hand by his head, and relax again.
I spoke softly, like I was in church. “He’s a quiet kid; the only time I ever heard him cry was when somebody threw him off a cliff.”
She looked at me for a moment, possibly unused to cop humor, and then nodded. “I think he’s cried three times since he’s been here. At feeding time or changing his diapers, you come in and he’s just looking around like he’s taking in the place. Audrey used to bring him to work with her, and nobody complained because he was such a good little guy.” She walked over to the crib and arranged the blanket, her hand lingering on the child. “I was out putting some things in my car and saw Lolo pulling out hell bent for leather, not that she drives any other way.”
“She’s headed for Hardin but said she’d be back later this evening. I think the federal agencies are going to pull the plug on our homicide investigation.”
Hazel looked sad and answered in a low voice, our conversation taking on a conspiratorial quality. “That’s not going to make Lo happy; she’s really enjoyed working with you, and I don’t think she’s enjoyed much of anything else since she’s gotten back.”
“What’s the story on her husband-Kyle is it? And her son?”
“Danny. Oh, I go see them up in Billings every other weekend.”
I studied her. “And Lolo doesn’t?”
“No. I’m not sure what to make of it, but I’m hoping that over time she’ll work whatever it is out.” The baby clutched Hazel’s finger. “I’ve gotten to the age where I try and let people solve their own problems.”
“What age is that, anyway?” My eyes returned to the orphan, and I was overwhelmed by the odds against the little guy. “Do you have any idea where Adrian’s going to go?”
She sighed. “Not really. There’s Audrey’s sister, but… Herbert His Good Horse is the godfather, and he’s been so sweet in coming in and checking on him, but I don’t see him as the adoptive father type. I don’t know. Maybe I’ll see if I can get him.”
My eyes came up from the baby to her face.
She caught my gaze. “I’m pretty good at raising children, even with Lo’s present problems, just in case you haven’t noticed.”
“I have.”
“Anyway, you better get out of here. Don’t you have a wedding to plan?”
“Oh, the wedding juggernaut appears to be staggering forth on its own weight and took off toward Billings for supplies and the groom. My daughter arrived and took charge. I was released on my own recognizance.” I laughed gently. “I’ve been finding myself in that position a lot lately.”
She gently pulled her finger away from Adrian and joined me at the foot of the crib. “It must be hard with your wife gone.”
“Yep, it is. All I can think about is how much Cady looks like Martha and all the things that Martha would’ve wanted to tell her. Hell, I can’t remember to tell her all the things I want to tell her. Every time I look at her and realize what’s happening, I just choke up.”
Hazel gripped my arm and put on a voice tinged with brio. “Get a grip on yourself, man. It’s only a wedding.” She pulled a slip of paper from the clipboard under her arm. “I gave Lo a list of the individuals who were prescribed all or most of the medications that were listed on the medical bracelet you found, but I found a few more.”
I looked at the piece of paper, and there were more than forty names on the list. “Brother.” I scanned down the lines, my eye catching on Lonnie Little Bird. “Lonnie?”
“He went through a bad period when he lost his legs.”
I continued reading-Running Wolf, Lone Bear, American Horse, Bear Comes Out, Big Hawk, Bobtail Horse, Buffalo Horn, Red Fox, Crazy Mule, Eagle Feathers, Elk Shoulder, Fire Crow, Little Coyote, Magpie, Old Mouse… but nothing from the menagerie struck me. I folded the piece of paper and placed it in my breast pocket. “Well, it was worth a try.”
She pulled me toward the door. Smiling, I gestured toward the brute. “You mind if I take my dog to a late lunch?”
She went back to watching the baby. “Not at all, just have him back here by tonight; I sleep easier knowing he’s in here with the little guy.”
I patted my leg, and the monster rose from the floor rear-end first, stretching and yawning with a terrifying show of teeth. “C’mon, I’ll buy you a cheeseburger.”
He wagged, which I took as a yes.
When we got outside to Rezdawg, Dog sat on the concrete parking lot and looked at me. “I know, but it’s all we’ve got.” I opened the door, but he continued to look at me. “C’mon.” With a look of resignation, he made the leap to the shower curtain-covered seat, the very picture of fallen dignity. I closed the door and went around and climbed in the driver’s side. “Don’t worry; I’ll get our truck back. I promise.”
I hit the starter and, predictably, nothing happened.
The GEN and OIL lights glowed feebly back at me, and I looked at Dog in apology. “As much as you hate this truck, I hate it more.”
I climbed out, unhooked the rubber straps behind the grille, pinched my finger into a blood blister with the hood latch, and finally got the thing open long enough for it to close onto the back of my head. I pushed it up again, with more effort and a little anger this time, reset my hat, and stood outside its jaws long enough to make sure the hood would stay up.
Relatively sure I wasn’t going to get snapped again, I wiggled the corroded positive clamp on what had to be the original AUTOLITE STA-FUL battery and thought I’d be happy if the damn thing just STA-CHARGED. The greenish-white buildup on the lug fell away just enough for the worn bare part of the cable to turn and rub against the inner fender and shoot sparks around the engine bay, my hand held in an electrified death grip.
I yanked away and stood there holding my fingers and restrained myself from kicking the grille guard, sure if I did that it would release the parking brake and the three-quarter-ton would roll over me. Then I remembered it didn’t have a parking brake and went ahead and kicked it.
When we pulled up to the Charging Horse Casino, which I had decided was as good for late lunch as anywhere, there was no shade in the parking lot, so, even if I wanted to leave Dog, which I didn’t, I couldn’t. He followed me up the concrete ramp to the door where an aged Cheyenne with an impressive ponytail and a black silk jacket with a security badge stopped us with an extended hand.
He looked at me for a moment but then let his hand fall. “Hello, Walt.”
“Mr. Black Horse.”
The older man, who had been my sponsor at the peyote meeting that seemed like years ago, dropped a hand down to Dog’s level so that the beast could sniff at it and then lay a lick on him that covered the width of Albert’s knuckles. “I’m afraid there are no dogs allowed in the casino.”
“How about service dogs?”
Albert looked down at the behemoth.
“He outgrew his vest.”
Albert smiled and scratched behind a red, brown, and black ear. “How about I let you take him into the Bingo Hall? There’s nobody in there, and I can get Loraine to serve you at the back commissary window.”
“Sounds like a deal.”
He ushered us through the discordant music of the one-armed bandits and deposited us at the counter in the cavernous room in the rear. The place was as big as a gymnasium, complete with a scoreboard the size of a ballpark’s, and what must’ve been a hundred event tables with folding chairs.
After a moment the gate rolled up, and Loraine Two Two smiled at me and even at Dog. “I see you took the precaution of eating almost alone this time?”
I laughed and looked down at the furry face. “Oh, he’ll get his share. As a matter of fact, I was thinking that I’d order him up his own. They’ve been feeding him dry food over at the health center, and I figured he was about due a hamburger.”
She looked concerned. “Was he hurt?”
“Nope, he’s been standing guard over Adrian Last Bull.”
Her eyes melted. “I’ll see that he gets a double helping.”
Albert Black Horse came around the corner and took a stool on the other side of Dog, then reached out and
