Stone Cross (Arliss Cutter #2) - Marc Cameron Page 0,44

having to rev the engine to get moving when it was time to go. This gravel surely wreaked havoc on propellers.

The ATVs growled up to surround the plane as soon as Earl shut off the engine. He asked everyone to stay seated until he had a metal stand situated to keep the tail from squatting as the weight moved aft as they deplaned.

Cutter scanned the crowd through his window. It looked like the scene of some unwinnable scenario in protective training. Passive faces he didn’t know, no clear avenue of escape, and virtually everyone had a rifle over their shoulder.

“Well, that’s stuffed,” Lola said, her forehead pressed against the window. “Want me to get out the rifle?”

“What I want to do is have Earl turn the plane around,” Cutter said. “But I suspect we’re going to have to get used to everyone having guns and knives.”

* * *

Cutter walked ahead of the judge, his hands free, eyes playing across the crowd as he made his way down the folding stairs.

The bulk of the greeters stood by their ATVs and looked on in stony silence. It was difficult to tell if they were upset to have visitors or just indifferent. The first smile of the group came from a bear of a man beside the bottom step. He wore the brown uniform and ballistic vest of a village public safety officer. Trained by the state, but paid by the nonprofit Native corporations, these VPSOs provided law enforcement, fire, and rescue response in rural villages where there weren’t enough troopers. They worked alone. Dark bangs stuck out from the edges of a black wool beanie. He had the slightly Asian features of a Yup’ik Eskimo. The patch on his shoulder read: FIRST RESPONDERS IN THE LAST FRONTIER. His Sam Browne duty belt held handcuffs, pepper spray, and a Taser—but no sidearm. Hunching forward slightly, eyes half shut against the snow, he stepped forward when he saw Cutter.

“Are you the marshal?”

Cutter extended his hand. “Deputy Arliss Cutter.”

“Ned Jasper,” the VPSO said. “The L.T. told me about the threat to your judge.” He tossed a nonchalant look over his shoulder. “Don’t pay any attention to all the guns.”

“Hard not to,” Cutter said. “In our line of work.”

“True enough,” Jasper said. “But these guns aren’t for you. We’ve had a couple of rabid foxes lately so everyone is a little bit on edge.”

“Rabies . . .” Lola’s hand drifted to the pistol on her belt. “That’s a relief.”

Ned Jasper shrugged. “It is what it is.”

“It is at that,” Lola muttered. She took a deep breath, as if bracing herself. “Step off the airplane into the food chain.”

Cutter motioned her forward. “This is my partner, Deputy Lola Teariki.”

“Welcome to Stone Cross.” Jasper glanced back and forth from Cutter to Lola. “I never met a marshal before. To be honest, I’ve only heard stories about you guys.”

Lola smiled. “About the marshals riding into town to get the outlaw?”

Ned studied her for a moment, then looked back at Cutter. “Something like that.”

“Thanks for meeting us,” Cutter said. “I’m assuming we load our gear in the trailers.”

“Afraid so.” Ned gave an embarrassed grin. “I was gonna pick you up in the school van, but it’s got a dead battery. You can pick which Honda you wanta ride on and we’ll take you to the school. It’s a ways though, so if you got hats, you should definitely put them on.”

A Native man with a round face and broad middle made a beeline for the judge. Thick salt-and-pepper hair was mussed in back like he’d just gotten out of bed to come meet the plane. His zippered sweatshirt was open to the chill and a tremendous belly pushed a thin T-shirt out away from his body so it hung like a skirt past his waist. One leg of his sweat pants was tucked into black rubber boots. The other, slightly too long, was sodden with snow.

“Melvin Red Fox,” he said, offering a hand, squinting a little as if he’d forgotten his glasses. There was a sadness in his deep brown eyes that was unmistakable, as if he was on the verge of breaking into tears. “I’m the Stone Cross city manager.”

Markham shook the offered hand, working hard not to react to the man’s disheveled appearance. “Thank you for having me out to assist. I look forward to seeing more of your village.”

“That won’t take long,” Melvin said, giving a forced smile. He reached to touch Markham on the elbow. “I