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He raised his head hopefully. “Home?” he said.
A feeling of total helplessness washed over Joa
Where would she find something as simple as dry clothing for him to wear? There was nothing out at High Lonesome Ranch that would fit him. Joa
On the seat beside her, an inconsolable Junior once again dissolved into tears. His despairing, muffled sobs were enough to break Joa
“Hush now,” she said. “Do you like to sing?”
Continuing to whimper, he didn’t answer.
They were through Tombstone now, past the airport, and coming down the long curve into the upper San Pedro Valley. Off to the right-a good twenty miles across the valley-the combined lights of Sierra Vista and Fort Huachuca glimmered along the base of the mountains. Ahead of them, in the darkened sky over the Mule Mountains, a single star-the evening star-glittered brightly. Seeing it reminded Joa
“Twinkle, twinkle, little star,” Joa
By the time Joa
By then it no longer mattered what she sang because Junior was sound asleep beside her. With the heater on, the smell of urine was thick in the air, but Joa
Coming around Lavender Pit, she finally made up her mind about where she was going to go-straight to Butch Dixon’s place in Saginaw. Picking up the phone, she dialed his number and breathed a sigh of relief when he answered right away.
“Where are you?” Butch asked. “Je
“I’m coming through Lowell,” she told him, speaking quietly, afraid that if she raised her voice she might disturb Junior, who was snoring softly beside her.
“Great,” Butch said. “We set a place for you, but I didn’t think you’d be here this early.”
“Neither did I,” Joa
“What kind of problem?”
“I’ve got a passenger with me. His name is Junior. At least that’s as much of his name as we know. He’s developmentally disabled. He peed his pants about the time we were leaving a crime scene in Tombstone, and now he’s sound asleep.”
“What’s he doing in your car?” Butch asked. “Is he under arrest, or what?”
“He didn’t commit a crime, so no, he’s not under arrest. Somebody abandoned him at the weekend arts and crafts fair over in Saint David. It’s hard to tell about his age. I’d say he’s somewhere close to fifty, but we’ve got no identification to verify that. Mentally he’s closer to three or four. Verbal, but only just.”
“Not enough to tell you he needed to go to the bathroom.”
“Right. He tried. I just didn’t understand.”
“So where are you taking him, to the jail?”
“I can’t take him there, Butch. Some of those guys…”
“I know. I know. And you can’t take him home, either.”
“No,” Joa
“You want me to take care of him?”
Joa
“Where are you now?” he asked.
“The traffic circle.”
“I’ll go out and move the Subaru so you can pull into the carport right next to the house. And I’ll bring out a robe and some towels so we can get him out of his wet clothes before we try to bring him inside. How big is he?”
“Not very,” Joa
“Will my underwear fit him?”
“He’ll swim in it.”
“No problem,” Butch said cheerfully. “Sounds like he’s swimming in something else at the moment. How bad is your car?”
“It’s bad. Soaked.”
“It’ll have to wait. First things first,” Butch said. “See you in a couple of minutes.”
It wasn’t much more than that when Joa
For a change, Joa
“There you go,” Butch said, taking Junior by the arm. “Come on in. It’s cold out here, and di
Looking down at the terry-cloth robe, Junior ran his fingers across the soft, downy material in seeming delight. “Hungry,” he said, nodding agreeably. “Junior eat.”
As soon as Butch had begun unbuttoning Junior’s shirt, Je
“This is Junior, Je
“Hello, Junior,” Je
Junior’s eyes fastened hungrily on the carton in Je
Matter-of-factly, Je
Butch helped Junior onto the proper chair. Joa