Texas, the weather was warming again, and the ice had melted. The work of keeping the cattle fed had eased off some. But taking care of cows was dirty work. When he tried to get close to Vonda, she complained that he smelled like a corral. And there was always the money, which never seemed to be enough.
“How’s your wife?” Stella asked.
Ralph sighed. “Vonda’s mad at me again. She wants to go to the beauty shop in town and get herself some of them fake fingernails. When I told her we didn’t have the money, she threw a hissy fit. Locked me out of the bedroom and told me not to come back till I had it.”
“Does she know you’ve been working for me?”
“Yeah. She’s all for it, as long as I’m bringin’ in extra cash.” He looked up at her. “So, have you got any cleanin’ up or fixin’ to do around here? I don’t need much, just enough for Vonda’s nails.”
“Couldn’t her family give you any help? I’d think her father’s sheriff job would pay well enough.”
“Hell no!” Ralph’s fist clenched around the cold can. “Vonda’s folks kicked her out when she got pregnant. They won’t have nothin’ to do with us. I know Abner Sweeney was voted sheriff, but not by me. I can’t stand the little turd.”
Stella ran a towel over a damp spot on the bar. The last customer had left. Now Ralph was alone with her. “The work around here’s pretty well been done,” she said. “But how’d you like to make two hundred dollars?”
“I’d like that a lot.” Ralph was already counting the money in his head. He’d give Vonda fifty for the beauty shop and keep the rest for himself. He’d been wanting a new pair of boots, but if he bought them, Vonda would know he’d kept money back. Maybe he could just save it up for something big later on, like a new four-wheel ATV or the down payment on a better truck. “What do I have to do for that?” he asked.
“Not much. Just deliver a package, collect the cash from the customer, and bring it back to me.”
Ralph wasn’t too dumb to figure out what would be in the package. But as long as he didn’t know for sure, and as long as nobody got hurt, what was the harm in it? “Sure,” he said. “No problem.”
“Fine. Come into the back office. I’ll give you some directions—and a few rules. We’ll see how this goes.”
Ralph followed her, noticing how she limped, as if her red high-heeled boots were hurting her feet. He remembered how a friend of his, Lute Fletcher, had done some work for Stella. Lute had become greedy, gotten in too deep, and ended up dead. But Ralph wasn’t like Lute. He knew the limits. Just a little job here and there, when he needed spare cash. That’s all he’d do. He could walk away anytime he wanted.
* * *
Clay Drummond didn’t bother to get up when the sheriff walked into his office. He had scant respect for the annoying little man whose visits always left him in a bad mood. And this morning, Clay was in a bad mood already. Stella had just given him another of her so-called reminder calls, hinting at what could happen if he failed to put Will Tyler away for shooting her brother. Now, as if the day could only get worse, here was Abner in his face.
“You got the notice about the inquest, right?” Abner took a seat opposite Clay’s desk.
“I did,” Clay said. “It’ll be just you, me, the judge, the coroner, and any witnesses we want to call in.”
“What about Tori?”
“She can be there if she wants, but only to listen. And Will won’t be there at all. The inquest isn’t a trial. Its purpose is to examine the evidence and, based on that, determine whether a suspect should be charged and tried. You’ll be a witness, of course, and maybe one or two of your deputies.”
Abner quite possibly knew all this, Clay thought. But he enjoyed treating the little man as if he were an ignorant bumpkin.
“What about the little girl?” Abner asked. “She saw the whole thing.”
“I spoke with Tori on the phone. She doesn’t want her daughter put through having to testify. We agreed that, for now, the interview you taped will be enough.”
“Well, I want you to know, Drummond, that I plan to do my job. And I expect you to do yours.