Текст книги "Dry Bones"

Автор книги: Craig Johnson

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

I looked at her matted hair. “There’s a lot of blood, but it’s a head wound and they tend to do that.”

She still shivered hard enough to break her teeth. “Where’s Dog?”

“He’s right here. You’re lucky I came over this way and that Dog found me and brought me to you.” I looked out from under the outcropping and could see that the hail had subsided but that a torrent of a thunderstorm was now washing the air like a chorus of vertical fire hoses.

“Why did you come over this way?”

Stripping off my jacket, I wrapped it around her before stepping toward the opening where I was able to stand up straight. I thought about the quad sheets on the wall at our substation in Powder Junction, the ones that told me where the major washes were in this part of my county.

I waited a moment before answering. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

The mouth of the overhang lit like a flashbulb, and she sat up a little in reaction, clutching my wet coat around her as the thunder followed. “What’s the matter?”

“I think this canyon is a wash.”

She struggled up a little more. “Meaning?”

“We’re likely to have a couple of millions of gallons of water come rushing through before long.” I shook my head. “That water’s been coming down on the mountains for hours, along with what’s been dumped out here.”

She glanced around. “Can’t we just stay in this shelter?”

We were surrounded on three sides, and I started making some quick calculations. “No. If it comes, it’s going to scour this canyon like a toilet flushing.” I cocked an ear, but there was no way I was going to hear the water until it was too late. “We’ve got to get to higher ground.”

I moved to the back of the cave and tried to get her onto her feet, but it was difficult. She bit her lip to the point that I started thinking she was going to take a hunk out of it.

“Damn it.”

I wrapped my arm around her back and under her far arm. “How bad?”

“Not bad enough to stay in here and fucking drown.” I limped her forward and looked at Dog, who had started growling. Vic looked at me as I stared at him. “That can’t be good.”

“No.” I reached down and pulled his ear in an attempt to get his attention. “Hey, you need to get out of here, too, do you hear me?” He continued to grumble. “Listen to me: when we go out of here, I want you to just climb up the hill and get away. Don’t worry about us, but I can’t carry the both of you, all right?”

He continued to look out into the cascading water, the low-pitched noise still rumbling from his chest.

Vic brought her face forward. “I know you think he understands everything you say, but short of a honey-baked ham, I think your best bet is to get us out of here and he’ll follow.”

“You’re probably right.” I took a step forward but was frozen by what I saw in a flash of lightning; the impromptu river was only a few feet below the lip of the overhang’s floor.

Vic followed my eyes as the thunder echoed off the rock walls. “Oh, shit.”

Realizing we had only minutes, I turned right and then left, trying to spot a way out, but the rock was solid at the sides. My eyes went to the overhanging ledge, and I came up with a desperate idea. “I’m putting you over the top.”

“What?”

“I’ll lift you up, and you can climb without putting weight on that ankle, and then I’ll either take Dog with me or lift him up to you.”

She looked doubtful. “He must weigh a hundred and fifty pounds.”

I nodded. “That’s all right; I’ll lift and he’ll scramble so both of you will get out.”

“And what about you?”

“I’ll be fine. I can climb my way around the side and scramble up—I just can’t do it carrying both of you.”

As much as she hated it, she knew I was right. She hopped forward on the one good leg and turned to look at me. “You didn’t answer my question.”

I laced my fingers together, providing a stirrup from which I could lift her easily. “Which question?”

She rested her hands on my shoulders. “Why did you come this way?”

I raised my face to look at her. “It doesn’t matter.”

“You saw him again, didn’t you?” The tarnished gold eyes bore into mine, and I could tell for maybe once in my life that she wasn’t joking. “Danny Lone Elk—you saw him again.”

I stood there with my laced fingers and stooped shoulders, staring at her and finally nodding. “I did.”

She said the next words carefully. “I saw him, too.”

I thought I might’ve misunderstood her. “What?”

“Danny Lone Elk, dressed exactly like he was when we fished him out of the Turtle Pond. He was standing on the ridge and I saw him. That’s why I fell—I couldn’t believe it and wasn’t watching where I was going and slipped off the ledge.”

I shook my head. “I think you’re hanging out with me too much. C’mon!”

She slipped the distressed limb into my cupped hands but then thought again and used her left. “I’m thinking I’ll get better purchase if I try with my good ankle.”

I nodded. “Let’s go.”

She stepped up, and I lifted her skyward into the falling rain as she traced her hands across the top in an attempt to find something to hold on to. A few pieces of rock scaled from above, and I kept my face down, trying to limit the damage.

“I can’t get any leverage!”

I pushed her up further, but it seemed as if I was still holding all of her weight. I stood there, trying not to move, but I knew there was a limit to how long I could hold her.

Dog stayed at my side, but his attention was still directed up, almost as if there was something he was focused on; I just hoped it wasn’t the floodwaters preparing to wash us away any second.

There was another flash, and as I looked past Vic’s legs, an image burned into my retinas—the black silhouette of a large Indian standing on the ledge across the canyon, his dark, wet hair covering his face as he breathed with an incredible effort, his shoulders drawing back and then collapsing with each breath.

I blinked, but whether it was from the blinding effects of the lightning or the inky darkness of the storm, I couldn’t see anything. “Vic?”

Her legs moved a little, but I could feel her slipping as the thunder shook the ground. I had to make sure I pulled her in if she started to go backward into the rushing water, which was now lapping at my feet.

Dog’s barking grew to a frenzy as I stood there like a sitting and likely drowned duck. I stared into the darkness and laughed, wanting to scream at the ghost of Danny Lone Elk to help us.

There was another extended zigzag of lightning that ran the ridge overhead, and I could see that there was no one standing in the spot where I’d seen something before.

Nothing.

I was about to drop my head and concentrate on the task at hand when, in the very last bit of illumination, I saw him leap from the far ledge and seemingly float across the canyon like a mountain lion, finally disappearing overhead as rocks slid down onto us.

Unbelievable.

Dog was going crazy as the thunder provided a counterpoint to the impossible, when suddenly Vic’s weight vanished, and I was standing there with nothing in my arms. Whatever it was, it had taken her.

There was another blink of lightning, and a powerful hand, caked with mud and blood, thrust down from the ledge almost as if from a grave in the sky. It was as large as my own, broad and muscled, and was flexing as if to indicate that I better hand something else up and right soon.

Without pause, I grabbed Dog and lifted him. The hand grabbed his collar while the other buried its powerful fingers into the thick fur of the animal’s back, and he too vanished with a yelp.

A few more rocks slid from above, and I looked down to see a rush of water flowing against my legs and figured I’d better try my luck with the rocks to either side. I had just waded to my left when the hand appeared again.

I laughed. It was one thing to lift a hundred-and-thirty-pound woman, and even another to lift a hundred-and-fifty-pound dog, but I was something altogether different. The hand flexed, and I figured what the hell—if the ghost of Danny Lone Elk thought he was strong enough to reach out from the Camp of the Dead and save me from a watery grave, then who was I to argue?

Throwing a hand up, I felt the powerful fingers clasp mine like cables and, unbelievably, felt my feet leave the ground as if I were being hoisted by the sky crane of a Sikorsky helicopter.

I jammed my armpit into the shale, as the other hand grasped my upper arm like a number 6 bear trap and pulled me over the edge. The rain poured all around us, and the lightning flamed again and glowed, illuminating the perfect, flashing grin in the dark, shrouded face of Henry Standing Bear.

7

I set the bag full of Danny Lone Elk’s prescription drugs between my boots and leaned forward on the Durant Memorial Hospital waiting room sofa. Pulling the Mallo Cup play money card from my pocket, I studied it. “So, it wasn’t you?”

The Cheyenne Nation played with the bandage on his hand where he’d received a few stitches in honor of his rough landing across the canyon cliffs, and stretched the expandable wrap so that the bandage was looser. “Of course not.”

“How did you know where we were?”

“I called Ruby, and she said you had gone to the Lone Elk Ranch to ask Randy some questions. I thought I might be of help, so I went there and they told me you had gone to the dig site.” The Bear reached down and thumped Dog on his side, which was built like a barrel. “When I got there, your truck was parked but the three of you were gone, and it was hailing, sleeting, and raining, so I hiked up the ridge and that is when I heard this one barking.”

I continued to study the card in my hands. “Lucky us.”

He smiled. “Lucky all of you, except for your truck.”

I glanced out at my dented vehicle, the sheet metal marked like a kid with the chicken pox. “Yep, I guess I’m going to have to get some bodywork done.” I also looked at his battered ranch truck, parked beside mine. “Good thing you were driving Rezdawg. No breakdowns?”

He shook his head. “No, the rain puts out the fires under the hood.”

I nodded and eased back into the sofa, for once the only one without wounds. “So it wasn’t you out on the ridge, which begs the question.”

He nodded. “You say the young man, Taylor, has had these same visions?”

“Yep.”

“And Vic?”

“Yep.”

He turned to look at me. “And you?”

“Yep.”

He looked at the mauve carpet, the mauve walls, the mauve furniture, and then back at me, probably just trying to focus on something that wasn’t mauve. “Interesting. You see, without his eyes, Danny’s spirit is condemned to wander this plane of existence without rest.”

“Well, he’s been getting around a lot lately.”

He grunted. “For a blind dead man?”

“Yep.” I sat forward. “So, this is touchy stuff, huh?”

“It can be.” He looked up at the ceiling. “Randy is now the leader of the family, but his uncle Enic is the religious one. Since Randy does not care about such things, he has given him that mantle. We will have to do numerous transfer rites to prepare Danny for the Hanging Road and the Camp of the Dead, along with a wake for the white man’s heaven.”

“Even if the blinding was accidental?”

“Do we know that for sure?”

I nodded. “According to Isaac. But you can have a look at the body yourself, seeing as we’re in the hospital.”

His voice took on a serious tone. “If the blinding was accidental, it could be even more serious.” He cocked his head. “Acts of man are one thing but acts of nature another. Turtles are big medicine, and there will be questions as to how this could have come to be.”

“Autopsy?”

He smiled and shook his head. “Not likely with him being a Traditional.” He looked at me. “Why? You suspect that somebody also took his life?”

“Maybe.” I picked up the bag of drugs and tossed them onto the sofa. “So, were the Lone Elks surprised to see you?”

“Why?”

“Your name came up in the conversation when we were down there.”

He flexed the hand that had lifted all three of us to safety. “Ahhh . . .”

I stood and, walking to the plate-glass window, gazed at the steady rain. “Why would someone be impersonating Danny Lone Elk?” The Bear turned to look at me. “Don’t tell me the thought hasn’t crossed your mind.”

He shrugged. “It is possible, I suppose.”

I turned and showed him the Mallo Cup card that I’d found near the dig. “Is this supposed to mean something other than you have accumulated five points toward a five-hundred-point two-dollar rebate?”

“When I was on the mountain with Virgil White Buffalo, he was eating Mallo Cups and saying they were his favorites. He even left me one at the top of Cloud Peak.”

Henry reached down and brushed his thumb on the fur between Dog’s eyes. “I do not suppose you know if this one saw him?”

Before I could answer, David Nickerson came through the swinging doors, spoke briefly with Janine, my dispatcher’s granddaughter and the hospital receptionist, and then approached us. “Well, we’re not going to have to put her down.”

“That’s good news.”

“But she’s getting the boot and crutches.”

“Oh, that’s not going to be fun.”

David smiled and shook his head. “She’s not a good patient.”

The Cheyenne Nation stood and handed me back the card. “You noticed?”

“When we manipulated the ankle, I’m not sure I’ve ever heard language like that in those combinations since high school football.”

“In that particular discipline, she’s kind of an artist in her own right.” Thinking it might be wise to check the progress of the plane coming into Sheridan, I pulled out my pocket watch, though I was pretty sure that it was likely to be delayed because of the weather. “Can we see her?”

“Sure.”

I stuffed the candy card in my jacket pocket. “Can I bring Dog?”

 • • •

Vic was sitting on a gurney in the open area of the ER with some curtains partially pulled to afford her a little privacy but doing little to protect the ears of her fellow patients.

“Motherfucker.”

Her classification was seemingly directed at Henry, who placed a hand on his chest in all innocence. “Moi?”

“What the hell were you doing out there impersonating Danny Lone Elk?”

“It was not I.”

“Bullshit.”

“It wasn’t him.” I raised a hand in his defense. “When he got there, he arrived from the same direction that we came from.” I walked over to the gurney and examined the bandage wrapped around her skull, Dog following, placing his heavy head next to her hand. “When you saw the figure, where was it?”

Not taking her eyes off the Bear, she responded, “On that ridge across the canyon.”

“Well, when I first saw him he jumped the cliffs from the west, and I don’t think anybody in their right mind would make that jump once let alone two times.”

Henry grunted. “In all actuality, the western cliff is slightly higher than the one under which the three of you were taking cover. I do not think you could make that same jump in the other direction—at least I could not.” He held up his bandaged hand. “I barely made it once.”

She folded her arms. “I take back the motherfucker.”

“Thank you.” He smiled. “I have a question for you.”

“Shoot.”

He lip-pointed at Dog. “Did he see Danny, too?”

Vic looked at Dog and then back at the Cheyenne Nation. “He did; he barked at whoever it was when I was standing there—barked more than once.”

The Bear spread his hands. “Human.”

I glanced at him. “You’re sure?”

“Of course not.”

“Well, that’s helpful.”

“Animals react differently. There is an old wives’ tale that if an animal responds to a spirit, then you can look between the animal’s ears and see that spirit.”

Vic ventured an opinion. “Old wives are full of shit.”

“A lot of the time I’m afraid they are, yes.”

I glanced at the ER doctor, who seemed to be enjoying the conversation. “Dr. Dave, is your accomplice in billing around?” He looked at me blankly. “Isaac?”

“Oh, he’s taking a nap in his office.”

“Could you go get him? I’ve got a few questions I need to ask.”

He was disappointed to leave.

I turned back to the Bear. “So what’s your basis for thinking the figure was living?”

He shrugged. “Two different species seeing the same apparition at the same time is rather unlikely.”

“But not impossible.”

“No.” He started to push his hair back but was impaired by the stitches, so he reached down and placed his hands on the railing of the gurney instead. “But there is a more important question here.”

“Who would benefit from Danny Lone Elk still being alive?”

He smiled the paper-cut-thin signature smile. “More important, who would benefit from you believing Danny Lone Elk is still alive?”

“Was Enic at the house when you stopped?”

He thought about it. “Why Enic?”

“Because he’s physically the closest to Danny; he lives there, and in that he might now be part owner of the ranch, he might have a hand in this.”

“That’s quite a leap. Enic, like Danny, went through a period where he drank heavily, but to my knowledge he has never done anything illegal.”

“Randy mentioned something about him having a drinking problem in his past.”

He nodded. “A long time ago—that is what led him to the path he walks now. He was drunk up in Billings and got into a fight with a group of men who beat him senseless. He was able to drag himself to an abandoned car where he slept that night . . .” He paused. “. . . in January, when the temperature dropped to minus twenty-seven degrees.” He exhaled strongly, as if trying to get the smell of the story from his nostrils. “And in answer to your question, no, I did not see Enic when I was there. The only ones I spoke to were Randy and Eva.”

“Well, in his defense, he was supposedly in the calving shed when we left, which makes it hard to believe that he could’ve gotten down to the site and positioned himself in the time it took us to get there.”

Vic was petting Dog and glancing between the two of us.

“Hey, Henry, you ever heard of a doctor up on the Rez by the name of Joseph Free Bird?”

Covering his face with his good hand, he croaked, “Oh, no.” He peered at us through his fingers. “How is he involved with this?”

“He was Danny Lone Elk’s doctor.”

“Not Indian—he is a nutcase drug dealer, a plastic medicine man, and a charlatan at that.”

“Evidently he’s doctor enough to have a license to write prescriptions.”

The Cheyenne Nation shook his head. “He lives in Hardin and has what he calls a clinic there. He pretends to care for people who are Traditional and has a mail-order business where he sells bags of buffalo shit and other assorted items as medicinal. There’s also a rumor that he traffics in drugs with the Tre Tre Nomads.”

I glanced at Vic. “Maybe we can get a second opinion on your ankle.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’ve attempted to reach him by phone four times now, Walter, but he doesn’t appear to want to talk to me, or maybe it’s because you are involved?” Isaac had entered the room and continued around Henry to look at the patient as I handed him the bag of prescription drugs. “This isn’t buffalo dung, is it?”

“Danny’s medications.”

The doc opened the bag as Nickerson reappeared at the door. “Did we get a confirmation on whether dogs can see ghosts when we can’t?”

I shot a look at him.

He raised a hand. “Just wondering.” He retreated through the door. “I’ve got some rye whiskey to go test.”

Isaac looked through the bag of medications, adjusted his thick glasses, and made a face. “I’m not sure what half of these are, let alone if they should be prescribed in combination with each other.”

Vic poked me with one of her crutches. “We’re going to Hardin, aren’t we, aren’t we?”

I sighed. “Try not to be so excited about it.”

 • • •

When we got back to the office, it was easier to just carry Vic from the truck than let her manage in the rain, and when we approached the door, both Robert Hall and Bob Delude held it wide for the four of us.

Robert shook his head, stepping aside as Bob ushered us in. “Is this the kind of service you get in this outfit, ’cause I’m signing up.”

“I thought Mr. Trost gave you guys your walking papers.”

Robert shut the door after Henry, who was carrying the crutches and was rewarded with having Dog shake off on him. “The commandant says to hang, so we’re hanging.” He shrugged toward the courthouse lawn. “The rain appears to have cut down on the protesters.”

“Which of you guys pissed Trost off?”

They each pointed at the other.

I continued up the stairs with Vic, Dog in tow, and paused at the top to call down to them, “Well, come on up, we’ve got coffee.”

The troopers trooped up the steps as I deposited Vic on the wooden bench, and, turning to face the power-that-is, nodded to Ruby.

“I heard you almost drowned.”

I gestured toward Henry as he gave Vic back her crutches. “Wasn’t my idea, but thanks for sending the cavalry.”

The HPs helped themselves to some of my dispatcher’s coffee, Bob pouring for the two of them.

“Speaking of, where are Eliot Ness and the rest of the Untouchables, anyway?”

Ruby shook her head in disgust. “They’re in the back with more stuff.”

“More? We don’t have any room for more.”

“That’s what I told them, but they came in with more and put it in the rest of the holding cells.”

I shook my head. “Well, that’s it then, we might as well close up shop because we can’t arrest anybody—we don’t have anywhere to put them.”

Vic pulled herself up, and Henry helped her with the crutches. “I’m going home and nurse my ankle with a bottle of wine. If anybody wants me, tell them to fuck off.”

I spoke after her as she crutched down the hall, “You’re not going to the airport with me?”

She called back, gesturing toward the HPs, “I figure you can handle it yourself. Hell, take the Dudley Do-Rights with you.”

When we got back to the holding cells, there was nowhere to stand, so we stood in the doorway and watched as McGroder and his men continued to catalogue, list, and take pictures of everything they had confiscated from the High Plains Dinosaur Museum. “You guys are putting me out of business. I don’t have any place for the bad guys.”

The agent in charge stood, stretching his back, and I noticed that now they were wearing their polo shirts and rainproof windbreakers with the three-letter insignia on the back. “What about the jail downstairs?”

“That’s for serious customers. I try and keep the hoi polloi up here.”

McGroder’s smile grew as he noticed my companion, struggled his way through some boxes, and stuck out his hand to the Cheyenne Nation. “Mr. Standing Bear, sir, good to see you.”

Henry shook his hand. “Agent.”

He gestured toward me. “I understand you had to save his life again?”

The Bear nodded. “It is becoming something of a habit.”

“Sheriff.” The voice rang from somewhere within one of the cells, but I couldn’t see him.

“Deputy U.S. Attorney.”

“Can I have a word with you?”

I looked around for some sort of path. “Certainly, but you’ll have to come out here, since I can’t get in there.”

After a moment, he appeared around the corner, and I noticed that today he wasn’t wearing makeup. “I’d like to speak with you in private.”

I glanced around at the boxes. “Doesn’t seem possible.”

“Now.”

I thought I might’ve misheard him. “Excuse me?”

He emphasized each word. “Right. Now.”

I stood there looking at him, aware that nobody else in the room was moving. “Well, go ahead then.”

A smug look seeped across his face as he stared at me. “I think you might prefer we did it in private.”

“I’ll do my own thinking. How can I help you, Mr. Trost?”

He glanced around and then, satisfied that he’d given enough of a dramatic pause, continued. “I don’t think you’re taking our case very seriously.”

I waited the exact same amount of time before replying. “Our case.”

He gestured around the room at the copious boxes and files. “Jen.”

I wanted to laugh but figured that wasn’t likely to make the situation any better. “Acting Deputy Attorney, I have made my time, staff, and facility available to you. What else exactly is it you need?”

“Your complete attention.”

“Oh, you’ve got it right now.”

“I mean for the tenure of the investigation.”

“Well, you see, I do have other responsibilities, one of which concerns, as you have noted, a potential homicide, and I think that takes precedence over your sixty-five-million-year-old cold case.” He didn’t say anything, so I continued. “Why don’t you tell me exactly what the problem here is, and then we can both get on with our jobs.”

“I was not impressed with your performance this morning.”

“At the press conference.”

“Yes.”

“Performance.”

“Yes.”

“Mr. Trost, in case you aren’t aware, my job is to enforce the laws and protect the lives and property of the people of Absaroka County; anything beyond that is my prerogative. I have conveyed to you and your department the utmost in professional courtesy and will continue to do so as long as it doesn’t interfere with the performance of my sworn duties.”

His smile faded. “I’ve got another press conference with a few national outlets this afternoon, and I’d like you to be there.”

“I have other responsibilities.”

This time he paused even longer before speaking. “I suggest you reorganize your schedule.”

“I have an appointment that can’t be broken.” And with that, I turned and walked out of the room.

 • • •

On the drive to Sheridan, the Bear, having decided to keep me company, gave me his take on the brief exchange. “I think it is safe to assume that you’ve been removed from his Christmas card list.”

“That’s all right, I’m not real fond of him, either.”

“I also think you should anticipate a call from the attorney general of the state of Wyoming.”

“That’s okay, him I like.”

He glanced out the window at Lake DeSmet, the rain having let up a bit, with glimmers of the afternoon sun reflecting off the surface of the water in a brassy gold. “Thank you for caring about Danny Lone Elk.” He reached back and scratched under Dog’s chin. “I know you are under a lot of pressure right now, so if no one else has said it—thank you.”

I brushed off the kindness, slightly embarrassed. “Well, it might all be a part of the same case.”

“Maybe, and then again, maybe not.”

Anxious to change the subject, I asked about the cursory observations he’d made of Danny’s body while I’d collected Vic and her paraphernalia. “So, did the turtles do it?”

“The turtles did it.”

I thought about it. “I’m not sure why, but that makes me feel better.”

“I am not so sure why, either.” He turned in the seat to look at me. “And I am not sure why you do.”

“Oh.”

“Now, on to important matters.” He glanced out the windshield at the fresh, newly washed landscape. “Is Vic coming to terms with her little brother marrying and having a child with your daughter?”

I hadn’t told anyone about the damage done to my undersheriff or the fact that she had lost a child and now could have none, but it seemed like the Bear was intuiting, something he was pretty good at. “She doesn’t have a lot of say in it, and Michael just goes with the flow . . . It’s one of his many good qualities.”

“The whole family is coming?”

“Just Cady and the baby. Michael was scheduled for some time off, but from what I understand, he’s got a new sergeant who’s trying to make things hard on him, so he’s having to pull second watch for the next week.”

“Life in the Philadelphia Police Department.”

“Especially if you are the son of the Chief of Detectives North.”

He nodded and took a deep breath. “Your granddaughter is five months old. She needs a name.”

I made a face the way I always did whenever I was reminded that my granddaughter was named for a ’59 Thunderbird convertible. “She’s got a name. In case you’ve forgotten, she’s named after your damn car.”

“I mean a real name.”

Henry Standing Bear, Heads Man of the Dog Soldier Society, Dog Soldier Clan, was offering my granddaughter a Cheyenne name. “Don’t you think she’s a little young?”

He shrugged. “We’re all here, and if you make a run up to Hardin, we could stop in Lame Deer and arrange something with Lonnie and the tribe.” He turned his head and looked out the window. “Are you heading up tomorrow?”

I smiled. “That’s what I was thinking.”

“I will come and make arrangements.”

“I’ll buy you breakfast at the Blue Cow Café.”

“Deal.”

Cady’s Cheyenne name was Sweet Grass Woman, and I wondered if it would have an effect on the choice for Lola. “Have you been thinking about a name?”

“Yes.”

“Care to share it with me?”

“No.”

“Okay.” We drove on, and, thinking I was making small talk, I asked, “So, what do you think of my granddaughter?”

“She is a great deal like you.”

I felt a sharp wave of fleeting self-satisfaction. “You think?”

“Yes, and it will lead to problems with her mother.”

I glanced at him. “Huh?”

“Your granddaughter and you are too much alike, and you will be something of a burden to her for the majority of your lives.”

I laughed and drove on. “She’s only five months old, and you haven’t seen her since she was a newborn—you don’t think you might be jumping the gun here a little bit?”

“I have seen the two of you together.”

“I thought we got along pretty well.”

“Yes, and she will come to see you as the sun, the moon, the stars, and all that is.” He still didn’t look at me. “And this will be very hard for you to live up to; eventually you will fail and she will have to reassess, which will be difficult for her.”

“Well, thanks for the vote of confidence on both our parts.” I glanced at him again. “So when is this cataclysmic event supposed to happen, when she’s nine months old?”

He shot me a look from the corner of one eye.

“You know, between you, Danny Lone Elk, and Virgil White Buffalo, I could use a good word every now and then from the great beyond, okay?”

 • • •

To everyone’s surprise, including the airline’s, the flight from Denver arrived on time.

Henry and I were both standing there watching the turboprop unload. Not unexpectedly, my daughter and granddaughter were the last ones off the plane, a gentleman I knew helping Cady carry the paraphernalia down the steps. Lola was screeching, but I was able to say hello to Dennis Kervin, an attorney from Durant.

He handed Henry a diaper bag and other assorted essentials, Cady following. “That granddaughter of yours has the lungs of a Metropolitan Opera star.”

“Sorry about that.”

I wasn’t able to add more as a tall redhead with cool, gray eyes unceremoniously handed me the screaming bundle along with her cell phone. “Here, take her. I need a minute.” She turned and marched off toward the bathrooms.