Ghost Medicine

  “Stotts? The teacher’s boy? The one missing last month?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “It’s barely seven o’clock in the morning, boy. Is something wrong?”

  “Yes, sir. I was riding in to work this morning at the Benavidez ranch and I saw someone taking that F one-fifty the Bullers drive for Mr. Benavidez. It had a horse trailer hitched to it, as well.”

  “You work at the Benavidez ranch? Aren’t you kind of small? How old are you anyway?”

  “Sixteen. Yes sir, I work here. I’m calling from the Benavidez house right now.”

  “What do you do for ‘em?”

  “Well, Deputy Rutledge, I was just calling ‘cause I saw someone steal that truck.”

  “Maybe someone’s just borrowing it from Carl. Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I saw it. I talked to Carl and Mr. Benavidez about it and no one had their okay to take that truck.”

  “Where did you see this?”

  “In front of Carl’s house. This morning, maybe at five-thirty.”

  “In front of the Foreman’s house? What were you doing out there at five-thirty?”

  I breathed hard into the mouthpiece. This was the most I’d ever said to Clayton Rutledge in my entire life. Maybe I woke him up too early.

  “I was going to work.”

  “At the ranch? All right, then. I guess I’ll have to come out there and we’ll get this thing figured out. I’m sure there’s nothing to it. You just go on and do your work, son, and I’ll get out to Bullers’ place later this morning. I bet we’ll find the truck before then, anyway, knowing Carl.”

  My heart was pounding hard; I was sweating a little. Maybe it was from that strong black coffee. Then I said it.

  “Mr. Rutledge, I think it was Chase I saw taking the truck. And there was lots of money inside, too.”

  “Chase? He’s been over at Jack Crutchfield’s since yesterday getting a motorcycle. Are you sure it was my boy?” But I heard the tone in his voice change, too, and I knew he wasn’t just irritated over my waking him up.

  “Well, it was dark still.”

  “Let’s just work on one problem at a time, boy. I’ll be out at the Buller house in a bit.”

  And he hung up.

  And then he never showed up all morning, either. Tommy and I worked in the main stables all that time until just after noon, and when we had finished for the day we rode back to his house. Still no truck. No sheriff. Carl was sitting out on the front porch, smoking. He looked sick. He had been drinking.

  “Rutledge hasn’t been out?” Tommy asked.

  “Hell.” And he exhaled a cloud of smoke.

  “Do you think I should call him again?”

  Carl shook his head and leaned back in his chair. “He’s a real piece of work, that sheriff. Acting like he’s really got a job to do around here. Hell.”

  Gabe and Luz must have checked for us at the stables, because they both came riding up from the direction of the main house as we sat there just looking at Carl and each other, wondering what we should do about this.

  “Well, CB, we’re all riding Stotts home. So if he does show up, you can tell him where to find ‘em if he needs to. Come on, Stotts. Let’s go.”

  Tommy sounded disgusted with his father. He pulled Arrow’s head around and I followed on Reno to meet up with Luz and our chaperone.

  It was another one of those perfect times; like Luz softly combing my hair back with her fingers when I got thrown from Reno, or sitting in the hay-filled truck bed with her at evening, watching everything and nothing at the same time. When I look back at that summer and the years before it, those times I can remember most clearly: the colors, sounds, smells—riding alongside with these three friends I had grown up with: Tommy on that cranky horse of his, Gabe on his Dusty, who I know wanted to ride harder than Gabey ever would, Luz on her painted Doats; riding in that late afternoon when the sun had teased at warmth and then receded away behind the coolness of the stretching shadows making their way across the dirt road around the shore of the lake north toward my home.

  I yawned big.

  “Are you tired?” Luz said, and jokingly, “Tommy, you and Carl aren’t working him too much, are you?”

  “Work?” Tommy said. “Do you work, Stotts?”

  “At the Benavidez ranch, sir.”

  “You’re pretty scrawny to work at that ranch, aren’t you?” Tommy said. Of course, I had told him about my phone call that morning.

  “What time do you get to work?” Gabe said, playing along.

  “Five-thirty.”

  “What were you doing at the Benavidez ranch at five-thirty?” Tommy said.

  “Going to work.”

  “Where do you work?” Luz asked.

  I sighed and yawned again.

  “Fall asleep on us, Troy, and we’ll sling you over the saddle like we killed you,” Gabe said.

  “I’m not about to ever fall asleep on Reno again,” I said, remembering that knot on my head. “You wanna race Dusty up to that tree there? You can say go.”

  And before I was done saying it, Gabe and Dusty took off and got a clean three lengths on us before I even touched my heels to Reno. I could have waited longer, but Reno wouldn’t. As soon as he realized a race was on, he was right out, leaving the others behind in our dust. It helped wake me up, but of course Reno overtook Dusty and sailed past the tree well ahead. Gabe lost his hat just before the finish line. I swung Reno around as he and Dusty caught up to us.

  “You better pick that thing up before it makes the ground dirty,” I said.

  Reno was back pedaling and wheeling his hooves, eager to run again. Gabe got down from Dusty and walked back to get his hat.

  “Dang, that horse of yours is a runner,” he said. He brushed his hat off and replaced it on his head, his hair slicked back. He must have combed it before Mrs. Benavidez dispatched him to keep his eye on me. On us.

  “Okay, showoffs, if you didn’t want us to ride with you, you shoulda told us to stay home!” Tom called out from the road behind us. We rode back to catch them up.

  “Damn, Stotts, I was bettin’ with Luz how far you’d get before you fell off.”

  Luz rode up next to me and leaned over close. “He said you’re getting to be a damn good rider.”

  I wanted to kiss her real bad. I looked at Tom and Gabe, then back at Luz. “And what did you say?”

  “I told him if you did fall off, I’d kiss you.”

  “You shoulda told me before I took off,” I said, straight-mouthed.

  We rode together, four horses abreast up that dirt road to the tree that had been our finish line, listening to the clop-clop of the horses’ hooves against the ground. Then we heard that rattling Ford truck coming straight down the road toward us.

  “I don’t believe this,” Tommy said.

  The truck braked and shifted sideways in the road, with nowhere to go; its path blocked completely by our four horses. And Chase Rutledge was driving.

  Tommy was first down from his horse, followed by me and then, finally Gabe. Luz stayed back on Doats, who kept the other horses steady in their places. Tommy went to the driver’s door and opened it. Chase just sat there, blankly staring straight ahead through the windshield, looking at Luz and the horses. He was wearing that greasy, blackened sheriff ‘s baseball cap, hands resting on top of the steering wheel.

  “What the hell are you doing, Chase?” Tom said.

  I could tell Chase was careful with what he said to Tom Buller; and how he said it, too.

  “I was just using the truck and trailer to move Jack’s motorcycle over to my house,” he said. “I asked your dad and he said okay.”

  “That’s a lie,” I said. “Carl never said you could take it. I called your dad this morning after I saw you steal it.”

  “I didn’t steal anything,” he insisted.

  “I tell you what, Stotts. We already called the sheriff on him. What do you say we just go ahead and make a citizen’s arrest? I got some zip tie
s in my saddlebag. I say we just cuff him up and leave him here and let his daddy come get him,” Tom said, getting closer and closer to the side of Chase’s face.

  Chase didn’t say anything. He just stared at Luz. He clenched his fist, and I know Tommy noticed it, too, so I didn’t say anything. Chase couldn’t be stupid enough to fight, I thought, because he’d not only have to deal with Tom, but with me, Gabe, and probably Luz, too.

  “Yeah, let’s tie him up, Tommy,” Gabe said.

  “I think that sounds like a good idea,” Tommy said. “We could tie him up and then not call his daddy. Just leave him here.”

  I could tell Chase was getting mad and scared. But I knew Tommy wasn’t serious about tying him up, either.

  “Look. Here’s what you’re going to do, Chase,” I said. “You’re going to take this truck on back to the Foreman’s house and you’re going to park it back where you got it. Then you’re going to walk home to see your dad. And we better not ever see you anywhere around Benavidez ranch again.”

  Chase didn’t say anything to me, but just looking at him sitting there, stubborn, in that truck made me madder and madder. So I added, “Or next time we’re gonna mess you up.”

  “What do you mean by that, Stotts?” Chase said.

  And Tommy said, “It’s a good way to get yourself shot.”

  Tom slammed the door shut and spit. Chase looked at him, then me, then fixed his stare straight ahead.

  “And Chase,” I said. “Slow it down.”

  The three of us got back up on our horses and moved them to the side of the road to let the truck through. Chase didn’t look at us as he drove past, slowly, until he wound out of our sight.

  “You didn’t say nothin’ about the money,” Gabe said.

  “Probly better to wait and see after he gets the truck back,” Tommy said. “Anyways, we all know it was Chase now.”

  “Maybe you should turn around,” I said to Tommy. “You could give Carl a hand.”

  He knew what I meant. He pulled Arrow’s head around and was facing back the way we had come. “Anyone want to ride along? Gabey?”

  Gabe looked at me, then Luz. “Mom would kill me. You know that. Then Dad would spit on my corpse.”

  “Why don’t you both go on back with him?” I said.

  “You don’t want to ride home alone,” Luz said.

  “It’s how I got here. I’ll see you in the morning, Tom.”

  “See you, Stotts.”

  And I rode off toward home, my heart pounding from standing up to Chase, and regretting that I hadn’t fallen from my horse.

  TWELVE

  When I was near the drainpipe we called “the bridge,” I heard a car coming up behind me. It was the sheriff ‘s black-and-white Ford Bronco. His headlights were on, but not the flashers on top. I pulled Reno over, hoping Clayton Rutledge would just drive past us, but he lowered the passenger-side window and stopped right alongside.

  “Troy Stotts?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why don’t you get on down from that horse, son. I’d like to talk to you.”

  I could hear him crunch on the parking brake, and he got out of his side of the car, leaving it idling, parked a little diagonally in the dirt road like he was doing something important and dangerous, with the headlights still on. I got down from Reno, put my hands into the pockets of my jacket, and walked around to where he was standing, by the front of his car in the light.

  “That’s a real big horse you got there, son. How big is he?”

  “He’s a lot bigger than me, I know that.”

  “I bet you paid a good bit for him, too.”

  “Less than you’d think,” I said. I looked down at my feet.

  “So what is it you do there at the ranch?”

  “Whatever the bosses tell me to do.”

  Then Clayton Rutledge got a little closer to me. He put his right hand on the hood of the vibrating car and tilted his face down at an angle. I could smell his breath, hot and moist, and he hadn’t shaved today. But I knew he at least took the time to eat a few good meals, judging by the taut balloon of flab that hung over a belt that I couldn’t picture how—or why—he’d ever put it on, unless it was just to hold that gun of his, a big Smith & Wesson .357. His voice raised in pitch and volume a little. I could tell he was uncomfortable, but also trying to scare me.

  “So you say you saw Chase stealing that truck Carl Buller drives?”

  “I did.”

  “Did he break into it?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Did he have the keys?”

  “They were left in it, I guess.”

  He exhaled a big gust of humid, foul breath into my face. “Look. Chase didn’t steal nothing. He just used the truck to get a motorcycle he bought from Jack Crutchfield. He told me he found the truck abandoned quite a ways from that Foreman’s house with the keys still in it. So he decided to bring it back and he used it to move this bike on the way. He said he had permission.”

  “Not from anyone who could’ve given it.”

  “He was just borrowing the truck. Carl Buller told him it was okay.”

  “Not before he took it, he didn’t.”

  “Well, you know Carl.” And I understood what he meant by that.

  I was just looking past him, sometimes glancing back at Reno. The sheriff was getting mad, I could tell.

  “Look, Troy. My son’s a good boy. He just graduated high school. He’s been a lifeguard over at the pool at Holmes. He doesn’t get into trouble. He’s a good kid.”

  “Well, so am I, but I never stole a truck before.”

  Then he pushed me, just enough to snap me back a little, with his left hand straight-arming my shoulder.

  “Okay, smart ass. I’ll tell you how it is, then. I’m two years away from retirement. Two years. This is a good job, patrolling from home, and I don’t want to get sent anywhere else in this county. I’m done with that. We do things different here, you should know that—you lived here longer than me. It’s not like the big city. People leave their doors open and their keys in their cars. I tell ‘em not to. And out here you just gotta take care of things for yourself. And for me, that means I just gotta solve problems for everyone. I’m going to retire soon and I don’t need any trouble here. My son’s a good boy, he was just using the truck to move that dirt bike and now he’s brought it back, so it’s all good now. Fact is, you don’t really know what you saw this morning.”

  I know he was just trying to get me to doubt what I knew I saw.

  “Was the money still there, too?”

  “What money?”

  “There was five thousand dollars in cash in the glove compartment Carl put there from selling a horse for Mr. Benavidez yesterday.”

  “I’ll look into that. If it was there this morning, it’s still there now. But you know Carl Buller.”

  “Yeah. I do.”

  “And did you tell Chase that you’d kill him if you ever saw him back on Benavidez land?”

  “Yes.” I didn’t even think to lie. I said it because I hated his son.

  Clayton shook his head. “You know, I could throw you in jail right now for saying that. You know that’s against the law?”

  I waited. Then I said, matter-of-factly, “Well, if you’re not going to arrest a car thief, I guess you’re not going to put me in jail for just shooting off my mouth, either.”

  I just wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t trying to make Clayton mad, it just happened.

  And then, with the hand that was resting on the hood of the car, he hit me right across the face. I tried to duck, but he caught my nose with his thick fingers and as I spun away I could already feel the blood running out, warm and thick and smelling like metal.

  Clayton Rutledge handed me one of those blue paper towels from a service station. I was sitting on the side of the road, Reno was smelling my head, which was between my knees. Blood was flowing down the front of my shirt, onto my pants, onto my jacket. My eyes were blurred.

 
“Here. Clean yourself up, boy.”

  Then he went back to the car. I heard him open the door.

  “You just better know that next time you go accusing anyone around here of anything, you better get your story straight first, boy. Or let the real police handle it. You just be glad I’m not handcuffing you and hauling your butt in right now, ‘cause I could do that.”

  Then the door slammed shut and he pulled out. I kept my head down as he drove away. I was crying. It didn’t hurt so bad; I was just mad and a little scared, too.

  Things’ll be better, Troy.

  I don’t know.

  Don’t cry, Troy. Don’t cry anymore, son. Things’ll be better now. She was tired. Too tired. She fought hard for a long time and we did the best we could and she got to be here until the end. That’s all she wanted, so don’t cry, son. It’s you and me now. We have each other and we’ll be okay. I promise. I just hate to see you cry, Troy. It hurts me worse than anything.

  I guess it’ll stop when it stops.

  My dad wasn’t home when I got back, and I was relieved about that. I got some clean clothes on and washed up. Then I called Tommy and asked him if it would be okay if I spent the night over at his house and if he could come get me. I didn’t say anything else, I just hung up, sure that Tom knew something was wrong and he’d get here as soon as he could.

  Then I started to write my dad a note on that yellow pad in the kitchen when I heard him opening the door. He must have gone pretty far because he had bags from a grocery store in his arms. He came into the kitchen and put the bags down by the sink, then looked at me with wide, surprised eyes.

  “Oh my God, Troy. What happened to you?”

  “Reno rode me right into a tree. It was dark and I wasn’t paying attention.”

  My dad grabbed my head with both of his hands and looked right into my eyes.

  “Your eyes look terrible. Are you okay, son?”

  “Yeah. I just had a real bad bloody nose. You know how that messes up your eyes.”

  “Looks like you’ve got two black ones, son.”