Fistful of Reefer

Fistful of Reefer: scene 49, 50 & 51

McCutchen cupped his hand over the phone’s receiver and swore. Ranger headquarters in Austin refused to send help. He was already making things up as he went. Now instead of helping they threatened to recall him. “Dammit, sir. I’m not tending to a pet project or wasting the department’s resources. This ain’t just about marihuana.” He decided to play his last card, knowing it could come back to bite him in the ass if he was wrong. “I have evidence of German interference and sabotage.”

A voice prattled on for quite some time from the other end of the receiver. McCutchen waited tensely. He had gone this far. “Yes, evidence. German weapons and written propaganda.” An accusatory question echoed from the other end. “Yes. In Texas. That’s what I’ve been saying.” McCutchen rubbed his forehead. “Three of the growers are meeting with someone else in the chain in Brackettville overnight. I need you to order the local law enforcement to at least help me contain them until morning.”

The irritation continued pouring from the earpiece until McCutchen interrupted. “Sir, it does make sense. Why wouldn’t the Germans want to disrupt the border? With America bearing down on them in Europe this could be their last chance to win the war. If our safety at home is threatened who the hell is gonna care about the damned Allies?”

It seemed the tide was shifting in his favor. “Yes, marihuana is that dangerous. I’ve seen it up close. It can wreck a man twice as fast as alcohol and turn him three times as evil. And I’m telling you, these men are bringing it to our homes whether we like it or not.” There was a silence on the other end. McCutchen looked around the Sheriff’s Office from his position against the far wall. It was the second to last place he wanted to have this conversation, but the only other phone in town was at the last place, the fort.

Finally concessions came from Austin. The captain agreed to send two men to Fredericksburg that night with orders to call the Brackettville Sheriff’s Office in the morning for current information. He also agreed to redirect two rangers assigned to Laredo who could be there in 24 hours. Most importantly he released the official order to apprehend the three fugitives using whatever local assistance deemed necessary. Eager to get off the phone, McCutchen thanked him and hung up.

The men coming from Laredo meant nothing. They would be too late to help. But the men heading to Fredericksburg, McCutchen could order them to continue on to Rocksprings and round up Bronco and his crew. He would make sure the crotchety old bastard got his comeuppance.

As he wondered where the attending deputy had gone off to another officer, whom McCutchen hadn’t heard enter the room, startled him. “Pardon me, ranger, uh…”

“McCutchen. J.T. McCutchen.” He strode forward to shake his hand. “And you are?”

“Deputy Lipscomb. Sorry, I couldn’t help overhear some of your conversation. What were you saying about the Germans? If you don’t mind me asking.”

McCutchen very much minded and didn’t want to waste any more time. But more importantly, he needed local cooperation. He stared at the man.

“I only ask because I’ve run across a couple of Huns on my own. Been working on a pet theory to answer some questions been nagging me.” He shrugged. “I thought maybe a ranger with experience along the border might be able to help.”

McCutchen nodded. “Tell you what, deputy. You help me find the sheriff and I’ll fill you in.”

McCutchen pulled off his boots, dropping them beside the bed. It had taken him another hour, but he’d finally forced the sheriff’s hand. With no shortage of grumbling, a dozen men took up watch for any sign of his fugitives, Lipscomb the only eager one of the bunch. Not to mention that by staking his reputation on a theory, McCutchen had gone all or nothing with ranger headquarters.