The Bird Saviors (24 page)
    Like I said, I'll have a talk with her.
    After Hiram Page drives off, Ruby hears Lord God approach. Lila has fallen asleep with her sippy cup in her hands, her lips loose, her belly full. Ruby lies beside her on the bed, one arm bent with Lila in the crook of her elbow. Lord God comes into the room slowly and smiles down at both of them. He jerks his head in the direction of the road and says, That man's a piece of work, isn't he?
    Ruby rolls her eyes. I felt like hitting him.
    Lord God sighs. I held my tongue. He's a rich man and I don't want us to be making enemies.
    I know, Papa.
    If I were half the man I used to be I'd kick him down the steps. But how could I tell the truth? How could I tell him no fool is going to marry my daughter? Lord God shakes his head. Or ever see her again, for that matter.
    Oh, Papa. After a moment, she blinks tears from her eyelashes. I'm glad you think that.
    Ruby, Ruby. Lord God stands in the doorway, a band of late- afternoon light stretched across his pants legs, dust motes floating like atoms. I only want what's best for you two.
    I know. Ruby smiles at him and he looks away, as if he can't take the moment. Outside the window behind him a flock of Grackles clatters about the roof of the faded woodshed. Ruby wonders what Ward is doing right now, if he's going to call her later. She wants him to. She'll have to tell him about Hiram's visit. Ward knows her father is trying to marry her off. Maybe if he hears what Lord God did, he might respect him more. She looks up from these thoughts and there he is, her father, still standing in the doorway.
    I'm sorry, he says. I had a vision from the Lord that you should be married to a good man. I thought that might be him. I was mistaken.
    Thank you, Daddy.
    Lord God's face is penitent. He gazes at Lila. I envy the way she can nap. So peaceful and serene. She hasn't a care in the world, has she?
    Not yet.
    I'm going to town soon. You make a list of things you need at the supermarket and I'll take care of it.
    We're about out of diapers.
    She goes through those things, doesn't she?
    Ruby nods. She's growing so fast, too. I think we need to get the next size up.
    Lord God reaches out and touches Ruby's cheek. Well, you just tell me what to do, I'll do it.
R u b y  s a y s  s h e can't make it and ward says he understands.
    Really. It's okay, he adds.
    I want to go, but Lila has a fever and an ear infection, I think. St. Mary's has a free clinic that you can go in the afternoon and it's first come, first served. We're headed there in half an hour. I think she needs some antibiotics.
    Do you need a ride? I'll be glad to give you one.
    No, Papa offered to take me, and he'd be hurt if I said no. He's already jealous of you as it is. I don't need to cause more trouble there.
    Ward can hear crying in the background. Okay, he says. Well, I guess I'd better let you go.
    I miss you, whispers Ruby.
    I miss you too. I'm not going to be able to get any work done without you.
    You better.
The wind has picked up by the time Ward crosses the prairie west of Lake Pueblo, a flock of geese marking an uneven vee in the gray sky. He can see for miles around and not another soul is in sight. Jets scar the sky with white vapor trails. Now and then the wind blows the sound of trucks off the highway to the south. He cuts through the rabbit bush and sage until he reaches a canyon that drops fifty feet, with a dry wash in the center. Cliff Swallows scatter as he nears the edge. He opens a collapsible deer blind, colored in brown- and- gray camouflage pattern. It's a simple thing, with shock- corded aluminum poles that snap together and fit into nylon sleeves of the blind's shell, popping it into a cone- shaped little hut. Tent stakes secure it to the rocky shelf of cliff face he's chosen as the blind location.
    Once he has it set up, he sits inside and watches the Great Horned Owl nesting site across the canyon. He watches for two hours, his lower back aching from the awkward squatting position he must remain in to see out the window. The nylon covering of the blind pops and luffs in the wind, and Ward finds himself thinking of Ruby, wondering if he should call her later, wondering if he could get her to sneak away tomorrow night. But she's never been out at night with him and would probably think him crazy, with her baby girl's ear infection and her biblical father stomping across the floor with his peg leg and Book of Mormon nonsense.
    He finds himself passively watching a flock of White- Crowned Sparrows, surprised to see them on the plateau. Cliff Swallows swoop in and out of cone- shaped mud nests in the canyon walls. A pair of Mountain Bluebirds perches in the branches of a cottonwood below.
    He forgets to count any of them. He tries to recall the exact time span since his wife and daughter died, two years, ten months . . . eleven days? Or is it ten months, eight days?
He stares dully through his binoculars, wondering if Ruby
thinks he's too old for her. There's twelve years' difference, which isn't much if you think about it, really. It's not like he's old enough to be her father. But still, she's young enough to have the world before her, and sometimes he feels he's set in his station of life. He's a defined person. True, when she was eight, he was a sophomore in college. But that's comparing apples and oranges, isn't it? He's older and wiser, isn't he? Older, yes, but he's not so sure about wiser.
    In late afternoon he watches as a trio of illegals passes by on the path of the canyon below, carrying
bolsas
and bottles of water. The cool taste of night is coming on by the time he stands and stretches. His leg has fallen asleep and tingles when he climbs off the ledge where he pinned the deer blind. He hobbles homeward across the prairie plateau, a solitary figure in an immense landscape, mountains to the west and the smokestacks of a coal- burning power plant to the east, the other side of Pueblo. Home to his empty motel room, to the shouts and clutter of the parking lot, the wailing of sirens that marks the city's heartbeat.
bolsas
and bottles of water. The cool taste of night is coming on by the time he stands and stretches. His leg has fallen asleep and tingles when he climbs off the ledge where he pinned the deer blind. He hobbles homeward across the prairie plateau, a solitary figure in an immense landscape, mountains to the west and the smokestacks of a coal- burning power plant to the east, the other side of Pueblo. Home to his empty motel room, to the shouts and clutter of the parking lot, the wailing of sirens that marks the city's heartbeat.
J a c k  B r o w n  e n t e r s  HP Pawns with a hangdog look. Page's witless nephew Ezra is slumped over the gun counter reading a magazine. When he sees Jack Brown he says, 'S'up, dog, and gives him a fist bump.
    It's a sunny morning, 90 degrees outside, Jack Brown already sweating. Hiram tells Ezra to go make himself useful. I think our kinfolk here has some money for me, he adds.
    Jack Brown tells Hiram it's been a bad time. He says he's sorry. He missed last month and doesn't have this payment either, but he thinks he can get some cash in a week. I've got a deck job coming up, and it should be a big one.
    A deck job?
    Yessir. Some rich guy is getting me to build him a deck off his house in the foothills, out toward Penrose. It's a sweet place, and the deck he has in mind will cost a pretty penny.
    Hiram nods. He's wearing a starched white shirt and turquoise bolo tie, his white hair combed back, an expensive watch on his wrist.
    I have a business proposition for you. Page stares at Jack Brown with a shrewd look, as if he's about to name the price of an acre of land. You do me a favor and I'll forget these two lapses. Plus I'll knock five thousand dollars off your debt.
    A favor?
    A favor.
    A five- thousand- dollar favor? Brown grins. Whatever it is, it must be either a lot of work or somewhat the other side of legal.
    Hiram Page raises his eyebrows and purses his lips. It might be both. But that doesn't change the proposition. You can of course turn it down.
    You're damn right I can.
    All you have to do is come up with the twelve thousand four hundred eighteen dollars left on your note by next Monday. Plus the ring, of course. That's all.
    I got two years left.
    Read the contract, cousin. You miss one payment, the terms change. As of today, you're missing a second payment, correct?
    Jack Brown rubs his neck and hisses through his teeth. What are you, the devil?
    Hiram Page makes a finger pistol and points it at Brown, who can see Ezra in the caged- in office grinning at him. There you are mistaken, says Hiram. Read Joseph Conrad. He once said, The belief in a supernatural source of evil is not necessary. Men are quite capable of every wickedness.
    You're telling me, says Brown.
    Yes, I am telling you what you already sense. Conrad was a Pole but a smart one. Me, I'm not wicked. I'm just a businessman. Perhaps one with more acumen than most. I hope.
    What's this favor?
    Ah, there's the rub. Hiram Page walks over to the glass pane of his door facing North Avenue. He's quiet for a moment, then says, Notice how many Mexicans are coming up from the south and worming their way into Pueblo?
    Sure. Now and then I do. Most times I ignore 'em. Shit, this town's half Mexican to begin with. What's a few more or less?
    I generally don't appreciate this sociological development. In these dire economic times, they're driving down real estate values, which isn't good if you own anything. Hiram makes an expansive wave with one hand, indicating the shop, still looking out the door. And I do.
    So what is it? You want me to rat out some illegals?
    Hiram Page cocks his head to one side and slides a finger down the frame of the large glass pane inset into his front door. He looks at the dust on his finger and shakes his head. He turns to Jack Brown and says, No, nothing of the sort. What I want you to do is relocate a child. He nods as if to show Brown that he has heard correctly. Painlessly, he adds. She can't be harmed. But that's what I want you to do.
    Relocate?
    That's one way to put it. Her family must not know of it.
    I'm no choir boy, but shit. I've never kidnapped no children and I'm not about to start now.
    You took that ex- sweetheart of yours against her will, did you not?
    That was different. Others did that. Me? Mainly I tried to see none of them harmed her.
    You are guilty nonetheless. It's only different in that she's of greater age.
    Well, that's different.
    You have principles, is that what you're telling me?
    Yes, goddamnit. That's what I'm telling you.
    I see. Perhaps those principles are malleable. As they say, every harlot was a virgin once.
    I'm no harlot and no virgin either.
    True. I'm guessing you're somewhere between. But for five thousand dollars, perhaps just this once? Hiram Page smiles. Adaptation is one of the finer human talents.
    Jack Brown shakes his head. You must be crazy.
    He gives a curt wave with one hand and walks toward the door. Before it shuts Hiram Page calls out, Suit yourself. You just drop that truck off by five o'clock, you hear? That's a good vehicle. I'll be glad to have it back.
. . .
Jack Brown tries to reach Hiram on the phone for a talk, but he won't take the call. He returns two days later and is made to wait almost an hour before his cousin appears. He kills time in the caged- in back office, by the video monitors, Ezra complaining to him about how boring the job is, how there's nothing to do. When Hiram arrives they both hop up and look busy. Brown leans against the pawnshop counter until finally Hiram comes to him and asks, Are you here to see me?
    Let me get this straight, whispers Brown. You're saying she won't be hurt? No way I can hurt a baby, no matter how much money you pay me.
    You think I'd hurt a child? She'll be better off in the long run. You'll be in her presence for no more than a half hour, then drop her off in the care of a good woman. For a day she'll be treated like a princess, then returned to her mother.
    What's the story here?
    Not your concern, says Hiram. Suffice it to say that it's in my personal interest to relocate this child and see her reunited with her mother in a timely fashion.
    You wouldn't be setting me up for something, would you?
    Jack? Would I do that to family?
    Jesus H. Christ. Kidnapping is a felony. I know that.
    You're my relation. This is no setup.
    I've heard that people never get away with kidnappings.
    That's because they ask for ransom. We won't. All you'll do is
take the child and drop her off where I tell you to. For you? End of story.
    And nobody will ever hear tell of this?
    Trust me. It will be our little secret. I'll have more to lose than you.
    Jack Brown shakes his head and walks out the door, his hat in hand, jingling the bell. In a minute he returns and puts his cowboy hat in place. What if, he starts, then pauses, breathing hard. What if we make it the whole shebang? All I owe you? I do this and we're square?
    What if ? repeats Hiram. I don't know. You tell me.
    If I do this for you, we're even. I get the title for the truck, free and clear.
    Hiram nods. That could be arranged.
    They shake hands awkwardly, Brown making a face, as if he's sold his soul and now thinks he should have gotten a better price. After Brown departs, Ezra asks if he can leave early. He has some errands to run. That Cousin Jack is a goofy sumbitch, isn't he?
    Hiram nods and tells his nephew yes, he can leave early. Just don't make it a habit, he adds.
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