had his legs.
They sat in their seats. Joe could barely concentrate on the proceedings.
But he heard it when Dulcie Schalk said to Judge Hewitt, “The prosecution would like to call Bud Longbrake Sr. to the stand.”
Bud
Joe found himself grimacing as his old employer and ex-father-in-law slowly made his way up the center aisle of the courtroom. Instead of sixty, Bud looked eighty. He was stooped and drawn, and his suit, which Joe remembered from Bud and Missy’s wedding six years ago, hung loose and baggy on him. The collar of Bud’s Western dress shirt gaped at least an inch. He peered out of it like a turtle looking out of its shell, Joe thought, and Bud’s pants hung around his legs. Bud held his Stetson in his right hand, and reached out with his left from chair top to chair top for balance as he proceeded toward the bench.
“My God,” Marybeth whispered. “Look what’s happened to him.”
Joe was surprised when Bud glanced over as he passed. His eyes were rheumy and unfocused, but for a split second Joe could see the man he remembered somewhere in that shell. Bud seemed to acknowledge the spark of recognition.
Joe nodded his head slightly. Bud nodded back.
It took a minute for Bud to get settled into the witness stand. He didn’t seem to know what to do with his hat. Schalk gently took it from him and put it on the prosecution table. Now there was a cowboy hat on both tables and it looked, Joe thought, like Wyoming.
After he’d been sworn in, Schalk asked Bud to state his name and address.
“Bud C. Longbrake Sr. I live at 2090 Main Street, here in Saddlestring. Apartment A. It’s called that on account as it’s the only apartment above the Stockman’s Bar.” His voice was familiar but tinny.
Joe heard a titter among the bar regulars behind him.
He leaned over to Marybeth. He whispered, “It’s more than the Jim Beam and hard living. There’s something really wrong with him.”
Marybeth nodded in agreement. Unconsciously, she was lacing and unlacing her fingers on her lap. Joe couldn’t tell if the reason for her anxiety was because of Bud’s appearance, her mother’s trial, the offer just made, or all three.
For the next ten minutes, Schalk patiently referred to her legal pad and established Bud Longbrake for the jury. His history in the county, the marriage to Missy Vankueren, the divorce and the loss of his ranch, the restraining order Missy had placed on him. Bud answered each item simply, but the time it took him to respond to each question dragged on longer each time. The long silences seemed to add to the tension in the courtroom. Joe noticed spectators glancing at each other, wondering if Bud was up for this. Joe wondered the same thing.
Schalk signaled to Jack Pym to cue the PowerPoint projector, and once again the list of phone calls between Bud and Missy was shown.
She said, “This document was produced by the phone company. It lists a series of telephone calls between your cell phone and the main landline at the Thunderhead Ranch or from Missy Alden’s private cell phone. Do you recall the telephone conversations that took place?”
Joe noticed that Bud hadn’t turned his head to look at the screen.
“Mr. Longbrake?” Schalk asked gently. “Can you please turn your attention to the screen?”
As if suddenly awakened, Bud jerked on the stand and swung his head over at the list, squinting.
Judge Hewitt cleared his throat and held up an outstretched palm to Schalk to wait on the next question. Hewitt said, “Mr. Longbrake, are you all right to continue? You seem to have a little bit of trouble focusing on the proceedings here. Do you need a glass of water or a break before we continue?”
Bud looked dolefully at Hewitt. “Nah, Judge, I’m okay,” he said.
“You’re sure?”
“Yep,” Bud said. Then: “I’m real sorry, but sometimes I kind of fade in and out. I think it’s getting worse. It
Marybeth gasped and dug her fingers into Joe’s knee.
Dulcie Schalk stood her ground, but she was clearly shaken. She shot a murderous look to Sheriff McLanahan that Joe caught. Either she wasn’t aware of the tumor, or McLanahan—who had supervised the depositions—had downplayed its effect on Bud to her.
“I have good days and bad days,” Bud continued, “and believe it or not, this is one of the good days. I’m okay. Sometimes I just need things repeated, is all.”
Hewitt’s face softened as Bud talked. He said, “Then let’s continue.” To Schalk, he said, “Please keep Mr. Longbrake’s condition in mind as we proceed.”
“I will, Your Honor,” she said.
“Please repeat the question,” Hewitt said.
She asked him again if he recalled the phone conversations.
He said, “Yep. Every damned one of ’em.”
Joe, despite himself, sighed with relief. Bud seemed to be back, at least temporarily.
Schalk was also visibly relieved. She looked down at her pad for her next question. As always, she was
