Free Parker's Folly by Doug L Hoffman Page B

smile.
    “We are still loading provisions and ancillary equipment, but the ship is capable of lifting off as we speak.” If it will only stop spewing radiation when it does, the Captain thought sourly. “Perhaps you should layout how you would like to film the news spot. I understand you are running up against deadlines of your own.”
    “Oh yes. Let's shoot it this way...”
     

The Ranch House, Parker Ranch, Texas.
    TK was “standing” in his wheelchair, gyroscopically balanced on two wheels, gazing out the front bay window. Two cars containing local sheriff’s deputies had just pulled up, one on either side of the KWTEX News van. He could also see the distinctive paint job of a Texas Highway Patrol cruiser bouncing its way down the long dirt driveway, leaving a noticeable dust plume to mark its passage.
    “Damn, it looks like I'm throwin' a party,” the old man said, turning to Maria, who was standing by his side. “Maria, you go back to the kitchen and stay out of the way. I don't want Johnny Law givin' you any trouble.”
    “No, Señor Parker! I will greet them at the door like all of your other guests. I ask them their business and check if you are available. That is, if they don't have a search warrant.” Maria knew about search warrants, her son was a lawyer.
    “Now don't be stubborn, woman. I don't want them hassling you or turnin' you over to Immigration.”
    “Do not worry Señor Parker, my citizenship papers are in order. You have been very good to my family—you hired me when my Juan died 20 years ago and paid for our children's educations. Thanks to you, my son Hernando is a lawyer in Austin and my daughter Consuela is a children's doctor in Little Rock. I will not abandon you now. Besides, I have learned much from you—I am an American, I don't take sheeet from nobody.” That last phrase delivered in an exaggerated Mexican accent.
    “Oh all right. I never could win an argument with you.” More than two decades ago, Maria's husband had worked on one of TK's first gas rigs. He died tragically in an accident, leaving Maria a  widow with two young children. The children had been born in the USA but Maria was not a citizen. Rather than see her deported, TK hired her as his cook and housekeeper, then helped her obtain legal resident status and eventually, citizenship. Under his gruff exterior TK was really just an old softie, at least when it came to people he liked. “Looks like there's more of 'em coming.”
    Three patrol cars were now parked around the news van and the sheriff’s cars, and a large van with “Mobile Crime Lab” on its side had just arrived. Dust was flying everywhere and the Highway Patrol officers were engaged in an animated conversation with the sheriff's deputies. “OK, Maria, I'm going to go back to my office. Greet them when they finally decide to come knock on the door. Bring 'em to my office and then take cover in the kitchen like I asked.”
    “Si, Señor Parker.”
    * * * * *
    When TK reached his office he called up a view of his driveway on his computer monitor. After he had become disabled he had an expensive security system installed. With it he could monitor things in all directions from his ranch house. As a self made man, he was not comfortable with having to rely on anyone. Maria was the sole exception, and he used the excuse that he was helping her, not the other way round.
    There were more dust plumes a half mile down the driveway, indicating that the parade of law enforcement vehicles was still growing. The crowd of police officers, deputies, highway patrolmen, and God knows what else continued to expand but no one had approached the house. They were obviously waiting on some one who had not yet arrived and that probably meant the Feds. That figures, the Federal Government was late for everything.
    When they do come, TK suddenly realized, they might just try an end run by sending a bunch of lawmen straight out to the hangar. He'd better call Jack and