Ghost Medicine (14 page)

“Five-thirty.”

“What were you doing at the Benavidez ranch at five-thirty?” Tommy said.

“Going to work.”

“Where do you work?” Luz asked.

I sighed and yawned again.

“Fall asleep on us, Troy, and we'll sling you over the saddle like we killed you,” Gabe said.

“I'm not about to ever fall asleep on Reno again,” I said, remembering that knot on my head. “You wanna race Dusty up to that tree there? You can say go.”

And before I was done saying it, Gabe and Dusty took off and got a clean three lengths on us before I even touched my heels to Reno. I could have waited longer, but Reno wouldn't. As soon as he realized a race was on, he was right out, leaving the others behind in our dust. It helped wake me up, but of course Reno overtook Dusty and sailed past the tree well ahead. Gabe lost his hat just before the finish line. I swung Reno around as he and Dusty caught up to us.

“You better pick that thing up before it makes the ground dirty,” I said.

Reno was back pedaling and wheeling his hooves, eager to run again. Gabe got down from Dusty and walked back to get his hat.

“Dang, that horse of yours is a runner,” he said. He brushed his hat off and replaced it on his head, his hair slicked back. He must have combed it before Mrs. Benavidez dispatched him to keep his eye on me. On us.

“Okay, showoffs, if you didn't want us to ride with you, you shoulda told us to stay home!” Tom called out from the road behind us. We rode back to catch them up.

“Damn, Stotts, I was bettin' with Luz how far you'd get before you fell off.”

Luz rode up next to me and leaned over close. “He said you're getting to be a damn good rider.”

I wanted to kiss her real bad. I looked at Tom and Gabe, then back at Luz. “And what did you say?”

“I told him if you did fall off, I'd kiss you.”

“You shoulda told me before I took off,” I said, straight-mouthed.

We rode together, four horses abreast up that dirt road to the tree that had been our finish line, listening to the
clop-clop
of the horses' hooves against the ground. Then we heard that rattling Ford truck coming straight down the road toward us.

“I don't believe this,” Tommy said.

The truck braked and shifted sideways in the road, with nowhere to go; its path blocked completely by our four horses. And Chase Rutledge was driving.

Tommy was first down from his horse, followed by me and then, finally Gabe. Luz stayed back on Doats, who kept the other horses steady in their places. Tommy went to the driver's door and opened it. Chase just sat there, blankly staring straight ahead through the windshield, looking at Luz and the horses. He was wearing that greasy, blackened sheriff ‘s baseball cap, hands resting on top of the steering wheel.

“What the hell are you doing, Chase?” Tom said.

I could tell Chase was careful with what he said to Tom Buller; and how he said it, too.

“I was just using the truck and trailer to move Jack's motorcycle over to my house,” he said. “I asked your dad and he said okay.”

“That's a lie,” I said. “Carl never said you could take it. I called your dad this morning after I saw you steal it.”

“I didn't steal anything,” he insisted.

“I tell you what, Stotts. We already called the sheriff on him. What do you say we just go ahead and make a citizen's arrest? I got some zip ties in my saddlebag. I say we just cuff him up and leave him here and let his daddy come get him,” Tom said, getting closer and closer to the side of Chase's face.

Chase didn't say anything. He just stared at Luz. He clenched his fist, and I know Tommy noticed it, too, so I didn't say anything. Chase couldn't be stupid enough to fight, I thought, because he'd not only have to deal with Tom, but with me, Gabe, and probably Luz, too.

“Yeah, let's tie him up, Tommy,” Gabe said.

“I think that sounds like a good idea,” Tommy said. “We could tie him up and then
not
call his daddy. Just leave him here.”

I could tell Chase was getting mad and scared. But I knew Tommy wasn't serious about tying him up, either.

“Look. Here's what you're going to do, Chase,” I said. “You're going to take this truck on back to the Foreman's house and you're going to park it back where you got it. Then you're going to walk home to see your dad. And we better not ever see you anywhere around Benavidez ranch again.”

Chase didn't say anything to me, but just looking at him sitting there, stubborn, in that truck made me madder and madder. So I added, “Or next time we're gonna mess you up.”

“What do you mean by that, Stotts?” Chase said.

And Tommy said, “It's a good way to get yourself shot.”

Tom slammed the door shut and spit. Chase looked at him, then me, then fixed his stare straight ahead.

“And Chase,” I said. “Slow it down.”

The three of us got back up on our horses and moved them to the side of the road to let the truck through. Chase didn't look at us as he drove past, slowly, until he wound out of our sight.

“You didn't say nothin' about the money,” Gabe said.

“Probly better to wait and see after he gets the truck back,” Tommy said. “Anyways, we all know it was Chase now.”

“Maybe you should turn around,” I said to Tommy. “You could give Carl a hand.”

He knew what I meant. He pulled Arrow's head around and was facing back the way we had come. “Anyone want to ride along? Gabey?”

Gabe looked at me, then Luz. “Mom would kill me. You know that. Then Dad would spit on my corpse.”

“Why don't you both go on back with him?” I said.

“You don't want to ride home alone,” Luz said.

“It's how I got here. I'll see you in the morning, Tom.”

“See you, Stotts.”

And I rode off toward home, my heart pounding from standing up to Chase, and regretting that I hadn't fallen from my horse.

When I was near the drainpipe we called “the bridge,” I heard a car coming up behind me. It was the sheriff ‘s black-and-white Ford Bronco. His headlights were on, but not the flashers on top. I pulled Reno over, hoping Clayton Rutledge would just drive past us, but he lowered the passenger-side window and stopped right alongside.

“Troy Stotts?”

“Yes.”

“Why don't you get on down from that horse, son. I'd like to talk to you.”

I could hear him crunch on the parking brake, and he got out of his side of the car, leaving it idling, parked a little diagonally in the dirt road like he was doing something important and dangerous, with the headlights still on. I got down from Reno, put my hands into the pockets of my jacket, and walked around to where he was standing, by the front of his car in the light.

“That's a real big horse you got there, son. How big is he?”

“He's a lot bigger than me, I know that.”

“I bet you paid a good bit for him, too.”

“Less than you'd think,” I said. I looked down at my feet.

“So what is it you do there at the ranch?”

“Whatever the bosses tell me to do.”

Then Clayton Rutledge got a little closer to me. He put his right hand on the hood of the vibrating car and tilted his face down at an angle. I could smell his breath, hot and moist, and he hadn't shaved today. But I knew he at least took the time to eat a few good meals, judging by the taut balloon of flab that hung over a belt that I couldn't picture how—or why—he'd ever put it on, unless it was just to hold that gun of his, a big Smith & Wesson .357. His voice raised in pitch and volume a little. I could tell he was uncomfortable, but also trying to scare me.

“So you say you saw Chase stealing that truck Carl Buller drives?”

“I did.”

“Did he break into it?”

“No, sir.”

“Did he have the keys?”

“They were left in it, I guess.”

He exhaled a big gust of humid, foul breath into my face. “Look. Chase didn't steal nothing. He just used the truck to get a motorcycle he bought from Jack Crutchfield. He told me he found the truck abandoned quite a ways from that Foreman's house with the keys still in it. So he decided to bring it back and he used it to move this bike on the way. He said he had permission.”

“Not from anyone who could've given it.”

“He was just borrowing the truck. Carl Buller told him it was okay.”

“Not before he took it, he didn't.”

“Well, you know Carl.” And I understood what he meant by that.

I was just looking past him, sometimes glancing back at Reno. The sheriff was getting mad, I could tell.

“Look, Troy. My son's a good boy. He just graduated high school. He's been a lifeguard over at the pool at Holmes. He doesn't get into trouble. He's a good kid.”

“Well, so am I, but I never stole a truck before.”

Then he pushed me, just enough to snap me back a little, with his left hand straight-arming my shoulder.

“Okay, smart ass. I'll tell you how it is, then. I'm two years away from retirement. Two years. This is a good job, patrolling from home, and I don't want to get sent anywhere else in this county. I'm done with that. We do things different here, you should know that—you lived here longer than me. It's not like the big city. People leave their doors open and their keys in their cars. I tell ‘em not to. And out here you just gotta take care of things for yourself. And for me, that means I just gotta solve problems for everyone. I'm going to retire soon and I don't need any trouble here. My son's a good boy, he was just using the truck to move that dirt bike and now he's brought it back, so it's all good now. Fact is, you don't really know
what
you saw this morning.”

I know he was just trying to get me to doubt what I knew I saw.

“Was the money still there, too?”

“What money?”

“There was five thousand dollars in cash in the glove compartment Carl put there from selling a horse for Mr. Benavidez yesterday.”

“I'll look into that. If it was there this morning, it's still there now. But you know Carl Buller.”

“Yeah. I do.”

“And did you tell Chase that you'd kill him if you ever saw him back on Benavidez land?”

“Yes.” I didn't even think to lie. I said it because I hated his son.

Clayton shook his head. “You know, I could throw you in jail right now for saying that. You know that's against the law?”

I waited. Then I said, matter-of-factly, “Well, if you're not going to arrest a car thief, I guess you're not going to put me in jail for just shooting off my mouth, either.”

I just wasn't thinking. I wasn't trying to make Clayton mad, it just happened.

And then, with the hand that was resting on the hood of the car, he hit me right across the face. I tried to duck, but he caught my nose with his thick fingers and as I spun away I could already feel the blood running out, warm and thick and smelling like metal.

Clayton Rutledge handed me one of those blue paper towels from a service station. I was sitting on the side of the road, Reno was smelling my head, which was between my knees. Blood was flowing down the front of my shirt, onto my pants, onto my jacket. My eyes were blurred.

“Here. Clean yourself up, boy.”

Then he went back to the car. I heard him open the door.

“You just better know that next time you go accusing anyone around here of anything, you better get your story straight first, boy. Or let the real police handle it. You just be glad I'm not handcuffing you and hauling your butt in right now, ‘cause I could do that.”

Then the door slammed shut and he pulled out. I kept my head down as he drove away. I was crying. It didn't hurt so bad; I was just mad and a little scared, too.

Things'll be better, Troy.

I don't know.

Don't cry, Troy. Don't cry anymore, son. Things'll be better now. She was tired. Too tired. She fought hard for a long time and we did the best we could and she got to be here until the end. That's all she wanted, so don't cry, son. It's you and me now. We have each other and we'll be okay. I promise. I just hate to see you cry, Troy. It hurts me worse than anything.

I guess it'll stop when it stops.

My dad wasn't home when I got back, and I was relieved about that. I got some clean clothes on and washed up. Then I called Tommy and asked him if it would be okay if I spent the night over at his house and if he could come get me. I didn't say anything else, I just hung up, sure that Tom knew something was wrong and he'd get here as soon as he could.

Then I started to write my dad a note on that yellow pad in the kitchen when I heard him opening the door. He must have gone pretty far because he had bags from a grocery store in his arms. He came into the kitchen and put the bags down by the sink, then looked at me with wide, surprised eyes.

“Oh my God, Troy. What happened to you?”

“Reno rode me right into a tree. It was dark and I wasn't paying attention.”

My dad grabbed my head with both of his hands and looked right into my eyes.

“Your eyes look terrible. Are you okay, son?”

“Yeah. I just had a real bad bloody nose. You know how that messes up your eyes.”

“Looks like you've got two black ones, son.”

“I know. I'm an idiot.” And I caught myself because I felt like I was about to start crying. “I put all my bloody clothes in the wash.”

“I swear that horse is going to kill you one of these days.”

Stottsy, that look means he's not tired of trying to kill you is all.

“Or die trying.” And then I kind of laughed, which, I'm sure, tipped my dad that something was not right.

“You
sure
you're okay, Troy? There anything wrong?”

“Really, Dad. I'm okay. And Dad, Tom Buller's coming to get me so I can spend the night there. We got a lot of early work to do tomorrow, if that's okay.”

“You're working too much, I think.” And he went to the freezer and opened it. “Let's get some ice on that nose. It's probably broken.”

“Dad. I'm not working too much. I love it there.”

And he came back from the sink with a towel bundled around some ice cubes. I sat down on the couch with that ice pack on my face and waited for the sound of the Ford pickup signaling Tommy's arrival. It came in a few minutes and I said good night to my father and left.

“He took the money,” Tom said as soon as I opened the door.

“I know it.” Then the dome light's shine fell on my face.

“Jeez, Stotts, what the hell happened to you?”

“Clayton Rutledge punched me for smarting off.” I took a deep, quavering breath to calm down.

“Troy Stotts smarting off? No way, man. Who'd believe it?”

I smiled and it hurt.

“What did your dad say?” he asked.

“I didn't tell him. I told him Reno treed me. What did your dad say about the money?”

“He went to Benavidez and told him he'd quit if he wanted him to, but Benavidez wouldn't have it. He said Rutledge explained it to Benavidez and it was all cleared up. So CB got pretty messed up. He's out cold now.”

“Take me to the main house, Tommy. I'll walk back to your place after I see the man.”

We drove away from my house in silence, the headlights cutting narrowed triangles of light into the blackness of the night, the graveled road skimming below them, dull and gray like the surface of the moon.

“What're we going to do, Tommy?”

“I don't think there's anything we
can
do,” he said.

“He said he was going to arrest
me
,” I said.

“That would be too much work,” Tom explained. “I think Clayton Rutledge's worked more in the last twelve hours than he has all year.”

It was after 8 when Tommy dropped me off outside the main house. I knocked, quietly, because of the hour. I waited and then knocked again. Luz opened the door. She gasped when she saw me, then came outside and closed the door behind her.

“Oh Troy! What happened?”

“Clayton Rutledge.”

“Oh no!” And she grabbed my head and lightly touched around my nose and eyes with her cool fingers, so soft. I would have taken twice the beating to have her touch me like that again. I closed my eyes because I felt like I was going to cry. “I'm so sorry, Troy. We can't let him get away with it. You need to see my father.”

“That's why I'm here. But I can't go in yet, give me a minute.”

So we sat down on the steps, looking out at the night. We didn't talk; she had her arm around me and my head was down between my knees the way I was sitting after Clayton hit me; and we just stayed like that for the longest time, me feeling miserable and wonderful at the same time, feeling the warmth of Luz Benavidez next to me.

“Okay. I can go in now.”

We stood up and kissed once before she opened the door.

And then I whispered, “But Luz, I don't want everyone looking at me and asking questions. I'm really tired and worn out. I just want to see him alone.”

“Go upstairs and wait in his office. I'll get him.”

I was scared sitting in that office, just waiting. And then I heard his footsteps coming up the stairs and I wished I hadn't come at all. I stood up when the door opened, holding my hat in front of me with both my hands, like a shield. Mr. Benavidez stopped and stared when he saw me. I stuck out my hand.

“Hello, sir,” I said.

He took my hand. Not so hard this time.

“Troy. What happened?”

And then I told him the whole story. He stood there, in front of the door as if to block my escape, listening and nodding his head occasionally.

“This is outrageous, son,” he said. “In the morning I'm going to call the county sheriff and see if there's something that can be done about Deputy Rutledge's behavior. Has your father seen this?”