“I don’t believe that.” I pushed back my chair and kneeled beside the table.
“Oh, God. Please don’t, I think I’m going to be sick.”
Kneeling there with the ring in my hand, I sighed. “Well, that would certainly rob the moment of the romance I’d intended.” I cleared my throat, hoping I’d find my voice there. “Will you stay married to me?”
There was a long pause before she finally spoke. “No.”
“No?” I chewed the inside of my cheek.
“I’m afraid that we’ll be living quiet lives of regret and desperation, and I just can’t face that, not now, not with the baby.” She stared at her lap and pulled her hair back out of the way. “You say you’ve learned things over the last few years; well, I’ve learned a few things, too.”
“And that’s why you drove all night to meet me here?”
Her eyes came up. “I went to Denver because Henry asked me to pick him up at the airport. He’s the one who said we should head west and catch you so that you and I could talk. He’s meeting me at the train station in Evanston so that you and I can have a few hours.”
“Maybe I should marry him?”
“Maybe you should.”
I stood and sat back in my chair and tossed the ring onto an empty plate where it rattled and stilled.
—
We moved to the observation car, where we had the open vista of the high plains to ourselves; I supposed the other sheriffs and their guests weren’t interested in the topography between Rock Springs and Evanston.
“We aren’t talking.”
I glanced over at her. “I didn’t figure there was much more to say.”
“Tell me about this case.”
“That’s the last thing I want to talk about.”
She settled into the lounger and crossed her arms. “Well, we’ve got almost two hours to fill.”
“I can think of other things we could do.”
“No.”
“Just for old times’ sake?”
She looked out the windows at the rapidly traveling clouds. It was midday, and all I could think was that she probably wished she were somewhere, anywhere, else but here. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
We sat there in silence for a while, both of us thinking about what might come next.
“I don’t know, Martha. Maybe I’ve changed. I never thought I grew up in a sheltered environment.” She smiled but said nothing. “I don’t mean to sound dramatic, but I’ve seen a lot of things since I’ve been gone and not all of them positive.” I hesitated a bit. “Nothing specific that I want to talk about, but I always thought that people were good, down deep.”
“And now you don’t?”
I took a breath, feeling more like crawling under the moving train than continuing the conversation I had started. “Not as much.”
She glanced around to make sure none of the sheriffs had wandered in. “And you think this job will help you to recover your faith in humanity?”
“No, not at all, but maybe I can help even the score.” I waited a moment and then continued with what sounded even to me like a rationalization. “I was able to do some good in all those places—I guess at a cost, but I think the final results were worth the price.”
She reached out and ran her smooth, warm fingers over the scars on my hand. “Worth it to you?”
“To me.”
“Then maybe this is something you should do.”
“It is.” We both turned to find Lucian Connelly standing in the aisleway. “I hope I’m not interrupting.” He extended a hand and even went so far as to take off his hat. “Hello, missy.”
Martha looked at the hand the way I’d guess Eve had regarded reptiles, but finally took it. “Sheriff.”
“What are you two lovebirds doing here?”
“Just talking.”
He pulled out the chair beside her and sat on the back. “You’re Jack and Mildred Pierson’s girl, aren’t you?”
“Yes, sir.”
I watched him flipping the Rolodex in his head, tracking through her family history in those few, brief seconds. “I’ve noticed you—hard to miss a pretty young gal such as yourself.” She maintained eye contact with him, and I was proud of her. “I was just waiting around to see if you were going to make a mistake by not staying married to this lunkhead here.”
She started to stand. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”
He slipped his hat back on and stared at her. “Oh, yes, it is. You see, I think that feller there has all the makings to be one of the finest lawmen to ever grace the great state of Wyoming. Right now Absaroka County is mine, but someday I’m going to want to hand it off to somebody that’s worthy. In the meantime, I need steady, decent, focused deputies, and, missy, from experience I’ve learned that married men fit the bill much better.”
Her mouth hung open in surprise until she finally began shaking her head. “You think I should stay with Walter for the betterment of your department?”
“Well, that would work for me, but I doubt it’s a good enough reason for you.”
“And what should my own reason be, in your opinion?”
“I’ve got a feeling he’s one of the finest men I’ve ever met.”
She smiled at him. “He’s only been on your staff for a couple of weeks.”
“Oh, I’ve had my eye on him a long time.”
“Have you, now?”
“Young lady, I’m beginning to think you might not like me all that much.”
She continued studying him. “You might be right, but more important, I don’t think what you do for a living is good enough for him.”
The sheriff just smiled. “Good enough?”
“Yes.”
He looked away and wet his lips with a quick flick of his tongue. “Ma’am, with all due respect, I deal with life and death every day, and the stakes don’t get any higher than that.” He held his gaze on the snow-covered prairie as it sped by. “Now, you may be right about Walter here being able to do or be anything he wants, but if you’re thinking there’s something else he could do that would make more of a difference in his lifetime, then I’m going to have to rein you up short.” He glanced at me.
She said nothing.
“There’s only one higher calling than the law, and he already did two tours of that one.” He turned and started toward the door. “I did a few tours myself.” He tapped my shoulder as he passed, and I wondered if he’d done me more damage than good. “John Schafer, Albany County, is looking for you. Probably wants you to go with him when he visits his bedbug of a brother in the loony bin in Evanston.” He turned and looked at me. “Just go, every new guy does it.” Then he looked at Martha. “Think of it as your swan song to law enforcement.” He studied me. “It’s not like he’s asking you to go visit Annie Welsh or anything.”
Before I could ask who Annie Welsh was, Martha, in a voice with a little more than an edge to it, interrupted. “I suppose you’re used to people doing what you tell them?”
He studied her and then tipped his hat. “Yes, ma’am. I am.”
—
Judge Snowden bit into his sandwich—it was a warm fall day and we had decided to picnic. “They’ve got me in this apartment about a block from here with a mini refrigerator, so I bought some cold cuts and started making my own lunches.” He tipped his light-colored hat back on his head. “Problem is I can’t make a sandwich to save my ass.” He looked up at me as he picked at a wilted shred of lettuce. “Do you suppose the very last produce trucks in America end up at the grocery stores in Wyoming?”
Even though the Californian made fun of my state, I liked the guy. “It’s possible.” I glanced at the cottonwood trees surrounding the plaza. It had been a warm fall, even down here in Cheyenne, and the leaves on the cottonwoods were still a
brilliant yellow. “You’re out of the case now?”
“So it would appear; judges pale in comparison to governors.”
“But you’re off it?”
“Figuratively. I’m waiting until your governor or his wife holds another press conference.”
“Figuratively enough to advise me on what to do?”
“Oh, I’m always available for advice; there’s just usually a consultation fee.” I stared at him, and he finally smiled, and not for the first time I thought that he was an exceedingly smart man. “Just kidding.”
“Then what should I do?”
He dropped the remains of his unsatisfactory sandwich into a brown paper bag and wiped the corner of his mouth with a folded paper towel. “The hardest thing in the world—nothing. The wheels of justice grind slow but exceedingly fine.” He deposited the makeshift napkin in the sack. “Anyway, from the information I’ve gleaned from the medical advisory board, he’ll be dead before he ever sees the light of day.”
“So wait it out?”
He bit his lip. “Or risk looking like a vindictive prick in the papers.”
“Is that a legal term in California?”
“It ought to be—we have enough of them.” He brushed off a few crumbs from his jeans, straightened his tie, and, shooting the cuffs of his shirt under his blazer, looked around for a wastebasket.
We walked over to one of those green wire trash containers. “You don’t strike me as the type to back down.” He turned and slam-dunked the garbage into the receptacle. “But you also don’t strike me as the kind who goes looking for a fight.”
“Maybe I was a couple of decades ago, but I’m not so sure I’ve got the energy for it anymore.” I shook my head as we walked back toward the capitol building. “You ever have a case like this before?”
“I live in Napa; the closest I’ve ever been to something like this is disputes between wine growers, not that they can’t be a ruthless lot.”
“Nobody wins?”
He stopped and looked at me. “Pick your battles, Sheriff.” He patted my shoulder and directed my attention to a black SUV sitting at the curb with the Bobs standing by the doors. “You may not always win the war, Walt, but it’s good to know you fought the battle.” He turned and continued toward the capitol building.
I walked to the Bobs with my hands raised. “No need to shoot, boys, I’ll go peaceable.”
Robert made a gun out of his hand, holding a forefinger on me as Bob went around to the driver’s side. “C’mon, we’re taking you for a ride.”
“Proverbial?”
Bob opened the door. “No, it’s a Suburban.”
The black leather seats were configured across from each other, and I climbed in and sat so that I faced the two men occupying the back. “No fair; two on one.”
Joe Meyer, Cady’s landlord and the attorney general, smiled at the other man. “Yeah, four if you count the Bobs.”
As we pulled out, I put on my seat belt, slipped off my Ray-Bans, hanging them in my shirt pocket, and looked at the formidable man in the dark suit and bright yellow tie across from me. “Governor Fisk.”
He reached a hand out. “Call me Wally.”
“Walt.” We shook. “Where we headed, Wally?”
“Someplace where we won’t get interrupted.”
Joe and I made small talk as we swung up Business 25 past the airport and Sloan Lake, then took a left, heading into the Frontier Days Rodeo Grounds at the north end of town. Evidently they were expecting us—the gates were open and the security detail waved the Bobs through into the main arena.
Delude swung the Suburban around as Hall threw an arm over the seat. “You want us to do a few donuts? Good dirt for it.”
Joe, more knowledgeable of the Bobs’ driving predilections than the governor, suppressed a smile. “Um, that’s okay, Bob—just stop here.”
Fisk unbuckled and opened the door for himself. He leaned forward. “Take a walk with me, Walt.”
I glanced at Joe as I climbed out after the governor and closed the door behind us, watching as the SUV pulled away. “Does this mean we have to walk back?”
He half smiled, kneeled down, and picked up a handful of soil, crumbling the earth between his fingers. “You ever rodeo?”
“Nope, grew up on a working ranch and never saw the attraction.”
He stood up. “I used to do some rough-stock riding.”
“You look it.”
He smiled, patting a bit of a stomach. “Well, back in the day.” He took a few steps toward the chutes. “Never anything this extravagant.”
I studied the massive grandstand, a little surreal without the thousands of people filling it.
“Got a box around here?”
He pointed. “I sit right there, among the people.” He turned back toward me. “Real easy to get on your high horse these days.”
I toed the real estate with my boot. “Is it?”
He studied me for a moment, then dropped the rest of the dirt and sniffed his hand.
“I wonder how much blood, sweat, and tears I sifted through my fingers just now.”
“I don’t know, but I’m betting there might’ve been a little bullshit mixed in there as well.”
To his credit, he laughed. “I’m inured, considering my occupation. Do you know what I really do for a living, Walt?”
“Run the state?”
“I make deals. That’s what governing is—giving a little, getting a little.”
I stuffed my hands in the pockets of my jeans and said nothing.
He looked around the arena like it was the ruin of a fallen city. “I liked the competition, I have to admit, but I was young and not quite sure of what it was I wanted to do with my life. Then I met Carol and started figuring things out.”
I nodded and threw him a bone. “A woman can do that to your life—raise the stakes.”
“You’re married, aren’t you, Walt?”
“Widowed.”
“Oh.” He looked at the dirt he’d just dropped. “I suppose I should’ve known that, huh?”
“No reason.”
He took a deep breath and looked around. “You’re a highly visible man in the state.”
“So are you.”
He shook his head. “Oh no, I’m just a lame-duck governor looking to get out of office before I find some way to step on my dick and screw things up.”
“How would you do that?”
“I don’t know . . . maybe having a highly publicized pissing match with a legendary sheriff over a case that doesn’t amount to a hill of beans.”
I sighed. “I don’t think you have that much to worry about. The honorable Judge Snowden thinks I’ll end up looking like a . . . ‘a vindictive prick,’ I think were the words he used.”
“Well, then, he doesn’t know Wyoming.”
“Maybe, but he knows the law.”
Wally turned his head and focused on me with a practiced smile. “The law is the last thing I’m concerned with here.”
I tried to smile back, but it wouldn’t take, so I just stood there looking at him. “I suppose Joe Meyer told you how I feel about people telling me how to do my job.”
“He has, and I’ve got the same attitude. The question is, whose job is this?”
“Well, it was mine. I’m the one who arrested him.”
“Yes, and it was the state and people of Wyoming that found him guilty, sentenced him, and incarcerated him.”
“For a multitude of lifetimes.”
The governor nodded and walked past me toward the chutes. “You know, a lot of people claim my allegiances are to corporate interests rather than to the people. Well, I could make some sort of overture by commuting a death sentence as my swan song, but since no one is currently awaiting execution and we haven’t performed one since 1
992, I’m thinking maybe of a life-sentence commutation.” He stood with his back to me. “You know, I’ve got another six months in office, and right now I’m considering a request from your buddy Joe.” He turned back to look at me. “Joe seems to think we need to have a special investigator for the attorney general’s office.”
I breathed a laugh. “Does he now?”
“The position would have jurisdiction over the entire state.” He began walking in a circle around me. “Imagine that, statewide jurisdiction; the ability to pick and choose cases from all the dockets in Wyoming.”
“I suppose Joe told you what I’d say to this as well.”
He placed a hand on my shoulder. “Yes, but I told him I could try and make it worth your while.”
“No.” I turned to look at him, the two of us squaring off like a couple of old bulls. “I’m afraid you can’t.”
10
She fiddled with a delicate chain and the ring that hung from it—a small diamond with matching chips in a vintage setting. “Was it a long walk?”
“I had plenty of time to think.”
We spoke in low voices in an attempt to not wake up Lola, who had fallen asleep in the Pack ’n Play. She barely fit inside it these days, but it was her comfort zone and she didn’t want to give it up. The Greatest Legal Mind of Our Time continued to interrogate me. “I can’t believe they dropped you at the rodeo grounds and wouldn’t give you a ride back.”
“Oh, they would have, but I was making a point and wouldn’t get in.”
She shook her head. “Hard-ass.”
“I guess.”
“Special investigator for the attorney general’s office, huh?”
I nodded and leaned back on the sofa. Slipping off my boots. I put my feet up on the coffee table, but Cady looked at them as though they were cow pies, so I lowered them to Dog’s back. “I think they made up the position.”
“We’d be in the same building.”
“They didn’t say anything about an office.”
“Try and get Joe Meyer’s; it’s on a corner.” She gazed toward the kitchen where Alexia was cooking up something that smelled wonderful. “You have never been susceptible to bribes. I can’t believe my landlord would try something like that; he’s known you for years.”
The Western Star Page 14
