As the river swept them along and the bluffs receded behind them, Joe started to recognize the country. To the left, a mile away, was a hill that looked like an elephant’s head. Joe had noted it when he brought Sheridan out to Julie’s. They were getting close.
The river widened. The tops of willows broke the surface of the water a third of the way to the edge where the river normally flowed. The thick river cottonwoods began to open up a little, allowing more muted light to fall on the surface of the water.
Because his feet and legs were numb, Joe didn’t notice at first that the boat was sinking. But when he looked down, he saw the water at his ankles. Somewhere, they had knocked more cracks or holes in the hull and the water was seeping in. He hoped they could get to the ranch before the boat filled again. He didn’t want to waste another minute dumping the boat.
Nate started to bail with a gallon bucket. It helped a little, but he was losing the battle.
They rounded a bend and the river calmed for the first time since they’d gotten in the boat. The roar of the water hushed to a whisper. Calves bleated just ahead. The ranch was near.
That’s when Joe saw her. She stood on a brushy hillside on the left side of the bank, hands on hips, thrusting her face out at them with an unfamiliar smile on her face. His mouth dropped open and he let the oars loose in an involuntary reaction.
“Joe, who is that?” Nate asked, pausing with the bucket in midbail.
“Opal,” Joe said, his voice cracking. “Opal Scarlett.”
This was the exact spot described by Tommy Wayman, Joe thought. She was there after all, had been there all along, just as he surmised.
Nate said, “Why in the hell is she standing out in the rain like that?”
“She’s watching the end play out,” Joe said.
“Jesus,” Nate said, screwing up his mouth in distaste.
“Opal!” Joe called out, raising his hand. “Opal!”
She didn’t react. As they passed her, she didn’t turn her head and follow them, but stared stonily at the river.
“She couldn’t hear you,” Nate said.
“How could she not?”
“She’s old and probably deaf. And definitely crazy,” Nate said in awe.
“She’s been here all along,” Joe said, his mind numb.
THEY BEACHED THE boat on the bank with the water level inside just a foot below the sides of the boat. Another ten minutes in the water and the boat would have gone under.
Joe and Nate leaped out, leaving the boat to settle into the mud.
“Should we go talk to Opal? Find out what she knows?” Nate asked, looking from Joe to the ranch compound ahead and back. He was deferring to Joe, a new thing.
“Later,” Joe said. “I don’t want to waste time chasing her down. We can find her after we’ve checked out the buildings. Sheridan and Lucy have to be here.”
Nate gave him a look. How could he be so sure?
Joe didn’t acknowledge it. He just felt they were near.
The side of a fresh embankment had collapsed into the river from the rain. Something stuck out of the dirt of the wall, something long, horizontal, and metal. Nate approached it and rubbed mud away. It was the bumper of a car. Someone had used a front-end loader to bury it.
“Cadillac,” Nate said, rubbing the mud away from the logo.
“Opal’s car,” Joe said. “She buried it so everyone would think she drove away.”
“Why would she do that?”
Joe thought for a moment. “So she could see who won.”
AS THEY APPROACHED Arlen’s house, Joe’s insides were churning and he tried to swallow but couldn’t. He glanced down at the gun in his hand and saw it shaking.
“I’ll take the front,” Nate said. “You come in the back.”
“If you see Keeley,” Joe said, “shoot first.”
“Not a problem,” Nate said.
As they parted, Nate reached out and grabbed Joe’s arm.
“Are you okay to do this?”
Joe said, “Sure.”
“Stay cool.”
JOE KEPT A row of blooming lilac bushes between him and the side of the house as he jogged around toward the back. As at Hank’s house, he could see no lights on inside or any sign of life. A calf bawled in the distance from a holding pen. Drizzle flowed softly through the leaves of the trees and running water sang through the downspouts of the house.
He stepped over a low fence and into the backyard. There was a porch and a screen door. The door was unlocked and he opened it as quietly as he could and stepped inside a dank mudroom. Heavy coats lined the walls and a dozen pairs of boots were lined up neatly on the floor.
The mudroom led to the huge kitchen where Sheridan had described seeing Arlen and Bill Monroe together. Joe
