Momma, after exchanging another long glance with Kyle, rose from the table and headed for the door. Glancing out the window, Cuddy noticed a plume of dust approaching from the distance, and watched as a black and white police SUV turned onto their drive. Eventually rolling to a stop in the front yard, the car parked next to Momma’s old Maxima.
Cuddy rushed to his feet and hurried after his mother. Exiting through the screen door, he waved, “Hi, Officer Plumkin.”
Momma stood on the porch, wringing her hands in a dishtowel, as Officer Plumkin extricated his large bulk up and off the front seat of the police cruiser. Wrangling the gun belt that was out of position around his protruding belly, he tapped the brim of his cap. “Morning Cuddy… Mrs. Perkins.”
Kyle, followed by Rufus, came out too, and the screen door banged closed behind them. Officer Plumkin’s chin came up, and he warily eyed Kyle.
“When did you get out?” Plumkin asked, his smile faltering.
“Few days ago.”
Momma said, “That’s all behind him now. He’s been helping me around the ranch and with Cuddy.” She raised the dishtowel in the direction of her youngest son.
Plumkin’s mouth twisted into a snarl. “Make sure it stays that way, boy.”
Cuddy knew Kyle had spent time in jail, that he’d, again, stolen a car. Momma always said Kyle hung out with the wrong people. Officer Plumkin and Kyle were the same age, both twenty-two. They’d grown up together—went to the same high school. Cuddy didn’t understand why Officer Plumkin called his brother boy. Kyle didn’t like to be called boy.
“Stay out of trouble, Kyle. Nobody wants a repeat of past events.”
Kyle shrugged. “That’s not what your wife told me last night—after you fell asleep in your tighty-whiteys in front of the TV.”
Cuddy laughed at his brother’s comment.
“Knock it off, Kyle!” Momma said, giving him a serious glare.
Plumkin stared at Kyle for several long beats—then turned his attention to Cuddy. “Cuddy, I understand you had an altercation with some local fellas the other day.”
“What’s an altercation?”
Kyle said, “When those two guys beat you up, Cuddy.”
“Well, hold on there… that’s not exactly how I heard it,” Plumkin said, dramatically holding his palms up in mock surrender. “There’s a hurt young man with a broken nose. He’s pretty upset. Says he wants to press charges.”
“That’s bullshit… and you know it!” Kyle took a step forward on the porch.
Momma said, “Officer Plumkin, you know Cuddy. He’d never hurt nobody. Not ever. It just ain’t in him.”
“Not my call, ma’am. Tony Bone wants justice for what happened to his nose. Says it was a vicious attack.”
“Oh… come on! It was two against one,” Kyle said. “Two hoodlums against someone who can’t defend himself.”
Plumkin made an exaggerated expression of astonishment. “Have you looked at this bubba lately? What are you, boy… six two… six three? Two hundred… two twenty?” Plumkin continued on with, “Cuddy may have the small brain of an imbecile, but he’s a full grown man just the same.”
Kyle was off the porch in two strides, heading straight for Plumkin—his balled fist coming up fast. Startled, Plumkin took a stumbling step backward, his wide ass falling against the door of his cruiser as he fumbled for his pistol.
Momma yelled for Kyle to stop.
Kyle held up short—his fist raised and clenched. “Don’t do this, Plumkin. We were friends once. That should account for at least something.”
Plumkin, fingers working on the holster on his hip that held the unyielding pistol, nervously stared into Kyle’s face.
Holding his breath, Cuddy watched them, as they stood glaring at each other for several seconds. Finally, Officer Plumkin’s tense face slackened some. His shoulders lowered and his hands came away from his still-holstered weapon.
“You do know who Tony’s dad is, right?”
“Yeah, I’ve met the sheriff… a few times,” Kyle answered back sarcastically.
“And there’s more,” the portly policeman said.
“What… what else, Plumkin?” Momma asked.
Officer Plumkin’s eyes moved off Kyle to up on the porch. He gestured with his chin, and said, “Both boys say your dog attacked them. Said he was rabid… foaming at the mouth.”
Cuddy hurried over to Rufus then dropped to his side. Putting his arms around him, he said, “Mamma… they said he had the mange. That they were going to put him down. Then they kicked Rufus hard… in the side.”
Plumkin watched as Rufus relentlessly licked Cuddy’s face.
“Looks pretty rabid to me,” Kyle said sarcastically. “Maybe you should have brought some backup… for old Rufus.”
For the first time, Plumkin cracked a smile. “Let me see what I can do… about Cuddy. I’ll talk to the sheriff, but no promises. But if so ordered, sorry, I’ll be back to take him into custody.”
“Those boys were more like grown men… the ones who did this to my son and to his dog. It’s them you should be hauling off to jail,” Momma said angrily.
“Look, I don’t completely believe their story, but there’s still a procedure I have to follow. The sheriff’s looking for retribution for what happened to his son. For now… I do have to take the dog… it’s a formality. Let the vet check him out for rabies. He’ll be in quarantine for a few days… maybe a week.”
Cuddy didn’t know what quarantine meant. He didn’t like the thought of being away from Rufus for a whole week.
Officer Plumkin’s cap suddenly flipped high into the air, almost as if it had wings. Since there was no big gust of wind it was totally unexpected. Plumkin’s fumble to try to catch it made Cuddy laugh out loud. The cap landed on the top of the police SUV—well out of Officer Plumkin’s reach.
Chapter 7
Staying out of view, the alien, Tow, watched and listened from the barn’s open rear door. Some of what was being said he didn’t understand, but he was mesmerized by the course of events going on just the same. His suspicions about the one called Cuddy were now confirmed. He was a simpleton. A childlike mind in a grownup human’s body. The dark-haired male with the beard, wearing a green coat, was Kyle, his older brother. Apparently, Cuddy was attacked a few days before. From the looks of his face—the nearly closed right eye, the bulbously swollen lips, and the bandages—he’d been severely beaten. The uniformed, portly male Cuddy called Officer Plumkin seemed to hold some kind of power position. He mentioned two other humans. Tow suspected he knew who they were. The same ones he’d observed several days earlier, while walking along the tree line, sitting in the pickup truck. He didn’t like them then, and he liked them even less now. He watched as the uniformed male, wearing a weapon on his hip, opened the rear door of his vehicle. The brother named Kyle attached a long leash to the dog’s neck collar and led him up into the backseat. Tow watched as Cuddy become emotional, pleading for Officer Plumkin to reconsider—to let him keep his dog.
With the animal secured in the vehicle, the door closed, Officer Plumkin continued to speak to the three family members. Tow didn’t like the tone of Officer Plumkin’s voice. He’d known plenty of similar Pashier—windbags who liked to hear themselves talk.
Watching Cuddy’s face, Tow felt sympathy for the odd, childlike young man. He found himself getting angry—drawn into their situation. Cuddy had already been beaten and humiliated and now that fat savage was taking his dog away, too. Ignoring his own better judgment, Tow—with a casual wave of his hand—flipped Officer Plumkin’s cap away from the top of his head. Rising into the air, it landed atop the black and white vehicle. Officer Plumkin spun around, confronting the three onlookers and giving each an accusatory stare—perhaps thinking some kind of elaborate prank had been performed but unsure how that was even remotely possible. Flustered, he climbed into his vehicle and drove away.