table with their own baked goods and bowls of Halloween candy. They’d stay all day and share whatever they felt like sharing. And even though many of them had gardens, they’d probably all take home a pumpkin. Some would come in costume.
Before the crowds arrived, Hank Cooper came around the corner of the big Victorian house. Alone.
“Hey,” Jack said. “You bring any Riordans?”
“They’ll be coming. I thought maybe I could have a second. I could help you set up, if you want my help.”
“We’re ahead of it here,” Jack said. “What’s on your mind?”
“Well, it’s this. Sometimes I do unpopular things. I’m not saying that incident back at Ft. Benning—that was entirely a twenty-two-year-old mishap of me being in the wrong place at the wrong time with a wrong woman and not my fault. But I’ve had strong opinions about things here and there—like quitting oil companies I worked for because I disagreed with their practices, that kind of thing. You might not understand that—but then, maybe you’ve never seen what happens in a spill.”
Preacher started scraping the char off the grill with a spatula. “In my opinion, it is not wrong to avail yourself of what the earth provides, but it is wrong to abuse and exploit and endanger it.”
“Yeah,” Coop said.
Jack slanted a narrow-eyed look at Preacher, who always surprised him. “Avail yourself?”
“You know—help yourself…”
“I know what it means,” Jack said.
“So, the deal is,” Coop went on, “sometimes I get a reputation. Not always a fair one, but still. So what I do, just to make sure I can always bail myself out if I have to or get work again if I need to—I keep some records. Documentation.”
“Very smart. I keep records, too,” Preacher said, scraping.
“Get yourself in a lot of tight spots, do you?”
“I prefer to think of myself as a man of principle. So, I made a few copies of things from way back. There’s an envelope in my truck that I’d like to transfer to your truck. It might make for interesting late-night reading. It’s a record of my arrest, the results of a brief investigation, my release and honorable discharge. I did very good work for the Army, but to say the Army wasn’t sorry to see me go would be an understatement.” He gave a shrug. “It’s been said I have trouble with authority.”
Jack frowned slightly. “Why didn’t you explain that sooner? That you have the proof?”
“For starters, I didn’t know your name. I never forget a face, however. You don’t look that much different than you did fifteen years ago.” Jack stood a little taller. “Except for the gray,” Coop said, brushing his fingers through his own brown hair, right at the temples.
“And you were doing so well…” Jack said. Then he added, “For starters?”
“I kept records, but it rubs me the wrong way to have to prove myself. To anyone. What happened to innocent until proven guilty?”
“That pride get in your way much?” Jack asked.
“Sometimes that’s all a man’s got.”
“Well, I’d be happy to take that envelope off your hands. And can I just say, that’s a good thing you did. For Luke and for me—you might be passing through, but we’re staying here. We don’t need bad blood between us, me and Luke.”
“That’s the thing—this place is growing on me. I might sit out some time here. And we might never be friends, you and I.”
Jack gave a shrug. “Just so we’re not enemies.”
“Yeah,” Coop said, running a hand around the back of his neck. “But just so you know, you pretty much irritate the shit outta me.”
“Is that a fact?”
“You’re such a goddamn know-it-all…”
Both men looked suddenly at Preacher to find him grinning like a kid. “You’ll find that kind of comes and goes… .” He gave a chuckle. “You’ll like him better after you take some money off him at poker. He hardly ever wins.”
“Funny,” Jack said. Then to Coop he said, “Come on, let’s go get that envelope before the crowds descend.”
After tossing the envelope in his truck, Jack turned to Coop and stuck out a hand. “You irritate me, too. We might as well shake on it.”
Cooper took the hand. And he laughed.
* * *
Tom was up before 5:00 a.m. and the first sound he heard was that of Junior pulling a flatbed past