“Won’t miss you? Won’t miss Stevie? Won’t miss whoever happens to be with you?”
“Jo, I told Marsha this morning that I was through helping with the Kingbird business.”
“Apparently Lonnie Thunder didn’t get that message. What did you tell him?”
“I didn’t have time to say anything. He hung up.”
“What would you have told him?”
The doctor came before Cork could answer. He was a new one, a tall kid with wire-rims and stubble who looked like he’d been on his shift too long. His name was Stiles.
“As I suspected, the nose is broken. Setting it will probably require that we rebreak it. I’m going to have you see Dr. Barron tomorrow. He’ll be better able to tell you the specifics. He handles this sort of thing all the time. In the meantime, keep Stephen on Tylenol for the pain and use ice for the swelling.”
Stevie was awake and listening.
“Do I have to go to school tomorrow?”
“Up to your folks, but I’d say it’s probably best to take a day off, see how things go.”
“All right!” Stevie gleamed.
Jo said, “I thought you liked school.”
“Yeah, but I like a day off better.”
At home, Annie greeted them at the back door. Cara Haines was with her. Both girls made a big fuss over Stevie, which he pretended not to like. After Stevie went upstairs with Jo to put on his pajamas, Cork told them the full story.
“We were at the Broiler and heard the police sirens, but we didn’t know they were going out to Sam’s Place,” Cara said.
“Do you think it was Lonnie Thunder?” Annie asked.
“Seems a reasonable possibility,” Cork said.
“Ike Thunder was at the Broiler, Dad.” Annie was talking about Lonnie Thunder’s father. “He came in after we heard the sirens.”
“How did he seem?”
“Stumbling a little, like he was drunk. He was still sitting at the counter talking to himself when we left.”
Cara looked at her watch. “I’ve got to go, Annie.”
Annie walked her to the front door, and Cork headed upstairs. Stevie was already in bed. Jo sat beside him and they were talking quietly.
“You look like the Lone Ranger,” Cork said. Then he said, “Stevie, I’m sorry.”
“Why?”
“I got you right in the middle of things tonight.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Dad. And I wasn’t scared for me. I was scared for you.”
Almost half a decade earlier, Stevie had seen his father shot, a serious wound that had nearly killed Cork. It had taken a while-visits with a therapist, and finally the wisdom, guidance, and healing of Henry Meloux-to make the boy whole again. To a ten-year-old, five years was half a lifetime, and Cork was relieved to see that Stevie had, indeed, grown beyond the old terrors.
“What are you going to do?” Stevie asked.
Jo looked interested in the answer to this one.
“I’m not sure.”
“I think it’s like with a bully,” Stevie said. “You don’t let a bully bully you or else he always will.”
“Where’d you learn that?” Jo didn’t sound happy with Stevie’s position.
“You told me, remember? Last year when Gordie Sumner was being such a pain in the butt.”
“This is different, Stevie,” she countered. “This bully has a rifle.”
Stevie shook his head. “With bullies there’s always something to be afraid of.”
Cork said, “What scared me most was that you might get hurt.”
“I’m not afraid.”
Cork understood that this was true at the moment and he was proud of his son. Jo stood up and kissed Stevie’s cheek. “You need rest. If you have any trouble in the night, you wake us up, okay?”
“Okay.”
Cork leaned down and kissed his son’s forehead. “I love you, guy.”
“I love you, Dad.”
“Light on?”
“Maybe for a little while,” Stevie said.
Jo went to the bathroom, where Cork heard water running in the sink and the sound of an electric toothbrush. He headed to the bedroom and took the small suitcase from the shelf in the closet. He’d half filled it when he heard Jo leave the bathroom. She stopped in the doorway and watched him pack.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to stay at Sam’s Place until this business is finished. I think it’s safest for everyone. If Thunder gets it in his head to pull off a few more rounds, I don’t want any of you anywhere near me.”
Her eyes went cold and her voice was all frost. “You’re going after him.”
“I’m not going to just let this thing lie.” He went to the closet and pulled out a hooded sweatshirt that was hanging on a hook.
“You won’t be happy until one of you is dead, is that it?”
“There’s no way I can make you understand, Jo. I’m not even going to try. This is just the way it’s going to be.”
“Goddamn you, Cork.” She said it quietly so that Stevie, in his bed down the hall, wouldn’t hear.
He snapped the suitcase closed.
“What do I tell him?” she said.
“Tell him I’m squaring off with a bully.”
“This bully has a rifle.”
“With bullies there’s always something to be afraid of.”
She went to him and put her hand on his arm, as if to restrain him. “You were all set to step away from this.”
“Thunder changed my mind.”
“And I can’t change it back.” She dropped her hand. “This is so fucking macho stupid.”
“Lock the doors,” he said, and moved past her.
He took his. 38 police special from the lockbox in the closet and pulled the gun belt with the basket-weave holster from the shelf. He went to the basement and from the locked cabinet took his Remington and cartridges for both firearms. Upstairs, Jo stood in the kitchen, near the back door.
“Cork, please don’t go. Please just let Marsha and Ed and their people handle this.”
“Their people don’t know the rez. Nobody on the rez will talk to their people. You know that.” He understood her fear, he really did. He wished she understood him. He tried one more time. “Jo, can’t you feel it? It’s like we’re standing on an ocean shore watching a tidal wave come at us. Something big and awful is taking shape and it’s going to hit this county and everyone in it. I can’t just stand by and let that happen.”
“You’re exaggerating, Cork.”
“Am I? Two people have been brutally murdered already. The Red Boyz aren’t going to let that slide. Buck Reinhardt wants Lonnie Thunder dead, and to make that happen he’s probably more than willing to go through all the Red Boyz and anyone else who stands in his way.”
“Including you.”
“It doesn’t have to come to that.”
“But it could,” she said.
“Not if I find Thunder.”
“This argument feels hopelessly circular. And I know I’m not going to convince you, so just go.”
“About Stevie tomorrow-”
“I’ll take care of Stevie. Just go.” She put a hand on his chest and gave him a light shove toward the door.
Now he felt pushed out, which didn’t sit well with him. But leaving was what he’d wanted, right? Even so, he
