IGMS Issue 15 (27 page)

"Everything always comes down to sex and violence," she murmured.

She was making a joke about it. It made him feel sick. He let go of her, took his hands off her completely. "It was real to
me
. It mattered to
me
. But you've been faking it all day, it didn't matter to you a bit, and I think that stinks. I think that makes you a liar. And you know what else? You don't deserve to be in this show. You aren't good enough."

He didn't want to hear her answer. He didn't want anything more to do with her. He felt ashamed of having shown her how he felt about her, about the show, about anything. So many years he'd kept to himself, never getting close to anybody, never talking about anything he really cared about, and now when he finally blurted out something that mattered to him, it was to
her
.

He turned his back on her and walked away, heading around the truck. Now that he wasn't so close to her, paying so much attention, he realized that there were other people talking. Sound carried pretty good tonight in the clear dry air. Probably everybody in the tents heard their whole conversation. Probably they were all peeking out to watch. No humiliation was complete without witnesses.

Some of the talking, though, got louder as he rounded the back of the truck. It was Marshall and somebody else out by the light and sound control panel. Ollie? No, a stranger. Deaver walked on over, even though he didn't feel like talking to anybody, because he had a feeling that whatever was going on, it wasn't good.

"I can be back with a warrant in ten minutes and then I'll find out whether she's here or not," said the man, "but the judge won't like having to make one out this time of night, and he might not be so easy on you."

It was the sheriff. It didn't take Deaver long to guess that Ollie'd got himself caught doing something stupid. But no, that couldn't be, or the sheriff wouldn't need a warrant. A warrant meant searching for something. Or somebody. Whatever was happening, it meant Deaver hadn't stayed on Ollie tight enough. Hadn't the girl said something about meeting him after the show, even if she had to sneak out of her window to do it? He should have remembered before. He shouldn't have let his eyes off Ollie. It was all Deaver's fault.

"Who you looking for, Sheriff?" Deaver asked.

"None of your problem, Deaver," said Marshall.

"This your son?" asked the sheriff.

"He's a range rider," said Marshall. "We gave him a ride and he's been helping out a little."

"You seen a girl around here?" asked the sheriff. "About this high, name of Nancy Pulley. She was seen talking to your light man after the show."

"I saw a girl talking to Ollie," said Deaver. "Right after the show, but it looked to me like her father pulled her away."

"Yeah, well, could be, but she isn't home right now and we're pretty sure she meant to come back here and meet somebody."

Marshall stepped in between Deaver and the sheriff. "All our people are here, and there aren't many outsiders."

"Then why don't you just let me go in and check, if you got nothing to hide?"

Of course Deaver knew why. Ollie must be missing. It was too late to go find him before trouble started.

"We have a right to be protected against unreasonable searches, sir," said Marshall. He would've gone on, no doubt, but Deaver cut him off by asking the sheriff a question.

"Sheriff, the show's only been over about fifteen minutes," said Deaver. "How do you know she isn't off with some girlfriends or something? Have you checked their houses?"

"Look, smart boy," said the sheriff, "I don't need you telling me my business."

"Well, I guess not. I think you know your business real good," said Deaver. "In fact, I think you know your business so good that you
know
this girl wouldn't be off with a girlfriend. I bet this girl has caused you a lot of trouble before."

"That's none of your business, range rider."

"I'm just saying that --"

But now Marshall had caught the drift of what Deaver was doing, and he took over. "I am alarmed, sir, that there might be a chance that this girl from your town is corrupting one of my sons. My sons have little opportunity to associate with young people outside our family, and it may be that an
experienced
girl might lead one of them astray."

"Real smart," said the sheriff, glaring at Marshall and then at Deaver and then at Marshall again. "But it isn't going to work."

"I don't know what you mean," said Marshall. "I only know that you were aware that this girl was prone to illicit involvement with members of the opposite sex, and yet you made no effort to protect guests in your town from getting involved with her."

"You can just forget that as a line of defense in court," said the sheriff.

"And why is that?" asked Marshall.

"Because her father's the judge, Mr. Aal. You start talking like that, and you've lost your license in a hot second. You might get it back on appeal, but with Judge Pulley fighting you every step of the way, you aren't going to be working for months."

Deaver couldn't think of anything to say. To Deaver's surprise, neither could Marshall.

"So I'm coming back in ten minutes with a warrant, and you better have all your boys here in camp, and no girls with them, or your days of spreading corruption through the fringe are over."

The sheriff walked a few paces toward the road, then turned back and said, "I'm going to call the judge on my radio, and then I'll be sitting right here in my car watching your camp till the judge gets here with the warrant. I don't want to miss a thing."

"Of course not, you officious cretin," said Marshall. But he said it real quiet, and Deaver was the only one who heard him.

It was plain what the sheriff planned. He was hoping to catch Nancy Pulley running away from the camp, or Ollie sneaking back.

"Marshall," said Deaver, as quiet as he could, "I saw Ollie with that girl in the orchard before the show."

"I'm not surprised," said Marshall.

"I take it Ollie isn't in camp."

"I haven't checked," said Marshall.

"But you figure he's gone."

Marshall didn't say anything. Wasn't about to admit anything to an outsider, Deaver figured. Well, that was proper. When the family's in trouble, you got to be careful about trusting strangers.

"I'll do what I can," said Deaver.

"Thanks," said Marshall. It was more than Deaver expected him to say. Maybe Marshall understood that things were bigger than Marshall could handle just by telling people off.

Deaver walked along after the sheriff, and came up to him just as he was setting down his radio mouthpiece. The sheriff looked up at him, already looking for a quarrel. "What is it, range rider?"

"My name's Deaver Teague, Sheriff, and I've only been with the Aals since this morning, when they picked me up. But that was long enough to get to know them a little, and I got to tell you, I think they're pretty good people."

"They're all actors, son. That means they can
seem
to be anything they want."

"Yeah, they're pretty good actors, aren't they. That was some show, wasn't it."

The sheriff smiled. "I never said they weren't
good
actors."

Deaver smiled back. "They
are
good. I helped them set up today. They work real hard to put on that show. Did you ever try to lift a generator? Or put up those lights? Getting from a loaded truck to a show tonight -- they put in an honest day's work."

"Are you getting somewhere with this?" asked the sheriff.

"I'm just telling you, they may not do farm work like most folks here in town, but it's still real work. And it's a
good
kind of work, I think. Didn't you see the faces of those kids tonight, watching the show? You think they didn't go home proud?"

"Shoot, boy, I know they did. But these show people think they can come in here and screw around with the local girls and . . ." His voice trailed off. Deaver made sure not to interrupt him.

"That man you talked to, Sheriff, this isn't just his business, it's his family, too. He's got his wife and parents with him, and his sons and daughters. You got any children, Sheriff?"

"Yes I do, but I don't let them go off any which way like some people do."

"But sometimes kids do things their parents taught them not to do. Sometimes kids do something really bad, and it breaks their parents' hearts. Not
your
kids, but maybe the Aals have a kid like that, and maybe Judge Pulley does too. And maybe when their kids are getting in trouble, people like the Aals and the Pulleys, they do anything they can to keep their kids out of trouble. Maybe they even pretend like anything their kid does, it was somebody else's fault."

The sheriff nodded. "I see what you're getting at, Mr. Teague. But that doesn't change my job."

"Well what
is
your job, Sheriff? Is it putting good people out of work because they got a grown-up son they can't handle? Is it causing Judge Pulley's daughter to get her name dragged through the mud?"

The sheriff sighed. "I don't know why I started listening to you, Teague. I always heard you range riders never talked much."

"We save it all up for times like this."

"You got a plan, Teague? Cause I can't just drive off and forget about this."

"You just go on and do what you got to do, Sheriff. But if it so happens that Nancy Pulley gets home safe and sound, then I hope you won't do anything to hurt either one of these good families."

"So why didn't that actor talk good sense like you instead of getting all hoity-toity with me?"

Deaver just grinned. No use saying what he was thinking -- that Marshall wouldn't have gotten hoity-toity if the sheriff hadn't treated him like he was already guilty of a dozen filthy crimes. It was good enough that the sheriff was seeing them more like ordinary folks. So Deaver patted the door of the car and walked on up the road toward the orchard. Now all Deaver had to do was find Ollie.

It wasn't hard. It was like they wanted to be found. They were in tall grass on the far side of the orchard. She was laughing. They didn't hear Deaver coming, not till he was only about ten feet away. She was naked, lying on her dress spread out like a blanket under her. But Ollie still had his pants on, zipped tight. Deaver doubted the girl was a virgin, but at least it wasn't Ollie's fault. She was playing with his zipper when she happened to look up and see Deaver watching. She screeched and sat up, but she didn't even try to cover herself. Ollie, though, he picked up his shirt and tried to cover her.

"Your daddy's looking for you," Deaver said.

She made her mouth into a pout. To her it was a game, and it didn't matter that much to lose a round.

"Do you think we care?" said Ollie.

"Her daddy is the judge of this district, Ollie. Did she tell you that?"

It was plain she hadn't.

"And I just got through talking to the sherif. He's looking for
you
, Ollie. So I think it's time for Nancy to get her clothes back on."

Still pouting, she got up and started pulling her dress on over her head.

"Better put on your underwear," said Deaver. He didn't want any evidence lying around.

"She didn't wear any," said Ollie. "I wasn't exactly corrupting the innocent."

She had her arms through the sleeves, and now she poked her head through the neck of her bunched-up dress and flashed a smile at Deaver. Her hips moved just a little, just enough to draw Deaver's eyes there. Then she shimmied her dress down to cover her.

"Like I told you," said Ollie. "We men are just pumps with handles on them."

Deaver ignored him. "Get on home, Nancy. You need your rest -- you've got a long career ahead of you."

"Are you calling me a whore?" she demanded.

"Not while you're still giving it away free," said Deaver. "And if you have any idea about crying rape, remember that there's a witness who saw you taking down his zipper and laughing while you did it."

"As if Papa would believe you and not me!" But she turned and walked off into the trees. No doubt she knew all the paths home from this place.

Ollie was standing there, making no move to put on his shirt or his shoes. "This was none of your business, Deaver." It was light enough to see that Ollie was making fists. "You got no right to push me around."

"Come on, Ollie, let's get back to the camp before the judge gets there with a warrant."

"Maybe I don't want to."

Deaver didn't want to argue about it. "Let's go."

"Try and make me."

Deaver shook his head. Didn't Ollie realize his fighting words were straight out of third-grade recess?

"Come on, Deaver," Ollie taunted. "You said you were going to protect the family from nasty little Ollie, so do it. Break all my ribs. Cut me up in little pieces and carry me home. Don't you carry a knife in your big old ranger boots? Isn't that how big tough strong guys like you get other people to do whatever you say?"

Deaver was fed up. "Act like a man, Ollie. Or don't you have enough of the family talent to fake decency?"

Ollie lost his cockiness and his swagger all at once. He charged at Deaver, flailing both arms in blind rage. It was plain he meant to do a lot of damage. It was also plain he had no idea how to go about doing it. Deaver caught him by one arm and flung him aside. Ollie sprawled on the ground. Poor kid, thought Deaver. Traveling with his pageant wagon all his life, he never even learned how to land a punch.

But Ollie wasn't done. He got up and charged again, and this time a couple of blows did connect. Nothing bad, but it hurt, and Deaver threw him down harder. Ollie landed wrong on his wrist and cried out with pain. But he was so angry he still got up again, this time striking out with only his right hand, and when he got in close he swung his head from side to side trying to butt Deaver in the face, and when Deaver got hold of his arms Ollie kicked him, tried to knee him in the groin, until finally Deaver had to let go of him and punch him hard in the stomach. Ollie collapsed to his knees and threw up.

The whole time, Deaver never got mad. He couldn't think why -- rage had been close to the surface all day, and yet now, when he was really fighting somebody, there was nothing. Just a cold desire to get through with the fighting and get Ollie home.