“It’s healing up, and I’m getting off it again in a minute. I can work on some tack, but if I work back here, Sundown’s going to sulk.”
“He’s already sulking.”
“See?”
“All right, I’ll give you a hand. We’ll set you up a workstation. You ought to leave his door open if you’re going to be right there. It’ll make him feel less confined.”
“Good idea. What are you doing back here?”
“We’ll get to that in a minute.”
Together they dragged out a small table, a taller stool, a bucket of water, cloths, sponges, brushes, oils.
“What did Bickers say?”
“Healing clean. She doesn’t want a saddle or anybody up on him for at least another week, and not until she clears it. But I can take him out, walk him around some. Already did. I got her list of dos and don’ts, and she’ll come by again tomorrow.”
“How about the two-legged stud?”
At least that got a fleeting smile out of him. “Pretty much the same as Sundown. I can go back to work Monday, maybe tomorrow for a few hours. She expects me not to be stupid and make her regret clearing that, and agreeing I don’t need a people doctor. Now, did you come back just to see if we were being stupid?”
“No. Go on and sit down. You were limping more on that last haul. Tate’s over at the BAC talking to Easy.”
“Easy? About what?”
“About seeing Clintok riding his ATV yesterday, about an hour before you and Sundown were shot. Riding along Bear Paw.”
“Is that so?” He said it slowly, coolly. But his eyes flashed hot blue under the storm gray. “How did Easy know it was Clintok?”
Staying steady, Bodine thought. For now. “He recognized him—goggles, no helmet. And the sheriff asked him to describe the ATV. I don’t know Clintok’s ATV, but I bet the sheriff does. Smaller than what we use, and a camo design. Easy was leading a trail ride. The guests saw him, too, and Tate, I expect, will talk to them, do the corroboration.”
“Looks like I owe Easy more than a beer,” Callen said, and began to take a bridle apart for cleaning.
“Curtis—that would be Deputy Curtis Bowie, you might remember him—is taking pictures where it happened. I can’t say, but I think I know Tate well enough to speculate he’s already talked to Clintok, and got a denial. But now there are witnesses who put Clintok on resort property, and in an area that leads up to where it makes good sense for sniping down on a horse and rider on Black Angus.”
Nodding, as if they discussed casual dinner plans, Callen hung the bridle from a hook, began cleaning it with a clean, damp cloth. “It might be enough.”
“I’d put money it’s enough for Tate to fire him, and I hope it’s enough to arrest him. I can say, because I know you well enough, if he’s not behind bars you’ll handle him yourself.”
Callen said nothing, just kept cleaning tack.
“I’m going to ask you for one thing. Just one.”
“I can try to give it to you.”
“When you go to handle him, you tell me. I’ll keep a beer cold for when you get back.”
Setting the cloth down, Callen looked up now. “I’ve got a powerful feeling for you, Bodine. Knocks me sideways about half the time.”
“It could be getting shot in the leg that does that.”
“Nope.” After moistening the saddle soap, wetting a sponge, he rubbed some into a light lather. “Want to go out to a fancy dinner?”
She started to push back her hat, then remembered she wasn’t wearing it. “You’re going from kicking the shit out of Clintok to fancy dinners?”
“I’m not much for them myself, but I find I want to see how I like having one with you.” As he had with the cloth, Callen patiently, thoroughly soaped the leather. “Get all dressed up, maybe order some snooty French wine.” His gaze flicked up to hers. “You wanna do that?”
“I’ve never been much for fancy dinners, either, but I wouldn’t mind trying one with you. Once you’re all the way healed up.”
“That’s a deal. If—all right, when—I decide to go after Clintok, I’ll tell you.”
Satisfied on all counts, Bodine squeezed his shoulder, gave Sundown a quick rub. “I’ve got to get back. Do you want me to have somebody bring you a cold drink?”
“I’ve got an invitation to lunch at the big house. We’re fine till then.”
He kept cleaning tack when she left, methodically, while Sundown watched.
“They might put him behind bars. They might put him behind them long enough to square it for us. If not, well, I’ll square it for us.” He reached up, rubbed Sundown’s cheek. “That’s a promise.”
*
Tate got his statements, got his pictures, and however heavy it sat on him, accepted his duty.
He drove to Clintok’s, the cabin tucked away on his family’s ranch. Clintok’s truck and ATV sat under an open shelter attached to the cabin, just as they’d been when Tate had gone by the night before.
And just as he had the night before, Clintok stepped out of the cabin onto the narrow porch.
He wore sweatpants, a sweatshirt ripped off at the elbows, and a skin of sweat. Tate concluded he’d been pumping iron for a while, one of Clintok’s favorite pastimes.
“Garrett.”
“Sheriff. Curtis,” he added when the deputy got out the passenger door. “What can I do for you?”
“Well, Garrett, it’s like this. You have the right to remain silent—”
“What the hell bullshit is this?”
Tate just continued reading off the Miranda warning. “We all know you understand your rights, but do you want to confirm that?”
“Fuck you.”
When Clintok turned away, yanked open the cabin door, Curtis moved in. “Come on now, Garrett, don’t go making it harder than it is.”
He made it harder by slamming a fist into Curtis’s jaw. Cursing, Tate surged forward to help Curtis muscle Clintok to the ground.
“You’re under goddamn arrest,” Tate snapped. “Get those cuffs on him, Curtis, goddamn it. Resisting arrest, striking a police officer.”
“I am a police officer.”
“Not anymore you’re not. You’re under arrest for discharging a firearm on private property, and for attempted murder.”
“You’re out of your fucking mind.”
“I got witnesses, for Christ’s sake.” Together they dragged Clintok to his feet. “I’m adding lying to a police officer to the list. When I came by here yesterday you said you hadn’t had that ATV out in a week. And it was as clean as a whistle. Just washed clean. I’ve got witnesses, damn it to hell and back, Garrett, who saw you riding it on the resort, saw you heading it up on the road above Black Angus.”
“Skinner’s a goddamn liar.”
“Six people saw you. Six. And we got the bullet Bickers dug out of that horse.” That was a lie, but Tate was done with playing fair. “When we test your long guns, get ballistics done, what do you think we’re going to find?”
He saw it, the panic, the flush of fury, the quick cut away of the eyes. “I want a lawyer. I want a lawyer now. I’ve got nothing to say.”