The Wrangler’s Treasure

Violent weather stampeded my deceased Uncle’s cattle and race horses. They quickly found holes in his ancient fences. March, in Oklahoma, doesn’t require much bad weather to raise hell and chaos unlike the rest of the country.

It was my job to keep the equipment, cows and horses safe until they could be sold next Friday. Today is Saturday. My last weekend as wrangler was already ruined.

As executor for my Uncle and Aunt’s will, my share was two grand for maintaining things until liquidation. My Uncle and Aunt knew I would follow their will and wishes to the letter. Sadly, my Aunt wished I would be the sole owner of it all paying off her children in the portions she and my Uncle allotted in their will. It was not going to happen. Next Friday, I would return to my meager lifestyle down the road five miles then turn to the right.

Most the horses and all of the cows were soon returned after a couple of beeps on the feed truck horn. Cows do not ignore cattle feed cubes and hay. Only Barbie was missing. It was already dark enough for headlights to corral the cows and horses. I would not go looking for her after dark. That was a risk not worth taking.

I set out the next morning a little after sunrise. I rode my ATV to within twenty yards of the county road that bordered the ranch. Eight feet of fence was completely down flat on the ground. A single horse’s hoof prints clearly evident in the soft turf. The tracks led me down a creek bank then turned under the bridge. There was no fence nor water gap to stop Barbie.

As I stretched the last fence wire I noticed tiny drops of blood on the ground. She was cut. A nick can be dangerous to a horse if a cut left unattended too long. Now came the ‘fun’ part, hunting Barbie.

I took off walking after her. The trail was too narrow for the ATV. I was certain she was well past the power lines following a deer trail up Gobblers Knob. Soon the trail became thicker with other fresh tracks. This was not good. A large number of hogs had turned to follow Barbie almost obscuring her tracks. They honed in on wounded prey like any predator if not more so. Their appetite for anything that walked on two or four legs put me on the menu too. The possibilities for survival were not looking good for Barbie and me.

I bolted up the path toward a loud noise. Barbie snorted and neighed at the wild pigs who squealed loudly. I knew it had to be her. The path broke left into a glen with good deep grass mixed with clover. Barbie raced around it kicking wildly and biting. One large boar cut her off her escape.

My Chickasaw life experiences now took over. I raced into the clearing yelling in war hoops mixed with loud “POWs”. I dropped my staff, I clapped my hands as loud as possible. The big boar swung around to confront me. He paused his attack when he heard me clapping. The other hogs disappeared into the brush at high speed. With the boar confused, Barbie did not miss the opportunity to attack. She gave him a fierce kick. Our teamwork paid off. The boar fled, squealing after his herd.

It was time to doctor her leg if she’d let me. Barbie was accustomed to being treated royally after a race. Today was no different. I examined her cuts closely. There were now two sets, two scrapes made by the fence, and one hog bite. The fence cuts were treatable with water, Neosporin and gauze. The hog bite would need stitches. Fortunately it didn’t appear deep enough for tendon tear or internal damage. It was a slash that would need a pressure bandage. Her temperature, pulse and respiration were returning to normal. That was a really good sign. Losing more blood from a deep wound required a Vet asap.

Barbie let me wash her gently with water from my canteen. When I applied some Neosporin + Pain, she flinched then tried to give me a bite. I anticipated her and stepped back to let her calm down again before applying the bandage. I started humming softly which got her pulse down again. Surprisingly the bandage was an easy wrap. It held up surprisingly.

A bright reflection from the tree-line got my attention. I tied Barbie to a tree that gave her ample grazing opportunities. I picked up my freshly cut staff and headed toward the source of light.

From forty yards it looked like a windmill vane hiding behind a large tree. When I got closer, I could see a fuselage of a small plane perpendicular to the ground suspended by strong branches.

The pilot thought the glen was an ideal landing spot for an engine stall. He didn’t expect his glide pattern falling short. This giant tree snared the small single seat plane easily.

The contents of the plane’s cabin littered the area around the tree. The pilot dumped belongings before exiting the plane. The pilot tried to climb down but fell. Bones were scattered with rags of clothing lay over a twenty meter area. It was not known if this was a woman or a man who piloted the plane.

This discovery was now a job for law enforcement. As I turned to walk away from the crash site, I noted a plastic sandwich size ziplock bag holding what appeared to be a little black book. As I reached over to pick it up, it occurred to me I was tampering with evidence. Upon turning over the book, a message on a yellow sticky note was taped to the other side. ‘To Whoever finds this book, please return it promptly to:

Mrs Renee De Pallus

15793 Covington Court

Highland Park, Texas 75209’

I tucked the notebook into my cargo pants pocket.

Holy Shiitake Mushroom, I had found Senator Joaquin ‘Jocko’ De Pallus’ plane. It had gone missing two years ago. Unsolved Mystery SOLVED by W. Easton Garrett, part time school bus driver, and substitute rural mail carrier. The W was for Wesley. Everyone called me Wes.

Barbie was in good spirits now with the pain medicine working. I called my best friend and Vet Raleigh Gibson. Everyone called him Rake for his high school baseball skills.

He picked it up on the third ring.

“Hey, what’s up?”.

I said,”Rake, Barbie is cut. She needs a stitch and an overnight stay at your place. Is that doable?”

Rake replied,”Sure, are you going to bring her or have you already sold the horse trailer?”

“Neither, she got out last night. I’m slow walking her down Gobblers Knob. Can you meet me at Salt Creek Bridge?”

Rake answered,”Sure, I’ll meet you on west side of the bridge.”

Rake was waiting as promised. He was astounded by my discovery.

He dropped me off with a curt,”I’ll call when I’m done with her. Have you got anybuyers? Uncle Bud never settled up his Vet bills.”

“How much does he owe you?”

Rake grimaced,”roughly fifty eight thousand. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Later.” Is all I could say. He followed me as I rode ATV until I turned on the ranch road.

I put the notebook on the kitchen table. It was a well worn Moleskine.

Decisions, decisions!

Should I tell the Sheriff or not about the notebook?

Should I read the notebook?

If I knew too much I could end up dead.

I called the Sheriff’s mobile number,“Hey, Sheriff.”

“What is it so important I need to know about it during supper?”

“Sheriff, I found Senator De Pallus’ plane crashed on Gobblers Knob.”

Dead silence for five seconds.

“How do you know it’s De Pallus?” the Sheriff stuttered.

“I watched him win a race in that plane on Sports Center highlights. That tail number 777 in burnt orange is unique. I’ll text you the lat and longitude.”

“Why were you up there?” He retorted.

“During Saturday’s storm one of my uncle’s horses ran away. She got cut and hog bit. I got her to Doc Rake in time.”

“You and Rake are the only ones who know about the crash?” The Sheriff was almost giddy.

“Correct. We prefer you get all the credit for it.”

“Did you take anything from the scene?” Came out like a threat more than a question.

“Nothing there belonged to me. You’ll see my tracks. It was muddy after the rain. I didn’t want to disturb the crash site. He was torn up by the animals pretty badly.”

“You sit tight until you hear from me. I’ll come by soon to get a written statement. Don’t come to the office, I’ll come to your place.”

“I’m here at Uncle Bud’s until his place sells”

“I’ll be talking with you soon.” He hung up.

I got to the Post Office when it opened the next morning. I almost decided to throw that book away. I mailed it to the return address.

I felt like breakfast at the Chuck Wagon Cafe. The cafe was packed with law enforcement, newspeople and National Guard. I settled for a green sauce burrito at the Quick Stop. I got their last one.

The state highway that led back to the ranch was bumper to bumper. I used some country roads that weren’t on any maps to get home. My evening was quiet except for talking with Rake about Barbie and the crash. Barbie was healing up nicely. I could come get her tomorrow.

The state highway was busy all evening till midnight. I guess the Sheriff had enough celebrities for one day. Gobblers Knob though two miles or more away was quite a light show. It looked like one solid string of lights that followed the deer trail to the cut in the hill where the power lines joined it. It occurred to me as I sipped a cold beer, Sheriff Polwell was charging admission. It was not the first time he sold access to major media outlets. My estimate was in excess of one hundred thousand at a minimum.

When I brought Barbie home for the next three days I had a parade visitors from FBI, NTSB, FAA and the media. They all wanted my story about the crash. The Attorney handling Uncle Bud’s will came by. He told me to be out by tomorrow. He had a single buyer for everything.

It was traumatic leaving the ranch. I was crushed.

A Cadillac SUV cruised up about an hour after the lawyer left. I was in no mood to meet the new owner. I opened the front door to a stunning black haired young woman in tight jeans, flannel shirt and a Texas Rangers baseball jacket.

She said,”Hi, are you Wes Garrett? I’m Renee De Pallus. May I come in?”

“Sure. Would you like something to drink?”

She replied,“Sweet tea will do if you have it.”

I poured us both a glass.

She began,“I came to personally thank you for saving me.”

I’m in shock,”How did I save you, Ms De Pallus?”

She looked down,’Call me Renee, please. My whole world went for sale when my husband disappeared. The Bank was foreclosing on my houseFriday.”

“I know the feeling. I’m out of here tomorrow.”

“No, I bought this ranch for you as a gift.”

“How?” I blurted.

“His offshore accounts hold billions listed with passwords in his Little Black Book.” She beamed.

“Would you like to stay for supper?” I stammered.

“Why yes, I brought steaks and champagne.

Rake told me a lot about you when I paid him.” She smiled.

‘