Come Sundown, Page 45

  * * *

  Tate got his statements, got his pictures, and however heavy it sat on him, accepted his duty.

  He drove to Clintok’s, the cabin tucked away on his family’s ranch. Clintok’s truck and ATV sat under an open shelter attached to the cabin, just as they’d been when Tate had gone by the night before.

  And just as he had the night before, Clintok stepped out of the cabin onto the narrow porch.

  He wore sweatpants, a sweatshirt ripped off at the elbows, and a skin of sweat. Tate concluded he’d been pumping iron for a while, one of Clintok’s favorite pastimes.

  “Garrett.”

  “Sheriff. Curtis,” he added when the deputy got out the passenger door. “What can I do for you?”

  “Well, Garrett, it’s like this. You have the right to remain silent—”

  “What the hell bullshit is this?”

  Tate just continued reading off the Miranda warning. “We all know you understand your rights, but do you want to confirm that?”

  “Fuck you.”

  When Clintok turned away, yanked open the cabin door, Curtis moved in. “Come on now, Garrett, don’t go making it harder than it is.”

  He made it harder by slamming a fist into Curtis’s jaw. Cursing, Tate surged forward to help Curtis muscle Clintok to the ground.

  “You’re under goddamn arrest,” Tate snapped. “Get those cuffs on him, Curtis, goddamn it. Resisting arrest, striking a police officer.”

  “I am a police officer.”

  “Not anymore you’re not. You’re under arrest for discharging a firearm on private property, and for attempted murder.”

  “You’re out of your fucking mind.”

  “I got witnesses, for Christ’s sake.” Together they dragged Clintok to his feet. “I’m adding lying to a police officer to the list. When I came by here yesterday you said you hadn’t had that ATV out in a week. And it was as clean as a whistle. Just washed clean. I’ve got witnesses, damn it to hell and back, Garrett, who saw you riding it on the resort, saw you heading it up on the road above Black Angus.”

  “Skinner’s a goddamn liar.”

  “Six people saw you. Six. And we got the bullet Bickers dug out of that horse.” That was a lie, but Tate was done with playing fair. “When we test your long guns, get ballistics done, what do you think we’re going to find?”

  He saw it, the panic, the flush of fury, the quick cut away of the eyes. “I want a lawyer. I want a lawyer now. I’ve got nothing to say.”

  “You’ll get a lawyer. Get him in the back, Curtis. I can’t even look at him. One of my men, one of my own, trying to backshoot a man like that.”

  The accusation had Clintok kicking out, elbow jabbing. “Skinner killed those two women, and you do nothing. He kills them, and you suspend me for dogging him for it. He deserved having his horse shot out from under him. He deserved worse.”

  Tate’s face looked like a mask of fury carved in stone before he shoved Clintok back against the truck. “You were aiming for the horse? Is that what you’re claiming now?”

  “You did nothing.”

  “I’m doing something now.”

  * * *

  It tore up his gut, questioning one of his deputies—former—dealing with the pip-squeak of a lawyer. It didn’t help the knotting and twisting that Clintok proved pitifully simple to trip up.

  Maybe it soothed some to stand in the Longbows’ kitchen and watch out the window as Alice carefully led the recovering horse around the paddock with Callen limping by her side.

  “Her progress is really remarkable.” Celia Minnow watched with him.

  “Is she going to remember more about the captivity?”

  “I wish I could tell you. I can tell you she’s stronger, mind and body. I can tell you she seems to have forged a bond with him—with Callen Skinner. It’s the horse in part. But it’s also him. He left home, came back. So did she. Someone hurt him. Someone hurt her. Being here, surrounded by family, has helped give her a sense of safety, helped her throw off a lot of the indoctrination.”

  “But I still need to let her tell me as it comes to her.”

  “She has a lot of trust in you. Pushing too hard for answers could damage that. I know it’s frustrating.”

  “I’m wondering if he’s dead, and that’s how she got away.”

  “If you’re wondering if she caused his death, my opinion is she wouldn’t have been capable. He dominated, she submitted. She speaks of him as alive. Her thought pattern often simplifies everything, as a child’s would. It’s coping. There’s good and bad, mean and kind, soft and hard. And other times she’s remarkably astute.”

  Celia gestured toward the window. “Cutting her hair? The courage of that, the symbolism of it? It was an act of self—recognition of self.

  “She may slip back again, and everyone should prepare for that. But she’s making good progress.”

  “I’m going to go out, talk to her, while she’s with Cal and the horse. I’ll keep it light and friendly.”

  Callen figured she’d have walked Sundown to Billings and back, and been happy about it. His own leg ached like a bitch, and he could only blame himself for skipping the afternoon Motrin. But he couldn’t bring himself to ask her to stop.

  “Can I braid his mane?”

  “Ah…” Callen chanced a look back at Sundown, calculated the humiliation.

  “I used to braid Venus’s mane. And bring her carrots. I can bring him a carrot.” Suddenly she stopped, looked around. “Where’s Venus?”

  “I don’t know. Is that your horse?”

  “She’s mine. Grandpa let me pick her out. Pretty Venus. She’s a buckskin, too, with a blond mane and tail. And … that was a long time ago. I forget. It was a long time ago. She must have died like Grandpa when I was in the cellar or in the house. She must have died when I wasn’t here.”

  “I had a horse before Sundown. I called him Charger. It was real hard for me when he died.”

  “But Sundown’s getting better. He won’t die.”

  “He’s getting better.”

  “He’s getting better,” she repeated and began to walk. “When he’s stronger, I can sit on him?”

  “As soon as the doctor says.”

  “I talked to my doctor today, too. Both my doctors, the man and the woman. They said I was getting better, too. There’s Tate. Bobby Tate. I know him. He’s not mean.”

  “I know him, too.”

  “Alice Bodine,” Tate said with a cheerful smile. “I sure like your hair.”

  “Bodine did it. That’s her first name, that’s my last name. This is Sundown. Somebody hurt him and Cal, but they’re feeling better.”

  “So I see.”

  “You’re the sheriff now. Bobby Tate’s the sheriff. You have to find people who hurt people.”

  Tate nodded, took a chance. “You’re right. I did find the person who hurt Sundown and Cal. I put him in jail.”

  Her eyes widened. “Does he have to stay there? Locked up? It’s hard to be locked up. You can’t get out. Nobody comes to let you out or hears when you scream.” She pressed her face into Sundown’s neck. “I didn’t hurt anybody.”

  “No, you didn’t, honey. But this man did, so the law has to decide what to do about it.”

  “You’re the law. Bobby Tate’s the law. Did you find Sir? Did you put him in jail?”

  “I sure want to. I’m trying to.”

  She angled her head around again. “We used to kiss, didn’t we?”

  “We did.”

  “You don’t kiss me now.”

  “Well, I got married.” Tate tapped his wedding ring. “But before we kissed, after, too, we were friends. We are friends, Alice.”

  “Sir didn’t kiss me. I didn’t want him to, but he would have no matter that. But he didn’t. We did other things. You did other things with me.”

  Tate cleared his throat as Callen looked discreetly away. “Well, yeah, we did.”

  “But you weren’t mean. You weren’t h
urting. We laughed and laughed, and you walked on your hands. Sir doesn’t laugh. He hurts. His hands are hard and mean, and he rapes me. Dr. Minnow says it’s rape, not marital rights. He rapes me so it hurts, always.” The words tumbled out, the pitch rising. “It’s rape, Dr. Minnow says, even when I don’t fight. If I fight he hits me and hits me and it’s worse. Even when I just laid down and let him, she says it’s raping. Is that the law? Is it? You’re the law, is it the law?”

  “It is. It’s the law.”

  “If you find him, you’ll lock him up? I want that.” She surprised Callen by reaching out, gripping his hand. “I want him locked up where he can’t get out, where nobody comes when he screams. I want that.”

  “I’m going to keep looking so that happens. I promise you, Alice. You said he had a beard all over, and dark eyes.”

  “Dark eyes. I close mine when he does it.”

  “Maybe you could tell me more about how he looks and we could draw him.”

  “I can’t draw. Reenie can’t, either. Even I can draw better, but I can’t draw faces.”

  “I know somebody who can draw faces, if you want to try to tell me more of how he looks. How you remember.”

  “I don’t know.” Her hand tightened, a small vise, on Callen’s. “I don’t want to see his face. I’m going to make Cal a scarf. I’m going to ride Sundown when he’s better.”

  “That’s okay.” Swallowing frustration, Tate kept his tone easy. “It’s too pretty a day to worry about things. Maybe I’ll come see you tomorrow, Alice, just to visit.”

  She nodded at Tate, then looked at Cal. “What would you do? You went away, you came back. Somebody hurt you and Sundown. Would you see his face so they could draw it?”

  “I think sometimes if you look at something straight on, look it right in the eye, it doesn’t seem as scary as it does when you close your eyes. And I think you’re about the bravest person I know, so if you need more time with your eyes closed, you should take it.”

  “Bodine said I was brave, the doctor said I was brave. You said I’m brave, but I don’t feel brave. I don’t want to go back to the house, I don’t want him to find me. I want to stay here. Can you come tomorrow,” she said to Tate, “ask me again?”

  “I sure can. It’s good to see you, Alice. And you, Cal.”

  Callen hesitated as Tate started off. “Miss Alice, could you watch Sundown for a minute? I need to ask the sheriff something.”

  “We’ll be right here.”

  Callen caught up with Tate at the gate. “Did he admit it?”

  Tate leaned back against the gate. “He’s changed his story half a dozen times. That hot head of his isn’t helping him. Neither is lying to me about being on the property on that ATV—and he knows he’s caught there. He’s slipped up plenty, and trying to stick to shooting at a snake, not realizing the shot went wild and hit you and the horse. That won’t hold. But in one of his slips, I think I got the truth. He wasn’t shooting at you.”

  “Now, that’s bullshit.”

  “He was shooting at your horse.”

  Callen rocked back on his heels, waited for his temper to peak and ebb. “He aimed at Sundown?”

  “I’m going to say that’s my opinion. I’m going to say it comes down to a goddamn dog and a goddamn poker game when you were kids. His father lost a dog to yours, and Garrett shot the dog out of spite. He was trying to kill your horse for the same reason. Pure spite.”

  Callen looked back to where Alice walked Sundown and chattered away to him. And could see it, see that wound across the belly, and how a few inches higher would have done the job.

  “You’ll take him down for it.”

  “That’s going to be up to the prosecutor, the judge, and the jury. But I’ll tell you, I’m going back at him, and I’ll get him to say what he did. That I will do.”

  “All right.”

  “What you said to Alice, it’s going to help me do my job for her, too. I’ll do my job, Cal.”

  Cal nodded, but as he walked back to his horse he thought, sometimes, justice didn’t have a damn thing to do with jobs.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  By Sunday evening, with the crazy weekend behind her, Jessica drove to the ranch. Though just sleeping for a solid twelve hours held a lot of appeal, the invitation to Sunday dinner swayed her.

  She enjoyed seeing Chase in his natural habitat, and had yet to connect with Callen since he and Sundown had been hurt. She accepted her Western transition as complete when she realized she wanted to see the horse as much as the people.

  The transition didn’t, and likely never would, include footwear. When she saw Sundown in the paddock and, to her delight, Chase spinning a rope—lariat, she corrected—she left the huckleberry crumble, which she’d made, in the car and walked over to watch.

  Rory sat on the fence beside a woman with red hair pulled into a short tail. The woman clapped enthusiastically when Chase jumped in and out of the spinning rope.

  When Chase gave Jessica a tip of the hat with his free hand, the woman glanced back. Though she’d heard about it, seeing Alice’s transformation left her stunned.

  “This is someone else,” Alice murmured and reached for Rory’s hand.

  “You might not remember me, Alice. We only met for a minute a few weeks ago. I’m Jessica Baazov. I work for Bodine.”

  “Bodine’s Reenie’s girl. This is Rory. Not my Rory. He’s Reenie’s Rory. And Chase is Reenie’s. He’s putting on a show for me because I didn’t get to see it.”

  “He’s really good, isn’t he?”

  “Uncle Wayne did rope tricks. Chase said Uncle Wayne taught him. Sundown does tricks, too. Cal taught him. Cal’s not just Reenie’s. He’s mine, too.”

  “I wanted to see Sundown and Cal.”

  “Grammy fussed at Cal and said he had to go in and put his leg up awhile. In a couple days I can sit on Sundown. He’s much better, and the man who hurt him’s locked up.” Alice looked at Rory for confirmation. “He’s locked up?”

  “That’s right. We don’t have to worry about him anymore.”

  “Bobby Tate does his job.” Alice applauded again as Chase took a bow. “It was a good show,” she told him. “Jessica’s here. I remember now. She’s your girlfriend.”

  Chase lowered his head, concentrated on coiling the rope. “It’s looking that way.”

  “He’s shy,” Alice told Jessica. “I never used to be shy, but I feel that way a lot now. We’ll go help with dinner.” Alice patted Rory’s arm. “So Chase can be with his girlfriend.”

  Barely blocking a snicker, Rory hopped down, lifted Alice off the fence.

  “I like your shoes,” Alice said.

  Jessica barely managed a “Thanks” before Alice walked away with Rory. “I can’t believe that’s the same woman who came home from the hospital.”

  “It’s spine.” Chase looped his rope around a fence post. “That’s Bodine spine. Dad told me she’s going to work with an artist tomorrow, agreed to it, to try to get a picture of the man who took her.”

  He reached over the fence for her hand, tugged her so she climbed on the bottom rail. “Fancy shoes. Not for riding.”

  “I dressed for Sunday dinner.” Then she laughed when Sundown moved up behind him, nudged him forward. “He’s definitely himself again.”

  “Go on now, I don’t need any help.” To prove it, Chase cupped the back of Jessica’s neck with one hand, lowered his mouth to hers.