Big Sky Lawman

by Marilyn Pappano

  “Can we turn on the red lights?” Homer asked. “Can we turn on the si-rene?”

  “Sorry, Homer, not this time.” Sloan sounded subdued.

  “Is this here your shotgun? You gonna take it with us in case we run into that alien agin?”

  “I thought you only saw aliens at night.”

  “Heck fire, you can see ’em any time they wanna be seen. They ain’t like vampires or bats. Them’re the creatures ‘at only come out at night.”

  Crystal blocked out the conversation that followed and concentrated on breathing. If she wasn’t careful, she would hyper-ventilate before they even got to the woods. But maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Maybe it would give Sloan a good scare and force him to return her home.

  But no such luck. Before she was ready, Homer pointed with one bony finger. “Right back in there’s where the alien tried to git me,” he said, and Sloan brought the Jeep to a stop.

  “Let’s walk up in there so you can show us exactly where. Do you remember?”

  The old man puffed up. “’Course I ‘member. Not likely to forget a terrifyin’ sight like that, I’m not.”

  Sloan backed up thirty feet, pulled onto the side of the road and shut off the engine. He and Homer climbed out, but Crystal remained where she was until Sloan came around and opened the door. “Care to join us?” he asked stiffly.

  “I thought I’d wait here. I don’t do mind-melds with aliens. You’ll have to find some other freak for that.”

  He looked neither amused nor patient. Without waiting for another invitation, she got out and followed Homer into the woods. If the old man was following a trail, she couldn’t see it, and she couldn’t match his pace. Half-buried boulders that he scrambled right up required more energy and effort from her, and the worn soles of her tennis shoes slipped on pine needles and moss.

  After a thirty-minute hike that left her breathless, Homer came to a stop in a large clearing, looked around, then grinned. “Right here it was. I was comin’ from my cabin over that way, and I come outta the woods over there, and the alien was standing right about there.” With big, ungainly hands, he gestured wildly in various directions. “The moon was shining right bright, an’ the first thing I seen were its eyes… Oh, Lord, them eyes!” His voice dropped into a low moan, and he clamped his hands over his own eyes as if to block out the sight.

  “What was the alien doing when you first saw it?” Sloan asked. There was no hint in his voice that he found the story utterly bizarre. He sounded serious, a true believer.

  Just as he’d sounded when he’d questioned her.

  Homer removed one hand from one eye to gesture again. “It were over there behind them rocks. Doin’ what, I couldn’t tell.”

  Sloan started toward the rocks, and Crystal and Homer followed as if they had no choice.

  “When it saw me,” Homer went on, “it raised up big and fierce and come at me with its ray-gun, and them evil, soulless eyes, they was tryin’ to bore a hole right through me. Some of ’em can do that, y’know. Laser vision. That’s what they call it.”

  Crystal stepped around the largest boulder, rested her hand on it and suddenly shivered. “It was a shovel,” she whispered.

  Sloan, bent over to examine the ground, whirled around to stare at her. Old Homer threw back his head and laughed. “’Tweren’t no shovel, girl. Looked like it, is all.” He leaned close to her and said in exaggerated tones, “It’s called camouflage. They travel across the universe in spaceships. D’y’think they cain’t disguise their ray-guns as shovels?” Shaking his head, he went on. “Silly girl don’t know nothin’ ’bout aliens. Alien try to capture her, wouldn’t even be no contest. ’Course, Martians wouldn’t have her. They got no patience for foolishness. The Venusians, on the other hand, they like pretty things so’s maybe they wouldn’t mind so much, but…”

  Ignoring him, Sloan stood and took a few steps toward Crystal. Her face was pale, and she looked as if she were in pain. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and hold her until that look was gone, wanted to take her back to the Jeep and back to her aunt’s and spend the rest of his life making things right with her. Of course, he did neither. He stopped some distance away and asked, “Are you all right?”

  She ignored the question. “It was a shovel, and it wasn’t Christina.”

  “Do you know who it was?”

  “No.”

  “Can you see anything?”

  “No.”

  “Can you tell—”

  “No.” Jerking her hand away from the boulder, she rubbed her temples, then walked away. Twenty feet later she sat on a rock, brought her knees up and huddled into a tight ball.

  Sloan watched her for a moment before reluctantly shifting his attention to Homer. The old man was rambling on in a singsong voice and moving his thin, gangly body in an aimless, arrhythmic dance. Harmless or not, the old guy was crazy. Would it really be so bad for him to be locked up in a mental institution? To have someone to look after him and keep him safe? To get treatment that might help him become again the sane, rational man he’d once been?

  Quit dancing around like that old man and get to the real question that’s bugging you, Sloan silently admonished himself. The question he was ashamed to put into words.

  Was saving Homer worth losing Crystal?

  He wanted to say no and believe it, but he couldn’t lie to himself. Homer was crazy, not guilty, not dangerous. He loved these woods, loved his freedom to come and go as he pleased. As long as he could take care of himself, as long as he wasn’t causing anyone else any harm, he should be allowed to live the way he wanted. He shouldn’t be confined, restrained, medicated.

  And if Sloan really had lost Crystal over this… He would be better off without her, because she couldn’t possibly be the woman he’d thought she was. If he lost her because of this, he’d be a lucky man to have found out the truth before he’d done something foolish such as persuade her to marry him.

  But he didn’t feel lucky. He felt as if his whole life had gone straight to hell, and he didn’t know how to get it back.

  So he would concentrate on work instead. Turning his back on both of them, he wandered around the rocks, looking for footprints, signs of digging, anything to suggest that Homer’s alien was flesh and bone.

  He found it a few yards away—extensive digging. Under the circumstances, his first thought was that the overturned dirt was a grave, but the disturbed earth didn’t appear large enough to conceal a body, not even one as petite as Christina’s. No, it looked as if the alien had been searching for something. But what? Hidden treasure? The proceeds of an earlier robbery? A mysterious fortune?

  Anything was possible. A criminal hiding his loot to protect it in case he was caught wasn’t unusual. Hadn’t he sat out in the woods a week or two ago awaiting the return of just such a crook? And who hadn’t heard stories of eccentric people dying in poverty on a mattress stuffed with a fortune in cash? Hell, for all he knew, old Homer could be richer than sin and keeping it all in Mason jars buried around these hills.

  He returned to the clearing, where Crystal was trying with little success to persuade Homer to stay there. “Let him go,” he said as he approached them.

  She released the old man’s arm, and he wandered off, jabbering nonsense.

  “His cabin’s not far from here. He knows his way home.” Sloan stopped near her, but not near enough. “You were right. Someone was digging back there. I don’t have any idea why. Do you?”

  She shook her head without looking at him.

  “Crystal—”

  “Now what?” she interrupted. “Look around here? Or head for the clearing?”

  He kept the great, frustrated sigh to himself and answered her in a flat voice. “Let’s look around here.”

  Searching a heavily wooded area was a job that called for a lot more manpower than the two of them could provide. A person could pass within a few yards of someone else and not see him. The kind of clues they were most likely to
find—threads from clothing snagged on a branch, something small enough to drop unnoticed, signs of a struggle, even, God forbid, a newborn’s grave—could be easily overlooked amid the rocks, brush, canyons and hills.

  By midafternoon, they’d found nothing but a couple more sites where Homer’s alien had been digging. Crystal had walked through and around them, but she’d picked up nothing new. Sloan supposed that was the way it worked. Sometimes the visions or the knowledge came, and sometimes they didn’t.

  Kind of like life, where sometimes an intelligent person believed what was before her eyes, and sometimes she didn’t.

  “Want to break for lunch?” he asked.

  She shook her head.

  It was just as well. He didn’t think he could stomach food just now.

  They searched for another two hours and covered maybe four more acres before he called it quits. Instead of trying to retrace their steps, they headed east until they hit the dead-end road that led to the clearing, then walked back to his Jeep in silence.

  They made the drive back to the Stop-n-Swap in silence, too. The instant the Jeep came to a stop, Crystal jumped out and headed for the trailer. Sloan got out, too, debating whether to follow her, to try to talk some sense into her, or to just go home and forget this day from hell. Before he could decide, Winona came out of the shop.

  “Find anything?”

  He shook his head.

  “Did she have a bad time out there?”

  He gave the old woman a bitter smile. “Only because she was with me. We didn’t go to the clearing. We’ll do that tomorrow.”

  “She’s angry with you.”

  “I made her a promise, and I broke it. She thinks that means I’m like James.”

  “That’s ridiculous. Homer’s life is at stake! You have no choice!”

  “Convince her of that, would you?”

  Winona sighed, and for the first time that he’d known her, he thought she looked her age. “Then I guess you won’t be staying for my beef stew and cobbler.”

  “No, ma’am. I’m going to head home and have a hot shower and a cold beer.” Maybe two or six or eight of ’em. However many it took to get the hurt in Crystal’s eyes out of his mind.

  “Don’t go do anything rash, Sloan. Give her some time. She’s hurting, but she’ll get over it. She’ll see reason. Just don’t go do anything to make it worse.”

  “What do you think I might do?” he asked sarcastically. “Find another woman to ease the pain?”

  She shrugged. “That’s the solution to every problem for a lot of men.”

  “Miz Cobbs—Winona, I’m in love with your niece, and if we get through this, I fully intend to marry her and spend the rest of my life with her—though I’d prefer you not say anything to her about that before I get the chance to. I’m not interested in other women. I would never do that to her.” He gave a rueful shake of his head. “You Cobbs women don’t think too highly of me, do you?”

  She had the courtesy to blush. “I fear we’ve judged you by other men’s behavior. I do apologize, Sloan. I won’t make that mistake again.”

  He acknowledged that with a nod, then climbed into the Jeep. “Tell Crystal I’ll pick her up around nine tomorrow morning.”

  “I will. And, Sloan? Thank you.”

  He didn’t ask for what. He just nodded, closed the door and drove away.

  Ten

  Crystal locked herself in the bathroom for a long soak in a hot tub and refused to get out until the water had gone cold and there was none left in the hot water tank to replace it. After dressing for bed, she wrapped her robe around her, then curled up under the covers with nothing exposed but her nose and eyes.

  She didn’t have any tears to cry, which came as a surprise. If asked to predict her own behavior once she was away from Sloan, she would have guessed tears until her nose was stuffy, then a pig-out on Winona’s cobbler and the half gallon of vanilla ice cream in the freezer, followed by more tears and self-pity.

  But she was dry-eyed as she lay there. And empty. And soul-tired. She wanted to sleep for four or five days, wanted to wake up to a whole new world, one where she had no powers for people to take advantage of. A world where she would never forget that people betrayed the people foolish enough to trust them. Simple rule. Easy to remember. But it had brought her heartache too many times.

  There was a knock at the door, but she ignored it. It wasn’t so easy, though, to ignore the overhead light when Winona switched it on, or her aunt’s round, concerned face peering at her from the side of the bed.

  “No tears. That’s a good sign.” Winona plopped down onto the floor. “If I’d behaved the way you did today, I’d hide my head under the covers, too. You should be ashamed of yourself, Crystal.”

  If Crystal’s own reaction to her heartache surprised her, Winona’s left her speechless. She emerged from the covers to stare at her aunt.

  “Yes, dear, I said ashamed. You heard right, so close your mouth. Do you realize what you were asking of that young man? That he choose between his principles and you. That he turn his back on the job he’s taken an oath to perform, and on an innocent man whom he’s sworn to protect. Poor Homer could be locked away for the rest of his life when he’s done nothing wrong, and you’d rather see that happen than get involved with this investigation. You’d prefer that Sloan let an innocent man’s life be destroyed rather than break a silly promise to you that he never should have been forced to make.”

  Feeling vulnerable because she couldn’t argue those points adequately, Crystal sat up. It didn’t help much, though, because Winona immediately moved to sit on the bed so they were on the same level. “It doesn’t matter whether the promise was silly,” Crystal said primly. “The fact is he lied to me. He swore on his honor that he wouldn’t ask for my help, and he lied to me.”

  “He didn’t lie. The circumstances changed.”

  “It was a simple promise—”

  “A foolish promise, born of his desire to be with you.”

  “—and he broke it. If he can’t keep the simple promises, how in hell can I expect him to keep the ones that matter?”

  Winona looked at her for a long time, her expression somber and the slightest bit disapproving. “Perhaps you could start by acting like a mature adult instead of a hurt little child. In your heart, you know that breaking his promise was the right thing—the only thing he could do. You would have lost all respect for him if he didn’t do everything in his power to help Homer. He had no choice, and you know it, and yet you’re blaming him anyway.”

  I can’t win for losing, Sloan had said, and the look in his eyes had been bitterly disappointed. I’m damned if I do, and damned if I don’t.

  “The mature thing for you to have done was to release him from that promise. You should have offered your help instead of making him ask for it. In your heart, you know that, too.”

  The last of Crystal’s bravado slipped away, leaving her shoulders rounded, her head bowed. She did know Winona was right, and Sloan was right. Circumstances had left him no choice but to break his promise, but she’d had a choice. As her aunt had pointed out, she could have released him from the vow, could have volunteered her help. Instead, she’d put him in a situation where he was damned if he asked and damned if he didn’t.

  She was ashamed of herself. And frightened by the thought of the harm she might have done. Angry with herself for being so selfish. And yet still hurt that, when forced to make a choice, he hadn’t chosen her. Just once in her life she wanted someone to choose her.

  Reaching out to clasp her hand, Winona softened her voice. “As you said yourself, it was a simple promise,” she said gently. “Are you willing to lose a good and honorable man over something so foolish?”

  She didn’t want to answer, but she couldn’t help it. “No,” she whispered.

  “Then go see him. Tell him you’re sorry. Tell him you respect his honor and his willingness to do the right thing, no matter how painful it was for him.” Winona
chucked her under the chin, forcing her to look up, then smiled. “Tell him you love him.”

  There was one thing he wanted to hear more than that, Crystal thought—that she trusted him. And she did, or the whole incident this morning wouldn’t have been so difficult for her. She’d come to believe that he was, indeed, a man of his word, that he was honorable, that he would never let her down. She’d believed that, unlike James, she could trust Sloan with her heart, her body, her life, and he would never give her reason to regret it.

  Slowly she pushed the covers back and swung her feet to the floor. Before heading to the closet, though, she bent to hug her aunt. “Thank you.”

  “My motives are quite selfish, actually. I never had any children of my own, and so I can never have grandchildren. But I think great-great-nieces and-nephews are surely the next best thing, and I couldn’t pick a better father for them than Sloan Ravencrest. Besides, the boy’s in love with you. You’re in love with him. Go be happy together instead of moping apart.” Winona walked as far as the door, then turned back with a lascivious grin. “Don’t worry about getting the truck back before morning. I’m not planning on going anywhere.”

  Crystal changed into jeans and a sweater, ran a brush through her hair and did a quick makeup job. For a moment she hesitated, then removed the ring from her index finger and tossed it on the dresser. Within five minutes she was walking out the front door…to as far as the porch. There she turned back. “What if he doesn’t want—”

  Winona interrupted her, making shooing motions with both hands. “He wants. Trust me.” Then she added, “Trust yourself, Crystal. Trust your heart.”

  Trust yourself. She hadn’t done that in a long time. The idea was scary, and enticing and full of promise.

  Her aunt’s truck was ancient, but reliable. She made the trip into town in good time, but when she reached Sloan’s apartment complex, there was no sign of his truck in the parking lot. A drive by the sheriff’s department turned up nothing more than his Jeep, parked in the back lot in its usual space, so at least he wasn’t working late. She drove past the Rawlings’s house, the Hip Hop Café and Neela’s restaurant, all with no luck.