Chapter 34
I picked up Allison mid-afternoon, and we drove to Great Falls where the county fair was being held. I had not been to a fair since I was a kid visiting my grandparents in New England. That was the Eastern States Exposition, a huge fair held in West Springfield, Massachusetts in September. I remembered fondly the glitz, rides, giant pumpkins, games, and food. It was the big event ending the summer, and it seemed the whole world went to it.
This fair in Montana conjured the same pleasant memories as the one in New England. We were going first to the tractor pull. I recalled as a toddler, with my grandfather at a tiny community fair, seeing some farm tractors compete at pulling wooden sleds loaded with cinder blocks and thinking that was cool. I soon learned this was not my grandfather’s tractor pull, not like it in the least. The behemoth engines on wheels didn’t resemble any tractor I had ever seen, and they certainly had never plowed a row of corn, beans, or potatoes. Their engines roared deafeningly as they pulled a huge sled with a weight that dug deeper and deeper into the track as it was pulled forward. Eventually even these monster machines ground to a halt when they could not move the weight any further down the track. The winner seemed to be the one that pulled it the farthest.
The crowd went wild with each new entry, cheering their favorite, reveling in the ear-shattering noise and the sheer power of these machines. With no favorite, we covered our ears to muffle the sound and applauded after each pull. The crowd also howled each time a scantily clad blond strode by in an all-white ensemble of cowboy hat, low-cut sleeveless top, skin-tight shorts, and boots. She strutted her stuff, carrying a sign over her head. The sign advertised cowboy attire. I tried not to stare, but it was difficult to ignore her. Allison caught me eyeing this vision in white a couple of times and punched my upper arm in mock anger. I felt guilty for my obvious ogling, but she just laughed at me.
Later, with our ears still ringing from the roar of the tractors, we played the games. Ring toss, bowling, balloon popping, and various shooting games. I was terrible at the throwing games, embarrassing myself badly. But I had always done well with a gun. I spent many hours at the shooting range when I was a cop, sharpening my aim, certain that one day it would save someone’s life, maybe my own. With that skill, and a hand full of quarters, I managed to knock down enough rag dolls with a BB gun to win 3 stuffed bears, which I gave to Allison.
Her arms bulging with the prizes, she said, “Ah, you shouldn’t have,” laughing and hugging the trio.
“Weren’t nothin’, ma’am,” I said.
She wrapped her left hand around my right arm, pulled me close, and quickly kissed me on the cheek. I was floating on air.
“Mr. Parker.” That jerked me suddenly out of my euphoria. It was Sheriff Tyler. I had not noticed him since my attention had been focused entirely on Allison. “Are you enjoying the fair?”
“Sheriff! Why yes I am.”
“Hey, Sheriff,” Allison added. “We’re both enjoying it.”
“So it seems. Well, good. I’ve always liked coming here.” He gazed around, taking in the scene and the stars above. “Feels like home.” He gazed around with that far-off look I had seen in his eyes before. It was like he was again recalling fond long-ago memories that he would never recapture in real life again. Then suddenly he snapped out of it and said. “Be seeing you.” He tipped his hat and walked off.
I was about to say something to Allison when I noticed Enid Powell standing maybe 20 yards away. He was glaring at me and not looking very pleased. Even though he and I had not crossed paths in a couple of days, it seemed I was still high up on his S list. With Allison wrapped around my arm, he probably looked at me as competition, someone who was stealing his girl. But I didn’t avert my gaze from him. I wasn’t going to be bullied by this angry Deputy, even in this long-distance staring contest.
I wondered who was keeping the peace back in Willow Run. The Sheriff and Enid were both here. But then it’s a quiet little place where nothing big happens. And probably half the town was up here anyway, so there was no reason the local law shouldn’t enjoy it along with their neighbors. I was tempted to go up to him and say something, but did not have an appropriate quip that I might toss at him.
Allison must have noticed the staring contest. She still had her hand wrapped around my upper arm and gently led me away in another direction. “Let’s go get some barbecue,” she said. “I’m hungry.”
“Good plan,” I responded, immediately forgetting about Enid.
In was dark now. We ordered our food and settled across from each other at a dimly lit picnic table. The barbecue was fabulous. It was one of those foods that I never seem to tire of, but this was definitely the best ever. Or perhaps it was the time, the place, and the company that made it seem so.
Soon a law officer approached. He walked with a confident swagger, one that seemed familiar. He strode right up to our table and spoke to me.
“Mr. Parker,” he said almost accusingly. He was clean-shaven, with wavy light-colored hair peeking out from under his wide-brimmed hat. He was tall, trim, and muscled. Are all Montana lawmen such large guys? Very intimidating. His uniform was emblazoned with a patch that read Teton County Sheriff Department.
It took me by surprise. How many cops were at this fair? I had already seen the Sheriff and Enid. Now another. And why did he know my name? Then I noticed the nametag on his shirt. It read Wells.
“Hello, Jeff. Sit down,” Allison said in a friendly tone. This had to be her brother. And it was probably the one who pulled me over on Thursday night for speeding. He sat down next to Allison and fixed a steady gaze on me. Allison must have told him about our plan to be here.
“Jeff, meet Nathan Parker. Nathan, meet Jefferson Wells, my big brother.”
I attempted to wipe the barbecue sauce off my fingers with a napkin, anticipating that he might offer his hand to shake. But he sat there with his arms folded, elbows resting on the tabletop. “Sorry, my hands are kind of messy,” I offered. “Nice to meet you, Jeff.” Since he was not apparently going to bring up our past encounter in the traffic stop, I chose not to raise the subject either.
Jeff did not seem inclined to volunteer to start any conversation, so I took the lead. “Are you off duty tonight, Jeff?”
He didn’t answer, but instead turned to Allison. “Enjoying the fair?”
For a moment, she fixed a deadly gaze at him. There was anger rising in there because of his attitude. But all she said was, “Yes, Jeff. It’s been nice.” Then she turned to me. “Jeff is on duty tonight, but I asked him to stop by if he had the chance.”
“Jeff, the barbecue is great. Do you want some?” I asked, hoping to draw him into some civil conversation.
He took a long time to answer, then finally said, “Later.”
Allison turned to glare at him, addressing him sweetly but sternly. “Do you think perhaps you could stop treating Nathan like a suspect?”
He continued to stare at me without answering, and then responded in a low monotone, “I suppose so,” as though he was reserving the right to water board me at a later time. Then he smiled weakly and said flatly, “Welcome to Montana.” It lacked the enthusiasm of a tourism advertisement, but it seemed a step in the right direction.
Not knowing if I should call him Jeff or Jefferson, since Allison had used both and my use of the name Jeff had not been met with a kind response from him, I chose to just say, “Thanks.”
“Sis tells me you’re an ex-cop, from Cincinnati,” he offered.
I didn’t particularly want to talk about this topic, not tonight and not to another cop. But I responded. “Unfortunately, yes. It wasn’t my choice to be an ex,” I said a bit glumly. But I tried to brighten up the tone, since I was feeling a bit bulletproof tonight in the company of Allison. So I added, “I’m glad to see you have kept your position with the county, in spite of the economy.”
I immediate
ly wished I hadn’t said anything since maybe I had hit a nerve, a sensitive spot if Jeff Wells’ job was not so secure after all.
But he continued as if I had not spoken at all. “And so you came all the way out here to be an author? What are you going to be an author of?”
I was already tiring of Jeff interrogating me. And then I noticed over his shoulder someone who was smiling in my direction and at my expense. It was Enid Powell. He really seemed to be enjoying my obvious discomfort.
“Well….” I started. But Allison broke in there.
“Why don’t you two go behind the tent over there and fight this one out?” she said in disgust, mainly but not entirely directed at her brother. Why was I a target of her anger? At least I was trying to be civil.
Jeff then stood. “Later. I have to get back to my patrol. See you, Sis.” And with that he left. I barely knew the man, and he seemed to have already concluded I was a waste of flesh. That was going to complicate any relationship Allison and I might have.
“That could have gone better,” Allison said apologetically. Then she gently inserted her hand into mine. “Let’s go.”