by Frank Hayes
“It’ll do for the night.” His words in the semi-darkened quiet hung in the air. He threw a few more logs on the fire, then threw in the ragged blanket he had put to one side before starting the fire. It caught immediately, flaring up and disappearing in the flame in seconds. He had found a tin filled with beeswax and a thick wick. Lighting the homemade candle, he set it on the table then ate a cold supper. He thought about getting water from the old pump then gave it up as a bad idea. The wind was still calling. There was no moon. The likelihood of getting back from the pump in the pitch dark with water and body intact was slim. Besides, he was warm and comfortable, so he reached back into his saddlebag, took out a pint bottle that Clara had slipped in there and unscrewed the cap.
After a while, as he sat gazing into the flames, listening to the fire hiss and crackle as it discovered hidden pockets of moisture in the wood, the thought came to him that since he left the ranch house, he hadn’t thought about the trauma he had left behind or what he would be facing on his return. He realized again that Cesar and Clara’s advice was insightful. A kind of calm had restored him. It didn’t change reality but gave him a little more ability to face it. He reached into his pocket and took out his phone, then pressed the On button. The artificial light came on. He saw that it was a little after seven. He tapped the face, then Contacts, watching the list of numbers come up. He tapped Home then held the phone to his ear, waiting for the ring.
“Hello, Virgil. Is Grandpa’s cabin still standing?”
“Sure is holes in the walls and all. A little patchwork and it will be good for another hundred years. Any messages or calls from the office?” Jessica Allison. At first the name meant nothing to him. Then Jessie. The memory of standing outside the office of the sand and gravel company looking into those blue eyes came back to him, reminding him in the darkness of the little cabin that he was Virgil Dalton, a man still alive and the sheriff of Hayward. Tomorrow he would return, say goodbye to Dave, then pick up the pieces he had left behind.
Chapter 28
“Jimmy, is Mr. Summers going to jail for a long time?”
“Probably the rest of his life, Abby.”
“Do you think he meant to kill Mr. Brand?”
“Don’t think it makes much difference. He had a gun. Even if he didn’t do it on purpose, he brought the weapon. So to my way of thinking, he has to accept the responsibility for what happened. You know we all got to be responsible for what we do. Guess that’s what Sheriff Dalton would call a life lesson.”
“You really like Sheriff Dalton, don’t you?”
Jimmy looked at Abby his young sister, who was sitting at the kitchen table doing her homework.
“Yeah. I really do.”
“Why?”
“Well, I guess it’s because I figure he saved me from myself. He helped me to become a better person.”
“I think you were always a good person, Jimmy.”
“Well, Ab. For a while there, it could have gone either way. Virgil, I mean the sheriff, got a hold of me before I did anything too stupid. That’s why, when you think I’m bugging you, that’s what I’m trying to do for you. Keep you from doing something so stupid that it messes up your life. Seen a lot of people do that.”
“You don’t have to worry about me, Jimmy. I ain’t near as stupid as you were.” Abby put her hand to her mouth. “I mean because you were always there. I didn’t do anything too stupid.”
“Good save, Abby.” Jimmy smiled.
“I’m glad you’re smiling again, Jimmy.”
“Yeah, well, it’s been pretty hard to find something to smile about lately.” Abby didn’t say anything. Just then Mrs. Tillman came into the kitchen.
“It’s all done, Jimmy. Cleaned and ironed. You are going to look real nice.” She held up Jimmy’s uniform.
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Am I going to Simpson’s, Mom?” Abby asked.
“No, honey. I don’t think so.”
“Why not? I went when Grandma died.”
“I know. But this is different. This isn’t the natural order of things. You’ve got plenty of time to find out how mean the world can be. Let’s not rush it.”
Jimmy took his uniform and went into his bedroom. After a few minutes he returned to the kitchen, buttoning one of his cuffs.
“Mom’s right, Jimmy, you look real nice.”
Mrs. Tillman brushed something from her eyes.
“You okay, Mom? What’s the matter?”
She waved her hand.
“Oh, it’s nothing, Jimmy.”
“Ma, are you crying? What is it?”
“Mommy, tell us,” Abby pleaded.
“It’s just, it could have been you, Jimmy. It could be you, lying there in Simpson’s. I just never thought . . . Oh, Jimmy, I know our life wasn’t easy when you were growing up. I mean, I wasn’t always the best mom. I tried, Jimmy, I really did . . . did the best I could. But these last few years have been so much better. It’s because of you. Me and Abby have been, are, so proud of you, what you’ve become. Just this morning a woman I hardly know came up to me in the store, telling me how everyone was talking about you. The wonderful job you did, how you stayed with Mr. Brand until he passed. How the sheriff said he couldn’t have done any better. I was so proud. Then the lady said it could have been you. When she walked away, I just stood there. That’s when it hit me. I started shaking so hard I had to hold on to the shopping cart to keep from falling.”
Jimmy could see the anguish. He went to her, wrapping her in his arms.
“Mom, it’s okay. You did a great job with me and that little knucklehead over there. We always had a roof over our heads, our bellies were full and we had a soft bed to sleep in, because you were usually working two jobs. Now I’m helping to make things a little better for you. It’s called payback. The sheriff has trained me well. Oh, sure, I know there’s danger, but I try to be as careful as I can be. Besides, I’m tough. I mean, people falling out of the sky can’t even take me out. Don’t worry. What happened to Dave shouldn’t have happened but he didn’t know what he was walking into.” Jimmy walked her to the table, then sat her down. “Now, why don’t you sit over a hot cup of tea while Abby tries to figure out what two plus two adds up to, because I’ve got to get over to Simpson’s. After a little while, when you are feeling better, you come over. Then we can come home together later.” He leaned over, gave his mom a quick kiss, then reached over to pinch Abby’s cheek and left.
• • •
Jimmy stepped outside of the trailer that he, his mom and Abby called home. The cold of the early January day didn’t touch him but there was a cold from deep inside that did. He had been putting up a good front but the brief moment with his mother had his insides in a knot. It wasn’t that what she had told him was some sort of revelation. He knew what being a member of law enforcement was all about. At least he thought he did until now. The woman who had come off the overpass in the middle of the night months before while he was doing a nightly patrol, crashing through his windshield, ultimately putting him in the hospital, had shaken him. For the first time in his life, he had come face-to-face with his own mortality. It threw him back on his haunches. Ultimately, though, it became part of his own personal learning curve, helping him to take a giant step away from his boyhood.
Up until that time, he had felt a rung or two down the ladder in his dealings with the adults in his world. In reality, he realized for the first time that he was inviting that perception. To a certain extent, that notion had been validated with the arrival of Simon. Simon was no kid and no one treated him like one. He saw it right away. Virgil, Rosie, Dif, everyone spoke to him and of him as an equal. There was a certain nuance that he had picked up on that was different from the way they spoke to him. He was Jimmy, the kid from town who they had all taken under their wing. He had always looked at Vigil as the father he wanted but never had. He was realizing that on some level the relationship had been reciprocal with Virgil and through his fostering wit
h the others. It had been very comforting for a long time, but he was no longer the kid being picked up off the ground by the sheriff in back of Talbot’s hardware store with a bloodied nose. He was no longer the kid who clung to Virgil and to the others who had reached into his life with caring and love. It was Dave, bloodied and dying in his arms, who finally propelled Jim into the manhood that was his destiny. That cold he felt deep inside, as he stood by the car outside of the trailer, was not just because of the death of Dave but of the boy he was leaving behind.
Chapter 29
Virgil pulled into the parking lot at the back of Simpson’s Funeral Home. There were no other cars in the parking area. He had come before any of the other mourners, even before Rosie and her children got there. He knew he was early. He had counted on it. The back door was locked so he rang the bell. He rang a second time. Just as he was getting ready to ring again, the door slowly opened.
“Hello, Boots.” The man he greeted was reed thin, tall and bald. Virgil had known him all his life. Virgil glanced down at the highly polished boots he wore, which had given him the only name most people knew him by.
“Hello, Virgil.” Virgil stepped inside. “You know regular viewing won’t start for another hour.”
“I know,” Virgil said. “But I need some private time with Dave.”
The old man, who wore every bit of his eighty some odd years lined deeply in his face, looked at Virgil through clear, brown eyes.
“I understand.” He turned and Virgil followed him down a long hall. They stopped at the arched doorway of a room that was all too familiar to Virgil. Then they passed up the aisle between the rows of chairs that would shortly be filled, until they reached the closed casket that sat surrounded by the floral displays that had literally emptied out Kleman’s Florist Shop. The perfume was overpowering. Virgil coughed twice.
“Yes,” the tall man said. He left Virgil’s side, went over to the wall facing the street, then opened the broadside of four huge windows, which bowed the wall into an angled alcove around an upholstered window seat that looked out on Main Street. He returned with the cold breeze that lifted the curtains and freshened the room. “I should have done that earlier.” He stood next to Virgil alongside the coffin. “A decision has been made by Miss Rosita to leave it closed for the public viewing.” Virgil nodded. Then the tall man stepped forward, reached out, raised the lid, then stepped back next to Virgil. He looked at Virgil, his brown eyes betraying nothing. He nodded when he saw Virgil take in a deep breath and left the room.
For a long moment, Virgil stood rooted to his spot. At last he took two steps forward. He was flooded with emotion. He looked down on Dave Brand, a man who had been part of his life all of his life. He tried to speak but he was struggling for his words. He took another deep breath before his next attempt.
“I am so, so sorry, Dave. I . . . I had no choice. I had to let Cecil go. I never thought . . .” The words hung in the air. Virgil reached forward, put his hand on Dave’s shoulder. “I will never forget what I owe you. I promise that I will be there for Rosie and the new baby for as long as I live.” He squeezed his hand until he could feel Dave’s body beneath the fabric that he wore. He stood for another minute in total silence. Then he turned and left the room.
Chapter 30
The wind that blew on the high ridges above the ranch where Virgil had been before Dave’s wake and funeral continued to blow for the next three days. But by the third day, there had been a subtle change. The sky had clouded over. Moisture had also crept in on a change of wind direction. Virgil noted it as he stood with half the town as Dave was lowered into the ground. He felt if numbers counted for anything at a time like this, Rosie could take some solace in the fact that Dave had left his mark. One of the Simpson brothers had told him the night before they hadn’t had a turnout like Dave’s in the previous ten years. He looked around at the gathered mourners, ranging from town officials to state police, along with people representing every aspect of Hayward society. Cowhands he’d seen wrangling cattle down at Luther’s stockyard in Redbud standing alongside shopkeepers and staff from the hospital. Dave and Rosie had thrown a wide net. Lastly, his eyes came to rest on Rosie and her family standing by the open grave, clinging so close they appeared as one. It did not escape his notice that Rosie was comforting her children. It was not a surprise. As he was leaving the cemetery a little while later, Mayor Bob Jamison caught up with him.
“How are you doing, Virgil?”
“I’ve had better days, Bob.”
“Guess we’ve got to have a sit-down pretty soon. There’s quite a bit we have to talk about.”
“Yes, Dave has left a huge hole, but there is a lot more than filling Dave’s slot that we have to talk about.”
“How is the new man, Simon, working out?”
“Simon seems to be fitting in nicely, but as I said, this talk is going to have to be a lot more wide-ranging than a replacement for Dave Brand. The county is growing and changing. We need to address that.”
“Well, the town council . . .” Virgil held up his hand.
“Listen, Ears, there are people on that council who are looking at Hayward through forty-year-old glasses. What they see doesn’t exist anymore. Dave’s death ought to drive that notion home. If it doesn’t, I intend to, and I hope you relay that at your next meeting.”
“Are you going to be in the office tomorrow?”
“I’m going to be in the office in ten minutes. That’s exactly what I’m trying to get across to you. This ain’t a once in a while job anymore. For quite some time now I realize that we have been like the song says, running on empty, and that’s just to stay in place. That’s got to change or you are going to have to get someone else to do this job. I’m not about to risk people’s lives because the town council wants to live in the past.” Virgil had reached his vehicle. He opened the door then turned to face the mayor. “Anything you want to say, Bob?”
“Guess we just had our sit-down, Virgil. For what it’s worth, I just want you to know I’m going to deliver your message at the meeting next Monday with one addition.”
“And what would that be?” Virgil asked.
“That if things don’t change, in addition to looking for a new sheriff, they are going to be looking for a new mayor. You take care, Virgil. You are one of my favorite people.” Then he turned and walked away.
Chapter 31
He heard a voice on the other end after the third ring.
“Mesquite Sand and Gravel.” There followed a litany of options. Virgil waited until he heard the extension for Human Resources then he punched in the number.
“Jessica Allison, how may I help you?”
“Virgil Dalton, Miss Allison . . . Jessie. Sorry I couldn’t get back to you sooner but I haven’t been in the office for the last couple of days, but I did get the message that you called.”
“I’m afraid you are mistaken. I didn’t call you.”
Virgil was puzzled by her response.
“You didn’t? Guess I got the wrong information.”
“Well, it happens. Goodbye.”
Virgil was even more perplexed by the dismissive note in her voice. He placed the phone in the cradle then sat back in his chair. He thought there had been something of a connection between them.
“Guess I’m not the stud I thought I was,” he said to the empty room. He spent a few moments trying to read between the lines. He came up empty, so he pulled a pile of paperwork over to begin the process of catch-up. An hour later, when Simon came into the office, he asked him about the call.
“No, Sheriff. It wasn’t Dif who took the call. It was me. I took that call. That was her name, I’m sure. Hold on, she gave me the number. I have it right here. He picked up the phone on the table that he and Dif had been working from, taking a folded sheet of paper from underneath a desk blotter. He read the name and the number aloud.
“Well, that’s her name, but that’s not the number of the company, at least not the number I
called.” Virgil was even more puzzled.
Simon left to make his rounds a little while later. He was stepping in for Jimmy to give him a little time with his family. Virgil worked alone in the office until the pile on his desk had disappeared, then he went over to Margie’s for dinner. A few snowflakes were swirling in the light of the parking lot when he left the office. He pulled up the collar of his jacket and put his hands in his pockets. By the time he made the short walk to the restaurant, the snow had become a little steadier. When he stepped inside the door, he took off his Stetson then brushed the snow off it against his leg.
“First real snow of the season, Virgil,” Margie’s voice greeted him.
“Probably won’t be the last,” he replied. He realized he was the only one in the place.
“Didn’t see you at Rosie’s after the burial.”
“No. Had to get back to the office.”
“Guess things are going to get a little hectic for you without Dave and Rosie.” Her comment caught Virgil off guard. He hadn’t really thought about Rosie not being in the office. “Clara not cooking for you tonight?”
“No. I called her before I came over, going to stay late tonight. Want to make sure someone’s in the office. Simon took over for Jimmy. He’s making rounds. He thinks Jimmy needs some downtime with his family. I agree with him. That kind of an experience can set you back on your heels. I gave Dif the night off.”
“Yeah, well, like you, I’m missing some people but it don’t much matter. Lot of people want to be with their family. Dave’s death sucked the life out of this town today, but I figure like you, someone’s got to be here. Guess that’s the boss. Well, Virgil, got some chicken and dumplings back there, you interested?”