THE COZY SPOT

Marvin  rigsby sat a dark booth in the back of the cozy spot bar. a half glass of beer set before him. the bubbles drifting to the top. he was alone and he  was scared. he was always scared when he had to meet the farmer. few people in the area knew the farmer as anything but a legitimate alphafa grower. but rigsby knew him for what he was. he was a cold, ruthless dealer in any all illegal scheme. drugs stolen property and  murder for hire. that was the worse of it. if you were in bed with the farmer there was always the possibility the farmer would kick you out of that bed, permanently.  the two mid after noon bar patrons at the bar sudenley got up and left. marvin looked up at the scraping of the stools as they headed for the door. as they went out the door the farmer came in. the bar tender shut the door and put a closed sighn in the window then went into the store room. marvin felt a cold hand grip his heart.
   the farmer was middle aged, five foot seven, dark complected and stocky. he was always dressed in a snap button shirt and levies with brogan shoes and a cheap straw hat. no one would know he owned the justice of the peace and two of the counties judges. his dark eyes were flat and emotionless. he might smile at you but he might be sticking a stiletto in your ribs at the same time. when ever meeting him marvin always had a sudden urge to pee. he had that urge now.
     the farmer slide into the seat opposite of marvin and smiled  wolfish smile. " whats a matter rigsby? you look sick"
    " ime ok" rigsby was looking at his beer. it didn't taste so good anymore.
   " you did ok. yesterday was a good haul. but did you have to shoot bender? the farmer was still smilling
   " I didn't shoot him . I didn't even know he was shot" rigsby was earnestly surprised
    the farmer was pleased  at the answer. rigsby didn't lie to him and .  the farmer knew who had pulled the trigger and  who had shot the papago desert wolf chief.
     " ok, there will be another drop in a week in the same spot. be sure your  there to get it. you screwed up letting the first one get away, don't screw up anymore, ya hear?"  the farmer was still smilling but rigsby knew the meaning of the statement. at least the backpack that the Indians got was off the table if not forgotten.
   the farmer pushed a manila envelope across the table at rigsby  and got up and walked back to the door, turned the closed sighn around  and went out. the bar tender materialized  from the back and it was business as usual. except rigsby still had to pee.  the manila envelope held a wad of money.  but that didn't stifle the urge.  being in close proximity with the farmer was like being in a hole with a den of rattle snakes. you knew you were  going to get bit, just didn't know when.