Startled to hear his name, Delray Corbett turned and saw Jack walking toward him. Reluctantly, he came to his feet. He stood about five feet ten inches, a man in his midsixties, with a comfortable middle-aged softness around his waist, stocky legs, and a stern countenance. His displeasure upon seeing a stranger in his pasture was evident. Jack tried not to let the man’s frown discourage him.
“Mr. Corbett,” he said again, extending his hand. “Jack Sawyer.”
Markedly unrushed, Corbett removed his right glove and shook Jack’s hand in an obligatory way. From beneath the bill of his dozer cap he regarded Jack with unfriendly eyes.
Jack tipped his head toward the fence. “Heard some steers knocked down a section of your fence.”
“Where’d you hear that?”
“From your grandson.” He pointed to Corbett’s forearm, where a long nasty scratch was still bleeding slightly. “Catch some barbed wire?”
Corbett made a disinterested swipe at the scratch. “It’s nothing. Where did you run into my grandson?”
“Up at the house.”
“You tried to talk to them?” he asked angrily. “Damn it. I already told you people I don’t know anything. Leave us alone.”
“Pardon? Look, Mr. Corbett, I don’t know who you’re mistaking me for.”
That was a white lie. Delray Corbett would be among the first to be contacted about Carl Herbold’s prison break. Apparently law enforcement agencies had already been in touch with him. He was resentful of the intrusion. Or worried about the repercussions. Both were valid reactions.
“Whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong,” Jack assured him. “I only talked to your family because your daughter-in-law was having some trouble with her car.”
Corbett glanced toward the house with concern.
Jack said, “It didn’t amount to anything. Just some grit in the fuel-line filter. She’s on her way now.”
Corbett’s eyes moved back to him. “Nobody sent you?”
“No.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
Still wary, Corbett removed a handkerchief from the rear pocket of his jeans and took off his cap long enough to mop perspiration from his face. He had very dark hair, barely threaded with gray. “Did Anna give you something?”
Anna. Her name was Anna. Busy assimilating that information, Jack didn’t catch the rest of what Corbett had said. “Come again?”
“Did you come out here to get some money from me? For the time and trouble you spent fixing her car,” he added, when it became obvious that his meaning hadn’t clicked.
Jack replied with a terse “No, sir. I was glad to help her out. I came here to speak with you.”
Corbett’s guard went up again. “You selling something?”
“You could say so.”
“Well then you’ve wasted your time. I can’t think of a thing I need.”
“How about me?”
“Huh?”
“I need a job. You need a hand. My services are for sale.”
Corbett looked as though he were waiting for the punch line. Finally he said, “You’re serious?”
“As death and taxes. I could start right now by helping you string that fence.”
The rancher moved a few inches to his right, placing himself between Jack and the coiled strands of barbed wire, either to block them from Jack’s view or to protect them from his interference; Jack couldn’t tell. What was all too apparent was that Corbett didn’t take his proposal at face value.
He responded with chilly politeness. “I don’t think so, Mr. Sawyer. But thanks all the same.” He returned his handkerchief to his pocket and his cap to his head and his attention to his chore.
“You haven’t heard me out.”
“I don’t have a hand.”
“That’s obvious.” The remark brought him around again, as Jack had hoped it would. “No offense, Mr. Corbett, but your place needs some work. Looks to me like this whole fence needs replacing, not just this section. That entails digging holes, setting posts—”
“I know what it entails,” Corbett snapped.
“So you know it’s too much work for one man, especially when daily chores have to be done, too. Your barn door is loose. That trough in the horse corral is about to collapse, and two of the horses need shoeing. That’s just for starters. A place this size, it’s more than even two men could do efficiently.”
“My son and I held it together.”
“But he’s no longer around, right?” Corbett glared at him hard. Quietly Jack added, “The boy told me his daddy had died.”
“That’s right.” Corbett assumed a tight-lipped, stoic expression. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Mr. Sawyer, I’d like to get back to my work. I’m not hiring. You or anybody.”
Stalling, Jack looked down at the ground and dug a little trench in the dirt with the riding heel of his boot. He hadn’t known how he was going to approach Corbett. The idea of asking the man for a job hadn’t occurred to him until he heard himself proposing it. Now it seemed the logical course. Good thing he had observed and made subconscious mental notes of the needed repairs. If the ranch had been in tiptop shape, this would have been a tougher sale.
“I’d be willing to give you a hand with that fence anyway,” he offered. “No obligation.”
Corbett looked at him with irritation and seemed ready to order him off his property.
“I’m a good worker,” Jack said.
It was Corbett who finally relented with a shrug. “Suit yourself. Got some gloves?”
Jack removed a pair of leather work gloves from his hip pocket and approached the fence. “Want me to hold the post or wind the wire?”
Pride wouldn’t let Corbett do the easier job. “I’ll handle the wire.”
They worked in silence. Jack held the post in place while Corbett pulled and stretched the barbed wire taut around it, then nailed it into place. They moved to the next post. Then the next.
“How many acres have you got?”
“Six fifty. Just over a section.”
Jack whistled. “How long have you had the property?”
“All my life. I inherited it from my father.”
“How many head you run?”
“Several hundred.”
“Where are they now?”
“In another pasture. Across the river.”
“Herefords?”
“And a few Angus. Prime beef. The hell of it is…” He grunted with the effort of stretching the wire.
“Want me to do that?”
“I can get it.”
Jack noticed that the older man’s face was turning red from the effort, but he let it pass. “Hell of it is?” he prompted.
“Too many vegetarians these days.” He hammered the last nail into place.
“The scourge of a beef cattle rancher.” Jack let go of the cedar post, removed his hat, and fanned his face with it.
Corbett reached for a thermal jug that he’d previously stowed in the notch of a cottonwood tree. Before taking a drink himself, he offered it to Jack. “Go ahead,” Jack told him. Corbett drank directly from the spout, then handed the thermos to Jack.
“Where’d you get your experience?” Corbett asked, once again using his handkerchief to blot his face.
Jack recapped the thermos and put it back in the tree. “Everywhere.”
“You’ve worked ranches?”
“I’ve done a little of everything.”
“Then you must come with plenty of references.”
“No, sir. None.”
Corbett came as close to a smile as he ever got, Jack thought. “You’ve got gall, Mr. Sawyer. I’ll hand you that.”
“Call me Jack. Why do you say that?”
“You ask me for a job, but you have no references.”
“Guess you’ll just have to trust me.”
“Guess again,” Corbett returned curtly as he bent down to gather his tools. After neatly replacing them in a metal box, he came to his full height, retrieved his thermos, then faced Jack. “I appreciate you helping Anna with her car if it was giving her trouble. And thanks for your help with the fence. But I won’t be hiring you.”
As he headed across the pasture, Jack fell into step with him. “Mind if I ask why not?”
“No, I don’t mind you asking. And I don’t mind telling you. I don’t know you from Adam. You could rob me blind.”
“That would be pretty stupid. If I was going to do that, I wouldn’t have introduced myself first.”
“I’ve got David and Anna’s safety to think about.”
“Hiring me isn’t going to endanger you or them.”
“I don’t know that, do I?”
Jack placed his hand on the other man’s arm, halting him. Corbett glanced down at his hand and Jack immediately removed it. “All right, you don’t know me. I’m a stranger that dropped out of nowhere. Yesterday I left a job in Corpus. If you want a reference you can call my boss there.”
“How come you left?”
“I got ready to.”
“Just like that?”
“That’s the way I live.”
“Doesn’t make you sound very reliable, does it, Mr. Sawyer?”
He started moving again. Jack, undeterred, went with him. “As long as I’m here, I’ll give you a full day’s effort, every day. I have experience in all types of work because I’ve paid my way doing just about anything that was legal.
“I’ve been a short-order cook and a fishing guide. I’ve worked in oil fields and assembly plants. I’ve broken horses, milked goats, washed dishes, cleaned toilets, and once, when I was real hungry, I pimped for a five-dollar whore.”
Corbett stopped walking and turned to him.
“That’s right, Mr. Corbett, I’ve done a lot of things I’m not too proud of. Show me a man who hasn’t. But I swear to God there’s one thing I’m not, and that’s a thief. I won’t steal from you. And I would never hurt you, your daughter-in-law, or her boy. In fact, it might give you some peace of mind to have another man around, keeping an eye on the place.”
That was the ace that Jack had been waiting to play, and it worked. He had Corbett’s attention and could sense his resolve weakening. So it came as a mild surprise and a huge disappointment when Corbett shook his head no. “I’m sorry, Mr. Sawyer. The answer is still no.”
“What can I say that’ll change your mind?”
“Nothing. Fact is, I can’t afford you.”
Jack grinned. “Probably not. I’m fairly expensive. But I think we can work something out.”
“Like what?”
“I need a place to live.”
Corbett actually uttered a sound that could pass for a laugh. “You must think I’m crazy.”
“I’m not suggesting that you take me into your home. But what about that old trailer parked on the north side of the barn? I could bunk in it.”
Corbett glanced in that direction. “It hasn’t been used in years. My wife and I lived in it while we were building the house. We tore down the original, but wanted to build on the same site. That was almost forty years ago. I should’ve sold it to a salvage yard, but never could bring myself to. It’s probably falling apart.”
“Does it have water and electricity?”
“Hookups. The stove works on butane.”
“I’ll clean it out. It’ll suit me fine.” Corbett tested him with another long, measure-taking stare. Jack’s eyes didn’t flicker. He’d developed that knack by dealing blackjack in a Reno gambling hall. “Well, Mr. Corbett, what do you say?”