Six A.M. they brought Boyd Crowder down to the courthouse under guard, Art Mullen not trusting the man to walk in on his own. Raylan believed he would. Last night when he called Art, he said the idea of walking in past a gathering of law enforcement people would appeal to Boyd, the man confident he'd walk out again, after.
Raylan made the call from Ava's house after telling her he wouldn't be able to stay the night. She said if he had to get up real early she could set the alarm, it wouldn't bother her none. She said she knew he wanted to. He said well sure he did - and it was true, he was tempted - but, see, an officer of the law wasn't supposed to go to bed with the defendant in a murder investigation. Ava said oh, she didn't know that. She said well, couldn't they like just fool around?
It was hard to get out of there but he did.
Now he stood in the main corridor of the courthouse. Art Mullen motioned to him and Raylan went over to where Art was standing by an office door, the top part glass. He looked in to see Israel Fandi sitting alone in his dashiki, all different shades of brown with some orange.
'Izzy was telling us,' Art said, 'how his family from Ethiopia goes back seven hundred years. I said I didn't think Mobile, Alabama, was that old. That's where he's from originally. We turn the lights out in there and line up Boyd out here in the hall. We thought at first with some miners. But you know what Boyd looks like?'
'A cop,' Raylan said. 'I see his buddy's here, the one they call Devil? And a skinhead from Florida with dyed hair.'
'I saw them.'
'You let 'em hang around?'
'They raise a ruckus, we can bust 'em.'
It wasn't long after, Devil himself strolled up, Dewey Crowe trailing him. Devil said, 'What time's the show?' As he looked in the office Art stepped in front of Devil and shoved him aside, Devil saying, 'Hey, come on, me and Iz are buds.' Art told him to keep away from the door and Devil said, 'He never saw Boyd up there in Cincy. Even if he says he did to please you, you know he didn't. But why would he? Iz's going down anyway for the weed.'
They brought Boyd along the corridor and stood him in line with three marshals and two ATF agents and turned out the light in the office. It was off a good ten minutes, the lineup standing in place, before it came on again. Raylan noticed Boyd was the only one didn't move or fidget during that time. Now Art came out with the Bureau people who'd been in there with Israel and told Boyd he could go.
Boyd saw Raylan and came over.
'I'm gonna sit down with my lawyer when I leave here. They went through my house saying they had probable cause to look for guns. They tore up my posters and threw 'em in the trash barrel with my gook ears, burned up my private property.'
'It wasn't yours,' Raylan said. 'The house belongs to the Marshals Service. You can understand they don't like all that Nazi shit hanging on their walls.'
'It's some govermint can take a man's house from him,' Boyd said. He looked up the corridor to where Devil and Dewey Crowe were waiting for him, then back to Raylan.
'Last night this marshal's telling me how one time you gave this fella twenty-four hours to get out of town or you'd shoot him on sight. Is that true?'
'Was a gangster I saw shoot an unarmed man,' Raylan said. 'I didn't feel he deserved any special favors. I gave him the option and he turned it down.'
'Well, all the trouble you're causing me,' Boyd said, 'I thought I'd make you the same offer. Get out of Harlan County by tomorrow noon or I'll come looking for you. That sound fair?'
Raylan said to him, 'Now you're talking.'
When he told Art Mullen Boyd had set this deadline, Art said, 'It's become something personal?' frowning, at first not liking the sound of it.
'That's what it looks like,' Raylan said, 'since Boyd and I go back, but it isn't. You're the one gave him the idea while you're busting up his house last night.'
'Our house,' Art said.
They were having their noon dinner of steak and eggs at the Western Sizzlin Steak place out on the 421 bypass.
'I see you and him both cut from the same stock, born a hundred years past your time.'
Art had said it once before and it reminded Raylan of a woman named Joyce saying pretty much the same thing but in different words. He was seeing her at the time he shot the gangster in Miami Beach, and Joyce had trouble accepting the fact he had deliberately shot and killed a man. She told him he had an image of himself as a lawman, meaning an Old West lawman but without the big mustache, and he believed it might be true in some deep part of his mind. Another time Joyce said, 'The way you put it, you said you called him out. What did you think, you were in a movie?' Her saying it caught him by surprise, because at times he did see it that way, as something he had borrowed from a western movie. He liked westerns a lot.
By the time they were into their flame-kist steak and eggs, both dipping toast into the yolks, Art had come to appreciate Raylan's situation.
'We're like big-game hunters, you know it? Only you're the bait, like a goat tethered to a post. All we have to do is keep you in sight.' Art took time to chew up a bite of steak.
'What'd he say exactly, he's coming for you or we're coming?'
'He said he was.'
'But we don't know if he wants to shoot you or blow you up, do we?'
Raylan, mopping up his plate, didn't comment, letting Art have his fun.
'Or, Boyd might jump the gun,' Art said, 'do it ahead of time, when you aren't looking. I was you I'd check under the car before you turn the key.'
He said later on when they were having their pie, 'I knew bringing you here was a good idea.'
IX.
Boyd didn't hate Raylan any more'n he'd hated those dead gooks without ears. Taking Raylan out was like a military objective, better to look at with a clear head than get emotional about it. Up at Sukey Ridge he told the skinheads gathered for the raid into Virginia he was putting it on hold, there was a matter he had to settle first. The skins gave him their shrugs and popped open beers.
He had already put the two locals, the Pork brothers, up on that hill that was behind the Mount-Aire Motel, where Raylan and the rest of the feds were staying. The brothers had Russian binoculars, deer rifles, an AK-47 and a cell phone and were told to stay in the trees and watch for Raylan Givens. Call and report whenever his Town Car came or went, a big shiny Lincoln losing its shine. One of the Pork brothers said, 'What if we get a clear shot at him?'
Boyd wasn't sure they could hit the motel from beyond two hundred yards, but it gave him an idea. How to set Raylan up and get him off by himself. He told the Pork brothers to sit tight, he'd let them know.
He told Devil Ellis and the skin who wore the alligator teeth, Dewey, he was thinking of taking his shot that night. It was Devil said, 'I thought you were giving him twenty-four hours.'
Boyd said what that actually meant was the next time you saw the person, not the next day to the hour. Hell, the guy would be dug in waiting on you. He said, 'I know Raylan ain't leaving, so I may as well hit him when it suits me.' He told them he had considered waiting across the road from the motel with an RPG and when the Town Car pulled in blow it to hell. 'But there's no cover over there to speak of, the mall close by,' Boyd said, 'and I'd as soon plug him face-to-face anyway.'
Both Devil and Dewey said they wanted to be there when he did, and Boyd surprised them saying they would, as they were gonna be his backup. They acted tickled to death till he said, 'You know Raylan will have his own people,' and could tell they hadn't thought of that. But then he said, 'How'd we keep the law busy when we robbed those banks?' It got their heads nodding, both of 'em grinning, showing they still wanted to be along. 'I've
