The mayor gave her a puzzled look before riding off.
When Louise turned back to the crowd, Elliot was gone.
The parade continued on, bright splashes of color moving past Louise: a buckboard pulled by white horses, more covered wagons, women dressed as settlers walked by with their Adidas and Nikes peeking out from beneath long print dresses, Navajos in their ceremonial garb—one had forgotten to remove his watch—hawkers selling sparklers, cotton candy, and silver balloons.
Lots of strangers. The crowd made Louise uneasy.
Crowder Flats was 157 people eleven months and three weeks out of the year, and that was the way Louise liked it. Soon the festivities would be over, all the strangers gone. By tomorrow night Crowder Flats would be a ghost town again.
There were only a couple of events left: awarding first prize for the largest snake in the rattlesnake roundup—old Jebediah had been a snake handler—next was a reenactment of a stagecoach holdup. Nash, Boyce, and Kevin would be doing the driving. Ernesto, Jesus, and Manny would be the outlaws holding them up. That would be followed by a staged hanging of the culprits.
Then came the rodeo tonight. Bobby and Jesse would be competing in the bull riding. Everyone was talking about the event and the whole town would turn out to watch the two local boys go at it.
That is, if Bobby showed up. Louise had seen Jesse earlier, but where was Bobby?
A pockmarked man with an earring caught Louise's eye and she watched while he put his arms around a girl in black leather and a Harley T-shirt, running his hands under the material, cupping her breasts. Bikers. Hundreds of them. They called themselves the Legion of Death and they were camped at the outskirts of town. At night Louise could hear the roar of their bikes as they rode around their huge bonfire.
There was nothing anyone could do about them. All kinds of people showed up for the Frontier Days celebration.
Louise stared the biker girl's T-shirt, taking in the two smiling skeletons screwing on a black background. Right beneath a winking skull and crossbones were the words:
WARNING! SEX CAN BE HAZARDOUS TO YOUR HEALTH.
The two bikers saw Louise watching them. The man pulled his hands from beneath the girl's T-shirt, put them on the hood of a car and spread his legs as though he had been busted. The girl blew Louise a kiss. The rest of the bikers hooted. They weren't fooled by Louise's uniform—they knew she was no cop. Their laughter followed her when she walked away.
Louise fervently wished Frontier Days were over and she could get back to her normal job, dispatching.
Sheriff Stuart Johnson walked over and put his arm around her. "You doing okay, kiddo?"
"Can't we do something about the bikers?" Louise asked.
"Well, that wouldn't be very neighborly since this Frontier Days thing is all about freedom," the sheriff said. "Wouldn't be right to turn somebody away because personal hygiene isn't first on their list of priorities, now would it?" He winked.
Louise smiled, hugged him back. "I guess not, not when you put it that way."
"They just want to get to you, so don't let 'em."
"Thanks, I'm trying not to.," Louise looked into the baggy face of the old man, at the twinkling eyes buried in their pouches of fat, and tried to smile. "Sorry, Stuart, I'm not very good around people. I guess they can tell I'm nervous."
"You got to learn to smile, Louise. You have been the most serious girl I have ever known. Even when you were little." He hitched up his pants where they were sliding away from his ample girth. "You remember the first time you came into my office; you couldn't have been more than nine or ten?"
Louise shook her head no, began edging away.
"You were all out of breath, said you spotted one of the guys on the wanted posters in the post office. You wanted me to arrest him for armed robbery." Stuart began laughing. "I went with you and it turned out to be my nephew, Cotter."
"What are you saying, Stuart?" Louise felt her face turning red. Stuart had that tone in his voice that meant he was about to deliver one of his lectures. She braced herself.
"I'm saying I did some checking on your story about Leon Wilson. You know what I found?"
"Let me guess," Louise said, fighting back the sudden urge to cry, "the cops went to Leon's house and they didn't find anything."
"Not a damned thing."
"You think I'm mistaken about all this?" Her lower lip trembled and she bit down on it. Savagely.
Stuart was still smiling but the smile was slipping. "I don't know, Louise. If it had been you who seen Leon, I might put a lot more stock in the story."
"But since it was John, you don't believe it?"
"I'm not exactly saying I don't believe it." He gave her a little squeeze. "We both know they had to send John away for a while when he was a kid. He kept having all those crazy dreams about Billy Two Hats, kept saying Billy was a killer. That Billy was cutting up women with a knife. He damn near had me believing him for a while."
"That was a long time ago," Louise said.
"I know it was, but I never could put no faith in anything John said. Come to find out, he was a thief, stole Billy's pocket knife, and then made up that cock-and-bull story to cover his own ass. And I haven't forgotten about the time he held up that liquor store in Tucson." Stuart smiled and waved at someone in the parade. "I don't figure he's changed all that much since then."
"He was only nineteen and he didn't do the holdup. Rudy No Horses did. John didn't know what Rudy was going to do; he was only driving the car." Louise shrugged loose from Stuart's arm. "So you're not going to do anything."
"I didn't say that, did I?"
Louise searched his face, looking for some sign of belief.
"Look, Louise, I didn't get to be sixty-three in this job by being stupid." The smile vanished and the twinkling eyes were dead serious now. "I asked the state boys for help, but without some kind of proof, there's not much they can do." He held up his hand to ward off Louise's next question. "I went on ahead and deputized three extra men just in case. If anybody shows up looking like the men John described, we'll get 'em."
A weight lifted from Louise's shoulders. "You know, Stuart, when you cock your hat a certain way," she said with a smile, "you look just like John Wayne."
"Go on now with you now. I'll take over here." The twinkle was back in Stuart's eyes and Louise knew he was pleased despite all his protesting. "Get on over to Charlie Cates' place, would you? There's some trouble at the snake pit. I think it's Charlie's boy, Elliot."
A look of distaste crossed Louise's face at the mention of the fifteen-year-old's name.
"I guess you're remembering that little stunt he pulled last July fourth," Stuart said.
"I don't call lighting the barbecue grill with a flamethrower a little stunt. His dad could have been killed. Where on earth did Elliot get something like that?"
"His grandfather brought it back from Korea after the war. Had it buried in an old trunk out in his garage." Stuart motioned to a couple of elderly Japanese with camcorders. They paused to get a shot of Stuart, who sucked in his paunch for the occasion. "You got to admit the boy showed some mechanical ability, getting that thing working after all these years." The old sheriff seemed more amused than concerned by the incident.
"Yeah, he's a real genius. I don't think his dad's eyebrows are ever going to grow back."
"Well, that was unfortunate. Charlie had on one of those floppy chef's hats and it just sort of vaporized. Don't be too hard on the boy," Stuart said. "At that age Elliot's just a little rambunctious."
"He's just a little juvenile delinquent," Louise answered.
T
he five-year-old dangled headfirst over the open snake pit. His name was Timmy Cates and he was screaming bloody murder.
Inside the pit, there were nearly two hundred rattlesnakes crawling around. They made a constant crackling, like dry leaves underfoot, whenever their skins touched. As the small boy descended closer, a rattling sound began, a warning not to come any closer. It grew in volume. Several of the snakes lunged at the boy's face and his screams became even more shrill.
"Put him down, Elliot," Louise said.
"That's what I'm doing, putting him down." Elliot Cates laughed. "In the snake pit." The smirk stayed on the teenager's face as he lifted up his five-year-old brother by the ankle. He sat the boy back on the ground.
The boy ran over and grabbed Louise's leg in a death grip. She could feel his heart thudding against her leg. "It's all right, Timmy," Louise said. She stroked the top of the sobbing child's head. "Everything's going to be fine. You go find your mom."
Timmy turned, gave Elliot the finger before bolting.
"I wasn't really going to throw him in, Louise," Elliot said. "He asked what they ate, so I told him little boys. I was only having some fun."
"Is that a fact?" Louise asked, moving closer. She looked around to see if anyone was watching. They weren't.
"Yeah, that's a fact," Elliot said. "The little turd said my snake wasn't going to win." He saw something in Louise's face and took a step back. Unfortunately the snake pit was right behind him. He couldn't move any farther. "I didn't hurt the little crybaby any."
"You scared him pretty good. And he could have fallen, maybe broke his neck. It's a good fifteen feet to the bottom of that pit." Louise took another step forward. "He'll probably have bad dreams for a month because of what you did, Elliot." She punched the redhead teenager with a stiffened finger. "You ever have bad dreams, Elliot?" Her face was only inches away from Elliot's now. She grabbed him by his T-shirt and forced him back another step.
His feet found the edge of the pit and sand spilled down, causing the rattling to resume. A couple of the snakes began blindly lashing out. Elliot looked over his shoulder; he wasn't smiling anymore. He teetered, trying to regain his balance. "I'm sorry, Louise, honest. Relax. Jesus, it won't ever happen again. Okay?"
"Why don't I believe you, Elliot?" She took another step forward, bending the teenager back over the pit. "You ever see anyone after they've been bitten by one of those big rattlers? They get real sick. Sometimes they even… die."
"You're just trying to scare me, so quit kidding around. You're not going to knock me in the pit."
Louise let go of his T-shirt and he tipped backward, arms flailing wildly. He managed to grab hold of her arm. It was the only thing stopping him from pitching into the pit, and his grip wasn't secure. Louise's skin was sweaty.
His fingers began sliding.
"You think I'm still kidding around, Elliot?"
Elliot's grip was down to Louise's hand now. "I'm going to tell my old man what you did."
Louise's hand gripped his.
Elliot smiled.
"Maybe you won't get the chance." Louise's hand opened.
Elliot fell backward into the pit. He looked faintly surprised.
A third hand, dark, sunburned, reached out and grabbed hold of Elliot's shirt, held him suspended in space for a second. The shirt began tearing. The hand grabbed more material, and this time it held long enough for Elliot to be deposited on the ground at the edge of the pit. The shaken teenager looked down at his torn shirt, started to say something, but his throat didn't seem to want to work. He climbed to his feet and stumbled a couple of steps, fell. His legs had turned to rubber on him. He didn't look back.
Louise turned and saw Stuart. The elderly sheriff stood there, breathing heavily, with a piece of Elliot's shirt in his hand. The expression on his face was one of shock. "Louise, what in God's name are you doing?" The voice jarred her, brought her back from the dark place.
"Something somebody should have done a long time ago," Louise said. "Teach that little bastard some manners." She shook her head, trying to clear it. The anger in her was a hard fist pounding against her temples, and when it finally stopped, it left her weak. She almost collapsed and Stuart had to catch her.
"I'm sorry, Stuart, it's just when I saw Elliot holding Timmy over the pit, I guess I lost it. He would have fallen and I… and I…," Louise began to sob, then brutally ran her hand across her mouth, stifling the tears. "Couldn't take that again."
"Louise." Stuart started to put his arm around her.
Backing away, Louise reached into her uniform pocket, produced a cigarette, but her hands were too shaky to light it. She pulled it from her mouth, crumpled it, and threw the remains on the ground. "I smoke too damn much anyway." She tried to laugh but the sound came out all wrong.
"It's all right," Stuart said, pulling her close. "It's not your fault." He stroked her hair. "It's mine, all mine. I knew what Elliot was doing back here. I shouldn't have sent you. I guess I wasn't thinking. Forgive me."
"He was going to let his little brother fall. He was going to let… my baby fall…."
"It's all right." Stuart held her and cursed himself for being a damned old fool. "Nobody's going to fall. Nobody at all." He held her while she cried.
Chapter 16
T
he jackrabbit was running for its life, splay-footed panic in full flight.
It had come upon two most unusual predators.
Elliot and Timmy Cates.
The fifteen-year-old and his brother leaned low over the dirt bike, weaving in and out of the stands of cactus until they were right behind the terrified animal. The teenager's torn shirt flapped in the wind, making him into a redheaded scarecrow. He was all sharp edges and gangly limbs that seemed like they didn't fit together. The vacant green eyes and smile only added to the illusion. His little brother sat behind him, holding on tight.
The rabbit, desperate to escape, threw up dust as it tried to draw ahead.
Elliot pulled up alongside and knocked the animal flying with the long pole in his hand. "Lord Strathmore, the world's greatest polo player, scores the winning goal. The babes go crazy." He laughed when the rabbit went sprawling end over end, a tangle of legs and floppy ears. Elliot skidded to a halt, waited.
The exhausted jack climbed to its feet but, instead of taking off, it just crouched in the dirt, confused, its sides bellowing in and out.