Staggerford (31 page)

Miles said, “I’m not here about that. I’m here to find out why the National Guard is parked in the Bingham barnyard.”

The Giant caught his breath. “Who told you?”

“Nobody. I was just out there.”

“Come in.”

Miles stepped into Room 8, which because it contained the Giant seemed very small. But for all his size, the Giant was less imposing than yesterday, perhaps because he wasn’t wearing his hat, which yesterday had concealed his baldness, or perhaps because he had unstrapped his holster and laid it on the bed.

“This is confidential, Pruitt. That’s your name, isn’t it—
Pruitt? No one’s supposed to know, so keep it to yourself. The Guard is out there in case there’s trouble tomorrow in Pike Park. The Bingham farm is perfect for bivouacking the Guard. They can’t be seen from the highway, yet at a signal from me the Guard can be out of the gulch and into the Park inside of two minutes. That’s logistics for you. On paper it works out to two minutes. If the Indians cause us any trouble they’ll be looking at sixty men armed to the teeth inside of two minutes.”

“How much trouble do you expect from three or four Indians?”

“Three or four! Who you trying to kid? If the American Indian Movement has got wind of this meeting tomorrow we’re going to see a hell of lot more than three or four Indians. We’re liable to see Indians from all over America. We could have a real hot time of it, Pruitt, and you’re going to be damn glad the Guard is on your side and not on theirs. Don’t you know what happens when minorities get militant?”

Miles said he did. Then he explained about the Bone-woman.

The Giant scratched his head. “She’s a killer, eh?”

“That’s what her daughter claims. And I don’t think the daughter should be out there overnight with her.”

“Are you sure the daughter’s out there?”

“No, but I can’t find her anywhere else.”

“Come with me.” He led Miles outside into the red glow of motel neon and he opened the door of his patrol car. He recited a string of numbers into his two-way radio, and the numbers brought a reply from a guardsman.

Miles said, “Ask if there’s a black GMC pickup out there in the yard.”

The guardsman said there was no pickup. Mrs. Bingham was alone in the house and everything was A-okay.

“No black pickup and everything is A-okay,” the Giant told Miles. He shut his car door.

“I’m afraid those soldiers will drive that woman crazy.”

“Nothing to worry about. The men have been told they can bed down in the outbuildings, but the house is off limits.
Nothing to worry about. I talked to Mrs. Bingham, you know.”

“You did?”

“I was out there this afternoon before the Guard arrived. I cleared it with her. She seemed all right.”

“What did she say?”

“Well.” He scratched his head. “Come to think of it, she didn’t say anything. She opened the front door and I told her I was going to station the National Guard on her farm overnight and she gave me a look that seemed to say, ‘Suit yourself.’ At least that’s the way I took it. I don’t know. It was kind of a strange look, now I think about it.”

Two more patrol cars pulled up to the motel, and the Giant assigned the men to Room 12. Miles went back to the Mustang.

The Giant called, “Say, Pruitt. I was just thinking. You know, if that shooting took place eight years ago, it’s a dead issue. Seven years is the longest you can wait before you prosecute anybody in Minnesota. Didn’t you know that?”

Miles didn’t know that.

Thanatopsis and Miles returned to Miss McGee’s. Miss McGee told Miles he was expected at the Big Chief Motel at seven. She served him an omelet and fried potatoes and a pear on a lettuce leaf. She said she had called Bartholomew Druppers to see what could be done about the Bonewoman and he told her about the statute of limitations. Eight years had passed and the Bonewoman was beyond the law.

“What we’ll have to do,” said Thanatopsis, “is go about this business from a medical angle. We must get Dr. Maitland to recommend that she be committed to a hospital for examination. We’ll do it as soon as this Indian business is over. We’ll do it Monday.” Thanatopsis and Miss McGee drank tea and watched Miles eat. Anxiety had spoiled their appetites. Miss McGee was keeping Beverly’s hot chocolate warm on the stove.

“I’m sure Monday will be soon enough,” said Thanatopsis. “It’s been eight years since she shot the man, and
the man who was wrongly punished for it is dead—so Monday will be soon enough.”

“It’s Beverly I worry about,” said Miles. “What if the National Guard drives the Bonewoman loony and she loads up the rat gun and Beverly comes walking in on her?”

Thanatopsis said, “With the kind of life Beverly’s had, she’s probably good at taking care of herself.”

True, Miles nodded, chewing.

“And once her mother’s gone, she can move to town,” said Thanatopsis. “We have scads of room in our house.”

“It’s all so dreadful,” said Miss McGee.

Wayne Workman, looking for his wife and his Mustang, walked to Miss McGee’s house. He would have phoned, but he was afraid Miss McGee would answer.

He found his Mustang parked at the curb and got into it and waited in the dark for Thanatopsis. When she came out of the house, Wayne gave her hell for taking the car without telling him and for not having supper ready on time. Then he asked her to go back into the house with a message for Miles.

“Go yourself.”

“I can’t. Miss McGee doesn’t like me.”

So Thanatopsis went back into the house and told Miles to bring Jeff Norquist with him to the meeting at the motel. Then she went home and fried Wayne a steak.

Miles phoned the Norquist house. Mrs. Norquist said Jeff wasn’t home. She hadn’t seen him all day. She had no idea where he went.

“Did he pack a bag?” asked Miles. “Did he leave town?”

“There’s no telling. And if you want to know the truth, Mr. Pruitt, I’m relieved. I shouldn’t say it, but I’m relieved.”

“Could he be at a friend’s house? Who are his friends?”

“And I shouldn’t say this either, Mr. Pruitt, but I’ll say it anyway.” She took a deep breath. “I hope he’s gone for a good long time. I tell you these last two years have been hell on wheels around here. The first few years after George
drowned, I had difficulties, sure, but nothing this bad. Jeff was still under my control in those days. He came up through the grades and junior high as easy as pie. Of course Maureen was still at home then, and she had a nice way with him. Maureen had a nice way with everybody, Mr. Pruitt, you know that, you had her in twelfth grade. But ever since Maureen got married and moved to New Jersey I tell you it’s been hell on wheels around this house. I never know what’s next. There was that stolen-car thing, and the broken windows at the school, and who knows what-all else I haven’t heard about … Well, I’ve heard some things … I’ve only heard about them, mind you … Rumor, you know … I mean drugs … I don’t know … And now that little Indian girl, that Annie Bird … It’s so bad sometimes, you know what I do?”

She paused for Miles to ask what she did, but he said nothing. He didn’t want to know what she did.

“Mr. Pruitt?”

“Yes?”

“It’s so bad sometimes you know what I do?”

“No.”

“I cry.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Norquist.”

“I cry alone.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s as though the grief of George’s drowning is just now coming to me eight years late … I feel so bad … A year or so ago I started crying at night, which was bad enough, but now I cry in the morning, too. I get out of bed and sit in the breakfast nook with the coffee pot and a package of cigarettes and I look out the window and cry.”

“Have you considered a change of scene, Mrs. Norquist? Moving away and making a fresh start?”

“Have I considered it! Lord, it’s all I’ve been thinking about for the past two years. New Jersey. Near Maureen. But I wanted Jeff to finish school here … and now it’s anybody’s guess whether he’ll finish school here or anywhere.”

“He can finish. His suspension is only for two weeks.
But he’s got to attend a meeting with me tonight, and then there’s the meeting in Pike Park tomorrow at noon. If you have any idea where he might—”

“I tell you, Mr. Pruitt, I wish I was a drinker. I’ve never been one to drink, but I know a couple of women in this town who
are
drinkers. They sit home drunk every day and they’re a lot happier than I am.”

“No, they’re not, Mrs. Norquist.”

“How do you know?” She hung up.

When Miles left the house, Miss McGee sat in the front window praying the rosary for Beverly’s safe return from wherever she had gone.

At the motel, Miles found the governor’s Giant and eleven other troopers pressed together in Room 8, drinking whiskey from plastic water glasses.

“Come in,” said the Giant. But there was no room.

“Jeff Norquist has disappeared,” said Miles.

The eleven patrolmen looked at the Giant.

The Giant said, “Roadblocks.”

The men set their glasses down on the Giant’s Formica dresser top and filed majestically out the door to spend the night in their cars. The Giant held one man back. This man he sent to Berrington for a judge’s warrant to search the Norquist house.

“That won’t be necessary,” said Miles. “Jeff isn’t home. His mother wouldn’t lie to me about that.”

“You never know,” said the Giant. “We’ve got to find that kid and have him with us in Pike Park tomorrow or this whole thing is liable to blow sky-high. Now, it’s obvious to me the kid is hiding someplace right here in Staggerford. He has no car, and he wouldn’t risk hitch-hiking because he might get picked up by an Indian. My men will keep the town surrounded all night, and then at first light in the morning they’ll move in toward the center of town, searching every house if need be. We’ll find the kid by noon, I promise you that.”

After the eleven patrol cars had left the motel, Wayne
Workman drove up in his Mustang and hurried into Room 8. The Giant served whiskey.

As Miles took his drink from the Giant, it finally dawned on him why the man was less imposing today. It was not because he had taken off his hat and his holster, it was because he had taken off his dark glasses. The Giant had small eyes and drooping eyelids. Without his shades, he looked melancholy.

“Where’s Jeff?” asked Wayne.

“My men went to get him. Sit down. I want to go over tomorrow’s plans.”

Wayne turned to Miles. “You were supposed to bring Jeff,” he said.

“Sit down,” said the Giant. “Now, tomorrow at ten minutes before noon you two will leave Staggerford with Jeff Norquist and you will drive out to Pike Park, arriving at the stroke of twelve. You will drive your Mustang, Mr. Workman. You will park—”

“My Mustang? Why my Mustang? That’s a new car. There’s not a scratch on it. What’s the matter with Pruitt’s Plymouth?”

“I have already told my men it will be the yellow Mustang. It will be easy to spot from the air and from the hills across the river. We’re going to have two state troopers in a helicopter over the park and another trooper in the hills across the river. They’re going to have you in their binoculars at all times, and if they see anything like the slightest little scuffle, or if they see the approach of a mob of Indians like we had in town here yesterday, they will signal the National Guard in the gulch. The Guard will be ready to pounce. Within two minutes of the signal you will have sixty men at your side, armed to the teeth.”

“They’ll be carrying guns?” said Wayne.

“They’ll be armed to the teeth. Now I will be stationed at the entrance to the park. As you know, I have been restricted from taking part in the meeting, so technically I will not be in the park. But I will be on the shoulder of the highway and I, too, will have you under constant observation at all times. And I will have a number of troopers
patrolling the highway, keeping away Chippewas and sightseers. There’s always sightseers turning up at times like this.”

“I don’t think they should carry guns,” said Wayne.

“Now, you arrive at the Park in the yellow Mustang at twelve noon, and you drive in and park in the open area next to the pump. You got that? You pull up right next to the pump, and you park so you’re facing the river. I will try to allow only one carload of Indians into the park. That’s all they’re entitled to, one car. But if I’m shot and killed and more cars get in, don’t panic. The Guard will be on the way. But if it’s one car, and one car only, you go ahead and conduct your negotiations.”

Wayne asked, “Did you talk to the governor about the Bird kid’s tooth?”

“The governor says money is no object. Promise them we’ll pick up the tab on all the kid’s medical and dental bills. Promise them we’ll tar the street that runs through Sandhill. Promise them sewers and water. Promise them a Community Center. Promise them anything they want, as long as money will buy it and as long as it will keep peace. But promise only one thing at a time. When you negotiate, you don’t give everything away at once. You give up one thing at a time. And whatever you do, don’t let them get their hands on Norquist. If they want Norquist to get out of the car so they can give him hell, okay. But if they lay a hand on him, the Guard will come up out of the gulch.”

“Where
is
Norquist?” said Wayne.

“Never mind. My men will have him ready to go by noon tomorrow. Now, here’s another thing. When you negotiate, you must get out of your car and stand out in the open where you can be seen from all angles. Don’t under any circumstances get into an Indian’s car. Never, never get into an Indian’s car. And don’t let an Indian get into yours.”

“What if it’s raining?” said Wayne. “The forecast says rain.”

“Raining, snowing, sleeting, hailing, never get into an Indian’s car and never let an Indian into yours. “

The meeting ended. Wayne hurried out of the room and sped home in his Mustang. The Giant put on his hat and holster and offered Miles a ride. He was on his way to the Norquist house, where he intended to wait at the curb until his search warrant arrived. Miles got into the patrol car. A short-barreled shotgun stood at his left shoulder. The two-way radio made unintelligible, scratchy noises. The Giant invited Miles to wait with him in the car and help him search the Norquist house, but Miles declined. He pointed the way and the Giant drove him home. As they turned down River Street, it began to rain.