Страница 4 из 58
“Is it Da
She held it up for us to look at. “Well, seeing as how it has DANNY engraved on the outside, I’d say yes.” She opened it and studied the Wyoming driver’s license and the face of the elderly Cheye
Omar reached out and straightened the collar of the dead man’s shirt. “He was a good old guy—let me bring clients out here whenever I wanted and even let me fly my helicopter into this place.”
I glanced around. “Where is the ranch house from here?”
He ignored my question. “There’s going to be trouble.” He pointed. “The eyes—the medicine men will have to do something about this or Da
I nodded, fishing my keys from my jeans so that we could load the man into the truck bed and take him to Doc Bloomfield and room 32, the Durant Memorial Hospital’s ad hoc morgue. “I’ll get in touch with the family, Henry, and the Cheye
• • •
The last time I’d seen Da
Asking why he was a Moose and not an Elk, I’d grabbed a Rainier for myself and joined him.
“They got a better bar down here.”
He looked up at me and smiled. Lined with more wrinkles than a flophouse bed, the old man’s face was cragged but still handsome and carried the wisdom of the ages. He reached over to squeeze my shoulder with a hand as large and spidery as a king crab.
Well into his cups, he spoke to me through clinched teeth; Da
“End of watch. I came here looking for trouble, but there isn’t any.”
“Can I buy you a beer?”
I gestured with the full can. “Got one.”
He closed one eye and looked at me. “You too good to drink with an Indian?”
“No. I—”
“’Cause you gotta have a reservation.” He kept his eye on me like a spotlight, guffawed uproariously at his own joke, and then leaned in close. “You wa
I nodded. “Was that all there was to it?”
“No.” He gri
His voice rose. “Bartender.” He looked back at me, again smiling through the ill-fitting dentures. “I think that’s when this guy called you.”
The man approached somewhat warily. “Can I help you?”
He lip-pointed at sharp-face and cowboy hat. “Yeah; I think I better buy those guys down there a beer; I’m afraid I might’ve spooked ’em.”
As the barkeep went about distributing the conciliatory beverages, Da
“Really?”
“Yeah, made the mistake of tryin’ to get him to go to Indian church one time.”
“Uh-oh.”
“Yeah.” He gri
“I’m sorry; my mother was the religious one.”
“He said he figured I was just tradin’ one superstition for another.”
I took a sip of my beer. “He wasn’t a big one for churches.”
“They still have that place out near Buffalo Creek?”
“I have it now—they’ve both passed.”
He nodded. “I am sorry to hear that—they were good people.” He was silent for a moment and looked down at his lap. “Do you ever see them?”
I turned and looked at him, thinking that I hadn’t made myself clear. “They’re dead.”
He nodded again and then stared at the can in his hands. “Yeah, but do you ever see them?”
“Umm, I don’t . . .”
“When I am alone, hunting or fishing . . .” He breathed a laugh. “. . . And that is the only time I’m alone, by the way . . .” He looked at me. “. . . I see my ancestors, the ones who have walked the Hanging Road to the Camp of the Dead. When I see them, they are far away but watching me like the eyes of the stars.”
Not quite sure what to say to that, I nodded. “That’s nice . . . that they’re looking out for you.”
“I don’t know if that’s what it is.” He took out some antacids, shook a few of the chunky tablets into his hand, and washed them down with some beer. “Mmm, peppermint, my favorite.” He started humming the theme to Dragnet, which was also the jingle for the pills. “Tum, tum, tum, tum . . .” Then he opened a prescription bottle that he took from the pocket of his shirt, shook out a few pills, and swallowed them, too. He looked at me blankly. “What was I talking about?”
“Family.”
“Oh, right . . . I am old, and I know I am standing on the brink of the life nobody knows about, and I am anxious to go to my Father, Ma-h ay oh. To live again as men were intended to live, even on this world, but I fear for the remains of my family.”
I knew that his ranch was vast and there had been talk of gas, oil, and fossil deposits, but I still couldn’t understand Lone Elk’s concerns. “You’ve got children, right? I’m sure your family will look after those things after you’re gone, Da
It was a long time before he spoke again. “Maybe that’s true, but I would take some things back if I could.”
• • •
“I said . . .” My undersheriff raised an eyebrow and sighed, still holding her end of the now blanket-wrapped body. “Did you hear that?”
With Da
She glanced at Omar, and then they both looked at me. “A gunshot.”
I took a deep breath to clear my head and my ears. “Close?”
“What, you were having some kind of out-of-body experience?”
“No, I was just remembering when I had seen Da
Vic looked toward the ridge. “Not far.”
We hurried to get Da
He gestured toward the passenger side. “Get in.”
I glanced at my truck. “Maybe we’d better leave Da
He shook his head. “This thing’s faster—besides, it’s bulletproof.”
Ushering Vic into the front, I climbed in the back and gaped at the leather and burl-wood interior. “Omar, what the heck is this thing?”