Badlands (9 page)

“Maybe,” said Du Pré. “I don’t see her so good.”

Some Host children ran past, dressed in miniature outfits that echoed the grownups’. They were laughing and chaffing like any other kids.

“You are thinking, Du Pré,” said Madelaine, “that is a good thing but maybe you don’t think in one place too long, eh?”

Du Pré laughed.

“Yah,” he said.

“If this is fake,” said Madelaine, “there will be something don’t fit. Lies got to be made up and the truth just happens.”

Du Pré laughed. They walked outside and looked at the Wolf Mountains to the west. They had clouds hanging right over the highest peaks.

“Early for the circle rains,” said Madelaine.

“Yah,” said Du Pré.

Clouds formed above the peaks by day as the sun evaporated moisture, and then at night the clouds fell as dew. In the early morning the sky would be clear, and then clouds would build and gather as the day went on. It meant there was no wind. No rain coming, either.

A tan government sedan pulled into the lot where the cars and vans and pickup trucks of the guests were parked.

A man and a woman in gray suits got out. They looked round for a moment, and then Tate came out of the building where Du Pré had spoken with him, the man with the broken nose, and the White Priest. Tate trotted up to the two agents and led them back to the building and through the door Du Pré had gone in a couple of hours before.

“That Ripper and Pidgeon they are undercover,” said Madelaine. “Them two look like bugs on a bedsheet.”

Du Pré laughed.

“This White Priest,” said Du Pré, “him say they don’t want no trouble, they don’t got anything to do with the murders.”

“You believe him?” said Madelaine.

“No,” said Du Pré, “don’t not believe him, either. They say they will call me, they are going to do something.”

“Like shoot the horses?” said Madelaine.

Du Pré nodded.

“They know a lot,” said Madelaine, “’bout raising buffalo, which is not like cattle. Where they find that all out?”

“Books,” said Du Pré.

Madelaine laughed.

“Dessert,” she said. “Me, I want some.”

They went back in the big metal barn and found a booth that served ice cream. Madelaine had two scoops of strawberry. Du Pré had some whiskey from his pocket flask.

Raymond and Jacqueline and their herd were gathering at the far end of the building. Jacqueline said something forcefully. The children cast their eyes down and then the family began to walk out toward the parked van that they had come in. When they got close Pallas scooted out from the tangle and she ran up to Du Pré and Madelaine.

“You maybe take me back. I want to stay,” she said. She narrowed her eyes.

“
Non
,” said Madelaine. “You go on with your people.”

Pallas knew better than to argue with a
non.

“Good time,” said Raymond, when he got close. He was carrying a small child and a large stuffed monkey.

“We got tired kids getting cranky,” said Madelaine.

“I am not tired,” said Pallas.

“You,” said Jacqueline, “you maybe take a nap when we get home, you want to or not.”

Pallas dug her toe in the dirt.

“Shit,” she said.

“You are being spoiled,” said Raymond. “You stop now. Eh?”

Pallas nodded.

“We see you later maybe,” said Jacqueline. They took their tired herd off to the big dark green van and everybody got in and Raymond started it and they drove off.

Du Pré and Madelaine watched them go. Du Pré rolled a cigarette and lit it and Madelaine took her long drag. He smoked the rest of it and then he put it out on the ground and they wandered back into the big metal building.

Pidgeon was shooting at the targets in the little gallery booth. Du Pré and Madelaine walked up to her. She was aiming very deliberately and taking her time and missing.

She took the little air rifle down from her shoulder.

“There’s a trick to this,” she said, looking at them.

“Sights are set off,” said Du Pré. “Use the barrel.”

“Oh,” said Pidgeon.

The young man in the booth was staring at her and trying hard not to seem to be staring at her.

Pidgeon stuck the rifle to her shoulder and she pulled the trigger and the bull’s-eye fell out. It went
pank
on the metal pan,

“Top shelf,” said the young man. His voice was a croak. Pidgeon was making his mouth dry.

“I’ll take the bear,” said Pidgeon. “The big pink one there.”

The young man handed her prize to her.

Pidgeon held the fat fluffy thing out at arm’s length.

“A thing of beauty is a joy forever,” she said.

“Amen,” said the man in the booth, and then he flushed red.

Pidgeon ignored him. She tucked the big pink bear under her arm and sauntered toward the door that led out to the parked cars.

Du Pré and Madelaine followed after her. She walked slowly and gracefully, head down, lost in thought.

She got to the cruiser and opened the back door, shoved the big pink bear in and shut the door.

“Could I have a smoke?” she said.

Du Pré rolled one and he held it out. Pidgeon stuck it in her lips and she held out her hand. Du Pré gave her his shepherd’s lighter.

Pidgeon lit the cigarette and she inhaled deep.

“Ahhhhh,” she said. “It’s unhealthy and I like it.”

Du Pré shrugged. He had never seen her smoke before.

“Charming,” said Pidgeon. She nodded toward the carnival in the barn.

“They want to be liked,” said Madelaine.

“Bunch of crap,” said Pidgeon.

Madelaine shrugged.

“They hauled you off,” said Pidgeon, looking at Du Pré.

Du Pré nodded.

“Nice barbecue,” said Pidgeon, “nice booths, free shit, and about five percent of the county came.”

“Most people are suspicious,” said Madelaine.

“Dunno why,” said Pidgeon. “Me, I am, too, even though I did get a nice big pink bear. I will send it to Harvey. With a note, says, well I am working hard and how are you?”

Du Pré saw two men walking toward the building that he had gone into hours before.

One of them was Ripper.

“You get the pitch,” said Pidgeon. ‘You get the
ad,
Du Pré?”

“Guy with a busted nose tell me they will not shoot the wild horses,” said Du Pré, “said they call me they don’t know what to do.”

Pidgeon nodded.

“Yeah,” she said. “And you met the White Priest?”

“Yah,” said Du Pré, “long hair, beard, sandals, all white, white robe and crucifix.”

“What color hair?” said Pidgeon.

Du Pré shrugged.

“Brown,” he said. “Little gray in it.”

“Real nice voice the White Priest has,” said Pidgeon.

Du Pré nodded.

Pidgeon dropped her cigarette.

“Wasn’t him,” she said.

P
IDGEON WAS LISTENING INTENTLY
to her cell phone.

“Screw you, Harvey,” she said. “I quit. There isn’t a thing for me to do here I cannot do at home. Go ahead, fire me. Have a good time. I will be in on the late plane from Cincinnati.”

Pidgeon listened intently to her cell phone.

“Piss up a rope, Harvey,” she said, “and then stand under it while it dries.” She shut her cell phone.

“Harvey sends his love,” said Pidgeon.

Du Pré nodded. He slowed down to eighty-five. There was a crossroads up ahead and the left was blind. A low hill hid the road.

“Poor Harvey,” said Madelaine, “he tries so hard.”

“What he’s trying to do,” said Pidgeon, “is get me to stay here so he doesn’t have to come.”

Du Pré snorted.

“I leave you the excellent Ripper,” said Pidgeon. “That little monster might even get himself killed this time. Luck happens, you know.”

Pidgeon was in the backseat of the cruiser with her big pink stuffed bear and her gear was piled under it and in the trunk. She was dressed in a tan twill suit, good to travel in.

“You be back,” said Madelaine, “you be back.” It wasn’t a question.

“Du Pré,” said Pidgeon, “you be real careful around these people. They are good. Man, are they good.”

“Who is this White Priest?” said Du Pré.

“Gary Carl Smith,” said Pidgeon. “Problem is, we don’t know which one or if that
is
his name. Nobody we know knows what he looks like. Always in a costume, got his head wrapped in a scarf. Like Peter O’Toole in
Lawrence of Arabia.
Got some stand-ins. You met one of ’em.”

They were past the crossroads so Du Pré got up to cruising speed.

“Ya know,” said Pidgeon, “when I fly, I sorta like having wings on what I’m flyin’ in. A quirk, but I got it.
You goddamn halfbreed son of a bitch, slow this motherfucker down!”

Du Pré slowed to ninety.

“More,” said Pidgeon.

Du Pré slowed to seventy.

“So,” said Du Pré, “we don’t know the White Priest is here even.”

“Nope,” said Pidgeon.

“Him kill those people, though.”

“Well,” said Pidgeon, “it seems damned likely, as there isn’t another thread that connects. But there’s always a possibility it
could
be somebody else who wanted to set them up. Could be the Russians, all we know. Osama Bin Laden. Aliens.”

Du Pré sighed. He reached under the seat for his flask.

“Du Pré,” said Madelaine, “that mean blond Highway Patrol lady is up here some and she want, toss you in the can, weld it shut, you know.”

Du Pré put the flask back.

“Which lady?” said Pidgeon.

“Officer Parker,” said Madelaine. “She about bust Du Pré there but McPhie he come along, he say, you behave now, Du Pré. You get a license and you quit drinkin’ so much, driving a hundred twenty.”

“They have actual
police
out here?” said Pidgeon.

“Yah,” said Du Pré, “give you ticket bad breath, goin’ too fast, just like that Washington, D.C.”

“Du Pré,” said Pidgeon, “it is the law, you know. How fast are we going?” Pidgeon leaned over the seat.

Seventy.

They passed a Montana Highway Patrol car hiding in a cut a ranch road took off from.

Pidgeon looked back through the window.

“Ah-haaaaahhhhh,” she said. “Here they come, lights a-blazin’.”

Du Pré looked in the rearview mirror.

“What the fuck,” he said. “I am obeying the speed limit.”

He slowed and pulled off on the shoulder.

The Highway Patrol car stopped, lights flashing. The door of the car opened and Officer Parker got out. She was about five feet tall and blond. She wore big black mirrored glasses.

Du Pré rolled down his window.

Parker came up to it. She bent over and put her head in.

“You OK,” she said.

“Yah,” said Du Pré. “I am doing the damn speed limit, yes?”

“Yeah,” said Parker, “you were, which worried the hell out of me. There’s Du Pré I says to myself, and he musta been carjacked cause he is just driving the speed limit. Little under actually. You feel all right?”

“I am fine,” said Du Pré.

“Well,” said Officer Parker, “I just needed to know this lady in the back there wasn’t holding a gun to the back of your head.”

“No,” said Du Pré.

“I am encouraged,” said Officer Parker, “since there is hardly any reek of bourbon about you, too. You all right? Didn’t take the cure or anything?”

Du Pré spread his hands.

“McPhie even told me that you got an actual driver’s license,” said Parker, “a real one, good now till 2007, one of those hundred dollar ones lasts eight whole years. Got your picture on it and everything.”

Du Pré started digging for his wallet. He fished his license out and he handed it to Officer Parker.

“Son of a bitch,” said Parker, “that lyin’ sack of shit McPhie wasn’t a lyin’ sack of shit for once.” She handed back the license.

“Well,” said Officer Parker, “I will now let you go on your merry way and I will go back in my hole and wait for a miscreant to come along. It is my job and I love it … Whoa—” and she fell back and pulled out her gun.

“Outta the car, hands behind your head,” she screamed.

She was pointing the gun at Pidgeon.

“No!” Du Pré roared. “She is FBI!”

Parker’s eyes flicked from Du Pré to Madelaine to Pidgeon, who had her hands up.

“Special Agent Pidgeon Federal Bureau of Investigation,” said Pidgeon, “I have ID.”

“Du Pré?” said Parker.

“Yes,” said Du Pré.

“I just saw the damn gun,” said Parker.

Du Pré turned. Pidgeon had unbuttoned her jacket and the butt of her Glock showed, barely, above her right hip.

Parker breathed deeply and she raised her stainless steel automatic.

“Wheeyew,” she said. “Gave me a start.”

Pidgeon got out of the car. She held out her ID.

“It’s fine,” said Parker. “One of those misunderstandings.”

Officer Parker walked back to her cruiser, got in, and turned it round and headed northeast.

Pidgeon watched her go.

“Jesus,” she said. “How these things happen.”

“Yah,” said Du Pré, “I am driving slow and get us mostly killed.”

Pidgeon’s cell phone chirred.

“Grrrr,” she said. She opened the thing.

“Listen asshole,” she snarled, “I—”

She flushed.

“Yes, sir,” she said. “I was perhaps a little rude there. …”

She listened some more.

“No, he’s fine,” said Pidgeon. “We just have this routine, you know. Yeah, I will. I’ll be in tomorrow.”

She shut the cell phone, got back in the car, and Du Pré drove on.

They came near to Billings and Du Pré took a back road that led them up on the Rims to the airport. He drove up to the short-term lot and they got out and all of them carried things into the Delta counter.

“We go now,” said Du Pré. “You tell that Harvey hello for us, we see him here soon.”

Pidgeon nodded. She and Madelaine hugged and she kissed Du Pré on the cheek.

“I am sure I’ll get sent back, too,” said Pidgeon.

“This is pret’ bad,” said Madelaine. She was looking at Pidgeon.

Pidgeon nodded.

“We go after criminals,” she said. “Truth to tell, most of ’em don’t have enough brains to scrape over a cracker. But a few do. I dunno what’s goin’ on with this cult, but it’s not good.”