could tell the introduction was for his benefit, at Sheridan’s instigation, to assure him that things were okay, that she and Julie were well supervised.
Arlen said, “When Hank and Doris started having trouble, Mother let Doris and Julie move across the ranch to the guest house. Hank doesn’t like it one bit, but at least he can see his daughter from time to time. Mother really doted on that girl.”
Arlen stood there, something obviously on his mind, making it awkward for Joe to turn and go.
Arlen said, “Now I’ve got a question for you, if you don’t mind.”
“Fire away.”
“I heard someone called and reported my brother Hank had committed some pretty serious game violations. That he had illegal mounts and species displayed at his house. Do you know anything about this?”
Joe thought:
Arlen searched Joe’s face. “Authorization?”
Joe knew he was on thin ice as he proceeded, Arlen being a new Game and Fish commissioner. But why protect Randy Pope?
“You might have heard,” Joe said, as diplomatically as possible, “the agency director has assigned himself the job of being my immediate supervisor. He reserves the authority to okay my actions and duties.”
“And he hasn’t done so,” Arlen said, his voice cold.
“No sir, in this case . . .”
Arlen turned on his heel and walked back to his house. “Wait here,” he said over his shoulder to Joe. “I’ll be right back.”
Joe leaned back against his pickup, wondering what kind of trouble he’d just gotten himself in now.
SHERIDAN CAME OUT of the house to hug him good-bye. As he pulled her into him, he leaned down and whispered, “I can still take you home.”
She stepped back and raised her eyes to him. “Dad, I’m the only girl who showed up. I can’t leave. Don’t you understand?”
Joe looked at her, wanted to insist she get her things and climb back in, but he saw his growing daughter in an admirable new light.
“Then at least promise to call immediately if you need anything, okay?”
“That would be easier to do if I had a cell phone,” she said, her eyes triumphant.
“We’ll talk about it later,” Joe said, sighing.
Arlen appeared at a window on the second floor of the main house holding a telephone. He leaned out of the window, and gestured a thumbs-up to Joe.
“What’s that about?” Sheridan asked.
“Hank,” Joe said.
JOE SLOWED AS he cruised by Wyatt’s chicken coop. The place looked dark and buttoned down, the window curtains pulled tight.
His cell phone burred and he plucked it from its mount on the dash and said, “Joe Pickett.”
“Hold for Director Pope,” said Pope’s administrative assistant.
Joe smiled. That hadn’t taken long.
“Pickett,” Pope said brusquely, “I want you to proceed with that 800-POACHER tip as soon as possible.”
“Gee,” Joe said, “what’s the hurry?”
Silence. Joe could imagine Pope gritting his teeth, having just concluded his call from Arlen.
“Just get right on it,” Pope said.
“It’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”
“What do you mean it will have to wait?”
“I’ve got to get home and write up my daily report,” Joe said. “My supervisor demands it by five P.M.”
“Oh, for God’s sake . . .”
“And you need to get me a new truck. This thing is ready to fall apart,” Joe said, looking at the temperature gauge, which was in the red. “I don’t think it’ll last the month.”
“
“I can’t hear you. You’re breaking up,” Joe said, tapping the phone against the side of his head before punching off.
His visit to Hank would need to wait, Joe said to himself, until his daughter was off the Thunderhead Ranch.
14
THE WORD THAT POPPED INTO SHERIDAN PICKETT’S mind that evening, as the Scarletts sat down to dinner
