was another part of the reason she was doing this.
There was no telling how genuine her concern for me was, and I didn't want to come right out and suggest that Balcomb and Kirk might have been involved in something illicit. I decided to try sneaking up to it.
'So when Balc-your husband-blew up this morning, it was about Kirk?' I said.
'I don't know what it was about.' Her curtness dead-ended the probe. 'Are you friends with him?'
'We've known each other a long time. I wouldn't call us friends.'
'Of course I hope nothing bad happened to him, but he creeps me out,' she said. 'I started to get the feeling he was almost stalking me.'
She'd have been a lot more than creeped out if she'd suspected how close to the truth she was.
We coasted down the Sixth Avenue hill and crossed Last Chance Gulch. Downtown was as quiet as an old photograph, with nothing open but the bars and nobody moving on the streets. The truck, of its own accord, climbed the next hill toward the west side and the grand old houses that Celia had loved.
'Well, thanks for the heads-up,' I said. 'I admit I don't know what to do about it.'
'You're not going to leave here?'
'I would, but I can't.'
'Funny,' she said quietly. 'It's the same with me.'
'You mean leaving your husband?'
She nodded.
'Can't or won't?' I said.
She held up her hand palm first to silence any more questions. I realized I was crossing a line.
'I'll try to help,' she said. 'I'll watch him like a hawk. If I think he's up to something I'll call you. So answer your damned phone, OK?'
'Yes, ma'am.'
'Where were you all morning?'
I was startled at her sudden, out-of-the-blue left turn-and I imagined a hint of jealousy in her tone.
'Sweating out a hangover,' I said. 'Cutting firewood.'
She sniffed. 'How manly.' Then her voice took on the teasing tone she'd left me with yesterday. 'By the way, I haven't forgiven you for not being honest with me.'
'Who told you about my old life?' I said.
'I have my sources.'
I pulled the truck over to the curb and swung around to face her.
'More to the point, why'd you ask?' I said. 'Why are you bothering with me?'
Maybe I spoke more strongly than I meant to. Her coquettish look vanished, and she pressed back against the door, turning her face aside again.
'I feel drawn to you,' she said. 'You seem so at home here, in a way. But really, you're not at home anywhere.'
'I guess I don't see the draw in that,' I said.
'Maybe I should have put it differently. A kinship.' Her left hand fidgeted to the gearshift, fingers brushing it lightly, then dropped away and returned to clasp her right.
She said, 'I'd better go.'
I started driving again, this time back toward her car.
'These old houses are so beautiful up here,' she murmured. 'Don't you wish you lived in one?'
It was the kind of thing anybody would have thought.
26
Laurie hadn't told me much that I didn't already know. I was still skeptical about her motives, and I had a strong sense that she'd evaded my question about what had set Balcomb off this morning. But she'd convinced me that I'd damned well better keep him on my radar until I was sure he was really done with me. Then there was Gary Varna nosing around.
All together, it got me thinking that as long as I had time on my hands, I'd be wise to find out as much as I could about what was going on behind the scenes. Information might be my best defense, and possibly my only one.
I decided to start with somebody who'd be easy to approach-Elmer Stenlund, the ranking cowboy at Pettyjohn Ranch, who'd been present yesterday at my confrontation with Balcomb. Elmer was an old friend, rock solid in all ways, and I was sure he was sympathetic to my situation. He'd lived on the ranch most of his life until it was sold; then he'd bought a little house near Scratchgravel Hills. The new place was closer to town and easy to maintain, and with his kids gone and his wife having died a few years back, he was glad for neighbors. But I knew that the real reason he'd moved was that he didn't like Balcomb any more than I did.
Still, I was a shade uneasy. Elmer had been Reuben Pettyjohn's right-hand man since before I was born, with a connection and loyalty that went so deep they were impossible to fathom. For sure, he'd know by now that Kirk had disappeared. If he'd also heard that there was a shadow over me, that might change things. But if so, he'd be straight about it; and as stock manager, he was my best bet for finding out where those slaughtered horses had come from.
I found a phone booth on Euclid, the long commercial strip that became the highway west to Missoula. As I got out of my truck, I realized I'd subconsciously picked a place that was clear across town from the phone where I'd called Balcomb. It was silly, but that was the way I was starting to think.
'Elmer, it's Hugh,' I said when he picked up. 'How's it going?'
'I'm OK. How about you?'
'I've been better. Things were settling down. But now there's trouble over Kirk.'
'Yeah, I talked to Reuben a couple times. I'd of figured he was out chasing tail, but I guess he still ain't turned up.'
'I've got a feeling I'm a suspect, Elmer. Gary Varna came to my place and grilled me pretty good.'
His pause was so shocked I could almost hear it. It came as a relief.
'The hell,' he said. 'Where's he getting that?'
'Because of the flap yesterday, mainly. Kirk standing guard on me with that rifle.'
'Aw, for Christ's sake. Nobody'd take him that serious-it's just Kirk.'
My relief deepened.
'There's some other strange stuff going on I'd like to run by you,' I said. 'OK if I swing out there for a few minutes?'
'Sure, I ain't doing nothing. Watching one of them ball games where nobody ever gets a hit. Pitchers' duel, I guess they call them.'
'Well, if you're feeling restless, how about I buy you a drink?'
'You know, that don't sound too bad,' he said. 'I got a few things I could stand to take care of in town anyway.'
'When's good?'
'Oh-why don't you give me an hour, maybe a little more.'
'Red Meadow?' I said, naming his favorite watering hole.
'That'll do 'er. See you there.'
It was just three o'clock. I wouldn't have time to check out other possibilities, and I was too owly to do anything practical like buying groceries. I was tempted to go straight to the Red Meadow and get a head start, but that was a bad idea.
I got back in my truck and drove on west to where the town pretty much ended and the Rockies started. Then I turned off to the veterans' cemetery at Fort Harrison.
Laurie's words about not feeling at home anywhere kept resonating in my head. Until yesterday, I'd considered myself about as well off as a man could be-broke, maybe, but free in all the ways that counted, at least to me. I had good health, a marketable skill, a place to live that was all my own, and, above all, I wasn't beholden
