side, and noticed the old pickup parked not far away, and the two men who occupied the cab. He went to the pickup and leaned in the window.
“Junior,” he said. “Phil. What’s up?”
The smell of beer came from inside the cab where Junior and Philbert Medina sat. The two men were relatives of Dorothy Winter Moon, her mother’s sister’s husband’s children from a first marriage. They were both mechanics in their father’s garage in Brandywine, the other rez community. Junior wore a ball cap over his long black hair. Phil kept his own hair in a buzz cut. Both men cradled rifles on their laps and each had a can of Budweiser clamped in a free hand. They gave Cork big, stupid grins.
“Just getting ready for a little deer hunting,” Junior said.
“Deer?”
“Yeah,” Phil put in. “Waiting for a fat buck to come strolling onto the rez.”
“Helping Dot out, are you?”
“That’s what family’s for, cousin.” On the reservation, everyone was cousin.
“You know, I’d feel a lot better if you’d put away either the beer or the rifles.” Cork paused a moment, then added, “You ought to put away both.”
“What are you going to do? Arrest us?” Junior laughed.
Cork turned away and walked to the Blazer.
“Morning, Solemn.”
“Hey, Cork.” Solemn kept his eyes straight ahead.
“I’m guessing you already heard that Kane’s looking for you.”
“I heard.”
“And Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee over there are your answer?”
“Phil and Junior were my idea.”
Dorothy Winter Moon had come from LeDuc’s store with a sack of groceries in her arms. She wore sunglasses against the glare of the bright morning sunlight. She stepped around Cork and opened the Blazer’s back door.
“This isn’t a good idea, Dot.”
“You got a better one?” She set the grocery bag on the backseat and shut the door.
“Go to Henry Meloux, Solemn,” Cork said. “You’ll be safe with him, and maybe he can help in other ways.”
“I can take care of my son,” Dot said.
Cork looked at Solemn. “Is this what you want?”
Solemn didn’t seem to hear. The two Medinas laughed at something, a loud and grating sound.
“Don’t let go of it, Solemn,” Cork said.
Solemn slowly turned his head, and Cork saw the hardness in his eyes.
“Let go of what?” Solemn said.
“What you found out there in the woods. That feeling. That belief.”
Solemn regarded him for a long time. “What if it wasn’t real?”
“Sometimes believing is all it takes to make a thing real.”
“That boy in the wheelchair, his folks, they believed.”
Dot scanned the street as if any moment she expected that Kane would leap out of the shadows in ambush. “We need to get back to Sam’s cabin.” She circled around the front of the Blazer and got in on the passenger side. “Let’s go, Solemn.”
Cork reached through the window and put his hand on the young man’s arm. “Go to Meloux.”
Solemn didn’t answer. He started the engine and, when Cork withdrew his hand, backed onto the street and headed north out of Alouette. The Medinas followed in their truck.
Cork looked at the dust kicked up in Solemn’s wake and wondered about the comment Gooding had made earlier. Maybe he did believe in Solemn’s innocence simply because he wanted to believe. Was that enough to make it so?
31
At nine o’clock that evening, Cork said, “Let’s close ’er up, Annie.”
It was Friday night, and they’d had a steady stream of customers for hours. Cork was tired.
Annie turned from the serving window, which was empty at the moment. “You know, you’d make a lot more money if we stayed open late, Dad.”
“I don’t want to work late. Do you?”
“Not especially.”
“Well there you are. We’d both rather be poor but happy. Let’s get the place cleaned up.”
Half an hour later, Annie walked to the door of the Quonset hut. “See you at home.”
“I’m going to put the night deposit together. If you wait a few minutes, I’ll give you a ride.”
“It’s a nice night,” Annie said. “I think I’ll walk.”
“Suit yourself.”
The evening sky was sapphire. Cork walked to the door and watched Annie head toward town, following the path along the lakeshore toward the copse of poplars that enclosed the ruins of the old foundry. The trees were dark against the fading light, and Annie, against the horizon, was dark, too, and small and lovely. There were moments like this when Cork felt absolutely full, overflowing with love for his life, his family, his friends, this place he called home. He felt all that was familiar wrap around him like an old, comfortable quilt, and he didn’t know how a man could be any luckier.
When he’d finished preparing the deposit, he locked up Sam’s Place and headed into town. After the money was safely in the bank’s keeping, Cork drove Center Street for a while. It was a busy evening. The streets were alive with traffic, teenagers and tourists and locals taking advantage of the summer night. Cork was looking for Kane’s El Dorado, but he didn’t see it, and in a way he was relieved.
He’d just turned on Olive Street to head home when his cell phone chirped.
“Cork, it’s Jo. Where are you?”
He heard the concern in her voice.
“On my way home. What is it?”
“It’s Annie. She’s pretty upset. She’s sure someone stalked her after she left Sam’s Place.”
“I’ll be right there.”
They were in the kitchen, the three O’Connor women, Jo, Jenny, and Annie. Annie sat at the table with a glass of milk in front of her and an uneaten cookie. Jenny had pulled up a chair next to her. Jo sat across the table. They all glanced up when Cork came in. Jo and Jenny looked worried. Annie looked scared.
“Hey, sweetheart, how’re you doing?” He bent and kissed the top of Annie’s head. Her hair still smelled of hot fry oil.
“Dad, some creep followed me home.”
Cork pulled out a chair and seated himself. “Tell me everything from the beginning.”
It was dark outside. The bulb over the sink was on. Night insects bumped against the screen trying desperately to get at the light.
Annie played with her cookie, turning it round and round on the table. Occasionally, her eyes flicked toward the bump and brush of the bugs at the window.
“I saw him the first time in the trees where the old foundry is. He was, like, crouching behind part of that brick wall that’s still there.”
“Why do you think it was a him?”
“I guess I didn’t then. When I saw him the next time, I was pretty sure.”
“Where was that?”
“In Randolph Park. I was walking along the trail that cuts through the ball fields and over the culvert. He was there in the trees along the creek.”
