by Frank Hayes
“Here, this will help.” She raised his head so that she could reach his wound. He felt the sharp sensation of cold. A sigh escaped his lips. She took the cloth away, then replaced it with another. For the next few minutes, she kept repeating the process until at last the constant throb started to ebb. His vision became clearer. He saw Charlie sitting kind of slumped in a chair a few feet away. Then another figure overarching Marian as she knelt by his side.
“That’s enough. You’re wasting your time. It’s not going to make much difference anyway. Get up.”
Marian, with the bowl and cloths in her hand, rose in response to the command. The unfamiliar voice continued.
“So you’re the sheriff I’ve heard so much about. Can say one thing for you, you got a hard head. You were only out for ten or fifteen minutes. Thought you’d be gone much longer.” When he stopped talking, he reached down, roughly grabbing Virgil, dragging him to his feet. Then he literally threw him into a chair close by where Charlie sat. “What are you doing here?” Virgil looked up into the face he’d seen only in passing earlier in the day.
“So you’re Calvin. Calvin Thompson. Out of the shadows, finally.”
“You didn’t answer my question, lawman. What are you doing here?”
“I came for you, Calvin. I came for you.”
There was a momentary silence, then a sneer crossed Calvin’s face. It was followed by the laugh of a madman.
“Well, you got me, but guess that’s in reverse order. I got you.” Another crazed, hollow laugh followed. “You’re making my job a little harder.”
“Oh, I don’t know. You seem to be enjoying yourself. From what I know, you’ve been practicing for something like this for quite a while.”
“What do you know?”
“Oh, it took me some time to put all the pieces together, but I think I’ve got it mostly figured out.”
Virgil inadvertently glanced at Marian when he saw her move in back of Calvin. Calvin caught his misstep and swung around as Marian raised her arm. He grabbed her wrist, then smashed her in the face with a gun, which Virgil recognized only at the moment as his own. His hand automatically slipped to his empty holster as he saw the knife Marian held clatter harmlessly to the floor. He saw her reel back from the blow, grabbing for the table in back of her as blood gushed from her nose.
“Thanks for the heads-up, Sheriff. My sister almost got me.”
Virgil tried getting to his feet. The room started spinning. “I’m sorry, Marian.”
She had managed to steady herself on the table. Then she grabbed one of the cloths from the bowl that she had used when she was helping Virgil. She held it to her face.
“I’m all right, Virgil.”
Calvin pushed her into another chair.
“No, no, Calvin. Why?”
Charlie stirred, pulled himself upright in his chair.
“Don’t interrupt the sheriff. He was going to tell me how he’s got me all figured out. Go on, Sheriff, continue.”
Virgil glared at Calvin, but knew he needed time.
“Guess it began with the girl. You knew her from Coastal. Realized she knew her stuff. I guess you needed money. Maybe you owed some heavyweights in Vegas or you just flat out couldn’t wait for your share of the inheritance. Probably a combination. Then you heard about the oil and gas reserves that Coastal and other companies were looking into in the Southwest. That’s when you remembered all the shale up in that High Lonesome country that borders the reservation and you wondered. So I guess you somehow got Linda Murchison to go have a look. But something went wrong, didn’t it?”
“Pretty good, so far,” Calvin said. “She said it really looked good. As a matter of fact, she said the find could be huge. But then she told me she suspected most of it could be under reservation land. I asked her if it could be tapped on our land, then drawn out from there. She said she thought it could, but then she said she’d have to tell them on the reservation. I tried to talk her out of it, but the stupid bitch was adamant. That’s when I knew she couldn’t leave the top of that mesa. But she had a hard head like you. When I came back to finish her off she was gone. When I heard much later that a woman had been killed crossing the interstate I figured maybe I got lucky. Then I heard the old man had gone up there looking for some strays, I figured another opportunity had come my way. I knew I couldn’t be there, had to have an alibi, so I contacted some people. The moron I got was a pretty good shot, but not too swift on the follow-up. He told me when he looked down into that arroyo the old man looked dead. Blood all over. I shoulda told him the old man wouldn’t kill easy.”
“So that’s when everything began to head south?” Virgil asked.
“No, I figured I’d get lucky, get another chance. Here it is.”
“But what about Vernon and your mother? That was all part of it?”
“Vernon . . . Vernon just fell apart. I got him to give her the barbiturates in her tea, but that’s all. I had to finish it.”
“An overdose of your insulin.”
“Pretty good, Sheriff. The old lady just went to sleep. I probably did her a favor, avoiding a painful old age.”
“But Vernon didn’t agree with your rationalization, did he?”
“Vernon, he could have been part of all this, but he just kept getting shakier and shakier. I’d always been able to control him, but I couldn’t take the chance anymore.”
“So, what, you loaded him up on booze and tranquilizers?”
Calvin laughed a little. Virgil felt for the first time in his life like he was looking into the face of pure evil.
“He was higher than a kite. It was probably the best trip Vernon ever had. When I loaded him in that car, he had no idea where he was. All it took was me following him down the road, then giving him a little nudge when he hit the right spot. Thought he’d end up in the river, but he didn’t quite make it. No matter.”
“So everything worked out until Marian.”
Calvin looked at Marian, seated on the kitchen chair.
“She was always a pain in the ass, even when we were kids. ‘Why don’t you do what Dad wants?’ ‘High Lonesome can be yours someday.’ Well, she was right about that. After today, it will be.”
“So you figured she’d never come back here?”
“That was the plan. The old man could have lived out his days in some home. She could have sold me her share, gone on her merry way. What I have to do now is all her fault. You hear that, Marian? This is all your fault. Couldn’t be content to stay in San Francisco. What was it you told me? ‘I never should have left High Lonesome.’ Well, you’re getting your wish. You never will.”
“What about me?” Virgil asked.
“You? Hell, you’re just collateral damage.”
“Calvin, whatever you have in mind . . . you’ll be found out. How will you explain?”
Calvin’s eyes lit up. “Nothing to explain. My sister and dad died in a fire. You tried to save them. Died trying. They’re going to find you right inside the door. Yeah, that’s good. That’s exactly how it will look. Marian died trying to save the old man, getting him out of bed. You, trying to save both of them. It’s perfect.”
“No . . . No, Calvin.” Charlie tried to get out of the chair as he spoke, but fell back down.
“That’s it. It’s perfect. Get on your feet, Sheriff.”
He waved the gun in Virgil’s face. Marian moved in her chair. “No, not you. Stay right there.”
Virgil got to his feet. “Now, I want you to get him into the bedroom.”
Calvin motioned with the gun toward the open door at the far end of the back wall. Virgil helped Charlie to his feet, then steadied him. Charlie leaned heavily on Virgil. Virgil placed Charlie’s left arm around his shoulders, supporting him, with his right hand around Charlie’s back. They took a couple of steps toward the open door.
“I’m feeling a little shaky,” Virgil said.
“Marian, get around on the other side of him. Now.”
She got up, then walked to support her father on the other side. She and Virgil exchanged glances, but said nothing. Slowly, they made their way to and then through the open door.
“Now, lay him on the bed.” They brought him to the bed, then sat him on the edge. “Stretch him out. Then undress him, put him under the covers.”
Virgil pulled off Charlie’s boots while Marian undid his shirt. Together, they worked to get him out of his pants. All the while Virgil’s mind was racing, trying to think of some kind of diversion, anything that would give him a chance at Calvin or the gun. But there was nothing. He was still breathing hard from carrying Charlie into the room. His head was pounding from the effort, while the nosebleed that Marian had managed to stop for a while was now running freely again, dripping on Charlie’s shirt.
“That’ll do just fine.” Calvin was standing in the open doorway, gun in hand, the whole time.
“Calvin, you can’t do this,” Marian said.
“Sure I can.” Calvin almost smiled. “You gave me no choice, Marian. Like I said, it’s all your fault.”
Charlie started moaning.
“What’s his problem?”
“It’s his broken ribs. When he lies down, they seem to hurt more.”
Charlie tried shifting in the bed.
“What did they do for that in the hospital?”
“My pills, my pills,” Charlie said, moaning louder.
“Get him to stop. Give him something.” Calvin sounded agitated.
“I don’t know,” Marian started to respond. Charlie moaned louder.
“My pills, my pills,” he said again, pointing to the night table next to Virgil. “Give me my pills,” he said in a louder voice. “In the drawer.”
Marian looked at Virgil, shaking her head while Charlie started moaning again. “In the drawer,” he said again.
“Get the goddamn pills. Give him the goddamn pills. I don’t want to have to listen to him while I’m finishing up here. Get them out of the drawer.”
Virgil turned to the table, bent over it, then slid open the drawer.
“I don’t see any pills in here, Charlie.”
“In the back, Virgil. Way in the back.” Virgil slid his hand in farther. Then he felt the familiar barrel of a pistol.
“I think I feel the bottle,” he said. “Charlie, why did you put them so far back?”
“Safety, safety,” Charlie said.
“Just get them, then give him a dozen,” Calvin said.
Virgil slipped his hand to the grip, started to bring his arm out, flipping the safety on the gun as he did. He knew he’d only have one chance. He swung around, the gun gleaming in his hand. The look on Calvin’s face was worth a thousand words. Virgil squeezed the trigger. The blast echoed, reverberating through the house. Calvin stood in the doorway, a puzzled expression on his face. He looked down at his chest. The red stain there got bigger and bigger. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but then sank wordlessly to the floor.
38
Virgil sat in his kitchen, staring down at the empty glass along with the set of keys he had given to Ruby as he was leaving the Black Bull that last day they were together. It seemed like a thousand years ago or a day. From his seat he glanced out the window into the darkness beyond. Again, he thought of his father, and the idea of trying to maintain the peace in his little corner of the world. Today, he had killed a man to do that. He knew he had no choice, even the man’s sister and father told him that. It didn’t make it any easier to swallow. A life is a life. It was a high price to pay. Sitting in the quiet of his own home, listening to the wind that blew in the night, he heard the voice of the old house. Creaks and sometimes whisperings as if the old house were rebelling against the wind-driven currents that were trying to find a way in. Virgil had heard the sounds before. He could hear the voice of his mother telling him as a small child that they were the voices of all the people who had come before and lived in this place. She had told him not to be afraid, because they were saying to the night that we are still here. There is life in this house.
In a way it was comforting to hear them now, remembering her words. He had been trying, not too successfully, to process what had happened at High Lonesome, along with what the key he was fingering on the table meant in the great scheme of things. He thought that in trying to understand the darkness that causes people to do the things that they do, the darkness that he was trying to confront, maybe it was important to understand the voice of the old house. That by doing what he did, he also was saying no, there is life here.
He got up from his seat at the table when he saw the headlights of a car pull in, then come to a stop by the corral. He slipped the keys into his pocket and walked to the door. It was biting cold standing out on the porch. The wind sounded like a coyote’s howl. He walked down the stairs over to the car. A figure was standing by the corral fence.
“Hey, Jimmy.”
“Hey, Virgil.”
Like Virgil, Jimmy stood coatless. “That was something today. I mean, I just. His own mother, and brother. Virgil, I just don’t . . . I don’t understand.”
“You know, Jimmy, neither do I. I’ve been sitting in my kitchen trying to figure it all out. But I’m thinking that’s a mistake. No matter how hard we try, we’ll probably never understand. Kind of like I said to you the other night when you were wrestling with why you walked away and Vernon didn’t. Life is just too damn random. I guess when you are faced with something like this—death and dying—it’s best just to walk away. That’s what you and I are going to do right now. I’m going to get my coat. Then you and I are heading to the Lazy Dog for a couple of beers and burgers. Then we’re going to talk about tomorrow and the day after that.”
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