Two Sides of the Same Coin (58 page)

“Shit. I bet the only reason he didn’t try somethin’ is that everyone was here.”

“You’re gonna call the sheriff, ain’t ya, Jeff?”

“Yeah, I am, Smitty, thanks. You wanna tell the folks in the bunkhouse not to track around and to step in your original tracks if they come to the house? I want the tracks clear for the sheriff.”

“Sure thing, Jeff.” I walked down to the driveway. A vehicle had come up in the night, but it seemed that when it left most of the detail in the tracks was obliterated. Snow had fallen on top of the tracks, further masking any tread. I headed back inside followed by Mike. Smitty came in a few minutes later followed by José. I picked up the phone and dialed the sheriff. I got an answering machine both at his office and his cell phone. I reckoned he was talking with Mark. The girls were pretty upset to hear we’d had a visitor. Sandy asked about three times if I was sure I had set the alarm. I kept reassuring her. José told her he’d had to turn it off to let Smitty in.

“It’s no good worryin’ ourselves here. I’m sure the sheriff will have some good leads this mornin’, and this will be cleared up soon. Now, those flapjacks smell great. Let’s eat.”

“Sandy, Smitty, these are great. Thanks!” Mike smiled at them, but his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Jeff, Mike, do you want to come and stay at my apartment in Wenatchee until this is over? You are very welcome.” Maria looked very concerned also. After a second, she started sobbing and said, “I don’t want to lose the two of you the way I lost Pedro.”

I pulled her into a hug as I spoke to her. “We really appreciate that, Maria, but I’m not gonna run like a scared rabbit. We got Mike, me, Smitty, José, and Josh here, and Jeanette will be here soon too. We’ll be fine, better than that sorry son of a bitch once I catch ’im.” Sandy was uncharacteristically quiet. She set a plate of pancakes and sausages on the table for me and then hugged me. I realized she was sobbing into my chest.

“Jeff, you gotta be all right. I couldn’t stand it if somethin’ happened to you. You’re like my brother. Mike too.”

“Nothin’s gonna happen to me or Mike.”

We sat down to a somber breakfast. Nobody wanted to chat, so talk consisted mostly of please pass this, or that is good, or more coffee anybody. Finally, we finished breakfast. Maria insisted on cleaning up, helped by José.

“Hey, everybody!” They all looked up at me. “We’re sittin’ around here actin’ like we’re goin’ to a funeral. There’s been too many funerals lately. We’re gonna be all right. If there’s anything we can do, it’s cheer up and support each other to get through this. So let’s cowboy up and enjoy each other’s company.”

“Well said, Jeff! We’re here for you.” Sandy, José, and Maria nodded at Smitty’s words.

“Let’s not let that sorry son of a bitch get us down then.” Everyone clapped and cheered at that.

Mike and I decided to go into town and see the sheriff. I had to deliver my two newest sculptures to the exhibit also. We drove to town, followed by the girls. The roads weren’t too bad. It looked like the snowplow had gone through this morning. The valley lives by tourism, so the roads are usually kept pretty clear. José had gotten out the pickup with the snowplow in front of it and was plowing the access road to the ranch. We got into town and parked right in front of the sheriff’s office. He was in his office and looked real tired and upset. For a second, I wondered if he’d gotten hurt hunting yesterday.

“Mornin’, boys, grab a cup of coffee in the back, and take a seat.” Once we were settled down, he looked at us.

“I went over to Mark’s house this morning. I thought we’d have a friendly chat, but I was too late.”

“He’s gone?” I reckoned he must’ve figured out we were on to him.

“You might say that. I got there, and his truck was loaded up. It looked like he was on his way to wherever. His front door was open, so I went in. I reckoned he was just about to leave. He was there. Dead in the front room with two shots to his chest. There was no sign of defense wounds, so he knew whoever killed him. Same boot tracks in the snow that we saw in the rustlers’ camp.”

“Sheriff, those same tracks were in the snow outside our house this morning. They walked around the house, up to the door, and looked in the windows. I reckon the only reason he didn’t try somethin’ is too many people around.” The sheriff paled at this. I could tell he was thinking Sandy was there.

“We got some prints from Mark’s that didn’t belong to him. I hope that will give us a break in the case.”

“Us, too, sir.” We stayed there, and the sheriff interviewed us about last night and finding the tracks in the morning. After a couple of hours, we were able to go. We stopped by the truck on our way to the co-op and got out the two sculptures I’d brought. I felt bad about Mark. He seemed like a nice guy, but it was probable that he was involved with the rustling. The question I asked myself was did he try to leave because he thought we had caught on to him, or because he was in over his head? I reckoned we’d never know. We walked across the street to the co-op.

“Jeff! Mike!” Mary Grace was on us with her big smotherin’ hugs.

“
Washington Highways
is sending someone to look at the exhibit here and cover Christmas at the End of the Road! This will be such great publicity for you boys! And two new sculptures! These are both great!”

“The one sculpture, Mary Grace, the one titled ‘Friends’ isn’t for sale, just for exhibit.”

“I can see why; it looks exactly like you two. Where are my manners, let me get you some coffee.” She bustled in the back as Mike and I smiled at her energy.

She reappeared a few minutes later with two big mugs of coffee.

“Thanks, Mary Grace.”

“Much obliged, Mary Grace.”

“I am so glad you stopped by. I had called Ryan and Sandy. Sandy’s gotten in touch with Smitty, José, and Maria. They are all on their way here to take pictures. I even have Santa caps for you all.”

“No time like the present, eh Mike?”

“That’s right.” We chatted with Mary Grace, and she asked if on weekends we could spend a couple of hours on Saturday and a couple on Sunday in the co-op to talk to visitors, answer questions, and that sort of thing. We were both happy to do so. After Thanksgiving, we’d be in town anyway on weekends for the Christmas at the End of the Road festival, as we were caroling in it. Just then Sandy and Maria came in followed by Smitty and José. Sandy and José had their guitars. Mary Grace handed out the Santa hats. We all had cowboy hats, so we put the caps on the crowns. We headed outside. Mary Grace had someone put up a couple of strings of lights on the co-op and the shops around it.

“Okay, how about you really sing; it will look more realistic in the pictures.” Sandy looked at José, and they began to play “Silent Night”; Mike, Maria, Smitty, and I started singing. We sang that, “The Holly and the Ivy,” and “Away in a Manger.” Then Maria and I sang a Spanish carol, “Los Peces en el Rio” and “Two-Step Around the Christmas Tree.” Mike and I sang “Christmas for Cowboys,” then all four of us sang “Santa Got Lost in Texas.” Ryan must have taken about forty pictures. Toward the end of the picture session, Sandy threw a snowball at Smitty. That was all it took for us to have a snowball fight on Main Street. We weren’t throwing hard, and it was a lot of fun. It sure helped to dispel the air of hopelessness that had affected us earlier this morning. After about forty-five minutes, we were all covered liberally with snow. Ryan was taking pictures as we threw snowballs, and we all still had Santa caps over our cowboy hats. We decided to go to the cantina for a bite to eat afterwards. Mary Grace even joined us.

Over beer and nachos in the cantina, she spoke up. “Jeff, Mike, I did a tarot reading for the two of you last night.”

“I hope you saw that we’re both gonna be alive for the New Year.”

“I saw that this whole thing should be resolved in a day or two at the most. Hidden issues will come to light, and although there will be some issues and difficulties and a trying time, you both will come through it okay.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Mary Grace.”

“Me too. Nobody else is gonna get hurt, will they?” Mike gazed at her.

“The person at the bottom of this will be punished. I wouldn’t want to be in their shoes.” Sandy, Maria, and José were all really interested in Mary Grace’s tarot and Wicca. They were asking a lot of questions. I really hoped that there was something to her tarot reading because it would be so good to have this behind us. In all honesty, I couldn’t say I wasn’t worried.

José turned to me. “Hey, boss, Smitty, Josh, and I were talking. We want to take turns standing guard and watching the house from the bunkhouse.” Smitty nodded.

“You guys don’t have to do that.”

“We know that, Jeff; we want to.” José nodded as Smitty spoke.

“Much obliged.”

“You are very welcome, boss. We are your friends, yours and Mike’s.”

“Thanks, guys.” Mike’s voice was husky. The waitress brought another two pitchers of beer and another plate of nachos. Mike saw they had calamari and asked for two orders.

“I thought you didn’t like squid, Mike?” Sandy had that teasing twinkle in her eye.

“I didn’t think I would, but I tried it, and I liked it. You’d think I was carrying on like a city boy in front of a plate of mountain oysters the way you talk about it.”

“You were.”

“I was not.”

Just then I noticed we all still had our Santa caps on. I started laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Sandy had a real puzzled look on her face. I reached up and pulled the Santa hat off my cowboy hat. Everybody did the same and started laughing.

We finished off the nachos and beer. It had been a fun day. I’d spent a good part of it with the folks who were some of the best friends anyone could ever have. The snowball fight was fun. I was also happy Mary Grace had joined us for the beer and nachos. After the Wicca ceremony, I realized why folks called her the town witch. I understood her thoughts about the new folks in the valley and the folks whose families had been here a while. Mary Grace had been in Winslett about ten years. She still taught art at the school. The kids accepted her unconditionally, but a lot of the older folks thought of her as an outsider. It was very clear why she wanted the show to be a success with the exhibit from a local boy.

We ordered another pitcher and enjoyed one another’s company. All too soon it was time to head home. As we were driving and coming up to the west side of town, I got an idea. I pulled in to the barn parking lot where we had the Halloween party a couple of nights ago. I took the broom I used for clearing snow off the truck and a flashlight. The wind had cleared most of the snow from the front of the barn and the walk, and I just needed to sweep a bit. I let the flashlight shine down. Mike had followed me without saying a word, but now he spoke up.

“What’s up, Jeff?”

“Remember Mark said he saw the boot from the rustler’s camp here. Now I ain’t sure if he was lyin’ or not or if the sheriff even knows about him sayin’ that.”

After sweeping, I shone the flashlight around. The mud was frozen hard. There in it, close to the walk, was a single boot track. The sole was distinctive like an old tire, and the heel showed wear as if the wearer were pigeon toed. I looked at Mike.

“I’ll be damned. That sorry son of a bitch was tellin’ the truth.”

“Think that this will bring us any closer to findin’ the murderin’ asshole behind this?”

“I dunno, Mike. I’m gonna call the sheriff.” Somethin’ started nagging the back of my mind, but for the life of me I couldn’t think of what it was I should be remembering. I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Sheriff Johnston. When he answered, we exchanged pleasantries.

“Sheriff, did Mark ever tell you that whoever is behind this was at the Halloween party on Friday?”

“No. How do you know that? Did he tell you?”

“Indirectly he did. He mentioned he saw the boot track with the distinctive tread and worn heel in the mud next to the door.”

“I’ll be damned. We’ll have to see if we can get a list of everyone who was there. It’s a man’s boot, so that’ll eliminate about two thirds of the guests, if there is a list.”

“Can’t hurt to check, can it, sir?”

“Not at all; this is the most solid thing we have to narrow it down.”

“Well, sir, we got our fingers crossed. Sheriff, why do you reckon Mark would tell us about the track?”

“Only thing I can think of is that if you did suspect him, it would divert suspicion.”

“I reckon that makes sense. I wonder if he was tryin’ to freak us out, kinda like we’re bein’ watched all the time.”

“That could be it also, Jeff. Who knows; with Mark dead, we sure aren’t going to be able to question him.”

“Mike and I’ve been pretty lucky so far. I hope our luck holds.”

“I do too, son. You boys head on home and set the alarm. Sandy tells me your stockmen are standing lookout.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I just hope they’re not needed.”

“Me too, Sheriff.”

We ended the call. Mike and I got back in the truck and drove home. We got there, set the alarm, and watched TV for an hour or so, and then had some of the pecan pie Rick gave us. We decided to watch a movie, and I pulled one out of my collection of gay movies. It was called
The M.O. of M.I.
short for the Modus Operandi of Male Intimacy. It’s a good movie, and you don’t really figure out the plot until the very end. It has one of those twists in plot, which keeps you thinking. We ended up talking about the movie and the plot for quite a while. It had been a fun and a full day.

“C’mon, buddy, let’s go upstairs.”

We began to neck and undressed each other. I could taste the nachos on him. I was running my hands over his chest, arms, back, and butt. I just wanted to touch every inch of him. He was doing the same to me. His touch felt good. By now, he’d come to know what I liked and did it adding here and there from his imagination. We really took our time. There was urgency, but also a slow sweetness in our joining this evening. We had become familiar enough with one another to know how to push each other’s buttons in a very good way. We spent a lot of time just looking at one another and smiling.