Eagle, Kathleen (36 page)

"They
said it was nothing, and maybe—"

"Who's
they?
The Sweeneys?"

The
three men stood on the corner of the quiet street. Under the streetlight, big
Gene's chagrin took on a soft, sad glow. He hung his shaggy head, shoved his
hands in his pockets. Reese wanted to tell him to forget it, go in peace.

But
he couldn't do that without first asking, "Do you think it was off the
pickup that hit him?"

"I
don't..." Gene shrugged. "Probably. But it's gone now. You get to
thinking sometimes that there's no justice anyway, so..." His eyes were
glistening. "Well, you gotta hold onto what you got, you know? You try to
say, 'Hey, I think I got something here I found in the grass,' and they say,
'What you got don't mean jack. If you're smart, you'll forget it.' Which oughta
be easy, you know? Be smart, play dumb." He pressed his lips together and
glanced away, into the dark where the cottonwoods rattled in the night breeze
and the crickets hummed peacefully.
Go in peace.

"I
make some dumb-ass moves sometimes," Gene said.

Reese
clapped a hand on the big man's shoulder. "Who doesn't?"

Gene
smiled sadly. "Nobody ever thought you did, Blue, but a guy's gotta
wonder. What's Reese Blue Sky going to council meetings in Bad River for when
he could be living the high life out in Minneapolis?"

"I
thought I owed my father." Reese lifted a shoulder. "I think it's
more like I owed myself. I'm here for myself." He squeezed Gene's upper
arm. "Just like what you did tonight. You did that for Gene Brown. The one
who couldn't carry a badge if he'd really given up on justice."

"Oh,
yeah," Dozer chimed in, grinning. "Damn, that's... man! You gonna run
for a full term, Blue?"

"You'd
like that, huh?" Reese elbowed Dozer, and they all laughed. Then, to Gene,
"Tell you what, if every guy who ever made a dumb-ass move decided to let
that be his signature play, we'd all be go-to-hell."

"Yeah,
well... I used to be a pretty good cop, you know? But they got all these damn
procedures now, I don't know whether I'm comin' or goin' half the time."

"Neither
does your ol' lady," Dozer said.

"Listen,
before this gets too deep here..." Reese nodded over his shoulder at the
police station. "I don't know if we can make any charges stick, but I'm
pressing."

"Full
court, huh?"

"Full
court pressure."

"Hot
damn." Dozer clapped his hands and rubbed them together. "I'm on
duty, so I'd better get back to your house and gather up the evidence."

"I'll
be there soon as I check in with—" The guys were both looking at Reese
like he'd said he had to ask permission. He laughed as he started across the
street toward his car. "Hell, you gotta let 'em know whether you're comin'
or goin'."

"Hey,
Blue," Dozer called out. "I really liked that part about not giving
up on justice. I never knew you could talk so pretty."

Reese
crossed the street still laughing.

Helen
and Sid were watching TV, but he could tell they'd been waiting for him. He
liked that. He wished he didn't have to turn around and leave right away.

"Would
you mind keeping Crybaby with you tonight?" he asked his son. "I have
to go out to the house with Dozer and try to help him figure out what Earl
Brain-In-His-Butt was messing around with."

"Sure,"
Sid said, but he liked his idea better. "Unless you want me to go with you
and help. I saw your house from the outside. Is it a ranch? We drove by it on
the way to Wall Drug, and I saw the sign for..." He looked down at the dog
sitting by his feet. "The Blue Sky sign." With his grandfather's name
on it.

"On
the way to Wall, huh?" Reese flashed Helen a knowing smile. A little out
of her way. "You can see the place tomorrow. Dozer wants to snoop around
some more, and I don't know what kind of a mess it is now." He put his
hand on the boy's shoulder. "But thanks for the offer."

"It
was that guy Crybaby tried to tear into? He tried to set your house on
fire?"

"Sure
looks that way." Reese squatted next to the dog, checked his
bandage—looked as though the shepherd had done a little chewing—and scratched
his belly. "Tomorrow we'll change this. You keep him close, okay? Your
mom's all for keeping dogs in the house anyway, and he's a good watchdog. If he
has to go out, he'll cry. If he's hungry, he'll cry. If he's thirsty, he'll
cry. He's a big baby. Aren't you?" He ruffled Crybaby's ears.

"Not
if he sees somebody he doesn't like," Sid said.

"That
jackass is out of commission for tonight." Reese eyed his son. "You
keep this guy close." The dog whined. "That means he's gotta go out.
But you stay—"

"Close,
I know. Come on, boy."

After
the door whacked shut, Reese turned to Helen. Wordlessly he took her in his
arms and held her, inhaling deep gulps of Helen-in-lilacs, inviting her scent
to live in him, be the breath within his body. He felt bad about the ballplayer
smell he shared in trade as she snuggled underneath his chin, but she didn't
seem to mind. She slid her hands up his back, hugged him close, made him forget
why in hell he was planning to leave her now.

Then
he noticed the file he'd given her earlier, lying on the lamp table.

"Did
you find out where this Jones came from?"

"I'd
really like to know where he
went."
Reluctantly she withdrew from
his embrace and reached for the file. "This has a lot of holes in it. He's
worked at a number of casinos, but he doesn't seem to stay very long. His
license hasn't been approved, so I don't even know why Carter would let him deal.
But the good part is..." She waved a mug shot under Reese's nose. "We
have a photograph. I tried to get him in a group picture a few weeks ago. I
was—well, it's part of my job."

"Dealing
face cards," he said with half a smile.

"Sometimes
they can pick up on a known con with a picture, or, as in this case, the
picture might come in handy later if the person skips out."

"They
meaning..."

"The
agency," she said matter-of-factly. "Usually I can get people to pose
when I tell them it's for my memory book, but Jones wouldn't be charmed."

"The
man is definitely suspect," he said, looking at the stringy hair in the
picture, the half-mast eyes, obviously half blind if he was unreceptive to
Helen. "I don't know how deep the Sweeneys are into all this, but right
now, I can count the people I really trust on one hand. Well, maybe two. No
more than that." He put his arm around her again. "How about
you?"

"I'm
down to three fingers. You're this one." She tapped his chest with her
index finger.

"When
does Sid go back? Day after tomorrow?" He closed his hand around her
finger, enveloping her hand as well. "I'd feel better if you were both
getting out of here right now."

"I
have a part to play here, too, Reese. It's a small piece of the puzzle, but I
think it might just be a corner piece."

"We'll
get him back to camp, safely out of the way, and then we can fit our pieces
together. See if we can make some—"

Sid
pushed the door open and followed Crybaby inside.

Reese
cleared his throat. "Did he take care of business for you?"

"Yeah."
The boy had gone sulky.

"Tomorrow
you'll come out, and I'll have all kinds of stuff to show you. Your mom says
you like horses? Wait'll you see Blackjack and—can you believe a horse named
Jumpshot?"

"I
guess."

"What's
wrong, Sid?" Reese laid a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, I gotta tell
you. Playing ball tonight with you there at my old gym?" Sid looked up,
guarding himself but hopeful. "It was great. I've never enjoyed a game
more than I did tonight."

Dozer
collected what was left of the
burned articles as evidence while Reese
shook his head in wonder. With each charred chunk of junk mail, bills, and bank
statements that Dozer bagged, they looked at each other and laughed.
"Maybe this was part of Earl's plan to win one of these sweepstakes this
year," Dozer suggested. "Destroy the competition."

"I
doubt the ol' man ever entered," Reese said. "Probably kept the stuff
thinking he would. Everybody's got plans."

Reese
figured the references he had made to his father's records during the council
discussions must have aroused somebody's interest in the collected works of Roy
Blue Sky. Apparently
somebody
wasn't much of a reader.

"Earl
couldn't find what he was looking for right away, is what it looks like to
me," Dozer said. "So he decided that burning the place down would
have to take care of it. That works, huh?"

"It
would if what he was looking for was here," Reese said with a wry smile.
"And if you guys weren't."

"I
ain't afraid of them slippery Sweeneys. If push comes to shove, bet you
anything Preston walks away and leaves his brother with his ass in the
skillet."

"Ouch!
You don't think he'll
take care of his own?"
Reese asked, mimicking
Preston.

"Well,
sure, his own ass." They'd moved to the kitchen. Dozer knelt to gather a
few little plastic people off the floor. "I'm sorry about this mess, Blue.
What is this, anyway?"

"This?
This is a famous battlefield." Reese squatted next to the battered plywood
model, standing on end against the wall. "You know which one? Give you a
hint, Doze." He ran his finger along the blue-gray river of painted
plaster. "The Lakota warriors said this was a good day to die, and then
they headed across the river and kicked ass."

"Little
Bighorn," Dozer answered as he extended a handful of soldiers and braves.
"Damn that Earl, he busted up the whole camp here."

Reese
plucked from Dozer's brown palm a blue-and-gold cavalryman, his legs bowed as
if he'd gone into rigor mortis astride his horse. "They wore our old
school colors," he said, and Dozer snickered. Reese rubbed the tiny leg
between his thumb and forefinger, making the figure twirl back and forth.
"This mob came into the valley with their guns."

"Mob?"

"Organized.
This was going to be an organized crime. Custer was out to kill Indians, plain
and simple. This was about gold."

"They
wanted the Hills."

"Damn
right. They always talk about the numbers, how the Indians outnumbered the
soldiers, but the soldiers only had themselves to think about. These
guys," Reese said as he picked up a small plastic tipi and a couple of Indians
wearing red and yellow feathers. "Look at all the people these guys had to
look after, right here within range of those guns. This is how you earn some
serious bragging rights for looking after your own."

"They
gotta be lookin' down the barrel of a gun with you?"

"It
kinda ratchets the risk factor way up there. It's a lot simpler when it's just
you."

"In
your experience?"

"In
my... pitifully limited experience." Reese braced hands on knees and
stood. "How soon will we know something about that headlight piece?"

"They
might
know something now," Dozer said, rising to his feet. "How soon will
we
know? When they get around to telling us."

"That's
not good enough, Dozer. Whoever murdered my father could be sneaking around the
coulees here, setting up to do more damage. It's all tied up with this casino
business, and so is Helen, so is Carter, so is Titus, so are the Sweeney
brothers, so is the council." Reese's gestures reflected his frustration.
"We don't know who to defend and who to go after. We need to dog those
damn Feds until we get answers."

"I'm
just the Bobcat to do the dogging, Blue. I'm your hound."

"I've
got a hound." Reese clapped a hand on his friend's back. "You're more
like a brother, you and Tims. Seemed like I almost forgot."

"It's
good to have you back. You don't have to stay forever. We Lakota, we kinda like
to move our camp from time to time." Dozer tipped his hand to pour Indians
and soldiers into Reese's palm. "Always glad to have you back."

***

Dozer
had helped him clean up most of the mess. His father's passion for the old days
was scattered from hell to breakfast, but he wasn't about to toss it. His son
hadn't seen it yet, and maybe they could repair the thing.

Reese
stared at the familiar water-stained ceiling in his bedroom and remembered the
times when he was a kid and cleaned up after the old man. Broken dishes,
ashtrays, and flat beer, a smell he detested to this day. He'd gotten it down
to a science: pitch the rubble, sweep and mop, go out and shoot hoops, get out
of the old man's way. There had been no repairs back then. There had been
changes, but no repairs.

Iktomi
once persuaded the Elk Nation to adopt him, but the foolish one was such a pain
in the ass, sounding his crybaby alarm every time he barely scratched himself,
that the Elk Nation struck camp and moved one night without telling him. The
foolish one woke up the next morning and found that he was alone.

Did
you do that, old man?

I
did what I did. I felt sorry for myself.

But
you changed.

Did
I?

Apparently.

Apparently.
Apparently Iktomi set my bed on fire.

Reese
laughed aloud. He and Dozer had aired the place out and removed the burned
mattress, but he could still smell the smoke. He lay on his new bed, his long,
bare body cooled by his new air-conditioning, watching a muted television and
listening to CDs. Turning off the sound on the TV was an old habit. There was
nothing he wanted to hear on late-night TV, yet the shifting images created the
illusion that there were people close by.

He'd
taken his contacts out, so the figures had fuzzy faces. Nice figures, though.
It was an old musical flick, and the dancers were now tapping and twirling
totally out of sync with Thelonius Monk's piano on the CD he had playing.
Wee-hours-of-the-morning music, the kind that reminded him of hotel rooms with
big windows overlooking cities that all looked the same. He remembered those
faraway echoes, distant lights, watching the clock, breathing refrigerated,
recirculated, regurgitated air, waiting for the next move. Mostly looking
forward to it. He hadn't always waited alone, but he'd felt alone often enough,
even if he'd had company in bed.

We
like to move our camp from time to time.

Early
in the morning the camp would smell of smoke from a fire gone dead, but there
would be no music. And the people close by would not be an illusion. They would
be family, people who belonged together in the intimate hours before daylight,
within steps of each other, or, better yet, side by side.

The
huge red numbers on the bedside clock taunted him. It was either too late or
too early. They were miles away, and the doors were locked on his new family of
three.

New
family?

Newly
discovered.
Re
discovered, but not if he dwelled on his losses. Maybe
"recovered" was the word he was looking for.

I'm
recovered. Finished in the world you know, all done, all complete.

It's
just a word. Recovering, then.

Like
this? You've been doing it this way for years. Cool stud with his cool cash,
cool music, cool air blowing all around a big Blue Sky.

Reese
laughed aloud.

Big
cool lonesome. What's funny about that? I never thought it was too funny. A
moment ago you dared to think about being part of a family.

Yeah,
but they're all asleep, all safe. Let them...

Do
I have to send Iktomi to light a fire under you?

***

He
had to knock at the door where his family slept. Inside, Crybaby answered with
a devoted whine. Reese tipped his head back and smiled at the fading night sky.
A waning, pale white moon winked at him.

Helen
came to the door in a nightgown as white as the one the moon wore, and his
first thought was that he'd never seen this woman in a nightgown. She was the
mother of his twelve-year-old son, and he'd never seen her in a nightgown. Not
that he didn't have immediate visions of peeling it off her, but the delicacy
of the garment touched him, the feel of cotton worn soft by her sleeping body.

But
all thought dissipated when she reached for him, took him in her arms, and held
him close again.

"My
place smells like smoke. I'm sorry to..." He lifted her off the floor as
he kissed her hungrily. "No, I'm not," he whispered. "I'm not
sorry to wake you. I could say I didn't realize how late it was, but that would
be a lie, too."

"I'm
glad you're here." She hugged his neck, rested her chin on his shoulder,
her feet dangling above his. "How bad was the damage?"

"Not
too bad." As he carried her across the dark room to the sofa, he nuzzled
the hair curling softly against her neck until his lips found skin to kiss.
"Good ol' Earl performed a bed-burning, is all."

"And
he intended to..."

"Burn
the house down, I guess," he said, sitting her in the corner of the sofa
as though he were putting a child down. " 'Course, he says he was after a
prowler, but even he knows how ridiculous that sounds, so he'll be counting on
his brother to get him out of it."

He
sat beside her and started pulling off his boots, getting comfortable. "It
all seems too outrageous to even talk about. I hate like hell for Sid to walk
into this, Helen. I mean, here he is for the first time, and he wants to see
his grandfather's house, and this asshole of a cop breaks in, sets fire to the
place."

"We're
on the right track, Reese," she said as he draped his arm around her
shoulders. She cuddled against his side in the cool, sleepy half-light of early
morning. "They're getting nervous."

"You
wanna know the truth? I'm getting nervous."

"I
know."

"I'd
like nothing better than to walk away and forget the whole mess. Get out while
the gettin's good, head back to Minneapolis, all three of us. Okay, four,"
he amended as Crybaby flopped on the floor near his feet. "We could have a
good life there together, Helen. Right now, today."

"Before
we have all the answers?"

"Before
we dig up any more shit." He stretched out his legs, propped them up on
the coffee table. Beyond the screened window a dove cooed, gently welcoming the
new day. "I've got a beautiful place there, honey. You're gonna love it.
It overlooks a lake. It's—" She was looking up at him, and he felt her
stiffen up a little. "Hey, if you don't love it, we'll sell it. No
problem. We'll pick out something—"

"I'm
sure you have a wonderful home, Reese, and I'd love to—"

"It's
not a home. It's just a place to stay.
You
have a home, you and
Sid."

"We
have an apartment, and it isn't fancy. In fact, it's pretty basic."

"You
have each other," he reminded her. "You wanna head West instead? I'm
ready."

"Okay."
She leaned her knees on his thigh and tucked her bare feet up behind her on the
sofa. "Coffee first?"

"Sex
first. Then coffee." He caressed her cotton-clad thigh and her sweet round
bottom. "Then we spend the day with Sid, doing whatever he wants to do
before
he
heads West." He turned his lips to her forehead.
"I'd feel better if you were going with him."

"You
would?"

He
groaned. "I'd feel miserable, but I'd know you were going to be safer there
than you are here, and that's what I want."

"Nobody
wants to harm me. Nobody shot my dog and set my house on fire." She
sighed. "I'd like to send
you
to camp with Sidney. Wouldn't those
boys just love that? Then you'd both be safe, and I could wrap up my
investigation." She clutched a handful of T-shirt over his flat belly,
repeating the important part. "And you'd both be safe."

"Half
of your plan coincides with half of mine, which at least takes Sid out of the
line of fire." She drew back, looked up at him again, and he added,
"So to speak."

"I
was just thinking..." She stroked his belly. "Already you've started
calling him by a different name. I've always called him Sidney."

"It's
a guy thing. Only his mother should call him Sidney."

"You
don't like his name."

"I
like Sid. Even better, Sid Blue Sky." The stroking stopped. He lifted one
shoulder. "Well, it's there for him. It's his if he wants it. I won't push
it on him. Around here it's a good name, but you take it down Main Street,
U.S.A., you can't believe how often they say, 'Blue Sky?' " He dragged his
name out, simulating stupidity. " 'And how do you spell that?' " He
chuckled. "I'm just too damned obvious, I guess. Blue Sky's too damn
simple. I won't push it on you, either."