I glanced over at Al as he suddenly found DCI’s proceedings of great interest. “Do you have a rifle in your truck?”
“Um, no.”
“Get Vic’s. 243. Just because we don’t know where George Esper is, doesn’t mean somebody else doesn’t.”
The drive down the mountain wasn’t too bad; the only place where there was ice was on the flats, where the wind had continually applied a fresh coat of melting snow. Any other time, swooping over the gentle hills of the high meadow was a mind-freeing experience, but my mind snagged on the teepee signs for the campgrounds in the Bighorn National Forest. Henry was right, there had been no Indians on the jury.
On Wednesday, the jury had come in dressed up and, in the back hallways, we all thought that after eight days of deliberation we were close to a verdict. I still remember the look on all of our faces when the red light went on. The family members took their seats in the first three rows, quietly, like it was church, as if how little noise they made would have an affect on their loved ones’ fate: the Espers, the Pritchards, and Mrs. Keller in the front row, Jim Keller never attending; Lonnie Little Bird in the aisle with his trusting smile, the chrome on his wheelchair seeming shiny and out of place. Then there were the defendants, three of them smirking and Bryan Keller looking sad.
“Please rise.” Vern’s voice was steady and carried the patrician quality that resonated that fervent prayer, that desperate plea for justice. Whose justice we were about to find out. Bryan closed his eyes, Jacob and George remained emotionless, and Cody glared. Cody Pritchard was found guilty of two counts of first-degree aggravated sexual assault; one count was for assaulting a mentally defective woman, and the other was for using force or coercion in that assault. He was also found guilty of conspiracy in the second degree. Jacob Esper, same verdict. George Esper was found guilty of one count of aggravated sexual assault in the second degree and was guilty of second-degree conspiracy. Bryan Keller was acquitted of the more serious charges but was found guilty of second- degree conspiracy.
After Vern was through reading the verdict, Cody leaned over to Jacob and whispered something; they both laughed. I felt like going over there. I made a mental note to keep a closer eye on them from then on and, if possible, to take a personal interest in their miseries. Sentencing was set for three weeks. All four were released with nominal bail and, after two years of freedom following their crime, they were set free again.
When I made the final sweep of the now closed courtroom, there was only one person left. “Quite a show. Mm, hmm, yes. It is so.”
I stood there in my cotton-poly-blend uniform, looked past him at the cheap paneling on the walls, and felt the fraud of human institutions. His eyes wouldn’t let me go, wouldn’t let me usher him out and get it all over with, so I went and sat on the armrest of the chair in front of him. He smiled, looking through the thick lenses in his glasses, and patted my leg. “Long day?”
I smiled back. “Yep.”
He looked around, his hand remaining on my leg. “Doesn’t take long for everybody to get out of here, huh?”
“No.”
“Mm. Not like on the television.”
“Is there somebody here to help you, Lonnie?”
“Oh, yes. Arbutus has gone to get the car.”
“Do you need help getting down?”
“Oh, no. I use the elevator.” We sat there in silence, as the radiators ticked and groaned. His eyes drifted down to the gun that also rested on my leg. “Those boys?” I waited. “They went home?”
I cleared my throat. “Yep, Lonnie. They did.”
His eyes remained on my gun. “You will go and get them?”
I paused. “They’ll be right back here in three weeks to be sentenced. That’s when Vern decides what will happen to them now that they are guilty.”
His eyes came up, and he looked profound. “That judge, yes, he looks like Ronald Colman. Mm, hmm. It is so.”
By the time I reached the office, I had worked myself into a righteous rage, and I wheeled into the parking lot, the Bullet sliding to a stop. My emotional state was not improved when I saw Turk’s car sitting next to the door. He came out of the office as I got out of the truck, his thumbs hitched in his gun belt as he came down the steps. I noticed how big he was, how young. “Damn, you keep drivin’ like that, and I’m gonna have to…”
He didn’t see it coming, nobody would have. He was used to my irascible moods and just thought he had caught the sheriff at a bad time. He had. I brought my hand up in a full-reach swipe that caught the side of his head and propelled it face first into the quarter panel of the Thunder Chicken, as my right boot scooped his feet out from under him. The impact was thunderous on the hollow flank of the car, and the dent it left was substantial. He didn’t get up but lay there beside the rear wheel, a small pool of blood spreading from the side of his downturned face.
I stepped over his legs and rolled him to one side, brushing away his hat and grabbing his shirtfront, pulling his face up close to mine. “If you ever harm a prisoner in my jail again…” But he wasn’t listening, he was out. I held his head there for a moment and then gently laid it down on the concrete. I felt sick. It was from the adrenaline, or at least I blamed it on that. It always hit me afterwards. I would have to walk it off. I became aware of some movement behind me as I stood and stepped away and continued up the steps and into my office. Whoever it was that had walked up had evidently decided that whatever they had to do with me wasn’t that important.
The door to the office was open when I got there. Ruby held the knob with her other hand over her heart, her eyes wider than I had ever seen them. “Oh, my Lord…”
I breezed past her into the reception area and almost collided with Lucian. He teetered back and nearly fell as I caught him and stood him upright. I figured a good offense was the best defense. “You got something to say?”
His face broke into a broad grin. “Damn, what a lick!”
I left him there and continued down the hallway, through the door, and into the jail’s holding cells. I slammed the door back, stormed through the open cubicle, and sat myself on one of the bunks, my back thumping against the wall as I clutched my shaking hands together and set my jaw. I concentrated on my hands, willing them to stop; it took a while. My breathing was returning to normal, and the flushed feeling was starting to fade. I licked my lips and exhaled, trying to push the rest of the adrenaline through my flooded blood stream. I hated it, I hated seeing it, I hated hearing about it, and I hated doing it. I brought my head up to find a terrified Bryan Keller looking at me from the other bunk. I wasn’t quite sure what to say. He was crouched in the corner with his legs pulled up and his arms wrapped around them; only his eyes were visible over the kneecaps.
We listened as the commotion from the reception area carried down the hallway and bounced off the masonry walls. I had no idea you could hear everything so well from the cells. The front door was closed, but there was a scooting of chairs and a murmuring of voices. You could hear Lucian’s voice above the others, “Bring ’im on in here, Ladies Wear…” More murmuring and voices, “How you like them apples, you little son of a bitch? You try and get up, and I’ll kick your ass so far…” It trailed off with the roaring in my ears. It was like being underwater and, for a few moments, I floated there, letting the sinking feeling in the middle of my shoulders wash over me. I was tired.
A while later, Henry peered around the divider. His hair hung down, and his face looked at me sideways.
I took off my hat and placed it on the bunk beside me, running my hands over my face. “What?” It would appear that not all the adrenaline was gone.
“Nothing.”
I sat there for a moment. “He all right?”
He stepped around the divider and ducked his head to look through the bars. “He will never play the violin with his nose again, if that is what you mean.”
“Better call the EMTs.”
“He is already gone; Ruby has taken him to the hospital. It seemed to be the best thing, since his uncle would not stop kicking him.”
I waited. “You think I overreacted?”
He shook his head in mock earnest. “Oh, no. It seemed like a perfectly reasonable response to someone
