The Infant Carrier: Ray Corngrow Saga

THE INFANT CARRIER

A Collection of Short Stories:

Prequels to the Ray Corngrower Saga

By

Jessie Cox

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Table of Contents

Title Page

The Infant Carrier (Ray Corngrow Saga, #1)

License Notes

Chapter 1: Hilltop | An Early Winter Evening:

The Following Spring:

Chapter 2:  Littlefeather

Chapter 3: Sheriff Thomas

Chapter 4: Spavinaw

Chapter 5: Muskogee

Chapter 6: Boggy Creek

Chapter 7: Oologah

Chapter 8: Harvest Moon

Chapter 9: Bristow

Chapter 10: Guymon

Chapter 11: The Moondancer

Chapter 12: The Infant Carrier

About the Author

Discover Jessie Cox at online:

Website: http://www.authorjessiecox.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Jessie-Cox/246188712163261

Twitter: https://twitter.com/jessie_cox

Goodreads:

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6038855.Jessie_Cox

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©2012 Jessie Cox

License Notes

This work is protected under copyright. Any characters and /or events are purely the imagination of the author and any similarity to real people or events are unintentional.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient.  If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com to purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Chapter 1: Hilltop

Chapter 2: Littlefeather

Chapter 3: Sheriff Thomas

Chapter 4: Spavinaw

Chapter 5: Muskogee

Chapter 6: Boggy Creek

Chapter 7: Oologah

Chapter 8: Harvest Moon

Chapter 9: Bristow

Chapter 10: Guymon

Chapter 11: The Moondancer

Chapter 12: The Infant Carrier

Chapter 1: Hilltop

An Early Winter Evening:

The pond lay still in the chill of the evening.  The children who had sought relief from the blazing Oklahoma sun in the ponds tepid water were now trying to find relief from homework.  Frogs and turtle hibernated in the silt bottom and in the muddy banks beneath the frost line.  The insects of summer had long since perished and their young awaited the rebirth of life in the spring.  Nothing, besides a few hungry fish saw the body that was slipped beneath the surface in the deepest part of the pond.

The Following Spring:

Investigator Ted Watts of the Creek County Sheriff's Department arrived on the scene to find that a number of people had gathered.  In the hubbub of ambulance attendants, coroners and onlookers, he spotted Ray Corngrower talking to a couple of very frightened boys.  Ray was the Department liaison with the many Indians who lived in the county.  He was a full blood Creek Indian and though a kind and gentle man, his craggy stoic face suggested that his idea of a good time was toasting his enemies over a slow fire.  The two boys looked terrified.

What have you got, Ray?  Watts asked and slapped at a mosquito on his wrist.

Best as I can gather, these boys snuck in here to do a little fishing.  One of them got their hook snagged on something and dove in to free it.  Turns out, instead of a log he’d hooked a body.  Ray paused to smile at the boys before continuing, They ran home and told the folks. The parents called us and came back with them to wait. That’s their parents over there, the man in the red shirt and woman in the white shorts, he said as he nodded at the couple.

Ted looked at the two boys, who were pale beneath crops of raven wing colored hair.  You done with these two? he asked Ray while thinking the young one looks a lot like my son.

I think so, Ray replied and smiled, You can go home now, but don't miss any school.

After the boys had left with their parents, Ted and Ray walked over to the Coroner’s car.  Any ideas,  Sam? Ted asked the elderly man in the stained white lab coat.  Sam took the soggy cigar from his mouth, gave it a sour look, then said, You’d better look at the body and see what you make of this.  The three men went to the gurney and Sam pulled back the cover sheet.

Well I’ll be damned, said Ray. I’ve heard of this, but never thought I’d get a chance to see one this close. The body was of a young Indian male in his twenties. Beautifully beaded buckskins adorned the corpse.  Hell, he looks like he lived a hundred years ago, observed Ted.

Well he didn’t, countered Sam, the cold water preserved him well, but this is a very modern man.  You will notice the eyes are slightly bugged out, that’s because he has been shot in the head with a small caliber gun at very close range.  I’ll know more after I get him to the shop.

Ted turned to Ray, "What did you mean, when you said that you didn’t think you’d ever see one this close?

"There are many things about the red race that you don’t know, Whiteman.  One of which is ‘The Way’.  When a young man reaches a certain age, he has a choice to make.  He can either choose to follow the Whiteman’s path or he can give up all that is White and follow the path of his forefathers.  Should he choose the Whiteman’s path, he goes to school and acts like a White, if he chooses the path of his forefathers, he disappears into the hills and forests to live in a lodge, hunt with a bow, wear traditional buckskin and live off the land as his forefathers did.

Ted looked incredulous, You mean to tell me that there is a group of people out here, running around like savages and no one has stumbled across them?

No.  These are individuals, not a group.  They don’t live in a cluster, like white men.  They meet a few times a year for religious ceremonies, but other than that they stay apart except for an occasional visit. A main rule of their religious teachings is to avoid contact with the Whiteman. Besides, Ray said grinning, even Custer wouldn’t have found Indians, if the Indians hadn’t wanted to be found.

So how the hell do we investigate the death of someone who doesn’t officially exist?  Ted asked.

I’ll look around and do some talking, Ray said. "This guy has family somewhere and they are going to be angry about his murder.

Okay.  How about we meet at the county morgue in the morning, that way we can see what else Sam has for us and get a few pictures to show around? 

Yeah, that’s a good idea. Well I’ve got to go or I’ll miss the Indian Tacos Pearl has on special at the cafe, Ray said.

On the way home, Ray remembered the choice he had made and his reasons for choosing the White Way. Born the only child to a sharecropper, he had grown up poor. While there was never a hungry day, there were many times when the fish weren’t biting or the ammunition was too expensive and dinner was boiled cabbage one night and cabbage soup over buttered bread the next.  His father was a fine man when he wasn’t drinking, but could not refuse the lure of the bottle for any length of time.  His mother was a quiet kind woman, who found refuge in Christianity.  Ray had come to the realization that the kids in middle school had influenced his decision.  Their taunts about his clothes and the constant smell of wood smoke from the cook stove and fireplace his family used, that was so much a part of him, he didn’t notice.  Ray would sit in a number three washtub and scrub his skin raw trying to get the scent of smoke removed, but all in vain.

He started to avoid his classmates, preferring instead to spend his time in the woods alone. He discovered a Sacred Place atop a high sandstone cliff that overlooked the pastures and woods that bordered Skull Creek.  There, Brother Hawk guarded his days and Grandfather Owl, his nights.

It was there that he decided to follow the White Way with all its fine things. He started to attend a Baptist church and while the Reverend was genuinely happy to see him, the Reverend ’s wife would call Ray a stinking godless heathen when there was no other adults around, making him feel rejected by the white culture and ashamed to be involved with his own.

He steered his pickup into his rutted tree lined driveway and parked in front of his dilapidated mobile home.  Entering, he checked the phone for messages, gave the sink filled with dirty dishes a sour look and opened the refrigerator.  Two pieces of cold pizza would be a late night snack.  A beer accompanied him to the broken down recliner in front of the television.

The next morning Sam was almost finished when they arrived.  He waved them toward the coffeepot as he instructed his assistant to close the cadaver.  Then after removing the surgical gloves and washing his hands, he poured a cup for himself. 

Well, he began, it’s like I told you, the body had no water in the lungs, so he was dead before he was put in the pond.  The bullet entered the back of the skull at an angle and came to rest inside without exiting the cranium. That’s where I found it and though it’s mashed a bit, it looks like a .22 to me.  You’ll find it in the evidence bag when you get back to headquarters.  The deceased is about twenty years old and in better health other than being dead, than any of us could ever hope to be in.

Is there anything else? asked Ted.

"Nope.

"Did you send pictures with the evidence bag?

"Yes.

Okay Doc.  Thanks for your help.  Do you know that your coffee tastes like shit?

Sam looked at his cup, with a smirk said, Thank God. I thought I’d forgotten to wash my hands.

Back at the station, Ted and Ray went in to see Captain Abraham:

I want you two out talking to people.  Talk to tribal members, teachers at the Indian School, elders or anyone. Take the pictures of the deceased.  Someone will recognize him. We lucked out when this didn’t happen on the reservation.  At least we don’t have the FBI breathing down our necks.  However, I do want this case closed and pronto.

Overtime authorized? Ted asked. 

On our budget?  Abraham replied, Just be glad that you don’t have to sweep out the john.  Since the janitor got laid off, we’ve been having the drunk tank boys do it.

Outside the station Ted turned to Ray, So where do you want to start?

Ray shrugged as he replied, I thought I’d check a few private sources.

I guess that leaves me ‘Apache Wells’ to check first.  Do you think there’s anyone there at this time of morning?  Ted asked, Ray grinned as he walked away. 

After a thirty minute drive, Ted pulled up in the driveway of a dilapidated bar.  The windows that were not covered by plywood had aging neon beer signs in them. The door was sagging on its hinges, but the iron bar security door looked new.  Ted called his location in

to dispatch and waited their acknowledgment.  Then he went in.  The darkness enveloped him as he stepped into the rank smell of vomit and piss.  Once his eyes had adjusted, he saw the woman tending bar and one customer, sitting on a bar stool.

The customer, a man, was huge. His hair hung in two braids on either side of a face the size of a dartboard. His nose had been broken often and covered most of his upper lip. 

Ted walked up to the bar and waited for the barkeep to come over, the woman did not look at him, but was suddenly busy rearranging dead flies on the back counter with a dishrag.

Hey! Ted called and the monster on the barstool looked up. The barkeep started restocking beer in the cooler.  I’d like to talk to you, Ted told the barkeep.  The monster slowly lumbered to his feet.  The barkeep ignored him.  He was just about to announce that he was a policeman, when the monster spoke, Whiteman!  What are you doing here, little Whiteman?  Don ’t you have fine lounges that you can play in or maybe you just came here to see a real live Indian?

I’m looking for someone.  Maybe you’ve seen him, Ted said.

I ain’t seen nobody ‘cept you, little Whiteman! Now you just tell this bad Indian which arm you want .... HUH? The monster glanced over Ted’s shoulder, his eyes widened and then suddenly he beamed. Throwing his arm around Ted and spraying spit in his ear, he roared, "I like you Whiteman!

That’s nnnice, stammered an astonished Ted.  "You don’t happen to know the guy in this picture, do you?

The large man didn’t look, Never seen him before. Say, you ain’t married are you?  He asked.

No, why?  Ted asked.

Oh, ain’t no reason.  I was just curious. the large man replied.

Could we get the barkeep over here?  Maybe she will know this guy, Ted suggested.

Nah.  Millie don’t know nobody, do you Millie? roared the man.

Nobody. Millie agreed.

There is someone I want you to meet, Whiteman. Well, I’ll be damned.  Here she is now!  Winnie Crowfoot, meet... uh, uh.

Ted. Ted replied.

Yeah, Ted. Winnie here is my little sister.  Cute ain’t she?  The woman that Ted was looking at was a slightly smaller version of her brother.  After she had banished him back to his end of the bar so she and Ted could talk, Ted realized that she might have had a direct impact on the condition of her brother’s nose.

My brother is a real asshole, Winnie said as she sat down on the stool next to Ted.

Do you want something to drink? Ted asked, ignoring the statement.

It’s a little early for beer, she said, but I would like a cup of coffee.

I’ll have one too, Ted replied.  After the coffee came Ted showed her the picture. Do you know this man? he asked.

Maybe, why do you want to know? she asked.

I’m a cop. There has been a homicide and we need to identify the body. He replied.

How badly do you want to know, she asked with a grin.  Ted sighed and reached for his wallet, but Millie stopped him.  There is a movie at the Forum that I’ve been dying to see.  Ted blinked, Uh.. Okay.  How about Friday night?

That would be great. The man in the picture, I think his name is Little Elk.  I used to see him around, but that was some time ago.  I didn’t know him very well.

Thanks Winnie. Ted said as he tried to make his getaway.

I will see you on Friday, won’t I? Winnie stopped him with that question.

A promise is a promise.  I’ll meet you here at six, Ted said as he walked out the door.

As soon as Winnie heard his car pull from the parking lot, she pushed the untouched coffee away, Millie!  Bring me a beer. I’m celebrating today!

On the way back to town, Ted met Ray coming the other way.  Ted pulled off the road while Ray turned and pulled in behind him.  I was worried about you, Ray said as he slid into the seat beside Ted.  I thought maybe some bad Injun might have skinned you.

Not exactly, but thanks for the concern.  Ted answered.  I did get a line on the victim’s name.  A woman identified him as Little Elk.

A woman?  Ray asked, That wouldn’t be Winnie Crowfoot would it?  Did she get you to ask her out?

Ted nodded and looked embarrassed.

Oh boy, Whiteman, you are in for one wild time, Ray said with an evil grin.  I got the same name without endangering my virtue.  I even found his parents.  There is something-funny going on.  They don’t seem to be too upset about their boy being killed.  It’s like they just accepted the fact that he needed killing.

Ted was just about to reply, when the radio crackled, Car eight, dispatch.

Car eight, go ahead, Ted said into the mike.

Car eight return to station and see Captain Abraham.

"Car eight, ten-four.

I wonder what that’s about? Ray said.  Ted replied, Follow me in and we’ll both find out.

When they arrived at the station and entered the Captain’s office they found him leaned back in his chair with his feet on his desk.

The case is probably closed, he said. Murphy picked up a couple of pot growers.  I’ll bet that our victim stumbled across their patch, so they killed him.  If you two rake them over the coals a little, I ’m sure you will get a confession.

I don’t think so, Ray disagreed. I just came from the victim’s parents.  Apparently they knew about their son’s death.  They didn’t act surprised when I told them. By rights they should have been crazy with grief and anger, but they weren’t.

Captain Abraham looked irritated, Just go in and see what those two have to say.

Ted and Ray stood outside the two-way mirror and looked at the two men inside.

Divide and conquer? asked Ray.  Good cop, bad cop, affirmed Ted.  I’m the good cop this time, Ray smiled.  Ted said, Okay, so I’m the bad cop again.  We can read the arrest report, while the jailer takes the big one back to the holding block.

Once the two men were separated and the report read Ray and Ted entered the interrogation room.

Are you Bud Smith? Ted asked the man.

Yeah, the suspect said.

You are in a lot of trouble Bud, Ted replied. Have your rights been read to you?

Yeah, Bud answered.

Do you still want to talk to us? Ted asked.

Sure, why not? You got us red handed. Bud admitted.  We might get a year in jail at most and probation instead, most likely.

Well Bud, I’m Investigator Ted Watts and this is my partner Ray Corngrower.  As I said, you are in a lot of trouble. The charge is Murder One.

Murder One! Bud yelled.  How the hell can growing a little weed turn into a murder charge?  I didn’t kill anybody, I swear to Christ!

Ray’s lips curled into a sneer, "Give me a few minutes alone with this punk and he’ll talk!

Easy Ray, Ted soothed.  Maybe he doesn’t know anything about murder.  Maybe his partner did it.

Yeah, that’s it!  Maybe Jim did it! Bud said with relief.  He is always talking about how he’d off anyone who came too close to our patch.

I think it was you!  You little creep!  Ray roared.  Either you tell us the truth or I’ll twist it out of you!

Ted caught Ray by the arm, stopping his lunge toward the terrified Bud.  I think that you’d better go outside, while I talk with Bud alone.

Once Ray had closed the door, Ted sat down at the table across from Bud and took out cigarettes.  Here, he said, Have a smoke.  You have to forgive my partner.  He’s got a violent temper.  He shrugged, Must have been his rotten childhood.  Now tell me again about your partner killing that guy.

Bud took the light that Ted offered and leaned back in his chair, Yeah.  All you cops have had rotten childhoods. Christ man, I don’t know nothing about no murder.  If Jim killed someone he didn't ’t say squat to me and Jim ain’t that way.  He always wants people to think he is some kinda’ bad and if he had killed anyone, he probably would have reported it to the newspaper himself.  Ya gotta’ believe me, man.!  

Oh I believe you Bud, but you have to understand that right now you and Jim are our only suspects. That may change later on, but for now you two are tops on the shit list.  So unless you have anything else to tell me, I’m having you returned to your cell.  We will be talking to Jim next and probably you again later on.

When Ted left the interrogation room, he saw Amos Badwater walking away from where Ray was seated at his desk.

What did Amos want? Ted asked as he approached Ray.

Amos may have something for us, but he wants to trade information for an early release.  Ray answered.

Ted asked, "Thirty days for drunk and disorderly. He only has a