"You don't have to arrest him right now," Moon pleaded. "He needs to get back to the hospital and be with his daughter…"
Hoover's eyes were wild with fury. "Save it," he snapped. "Nobody takes a cheap shot at me and just walks away. But first, we'll turn this whole damn place upside down."
Moon looked glum. "Sorry, Gorman, but you've stepped in it. Give me your keys so we don't have to break your door." The rancher, who seemed stunned, stuck his hand into his pocket and produced a ring of keys that were snatched by Hoover, who disappeared into the house. The Ute turned to Parris. "I'll stash Gorman in the car."
Parris nodded. "I'll start on the garage."
"Charlie," Gorman said, "will you get somebody to go see Benita… tell her I… I'll get there as soon as I can?"
"Don't worry. I'll take care of it personally." Moon was helping Gorman into the rear seat of the squad car when Parris called from the garage. "That Nightbird fellow-any of his clothing ever turn up in the canyon?"
"Not much," Moon said, "you find something?"
Parris was leaning with his elbows on the tailgate of the GMC pickup. "You know what kind of boots Nightbird wore?"
"Sure," Moon said, "expensive ones. Must have had a dozen pairs. But his favorites were custom-made ostrich skin. Bought 'em in Tulsa, claimed they cost over a thousand bucks."
"I think you'd best have a look at this."
Moon leaned over the tailgate. There were four large blocks of salt. But among the tufts of straw and mud was a scattered assortment of clothing: rumpled jockey shorts and expensive gabardine trousers. There was also a pair of ostrich-skin cowboy boots.
Moon whistled. "Looks like Arlo's duds all right." The Ute shook his head in wonderment. "Gorman should have dumped that stuff by now. Old man must have scrambled eggs for brains."
"People who get hot enough to murder other people," Parris said, "sometimes aren't thinking too clearly. They're the ones we catch."
Moon turned to stare at Gorman, who was sitting with head bowed in the rear of the squad car. "I hate to admit it," the Ute said, "but it looks like J. E. Hoover was dead right on this one. Maybe," he said ruefully, "I'll learn something from the little banty rooster after all."
"I guess you'll want to break the news to the special agent," Parris said with a sly grin. "He'll be real pleased."
"I'm gonna go read Gorman his rights," Moon said. "You can tell Hoover what you found."
14
Moon turned right off of Main onto Park Avenue; he lifted his foot and allowed the Blazer to slow to the speed limit.
Parris glanced at his friend; the Ute had not spoken a word since they left Ignacio. "Something wrong, Charlie?"
Moon shifted his weight in the seat and found a more comfortable position. He watched a gigantic bank of heavy cumulus clouds roll eastward from Hesperus. "Don't much like hospitals." The Ute turned into the hospital parking lot.
"Know how you feel," Parris said. "I don't much like anything to do with sickness. One sight of a nurse with a big hypodermic and my belly button sucks in. This young lady," he asked, "she somebody special?"
Moon slammed the Blazer door. "Yeah." He stopped to look over the narrow-gauge railway at the churning waters of the Animas. A pair of buzzards circled lazily above a small island in the river.
A harried nurse with iron-gray hair and sore feet interrupted her work long enough to direct them to Benita's room in the 2E wing. Moon paused outside the door as a candy striper departed with a lunch tray that appeared to be untouched. He looked into the room and saw a small, thin man in a black suit holding Benita's hand as they prayed together. The policemen backed away until the pleas to God were complete. The priest eventually became aware of the policemen waiting in the hall. He left the sick room and shook the Ute's hand. "Charlie," he whispered, "Benita will be so pleased to see you!"
"Well," Moon said carefully, "I hope so." He nodded toward a brown paper parcel under his arm. "Gorman asked me to bring some of her stuff over."
The priest saw something on Moon's face he couldn't quite identify; he had never been able to get close to this big Ute. He held his hand out to Parris. "Who is your friend?"
"Meet my pardner, Scott Parris. He's top cop up at Granite Creek," Moon said, grinning. "But he's agreed to serve as my deputy for a few weeks." The acting chief of police grimaced; this was pretty close to the truth. They shook hands. "Father Raes," Moon added, "is the priest at the Catholic church in Ignacio."
"I've seen it. Nice looking church," Parris said lamely. "I'm not actually a Catholic, but…" His words, without support of thoughts, dropped off into oblivion.
"I could tell immediately," Raes said with a straight face. "We Catholics have a secret handshake, you see." The priest turned to Moon. "She's very ill… did Gorman tell you?"
"Said she had some kind of infection. But they have all kinds of wonder drugs for that, don't they?"
Raes looked toward the bed. "I understand the bugs are evolving faster than the antibiotics." He cocked his head to one side and considered Moon curiously. "I have more sick folk to see. Why don't you visit with Benita for a few minutes. I'll stop by later." It was the priest's way of respecting what smelled like police business.
Moon touched the brim of his hat in a sign of respect. "Thanks, Father. I'll only be a few minutes. My friend here," he nodded toward Parris, "likes hospitals, but they give me the spooks."
"May God bless and protect both of you." Raes patted Moon's arm and chuckled before he marched off down the hall to bring a touch of grace to another soul.
Parris followed Moon into Benita's room; the Ute pulled a light blue curtain that hid her from curious onlookers who passed in the hall. Except for shallow breaths, the girl was motionless. Like a doll decorating a bed. Her head was resting in a small depression in the center of the pillow. Of her delicate features, it was as if only her large brown eyes were alive. Her eyes smiled when she saw the big Ute. "Charlie…" she whispered dreamily, "Charlie Moon."
Moon knelt by the bed; Parris withdrew to a corner and tried, without success, to appear inconspicuous. Benita looked curiously at the stranger while Moon explained once more who his pardner was. The Ute's presence gradually infused a little strength into Benita's body. She tried, without success, to raise herself with an elbow. Moon pressed the buttons on the bed until she was elevated halfway to a sitting position. She put her hand on Moon's; Parris was certain that he saw the Ute tremble.
"I'm so weak," she said.
"Your daddy asked me to bring you some things." Moon placed the parcel on the bed. "It's your Bible and some… some stuff to wear."
Benita smiled at his reticence to mention her night clothes. "I hope Daddy is getting some sleep… He's been sitting up with me all day and night. He's so tired." A single tear made a wet trace down her cheek.
If he didn't tell her, someone else would. And the trouble her father was in would be greatly exaggerated by Ignacio gossip. If that was possible. Moon looked at the lamp above her head. "I got something to tell you… Benita." He wanted to say sweetheart, but the word hung in his throat. "Something about Gorman."
Benita's lustrous eyes widened in alarm. "Daddy… is he all right? Did he have an accident?"
Moon took both her hands in his and smiled weakly at her pretty face. "Oh, he's healthy enough. It's just that he's
… uh…" Moon looked at the wall behind the bed. "What it is," he sighed, "Gorman's in jail."
Benita made no sound when her lips formed the words: "Oh my God!" She found her voice. "Surely he didn't go back to…" Benita bit her lip.
"Now don't you worry. Didn't want to tell you, but you'd have found out anyway when he didn't show up."
Benita licked her dry lips. "Why… what did he do?"
"Well, it's up to a jury to decide whether he did anything."
"Charlie," she said with all the firmness she could muster, "what is Daddy charged with?"
"It looks like… they think…" Moon struggled to get the w
ords out, "he might have killed Arlo Nightbird."
She gasped and covered her mouth with her hand; Benita's frail body shook with sobs.
Moon turned to look imploringly at Scott Parris. "I've got to go outside… get a drink of water." The Ute hurried away. Parris pulled a chair up by the bedside. "We're really sorry to break this news about your father's troubles, Miss Sweetwater. I'm sure Charlie would have rather cut off his right arm than…"
Benita was dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. "I know. Tell me… why did they arrest my father? Why do they think he killed… Mr. Nightbird?"
"I really don't think this is the time to talk about that… When you're feeling better, then you can talk to your father. I'm sure this will all be worked out…"
Benita stared at him with her big eyes. Parris didn't want to feel her pain, but he couldn't look away. "You're Charlie's friend, aren't you?"
Parris barely whispered. "Yes. I am."
"I'm his friend too," she said. "So tell me what evidence they have against my father!" The logical element of her argument escaped him, but it was, nevertheless, irrefutable.
"Some of the victim's clothing," Parris said, "… was found in your father's truck."
Benita leaned back against the pillow and closed her eyes. "His clothes… in Daddy's pickup."
"Could be," Parris said gently, "there's some innocuous reason for the victim's clothes being in your father's truck." That sounded stupid. "I'm sure he'll get a fair hearing___"
"Sure he will," the girl said softly. "And the stars are frozen tears that angels wept." Benita was silent for some time. She finally opened her eyes and focused on the cracks in the plastered ceiling. "Call Charlie. I want him here-right away. And," she said, "there's one other thing."
Parris leaned over the bed expectantly. "Yes… and what's that?"
"I want you here too. I have something to say, and I want Charlie to have a witness."
Scott Parris found Charlie Moon sitting in a waiting room; the Ute was rubbing his eyes.
"She wants you, right now." Paris waited and got no response. "Let's go, Charlie."
Moon got to his feet slowly, with all the enthusiasm of a man being escorted to the gallows.
Moon sat in the chair at Benita's right hand; Parris stood on the other side of the bed, wondering what was going to happen. She looked at Moon through her tears. "I want to make a statement."
Parris dug into his coat pocket and found his microcas-sette recorder. He didn't have a spare tape, but it would be easy enough to make another recording of "The Shooting of Dan McGrew." The tape hadn't been much help anyway. He couldn't get past "Were you ever out in the Great Alone, when the moon was awful clear…" Here, in this stark hospital room, he felt the presence of the Great Alone. Hovering. Parris held the recorder up for Benita to see. "Okay if I use this?"
She nodded. Moon watched the proceedings blankly; he felt like a bystander. Parris pushed the record button and spoke slowly. He stated his name and the date. He glanced at his wristwatch. "It's about twenty past two p.m. I'm at
Mercy Medical Center in Durango with Officer Charlie Moon. We're visiting a patient, Miss Benita Sweetwater, who has asked to make a statement. She has agreed to have the statement recorded." He clipped the miniature microphone onto her hospital gown. "That right, young lady?"
"Yes," she said hoarsely, "I want to make a statement."
"You understand," Parris said gently, "that your father… Gorman Sweetwater has been arrested for the murder of Arlo Nightbird?"
"Daddy didn't do it," she said firmly.
Scott Parris briefly locked eyes with Moon. The Ute clearly didn't like this development.
"You understand," Parris said, "that anything you say may be used to…"
Moon raised a hand and nodded. Parris started to protest, then clamped his mouth shut. The Ute didn't want anything Benita might say to be admissible in any future legal proceedings against her. It was, at the very least, sloppy police work. At most it was a decision that could cost Moon his job. But this was the Ute's territory. And it was clear that this was a very special young woman.
Benita watched them with a curious expression. "You want to know how it happened?"
"Sure we do," Parris said. "Tell us whatever you know." She closed her eyes; Parris wondered if she was remembering. Or fabricating.
"I've lost track of time. I think it was Wednesday afternoon. It looked like rain and the stock in Canon del Espiritu needed some salt blocks. You know… Daddy's Herefords?"
"I know about your father's cattle," Parris said.
"Daddy has tendonitis in his shoulders; it started acting up before the rain came. He was hurting real bad. I decided to take the salt up to the canyon myself." She paused to gasp a breath. "The blocks… they were already in the pickup, all I had to do was open the tailgate and shove them out."
"Remember what time you left?"
"Not really… but it was about the time the rain started. It was a hard rain." She fell silent, picturing the drops pelting the pickup, the wipers smearing an oily film across the windshield.
"Then what happened?" Parris asked.
"I was nearly there…" Benita opened her eyes. "I saw his convertible, off the road… on the shoulder. It was raining, but he had the top down and was just standing there with his hands in his pockets. Looked real pitiful. I felt sorry for him."
Who did you see?" Parris leaned over to speak into the microphone.
"Mr. Nightbird. Arlo Nightbird. I stopped and asked if he needed any help. He said his car was running hot and out of water, said he needed a ride back to Ignacio. He was wet and cold."
"And you gave him a ride?"
"I told him I had to drop off the salt blocks for the stock in the canyon, but I'd pick him up on the way out. He said he'd have pneumonia by then, so I said 'get in.' When he got inside the pickup, I smelled the whiskey on him. Told him I couldn't give him a ride when he was drinking, then he said he'd ride in the back of the truck."
"He got in the back?"
"Yes. He laid down on the straw." Benita paused to gather what remained of her strength. Beads of perspiration dotted her forehead. "I thought he'd sleep it off, so I drove into the canyon and found the cattle. When I got in the back of the truck and opened the tailgate, he got up and… and…" She stopped and grimaced at the memory.
"Benita," Parris urged gently, "tell me exactly what he did… I know this is hard, but don't leave anything out."
"Mr. Nightbird," she said, "had already pulled off his boots. Then… he took off his pants."
"Did he say anything?"
"Yes," she shuddered, "he said he'd had his eye on me for a long time. Said he hadn't…"-she glanced at Parris who ducked his head in embarrassment for her-"he said he hadn't had himself a 'cherry' for a month of Sundays."
Moon groaned and hid his face in his giant hands. "What did you do?"
"I got mad… told him to get out of the truck. He pulled a knife… said he'd cut me up if I didn't… cooperate. I guess that's when I tried to run away."
"He chase after you?"
Benita sobbed. "Yes. He caught me and ripped my blouse. I tried to kick him between his legs and he fell down and held onto my ankle. He got mad then, and that's when he did it."
"When he did whatT'
"When he cut me."
Moon was stunned. "He cut you?"
"On my leg… right here." She pointed toward her swollen left thigh. "It hurt and it bled, but not too much. I guess it got infected… I don't want them to take my leg off."
Moon stared at the tape recorder, as if it were an intrusion into what should have been a very private conversation.
Parris nodded at the girl. "Go on."
"I got away again and ran down to the creek bed. There was already some water in it from the rain. I slipped on a rock and fell in the water. Mr. Nightbird, he jumped on top of me-he was so heavy. Then, that's when I did it."
"You did what?"
"Hit him."
/> Parris grinned with delight. "You hit the son of a… you hit him?"
"With a rock I found on the ground. He fell to one side. I was running back to the road, and he was coming after me, but he was staggering. I sprained my ankle, then I knew I couldn't get away. I stopped and waited for him… I still had that rock in my hand. When he got close, I hit him again, real hard. I heard the bone in his head crack and he fell down and dropped his knife. I knew he wouldn't hurt me anymore. Then I got in the truck and drove home."
"There's something I need to ask you about, Benita."
Parris searched for the right words. "Something about Mr. Nightbird's body…"
She didn't hear the matukach policeman. "When I got home, my leg was hurting something awful." Her voice was weakening; she was a little girl lost in a bad dream. "Daddy saw the blood running down my leg and started yelling. I told him Mr. Nightbird done it… that I'd hit him in the head with a rock… then… then…" Benita's head rolled to one side. At this instant, a nurse entered with a tray of instruments and a paper cup with two tiny yellow pills inside.
"Oh," she stage-whispered, "I hope you won't disturb her, she needs to sleep."
Parris pocketed the tape recorder. "Wouldn't dream of it."
Moon gave the nurse his parcel. "I'm a friend of the family; just came by to drop off some of her things."
The nurse unwrapped the package and began to store the night-clothes in a cabinet. She paused as she saw the red Bible. "Oh," she said, "poor little thing's been asking for this. Thank you so much." The nurse turned to look at Moon. "She's been asking for her father too; they're absolutely devoted to one another. Do you know when he'll be back?"
Parris rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "That," he said, "is hard to say."
Moon leaned with his hands on the window frame. There was no earth, no sky. The rain fell straight down, through a still gray fog. He could barely see the bank of the Rio De Los Animas Perditas-the River of Lost Souls.
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