down at me, I was surprised to see Artie’s nephew, Nate, with a small revolver jammed into the policeman’s neck. He nudged the patrolman forward. “Open the door.”
I started to sit up but kept one hand underneath the blanket at the small of my back. “Nate, what are you doing?”
“Shut up, man.” He pushed Last Bull toward the holding cell.
I unsnapped the safety strap on my Colt and drew it from the holster as I sat the rest of the way up, still keeping it concealed. Bleary as I was, I gave him a good look to make sure he wasn’t drunk or otherwise impaired. He wasn’t, but he looked excited and pretty scared at the same time. I tried to sound as lifeless and bored as possible, which wasn’t so much of a reach. “Nate, have you lost your mind?”
“Shut up!” He pushed Charles’s shoulder. “Unlock it.”
Charles looked at me.
I blinked my eyes. “Do you know what time it is?”
Nate pushed the patrolman again. “I said unlock it.”
I didn’t say anything more and watched as Charles flicked up the right key and turned it in the lock, swinging the cell door wide. Nate pushed the patrolman inside and held the revolver on him. Charles backed against the bars with his hands raised, the key ring still in his fingers.
“Nate, what are you gonna do? Take your uncle and run off into the wild? Every law enforcement agency on the high plains will be looking for you.”
“Shut up!”
I yawned and wondered if I was ever going to get any sleep. “Does your grandmother know that you’re here?”
He redirected the pistol at me; the hammer was not pulled back. “I told you to shut up, man!” His attention went to his uncle on the bunk, and I noticed he’d stuffed Charles’s sidearm in the back of his jeans. “C’mon, Artie, I’m bustin’ you out.”
The elder Small Song did not move but continued snoring loud enough to rattle the only window on the far wall.
“C’mon, Artie!” He waited a moment and then reached out a hand to jostle the big man’s shoulder; still no response. He looked at the ice pack Henry had placed at the nape of Artie’s neck. “What did you guys do to him?”
I stood and now held the. 45 behind my hat. “He’s asleep-like everybody else except for you.”
He gestured with the pistol. “Come on in here; you guys are going to help me carry him out.”
I shrugged and shook my head at the youth, pretty sure that none of us were in imminent danger. I casually slipped my hat onto my head and made a show of stuffing my sidearm back into its holster. Quickly, I took a step forward, snatched the keys from Charles’s raised hand, slammed the door shut, and locked the cell. I tossed the key ring into the hallway where it struck with a jangle and slid to the far end of the tile floor.
Nate looked at me and raised the pistol higher. “What’d you just do?”
“I just locked you in the cell.” I sat on one of the chairs and looked at him as Artie continued to snore.
He looked a little uncertain as to how to proceed from this point. “Fuck!” After a moment, his arm wavered and then redirected itself at Charles, who still stood against the bars with his arms raised. “I’ll shoot him!”
“Go ahead, I don’t care for him that much anyway.” Charles turned his head and looked at me with his eyes a little rounded.
Nate swung the revolver back at my face. “I’ll shoot you!”
I casually palmed the Colt from the small of my back and rested it on my knee. “You do, and I’ll shoot you back.”
He literally stamped a tennis shoe. “Fuck!”
I readjusted my bed, yawned again, and made a big show of stretching. “Here’s the deal; you give me both guns, I unlock you, you go home, and we all get a good night’s sleep.” I holstered the Colt and stood. “How about it?”
“Fuck!”
“I need a different answer.”
He glanced at his snoring uncle, at Charles, and then back to me. “How do I know I can trust you, man?”
I distended my cheeks with a hearty exhale. “You’re kidding, right?” I stuck a hand through the bars and motioned for him to hand me the drawn gun.
He didn’t move at first but then his grip relaxed on the revolver and it swung down, dangling from his index finger.
I studied it in hopes that it wasn’t the same caliber as the one that had killed Clarence. It was, but I could tell it hadn’t been fired in a long time. I gestured toward the semiautomatic in the waistband of his jeans. “That one, too.”
He handed them to me, and I stood there looking like I had just come from Bed, Bath and Pistols. “I’m going to go get the keys, and then I’ll unlock you and you can get out of here-I’d be quick about it, because I’ve got a sneaking suspicion that Charles here is going to want to beat the hell out of you.” I glanced at the big patrolman. “I got that right, Chuck?”
He nodded and grunted.
I retrieved the keys, came back, and unlocked the door, handed the ring and sidearm back to Charles as a more contrite Nate stood by the bars. When the young man attempted to follow the patrolman, I placed a hand on his chest.
“Hey, you said that…”
“After I ask you a few questions.”
The sullenness returned in a flash. “And what if I don’t want to answer?”
I gestured toward the big tribal policeman, who was holstering his weapon. “Then I stuff Charles back in here, lock the door again, and go take a walk for about five minutes.” I glanced at the patrolman’s pock-marked face. “That about how long it’ll take, Chuckles?”
“Two.” The large man had become remarkably more conversational.
I held up the revolver. “Where’d you get the gun?”
He grimaced. “Artie’s locker at Gramma’s house.”
“I don’t suppose you’d know where Artie’s been since night before last?”
He nodded. “Eating the elk at the house.”
I stuffed the revolver into my own jeans. “He came back after we left?”
“Yeah.”
“He was there the whole time?”
“Yeah.”
“Were you there the whole time?”
“No, I got work up at KRZZ.”
I thought about it. “How did you get here?”
He shot a look at his sleeping uncle. “Artie’s truck.”
“The one you tried to run me over with?”
“Um, yeah.”
“Nate, did you know that you say um every time you lie?”
“Um…”
I shook my head and thought about the sleep I was losing. “You’re not the one who tried to run me over. I think that you’re trying to cover for your uncle, but in all honesty I don’t think he was behind the wheel either.” I felt a sudden surge of exhaustion and leaned my head against the bars and closed my eyes. “I’m thinking that whoever stole Artie’s truck at the bar was the one who tried to run me over, and that someone might have a connection to Audrey’s and Clarence’s deaths.”
His attention, at least, was peaked. “You think?”
“I think.” I opened my eyes and studied him. “Who else was at the Jimtown Bar that night?”
He made a face. “Everybody.” He gestured. “He was there.”
I glanced at the patrolman. “Charles?”
