by Homer Hickam
“I won’t leave this site,” Pick said.
“Suit yourself,” Jeanette replied, and that was that.
26
Ray, Jeanette, Amelia, and I hopped on our four-wheelers and the others followed in the trucks. The Square C had never seen such a sorry caravan as that which finally reached the turnaround in front of our barn. The four-wheelers and the trucks were coated with dried mud and so were their passengers. Soupy came running through the gate to sniff everybody and then jumped into Ray’s arms. It was quite the homecoming. While the women and Ray went inside the house, I sent Brian and Philip to my trailer to take showers while I had a talk with Delbert. Delbert was in the barn, cleaning the stalls and the horse tack. “Pretty quiet,” he said. “Cows are good, horses are good, Superdog is good, all is good, I reckon. I been spending some time just cleaning some things, greasing what needs to be greased. You keep a nice tight ranch here.”
“We do our best. You want a job, I’ve been thinking about quitting.”
Delbert laughed. “You leave the Square C, Mike? I don’t think so.”
This irritated me but I didn’t let it show. “Anybody been here to visit?”
Delbert rubbed his grizzled jaw, then said, “That fellow Cade Morgan was looking for Mrs. Coulter. I told ’em where she was. He didn’t say anything else. Just left.”
“Was he by himself?”
“Yep.” Delbert thought a bit more, then said, “T’other day, there was a funny car that came up and turned around. Big, black limousine-like thing. I came out of the barn but it never stopped. It just swung around and went back down to the road.”
“Could you see who was inside?”
“Nope. Had those tinted windows. License plate was Arizona.”
I had no way of calculating the odds of a lost Arizonan limo ending up on the Square C, or even the significance of it, but it added to my worry.
“Oh, Ted Brescoe and the mayor were out here, too.”
I was beginning to think maybe the entire county had visited us. I resisted being sarcastic toward Delbert about dribbling out the information. Instead, I asked, “Were they together? Ted and the mayor?”
“Yep. His truck. BLM, you know.”
I knew.
“You staying long?” Delbert asked and I told him the plan.
“OK. You care if I go help Buddy for a day or two? The fort’s held down pretty good here, I’d say.”
I agreed with that and told Delbert he could go but only for tomorrow. We’d leave plenty of food and water for Soupy and the horses but I didn’t like the idea of more than a day going by without someone here. Delbert said that was fine. I added, “Would you keep a radio on you, Delbert? With our ranch frequency? We might need to get in touch with you while we’re out there.”
“Sure thing,” Delbert said, then got in his truck and left while I considered what next to do.
What to do, I decided, was to visit Cade Morgan again, this time without knocking on his door. I pitched my backpack with the Glock into it on Bob’s front seat, climbed in, and took off. About a mile before I reached Cade’s ranch, I pulled off onto a side road, drove down it a little, then parked. I tucked the Glock in my belt, walked back out to Ranchers Road, listened for traffic, then ran across and climbed over Cade’s fence. I slipped through the wild grasses, circling around until I reached a small hill that overlooked Cade’s house. There was a black limo parked in the driveway along with Cade’s Mercedes. There was no movement outside or in and, though I waited and watched for a couple of hours, I didn’t see anyone.
I went back to Bob, put the Glock back into the backpack, and drove home. I went to my trailer and checked to see if the Marsh brothers were still there. They weren’t so I showered, got into some clean clothes, and sat on my veranda with a nice fresh g&t. Tanya soon joined me and I fixed her one, too. As the evening sun faded and the stars came out, nobody came to visit. It occurred to me this was by design. “I have some macaroni and cheese,” I told her. “And I can whip up some fresh biscuits with butter.”
“You know how to spoil a girl, mister,” she said and our evening was planned.
A gentleman does not kiss and tell but I guess it doesn’t matter now. There was some kissing and there was some telling each other how much we liked each other, and there was some bedspring bouncing and it was all really, really good. Tanya was an amazing lover. She made this old heart sing. I hope I provided some songs, too. Her lyrics, as I recall, were all vowels. That’s always a good sign.
The next morning, I was alone, Tanya slipping off in the night I guess to sleep on Jeanette’s living room floor. I rustled up some coffee, warmed up a few of last night’s biscuits, and had myself a nice little breakfast. Then I walked on up to the turnaround just like old times. Rage and Fury were there, each with a mouse dangling from their mouths. I praised them, then went inside the house where I found Ray and Tanya cooking breakfast. Tanya gave me the shy eye and I provided her with a grateful smile. If anyone was aware of our pleasant time together, nothing was said. After breakfast, everyone started to pack up to go back to Blackie Butte. Laura said, “I called Pick every hour on the hour last night but he didn’t answer.”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” I said. “There’s hills between us and Blackie Butte and the radios don’t reach out that far, anyway. But trying to check was a good idea.”
“Should I have checked on you, too?” she asked.
I smiled. “No. I was OK. Better than OK.”
“So I hear,” she said, returning my smile. “Well, maybe Tanya and I can draw straws again some time.”
I didn’t know what to say to that so I didn’t say anything, which was fine since Laura sashayed away. Dinosaur girls are pretty wonderful, all in all.
I next visited Jeanette, catching her feeding her bum calf. “I’m going to take Bob and go into town to see Ted and Edith,” I informed her. “They came out here to see us. I want to find out what they wanted.”
“Why don’t you just call them on the phone?”
“I need to buy some more rice and beans, too.”
She studied me, then shrugged. “All right, Mike. Whatever you think is best.”
It just popped out of me. “Jeanette, I’ve been thinking about going to work for the Parkers. You know, Mary and Wade. They always need a good hand.”
She studied me anew. “Whatever you think is best,” she said, again.
“I think that would be best.”
“Bill would have been disappointed,” she said, then turned on her heel and walked back to the house.
I swallowed hard, then climbed into Bob and headed to town. I found Mayor Brescoe in her office. She looked a little stressed when I walked in, then rallied with a smile and an outstretched hand across her desk. It felt really strange to shake the hand of a woman I’d once made love to but Edith was a politician and I guess that’s what politicians do. There are a couple of ways that can be taken, I suppose.
I sat. “You and Ted came out to see us. Anything you need?” I asked.
“Ted wanted to know the progress of the dig,” she answered. “BLM work, you know.”
“And you?”
“I wanted to know, too. If you’ve found something special, this could be big news for Fillmore County.”
I will confess it occurred to me at that moment that what I should do was to tell Edith, “Why, yes, Mayor. We’ve made a spectacular find. Please go forth and alert the national news media of this wonderful event so hundreds of reporters can descend on us, thus perhaps keeping the Russian mob away.” Foolishly, I didn’t. Instead, I said, “Well, we’re sweating a lot. And we almost got washed away by that storm a couple nights ago.”
“We wondered if that hit you,” Edith answered. “So, come on, Mike, you can tell me. What’s been found?”
“Maybe you should call Ted and have him come over so I can tell you both at the same time.”
“He’s gone to Billings,” she replied. “Come on, cowboy. Give.�
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I sat back in my chair and gave her a long Fillmore County stare. “Edith, are you mixed up in something?”
“Like what?”
“Like anything having to do with Cade Morgan.”
She licked her lips, then shook her head. “Honestly, Mike. You saw him touch my shoulder and you’ve blown that up in your head until it’s crazy. No, I’m not mixed up in anything with Cade Morgan.”
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely sure.”
The phone rang, as it always does in a politician’s office, so I took my leave. I went to the grocery store, got my rice and beans and a ribbon for Tanya’s hair—I know that’s an old west thing to do but I was feeling like an old westerner—and carried it all out to Bob. That was when it hit me. I would have smacked myself in the head had it not been for the rice, the beans, the ribbon, et al in my arms. I put the groceries in Bob and went off to make a call. Since the world had not ended, the Hell Creek Bar was open. I went inside and asked Joe if I could use his telephone. He allowed it, I dialed the number, waited until it was picked up and said, “This is Mike. Meet me at your gate in an hour. It’s about the IRS investigation.”
I thanked Joe, thought about a beer, thought it best to keep my head clear, then purchased a Rainier, anyway. It was hot outside and Bob didn’t have air conditioning. I drove up Ranchers Road, enjoying my beer, and stopped at the steel gate of the Haxby ranch. Sam, Carl, and Jack, leaning against a truck inside the gate, were waiting for me. I pulled into the entrance and the gate opened automatically but Sam motioned me to stop. “Get out and approach the gate,” he said.
I did as I was instructed. “Hidy boys,” I said.
Sam studied me. “What’s this about the IRS?”
I feigned ignorance, something I’m pretty good at. “IRS? Oh, you mean what I said to Jack? I told him ‘I are ess-tremely needin’ to talk to you.’”
The Haxbys were not amused. “You got ten seconds, maybe less,” Sam growled.
“All right,” I said. “I’ve been thinking about who killed Toby. You know, the big Russian guy out at the marina? I’m sure you know all about it. In fact, after I gave it some thought, it occurred to me there was only one man, or men in this case, who had not only motive but the balls to do it. That would be Sam Haxby and his boys.”
The Haxbys did not blink an eye. “That’s bullshit and you know it,” Jack said.
“Look, I’m not criticizing you. Somehow, you figured out he killed our bull and those cows and thought he had it coming. I happen to agree.”
Sam cocked his head. “You wearing a wire?” he asked.
I took off my shirt, throwing it onto Bob’s hood. “Does this look like I’m wearing a wire?”
“Take your hat off. Your pants, too.”
“Sam, nobody ever put a wire in a man’s hat or his pants.”
“Your underwear, too,” he said.
My purpose in all this was not to crack the case and send the Haxbys to jail. No, indeed. I just wanted to find out if my hunch was correct. I thought it over, then took off my boots, my pants, my underwear, and my hat in that order, putting them on Bob’s hood. This, as fortune would have it, was just as Flora Feldmark came trundling along in her old truck. She raised her hand to us and the Haxbys touched their hats. I just waved. Flora’s eyes went as wide as saucers but she kept going. I tell you, Whoever made this planet and put humans on it sure had a sense of humor and still does.
Anyway, I picked up my hat and used it to cover my privates. Not that I was shy, I just didn’t want to get little big Mike down there sunburned. “OK,” I said. “Clean as a whistle. So, how about it? When did you find out Toby was the killer of cows?”
“Hell, that’s news to me,” Sam said.
“Come on, Sam,” I wheedled. “Did he say something? Or did you see that Green Monkey Wrench Gang note in his pocket?”
Sam chewed that over, and said, “So you think we did it. Well, go right on thinking that, Mike. Guess it was a good thing it got done.”
“So you’re saying you did it?”
The Haxbys laughed, then, without another word, walked back to their truck. I guess one of them had the remote in his pocket because the gate started to close. Then they drove away. I watched the dust cloud of their truck rise behind them and considered what I’d just learned. They had confessed that they had killed Toby. Or had they? I turned around to get my clothes just as Flora came trundling back. She stopped her truck and rolled down the window. “Mike, you having some trouble?”
“Doctor says I have a Vitamin D deficiency, Flora.” I pointed abstractly at the sun.
“As much skin exposure as I can get, he says.”
“Oh,” she said, then turned around and headed back up the road. After I got back into my clothes, I went in the same direction.
I was surprised to see Pick’s truck in the turnaround. The only other two vehicles were my four-wheeler and Jeanette’s. I looked in the barn first, then went up to the house, knocked on the door and no one came to it so I let myself inside. I thought I heard someone talking and went into the kitchen but there was no one there. I went back into the living room and that’s when I heard Pick’s voice. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but it sounded vaguely urgent. I also realized it was coming from upstairs. Then I heard a groan but it wasn’t Pick. It was Jeanette. I almost tore up the stairs, thinking my worst nightmare had come true, that the Russian mob had arrived and were attacking Pick and Jeanette. But something stopped me. I realized the Russian mob wasn’t my worst nightmare, not by a country mile. My worst nightmare was happening upstairs in Jeanette’s bedroom. A few more vowels from Jeanette and Pick and everything was confirmed.
I went out on the porch, closing the door gently behind me, then I turned around and considered kicking it in. I must have turned around three or four times before I found myself through the yard gate and halfway down the road to my trailer. Once there, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I drank a glass of water, I turned the radio on, then off. I opened the refrigerator, then closed the door. I operated the microwave, just to hear its hum and the ding of its timer bell. None of that may make sense but when you’re crazy, what else are you going to do?
I sat down in my easy chair and looked at my watch. I tapped my boot on the floor. I got up and looked out the window. I went back through the routine I’d just accomplished. I was going to wait an hour. I made fifty-five minutes.
A lot can happen in fifty-five minutes. When I walked back to the turnaround, Pick’s truck was gone and, to my surprise, I found Jeanette with a cow in the holding pen. Seeing me approach, she said, “Oh, hi, Mike. That stupid Delbert. He brought this lady in to doctor her and then didn’t get around to it. Look at her. She’s got foot rot in her right hind leg. Come on. Help me get her into the surgery.”
Well, this was something of an emergency and I guessed my poor broken heart could wait. We pushed and prodded the limping cow into the surgery, then clamped her in the chute. “Get the antimicrobial salve, a syringe of penicillin, a bucket of water, and a sponge,” Jeanette ordered and I complied. When I brought them out, she took the salve and the bucket and said, “I’ll doctor the hoof, you give her the shot. You need the practice.”
I waited until Jeanette knelt to inspect the affected hoof and then jammed the needle into the cow’s shoulder. Hard. I mean really hard. The cow jumped while simultaneously providing Jeanette with a full blast of sick bovine poop in her face and hair. I would have laughed except then Jeanette would have thought I just did what I did on purpose. Which, of course, I had.
I pulled out the needle and peered around the cow to where Jeanette was kneeling and glaring at me through manure-coated eyelashes. “What’s wrong?” I asked, in all innocence.
“What do you think? Thanks to you, I’m covered in shit!”
This was very true so I had no comment.
“Why did you stick that cow while I was still down here? You know better than that.”
> “I apologize,” I said, flatly.
“That’s all you have to say?”
“That’s all I’m saying.”
She pondered me for a couple of long seconds and then I saw a little light register in her eyes. She asked, “When did you get back?”
“About an hour ago.”
“How was town?”
“Wonderful. How was fucking our favorite paleontologist?”
She didn’t skip a beat. “That’s none of your business.”
“You’re absolutely correct.”
She glared at me but then her features softened. “Mike, sometimes a heifer…” She hesitated. “Well, you know how a heifer sometimes…”
“Spare me, Jeanette. You’re not a heifer. I don’t know what you are.”
“All right, Mike. Sometimes an old cow sees the heifers, sees the young bulls going after them but not her, feels her insides all dried up. But then, somehow she catches a young bull’s eye. He looks at her and then he gets interested. He walks up next to her and the next thing she knows she…”
“Leave it to you to tell a story about screwing using cow euphemisms. My God, Jeanette. You are a piece of work.” I walked out of the surgery.
“Where are you going?”
“To kill Pick.”
“Why would you want to do that? I slept with him. What’s it to you? You slept with that Russian girl, didn’t you? And what’s that to me?”
I turned around. “What’s it to me? What’s it to you? I don’t know, Jeanette, except for this. I love you. I have always loved you. I loved you from the moment Bill first introduced me to you. Sometimes, when I’m around you, I think my heart is going to tear itself right out of my chest. When a day goes by and I don’t see you, I think my soul dies a little. If there wasn’t you, there wouldn’t be me. Not the same me. Some other me. Some sad, unhappy, poor in spirit, poor in life me.”
She glared at me, but then her eyes softened “I never knew,” she said.
