversation."

Mark nodded his agreement, he wanted all of this problem to be on someone's shoulders, not his.

"We are close to Milo's place, you can drop us off there. Drive straight ahead, there is a right had curve and take the third road, take a right." He instructed the driver.

Honey and Mila were home, happy to see Granddad and Grandma.




Tyson brushed the snow off his coat, stomped the snow and mud off his feet, hitched up his pants and sauntered into the diner. The hum of conversation petered out the further he walked into the warm and steamy room.

The only available table was all the way to the end of the room. Tyson slid into a booth, and that was when he realized the back side of his jeans was sopping wet.

So much for his 'cool Fonzie' entrance. He was a man that looked like he had wet his pants. Tyson scooted all the way in the booth and pretended to read the fascinating menu. When Suz appeared, he pleaded his case for free food.

He got a glass of water.
 
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PacNorWest

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#764

Suz thumped the glass of water on the table, spilling a little bit. There was no menu, no invite to order on her dime. Suz turned her back and walked purposely down to where Joby was finishing his meal. For effect, Suz announced in a loud voice that carried all over the diner.

"You tell that skunk smellin scavenger Tyson he ain't welcome here without money. As a reminder, you tell that low down scum Clayton that if he ain't got money, to stay away until he gets a job. I ain't supportin the likes of him, or any other low down lazy bum."

Suz got a smattering of applause; neither Tyson or Clayton were liked. The scams they were pulling on people; infuriated the community, especially when the news about Bub and his heart problem were aired.

Because he was feeling tough, Joby drank the last of his coffee, threw his money on the table and started down the isle towards Tyson.

"Get up and get out; you're not wanted here. No money and trying to cage a meal makes you a vagrant. One nasty word out of you and you'll be bunkin with Clayton in jail."

That's how Tyson learned where Clayton was. "Wadda got him in jail for?"

"A long list of charges, besides the broken arm Clayton got when he tried to break and enter into Bub's place. The lady inside hit him with a baseball bat when he stuck his arm in the door and waved a pistol around. Guess he got a lesson. If Bub dies, I'm chargin you and Clayton with murder."

Tyson's jaw almost hit the floor, as he scooted out of the booth. "Huh, I ain't done nuthin to the old man." Tyson lied.

Joby placed his hand on his holstered side arm. "Move," he ordered, and pushed the strong, solid man toward the door. There were snickers at the backside wetness passed by the tables.

Tyson was fuming, ole Jobe was acting tough in front of all the patrons. Jobe would pay for embarrassing him, Tyson would see to that.

The city marshal grabbed his coat as they went out into the swirling snow. One look at Tyson's pickup and Jobe announced "defective equipment. You're going to jail. And that where they went.

Tyson wasn't upset at being in jail, he was in out of the storm, and they had to feed him. What was not to like.

Clayton wasn't much sociable, he turned his back on his friend and refused to speak.
 
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