by Frank Hayes
“Why is he doing that?”
“He wants to run. Get some of the kinks out.”
“I guess that’s what they mean when they say he’s feeling his oats.”
Virgil nodded.
“Why doesn’t Sugar act that way?”
“She’s content to let Jack show off.”
“Smart girl. She understands how dumb some men can be. Always trying to impress.”
Virgil glanced sideways at Ruby and tried to stifle a laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“I’ll tell you after you tell me what you’re doing.”
“I told you, I did this once before. The instructor taught me about posting. I’m trying to post.”
“That’s English riding, not Western. Sit deep in the saddle so no space shows between your butt and the saddle. Kinda hug Sugar.”
“Isn’t that going to make me sore?”
“You’ll get used to it, and you’ll get the feel of the horse’s rhythm.”
“Oh, kind of become one with the horse. I get it. It’s a kind of Zen kind of thing.”
“A Zen kind of thing. Yeah, I guess.”
For the next few minutes, they walked quietly, then Virgil put Jack into a light trot. Without any encouragement, Sugar picked up the pace. Virgil watched to see Ruby’s reaction.
“Don’t fight it, sit deep in the saddle, and don’t hold the pommel. Use your innate sense of balance.”
He was pleased to see her respond to his instruction. After a couple of minutes, he pulled Jack to a stop and waited until Sugar came alongside. They were at the base of a low butte.
“You’re doing great,” he said, taking note of the color in her face. “Don’t forget to breathe. Now we’re going to do a light canter up this rise. Remember to balance and hug Sugar. Keep your hand off that horn, hold the reins so there’s just a hint of slack and you can feel the bit in Sugar’s mouth.”
He could see the apprehension in her face.
“You might find this gait easier if you can get into a nice rocking chair kind of motion.”
“Rocking chairs don’t snort,” she said.
“She’s just feeling good. Let’s go. I’ll be right alongside of you.”
He leaned forward and Jack stepped into a lope with Sugar right next to him. Virgil watched Ruby and after a tense couple of moments saw her start to relax into the saddle and the rhythm of the pace. They loped along a switchback, as it crisscrossed its way to the top of the ridge. When they got on top, Virgil pulled Jack up while Sugar came to a stop a couple of paces back. Then on her own, Ruby nudged her and she moved forward until they were side by side.
“That was fun,” Ruby said. “I really liked that and it was a lot more comfortable than trotting. It didn’t even hurt.”
Virgil smiled. “We’re gonna make a cowgirl outta you yet.”
They jogged along the top of the rise, then down the descending slope until they reached the flatland. All the while Virgil kept instructing her about shifting her weight back going downhill, staying on the balls of her feet in the stirrups as much as she could and all the time trying to feel the contact with Sugar’s mouth. For the next half hour, they rode at different gaits. Ruby responded with eagerness and a willingness that surprised him. By the time they got within sight of the stock tank, where Virgil had discovered Buddy Hinton’s bloated body, she had already passed novice status. A couple of times, he had even seen her squeeze Sugar’s sides on her own to encourage her to pick up her pace. A wry smile creased his face.
“What are you smiling at?”
“Oh, nothing. It’s just that I was thinking probably your old friends back in New York might be more than a little surprised if they could see you now.”
She didn’t respond. A look passed over her face, then was gone.
“What’s that sticking out at the top of the hill?” she said.
“It’s a stock tank. The cattle water there in the dry. Creeks are running pretty good right now because of the rain. That’s why they aren’t there now.”
Before he could say more, she sharply nudged Sugar and started forward. Virgil held back. He hadn’t been there since the day of his grim discovery. Ruby glanced back and saw that Virgil hadn’t moved. She pulled Sugar to a stop then turned her and came back.
“Is there something wrong?”
“No. It’s just that I haven’t been here since . . . See, this is where I found Buddy Hinton. Floating in that tank.”
“Oh!” she said. “I read about it in the newspaper, but I had no idea this was where . . .”
“It’s all right. There’s no way you could know exactly where. Besides, I don’t want ghosts in my life. It’s probably a good thing we ended up here.”
Virgil put his heels to Jack before Ruby could respond. By the time she caught up with him, Jack had already lowered his head and was making loud sucking noises as he drank from the tank. Sugar came to stand next to him and lowered her head into the dark water. Virgil and Ruby sat in silence while they drank.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“I’m fine. If you can stand a little more, there’s a nice view from the top of that next ridge.”
“Let’s go for it.”
The ride was a bit longer and a little steeper, but Ruby was determined. When they got to the top, they were rewarded with an unobstructed view in every direction that ended only at the horizon.
The sun was higher, but still the rolling country showed dark, hidden arroyos at the bottom of long, undulating mesas. There were vast grazing areas between the ridges, and clusters of cattle scattered and moved slowly as they grazed. The cloudless sky hung over it all. A couple of hawks and buzzards soared high overhead on the thermals. Crickets and locusts whispered and buzzed to each other. An occasional distant moo or the bawl of a calf could be heard while closer it was the rhythmic heavy breathing of the now well-lathered horses.
“It’s beautiful,” she said. “Epic.”
“Epic. I never thought of it like that.”
“You know what I mean. Beautiful just doesn’t seem like enough. It’s more than just what you see. It’s a feeling, like I don’t know, like a religious experience. Don’t you feel it?”
She looked at Virgil sitting beside her on Jack. He had taken his right leg out of the stirrup and crossed it over the front of the saddle as he sat back, enjoying the moment. There was a slight dampness in his dark hair, noticeable only because he’d taken off his sweat-stained Stetson and set it on his crossed knee. Ruby looked at the sharp features in his face. His dark eyes were scanning the horizon. For the first time, she realized that what she had taken all along to be a facial crease was instead a long thin scar which showed lighter against his tanned cheek.
“I guess religious,” he finally said. “Maybe spiritual.”
“You have a problem with religious? Seen too many TV evangelists?”
“Maybe I’ve just seen too much when the TV’s turned off.”
“Like a body floating in a stock tank.”
Virgil didn’t answer at first. When he finally did, he turned away from the panorama that had filled their eyes and looked directly at her.
“Maybe it’s hard for me to square all this and the idea of a religious experience with what I know goes on in the world I’m going back to after we leave here.”
“But maybe this helps to make that bearable.”
“Guess that’s what you call looking for the silver lining.”
He put his hat on, then swung his leg back over the saddle and slipped his foot into the stirrup.
“Sit deep,” he said, “and throw your weight back into the saddle as we head back down the ridge.”
“My riding lesson is over?”
“Not till we get back to the barn and we’re sitting on the porch with a cold beer and a san
dwich.”
* * *
“Why didn’t you tell me? I’m so sore even my eyeballs hurt.”
“If I had, I probably never would have gotten you up on the horse in the first place.”
“Poor Sugar,” Ruby said.
“Sugar?”
“Yes. At least I had a beer and a sandwich, and when I get back home before I go downstairs I’m going to soak in a tub for about three hours.”
“Don’t worry about Sugar. A little hay, a little grain, a roll in the corral and she’ll be ready to go again.”
“Are you coming by later tonight?”
“I’ll try, but I’ve got to deal with that other world we talked about first. Besides, maybe you’ve had enough exercise for one day.”
“Yeah, well, it’s going to take a lot more than a little grain for me. I’m not about to roll in the corral before I’m ready to go again. So if you’re looking for that kind of action, you might want to sleep in your own bed tonight.”
Virgil was standing in the driveway watching Ruby’s car turn onto the hard road when Cesar came alongside.
“How did it go?”
“Not bad. Not bad at all. She’s got game.”
“Speaks good Mex, too,” Cesar said. “Maybe Nogales?”
“New York.”
“No,” Cesar said, shaking his head. “Nogales first, then maybe New York. Good-looking and spunky. That’s a real dangerous combination.”
32
When he walked into the office on Monday morning, he brought with him a certain measure of unease. It had started creeping in over the last few days, but it was full-blown by Monday. He wasn’t sure when it had started or where it had come from, but he had spent a restless night because of it. Crazy dreams that seemed to have no connection and made little sense. A couple of times as he struggled for rest, he had that falling-off-the-cliff feeling. Twice he awakened in a sweat, in a grip of apprehension that caused him to fear slipping into sleep again. The women that had been in his life came to him, but their faces had become interchangeable. Once it was his mother who became Rusty, then became Ruby, and then at last a less distinguishable face. He wrestled for the connection, but came up empty.
By the time the first rays filtered through the curtained windows, they had all faded into his subconscious, to be replaced by the bloated body of Buddy Hinton in the stock tank and the two headless bodies from the ravine.
He sat on the side of the bed for a long minute, trying to shake off the images and the stupor from the torturous sleep. Finally, he staggered to his feet and found his way to the shower. He sat on the molded fiberglass seat, letting the water pour down in its relentless rhythm until it drove the images from his brain. By the time he got to his car, all that was left was the unease that he brought to the office.
He was glad that Rosie wasn’t there, even if it meant that he had to make his own coffee, which for some reason was never as good as hers. He didn’t feel up to a glib interchange with her, which had pretty much become standard practice. After a few minutes sitting at his desk in his semidarkened office, the phone rang.
It was a callback from an occasional acquaintance who worked for the DEA. The conversation lasted less than ten minutes. Virgil apprised the agent of the transport of the last of the inventory from Hayward Trucking to the facility in Juárez for processing. He explained to him, relying on the information from Carlos, that with the last of the inventory down there, the facility in Redbud would be put in readiness for the new harvest while that last shipment down in Juárez would be processed and brought back for the final distribution of the old stock. Virgil called his attention to the particular trailer and what he suspected was a hidden compartment.
The agent responded that over the last couple of years, since the factory in Juárez was opened, there had been regular checks of the trailers and they had found nothing. He said canine units had been used regularly and had been all over them.
When Virgil finally replaced the phone, he was genuinely puzzled. In his own head, with the ongoing drug wars south of the river raging, he had convinced himself that the contraband was there in that compartment. The agent assured him that when the trailer was on its way back across the border with its next shipment, they would check it like it had never been checked before.
Virgil sat back in the chair, a cold mouthful of coffee finally swallowed. He had never wanted to believe that Micah Hayward was involved in the grisly string of murders along with drug smuggling, but the only evidence kept pointing back to Hayward Ranch. He sat staring at the stains on the old tin ceiling until he heard Rosie open the door.
“I don’t do ceilings,” she said. “Maybe sweep a little, make coffee. That’s it.”
“Sounds to me like you’re overpaid,” he said, smiling. “And there wasn’t any coffee. I had to make my own.”
“How’d that work out for you? Never too late for a learning experience.”
“It was awful. Tasted like wet socks.”
“Now you know why the county pays me the big bucks. I’ll make some fresh. Get rid of that taste in your mouth.”
Ten minutes later, Rosie was sitting across from Virgil. Each held a coffee mug in their hand.
“Just the smell was worth the wait,” Virgil said.
“What’s the matter, Virgil? You look like you need about a week of sleep. What’s got you up nights?”
Virgil put his cup on the desk. He knew Rosie wasn’t just prying. He had long since recognized that she had good instincts and he had used her as a sounding board more often than anyone.
“I don’t know, this whole thing seems to be centered around Hayward Ranch. It just doesn’t make sense. I’ve known Mike . . . Micah all my life. I can’t believe he’s in back of this.”
“Then don’t.”
Her abruptness caught him off guard. “But everything points . . .”
“Listen, Virgil, you are the most perceptive man I’ve ever known. The radar for most of you men only activates when something stirs in your pants. That includes the lovable guy I’ve been married to for over twenty-five years. But you, you have great instincts. If something is keeping you up nights, there’s a good reason. About the only time you’ve gotten off track was when your testosterone got the better of you. Even then, you aimed high. The prettiest girl from the wealthiest and most powerful family. It didn’t end good, but at least you passed on those good genes.”
Virgil sat up so quickly he bumped the desk and had to grab his mug to keep it from spilling into his lap.
“How do you . . . I mean, what?”
“Calm down, Virgil. I’ll explain. Years ago, before I came here I worked for Doc Ramsey. You remember Doc. He was a good man, old school, but solid as a rock and back then the only stork-helper in town. He probably delivered everybody in this town over twenty-one. Anyway, babies were more than a little on my mind because I had just found out I was pregnant with Dave junior. Babies were more than half of Doc’s practice. He got called out to Hayward Ranch that year a few times. At first it didn’t mean anything to me, because no one from there had come into the office. Then one day he got called out, and I was puzzled because by then Micah’s wife was in the institution and I knew he had put a call in to an obstetrician who was a specialist and a friend of his from medical school. When the specialist called back, I told him where Doc was and he said to call him back when he returned. Then he said to bring the patient as soon as he could to Phoenix. This was before Hayward Memorial was built. I told Doc when he returned from Hayward Ranch and that was the end of it. Except that two weeks later, Rusty died. You were away at college. Doc never said anything. Like I said, he was old school. He never discussed his patients or their problems, and by then I was getting bigger by the minute, so I had other things on my mind. Then I saw you and that young girl at Audrey’s funeral. I knew in an instant. She’s you and Rusty. Rusty’s hair
and coloring, but your face.”
A momentary quiet settled over the room.
“Virgil, why didn’t you ever say anything?”
“I never knew myself. Not until just before Audrey died. I don’t think I saw the girl three times in her life before the funeral. Who else knows? Dave? Dif?”
“Dif?” Rosie laughed. “God love him, but he doesn’t have enough sense to come in out of the rain. He’d never figure it out, nor would Dave, and I haven’t told either of them. As far as the other thing is concerned, if you can’t believe that Micah is at the root of these killings then he isn’t. Because you know it in your gut. We might be on opposite sides of the street, gender-wise, but we’re a lot alike and one thing we have in common is good instincts. So begin your search for an answer to this thing by excluding Micah, but don’t ignore him. He might be tied into this thing somehow and you’ll have to figure out how. You might begin by asking him.”
“Thanks, Rosie. I don’t think the county is paying you enough. From now on, forget the sweeping, but you still have to make the coffee. As far as that other thing is concerned . . .”
“Don’t worry, Virgil. I’d say it’s between you and me, but that’s not exactly the case and you and I know it. You’re going to have to decide what to do. I can’t help you with that.”
The phone rang. Rosie got up from her seat and went to her desk to answer it. Virgil sat mulling over her last comment.
“Virgil, it’s Jimmy. He wants to speak to you about the arrangements for bringing Carlos and his wife to Taxco.”
“Okay.” Virgil reached over and picked up his phone. “Listen, Jimmy, before we get into anything here, let me make a couple of calls and make sure everyone is on the same page. I’ll get back to you.”
After he hung up the phone, he sat for a moment alone. Rosie had gone into the cell block. Then he made a quick call to his counterpart in Taxco. He knew Edgar Quintillo personally. They had attended a cross-border conference years before and they had been in irregular contact since.