When the Women Come out to Dance (2002) (9 page)

You'd hear him call out 'Fire in the hole,' to clear the shaft.

She'd blow and we'd go back in to dig out the pieces. W
e weren't what you'd call buddies, but you work a deep min e with a man you look out for each other."

Art Mullen said, "Fire in the hole, uh?" in a thoughtfu
l kind of way.

"I hate to say he was good at it," Raylan said, and sippe
d his coffee, still back all those years in his mind. "I remembe r when we struck Eastover and Duke Power brought in scab s and gun thugs? Their cars'd drive in, Boyd'd be waiting t o swing at 'em with a wrecking bar. He was put in jail twice.

Then when he shot one of the scabs, almost killed him, Boy
d took off and I heard he joined the army. Came out and wha t happened, he went to prison?"

"Came out pissing and moaning," Art said, " 'cause we qui
t in Vietnam 'stead of getting it done. He bought a truck an d went to work hauling timber for the mines. Ten years neve r paid his income tax, refused to, claiming he was a sovereig n citizen. The U
. S
. attorney sent him to Alderson. That's wher e he got into what they call the patriot movement. You read hi s sheet?"

"I've only had time to skim it so far," Raylan said. "He'
s been busy, huh? Has his own army now, bunch of serious morons sieg-heilin' each other?"

"More serious'n you think," Art said. "Boyd's got 'em making horseshit bombs, fertilizer and fuel oil. They drive to a town like Somerset, blow up somebody's car to get the polic e busy and go rob a bank."

Raylan was nodding. "I saw it in a Steve McQueen movie."

"Well, these people aren't movie actors." Art leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk. "Lemme tell you about this guy they found at the Cincinnati airport, sitting in hi s new Chevy Blazer shot through the back of the head. This i s Jared, on file with the Bureau as some kind of Aryan knight.

Oklahoma driver's license and registration."

"You put him with Boyd?"

"Lemme get to it," Art said. "This is good. Just the nigh
t before, a black church in Cincinnati--they called it a stree t mission in the paper--was blown up."

Raylan was frowning. "It was a church? I caught only par
t of it on the news."

Art held up one hand. "Listen to me. Four witnesses say
a guy got out of the Blazer with what looked like a bazooka an d fired it into the church. But right before, you know what h e said, yelled it out? 'Fire in the hole.' "

Raylan straightened. He said, "Come on . . ." his interes
t picking up.

"All four witnesses heard it. So now evidence techs g
o through the Blazer. They find this little cardboard cylinder you hook onto the back of an RPG rocket. It holds the juice , the propellant. One he must've missed."

"So you got the dead guy with Boyd."

"It would seem, huh? But first," Art said, "we want to pu
t Boyd and the dead guy at the church. What's interesting, it'
s only kind of a church. The pastor, it turns out, Israel Fandi, i s one of the witnesses. Only at first he won't admit who he i s till people start pointing at him. Israel wears an African outfit, a dashiki and a little pillbox hat and talks like he's Rastafarian. You know what I mean?"

"Ethiopian," Raylan said. "By way of Jamaica. I remembe
r now on the news they said it was believed the people smoke d ganja as part of the service."

"They smoked it, they sold it--the place was a dope stor
e passing as a church. It blew," Art said, "there was free grass al l over the block. This was three days ago. Since then we got th e Cincinnati police to loan us Israel Fandi. He's in a holding cel l downstairs, but claims he didn't see the man's face had th e bazooka. I said to him, 'Israel, you see him in a lineup, th e man we know blew up your church, you might change you r mind.'"

"The power of suggestion," Raylan said.

"Without holding the marijuana over his head. We'll sav
e it. Next thing is to pick up Boyd, if he's still around."

"What've you got on him otherwise?"

"The U
. S
. attorney wants to collect indictments under a charge of sedition. That he did willfully and knowingly e t cetera conspire to overthrow, put down and destroy by forc e the government of the United States."

"But what've you got you can take to court?"

"Only bits and pieces of evidence."

"Then he's most likely still around," Raylan said.

"Well, he's got sympathizers. Half the people living up i
n the hollers around here," Art said, "are on welfare but stil l don't trust the government, won't talk to census takers.

Boyd's mother and his ex-wife are in Evarts. His skinhead
s train at a place up on Sukey Ridge, what he calls his Christia n Aggression Church. Signs on the trees say you approach a t your own risk, as the road's been mined."

"You let him get away with that?"

"ATF swept it. There aren't any mines. Another house, on
e he used to own up on Black Mountain? It's been under foreclosure since he went to prison. We want to sell it to cover his back taxes, but Boyd's put the word out, anybody buys th e house, he'll blow it up."

"I remember," Raylan said, "they used to raise marijuan
a crops up there, acres of plants all the way down across the Virginia line."

"They're still growing it, but that's not our business, busting dopers.''

"No, but what I was thinking," Raylan said, "Israel bein
g into weed, what if you sold the house to him? Say for a hundred bucks or so." He had Art starting to grin. "And you let Boyd know a black guy's living in his house."

Not a bad idea, Art saying yeah, that coul
d bring him out. Saying then, "There's another situation coul d do it. You know Bowman, Boyd's brother?"

Raylan saw him in a football uniform. "Sorta. He was a star running back in high school--this was after I got out. Boy d was always talking about him, how Bowman had the good s and would go on to play college ball and become a pro. I wa s never that sure."

Art said, "You remember the girl he married, Ava?"

Raylan's tone came alive as he said, "Ava, yeah, she live
d down the street from us." He remembered her eyes. "She'
s married to Bowman?"

"Was," Art said. "She ended the union the other day with
a thirty-ought-six, plugged him through the heart."

It stopped Raylan. He remembered a cute little darkhaired girl about sixteen and how she tried to act older, flirting, working her brown eyes on him. He remembered her sassy cheerleader moves on the field Friday nights, the girls i n blue and gold doing their routines, and his eyes would b e on Ava the whole time. Too young or he would've gon e after her.

He said to Art, "You talk to her?"

"She admits shooting him. Ava said she got tired of hi
m getting drunk and beating her up. She was arraigned thi s morning. Her lawyer had her plead not guilty to first and second degree and she was released on her own recognizance. Unusual, but the prosecutor, knowing Bowman, would just as soon not bring her up. They'll work out a plea deal."

"Where is she now?"

"Went home. I told her, you know Boyd's gonna com
e looking for you. She said it's none of our business. I told her i t is if he shoots you. You want to talk to her?"

"I wouldn't mind," Raylan said.

V.

She'd be fixing her face to go to work at Betty'
s Hair Salon, and Bowman would say, "Who you think you are , Ava Gardner? You don't look nothing like her."

Ava had quit trying to get it through his head no on
e ever said she did. The day she was born her daddy named he r Ava on account of Ava Gardner saying she was a country gir l at heart with a country girl's values. He had read it somewhere and believed it and would remind her as she was growing up, "See, even a good-looking woman don't have to put on airs."

She married Bowman a year out of high school because h
e was cute, because he was sure of himself and told her he'
d never work in a goddamn coal mine. He'd wear the blue an d white of the University of Kentucky and after that get drafte d by a pro team; he wouldn't mind the Cowboys. But college s either wouldn't accept his grades or didn't think he was goo d enough. He blamed her for their getting married and takin g his mind off staying in shape so he could try out at som e school as a walk-on. She said, "Honey, if your grade-point average sucks . . ." Uh-unh, that had nothing to do with it, it was her fault. Everything was. It was her fault he had to di g coal. Her own fault he hit her. If she didn't nag at him h e wouldn't have to. Unless he slapped her for the way she wa s looking at him. He'd start drinking Jim Beam and Die t Coke--ate like a hog and drank diet soda--and she'd see i t coming as his disposition turned from stupid to ugly an d pretty soon he'd be slapping her, hard. She ran way to Corbi n and got a job at the Holiday Inn waiting tables. Bowma n found her and brought her back saying he missed her an d would try to tolerate her acting up. It was her fault she miscarried after he'd beat her with his belt. Her fault h e didn't have a son he could take hunting with him and hi s creepy brother. She told Bowman there were times he wasn'
t home Boyd would stop by wanting a drink, and if she gav e him one he'd start getting funny, "your own brother." Bowman whipped her for telling him, kept after her with his belt till she fell and hit her head on the stove.

This was the other night. She got up from the floor knowing he would never hit her again.

The next day, Saturday, he walked in smelling of beer an
d gunfire, like nothing had happened the night before. She ha d his supper on the table, ham and yams, cream-style corn an d leftover okra fixed with tomatoes, because she wanted him sitting down. Once he'd poured his Jim Beam and Diet Coke and took his place at the table, Ava went in the kitchen close t and came out with Bowman's Winchester. He looked up an d said with his mouth full of sweet potato what sounded lik e "The hell you doing with that?"

Ava said, "I'm gonna shoot you, you dummy," and she did
, blew him out of the chair.

When the prosecutor asked if she had loaded the rifle before firing it, she paused no more than a second before telling him Bowman always kept it loaded.

Raylan was told Bowman himself couldn't fin
d his house when he was drunk. Go on up along the Clove r Fork, or take the Gas Road out to the diversion tunnels an d turn right down to a road bears east where a sign says JESUS
SAVES, and it ain't far; start looking for a red Dodge pickup i n the yard.

It was one-story with aluminum awnings set high amon
g pines. Raylan got out of the Lincoln Town Car--one Art ha d taken off some convicted felon and given to Raylan to use-GCo a nd crossed the yard past the Dodge pickup to the front door.

It opened and he was looking at a woman in a soile
d T-shirt worn over an old housedress that hung on her, her dar k hair a mess. Ava was forty now, but he knew those eyes starin g at him and she knew him, saying, "Oh my God--Raylan," i n kind of a prayerful tone.

He stepped into a room with bare walls, worn carpeting,
a sofa. "You remember me, huh?"

Ava pushed the door closed. She said, "I never forgot you,"
a nd went into his arms as he offered them, a girl he used t o like now a woman who'd shot and killed her husband an d wanted to be held. He could tell, he could feel her hand s holding on to him. She raised her face to say, "I can't believ e you're here." He kissed her on the cheek. She kept staring a t him with those eyes and he kissed her on the mouth. No w they kept looking at each other until Raylan took off his ha t and sailed it over to the sofa. He saw her eyes close, her hand s slipping around his neck, and this time it became a seriou s kiss, their mouths finding the right fit and holding till finall y they had to breathe. Now he didn't know what to say. H
e didn't know why he kissed her other than he wanted to. H
e could remember wanting to even when she was a teen.

"I had a crush on you," Ava said, "from the time I wa
s twelve years old. I knew you liked me, but you didn't want t o show it."

"You were too young." "I was sixteen when you left. I heard you got married. Ar e you still?"

Raylan shook his head. "Turned out to be a mistake."

"You want to talk about mistakes . . . I told Bowman I
w anted a divorce? He goes, 'You file, you'll never be see n again.' Said I'd disappear from the face of the earth."

"I hear he used to beat you up."

"That last time--I've still got a knot where I fell and hi
t my head on the stove. You want to feel it?" She was touchin g her scalp, fingers probing into her wild-looking hair, and he r expression changed. She said, "Oh my God, don't look at me,"
p ulling the T-shirt over her head, the hem of the housedres s rising to show her legs hurrying away from him. "Close you r eyes, I don't want you to see me like this." But then sh e stopped before going in the bedroom and looked back at him.