“You really think he set those fires?” Paul asked.
“I don’t think he had a thing to do with those fires,” said Cowboy Three. “I ain’t gonna speak ill of the dead.”
“Last time he was in here, you sure had a different version. Started with
Cowboy Three sucked in his cheeks. “That’s because he was with Coyote that night.”
“Now, Coyote, he was Danny’s good buddy.”
“Uh huh,” said Nina.
“So what’s your interest in Danny?” said the artist.
“Actually, it’s Coyote I’d like to talk to,” Nina said.
“Why?”
How easily the lie flowed. “Danny’s uncle, Ben, found something in Danny’s room that belonged to Danny’s friend-I guess that’s Coyote, and my friend and I were coming out here anyhow to walk around the dam, so we said we’d ask around.”
This was rewarded with nods and pursed lips. Paul nodded too.
“Couldn’t be money,” Cowboy Two finally said. “Coyote sure ain’t got any of that, and Danny wouldn’t have saved it for him if he did.”
“Could you tell us where Coyote’s camp is?” Paul said.
“He’s got a camp out Arroyo Seco way.”
“Way out there,” Nina said.
“But you could just leave him a message at the one place we all go to when it all comes down.”
Nina nodded and smiled.
“Where’s that?” Paul said, and the whole bar, including Nina, said, “The Mid-Valley Safeway.”
“Ah. Right. We all have to buy groceries,” Paul said.
“Right,” Two said. “Even if he lives mainly on grilled squirrel.”
“What else can you tell us about Coyote?” Paul asked.
Two laughed. “He only talks when he’s drunk, but then you can’t shut him up. He collars you. The bar empties out when Coyote gets to talking about how he caught that big steelhead and gutted it and how good it tasted fried in a pan over a campfire.”
“How about the rest of you?” Paul asked. “You know the man?”
“He’s just… prickly. Yeah, that’s it. That’s why he yells at you if you say hey,” said Three, setting the roll of his stomach into movement as he chuckled. “Or even try to use the head, if he’s in there. He lives so deep in the boonies, he probably thinks the running water here is really special.”
“I remember he said once he grew up around Lake Tahoe,” said One. “But that’s right. Mostly he talks about hunting and fishing.”
Nina and Paul looked at each other.
“Hey, Donnelly, you were drinkin’ with him last week!” Three said suddenly.
Donnelly, the artist, had been watching them. He seemed to be working up some steam. “Boys, I don’t trust these people,” he said. “They come in here and they want to know where a man who likes his privacy lives. Who are you people?”
Surprised, Nina gave him her full attention. He had a twitchy, drumming presence that made Nina think about the dangers of crack cocaine. He seemed old to be abusing stimulants. In her experience older addicts preferred to mellow out.
“Just what we said,” Paul said with his innocent look.
“Lies. You’re the System.”
“The System?”
“The fucking exploiters and spies.”
“Oh, them. No, we’re just friends of Danny’s uncle.”
“IRS,” the artist said, counting on his fingers. “County sheriff. Welfare. Repo man. Child support. Which is it?”
“Look, I’m not after your friend at all. Danny left two hundred bucks in an envelope marked Coyote and his uncle wanted him to have it. Nobody cares what it’s for-drugs, loan, work, whatever. Screw it. We tried. We’ll buy dinner at the Sardine Factory instead. Let’s get out of here,” Paul said, turning to Nina and nudging her off the bar stool.
“Wait.” Two’s strong hand grasped Paul’s arm. “So it was money after all? Let’s see this envelope.”
“She has it.” Paul nodded casually toward Nina.
She opened her mouth and closed it. Opened it again. “I tossed the envelope,” she said. She opened her purse and pulled out ten twenties she had just received from the ATM and flipped the edges like a deck of cards.
“Lies,” said Donnelly. “Don’t tell them anything.”
“Oh, be quiet, Donnelly. You oughtta ease up on the controlled substances,” said Two, which brought on a hearty laugh from his
“But-”
“I said shut up. You hear? These nice folks come here to do a good deed. So shut the hell up.” He glowered at the artist, who stroked the gray soul-patch on his chin rapidly a few times and then got off the bar stool and walked out without a backward glance.
Two said, “He oughtta get some sleep. Now. About getting Coyote his money.”
“Coyote come in here regularly?” Paul asked.
Two shook his head. “Could be weeks before he stops by again. He has a younger brother he takes care of and I don’t think he likes leaving him alone.”
“How old?”
“Twelve, maybe thirteen? Less said about that kid, the better.”
“Big-time screwed up,” One stated.
“Screwed up how?” Paul asked. “Drugs?” Drugs were on both their minds at the moment.
Cowboy Three squeezed his little eyes littler, and snorted. “Drugs might have helped that kid. I’m afraid it’s probably too late to get him anywhere near normal.”
“You should meet Nate. Then you’ll have the full picture,” said One.
“Does he come in here?”
“Not hardly. You’d have to go out there to the tent to see them both, probably. But if you do that, watch it. Coyote keeps a pit bull.”
“Yeah, a real friendly animal,” said Cowboy Three, adjusting his hat back on his head. “Just like us.” That made all three of the men at the bar laugh. Hopping off his stool, Cowboy Two doodled a map on a napkin for Paul and Nina. “Go back to G-16 where it goes left around Sycamore Flat back to town. You want to take a right there instead, onto Arroyo Seco. He lives up a dirt road in Wood Tick Canyon. It’s a long way.”
This time Nina drove. She kept the air conditioner blasting on her arms while Paul dozed on the seat beside her. He slid back and forth, first against her, then against the side door as the road zigzagged around the canyons and hills of the Paloma Ridge. When they came to the main turn, she woke him up. “I need you to navigate. Pull out that map the guy gave us, okay?”
“Hey, I’m still alive,” he said, opening his eyes.
“You don’t trust my driving?”
“Of course I do or I wouldn’t let you drive.” He found the map in his pocket and studied it. “It’s irrational, this need I feel to scream when you take a blind curve fast, so I close my eyes to keep the peace.”
“So you’re letting me drive? I’m not taking a turn at the wheel as an equal?”
“It’s just a figure of speech. Lighten up, babe. I had a brainstorm when we were talking to the cowboys. Remember the one who was talking about Godzilla?”
“No. You thought of something about Coyote?”
“No, this is another verse for our monster song.” He sang in a deep growl:
“They’ll love it at the Grand Ole Opry. Speaking of turns,” she said, “is there a turn coming up?”
It should have been right there, although almost an hour of searching nearly convinced them otherwise. The snarl of dirt roads ended in gullies, fences, boulders, and debris. They finally located the right turn, exactly where the map showed it.
“How did we miss it?” Nina said, taking the pitted road too fast, irritated and tired, feeling as dusty as the road. As the afternoon progressed it had only grown hotter. They finally spotted a distant gray tent in a clearing up ahead. Nina parked. Paul jumped out of the car, closing his door silently while Nina pulled socks out of her bag and put them on along with her hiking boots. She also pulled out a long-sleeved shirt, unsnagged her rolled-up sleeves, and buttoned them tightly at the wrists.
“Why are you doing that?” Paul asked her. He had forgotten already.
How infuriating, that he had no such cares. “You can’t see it? Paul, this forest is crawling with it.” Poison oak swarmed up the trunks alongside the road, crossing on the Spanish moss from tree to tree. Clumps of it framed the road and flourished all the way up the hills around them.
They walked up the road toward the clearing, cautious, both wary of the pit bull. Paul held a thick branch. Nina stopped.
“What’s the matter? You see something?”
Long black shadows of the late afternoon made the road ahead look like something out of a fairy tale, where threatening beings wavered, waiting for them, and trees creaked and whispered as they walked by. The silence, aside from the hysterical buzzing of insects, seemed total.
“Know something? I have no idea where we are,” said Nina.
“I’m looking forward to getting the hell back to the river. You can shake your stuff at the Bucket for me alone.”
“I don’t like it here,” Nina said, slapping a mosquito that had crept up underneath her sleeve.
The heat rose up from the road, suffocating in the stillness.
