Between the Living and the Dead (6 page)

Steadman stopped the truck at an angle to the shopping cart, got out, and came around to the back of the trailer. He was a tall, skinny man, dressed in jeans and a Western shirt. He wore a gray Western hat. He opened the gate and pulled out a ramp from beneath the trailer.

When the bull heard the gate being opened, it looked around again. This time it didn't like what it saw. It shook its head, scattering something that looked to Rhodes like mini wheat squares, and snorted. It moved forward, shoving the cart aside, and jerking the rope.

The men all dug in their heels, but it didn't do any good. The bull pulled them right along, and half of them fell down, letting go of the rope as they did so and allowing the bull to move even faster. It was headed toward the motor homes, some of the occupants of which had come out to watch the fun. When they saw the bull heading in their direction, they all started to go back inside except for one small boy wearing a T-shirt and shorts. He must have liked the bull, because he started to run toward it. A woman turned back from the motor home and yelled at him. The bull snorted and lowered its head.

Rhodes and Boyd were still hanging on to the rope, but they were the only ones. They ran to keep up with the bull, but they couldn't stop it.

Rhodes knew he had to do something. He'd been to the Clearview summer rodeo every year for a long time, and one of the events that he remembered was the bulldogging. A horseback rider would chase a steer, a steer much smaller than the bull, lean out of the saddle, grab the bull's horns, and come out of the saddle to wrestle it to the ground.

Wrestling the bull to the ground was out of the question, but Rhodes thought he might at least be able to get its attention and distract it from the child, who now appeared frozen in place. His mouth was open, and maybe he was screaming. Rhodes couldn't hear him because of the roaring of his own blood in his ears.

Rhodes released the rope, ran forward, and took the bull by the horns.

 

Chapter 5

Twisting the head of a steer when you're coming off a horse isn't easy. Twisting a bull's head when you're running alongside of it is next to impossible, or at least it was for Rhodes. The bull snorted and flipped its head, and Rhodes felt himself being lifted off the ground. He somehow hung on and kept twisting. The bull didn't fall. It didn't stumble. It didn't even slow down. It did, however, turn slightly to the left, which was the side Rhodes was hanging on to.

Encouraged, Rhodes tried to dig in his heels. He couldn't, but the bull did turn a bit more to the left.

Rhodes wondered if Alton Boyd was still hanging on to the rope. He didn't dare look back, and for that matter he couldn't really see what was ahead of him. Everything was pretty much a blur at the moment.

After a couple of seconds Rhodes realized that someone was on the right side of the bull, running along and flapping a cowboy hat at it. Steadman, Rhodes thought. He was trying to help Rhodes turn the bull away from the mobile homes, and they were succeeding.

The bull sped up, and Rhodes felt his feet skidding along the ground. He was no longer doing much to turn the bull. He was just hanging on for the ride. He thought about letting go, but he knew that wouldn't be a good idea. Hanging on to the bull was bound to be better than bouncing off an asphalt parking lot.

Steadman kept pace with the bull, swinging the hat. The bull flipped its head again as if trying to get rid of a particularly annoying insect. Rhodes felt his legs fly out almost parallel to the surface of the parking lot. He wondered what would happen if the bull just kept going like that battery-powered bunny in the TV commercials. Would the bull and Rhodes wind up in Mexico? Or maybe Canada, depending on the direction the bull took? Surely the bull would run down before that happened.

Rhodes saw something in front of them. He tried to focus. It was the trailer, and now he heard yelling on his left. Several of the bull's former pursuers were there, waving their arms and jumping around as if they were on a trampoline.

Rhodes thought at first that they wanted to warn him about something, but then it occurred to him that they were trying to guide the bull into the trailer. With Steadman on one side and the men on the other, they'd formed a sort of corridor. If Rhodes could guide the bull down the middle and keep him from running over anybody, it might even work.

Rhodes didn't like to think about what might happen once he and the bull got into the trailer, assuming that they would. The trailer was big enough to hold the bull, and there would be plenty of room for Rhodes, too, but not if the bull decided to crush him against the side.

Before Rhodes could think too much about that, it was too late for him to worry. The bull slowed, but not enough for Rhodes to take the chance of letting go, and then they were at the trailer. This was the critical moment. If the bull turned quickly, someone was going to get trampled, and if it didn't go straight into the trailer, Rhodes was going to get raked off by the side.

The bull didn't turn. It ran up the middle of the ramp and into the trailer, coming to an abrupt stop just in time to avoid smashing into the front of it. The bull stood there trembling, its hot hide quivering. Rhodes let go of the horns and scrambled as quickly as he could up the board sides of the trailer.

He flipped over the top and climbed down. He was drenched with sweat and doing a little trembling of his own, but he was all in one piece. Standing beside the trailer, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Only then did he hear the applause and cheers. He turned to look at the entrance to Walmart. It seemed as if all the employees and customers had come out to watch the fun, and they'd seen the chase and Rhodes being flung about by the bull. It must have seemed like a scene in a movie to them.

Alton Boyd came up, grabbed Rhodes's hand, and started to pump it.

“I never seen anything like it,” Boyd said. “You're a real hero, Sheriff, riskin' your own life to save that little kid. Sage Barton couldn't've done it any better.”

“All I did was get bounced around by a bull,” Rhodes said, “and don't bring Sage Barton into it.”

Sage Barton wasn't real. He was a character created by two women named Claudia and Jan, who'd been to a writing workshop in Blacklin County a few years back. They'd since written a series of very successful thrillers featuring Sage Barton, a character so daring, so dynamic, so unlike Rhodes that he didn't see how anybody could ever confuse the two. Recently Seepy Benton had started telling people that it was no coincidence that Sage Barton had the initials S. B. and that it was clear that it wasn't Rhodes but some other daring and dynamic Clearview resident who was the inspiration for the character.

“Old Sage's got nothing you ain't got,” Boyd told Rhodes, “that's all I got to say.”

“If there was any hero,” Rhodes said, “it was the woman with the shopping cart. She's the one who stopped the bull.”

Boyd looked toward the cart. “She's gonna have a hard time gettin' all that bull drool off her groceries. Maybe she can get a refund.”

Boyd moved away as Dr. Stanton came up.

“Thanks for the help, Sheriff,” Stanton said. “Steadman's bull really didn't want to get his booster shot. He got away from us before we had him penned. We'll have some extra help at the clinic when Steadman gets him back there.”

“I can send Alton Boyd along if you need him,” Rhodes said.

“He'll have to come along and get his rope back anyway,” Stanton said. “You were really good with that bull. I heard they were going to make a movie about Sage Barton. You ought to try out for the part.”

“I think the movie deal fell through,” Rhodes said, “and Sage Barton and I don't have anything in common.”

Stanton nodded to Jennifer Loam, who was headed in their direction. “Whatever you say, but if you change your mind, I think there'll be some great video to use as your screen test.”

Rhodes sighed as Stanton walked away. He had put out a hand to push himself away from the trailer when Jennifer Loam said, “Hold it right there, Sheriff.”

“What?” Rhodes asked.

“Some people want to thank you,” Jennifer told him.

A young woman and man walked up. A small boy walked between them, holding their hands.

“These are the Carrolls,” Jennifer said. “Elaine and Tom. Their son is Charlie.”

“Hi, Charlie,” Rhodes said.

“You saved our son, Sheriff,” Tom Carroll said. “We can't thank you enough.”

“He's right,” Elaine Carroll said. She let go of Charlie's hand and gave Rhodes a hug. “We'll never forget this. You're our hero.”

“Hero,” Charlie said. “Hero.”

“Just trying to stop the bull,” Rhodes said.

“It was much more than that,” Elaine said, stepping away. “A whole lot more. Our son could've been trampled if you hadn't grabbed that bull. I've never seen anything so brave.”

“Hero,” Charlie said.

Rhodes shifted his feet and looked to Jennifer to rescue him. She didn't, however, because she was too busy taking video. The Carrolls continued to thank him and eventually left. Rhodes tried to leave, too, but Jennifer stopped him.

“Just stand there for a second,” she said.

“Why?” Rhodes asked.

Jennifer bent over and located a small rock on the asphalt. She straightened and tossed it at the trailer. It smacked against one of the boards and bounced off.

“Smile, Sheriff,” she said.

Rhodes didn't smile. He turned and looked at the trailer, where the bull was glaring at him through the slatted boards. Rhodes turned back to Jennifer, who was working the camera again.

“I'm beginning to understand why so many law enforcement officers don't like video cameras,” Rhodes said.

Jennifer continued to video him as Steadman started his pickup and pulled the trailer out of the lot. People had returned to the store or gotten in their cars. The fun was over.

“I'm going back to the office now,” Rhodes said, as Jennifer lowered the camera.

“You are?”

“That's what I said.”

“I know what you said, but isn't there something else you need to do first?”

“What would that be?” Rhodes asked.

“Well,” Jennifer said, “there's the haunted house.”

“Who told you?” Rhodes asked. “Andy or Hack?”

“We journalists never reveal our sources.”

Rhodes thought about asking whether someone who had a Web site was a legitimate journalist, but he decided it wasn't worth starting an argument. Jennifer had been a fine reporter when she'd worked for the
Clearview Herald
, and she hadn't changed anything but the medium by which she delivered her stories.

“Anyway,” Jennifer continued, “I didn't hear it from either of them. I went by the jail this morning to check on last night's reports and read all about it.”

“Ruth's already done her report?”

Jennifer nodded. “It's a good one, too. Now tell me who killed Neil Foshee and I'll go write it up.”

“I don't know yet,” Rhodes said.

“But you will.”

“I will, but it might take a while.”

“You're going over there before you go anywhere else, aren't you?”

Rhodes admitted it.

“I'm going, too,” Jennifer said.

Rhodes didn't mind that she hadn't asked if she could go. She was free to do whatever she wanted as long as she didn't intrude on the crime scene.

“I'll see you there,” he said.

*   *   *

The old house looked even shabbier in the daylight. The paint was peeling, the roof needed to be replaced, and weeds covering the yard looked even worse in the daylight. The vines tangled in the wrought-iron fence were so thick in places that the fence seemed to have disappeared. Water from the previous night's rain still dripped off the trees and the eaves of the house. Andy's county car was parked in front, and Rhodes pulled in behind it. Jennifer stopped behind him.

They both got out of their cars, and Rhodes reminded her that she wasn't to go into the yard. “It's a crime scene now,” he said.

He pointed to the yellow tape that Ruth had put up all along the fence. It showed up well against all the green foliage. The tape also encircled the house itself, though of course it wouldn't stop anybody who wanted to sneak in.

“I'll stay out front here and take some pictures,” Jennifer said.

“Some video, too, I'm sure.”

“Naturally.”

Rhodes didn't have anything to say to that. He slipped under the tape and opened the gate, which gave off an unearthly shriek. Rhodes wondered if Seepy Benton would think the fence was possessed by a ghost. Rhodes hoped not. He went on through the opening into the yard, noticing that the sidewalk was not only overgrown with grass and weeds but was cracked and uneven. He and Ruth were lucky they hadn't fallen down last night. He didn't look back to see if Jennifer was taking video of him approaching the house. He was afraid he'd trip and embarrass himself, so he kept his eyes down.

Instead of going up on the porch, he went around to the back of the house. Rainwater that still clung to the taller weeds soaked the bottoms of his pants legs, but he ignored it. He found Andy Shelby bent over and looking at the tire tracks in the crushed weeds in the backyard. It was shady and cool there because of all the trees. Some of them had rotten limbs, but they all looked sturdy enough not to topple over for a while.

“Found any clues yet?” Rhodes asked.

The deputy was young and eager, and he looked so good in his Western hat that Rhodes felt a slight twinge of envy. In fact, Andy looked as good in the hat as Raylan Givens on
Justified,
which only made the twinge a little sharper.

Andy straightened. “Morning, Sheriff. I haven't found much. These tracks are so messed up that there must have been cars in here more often than just last night.”