Recoil

“I know. Don’t worry about it too much. I still think of myself as Fred Mathieson. It’ll be a long time before it comes easy.”

But it had u

Cuernavan said gently, “Best way to handle it, just take your time every time somebody asks you a question. Any question at all. Wait a couple seconds before you answer. Give yourself time to make sure before you talk.”

“Yes, sir,” Ro

When they returned to Cochise Road a Mountain Bell truck was pulling out of the driveway; they had to wait for it to emerge. Caruso was still parked at the side of the road. The truck drove away into the pines and Cuernavan let himself out of the pickup.

Caruso said, “I checked him out. Genuine telephone company. Your phone’s co

“Pretty good, thanks.”

“We’ll see you in the morning, then. Relief shift takes over in a little while; we’ll be going off.”

“How long do you have to keep watch on us?”

“Until Gle

“It must be boring as hell.”

“We get paid for it.” Caruso had a kind smile. He displayed his paperback. “I catch up on my trash reading. Anyhow this is a picnic, ru

Cuernavan said, “Check the oil every hundred miles or so until you find out how much she’s using.”

“Will do. Thanks for the help.”

“Thanks for the company,” Cuernavan replied. He slid into the car beside Caruso.

Mathieson drove it into the driveway. Ro

“Aeah.” He parked by the kitchen door and they unloaded into the house. Jan had the place dusted and swept to her satisfaction; it was time to line the shelves.

Mathieson picked up the receiver and listened to the buzz. Then he put it down; there was nobody he could call.

The air was crisp and thin. After supper he built a fire and they sat around it until it was time to turn in. They slept under doubled blankets. Somewhere in the run of the night he awoke briefly and thought how cold it was, and thought about the two men in the night-shift car at the foot of the driveway: They must be half frozen.

They had an early breakfast. Immediately afterward Ro

“Fat chance of him obeying that one,” Mathieson said.

“I know. But there’s no way Frank Pastor’s people could find us here.”

He hadn’t told her about Ro

The phone. It startled him; the adrenaline made his hand shake when he picked it up.

“Hi, Jason. It’s Gle

“We’re fine. Where are you?”

“Sky Harbor Airport, Phoenix. I’ll be up there this evening, see how you’re getting along.”

“We’re settling in. Your men are handling things beautifully.”

“Caruso’s a Goddamn gem,” Bradleigh said. “See you around eight, OK?”

“Scotch and water, light on the water. Right?”

“Right.”

At lunch Ro

Jan stood to clear the table. Ro

“How about tomorrow morning.”

“Hey, yeah. Then I better get the stable cleaned out.” And the boy was off and ru

Mathieson broke the seal on the vodka. “Bloody Mary?”

“It’s awfully early.”

“I’m still jumpy.”

“You go ahead then. I don’t want anything.” She was cool, distant.

He mixed the drink and sat at the kitchen table watching her rearrange things in the cabinet. She kept taking things down and putting them back. Then abruptly she took the drink out of his hand and swallowed half of it.

“I changed my mind.” She gave the glass back to him. “I’m sorry. I’m feeling snappish.”

“Yeah.”

He drained it and went to the sink to wash the glass. Through the window he could see the open maw of the barn. Ro

“Fred?”

He turned. “Jason.”

“I’m sorry. It doesn’t fit you.”

“Couldn’t be helped. Those were the papers they happened to have. Short notice …”

“It’s just not fair.” She slammed a frying pan back onto its shelf. “I wasn’t made for this rustic nonsense. I miss Roger and Amy—I miss everything.”

He took her in the circle of his arms. “Go ahead.”

She was still: rigid. She turned away from him and went to the fireplace. She kept her arms folded; he saw her shoulders lift defensively.

It was no good trying to go to her. He knew how she felt: She wanted to start smashing things. He said, “Right offhand I can’t think of any platitudes that would help.”

“I want my house back.” She turned and stared at him. “I want my family’s name back. Our friends. Our Goddamned life. I want our son to live like a normal human being again. Adjusting, hell—when would he ever be eager to go off by himself and muck out a falling-down barn? If he weren’t desperately upset he’d be ru

After a long time she said, “We’re not going to last like this.”

He took a long ragged breath. “What do you want me to do?”

“I wish I knew.”

2

They waited for Bradleigh. The night shift came on but Caruso and Cuernavan stayed, taking coffee with them in the house. Cuernavan and Ro

Mathieson drank the Bloody Mary too fast and tried to remember whether it was his fourth or fifth since lunch.

The downing sun threw a red blaze through the window. Caruso left his seat and went to the screen door to stand watch. “This is fine coffee.”

Jan said, “Shouldn’t he have been here by now?”

“I don’t know,” Caruso said. “I wouldn’t worry about Gle

“Have you known him long?”

“Worked for him six years now. He’s one of the best.”

Mathieson was thinking: This is no good. We’re just kidding ourselves. We’ve both got to find something sensible to do with our lives or we’ll go insane up here.

“Gin.”

“Hell, Ro

“Seventy-three.” Ro

Maybe I’ll become a cabinet maker. Give me something to do with my hands at least.

It wouldn’t work and he knew it but he explored the fantasy dutifully. He had been devoted to professions that involved human complexities; to sustain his spirit he had to deal with people, not with pieces of wood.