then we moved to Denton Texas. Jack used to say that bein sheriff was one of the best jobs you could have and bein a ex-sheriff one of the worst. Maybe lots of things is like that. We stayed gone and stayed gone. I done different things. Was a detective on the railroad for a while. By that time my wife wasnt all that sure about us comin back here. About me runnin. But she seen I wanted to so that’s what we done. She’s a better person than me, which I will admit to anybody that cares to listen. Not that that’s sayin a whole lot. She’s a better person than anybody I know. Period.
People think they know what they want but they generally dont. Sometimes if they’re lucky they’ll get it anyways. Me I was always lucky. My whole life. I wouldnt be here otherwise. Scrapes I been in. But the day I seen her come out of Kerr’s Mercantile and cross the street and she passed me and I tipped my hat to her and got just almost a smile back, that was the luckiest.
People complain about the bad things that happen to em that they dont deserve but they seldom mention the good. About what they done to deserve them things. I dont recall that I ever give the good Lord all that much cause to smile on me. But he did.
When Bell walked into the cafe on Tuesday morning it was just daylight. He got his paper and went to his table in the corner. The men he passed at the big table nodded to him and said Sheriff. The waitress brought him his coffee and went back to the kitchen and ordered his eggs. He sat stirring the coffee with his spoon although there was nothing to stir since he drank it black. The Haskins boy’s picture was on the front page of the Austin paper. Bell read, shaking his head. His wife was twenty years old. You know what you could do for her? Not a damn thing. Lamar had never lost a man in twenty some odd years. This is what he would remember. This is what he’d be remembered for.
She came with his eggs and he folded the paper and laid it by.
He took Wendell with him and they drove down to the Desert Aire and stood at the door while Wendell knocked.
Look at the lock, Bell said.
Wendell drew his pistol and opened the door. Sheriff’s department, he called.
There aint nobody here.
No reason not to be careful.
That’s right. No reason in the world.
They walked in and stood. Wendell would have holstered his pistol but Bell stopped him. Let’s just keep to that careful routine, he said.
Yessir.
He walked over and picked up a small brass slug off of the carpet and held it up.
What’s that? said Wendell.
Cylinder out of the lock.
Bell passed his hand over the plywood of the room-divider. Here’s where it hit at, he said. He balanced the piece of brass in his palm and looked toward the door. You could weigh this thing and measure the distance and the drop and calculate the speed.
I expect you could.
Pretty good speed.
Yessir. Pretty good speed.
They walked through the rooms. What do you think, Sheriff?
I believe they’ve done lit a shuck.
I do too.
Kindly in a hurry about it, too.
Yep.
He walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator and looked in and shut it again. He looked in the freezer.
So when was he here, Sheriff?
Hard to say. We might of just missed him.
You think this boy has got any notion of the sorts of sons of bitches that are huntin him?
I dont know. He ought to. He seen the same things I seen and it made a impression on me.
They’re in a world of trouble, aint they?
Yes they are.
Bell walked back into the livingroom. He sat on the sofa. Wendell stood in the doorway. He was still holding the revolver in his hand. What are you thinkin? he said.
Bell shook his head. He didnt look up.
By Wednesday half of the State of Texas was on its way to Sanderson. Bell sat at his table in the cafe and read the news. He lowered the paper and looked up. A man about thirty years old that he’d never seen before was standing there. He introduced himself as a reporter for the San Antonio Light. What’s all this about, Sheriff? he said.
It appears to be a huntin accident.
Hunting accident?
Yessir.
How could it be a hunting accident? You’re