by Frank Hayes
Virgil looked at Cesar standing partially in shadow where the porch light didn’t reach. “I’ve been going out on my own for a while now, old-timer. Don’t worry. I run into trouble I’ll send up a smoke signal.”
“I don’t read smoke. That’s for those relatives of yours on the reservation. Just make sure you have your cell.”
Virgil stood on the porch after Cesar had gone down to his apartment in one of the new barns. Billy Three Hats was right, the air did feel good. Chilled on the heels of a light wind, it had swept away the last of the summer heat once and for all. He pulled up his collar, saw stars twinkling in the night sky, and reckoned it had been a good day. Thoughts of Ruby swept over him like the soft breeze. He couldn’t read tea leaves, but he knew the future looked better now. The hint of the winter that was coming, because of her, held a promise that he couldn’t have foreseen. He turned his back on the night, then stepped into the kitchen. The cleanup didn’t take long, so when he was done he went into the living room to check the weather for the next couple of days. He didn’t know what he would find in his search up in the high country, but at least he could be prepared. The late news was ending so he knew he was in time for the weather report.
“So before we move on to the weather, again that late-breaking story. A small, private plane seems to have crashed in the Superstition Mountains. Preliminary reports are that there were three occupants, the pilot, a federal marshal, and a prisoner who was being transported to an undisclosed location. A search has begun. Further details are unknown at this time. Now for the weather.”
Virgil sat in the quiet a long time. He could hear the ticking of the clock on the mantel over the fireplace, the creaking noises as the night air found entry into the tiniest gaps in the old house. Twice, he started to rise from the cozy grasp of the comfortable chair, only to sink back down. When at last he struggled to his feet, his world view had changed. He put in a call to Kyle Harrison but got no response.
Later, he lay wrapped in a fog, sifting through the words he had heard, trying to make sense of it all.
14
He stood with his foot on the lowest rail of the corral. The cold sun had come up, doing little to warm him as his expired breath condensed in small clouds. He was still the sheriff of Hayward County and he knew two things. First, he had never given in to self-recrimination. Second, he was not about to start now. Virgil was hardwired in the school of suck it up. He remembered an incident from his youth, before he’d even made it to double figures. A particularly rank gelding had chosen on a morning not unlike this to make him part of the landscape. As he lay in the dirt looking for some kind of comfort, his father stood over him.
“You know that ground’s not going to get any softer the longer you lie there.” Now, all these years later, the lesson still held.
A pickup came rolling down the driveway. It was probably older than most of the population of Hayward. Two men got out. Virgil took his foot from the bottom rail, pushed the brim of his hat a little higher on his forehead, nodding as they exited the pickup, whose engine continued to sputter even after the ignition key was withdrawn. Finally, it gave a little pop and went silent.
“Good morning, señor.”
“Morning, Pete,” Virgil said. “You and Joe are going to put in a long day. Hope the old man doesn’t kill you.”
They each smiled broadly. Virgil didn’t know whether it was his reference to Cesar or the fact that he had Americanized them. They were brothers, but could have been twins, they looked so much alike. Dark eyes in darker faces, straight black hair that rarely saw a comb, perpetual smiles showing gleaming white teeth. Virgil hired them at Cesar’s request over ten years before when they were still wet from the river. They were, according to Cesar, his cousins. Virgil’s response to that was that he had never met anyone from the other side of the river who wasn’t a cousin. Nevertheless, they had turned out to be as steady as a spring rain. The more Virgil’s job as sheriff grew, the more he realized how crucial they had become. They all turned at the opening of the barn door. Jack came busting out into the corral, snorted, dropped his head, and bucked.
“He feeling good,” José said. They watched as he did two laps around the corral, then came to a stop in front of Virgil. Virgil’s arms were resting on the second rail of the four-rail fence. Jack started to nibble on his sleeve. Virgil reached his hand in to stroke his face. Jack dropped his head under Virgil’s touch, becoming a different horse.
“He loves you,” Pedro said.
“Yeah,” Virgil said, “we kinda appreciate one another.”
Just then Cesar came out from one of the other barn doors. Virgil stepped back from the corral fence. “Don’t work these boys too hard today. Remember, they got to be able to eat that Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow.”
“Just enough to work up a good appetite,” Cesar said. “You want help loading Jack? I already attached the trailer.”
“I saw. Did you secure the lock on the ball along with the umbilical chain?”
Cesar winced. “Make one mistake, one time, haunts you forever.”
“Yeah, well, we’ll save that debate for another day, but if you boys will excuse me now, I’m going to load Jack and double-check the hitch. Have a nice Thanksgiving.”
“Sí, señor,” they added in unison. “And you, too.”
Virgil left them standing by the corral and went into the barn. When he returned, they had already left for the Thompson ranch. He put his saddle into the cab of the truck, then got a couple of flakes of hay, placing them in the feed rack of the trailer. Last, he loaded a sack of sweet feed. Jack stepped into the trailer quickly. Cesar had hitched up the one-horse trailer, so even with Jack’s thousand-plus pounds, Virgil hardly felt the pull on the heavy-duty pickup. When he pulled onto the hard surface, he glanced in the mirror. Jack was already contentedly munching on the hay.
Virgil stopped at the office to tell Rosie his plans. He could hear her in the holding cell area when he came into the office. He walked over to his desk and saw that everything was pretty much as he had left it the day before. The accident report from Alex was just where he had dropped it.
“Sorry about not checking in yesterday,” Virgil said as Rosie emerged from the hallway leading to the cells.
“It’s nothing. Don’t worry, Virgil. You got enough on your plate right now.”
It was a surprising answer. Virgil looked at Rosie. There was concern showing in her eyes.
“Kyle Harrison called,” she said. “He told me about the plane. About you. Yesterday. We can talk about it if you want.”
“No. Not now. Maybe sometime, but not now. I think it’s best if I keep my head in the game. In a little while, I’m heading out to the Thompson place. Got Jack in the trailer. Going to stable him there, then go looking for Charlie. I might start tomorrow.”
“Virgil, it’s Thanksgiving.”
“Yeah, I know. My grandfather’s not going to be too happy. Just don’t think I’d be the best company right now. Don’t feel like being in a crowd. Maybe getting up in that country will help to clear my head a little, get some perspective.”
He went over to his desk, looked at the accident report again, then picked up the phone. Alex answered on the second ring.
“Redbud Police Annex. How can I help you?”
“Very professional, Alex. Didn’t figure you’d be back in the office so early. Thought maybe the new baby would be keeping you up.”
“Actually, Virgil, so far, so good. Looks like we got a keeper, practically slept through. What can I do for you? Oh, by the way, my wife said to tell you thanks for the flowers.”
“Alex, I just wanted to get a little background on that accident you covered yesterday. Good report, but I was hoping you could give me a little more.”
“Not too much to tell. One car drifted over the line, caught the other, then they each spun out. The drifter’s driver
was the only one that got physically banged up. They brought him to the hospital to check him out. That’s where I caught up with him. Virgil, I didn’t ticket him. It was Vernon Thompson, Velma and Charlie’s son. Knew about his mom. Just didn’t have the heart there and then. He seemed pretty off.”
“How do you mean, Alex? Upset or something else?”
“Kinda hard to say. Didn’t smell alcohol, but I figured maybe he was on some kind of meds. You know, because of his mother’s death. Had kind of a glazed look. Hope I didn’t make a mistake, but I chalked it up. Figured insurance would take care of the vehicle damage. There wasn’t any damage to anyone except Vernon.”
“Okay. I’m heading out there today. If he’s there, I’ll check him out. By the way, tell Dave when he gets in, I’m going to look for Charlie. Be out of touch for a couple of days.”
“Will do. You’re not going up into that backcountry by yourself? You’d better be careful. After all, Charlie ain’t come back yet and he knows that country better ’n anybody.”
Virgil hung up the phone, mulling over Alex’s words. He was right—it didn’t bode well that Charlie hadn’t come back by now. Then the office door opened. Virgil got an unexpected greeting.
“Hey, Sheriff.”
“Jimmy, what are you doing here? You just got out of the hospital.”
“The doctors said I could resume normal activity as long as it wasn’t physically strenuous. I figure coming down here, sitting behind a desk qualifies. Rosie told me what you were going to be up to, so I figured you might be a little shorthanded, what with Thanksgiving and all. I could ride the desk rather than sit home watching football. Here I could do both, along with giving Rosie and Dif some downtime. They could probably use it.”
“Can’t argue that. They both been putting in extra hours.”
“Wish I could go with you looking for Mr. Thompson, but riding a chair is one thing, a horse, something else.”
Virgil glanced over at Rosita, who had been unusually quiet during the exchange.
“So you know about that. One step at a time, Jimmy. Okay, if you’re up to it, call Dif, tell him he can stay home. Put an edge on that knife he’s going to use to carve up that bird tomorrow.”
Virgil turned to Rosie, who was still sitting quietly at her desk. “So, since you dragged this poor kid out of his hospital bed to get some time off, you might as well get out of here also. Guess you got a little prep for tomorrow, too.”
“Thank you. I do have a lot to do. Virgil, why don’t you wait another day or two on Charlie? Then maybe you can get someone to go with you.”
“No, Rosie. I already waited too long, considering how Velma ended up.”
“You think there’s a connection?”
“I don’t know, but you know how I feel about coincidences. Charlie’s away, Velma ends up dead, and Charlie hasn’t come back. Sure is odd. On top of that we got a poor girl who dropped out of the sky on top of Jimmy here. We still don’t know anything about her other than she came out onto that highway from High Lonesome ranch. That just makes it even stranger to me.”
Virgil stood up from his desk. “Anyhow, now that my top hand is back, I’m going to take off.”
“If he’s your top hand, what does that make me?” Rosie said.
Virgil looked hard at Rosie, then headed for the door.
“You know,” he said, “all these years, I’m still trying to figure that out.” He didn’t wait for the response.
* * *
The ride out to the Thompson ranch was uneventful. It was a little after ten by the time he got there. The foreman, Manuel, was closing the door to the largest of the three barns as he pulled up.
“You just missed Cesar. They say they’re going to try to make two more hay runs today. He told me about you going to look for Mr. Charlie.”
“Is anybody in the house?” Virgil asked.
“Miss Marian is there. She came the night before last. If you want, I’ll unload your horse while you go see her.”
“Thanks, but Jack and I have a long-standing relationship. It might go a little more smoothly if I handle it. I’m going to put him in that corral, then maybe you can point me to an empty stall I can use.”
“In this barn, you can take your pick. There’s plenty of empty ones. Not like the old days.”
“Yeah, so I hear. Guess Charlie was hoping one of the boys would show some interest.”
Virgil did not miss the subtle change in Manuel’s body language. When he did not respond, Virgil’s interest was piqued.
“Too bad,” Virgil said. “This ranch really had a reputation. You know, my dad and Charlie were real close. Back in the day, they used to rodeo together. He always said Charlie was fearless. He’d ride anything they could saddle. Worked hard on this place, too. Sure is a shame.”
“Those boys want no part of this,” Manuel said, gesturing at the whole ranch around him. “All they want is to take, give nothing back. Mr. Thompson was a hard man, but good. Never ask someone to do something he wouldn’t do himself. Give those boys a great life, but they throw it away. ¿Quién sabe?”
“Some people don’t appreciate when they’re given something they never earned. But like you said, who knows?”
Virgil watched as Manuel walked toward the barn, then he moved to the back of the trailer. He let the ramp down. Jack snorted, then began stomping his feet in place and shaking his head in the cross ties.
“Don’t get your shorts in a knot. I’m running as fast as I can.” He went around to the side door, then stepped up into the trailer. Jack was still tossing his head. Virgil reached over the bar, clipped a lead rope on Jack’s halter, and undid the cross ties. He slipped under the bar, then gently put a finger to Jack’s chest. He gave a slight nudge. Jack immediately started backing up and down the ramp. Virgil followed until they were both on solid ground.
“Good boy.” Virgil stood at Jack’s head while he looked him over, then encouraged him to take a few steps. Jack stepped gingerly forward, away from the confinement of the trailer. Virgil led him to the empty corral, opened the gate, then led him through. Once inside, he unclipped the lead rope. Jack snorted again, threw his head from side to side, then pranced around the corral while Virgil walked back to the open gate. A woman was waiting there.
Marian Thompson was all angles, lean and ramrod straight. Her hair had a peculiar streak of white that ran left of center until it disappeared in the auburn lock that reached her shoulders. She had clear, blue eyes along with a smile that showed a row of even white teeth. She would have stood out in any crowd.
“I’m guessing you’re Sheriff Virgil Dalton.”
“Guilty as charged, ma’am.”
“Don’t ma’am me, Virgil. I’m Marian. Marian Davies, formerly Thompson. Don’t know that we’re that many years apart, but I can’t say that I ever remember meeting you.”
“Same here, Marian, but if I ever met you, I’d remember.”
“Well, that’s a lot better than ma’am, Virgil. Almost makes me feel desirable. A smart man knows that it’s important to make a woman feel that way and I judge you to be a smart man.”
“I try,” Virgil said. “Sometimes I come up short.”
“Oh, my. Smart, modest, and easy to look at. That’s a lethal combination.”
“Real sorry about your mom, Marian.”
“I appreciate that, Virgil. I loved my mom. It’s tough to let go. Just wasn’t expecting it.”
“I understand. Guess you’re wondering why I’m here and why I brought Jack.”
“Just a little bit. That’s a lot of horse you put in the corral. I was watching from the porch. Big gelding.”
“He is big, but if you were a little closer than the porch, you would have seen that he’s intact.”
She stepped to the side to get a better look at Jack, who was still stretching his legs.
“Tomorrow morning, at first light, I’m going up on that tableland to see if I can find your father.”
“You think something’s happened to him?”
“Well, I believe tomorrow’s the fifth day he’s been gone. Aren’t you concerned?”
“I wish he was here, because of what happened to Mom. It’s going to be tough on him, but as far as being concerned, well . . . You have to understand, my dad has always been the toughest man I’ve ever known. He’s gone up on that plateau hundreds of times, most of the time branding, riding herd on some of the meanest critters God ever saw fit to cover with cowhide. He’s been gored, kicked, and stomped on, been down more times than I can count, but he’s never been out. So no, I haven’t been concerned. Do you have a reason to be, besides how long he’s been gone? Because he’s been gone many times longer than this.”
For the next few minutes, Virgil told Marian about the recent events that ended with him bringing Jack up to High Lonesome ranch. When he finished, Marian reached out and ran her hand along one of the rails of the corral, then looked toward the unbroken stretch of land that ended at the far horizon. She didn’t say anything right away. Her teeth were clenched so that the skin on her face was so tight her cheekbones became even more prominent.
“Damn barbiturates,” she said. “You’d have to just about hog-tie her to get her to take an aspirin. So, what you’re saying here is, Mom didn’t go naturally.”
“That seems to be the case, but Ark, I mean Dr. Kincaid, is still looking.”
“But this makes no sense. Why would someone do this? To a seventy-five-year-old woman who never did harm to anyone?”
“That’s the question I’m trying to answer. Maybe if I find Charlie that will give me a piece of the puzzle that I’m missing.”
15
Virgil stood alone in the huge, empty barn. It was an eerie feeling. He set his saddle on the top rail of the closest stall. He had already hung Jack’s bridle on the hook of a corner post. Now he started down the center walkway, which ran the length of the barn. Every stall was empty. When he had walked into his newly built barns the day they were completed, he had felt the loss of past remembrance. Here the feeling was more of abandonment. Perfectly good buildings that no longer had a purpose. It seemed like such a waste. An orange cat came out from one of the empty stalls. She came over to him, brushing up against his leg. He bent down, stroked her, then picked her up.