Death on the High Lonesome (9 page)

Virgil reached across to clasp Ruby's hands in his.

“One last thing, Virgil. What we had meant so much, but I know a possibility of a future for us is just that, only a possibility. So I want us to separate knowing that we both have to move forward without looking back. I wouldn't change a moment of what we had. But neither of us can live on what might be. I will always love you, even if I never see you again.”

Virgil loosened his hold on her hands. She saw his eyes glisten. He said nothing. Instead, he came around the table, wrapped her in his arms. They stood that way a long time. The distant sound of a horn finally separated them.

“That's Kyle,” she said. “I've got to get ready.”

Only then did Virgil speak. “Before you, I was drifting through life. You made me realize that. When we separated, the way we separated, left me with an open wound. I don't feel that way now.”

Ruby nodded, then kissed him. “Virgil, it will be easier for me if you leave first.”

She saw the resignation in his eyes. Then he took the key from his pocket, dropping it on the table.

“Here,” he said. “When you leave, you're going to have to lock that door. I'll be here when you come back to unlock it. After all, the Black Bull is legally yours. When you reopen, I might even take a chance riding that bull to celebrate.”

Ruby picked up the key from the table, then watched as Virgil went out the door.

When he stepped outside, she watched him from the window, walking to his truck. She saw him wave to Kyle, who was standing next to his car.

Virgil sat in his truck. He didn't feel like talking to Kyle or anybody. He looked up at the building. He saw a curtain in an upstairs window flutter as if someone had just brushed against it. He looked at the black bull perched on top of the roof, still missing that part of its ear that had been shot off. It almost seemed to him like a metaphor. No one is truly whole. He was no exception. We're all broken, he thought, just in different ways. Then he turned the key in the ignition.

“H
ey, Rosie, where's Virgil?” It was almost four when Dif came through the door.

“I'm not sure. He didn't come in, never even called. I tried him on the landline when I couldn't get him on the cruiser's radio. Nothing—like he dropped off the planet. It's not like him to not call or just not show up all day.”

“Sounds to me like a man who don't want to be found,” Dif said. “Maybe he got lucky last night. Could happen.”

“Yeah, when pigs fly. Virgil got the wind knocked out of him by Ruby. Don't think he's quite ready to get back on that horse.”

“Wouldn't worry. Everything seems pretty quiet around here, from what I can see.”

“You're right, Dif. Doc Kincaid wanted to talk to him. Other than that, it has been pretty quiet. Hope it holds through Thanksgiving.”

“Me, too. Edna's got a million coming to dinner. Ain't hard to get a crowd when you're passing out free food and drink.”

“Never was, never will be,” Rosie said. “Well, if he calls or checks in, tell him to call Doc Kincaid. Oh, and tell him there was a head-on outside of town. Since Alex Rankin was still here to take his wife and new baby back home, he went to the accident scene and made out a report. No serious injuries, but the EMTs took one driver to the hospital.”

“Okay, I'll pass that along if he shows up.”

Rosie had been gone only a few minutes when Virgil walked through the door.

“Hey, buddy, Rosie gave you up for dead.”

“Yeah. I should have called. Got tied up.”

“Hope you mean that in a good way. Don't worry. I calmed her down, told her maybe you got lucky. But I didn't tell her that I happened to see you come out of the Black Bull, then wave to that federal guy, Kyle, or that I saw that pretty lady watching from that upstairs window as you drove away.”

“Damn, like living in a fishbowl.”

“Well, you know small-town life would be pretty boring without the gossip.”

Virgil winced. “Dif, keep it under your hat, will you?”

“What are you talking about, Virgil? Didn't see nothing except that gobbler I picked out from Sam Dixon's flock, the one that's going to be the centerpiece on our table this Thursday.”

“Thanks, Dif. Thursday? Oh, Thanksgiving!”

“Anyway, Virgil, Rosie told me to tell you Doc Kincaid called.”

Virgil picked up his Stetson, which he had only a minute before laid on his desk. “Listen, Dif. If you're all right here, maybe I'll run over to the hospital, look in on Jimmy and see Ark.”

“Hell, this place is as quiet as a tomb. Don't reckon there's gonna be a crime spree break out in Hayward this late in the
day. Quitting time. Everybody wants to get home to a hot meal and a cold drink. Go ahead, Virgil. Oh, when you're over to the hospital, you might want to check on that injured party they brought in. Forgot to tell you, Rosie said Alex took the accident report. It's on your desk.”

Virgil walked back over to his desk, picked up a folder, opened it, read the report, then placed it back on the desk. “Vernon,” he said. “Vernon Thompson.”

“What's that, Virgil?”

“That injured party, Vernon Thompson. Gotta be Velma and Charlie's boy. That's a coincidence. I was wondering when I was going to meet up with them.”

“Well, it looks like today, at least for one of them,” Dif said.

Virgil turned and retraced his steps to the door. “See ya, Dif. If you need me, holler. Thanks for not remembering that other thing. Rosie gets wind of that, my life will turn into a soap opera.”

“Already has, Virgil. By the way, since I planted that cover story, don't be surprised if, when she sees you, she asks if there's any salt left in that shaker. You know Rosie, she suspects anything, she goes right for the jugular.”

*   *   *

Jimmy wasn't in his room, so Virgil went to the nurse's station.

“You just missed him, Sheriff. He was discharged about twenty minutes ago.”

“Discharged?”

“When they're young, they bounce back pretty quick.”

Virgil shook his head. “I figured he'd be here at least another three or four days.”

“Well, he will be coming in for PT through next week. But he's looking real good.”

“Okay. What about number two on my list, Vernon Thompson?”

“Let me check.” The nurse scanned the computer, then picked up the phone. “Just wanted to double-check what the screen showed me. Sorry, Sheriff, looks like you're digging a dry well there, too. He was never admitted. Looked at in the ER and sent on his way. Anybody else?”

“Guess you wouldn't know if Doc Kincaid is around?”

“Matter of fact I do. He's downstairs. Sent him one of our less successful outcomes a little over an hour ago. He's probably finished. Should be in his office by now.”

“Thanks.”

Five minutes later Virgil was pulling up a chair opposite Art Kincaid in his office. “So, what have you got for me, Ark?”

“Nothing conclusive as far as cause of death, but some questions that need some answers. Preliminary tox results indicate Velma had barbiturates in her system.”

“Enough to kill her?”

“No, but the fact that there was enough to show up in her system suggests it was more than a minimum dose which would barely register. Probably enough to put her to sleep.”

“So what are you saying?”

“I'm not sure myself. Maybe she was asleep from the drug, then something else killed her. Or someone.”

“But why? Why would anyone kill Velma Thompson? It makes no sense. No sense at all.”

“I'm just the coroner, Virgil. You're the sheriff. I think this puts the ball in your court now. I still haven't found out what actually killed her, but I guess maybe you have to look into her death also. We're still nowhere with the woman who came off the overpass. No ID. Nothing.”

“No doubt, but where to start?”

“Maybe finding Charlie Thompson might provide some answers, Virgil.”

“Or more questions,” Virgil said as he walked to, then opened, the door.

“Yep, I guess that's why they call these things mysteries,” Ark said.

*   *   *

Virgil recognized the truck, so he wasn't too surprised to see his cousin Billy Three Hats, also known as Captain William Lightfoot of the reservation police, sitting on his front porch.

“Billy, what are you doing sitting out here in the cold?”

“Hell, it's going to get a lot colder than this, Virgil. I been in the truck all day, running around trying to chase down a lead on the whereabouts of a meth supplier. The fresh air feels good to me.”

“Any luck with your search?”

“Nothing definite, other than a couple of leads from some users on the rez. Not too many years ago, we thought alcohol was our biggest problem. Then along came meth, the escape for the new generation.”

Virgil nodded. “So come on inside before that cold really starts to set in. I'll fix us some dinner. Got a couple of rib eyes—I'll throw them on the grill. Probably the last time I'll use it before the snow flies.” Virgil looked up at the sky as he said it. Cobalt blue, not a cloud. The wind was picking up, blowing from the northwest. Swirls of fallen leaves were dancing in the driveway while Jack was in the corral, snorting at some dry chaff that was blowing around his hooves.

“That's the best invitation I've gotten today,” Billy said.

Just then, Cesar came out of the barn. When he saw Billy and Virgil, he waved.

“You about done?” Virgil yelled over.

“Pretty near,” Cesar yelled back. “Just got to let the horses in to feed.”

“Well, finish up. Billy's staying and I'm throwing some steaks on the grill.”

“Sounds good,” Cesar said, waving in reply.

*   *   *

“Boy, them steaks didn't suck,” Billy said as he sat back from the table, patting his stomach.

“No, they didn't,” Virgil said.

Cesar still had a mouthful and nodded in agreement.

“You work out something for that extra hay from the Thompson place?” Virgil asked him.

“All done,” Cesar said as he set down his fork. “Gonna get close to ten thousand bales starting tomorrow. There will be more if we need it. Pretty decent, got good color. Guess Charlie figured it was there so he might as well bale it. Lucky for us. Hope to get it all in the barn by the end of the week.”

“So we've got something to be thankful for after all this Thanksgiving,” Virgil said. “We won't have to decimate the herd.”

“That's right,” Billy said. “You lost all your hay when the barns burned down.”

“Well, not all. We had some in that old barn across the road, but not near enough. If we didn't get a reliable outside source, we would have had to sell off over sixty percent of the herd. Because of the dry in these parts, a lot of beef is being sold off, so the going price isn't much of an inducement. We're fortunate, we've got pretty good water for graze most of the year, but we've got to have
feed for the winter. I hated the idea of cutting the herd that much. Now I won't have to.”

“By the way, Virgil, I'm going to need a check for that hay for Miss Thompson.”

“She's at the ranch?”

“Came yesterday. Seems like a nice lady. She says she can act for her father since she has power of attorney. She explained that to me.”

“I heard about Mrs. Thompson,” Billy said. “What about Charlie? How long has he been gone now?”

“Four days and counting,” Virgil said.

“What are you thinking, Virgil?”

Virgil didn't answer right away. He took a sip from his coffee, then looked out the kitchen window at the dark night. “I'm thinking tomorrow I'm going to head out to the Thompson place. Then I think I might be taking a ride on Jack up into that High Lonesome country the next day or so, see if Charlie's up there. I sure would like to find him.”

“That's a lot of country to try and cover on horseback,” Billy said. “Might be like trying to find a needle in a haystack.”

“You know that country, Billy. I mean, the rez has a common border with the Thompson ranch for quite a ways, doesn't it?”

“About twenty miles, Virgil. I've been up in that area. High plateau, most of it. Good hunting, a mix of high desert and grassland. Years ago when the Thompson ranch was going full bore, a lot of the cattle up there would get real rangy. I mean, spring roundup was like watching an old western. Them cattle were as wild as them ten-point mule deer that call that country home. Charlie was real decent. When some of those strays crossed the line onto the rez, he and his hands would round them up, but always leave a few for the folks on the rez. I guess it was his way
of being neighborly. He also didn't mind if we crossed the line when we were hunting. Trying to find someone in that country, well, that's gonna take a lot of looking and more than a little luck. Hell, just to get up there is going to take half a day. Maybe you'd be better off looking from the air. From a helicopter.”

“I thought of that, but I reckon the council would throw a collective fit when I submit the bill. I'm trying to walk the line with them because I'm going to be telling them real soon that we need another full-timer. So I decided to go have a look for Charlie myself. Maybe I'll get lucky.”

*   *   *

“You want me to tag along?” Cesar asked the question while he and Virgil stood on the front porch watching Billy Three Hats heading down the driveway toward the county road.

“No. You got enough to do with Pedro and José getting that hay. It's going to take you a couple of days. We want to get that into the barn before the weather turns.”

“Well, Virgil, you better be careful in that high country. I don't much like the idea of you going up there alone.”

Virgil looked at Cesar standing partially in shadow where the porch light didn't reach. “I've been going out on my own for a while now, old-timer. Don't worry. I run into trouble I'll send up a smoke signal.”