Stripped Bare (15 page)

“I would normally avoid Dahlia,” she said, “as she's a vexation of the spirit if ever there was.” Another “Desiderata” reference. It was Mom's guide to life. “However, in this case I felt compelled to do a little vexing of my own.”

If Mom wanted to vex, Dahlia had no clue how lucky she'd been with Clete Rasmussen's interruption.

I, on the other hand, understood perfectly that I was heading for destruction.

 

12

I wanted to saddle up and ride to a shady spot on the bank of Frog Creek, lean my back against an old cottonwood that a forgotten homesteader had planted there in hope of a prosperous ranch life, and cry until the pressure in my chest eased. My husband had betrayed me, leaving shreds of bloody flesh lumped where my heart used to beat. And now I had to put myself in front of the community and act as though nothing had changed.

I stepped into the noisy Legion hall. I might have been projecting my angst, but it seemed to me that even the air had an edge to it. Faces appeared strained, voices tighter than usual. Mom drifted off, taking her soft cashmere shawl and Lily of the Valley with her. Dahlia herded Sid and the rest of her contingent toward the front.

Clete ushered me in and pointed toward the long cafeteria-style table along the wall. “You can sit next to Rich.”

Without warning, Clete tilted his head back and bellowed above the noise. “Take your seats. We'll get started.”

The glow from one of Hodgekiss's four streetlamps beckoned from beyond the windows in the door.

Rich Hamner sat at the table with his hands folded in front of him, a nervous grin plastered on his face. He ran for sheriff because he believed that sheriffing was easier than working as a ranch hand—and paid better, too.

I couldn't disagree. Ted spent most of his time cruising around, gossiping with the coffee bunch every morning at the Long Branch, driving the patrol car in the Grand County Fair parade, and occasionally busting an underage drinking party or issuing a speeding ticket. Not much marred the tranquility of Grand County, but when it did, I'd often helped Ted untangle the mystery.

I smoothed my windblown hair, pulled a barrette from my skirt pocket, and tried to tie down the riotous mop. Several people smiled or nodded at me. Normally I'd have exchanged words with a dozen people before now. They were appraising me, seeing how I held up under the strain of the Roxy/Ted situation. Some people didn't even venture eye contact, just gave me a side-eye. Or else I was paranoid. I stepped to the front.

Rich had combed his hair and slicked it with nasty-smelling gel. It was the campaign look he pulled out every four years for the debate. While at the Long Branch or working, he either wore a stained and sagging felt cowboy hat, gray with age, or sported greasy hat-hair.

I nodded to him and slid onto the cold metal folding chair. With the bare table, I was glad I'd worn the broomstick skirt to drape well below my knees.

Clete stood to the side of the table. He had the presence of Moses as played by Charlton Heston—before Moses grew the white beard but when he was still a fun-hater. My family took up the first three rows of folding chairs, on my left side.

Uncle Bud and Aunt Twyla crowded in. Twyla grinned at me from beneath her dark hair. Dad stood next to Jack Carson by the bar, Coors bottle in hand. Jack Carson had a face like a cement wall, if walls had intense eyes. He had about the same sense of humor, too. Jack stared at the chairs halfway down from the speakers' table. I followed his line of vision to see his wife, Aileen, sandwiched between Bill Hardy and Shorty Cally.

Bill and Shorty were always on the outs, but Aileen's wide smile seemed to bring them together. Aileen was one of those cheerful types, ready with a tease. She freely handed out hugs and pats. Slightly overweight, with unremarkable hair or facial features, she had that attraction that drew friends like flies to a carcass. She was the flip side of dour Jack, but I couldn't credit Louise's speculation that she'd been carrying on with Eldon.

Clete started talking before the stragglers found their seats and the conversations drifted to murmurs. “The primary's in two weeks, and along with the state ballot, we've got some seats to fill here in Grand County. Clerk of the District Court Ethel Bender is running unopposed for her eighth term. So, obviously, we won't be debating that. One commissioner seat is open, and we have four candidates. Three school board seats are up, and eight folks tossed their hats into that tiger cage.” A few people laughed. “That will be the last debate of the night so we don't have to round you back up when you spill out the doors for your brawls.” More chuckles. School board fights sometimes caused feuds that lasted for generations.

“We're starting the agenda with the race for Grand County sheriff. As you're all aware, there was a shooting last night at the Bar J. We lost one of our finest citizens, Eldon Edwards, and we all grieve for his family.” He paused for respect. “Sheriff Ted Conner was injured in the incident. So Kate here, his wife”—as if anyone didn't know—“will be sitting in for him.”

He waited for a smattering of applause. “Running against Sheriff Conner is Rich Hamner.” More noncommittal clapping. “We'll begin by having the candidates introduce theirselves and say a little about their qualifications for the job.”

Rich nattered on about how the county needed fresh blood, a point he made every election. This time he added a new plank about not being related to half the people of the county. I'm sure that was inspired by me sitting next to him. Rich might be an unambitious cowboy with marginal hygiene and one year of junior college but, surprisingly, those experiences did not make him a great speaker. He mumbled and stumbled and sprinkled it all with so many “ums” that if they'd been salt we'd all have died of stroke.

Qualifying to run for a Nebraska county sheriff wasn't difficult. Basically, you had to win the votes. After that, you had one year to complete and pass a twelve-week course at the police academy in Grand Island. Until being certified, a sheriff couldn't perform anything official, so the state patrol and neighboring county law enforcement filled in. It's fortunate the good people of Nebraska are so law-abiding.

When my turn came I sat up straight and pretended Ted loved me exclusively. I addressed Ted's experience, mentioned that, due to his efforts at the high school, teen drunk driving had been virtually eliminated on prom and graduation nights. I concluded with Ted's dedication to the people of Grand County, as demonstrated by him taking a bullet in the line of duty.

Dahlia and Sid watched me from directly behind my kin. Violet, Rose, and their husbands filled out the row. Dahlia nodded with every point I made on Ted's behalf.

Clete opened up the floor for questions, and hands shot up.

“What do you know about what happened at the Bar J?”

This was a perfect opening. I needed to show Ted's assertive action while I studied the audience to gather clues about who killed Eldon, to clear Carly of suspicion. “Not much. But Ted is keeping abreast of the investigation from his hospital room.”

More hands popped up and Clete pointed. Yes, I answered, the shooting happened at the main house. Yes, Milo Ferguson from Choker County was handling the investigation. No, there hadn't been any arrests. Yes, Ted responded quickly. Thank goodness Grand County rescue arrived so fast, and yes, we're all thankful for the expertise of Harold Graham and Eunice Fleenor, since they surely saved Ted's life.

Aileen dropped her head, and her shoulders heaved. Both Bill and Shorty put a hand on her back, double-teaming the sympathy. Jack scowled, and I was sure his Pepsi can dented under his clenched fingers.

I answered the onslaught for ten minutes while poor Rich's spine softened and his knees thrust farther under the table as he slouched deeper into his chair.

Nat and Rope sat in the last row. It surprised me they had attended the debate, because they stuck close to home most of the time, but it worked out well for me. I'd try to talk to Nat. If she had the savvy Twyla suggested, she might know if someone had a grudge against Eldon. As the questions about Eldon droned on, Rope and Nat looked more and more uneasy.

Clete called on Dahlia's older sister, Rose. The three Flower sisters were notoriously competitive. They spent every holiday together, socialized on Saturday nights, joined the same clubs and church, and even vacationed together. My theory is they believed the old adage about keeping your enemies close.

Rose, the spitting image of Dahlia, if Dahlia gained twenty pounds and grew another chin, leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. “The story I heard is that Ted charged into Eldon's house, intending to save the old man. My question for him, and you, since you're his proxy, is this: As a trained officer of the law, isn't it foolish to run headlong into a dangerous situation? I mean, folks are making him out to be some kind of hero, but it just seems plain stupid to me. And he's lucky to still be alive, let alone a cripple.”

A universal gasp rose from the crowd. Dahlia glared at Rose.

I'd been careful to keep to the line that Ted was recovering. Rose had succeeded in her probable goals of (1) showing she was on the inside with all the information, and (2) getting in a stab at one of the favored grandchildren.

The Foxes may not always be polite to one another, but by God we stick together against outsiders. “Ted's not a cripple,” I said. “The bullet caused some swelling in his spine, but Doc Kennedy thinks he'll be fine.” Might be a lie, might not be. I'll settle that with the Almighty on Judgment Day. “As to Ted's training, he attended the twelve-week law enforcement course in Grand Island when he was elected the first time, eight years ago.” See how I cleverly inserted his experience in there? “He returns every year for a refresher. Since we weren't at the Bar J, it doesn't seem productive to second-guess his informed choices, does it?”

Clete called on May Keller. She stood from somewhere in the back. “If elected sheriff, what do you propose to do about Glenn Baxter buying up all the ranches around here?”

The room went quiet.

Clete addressed Rich. “Since Kate's been fielding most of the questions so far, why don't we give you a chance to speak?”

The look of panic in Rich's eyes made me wonder if we'd need to get Harold and Eunice up here for resuscitation. He stammered. “Well, I. Um. You know. It's a bad deal. But some folks. Well, the economy and all. They need. We all need. I think, you know. I heard he's offering good money. But, then. You know. The big ranches, they kind of need to keep going so that people, you know, have a place to work. Even though they don't pay a fair wage for the work the hired men do.”

Rich stopped talking, apparently believing he'd answered May's concerns.

Clete raised his eyebrows, inviting me to speak.

Glad to respond to something besides Eldon's murder and Ted's condition, I relaxed. “Well, May. We might all have opinions about whether it's a good idea to create a buffalo commons or not. But we're a land of laws. The sheriff's job is to uphold the law. If a citizen wants to sell land he owns, and there's no problem with fraud or deceit, there's no call for the sheriff to interfere.”

Several people nodded. Mom winked at me. Dad lifted his beer bottle. I glanced at the back row. Rope sat alone. Maybe Nat couldn't take the conflict. I'd bet she was hiding in Rope's pickup.

May, her voice like a bow across a loose fiddle string, shouted, “That's bullshit! Pardon my French.” Her lack of decorum didn't faze me. I allowed leeway for her oxygen-deprived brain.

Bill Hardy jumped up. “If Glenn Baxter succeeds in buying out these ranchers and they turn this place into buffalo common, those burly bastards will tear through the fences. Us little guys will end up with trampled pastures and cattle strung from here to eternity. We can't afford to hire the help it'd take to keep up with that rodeo.”

“Yeah.” Shorty Cally pointed his finger at Bill, nearly poking Aileen in the eye. “But you can't tell a person what they can or can't sell, if they own it.”

Clete held up his hand. “Let's all just save the fighting until the school board debate.”

This issue trumped even Eldon's murder. I studied the audience for guilty faces.

Bill Hardy paid no attention to Clete. “When all's said and done, I think Milo's gonna find out Eldon was shot on account of him getting ready to take the buyout.”

May's violin screech rose higher. “Milo Ferguson don't know his butt from a hole in the ground if he figures Eldon was gonna sell. No one shot Eldon on account of land. There's reasons besides real estate to shoot a body.”

That's the kind of remark that made the likes of Ted and Louise suspect May. I didn't put her on the list, though. She'd never be able to climb the stairs to Eldon's office.

Dwayne and Kasey Weber, a couple in their late thirties and relative newcomers to Hodgekiss, seemed to agree with May. Dwayne even said, “Yeah, Eldon wasn't the great guy people made him out to be.”

“Tighter than a tick,” Shorty Cally said.

“Wouldn't walk across the street to save a drowning cat.” Bill Hardy agreed with Shorty, maybe for the first time.

Aileen patted both men on their arms. “That's not true. He was a saint. Helped more folks than anyone will ever know.”

Even from across the room I could see crimson slashes flare on Jack's cheeks. It looked like jealousy to me, but was it because Aileen had touched Bill and Shorty or because she had defended her lover?

Kasey and Dwayne Weber turned to each other with irritated expressions. Kasey rolled her eyes and Dwayne sneered. He might have mumbled “Asshole” to Kasey, but I'm not the best lip-reader of cowboys who don't enunciate well.

A group of older women in the front row, to my right, leaned forward over their knees and drew their heads together. I was sure I heard Carly's name whispered, then all four of their heads popped up and they studied me. Damn it. Gossip and suspicion were creeping.