Half in Love with Artful Death (7 page)

People bought donkeys because they were good at protecting livestock from coyotes and other critters, but sometimes the donkeys got too expensive to keep. The owners tried to get rid of them in conventional ways, but if one got taken to auction, it wouldn't sell. Rhodes had heard of times at recent auctions when a donkey had been run through the auction ring three or four times in one day without attracting a bid. Not being able to get rid of the animals by selling them, the owners turned them out or hauled them off and dumped them, which was when they became the county's problem. At the moment, Blacklin County had seven donkeys in custody, at a cost to the taxpayers of around a hundred and fifty dollars a week.

The commissioners weren't happy about the expense, and Rhodes didn't blame them, but it wasn't as if the problem were confined to Blacklin County. Rhodes had talked with a few other sheriffs around the state, and some of them were having even more trouble with donkeys than he was. He knew of one county that had fourteen donkeys penned up and eating on the taxpayer's dime.

Rhodes went looking for Buddy. He found him deep in the trees between the Collins house and the railroad tracks.

“Find any clues?” Rhodes asked.

Buddy shined his flashlight on Rhodes. “Depends on what you call clues. I've run across a bunch of beer cans, some plastic water bottles, and a few disposable diapers that got disposed of in the wrong place. No heads, though, metal or not.”

“All right,” Rhodes said. “You can go back on patrol. I'll have Andy look around some more tomorrow. We can't spend all night here.”

The fact was that while the apparent homicide was the most important crime of the night, it wouldn't be the last problem the sheriff's office had to deal with. There would be plenty of others, like the robbery at the convenience store, car accidents on the highways, prowlers, domestic disputes, shoplifting at the Walmart, copper thieves, donkeys, and all too many other things that would come up. Rhodes didn't have enough deputies to deal with every one of them, but he'd do what he could with the resources he had.

“You going home?” Buddy asked.

“Nope,” Rhodes said. “I'm going to see about some donkeys.”

*   *   *

Rhodes drove over the railroad overpass and out by the community college, whose main campus was located in another county. The Clearview campus was where Seepy Benton and Don McClaren taught. McClaren split his time between Clearview and the home campus because there wasn't enough demand for a full-time art teacher in Clearview.

Rhodes passed by the road that led to Seepy Benton's house. He was glad that Seepy wasn't involved with the donkeys, though if Seepy knew about some secret pressure points on donkeys, he might be a big help. Donkeys probably didn't have pressure points, however.

Flashing lights ahead let Rhodes know that Alton Boyd had already arrived. Rhodes pulled off the highway onto the shoulder and stopped about thirty yards behind the trailer attached to the big white pickup. He didn't want to get too close and be in the way of loading the trailer.

That was being optimistic, he knew. Loading the trailer would come only after catching the donkeys, and sometimes donkeys didn't want to be caught. At other times they didn't mind, though, and often those that didn't mind were the lucky ones. Rhodes knew of at least two donkeys that had been fairly tame and had been adopted by people whose property they'd been dumped on. The taxpayers had been lucky, too, because they were spared the expense and trouble of putting the donkeys up in county accommodations.

Alton Boyd strolled around from the front of the county pickup and said good evening to Rhodes, who could see him plainly in the headlights of the county car. Boyd wore what looked like flannel pajama bottoms, cowboy boots, and a red hoodie with the hood hanging down behind. He must have dressed in a hurry. A cheap unlit cigar jutted from the corner of Boyd's mouth. Rhodes knew the cigar was cheap because Boyd didn't believe in paying a lot for anything. He even put recapped tires on his personal car to save money.

“Where are the donkeys?” Rhodes asked.

“Just up the road a ways,” Boyd said, without removing the cigar. “I got 'em run off the road and down in the ditch. I pitched out a little horse-and-mule feed for 'em, so I think they'll stay there till we're ready to get them.”

A car went by them, its tires whispering on the highway. It wasn't going fast, not with all the flashing lights along the roadside. The driver probably thought there'd been an accident. Even though the driver wasn't speeding, Rhodes hoped the donkeys were where Boyd claimed they were. A low-speed collision could be almost as bad as any other kind. There wouldn't be much traffic on the highway at that time of night, which was a good thing.

“Let's go take a look at the donkeys,” Rhodes said.

“Okay,” Boyd said. “They're not much to look at, though.”

They walked beside the trailer. Boyd had already opened the two side doors, each one leading to a separate stall in the trailer. He'd lowered the ramps as well.

Boyd was right about the donkeys. Rhodes had a good look at them as they stood in the ditch in the beams of the pickup's headlights. Both of them were scrawny and underfed. Rhodes could see their ribs.

“You gonna adopt 'em?” Boyd asked.

Like everyone else connected with the sheriff's department, Boyd knew about Rhodes's habit of adopting animals that he ran into on his cases. Just two dogs and two cats, so far, but there had been a couple of other narrow escapes, including the dog he'd managed to get Seepy Benton to take. Donkeys, however, were far too large for Rhodes even to consider. His wife, Ivy, wouldn't approve at all.

“Looks like they needed that feed you gave them,” Rhodes said, ignoring Boyd's question.

“I'll get some more,” Boyd said. “They'll be easier to handle if they're not so hungry.”

He turned back to the truck, and Rhodes contemplated the donkeys, both of whom were contemplating him right back. One was black with a white stomach, and the other was solid gray. They were both males, or jacks, as they were called, and they didn't look friendly in spite of having been fed.

“I don't think that's going to help,” Rhodes told Boyd when he returned with a scoop of feed in each hand.

“I'll give it to 'em anyway,” Boyd said, talking around the cigar. “Better to try it than not to.”

He put the feed on the ground some distance from the donkeys, who stopped looking at Rhodes and looked at the food. After a few seconds, they walked to it and began to eat. Boyd took the scoops back to the truck and returned with a couple of lariats. He had on a pair of leather gloves, and he handed a pair to Rhodes.

“You any good at ropin'?” Boyd asked, as Rhodes pulled on the gloves. “As I recall, me and Ruth had to rope the alligator that time. You remember that?”

Rhodes remembered the alligator. Seepy Benton had wanted to wrestle it, but Ruth and Boyd had roped its snout and tail and held it as best they could while Rhodes duct-taped its snout shut.

“I can handle a rope,” Rhodes said.

“Good,” Boyd said, and handed him a lariat.

Rhodes shook out a loop and held it at his side.

Boyd shook out a loop, too. “Okay. Once we get 'em roped, we can lead 'em to the trailer. If they cooperate, that is. Donkey's ain't always big on cooperation. Just the opposite, most of the time.”

“What happens when we get them to the trailer?”

“Well, assuming we get 'em there, we'll try to get a halter on 'em and then get 'em into the trailer. I'll get 'em secured, and after that, no problems.”

He made it sound easy, but Rhodes had a feeling it wasn't going to be quite that simple.

“You ready?” Boyd asked.

Rhodes nodded.

“Then let's move up a little closer,” Boyd said. “We don't want to be too far away when we try to rope 'em.”

Rhodes noted the word “try.” He wasn't sure if it was aimed at him or just a general comment.

“Which one you want?” Boyd asked, taking a step forward. “Right or left?”

Since he was already on Boyd's left, Rhodes said, “Left.”

“Okay. Move up again.”

Both of them took a step. The donkeys looked up from the feed. Rhodes froze. Boyd took another step. Rhodes could tell that the donkeys didn't like that at all. One man with horse-and-mule feed might be okay, but two of them with ropes might be a different story.

The donkey on the right brayed, a series of sharp
eeeee
s, each one followed by a deeper and louder
haaaaaww.

Rhodes took a step. Both donkeys looked ready to run at any second.

“What if we rope them and they run?” Rhodes asked.

“Two choices,” Boyd said. “Let go or hang on.”

“That's what I was afraid of.”

“If you hang on,” Boyd said, “it might pull you for a little way. Might be some grass burrs still around, even if it ain't the season for 'em, and you'll get scraped up pretty good.”

“Just what I needed to hear,” Rhodes said.

The donkey on the left shivered.

“Go for it,” Boyd said.

He flipped his lasso. Rhodes tossed his loop as well. By what Rhodes considered a minor miracle, both loops settled over the donkeys' heads and slid down their necks.

Rhodes didn't have to tighten his loop. The donkey did it for him, by taking off at a lope. Rhodes elected the “hang on” option and was jerked off his feet. He hit the ground on his stomach and was dragged along over the grass and weeds in the ditch. He didn't know where Boyd was, and he didn't care. He'd hang on as long as he could and hope the jack would stop before he had to let go. It wasn't going very fast, so the damage would be small.

Rhodes bounced over a lump of earth, and the rope slid a foot or so through his hands. He was glad he had on the gloves. So far he'd managed to keep his head from banging into anything. He figured that was a point in his favor. He hoped his clothes would hold up.

Rhodes heard a loud braying from somewhere behind him, but since he couldn't see back there, he didn't know if Boyd was having a problem or if his donkey was being more cooperative than the one that was dragging Rhodes, who'd had just about enough.

He began to haul himself up the rope. The donkey must have felt the increased resistance, because it slowed down to a walk. Rhodes was able to get to his feet and haul back on the rope. The donkey was stubborn and tried to pull Rhodes down again.

This time Rhodes kept his feet and jogged along for a couple of steps. The donkey went a few yards and stopped.

Rhodes stood still for a while, keeping his grip on the rope. He saw the donkey in the darkness ahead of him. The donkey stood calmly, looking back at Rhodes.

“So,” Rhodes said, “you give up?”

“Eeeee-
haaaaaww.
”

“Good, because I was just about to get rough with you.”

The donkey didn't bother to answer, so Rhodes gave a little tug on the rope. The donkey took a step toward him.

“That's better,” Rhodes said. “You come on now.”

He walked back toward the pickup with the donkey following. At first Rhodes didn't see Boyd. He and the other donkey seemed to have disappeared, but then Boyd stepped out of the trailer.

“Got mine taken care of,” Boyd said when he saw Rhodes coming along the ditch. “You okay?”

“I'm a little dirty,” Rhodes said, “but I'm all in one piece.”

He looked down at his clothes. His shirt was covered with dirt, and so were his pants, but at least they weren't torn.

“More or less,” he added.

“I'll get the donkey loaded up,” Boyd said. “You gonna go with me to the feed lot?”

“I think I'll go home,” Rhodes said, “if you can handle them by yourself.”

“Easy enough, now,” Boyd said.

“Then I'm going home.”

“Have a good night.”

“You, too,” Rhodes said. “What's left of it.”

 

Chapter 7

Rhodes went into his backyard, but Speedo was nowhere to be seen. Probably asleep in his igloo, Rhodes thought. Smart dog.

Yancey, the little Pomeranian, wasn't asleep, or if he'd been asleep, he woke up as soon as Rhodes opened the back door. Rhodes heard doggie toenails clicking across the kitchen floor, and by the time the door had closed, Yancey was dancing around Rhodes's feet and yipping while the two of them stood on the little enclosed back porch.

“You're going to wake up Ivy,” Rhodes said, but Yancey either didn't hear him or didn't care. The yipping continued.

“You're bothering Sam and Jerry,” Rhodes said.

Sam and Jerry were the cats, and Rhodes knew that Yancey wasn't really bothering them. Nothing much bothered them, especially if they were sleeping, which seemed to be their chief occupation. Most of the time they stayed in the kitchen, sleeping in the warm air that vented from the bottom of the refrigerator.

Rhodes entered the kitchen. Yancey had stopped yipping, but he was still doing his little dance around Rhodes's feet.

“One of these days you're going to cause me to fall,” Rhodes said, flipping on the light.

Sure enough, the cats were in their usual place, curled into circles. Sam slitted both eyes just enough to see what all the commotion was about, then closed them. Jerry didn't even bother to do that. Rhodes sneezed. He was allergic to cats, though Ivy didn't believe him when he told her so. She said that the sneezing was psychological.

Rhodes went back out on the enclosed porch and started to take off his clothes. He was just stepping out of his pants when Ivy came into the kitchen.

“The county really should pay you a clothing allowance,” she said. “How bad are they this time?”

“Not too bad,” Rhodes said, and they weren't, considering the condition they'd been in on other occasions.