Come Sundown

“Before we go into that, I’ve got something to ask you. I figure, since I don’t remember a time you weren’t, you’ll be straight with me on it.”

Callen felt the quick, slippery knot slide and twist in his belly. He’d been preparing for the boot to drop about Bodine, and had yet to formulate answers to questions her father might ask.

“There might’ve been a few times I slid under the straight line about things Chase and I got into.”

“Not if I asked you direct.”

“No, not if you asked me direct.” Evasion? Well, that was just being cautious about something or other. Lying was lying.

“So I’m asking you direct: Are you planning to go after Garrett Clintok?”

The knot loosened. He found it a hell of a lot easier to answer that than a father’s what-are-your-intentions-regarding-my-daughter.

“He’s out on bail.” Lazily now, Callen dragged on the cigar, watched the smoke trail off into the night. “I’m healed up. It’s going to be up to him whether we have a conversation or something more … physical. But I can’t let it go. It’ll be harder if you ask me to let it go, but I still couldn’t.”

“What I’m going to ask is you don’t go start that conversation alone. I don’t doubt you can handle yourself, Cal, but you’d fight fair. It’s how you’re built. He won’t, as that’s not how he’s built. He’s got a streak in him, and always has.”

Sam sipped some whisky. “And now he’s ruined himself around here. Nobody’s going to take his side on this. Can’t say what the courts will do, but nobody’s going to take his side. He’ll never be a peace officer again wherever he goes—and go he will, if he doesn’t end up in prison. He’ll want to do more than bloody your nose.”

Sam drew on his cigar, let the smoke go. “I’m going to ask you for that. Don’t go for him alone. Take somebody you trust to bear witness to a fair fight.”

It grated some, but the fact was Sam Longbow invariably talked plain sense. “I won’t go alone.”

“All right then. Now, why don’t you tell me what you want to ask me about? If it’s my daughter’s hand, I’m likely to give it, but it’s still going to twist up my heart.”

The knot came back, slipperier than before. “I’m not … we’re not going there right yet.”

“All right. To save us the awkward moment when you are, consider it already given. We don’t have to go back here.”

“I don’t have any land,” Callen heard himself saying.

Sam angled his head, gave Callen a considering study. “Did you blow through all the money you made in California on whisky and wild women?”

“Only a small percentage of it.”

“You’re planning to keep working for a living, I expect.”

“As long as you don’t fire me, I’m good.”

“Well, her grandmother didn’t fire me when I slipped off with her daughter, so you’re safe on that. Now, if you didn’t want to talk to me about that, what’s on your mind?”

“How would you feel about hiring on Alice?”

“Hiring Alice?”

“I was going to ask how you’d feel about letting her help some with the horses. Stable work. She’s damn good at grooming, and she could muck. She’s strong. The limp hampers her some, especially if she’s tired, but she’s strong. She’s got a good way with horses. The dogs now, too. I guess it’s animals altogether. But when I thought more on it, it seemed to me she’d get more pride out of it if she drew a little pay. Wouldn’t have to be much.”

As the night birds called, Sam contemplated his cigar. “I never thought of it.”

“I said something to Maureen before, and I know she wants to talk to Nana and to the doctor. That’d be the right way, but you run the ranch, so…”

“It’s a good thought, Cal. A good one. And judging from what I’ve seen the last couple weeks, the right one, too. We’ll see if we can make it work. Somebody’s coming.”

Even before he saw the headlights, Sam heard the engine, off in the quiet of the night.

“Late for visiting,” Sam added, but crossed his boots on his stretched-out legs, a man confident in his own.

“Sheriff Tate,” Callen said quietly when the truck got close enough.

They waited as Tate stopped the truck, got out.

“Evening, Sam, Cal.”

“Evening, Bob. You look tired out.”

“Because I am.”

“How about a chair, a whisky, and a cigar?”

“If I take the cigar, I’ll pay for a week. You could have a hazmat team hose me down, my wife would still smell it. But the whisky I wouldn’t mind. I’m off duty.”

“Take the chair.” Callen got to his feet. “I’ll get the whisky.”

“Appreciate that.”

Before Callen could reach the door, Bodine opened it. “Sheriff.”

“Evening, Bodine.”

“I’m just getting him a whisky.”

“I’ll get it.”

When she shut the door again, Callen picked up the cigar he’d set in the ashtray, leaned back against the porch rail.

“I was on my way home, and felt I should come on by, tell you where we’re at. I’ve been talking to some people the last few days, pushing on the business Callen passed on that Alice passed to him. People we know are active or more than sympathetic to militias. True patriots being one. That’s the phrase she used to you?”

“A couple times,” Callen agreed.

He paused when Bodine came out. “Thanks. Long day.” He took a slow sip. “Long, dry one. Those people dug into those groups aren’t very likely to cooperate with a police investigation, especially with one who isn’t what they call a ‘constitutional sheriff.’”

He paused again, took a longer sip. “Still, we went out, talked, showed the sketch, made sure they heard what this individual we were asking about is being investigated for. Only the hard-liners are going to hold that line when a man’s done what this one’s done. Still, we didn’t get much of anywhere on it. Until today.”

At that Bodine walked over, stood by Callen.

“I got a call from somebody today. I won’t say the name—couldn’t say if you’d know it—but I’ve got to keep it confidential in any case. Says he recognized the face, has seen this man at the compound they have a few times. Doesn’t know his name for sure. Says he goes by J.G. Says this man drills with them every few months—not regular. Runs some supplies for them. Claims he hasn’t seen this individual for months now. The compound’s a good way east of here, but this character thinks our man has a patch of land around here, lives—as some of them do—off the grid. We’re going to push on this, but carefully.”

“Would a reward help?”

“Money never hurts,” Bob told Sam.

“Fifty thousand, if he can lead you to the son of a bitch.”

“Ten’s enough for this type. You clear me to offer ten, he’ll find out more than I think he already knows.”

“Then you’re clear for it.”

“Saves me from asking.” Bob drank again. “There’s more, on the other information Alice passed to Callen. About there maybe being other women. The time she gave for hearing the screams, and the calls for help. Going after we figure he moved her into that shed. I did a search for missing persons, in the age span that makes the most sense. I’ve got one who’s never been found. Nineteen-year-old girl, doing some hiking and photography on the trails in Lolo. Called her ma and her boyfriend from Stevensville on July sixteenth, fresh off the Bass Creek Trail. She planned, she said, to get some food, maybe another quick hike, then camp for the night. That’s the last they heard from her. Last anybody did. Not a damn trace of her.”

“He might have had more than Alice,” Bodine offered. “He might have another woman locked up right now.”

“I talked to the agent who has that case, that still open case. We’ll talk again. I went to Stevensville, talked to the people he talked to back then who remembered seeing her. Still daylight when she walked off, and Alice says it was dark when she heard the scream. We’re going to follow this through, try to narrow down when and where he grabbed her, if he did. I’m going to need to talk to Alice again, about when she might have heard the other sounds she told Cal about. Other things that might mean other women.”

He let out a breath. “On the next, I need to tell you all we haven’t got anything panning out on Billy Jean’s or Karyn Allison’s murders. The couple of leads we thought were viable, just weren’t. We’re still working it, but we don’t have anything new, and it’s been months now. Longer it goes, the colder it gets. I’m sick and sorry about it.

“And last.” He lifted his gaze to Callen’s. “You know Garrett’s out on bail.”

“I heard something like that.”

“I’m telling you the prosecutor’s going for him. Feels the evidence, and Garrett’s own stupidity, mean a solid case. The lawyer might work out a plea, but he’ll do time, Cal. He will do time, and he’ll never carry a badge again.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“You ought to stay clear of him.”

“I’m just having a cigar on the front porch.”

Tate shook his head, rose. “You ought to stay clear. Thanks for the drink. I’m going to plan on talking to Alice tomorrow, but now I’m going home and hoping Lolly will warm up whatever she made for dinner.”

He pushed up, started down the porch steps. Looked up.

“We got a clear night. You see something like that sky, no matter how long you’ve been the police, you just don’t understand why people do what they do to people.”

As Tate drove off, Sam picked up his empty glass, then Tate’s. “I’d better tell your mother all of this.”

“Do you want me to talk to her with you?”

He shook his head at Bodine. “I’ll take care of this.” He looked out where Tate’s taillights grew small. “Long, hard day for some of us.”

“I don’t know what to do.” Bodine lifted her hands, let them fall when her father went in. “What to do or think or feel.”

“Nothing to do but take it as it comes. I need to say you know I’ve had an ear to the ground about Clintok. He’s spending some time at the Step Up Bar. I’m going to take a drive over there in a few days.”

“What’s wrong with tomorrow?”

“I believe we have a date and a fancy dinner.”

She flicked that away like a gnat. “We’ll have the fancy dinner next Saturday. Get this done, Skinner. It’ll eat at you until you do. We’ll go tomorrow.”

“Bodine, are you saying you’d rather go to a potential bar fight than a fancy restaurant?”

“I don’t understand anyone who wouldn’t.”

Grinning, he held out a hand. “There come those powerful feelings again. Let’s take a walk under this big sky.”

* * *

He picked his wife. He had a plan. This time around there would be no mistake. Evenings most usually he worked on organizing, on preparing. Supplies and security.

A woman needed to be locked up tight until she understood the order of things. And even after that.

He had the leg irons bolted strong to the wall, added two more sturdy locks to the door. Thinking of the noise some of them could make, he took time to staple up strips of foam on the walls.

Not that anybody ever came around the cabin, but that sort of precaution should’ve been done long ago.

Once done, he took a good look around, imagined his wife in the bed. Stripped down, she’d be—he’d see to that—and ready for planting.

The image made him hard, so hard he was grateful he wouldn’t have to wait much longer.

The long winter was over, and spring had come. The time for planting. To every time there was a season, he thought. And this was his.

The seed, his seed, would take. Grow inside the young, fertile womb. And then he’d make another change. Leave the son in the care of the mother. Honor thy father and mother. Yes, this time that would be done. He’d even bring the boy to her for visits, maybe some schooling as he grew. And do the same with the sons who came after the first.

They’d make a family, with him as the head, the woman as the helpmate, the sons as legacy.

Confident in his plans, in his choice, he lay down on the bed where he’d plow and plant. And considered how once that seed took hold, he might choose another wife, start another son.

He had room, could keep them separated until they learned to be sisters. Two to keep him pleasured, to grow the sons, to grow the crops, tend the stock, to clean and cook as time went on.

Two to see to the women’s duties while he took on the men’s work, pursued the men’s interests.

He closed his eyes, building it all in his head. A kind of kingdom, he thought, and slept a little while to dream of it.

* * *

Callen planned to throw together a meal after work on Saturday, then drive out to the Step Up Bar about nine.

He’d put in a full day—spring weekends proved to be packed tight at the resort—and had seen to Sundown’s feeding and grooming himself.

And spent some time rubbing vitamin oil into the raw pink scar on his horse’s belly. “Battle scar.” He straightened, gave Sundown a couple of good strokes. “I can’t balance the scales unless I shoot the bastard, and I just don’t have that in me. Or don’t want to act on it if I do. But I can add a couple of weights.”

Sundown stomped his right front hoof twice, and though Callen understood the horse reacted to his tone, he went with it. “Yeah, one for each of us. Behave yourself,” he ordered as he stepped out, latched the stall door. He crossed over to Leo, scratched Bodine’s gelding between the ears where he liked it best. “Keep your eye on him.”

He wound his way out, exchanging words with a couple of the hands, turning down an invite to poker. Since he’d taken longer with Sundown than he’d planned, he backpedaled cooking to tossing a sandwich together.

Then walked into the shack to the scent of cooking and the sight of Bodine at his stove.

“Woman, don’t you have my supper on the table yet?”

“Funny,” she said without turning around.

“Sort of was. What’re you cooking? I didn’t know you did much of that.”

“I don’t, but I can brown up some meat and pour some barbecue sauce on it, and fry up some potatoes. That’s what you’re getting.”

It smelled a hell of a lot better than a cheese sandwich. “I’ll take it and say thanks.”

“Thought you would. Want a beer?” She glanced back to see him shake his head, nodded hers. “Saving that for after. While a few beers makes an interesting fight, a clear head’s a smarter one. I wouldn’t mind a Coke.”

He got out two, opened both. “Bodine?”

“Callen?”

That made him smile and kiss the top of her head. “I’ve got words turning around in my head, looking for their right spots. When they get there, I’ve got things to say to you.”

“Am I going to like hearing them?”

“Well, you’ll have to let me know. I need to wash up. I’ve been with the horses.”

“You’ve got about five, maybe ten minutes before this is on the table.”

When he came back, she spooned generous portions of the sauced meat onto buns, scooped up fried potatoes, added a hefty portion of mixed vegetables.

“I stole the vegetables from Clementine. She had plenty done.”

After she sat with her own plate, he two-handed the filled bun, sampled. “It’s good. Got some bite to it.”

“That’s the hot sauce. I figured you could take it.”

“Take it and like it. Meant to ask: Since we’re not booked real heavy on Tuesday, I’d like to have my mother bring the kid in for a while again. Brody loves the horses, and he’s been asking for another pony ride.”

“You don’t have to ask about that, Callen.”

“I like checking with the boss.”

“The boss says anytime you can work it out’s fine. Text me when they get in. I’ll come down and see them if I can.”