big-wheel black pickup was parked alongside her, with Quicksilver on guard in its high empty bed.
"I saw you three heading into the terminal," Tallgrass told Ric through his rolled-down window. "That your foster mother?"
Ric nodded.
"She married?"
Ric nodded.
Leonard Tallgrass shook his head and reinstalled his straw Stetson. "Always knew there wasn't any justice in the universe." He nodded at the high-riding pickup's rear. "No dogs risk their lives to ride in my truck bed, not even your whip-smart Quicksilver, Miss Delilah. So get down your Dolly Parton's top, and I'll lead you three to the most amazing sight Wichita has ever seen."
"TALLGRASS IS A character," I told Ric as he drove Dolly two tailpipe-lengths behind the black pickup.
"He plays on that, yeah. Since he's Native American, people underestimate him. Not even the Millennium Revelation changed that."
"And you're wearing your silky, pale Vegas suit today, dude," I pointed out. "That for seeing off 'Mom'?"
"That's on Tallgrass's orders. And, except for those fashionista hair plaits, you look ultra-reporterly, as I requested, in those closed-toed pumps and that navy Catholic girls' school suit."
"Was that a personal or professional request?" I asked.
I may have triggers of my own, but I was beginning to target his. Ric liked me either very buttoned up or very stripped and unzipped, although he'd put up with in-between if he had to.
"Professional," he answered promptly. "We might be going into the devil's den today."
"And you won't tell me any more?"
He shook his head. "You work better as an investigator on instinct."
"Really? That could be a put-down."
"Really, Del. And it's a compliment. Tallgrass and I have an agenda where we're going, but if you want to strike out on your own, do it. You have those sterling-silver instincts. Where is that little devil now, anyway?"
I had to think about it, finally dredging up a thin silver chain from the modest vee opening of my jacket.
"Would you believe," I told him, "I've got an Our Lady of the Lake class ring on a chain around my neck? I couldn't afford to buy a class ring when I graduated on scholarship."
"I'm sure they can be ordered retroactively," Ric said, following Tallgrass on a left turn and then gawking up at the sky. "Wow. Would you believe that?"
I was still clinging to the promise of a class ring when I looked up past Dolly's red visor to an endless blue summer Kansas sky pierced by a seventy-story Hollywood sound-stage icon made real. We'd been exploring the wrong, west side of town. Obviously, the big-time action was all on the east side, where the sun rose.
Well, using my new "at least" philosophy, I at least had a watchdog and a couple of ex-FBI guys to accompany my triumphal entrance to the Emerald City of Wichita.
Hah! Even Quicksilver looked a tad worried about driving right under the Emerald City. Once Ric and Tallgrass had parked our bulky vehicles beside each other in the lot, we paused to gaze up and up at the slick towers so like a cluster of giant sparkling water bottles, green and shiny.
"Fits the prairie setting. They look like plastic silos," I commented.
Tallgrass chuckled, looking down through his high driver's seat window.
"Don't tell my pal Ben Hassard that. He's fought like a cornered wolverine to get this opportunity for our tribes."
"This is a Native American project?" Ric asked.
"Yup. First one outside reservation land. Whole new world, amigo." Tallgrass collapsed a couple sticks of Black Jack gum in his mouth and chewed it like a wad of Red Man. "I did my best to discourage Ben, but he's got this far and is in there dealing with the white man even now."
My eyes and ears were panoramic webcams, recording, recording. This was a Big Story, right here in Wichita, where the unending march of gambling money that funded state operating needs met the reinterpretation of what was owed the decimated Native populations. Entertainment entities from CSI to Emerald City were taking over the heartland's minds and landscapes.
Too bad I didn't have a venue to report anymore.
Quicksilver nudged his head under the loosely curled hand at my side and whimpered. He either agreed with me about the sad decline of professional news reporting in the post - Millennium Revelation world, or he wanted a puppy biscuit.
RIC WAS COUNTING on me to be a quick study, so I did my Wizard of Aahs fan-girl bit and filled them in.
First I had to go through the "dazzle" phase.
The Wizard of Oz, known for its spectacular Technicolor,