Back then, Asher’s high school sweetheart, Nora Borden, had been the anchor in his life. So, when Asher finally called, Jacob wasn’t surprised.
* * *
It was just after 8:00 p.m. and the Tumbleweed Bar was busy. An impromptu pool tournament was ongoing, and a college football game between Texas A&M and Oklahoma State University was airing live on TV. Between the crack of the balls, the cheers and jeers of the ones watching the game, and the customers coming and going, Jacob was in his element.
Jacob’s accountant, Lily Piper, a high school math teacher who moonlighted on the side as an accountant, had been by earlier to pick up last week’s receipts, and during a lull in the business, the subject of Pete Brandt’s death arose.
“Have you been bothered by any journalists?” she asked.
“Not really. A couple of random phone calls, but I just told them to get lost and hung up,” he said.
She shrugged. “I didn’t mean to pry, but I had to ask.”
“It’s fine. Everyone in Crossroads knows our story. It’s sure no secret, and thanks for the concern.”
Before he could say more, his phone rang. He started to let it go to voicemail, then saw Caller ID.
“Lily, it’s Ash. I need to take this,” he said and stepped into a hallway so he could hear a little better as she left the bar.
“Hey, son, what’s going on?” he said.
Ash chuckled. “Not nearly as much as what’s happening there. Lord! Can you hear me over the roar?”
Jacob laughed. “It’s Saturday night. College football and a snooker tournament I didn’t know was going to happen.”
“Ahhh, well that’s money in the bank, right?” Ash said.
“Yep. Is everything okay with you?”
“Yes, but I’m calling on behalf of your other sons, too. We assume you heard the news about Pete Brandt dying and all the media outlets digging up the gory details?”
“Yep. We all watched it together in the Tumbleweed, and then went back to business as usual,” Jacob said. “I’m fine. There’s nothing to talk about and nothing to dwell upon. Is Gunner okay with all that, though?”
Ash sighed. “You know Gunner. Hardcore to the max. If he’s bothered by anything, we’ll never know it. Don’t worry about him, Dad. He’s a big boy now. Just don’t be surprised if reporters come calling wanting to get a comment from you about Brandt’s demise.”
“I handled it before when it was messy as hell. This is nothing. Don’t worry about me, son. I’m good here.” Then there was a big roar back in the bar and Jacob sighed. “I gotta go. Texas A&M either scored, or they fumbled theball. Love you. Thanks for calling.”
“Sure thing,” Ash said as the call ended.
* * *
A couple of days later, a news crew from an Amarillo TV station arrived at the Tumbleweed and made a beeline for the man at the bar. The reporter was a woman, and the man with her had a camera on his shoulder.
Jacob looked up, cursed beneath his breath, and three cowboys at the bar turned around, saw what was happening, and got off their stools and stood in front of Jacob, like bodyguards.
“We don’t reckon you’re welcome here,” they said.
“Move aside please,” the lady said, and nodded to the man beside her, and when he swung up the camera, Jacob stepped out from behind the bar, tossed a bar towel over the lens, and gently took the mic from her hands and shook his head without saying a word, then pointed at the door.
Out. Now.He mouthed.
She frowned. “But we just—”
The cowboys were already escorting the cameraman out of the door when Jacob interrupted.
“Lady, you’re gonna miss your ride home.” Then he slipped his hand in the crook of her elbow, walked her to the door, handed the mic back to her, and shut the door behind her.
The three cowboys stayed on the porch until the news van drove away, and then walked back into the bar like they were arriving anew.
