Gruff voice: 'I sure as hell agree with that.'
Finotta: 'Charlie Tibbs said the game warden was at the cabin when he got there. He called me about it and explained the situation, and I told him to proceed. It was just a bad coincidence that the game warden was in the middle of everything when Charlie took action. Besides, I knew the guy He's the local game warden. Name is Pickett, Joe Pickett. He's been a pain in my side recently'
Silence.
New voice: 'I still think Charlie went way over the line. You should have let us know about this, Jim.'
Gruff voice: 'Before now, we mean. Now it's too late.'
New voice: 'That's why we have an executive board--to agree on these things. No one has the authority to just willy-nilly decide who lives and who dies. Not even you. That's why we made that list in the first place--to clearly define all of the targets.'
Finotta: 'Can't we discuss this later? I've got Charlie Tibbs in my bunkhouse and we don't know where in the hell Stewie Woods and the game warden are.'
Gruff voice: 'Probably dead of exposure. You say the local sheriff sent out a helicopter to look for them?'
Finotta: 'Yes, but the weather got bad and the helicopter was grounded. But the pilot and spotter never saw anybody'
Gruff voice:' Yup, those two saps are worm food by now.'
Texas twang: 'But Charlie got that lawyer and that wolf woman, that's what I'm hearing?'
Finotta: 'That's what Charlie said.'
Gruff voice: 'So he cleared the entire list, huh?'
Texas twang: 'That Charlie was something, wasn't he?'
Joe despised these people. He held the phone away from him, stunned. Stewie had been so close as they listened that Joe felt uncomfortable. Stewie had been practically on top of him, pressing closer to hear. They both smelled bad after their time in the mountains, but in Joe's opinion, Stewie smelled worse. Joe felt a tug on his belt. Then Stewie suddenly wrenched the telephone from Joe's hand, and held the receiver to his mouth.
'You were wondering about Stewie Woods?' Stewie cut in. 'Guess what? It's your lucky day, you assholes!'
'Who the hell was that, Jim?' Joe heard the Gruff Voice say before Stewie slammed down the phone.
When Joe reached to retrieve the telephone, Stewie pointed something so close to Joe's eyes that Joe couldn't focus on what it was. The blast from his own canister of pepper spray hit Joe full in the face and eyes and he went down as if his feet had been kicked out from under him.
'Sorry buddy' he heard from somewhere above him. Joe was thrashing, his arms and legs jerking involuntarily his lungs burning. He tried to speak but his voice only made a hoarse, bleating sound he couldn't recognize. A jet turbine roared in his ears. His head was on fire and his eyes felt like they were being burned from their sockets by a blowtorch. He was literally paralyzed, and excruciatingly painful muscle spasms shot through his body Coughing and gasping for breath, he felt himself being pulled across the floor. His hands were wrenched together. Through the howl of the jet engine in his ears, he heard the phone being ripped from the wall and felt the phone cord looping around his wrists and being knotted tightly Then he heard the unsnapping of his holster.
37
It took twenty minutes for Joe Pickett to recover enough from the pepper spray to stand up. His eyes and throat still burned, and it seemed as though most of the liquid in his body had drained out of him in bitter streams through his nose, mouth, and eyes. He leaned against the wall in the hallway next to the telephone that Stewie had ripped from the wall as he left, and tried to shake the fog from his head.
Slowly at first, he regained control of his legs and moved down the hall, clomping unsteadily like Frankenstein's monster. He kept his left shoulder against the plaster for balance until he reached the door to the stairway He descended the stairs one deliberate step at a time and held the rail with both tied hands. The building was empty; the black Ford truck still parked with both doors--and the toolbox--open.
Joe shouldered the overhead door open and stood outside, gasping damp fresh air and blinking back tears from the sting of the pepper spray He turned toward the ranch house, where he presumed Stewie Woods had gone.
The front gate was open and so was the massive front door. Joe entered, stopped, tried to see in the gloom. On the floor was the writhing body of Buster the ranch hand. Buster's hands were covering his face, and he was rolling from side to side, whimpering. Pepper spray, Joe thought. Probably a shot of it from Stewie on the way in and a second shot of it a few minutes ago, judging by the whiff of the spray still hanging in the air.
'If I were a snake I could have bitten you.' Her voice startled Joe, as it had the first time. She was in her chair, its back pushed up against the wall. Her face was cocked to the side and thrust forward at Joe, twisted as if she were confronting him.
'Did a crazy-looking man just come in here?' Joe asked, his voice still thick with mucus.
Ginger Finotta raised her thin arm, pointing a gnarled finger past Joe's ear.
'They went outside together,' she said, her voice high and grating. 'Tom Horn is in our bunkhouse!'
Joe stopped. Tom Horn?
'You mean Charlie Tibbs.'
'He's in our bunkhouse!' she repeated. 'Someone shot him!'
Joe tried to focus on her face, but couldn't. Her face swam in his vision. 'That was me,' Joe coughed. 'I shot him.' He wished he could see her face to gauge her reaction. But he heard it.
'Bravo, young man,' she squawked. 'Hanging a man like Tom Horn would have been a waste of good rope.'
