Lonny and his two friends had made the dike and used all their strength opening the flood gates then ran off toward a copse of trees. There, in a small arroyo, they flopped to the ground and panted for breath as they heard shouts and the sound of feet running toward the dike. Lonny lay looking at the stars through the branches and started to laugh. It was just too damn funny. Old Judd Gans was probably treading water in another county by now.
'We'd better get home, Lonny,' Hank said, getting to his feet.
Lonny looked up at him. 'Hank, you ain't any smarter than Judd. I oughta throw you in the ditch with him. Come on,' he said, getting to his feet.
'Where we going?' Fred asked.
Lonny put his hands on his hips and looked disgusted. 'We're going to the dike and help close it because of what them damn vandals did. Probably them hippies, I bet. Come on,' he said, kicking Fred with his foot, 'get on your feet. We stay away and they might suspect us. Besides, that dike is hard to close once it's open and all that water is giving Judd Gans a bath.'
They hurried across the field, laughing and giggling, toward the men with flashlights and lanterns who were laboring to close the dike while a few hundred yards down the drainage ditch they could hear Judd doing some loud, righteous cussing.
The day came and, on the surface, it was indistinguishable from any other day at the camp. Men ate hasty breakfasts and piled, sleepy, joking, into trucks that would drive them to the fields where they would bend in the hot sun all day long. Women said good-bye to their men and scolded the children who ran around screeching at one another. Judd Gans stood by his pickup truck, glowering at each of the workers. Somewhere, there were enemies. The men kidded him, giving him sly smiles with a few of them pretending to swim up into the trucks. Just as one truck was pulling away, a voice called, 'Glug, glug, glug!' and the men roared while Judd glared.
Wilma went down to the admissions office to tell Tina all about it. Tina clucked her tongue and allowed as 'How a body ain't safe in their own home no more.'
Sheriff Lucas Lamont came rocking off the highway in his car and eased himself out, putting on his Stetson hat and sunglasses. He was a tall lean man with a face tanned the color and consistency of old leather. Deep lines bracketed his mouth and fanned out from the corners of his eyes. His walk was slow and careful and he wasn't known as the most talkative man in the county. He examined all the evidence, listened to both the Gans with politeness and only grunted at their questions.
He trudged out to the drainage ditch and stood with his hands in his hip pockets, looking down at the water still lying there and grinned at Judd. 'Looks like they outfoxed you, Judd.'
'Did you get elected sheriff just to tell me that?'
Lucas directed a jet of tobacco juice down into the ditch. 'Look at the bright side of it.'
'How's that?' Judd hitched his pants.
'Least you got a good bath.'
Lucas and Judd walked back to camp with Lucas trying not to laugh, talking about the crops to change the subject.
At Judd's pickup truck, joined by Wilma who stood by her husband, a loyal wife, Judd said, 'Well, what are you going to do?'
Lucas tipped his hat to Wilma, shifted his wad of tobacco and said, 'Do? Well, I think I just might go have a cup of coffee with Tina.'
Whatever Lucas Lamont was, he was a good cop. He knew his job and did it well with a minimum of trouble. He knew the people of his county and acted accordingly. And he knew the migrant workers and how they had to, sooner or later, let off a little steam. He knew when to arrest a man for being drunk and when to give them a nights sleep in a warm cell. And, knowing that working men drinking together are going to fight sooner or later, he kept violence at a minimum by instinctively zeroing in on the one guy who was making all the trouble and ending the offender's night with a straight right to the mouth or, when he thought the argument was valid and the men evenly matched, he wisely looked the other way, letting them all get some steam off.
He knew the life of a field hand is hard and the prospects for getting ahead pretty slim so he allowed some illegal practices to take place: like moonshining and gambling and, yes, one whorehouse. Yet, he ruled them firmly, giving one and all holy hell and trouble for months whenever they strayed out of line. Laconically, his pale blue eyes hid behind his trooper's sunglasses, he would say, 'Every man has to have something in his life. Men are going to drink, bet, fight, and whore no matter what anyone does or says. Better I know where they're doing it and just how much.'
Short of keeping an eye on the Gans' place, Lucas wasn't about to do anything else. In reality, there wasn't anything he could do. Besides, something was wrong, Judd either didn't have all the facts or was lying. And Wilma. Wilma was sure different this morning. Tired looking and kind of jumpy. Yet happy. Happier than Lucas had seen her in a long while.
Nervous too. When they were talking by the pickup truck Lucas noticed Wilma stiffen suddenly by Judd's side and glance nervously over his shoulder at something behind him.
'Well, what are you going to do?'
Lucas tipped his hat to Wilma, shifted his wad of tobacco and said, 'Do?' And he played the hayseed sheriff, taking off his Stetson and scratching his head as he slouched and turned to see what spooked Wilma. Behind him was a brand new camper he had noticed when he drove into the camp. He made a practice of memorizing the license plates of any new car or truck in his jurisdiction.
But it wasn't the sight of a camper that startled Wilma. It was the sight of a white-faced young girl getting out of the camper, looking up and seeing them standing these and putting her hand to her mouth and backing into the camper and closing the door. And the look on the girl's face. Lucas had seen that look before. He turned back to the Gans and grinned. 'Do? Well, I think I just might go have a cup of coffee with Tina.'
'Is that what we pay your salary for?' Judd asked, getting into his pickup and slamming the door.
Lucas kicked some gravel at his feet. 'Stay out of ditches, Judd… Mrs. Gans.' He tipped his Stetson and walked over to the admissions office to have a cup of coffee and jaw awhile with Tina. Tina was a good broad and, if he got her yakking, she'd give him all the dirt for a few miles around.
There had been too many foot prints around the den window outside the Gans' house. And a wood box had been dragged from the kitchen door to the window. The breaking and entering job looked like an amateur job and kind of hasty. Any burglar worth his salt would check a house carefully before trying to break in. Besides, he was pretty darn sure that there weren't any cat-burglars and the word was out that he was mean and unreasonable when it came to breaking and entering cases and his county was a good place to pass through without stopping.
And that girl in the camper was a stranger and that look she gave him told him she was in some kind of trouble. He swung into the admissions office with his Stetson slung low over his eyes, grinning at Tina with a freckled smile. 'Tina, if you've changed your socks lately, I'll have a cup of that stuff you call coffee.'
Latin Tina, fresh from a good workout the night before, lowered her long dark lashes and shook a shoulder at him. 'Here's Lucas, the sweet-talking sheriff.'
Lucas was right about Beth, she was in trouble. She had slept through the night and all the running and yelling and the gunshot like she was a stone. She had slept, exhausted even when Wilma had come back into the room and covered her more completely and hid the rubber dildoe she had so expertly brought the girl to orgasm with and straightened everything up. She had slept through Judd storming into the house soaking wet; she had slept through his profane harangue as he stood dripping in a puddle and shook his fist at whoever it was that had made such a fool of him.
She had slept, her only movement the deep, steady rise and fall of her breasts, until, near dawn, she had slowly opened her eyes and lay staring, wide awake, without moving. She stayed that way for a long time, staring up without moving or blinking. It was in her eyes, it was a kind of sun-seared look. She seemed to be staring inward rather than outward.
After lying still for a long time, she slowly looked around, accepting the reality of being in the den, a strange room, with a sad acceptance. It was true. It wasn't a dream. She got out of bed slowly, every muscle in her body
