“Not long. Come by in a couple of days, and I’ll give you the details.”
“And the money?”
“A thousand now and the rest when you’re done.” Stella counted out ten bills, then put the envelope in a drawer of her metal army-surplus desk and locked it with the key she wore on a chain around her neck.
Ralph walked out with a smile on his face, $1,000 in his wallet and his head full of plans. He’d give Vonda a hundred just to keep her quiet, but there was no way he’d tell her about the rest. And he’d be smart not to tell Stella he was leaving. She wouldn’t like that. It would be safest just to clean out his bank account, do the job, collect the cash, buy the truck, and get the hell out of Dodge. Run fast and far, where Stella, Vonda, Abner—and maybe the Tylers—would never know to look for him.
Plan in place, he climbed into his rusty old pickup and started home. The country oldies station he liked was playing “Take This Job and Shove It.” Ralph turned the volume all the way up and sang along.
* * *
“So you went back and looked down that hole again.” Jasper shook his head. “I wish you hadn’t done that, Sky. All it’ll do is dredge up old sins. Some things are best left alone.”
The two men, dressed in warm jackets, sat on the shared porch of their duplex, sipping Mexican beer and relaxing at the end of a long day. The black-and-white Border collie was curled in his usual spot next to Jasper’s feet. Above the escarpment a fiery sunset was fading to the deep indigo of twilight.
Sky closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in the aromas of wood smoke, horses, and the night’s coming frost. “After I saw those bones, I knew I had to get a better look,” he said. “Now I almost wish I hadn’t.”
Jasper reached down and scratched the dog behind the ears. “Like I said, some things are best left alone.”
“It’s too late for that,” Sky said. “I saw what was left of a collar and a belt. It was a young boy down there—a boy who had a name and a story. I need to know what happened to him. So does Lauren. It’s her land now.” He turned to look straight at Jasper. “If you know the story—and something tells me you do—”
“Oh, hell,” Jasper muttered, “I reckon I won’t get any peace till I tell you. But once you hear the truth, you’re liable to wish you’d left well enough alone.”
“I’ll take that chance,” Sky said.
Jasper shifted in his chair, crumpling the empty beer can between his gnarled hands. “What happened up in that little canyon was before my time here. I didn’t know about it myself till Bull told me a few months before he died. He made me swear not to tell, but since the ones involved are all in their graves, I reckon your knowing won’t hurt none. And since you’re plannin’ to wed a Prescott, it might help you understand why Bull and Ferg hated each other like they did.”
Sky settled back to listen. He’d hoped to have Lauren with him tonight, but she was home nursing a cold. Maybe that was just as well. The old man might talk more freely without her.
“Ferg and Bull weren’t always enemies,” Jasper said. “As boys the same age, on neighboring ranches, they grew up friends. When they weren’t workin’ to help their dads, they were tearin’ around on their bikes and ponies, learnin’ to rope, and playin’ cowboys and Indians in the canyons. I reckon it was about as good a life as two boys can have—till somethin’ happened.”
Jasper sat silent for a moment, watching the dusky shadows creep across the yard. “Ferg had a younger brother—Cooper, that was his name. Cooper was a couple of years younger than Ferg. As Bull put it, he was slow in the head—I guess the way they say it now would be that he was mentally challenged.
“Cooper didn’t have friends his own age, so whenever he could, he tagged after Ferg and Bull—not that the boys liked havin’ him along. Kids that age can be pretty mean. I guess they teased him and played tricks on him. But Cooper just kept taggin’ along like a puppy, probably not smart enough to figure out they didn’t want him.”