Petrogypsies (8 page)

Him and Spanky stared at each other for a minute. “How much steel hose you got to spare on the rig, Spanky?” Pearl asked.

“Don’t know, but I can find out.” Ignoring the rest of us, they stood up and staggered together into the darkness toward Uncle Foots’ location. “We can flange up a bunch of connections if we need to use five-inch hose with three-inch, or whatever,” Spanky said. “The lease boundary’s about a hundred yards from Sprocket’s wellhead. We move you over to the edge, and—” Their figures had been fading out of sight, when Pearl suddenly swung about.

“Damn! I almost forgot.” He came back into the circle around the fire. “Y’all are a bunch of fine fellas, but I do believe somebody here is trying to keep my bottle.”

I tossed it to him. It was practically empty.

Doc and Razer and the rest of us were staring at him, glassy-eyed. He caught the bottle, then shook the capped end at Doc. “Big Red’s gonna run cement into your hole tomorrow. I was you, I’d get my butt in gear and hunt up some pipe to go with it.” Then he vanished into the darkness.

* * *

Doc let me go with him to the camp. Schooling up the worm. I suspected once I lost my wormhood I’d do more real work and less running around, so I was thinking on how I could remain incompetent as long as possible without nobody noticing. We rode off in Mooney’s pickup, which he’d let us have the use of as long as he was banged up in the infirmary.

The camp was quiet by the time we got in, around two in the morning. Lots of tents around, but not too many critters. Guess most of them were out on location. Doc cut the engine of the pickup right as we pulled off the Farm and Market, so as not to wake up anybody. We climbed out of the cab and threaded our way among the tents.

The casing crews pooled and coordinated their production, so we headed straight for the pipe rack, on the far side of the camp. The camp was dark, but a full moon was out, and for a change the weather was good, a few high clouds motionless in the sky, so we didn’t have much trouble finding our way.

When we got there, it looked deserted. Hundreds of casing joints of varying diameters were laid down, enclosed by a locked chain link fence. We climbed over it and started walking down the rows.

“Our last pipe was nine-and-five-eighths, down to fifteen thousand feet,” Doc reminded me quietly. “So we have to hang about four thousand feet of seven-inch or smaller pipe off its bottom. We need an API rating of N-80 or better. I’d prefer some C-95, myself. Keep a eye out for a stack of that.”

There didn’t seem to be too much small pipe in stock, but it wasn’t too long before we come up on a heap of just what we were looking for. The tag on the end of the center joint said the pile contained five thousand feet of pipe, and had been produced by a Casing Critter named Maniac.

“Looking good,” Doc said, as we climbed back over the fence. “Now we need to see what Casing Critters are in the camp. If there ain’t any, we’ll wake up Zeke and see who’s likely to be available next.”

“Unless Tiny’s got them sewed up, too,” I said.

“Don’t even think like that, Henry Lee. The son of a bitch can’t stay ahead of us
all
the way.”

There wasn’t a single Cementer, or a Mud Mixer, or, most importantly, a Casing Critter, around. We wandered around in the dark for a while, and then finally gave up.

Then we realized we didn’t know which tent Zeke slept in. We didn’t want to wake up anybody if it could be helped. So we wandered around the camp some more, hoping to find some structure with his name on it, or directions, or something.

After a useless half-hour of that, we were near the entrance to the camp. Doc leaned on the fender of Mr. Mooney’s pickup while he rolled a smoke and lit up.

“I give up, Henry Lee. Let’s go wake up somebody and find out where the hell Zeke hangs his hard hat.”

Right then, a Casing Critter came trundling up the road to the camp’s entrance. Doc yelped and jumped out in front of it, waving his arms and shouting. It spooked and jumped around some, but managed to restrain itself from stomping him into strawberry preserves.

After a few seconds, a couple of heads stuck out on top of the Casing Critter. “You hit another cow, Lady Jane?” A sleepy voice came from near the front. “You know the rule—you kill it, you eat it.”

“Star!” Doc shouted. “We’d like to do a little business!”

“Doc? We been up almost four days. Sabrina’s about in a coma. You come back tomorrow afternoon.”

“Can’t wait, honey. We’re in a bind. Lost circulation.”

Her face was silhouetted in the light thrown by the headlights of a pickup coming down the Farm and Market. Made my heart hurt.

“Aw, damn.” She turned to the others who’d woken. “Go back to bed, ladies. I’ll dicker us a deal and line up some transport for the casing. We all oughta be able to get a couple of hours sleep before we gotta set up.”

She slid down Lady Jane’s side and strode over to us. “Nothing personal, Doc, but this is gonna cost you.” She must have been real tired, because her zipper was zipped all the way up.

“Hi, Star,” I said.

“Howdy, Henry Lee,” she said, without any expression. “Now, about this deal, Doc.”

Doc opened his mouth just as the vehicle that had been coming down the road slowed and turned in. A shiny red pickup with a crew cab pulled around Lady Jane’s side. The brights were in our eyes. All I could see was three figures climbing out.

“When it rains it pours,” Doc muttered beside me.

Yeah, it was Tiny and his goons.

“Well, well!” Tiny said. “Looks like we got a party here. Mind if we invite ourselves?”

“Just doing some business,” Doc said.

“Me, too. I heard Lady Jane was done with that production string we sent her on, and come to put her on standby for another deal we got coming up.”

“We was here first, Tiny.” By this time, Tiny had come right up to us and was practically in Doc’s face. He was an inch or so taller than me, so he towered over Doc. His goons weren’t midgets either.

“Fine. I’ll do some business with you tonight, too. ’Less you still got your usual case of the yellows.”

“I’ll take you up after the well gets made, Tiny. We just come in to get a Casing Critter lined out.”

Tiny made his left hand into a fist. I tensed up, but Doc didn’t move. “Too bad.” Tiny cracked the knuckles on his left hand. “All the Casing Critters is on standby for Hydroco business.”

“Lady Jane ain’t on standby.” The interruption came from Star. She moved to try to step in between Doc and Tiny, but there wasn’t room. Tiny put a hand on her shoulder.

“You don’t do business with nobody but me, long as you’re in this field. I been giving Mooney and Doc enough rope to hang themselves, and now I got ’em by the short and curlies. Mooney’s hocked up to his eyebrows. In four days, his bank loan comes due. He ain’t gonna get an extension, and without a producing well, he won’t get no money anywhere else. Hydroco’s gonna buy the note.”

“Get your hand off me,” Star said.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Tiny growled. “You do business with Hydroco, you silly bitch!” He shook her roughly, and I launched myself at him. Doc blocked me before I could get to him.

“You keep those two idiots of his off me, Henry Lee. This ol’ boy here is mine.”

The next few minutes was kinda confused. I been fighting since about the time I could stand up to get knocked down. I grew up with four brothers, none of ’em angels. And there’s some rough boys lives back in the woods around Hemphill. For a couple of years, once I started getting my growth on me, it seemed like every one of them had to try a time or two to whittle me down to size after school. So I’d had some practice at this particular sport.

Most fellas lie when they tell about how they planned this strategy or made that smooth move or used a clever feint to sucker the guy they was fighting. Mostly all there is to it is moving as fast as you can, trying to hurt the other guy enough to stop him fighting, and in the meantime keep him from hurting you more than you can handle.

Practice helps, though. And I was glad to have had it. ’Cause this wasn’t no Marquis of Queensbury deal. It was the kind of fight that sometimes leaves people gimped for life, or maybe dead. If I’d have had time, I’d have been scared.

Both of them looked at Tiny. He nodded in my direction, and, flat-footed, launched a kick at Doc’s crotch. I saw Doc move back enough for it to miss, then I had problems of my own.

The first one to arrive got a fist in the face, then the other one was on me, ramming his shoulder hard into my chest. I staggered back, off balance, and he followed me. He got a knee in his belly when he closed again. Then the other one tackled me, and we all ended up scrambling around in the dirt.

I was not winning, truth to tell, until one of them quit strangling me long enough to scream. He twisted aside, trying to pull away the clawed hands of the long-haired angel that was ripping his face to ribbons. I still had a hand clutching the shirtfront of the one that was sitting on my chest. Star’s help gave me the time to use that hand to yank his face close so I could pulverize it some with the other hand.

About the time he lost interest in his part of the fight, the first one was on me again. What I could see of his face as it twisted in and out of shadow didn’t look too good.

After he got my elbow in the throat a couple of seconds later, it looked worse. He started choking and coughing, so I punched him a half a dozen times in the short ribs to clear any obstructions. He started throwing up, so I let him go. The other one was lying nearby. When I poked him with the tip of my steel-toed boots he didn’t move, so I relaxed enough to look around.

Casing gypsies were starting to slide down Lady Jane’s side. Star sat up a few yards away, holding her jaw. I crawled toward her. “You okay?” I called out. “Thanks for keeping ’em from killing me.”

She moved her jaw with her hand, testing to see if anything was broke, I guess. “Wanted the pleasure myself.”

“Aww, Star, I’m sorry as all get-out.”

“You hurt my feelings something terrible, Henry Lee.”

“Last thing I ever want to do is hurt you.” I put my hand on her knee. “I got scared. I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about me after. I didn’t just want a one-night stand.” I hung my head.

The hand that wasn’t still holding her jaw moved to cover mine. Her fingertips gently scratched my wrist. “Me neither, Henry Lee.”

Our big reunion scene was interrupted by a couple of casing gypsies moving in to check out our health, and by Doc and Tiny shuffling back into sight around Lady Jane’s side. Both of them was throwing punches, with Doc backing away from Tiny’s longer reach, then stepping up quick to get his licks in.

“Want a little help, Doc?” I called out.

He blocked a punch with his forearm, then backpedaled rapidly out of Tiny’s reach. He looked at me. “You done entertaining Tiny’s boys, huh?” He laughed. “Guess I better finish off this pus-bucket, too. We got some casing to set.”

Tiny roared and charged him, which I believe is just what Doc wanted. Tiny bear-hugged him up into the air. Doc snapped his forehead into Tiny’s face. Broke Tiny’s nose, I imagine. When Tiny’s grip loosened from the pain, Doc wrapped his hands around Tiny’s neck and start throttling him. At the same time, he was giving Tiny the knee where it hurt most. Tiny started driving punches into Doc’s ribs, but Doc ignored them.

Then Tiny wrapped his own hands around Doc’s throat. They stood in place that way, bathed in the headlights of Tiny’s pickup, straining and grunting, each doing his best to throttle the other.

It seemed to go on for hours, but it couldn’t have been more than a minute. Slowly, gradually, Tiny started to buckle. When he was on his knees, Doc brought a knee into his chest.

“That was for hurting Mooney.”

He shrugged Tiny’s hands off and dragged him over to prop him against the grill of the pickup.

“And this is for killing Cutbait Benton.” He said it in that same dead voice I’d heard twice before.

Then he started to punish Tiny.

It wasn’t my right to stop him, but the sounds of it made me sick after awhile, so I came up behind him and pulled him away.

* * *

The whole camp was up by the time Tiny’s goons got well enough to load Tiny into the bed of the pickup and head back toward some serious medical attention in Notrees. Doc and me were sitting on the tailgate of Mooney’s pickup, passing a bottle of our own medicine back and forth, when Star approached with Zeke, both of them looking upset.

“We got a problem,” Star said. “Tell him, Zeke.”

“I can’t sell you no casing,” Zeke said. “Tiny bought everything we got in stock that’s smaller than nine-and-five-eighths. I should have figured something funny was going on, but he offered thirty percent above book. I’m sorry, Doc. We shook hands on it.”

Doc just sighed. “I wouldn’t ask you to go back on a handshake, Zeke.”

“Star tells me Lady Jane was already working on some five-and-a-half-inch pipe on the way in. I could get the word out to the rest of the Casing Critters in the field and have a string ready for you in five or six days.”

“Ain’t no other pipe around?”

Zeke shook his head.