Unspeakable (9 page)

CHAPTER TEN

"H
e seemed okay," Delray said into the telephone. "But you can't be too careful these days."

"Especially in your situation, Mr. Corbett. I mean now that—"

"I know what you mean," Delray said, interrupting curtly.

The man on the other end of the line must have realized that he had put his foot in his mouth, because he rushed to say, "Just remember that I did this as a personal favor to you. This sort of detective work isn't my company's specialty."

"I understand."

"What I'd like to propose is for you to let me send out an armed guard. Just until this, uh, incident blows over."

"No thank you." Delray didn't equivocate. "I appreciate what you did for me. Especially since it's not really your line. But that's all I need. Good-bye."

He hung up, his face flushed with anger. He had asked the owner of a local security company, son of one of his former domino buddies, now deceased, to run a background check on Jack Sawyer.

That was all. But, sticking to tradition, the guy couldn't resist connecting him to Carl Herbold. He took several deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down. The guy's remarks weren't worth a rise in his blood pressure. He talked it down to a safer level and focused on the good news. The report on Sawyer had come back clean.

The security company had entered his name, Social Security number, driver's license, and car tag into the system. They hadn't cross-matched any bankruptcies, bad credit, or bounced checks. He owed no back child support. No arrests were on record. Not even a traffic ticket. Assimilating the information, Delray moved to the living room window and looked out across the yard. Sawyer had promised David that he would hang a swing from one of the large pecan trees. He'd gone into town yesterday to buy the supplies. Then last night, after hours and on his own time, he had sawed, sanded, and varnished the board for the seat. He'd found the chain in the toolshed and asked Delray's permission to use it.

Now he was adjusting the length of the chain so that the swing would be suspended the proper distance from the ground to accommodate the boy. With the swing about to be finished, David was hopping around and chattering with more animation than usual.

Naturally, Delray was relieved to learn that he hadn't hired a criminal or a deadbeat. It spoke well of his judgment that the report on Sawyer turned up nothing unfavorable. So why did he feel a little let down? Had he secretly wanted to hear that David's new hero had an arrest record as long as his arm, that he was wanted by the FBI, the IRS, and several other government entities? Had he been looking for a good excuse to send Sawyer packing?

On the one hand he would hate to. After only three days, he would feel the loss. It was too early to make a sound determination, of course, but so far he couldn't complain about Sawyer's work ethic. Just as he'd promised, the man put in a full day and then some. And it was damned easier to get through the workday with an extra pair of hands and a strong back helping out. He could no longer argue that he didn't need a hand. Having Sawyer had convinced him that he did. But he disliked Sawyer's being around all the time, and in such close proximity. He didn't welcome having other people on the place. Particularly other men. Even more particularly, men he knew virtually nothing about.

He, Anna, and David had lived here alone for a long time. They were creatures of habit. One day varied little from another. He liked knowing when he got up in the morning what he could expect of the day. The three of them had developed a well-suited, comfortable routine. Their life had structure, and Delray liked it that way. His peace of mind depended on it. Jack Sawyer would disturb the ordered pattern of their life. Any fourth party would. Having him around was certain to have an effect. It was the nature of that effect that concerned Delray. Plainly, David had developed a bad case of hero worship. But he was a child and easily impressed. His interests were mercurial, switching constantly and rapidly. Today it was dinosaurs. Tomorrow it could be rockets, or volcanoes, or jungles. Delray wasn't that worried about David's infatuation with Sawyer.

But what about Anna?

He glanced over his shoulder at her now. She was sitting in an upholstered easy chair, her feet tucked beneath her, a glass of iced tea at her elbow, a novel in her lap. Only she wasn't reading. She was gazing through another window at the tree, the swing, the boy, and the man. Feeling Delray's stare, she looked at him, then quickly returned her eyes to her book. Her guilty reaction needled him and played upon his worst fear.

Feeling in need of a chaw to help him relax, he made his way to the front door. No sooner had he cleared the threshold and stepped onto the porch than David shouted at him to come push him in his new swing.

"Jack says I can't go too high till I get the hang of it. Do you think I'll get the hang of it by tomorrow. Jack?"

As he crossed the yard, Delray tucked a plug of tobacco into his cheek. Then, stepping behind the swing, he gave it a push. "I can go higher than that, Grandpa," David complained. "I'm not a baby."

Jack leaned against the trunk of the tree. "Better warn you, Delray. He'll wear you out in no time."

David started making airplane noises. Delray gave the seat of the swing gentle shoves each time it arced back toward him. He glanced across at Sawyer. "Did you find your way around yesterday? In town, I mean."

"I followed my nose and managed not to get lost."

Delray nodded. He pushed the swing a few more times. "You don't have to stick around in the evenings, you know. You're free to come and go after hours, so long as you lock the gate behind you when you come in."

"Thanks, but I've got nowhere to go."

"Blewer's got a new multiscreen movie house the chamber of commerce is mighty proud of."

"Can't afford the picture show. What they want for a ticket, much less a bag of popcorn, is highway robbery."

"I hear some of the nightclubs are pretty lively."

Sawyer laughed softly. "More lively than me, I'm sure."

"Well, there are other places to meet folks. My daughter-in-law and I stick close to home, but a single man like you, stuck way out here, might get lonesome for... companionship."

"I might," Sawyer said, scratching the back of his neck. "But I've got little energy to go looking for it. By the end of the workday, I'm worn to a frazzle."

"There used to be a Bible study group for singles. I don't know if they still meet, but you could check around."

"I'm not that frazzled."

Delray laughed, but his heart wasn't in it, and apparently Sawyer noticed that he was beating around the bush. He asked, "Something on your mind tonight, Delray?" Sawyer had started calling him by his first name right off. He'd seen no reason to make an issue of it. "Why do you ask?"

Sawyer shrugged. "Seems like there might be."

Perceptive of him, Delray thought. But then they had been working side by side for the last three days. You sweat with a man, you come to know him. Like him and Dean. He had shared an uncommon bond with his son. It had been forged by the perspiration each had put into this place. Despite sports and other activities, Dean had worked with him after school and during the summers all the way through junior college and right up until he joined the army. Abruptly he said, "I've got some people who want to buy the ranch." He sensed a tension in Sawyer's posture, although he didn't actually move. "I didn't know you were selling."

"I'm not. That's the hell of it. This guy has been pestering me. He represents some people. I've told him I won't sell to anybody. He's not taking no for an answer."

"Higher, Grandpa!"

"Let me take over for a while." Jack motioned Delray aside and moved in behind the swing.

"Hold on tight now, David."

"I will, Jack. Push me high."

Sawyer gave the swing a push. "What people, Delray?"

Delray spat a string of tobacco juice. "Developers. An outfit out of Houston. This guy—Lomax is his name—put a fancy notebook full of charts and graphs in my mailbox last night. I thumbed through it after supper."

"And?"

"Basically they want to chop up my ranch into acre lots for rich people to put weekend houses on. Build a golf course, clubhouse, swimming pool, the works."

"I've seen it happening everywhere," Jack said. "There's an empty space, next week somebody's filled it with a fast-food restaurant or a convenience store. Some people think just because there's a space, something's got to go there."

"This Lomax is coming out in a few days to talk it over."

"What's his angle?"

"I don't know. It doesn't matter. My answer won't change. It's final. This meeting will be a waste of my time and his, but he insisted on coming, so I guess I owe him an audience."

"You don't owe him a damn thing."

Delray looked at him sharply. Sawyer's face was in shadow, so he couldn't easily read his expression. His tone of voice, however, spoke volumes. Sawyer wouldn't back down from a fight. Maybe his new hired hand wasn't as easygoing as he had first seemed. Delray said, "At the very least I'll have a chance to tell Lomax to his face to take a flying youknow-what."

"A flying what, Grandpa?"

Jack grinned at Delray, man-to-man.

He wanted to return the smile but felt it might compromise their relationship. He was this man's boss, not his newfound friend. Not his anything, really. In fact, he now regretted sharing with Sawyer his thoughts on the sale of his property. It bestowed on Sawyer a rank he hadn't earned. Spitting out his tobacco, he said, "I'm turning in. See you in the morning, Sawyer. Come along, David."

"I just started swinging, Grandpa," the boy whined. "Just a little longer? Please?"

"I'll see that he gets in," Jack offered.

The boy was having a grand time on the swing, and Delray really had no reason to insist that he go indoors. "Okay. Anna will be coming for him soon anyway."

Happy again, David chirped, "G'night, Grandpa."

"Good night, David."

At the door, Delray paused to take one last look at the swing. David was talking. Sawyer was listening patiently. He looked comfortable in the role of baby-sitter.

Jack Sawyer's security check had come back clean. He hadn't displayed a temper. He was intelligent and well read. Delray hadn't found a topic yet that Sawyer couldn't talk about. Except himself. He hadn't talked a whit about himself. Mostly he listened. He was a good listener, knowing when to comment as well as when to say nothing.

He was a good wrangler and had an encyclopedic knowledge of cattle. What he didn't know, he asked about. He worked hard. He never sloughed off. He initiated projects for himself. He took good care of the equipment. He put implements away after using them. He was a damned good ranch hand.

So why was a smart, congenial guy like him drifting from here to there in an old pickup truck, working odd jobs, without any family or friends or tether of any kind?

Furthermore, he seemed to have dropped out of the sky directly following Carl's escape from prison.

But if there were a connection between Jack Sawyer and Carl, it would have shown up in the security check.

Delray mistrusted coincidences. He didn't really believe in them. By nature he was suspicious and careful to a fault. He liked the younger man, but he didn't entirely trust him. Delray liked for things to add up.

Jack Sawyer didn't.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

"T
his is a j. You just draw it in the air with your little finger." Jack followed David's instruction, but the boy shook his head. "No, you gotta make an i first. See? Then..."

"Oh, okay, got it." Jack tried again.

"That's it, Jack. That's good. You're good at sign language."

"I've got a good teacher. How 'bout a?"

David secured his tongue in the corner of his mouth and with his chubby fist formed the sign for the letter. Jack imitated it. "Like this?"

"Um-huh. That's it. What comes next?"

" C."

" C's look easy. It looks just like it does when you print it. I can print, too. My mom taught me when I was only three."

"Pretty smart."

"That's what my mom says."

"Okay. J-a-c." Jack formed the letters with his right hand as he spelled them out. " K comes next."

"That's kinda hard. It's like this."

"This?"

"No, you gotta... Wait! My mom can show you. Hi, Mom. I was just showing Jack how to spell his name in sign language."

Jack, who'd been sitting on his haunches in front of the swing, came to his feet, turned around, and smiled sheepishly. "Hi."

Anna Corbett gave him such a cool once-over he wondered what he'd done to piss her off this time. He thought he'd been forgiven for his unintentional slight when they met. After all, he had fixed her car and saved her a repair bill. She had signed a " Thank you" to him. Maybe he had misinterpreted. Could she have signed something else? " Fuck you," maybe. Since moving into the trailer, he had caught only fleeting glimpses of her; once when she was watering the flowerpots on the front steps, another time when she walked with David down to the road to get the mail, and earlier today, when he was shoeing one of the horses, he glanced up and saw her standing in the back door. But she'd been gone in a blink, so he wasn't sure she'd even noticed him in the corral.