The Payback Man (3 page)

“How many of those guys you think can pop a car lock and pick the lock on your cabinet within twenty seconds?”

“Probably all of them. The COs are supposed to keep that from happening.”

“Is the anxiety worth the money you’ll be making? Don’t try to tell me you’re not anxious.”

“Of course I’m anxious, but I’m also excited. It’s the first time since Jerry died that I’ve had the guts to try something new on my own. I don’t expect to do it for more than a couple of years. By that time I should have enough money to buy a partnership in a good practice somewhere, maybe even here, if you have room and I can afford the cost. I can’t go on working part-time forever. I have to build some sort of a life.”

“You picked one hell of a way to do it.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “Okay, but if I see a problem, I’ll let you know.”

“I would expect that. Thanks. You won’t be sorry.”

He stood up and pulled the top of his surgical greens down over his stomach. “Man, I’ve got to go on a diet. Margot feeds me too well. You have time to help me in surgery?”

“A couple of hours. What’ve you got?”

“Skin graft on that silky terrier that got burned. Floor furnaces should be outlawed.”

She followed him out of his office and down the hall, stopping at the storage cabinet to pick up a set of greens. Nancy Mayfield would have everything else ready, including the surgical packs. As she caught up to him at the door of the surgical theater, he asked, “What breed of cattle you getting?”

“Beefmaster.”

“Good God, woman, you pick the biggest breed of beef cattle in the world?”

“They want publicity, as well as a prize herd. J. K. Sanders and I figured Beefmaster would give them that.”

“You’re crazy.”

“You said that before.”

So far nobody except Sarah Scott’s new husband, Mark, who looked after the financial end of the clinic as part of his duties as CFO of Buchanan Enterprises, had encouraged her. He alone saw the financial gains she could make in a short time.

Anyone who thought bankruptcy was a quick and easy way to get out of paying bills had never tried it, but after Jerry’s death, there had been no other way out for Eleanor. Their practice had been liquidated to cover the cost of Jerry’s medical bills, but she had still felt like Sisyphus, sentenced to push a heavy rock to the top of a hill, only to have it slide back to the bottom again and again.

With the help of her friends at the clinic, she could pull off this new job. With Sarah pregnant, she’d have to shoulder more of the inevitable responsibilities at Creature Comfort. Good thing she’d gotten used to making do with little sleep during Jerry’s illness and after.

“M
AN
, I
DIDN’T TAKE THIS JOB
to shovel cow manure. I already broke two nails,” Sweet Daddy grumbled. Sweet Daddy worked hard to keep his small hands smooth, his fingernails long. One day shoveling aged cow manure from the old barn, unused for more than twenty years, would destroy his manicure and leave him with blisters.

“Shut up and shovel,” said Mike Newman, known to the inmates and the other COs as “Lard Ass Newman.” He was a bully and a sadist. If his authority was questioned or he felt any personal slight, payback was vicious. Steve had only come into contact with him a couple of times before today, but he’d been warned to avoid even a hint of arrogance.

“When’s this bitch coming?” Sweet Daddy asked.

“Use that word near her and you’ll be walking around with those pretty hands in casts,” Newman snarled.

“Might be worth it,” Sweet Daddy whispered. “Oooh-eee, what have we here? Yo, mama.” He grinned at something over Steve’s shoulder.

“Good morning, gentlemen. I am Dr. Eleanor Grayson. We’re going to be working together.”

Steve hadn’t been called a gentleman in years, and probably nobody had ever called any of the others gentlemen. He rested on the handle of his pitchfork and turned toward the voice. The others had stopped work, as well.

It was that woman he’d seen with the other one—the beautiful black woman who worked with the GED program—the day he arrived at the farm.

This woman was taller, with brown hair pulled back severely, revealing her strong bone structure. Almost no makeup. Oversize sweater and jeans.

Bet she thought that sweater would hide her womanly charms. Not from these guys. Three years without a woman gave a guy X-ray vision and one hell of a fantasy life.

Steve glanced at Sweet Daddy. The little man’s eyes were burning into her, stripping her in his mind with professional skill. From the way he licked his lips, Steve knew that he was assessing Dr. Grayson as if she were one of his women.

Steve loathed Sweet Daddy’s attitude toward women. He longed to smash the pimp’s face, but that would give Newman a chance to smash his in return, probably kick him off this team and maybe out of this facility. He concealed his anger and kept his face blank.

“At the moment there are only six of you on my team. I know you feel as though you are getting the dirty end, having to clean out this place, but I’ll be driving a tractor with a front loader and scraper blade for you. That should make things go smoother and faster. Also, when we do
need additional personnel, those of you who make the grade will remain as supervisors of the new people. You’re getting in on the ground floor, no pun intended. Tomorrow we’re bringing in painters and carpenters to repair everything that needs repairing. The plumbing and electricity have already been done, or redone. There’s hot water in the shower room and on the wash racks. Monday of next week I’m bringing in our first cows. Any questions so far?”

“Yeah.” Sweet Daddy raised his hand. Steve could already see the blisters on his palms beginning to pucker.

“Yes,
Doctor,
” Newman said with menace.

“Right, yeah. So,
Doctor,
do we get first choice on the steaks?”

Everybody but Newman laughed. He snarled and started to move forward. The vet stopped him.

“Good question. Not for a long time. It takes time to build a herd, especially a show herd like this one. But I promise you if you’re still here when we slaughter our first cow, you guys will definitely get steaks.”

Everybody cheered.

“Anybody here know how to ride a horse?”

Steve raised his hand. So did a couple of other men whose names he didn’t know.

“What kind?”

“Just horses,” Steve said. “Nothing special.” The last thing he wanted was for these guys to know he’d played polo.

One of the others admitted to riding horses as a child, and another had ridden occasionally many years earlier.

“Okay. The horses you will be riding—” she waited until they’d settled down “—are cutting horses. I guarantee they are smarter and can move faster on a cow than you can think. You
will
fall off. A lot. You’ll also learn how to take care of horses. That should give you a skill that will be readily usable in this area, given the number of horses we have and the lack of knowledgeable stable
help. You won’t be doing much riding until we get set up, and then just straightforward riding, and not much herding. Learning to stay on a cutting horse when he starts ducking from side to side to work a cow will take some time.”

She rubbed her hands together. “Now, how about we go over names? I have a list, but if I go strictly by that, I’ll never keep you straight. If you introduce yourselves, I probably won’t remember your name right away, but I’ll try. Let’s start with you.” She pointed to the giant. Steve had sat behind him on the bus and beside him at meals, but he had never heard him speak.

The big man hunched his shoulders and shook his head.

“I’ll start,” Steve said. The giant gave him a grateful look. “Steve Chadwick. I’m here for—”

“No. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know what you did. I only care what you do from this point on. Clear?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Clear.”

She nodded and pointed to the man at Steve’s left, instead of back to the giant, who stood at Steve’s right.

“Elroy Long, at your service. Call me Sweet Daddy.” The wiry little black man sketched a deep bow and grinned at her and then at the others. They snickered.

She moved on.

“Joseph Jasper, ma’am—uh, Doctor. They call me Slow Rise. I ain’t young, but I’m strong. Grew up on a farm. Worked cattle most of my life. Rode some years ago. Had my own place.”

“Wonderful.”

The fourth man was completely bald. Like the rest of them, he wore jeans and a work shirt, but all the visible skin, pate included, was covered with elaborate tattoos. Most were prison tattoos. Steve could tell from the black and blue ink and the lack of skill. Some, however, were colorful and beautifully done. A red-and-yellow dragon curled from the back of his right hand all the way up his arm, or at least as far as the rolled-up sleeve of his shirt allowed Steve to see.

“Gil Jones,” he said.

Steve thought he’d look more at home on a motorcycle.

Dr. Grayson waited, but Jones said nothing more.

Next to him stood a very young black man in a stocking cap. He was as tall as a basketball center but scrawny, as though the bone growth had outstripped his muscles. “Robert Dalrymple,” the boy said. His tone and expression were sulky.

She inclined her head and smiled at him. Newman growled in the background. “You rode horses?”

“My granddaddy had a couple of racking horses,” the kid said. “Ain’t been on no horse since.”

“Let’s hope the skill stayed with you.”

Finally she’d come back around to the giant. “You’re our last man,” she said with surprising gentleness. “What should I call you?”

He raised his head and glanced around at the others. “My name is Bigelow Little, ma’am.” He sighed. “See, folks call me Big.”

Sweet Daddy guffawed. “Big Little? Look at the size of him. Word up, man, you a freak.”

Big hunched his broad shoulders again and ducked his head between them like a turtle.

“That’s enough!” Dr. Grayson snapped. “Big, I’m glad to have you on this team. May I call you Big, too?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Newman snapped.

“It’s okay. When you work as hard as we’re going to work, we can’t stand on ceremony. Now, gentlemen, I’m going to go get the tractor, and we are going to clean out as much of this barn as we can manage before quitting time.”

For a civilian and a woman, Steve thought, she handled herself extremely well. She hadn’t allowed Newman to walk over her, and she’d shown real compassion toward Big Little, who was obviously used to being taunted. There hadn’t been a lot of kindness in Steve’s life these past
years, and he realized how much he missed it. And from a beautiful woman…

Allowing Dr. Grayson to become a distraction would be a mistake. He’d have to watch himself.

E
LEANOR WAS MILDLY ANNOYED
when she found that the men had to march all the way back to the mess hall for lunch. She decided to ask the warden if they could bring their lunches with them in future. Although the cows wouldn’t require a great deal of coddling, she’d need the men on site for as many hours as possible during the day if she was to teach them.

She drove to her cottage for a quick lunch, looked at the pile of packing boxes and the small empty rooms with dismay, and wound up eating her salami-and-cheese sandwich standing at the counter in the galley kitchen before she drove back to the barn.

The men had returned before her. Like soldiers detailed to dig latrines, they didn’t seem anxious to start without her. They lounged on the grass, enjoying the late-October weather. She heard Sweet Daddy groan as she got out of her truck, and she motioned him over to her. He smirked at the others and sauntered toward her truck.

“Move it!” the CO snapped. She knew from Precious that Newman had a reputation for sadism, and that his nickname was Lard Ass. She doubted he’d be pleased if she called him that.

Sweet Daddy’s saunter changed to a lope.

“Hold out your hands,” Eleanor said when he reached her.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I noticed you seemed to be having difficulty earlier. I don’t know how you’ve managed to avoid manual labor thus far in your sentence, but at the moment you’re courting a bad infection in those blisters. Possibly some of the rest of you are, as well. Mr. Newman, I believe I asked that these men be issued heavy leather work gloves.”

Every head turned toward the guard. For a moment he said nothing, simply glared at Eleanor with angry, piggy eyes. “Yeah. Some kind of mix-up.”

Eleanor inclined her head. “You don’t by any chance have the gloves with you, do you? It would certainly be easy to forget to give them out.”

Newman glared at her.

“Oh, well, I can call the supply office on my cell phone. No doubt they’ll issue the gloves in the morning,” Eleanor said. She kept her voice mild, but she could see Newman knew a threat when he heard one. She was furious with herself for not checking on the gloves earlier.

She also didn’t know why she guessed that Newman might have the gloves, but one look at his enraged face told her she was right. She had to fight to keep her eyes on his. He looked away first. Good thing. She was starting to shake.

“Yeah. Maybe I forgot I had ’em.”

“Perfectly understandable. But I’d appreciate your distributing them now. Elroy, let me clean those hands and put some bandages on them.”

“And I get to sit down, right?”

“No. You’ll be fine with gloves.”

She heard the snickers from the other men. Sweet Daddy curled his lip and threw her a glance of such malevolence that she stepped back a pace.

She treated his hands and watched as Newman gave him a pair of heavy gloves, which he pulled on with a grimace.

“Anybody else have bad blisters?” she asked. No one answered.

“Fine, then put on your gloves and let’s go back to work. I think we can finish cleaning out this muck before quitting time if we really try.” She knew she sounded like a schoolmarm with a bunch of kindergartners, but she couldn’t seem to strike the right note with them.

The way they watched her and moved around her reminded her of Rick Hazard’s remark about her whip and
chair. It was like being in the midst of a pride of lions. She had no way of knowing whether they’d had their fill of prey or not.