The Truck Comes

on Thursday

A Loni Wagner Mystery

By

Sue Hardesty

The Truck Comes on Thursday
Lesbian Fiction: Mystery

Copyright © 2011 by Sue Hardesty
All rights reserved. 1

eBook ISBN:  978-1-934889-81-7
Printed ISBN:  978-1-934889-82-4
Audio eBook ISBN:  978-1-934889-83-1
(Audio sold only at http://L-Book.com)

First Edition
eBook, Print, Audio Format
Published: October 2011

This book is Published by
L-Book ePublisher, LLC
La Quinta, Ca. USA
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Editor:  Alexa Hoffman

Cover Design by Sheri

I savored every carefully chosen word of this novel. It's fine stuff and the stories are truly priceless. Some of the passages are lyrically beautiful in the way of the desert, and the entire book portrays parts of the Native American culture and the American West with great affection. The pictures Sue Hardesty creates are rich with detail, yet I was caught up in the tale of a hurting police officer come home to start a new. "  ~~ Lee Lynch

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Acknowledgments

To my best bud Lee Lynch, whose kind nudging inspired me to finish this book. To my dear friends Taylor West and Lynn Evarts, who suffered through vetting every page. And most of all, to my editor and wonderful forever partner Nel Ward, who decided I didn’t have enough to do and so insisted I write something! Here is the result. Peace.

The Truck Comes on Thursday

CHAPTER 1

July 1, 4:48 a.m.

LONI, YOU THERE? Plane down south end of Wagner Airstrip." The radio crackled with sharp static followed by Bobby's slow, Western drawl. "Your last name. You related?"

"My uncle," Loni answered. "I'm on it." With flashing lights and screaming siren, she sped around an abandoned Shell station and raced along the east end of the small Arizona town of Caliente. Coco pushed against Loni as she whipped her Highway Patrol SUV onto Old Highway 85. Fishtailing out of the turn, she grabbed the dog's brown wooly body, holding on tight. "How'd you get so heavy?"

The standard poodle panted in her ear, dripping drool on her bare arm. Sheared down to a bare cover, except for her ears and a small ball on the end of her stub tail, Coco had just enough wool to protect her from sunburn.

Loni shoved the gas pedal to the floor as she raced down the ancient concrete patched road for the next three miles, clickity clacking over the bumps like an old passenger train. She clenched her teeth to keep from biting her tongue. "Jesus," she grumbled to the dog. “Will the department ever get us new shocks?" Grabbing Coco again, they turned off the highway onto a dirt road adjacent to the runway of the air/carport community.

Light filtered into dark places from the breaking dawn outlined spiraling black smoke in the distance. A streak of fear shot through her. Loni's uncle and cousin were airplane mechanics. They could be testing somebody's plane. "Oh god, don't let it be one of them," she prayed. "It's too early for them to be at work." All she could do was hope.

Swirling clouds of hot dust poofed up behind her and followed her to a long line of dense, dark green salt cedar trees clumped so close that only their huge trunks separated them. Fierce flames shot through the black smoke into the sky above the tree line. Loni couldn't stop from repeating, "Don't let it be Daniel or Uncle Herm. Don't let it be Daniel or Uncle Herm."

Rounding the end of the runway, she speed bumped under wrought iron arches, where big letters spelled "Caliente Cemetery" across the top. She slammed to a stop beyond the arches and stared. In the middle of the cemetery, a small plane nestled softly on the remains of a fallen tree. The top of the tree had split from its trunk, cradling the plane as it settled to the ground, exposing the bottom of the naked tree pointing a jagged, crooked finger into the sky.

Both white wings had been ripped from the top of the single engine plane, taking the roof off the cabin with them. One had quickly fizzled to black, the painted numbers eaten away by the flames. Dry green needles of the thirsty tree popped and sputtered as they fed the fire. The other wing hung upside down in a fork near the top of a tree. Diesel fuel dripped down the tree trunk, the overpowering smell stinging her nose and burning her eyes. Trying to stop a sneeze, she rubbed the knot on her nose, a leftover from the last time she broke it.

The propeller of the Cessna 172, twisted like a pretzel, had shoved through the branches of the tree into the ground. "Damn!" Loni said to Coco, glancing around at the scattered and broken tombstones. "How bizarre is this?"

At least there weren't any flames around the smoking engine yet. Panic forced her out of the SUV and toward her uncle’s Ford truck in front of the plane. Relief swept over her as she spotted her uncle and Paul, a high school kid who hung around the hangar, pulling on the crumpled door of the passenger's side. Where was Daniel? Stopping to get a crowbar from the bed of her uncle's big Chevy pickup, she ran to the plane, ducking to avoid the acrid black smoke oozing out of the engine.

"She's still alive!" Uncle Herm shouted in a high, strained voice as he snatched the crowbar. "I saw her hand move."

Eyeing the smoking engine, Loni snaked around tombstones and crawled through branches, pulling her way up to the other side of the plane. Shards of sharp metal from the wing struts gouged her bare arm, leaving a trail of skin and dripping blood as she cursed the short-sleeved summer uniform.

Needles slapping her in the face left a salty taste in her mouth. One pesky branch caught at the gun on her belt, nearly jerking her to the ground. Using the pilot's door handle to pull herself up onto a large limb, she peered into the cabin and paused in relief. It wasn't Daniel. She recognized the school district's superintendent, Rene Garcia.

A buckling of the engine had sandwiched Rene into his seat, and parts of the instrument panel hung in his lap. A tree limb had peeled back the shattered windshield. She felt his neck. No pulse. His open eyes stared back at her, unseeing, and his head was turned at an unnatural angle. The skin was already turning purple. He was done for. Her seven years as a Los Angeles cop had taught her the look of death.

 Leaning back, she studied him, wishing she could forget how much she hated him. His putdown macho bullshit toward the girls in his high school history classes was notorious. Her thoughts flashed on the black papier mâché torso that sat on a file cabinet in his classroom. She could see him even now, sitting at his desk pitching chalk at a slot between the breasts, smirking at the girls as he wiggled his eyebrows up and down, entertaining the boys.

In between writing obscure historical facts on the board, he loved to talk cars. Loni never forgot the day in his class when he said, "I had an old T-bird when I was in high school. Named it the Mayflower. Anybody care to guess why?"

"Because it was so old?" someone ventured.

"No," he said. "It was because so many girls came across in it." Staring at Rene, she could still see his smug smile as he rocked back and forth in his huge padded oak desk chair, cackling. Well he's not cackling now, she thought.

Loni stared beyond him at a young Chicana woman in the other seat, her long, dyed blonde hair covering part of her face. Loni frowned, shaking her head. It was always the blondes for Rene. They made the best grades in his classes. Half breed Indians like her didn't have a chance. He even flunked her once, but then she had called him a pervert. It was worth it.

Loni reached past Rene to check on the woman passenger. Her head was slanted toward Loni, and her eyes were closed. It wasn't Rene's wife. "Who's the woman, Uncle Herm?"

"Name's Rosie something or other. Rene's secretary, I think," he grunted. Loni watched his muscles bunch as he pried on the buckled door, amazed at the strength of this big, dark German. His blue work shirt soaked with sweat, he gave another giant heave.

Loni reached in front of Rene to check the gas gauge that had popped out of the panel. Careful to not break the wires, she turned it toward her and saw one empty tank and one full. "He didn't run out of gas," she reported, glancing at the diesel running down the trunk of the tree.

Worried, she studied Rosie's pale face as her dark eyes slowly opened. Loni took Rosie's hand as she tried to reach for Rene and shook her head. Her solemn expression answered Rosie's question. "Can you breathe okay?" Loni asked. The woman's eyes glazed over with pain as she gripped Loni's hand. "Hurry, Uncle Herm. She's hurting."

"Got it!" Her uncle yanked the protesting door open.

The engine's smoke and diesel smell grew stronger. "Paul," Loni urged, "get the fire extinguisher from Herm's truck and hose down that motor." Releasing Rosie's hand, Loni stepped onto a tombstone, jumped down, and ran to her truck for a blanket and first aid kit. Returning to the plane, she carefully shaded Rosie from the sun as they heard the ambulance screaming in the distance. "Don't move," Loni said, as Rosie groaned and tried to lift her head. "Help is almost here."

Blood dripped from Rosie's lopsided nose and ran down her mauve silk blouse. Loni pulled a red-checkered bandana from her back pocket and held it gently against Rosie's nose to keep it out of her mouth. Blood oozed between Loni's fingers. "Don't move," Loni repeated.

The blood from Rosie's nose slowed, but the side of her uneven swelling face was turning purple. Maybe a broken jaw, Loni thought, hoping that was all. "Hang on." She brushed Rosie's hair aside to study her face for signs of shock. That slam into the ground might have broken a rib or two.

"We ran out of gas," Rosie mumbled.

"Don't talk," Loni told her. "Focus on me. Listen to me." She kept smoothing Rosie's hair with one hand as she reached out with the other to undo Rosie's seatbelt.

As Rosie tried to move, she turned grey and cried out, "My legs. Oh god. They hurt so much!" Rosie was going into shock fast. Loni hoped she wasn't bleeding out. It seemed forever until the boxy ambulance stopped behind Uncle Herm's truck and two paramedics in white overalls scrambled out. An unlikely pair, Judy was as short as Big Lu was tall, and Judy was as bubbly as Big Lu was dour. Loni watched them grab their cases and hurry to the plane, Judy's trotting steps scurrying to keep up with Lu's long stride.

Jumping out of the way, Loni moved toward Uncle Herm and took his huge hand. He towered over her five-foot-ten height as they watched Judy check Rosie over. Taking a deep breath, Loni shook off the last of her fear. It would have been so easy for her uncle or cousin to be in that plane.

Loni watched Judy's kinky strawberry hair bounce with her body as she helped Lu tighten a neck brace around Rosie's neck. Gently pulling with her long arms, Lu lifted Rosie up and out onto the board as Judy strapped her down to the gurney, quickly pulling the woman's tailored skirt down to cover her thighs. As they loaded her into the ambulance, Rosie passed out. Her legs were bent at crooked angles, and blood dripped from the one foot still wearing a strapless high heel shoe. Lu clambered into the ambulance with Judy. As the door closed, Loni saw Lu pull off the shoe. "Maybe Rosie has a chance," Loni whispered to Uncle Herm as they watched the howling ambulance speed away.

Paul kept circling the engine, hugging the long empty red fire extinguisher as if it were a baby. Flashing lights and clouds of dust were highlighted against the rising sun as cars and trucks followed the yellow fire truck racing toward them. Life in a small town: everybody wanted to know what was happening.

Before the line of traffic arrived, Loni began to question people standing in a small group around the plane. The women quietly stood, worrying at cloth belts and collars of their colorful robes and housecoats. Men in undershirts and Levis wandered among them. One woman asked Loni, "Rosie? Will she be okay?"

"She was awake and talking." Loni couldn't say more. She called out, "Any of you see the crash?"

"I did," Paul said. He had finally left the engine to stand by her uncle, the empty fire extinguisher still clutched in his arms. "The motor sputtered and quit as he turned in to land. I looked up, and the plane fell. Then it plopped. Like a toad out of a tree. Plop." The young man looked at Herm for confirmation.

Plop? Stifling a giggle, Loni glanced at Uncle Herm. It wasn't funny, but she had to resist a nervous giggle.

"Where he came from, they traded DNA a little too close," Uncle Herm whispered. He gave Paul's dark crew cut head a knuckle rub. His small grin faded. "I was in the hangar and heard it come down, but I didn't see it crash."

"I was over there," Paul pointed his skinny arm at the archway. A bicycle leaned up against the iron post with an empty basket hanging off the handles. "Just finished delivering newspapers and was headed home when I first heard it sputtering. Came in right over my head and scared the crap outta me." Suddenly aware everyone was staring at him, Paul ducked his head and moved closer to Herm, who slid a protective arm over his shoulder. The trauma was catching up with Paul, Loni thought. She hoped someone would take him home soon.

 Loni's eyes roved around the growing crowd. "Anyone else?  Anything?"

"Is Rene really dead?" a man asked.

Loni nodded.

Another voice asked, "Rene? Did he suffer?"

Before she could answer, an old man pushed his way to the front and into Loni's face. "That plane's sitting on my wife," he spat belligerently.

Loni backed away, but he came with her. Old Man Calvin. Hadn't changed much. She heard he had sold the drugstore. Must be retired now, she figured. He was old as dirt and smelled just as bad. None of his clothes matched, not even his shoes and socks. He wore a tie without a shirt. She wondered who had dressed him this morning. Obviously not his wife. She wondered if the new owner ever filled in the hole this mean old bastard had dug in his drugstore parking lot so no one could park there.

"Well?" He stayed in her space and shouted again, spraying spittle on her.

Loni jumped and wiped. "Listen..." It was almost out of her mouth, but Loni stopped herself just in time. "Sorry. We'll move the plane as soon as we can."

She edged around him to stand in front of the group as they stared at the top of Rene's head. Loni waited for eye contact, hoping something would pop. "Anybody know anything about this?" She watched for any reaction, but all she got was a smiling Dorothea Rodriquez.

Dorothea had gained weight since high school. She had four kids, according to Loni's grandma. Loni didn't respond, and Dorothea's smile slid off her face as she nervously pulled down her tight 'show everything I have' thin shirt under an open purple robe. She should squirm, Loni thought as she remembered Dorothea shoving her against the locker room wall and kissing her.

It wasn't that Loni didn't like the kiss. Even then she didn't trust Dorothea, with her history of play and tell. Loni knew she had left herself wide open for it. Her teen rebellion came with stompin' boots, a chip on her shoulder, and short, spiky hair that she sprayed a different color every time she turned around. At least, that's what her grandma said.

Loni had changed too since then. Instead of skinny, she had gotten more muscular from her workouts. Her coal black hair, twisted in a single braid down her back, was nearly down to her waist. A scar ran through one eyebrow, turning a few of the hairs white, and the thin scar on her throat from ear to ear was left over after a horse bucked her off onto a barbed wire fence. A couple of times she had broken her nose, leaving it slightly lopsided with a couple of bumps. All in all, her mixed heritage gave her an interesting face.

Turning away from Dorothea, she found herself again facing Old Man Calvin, who was still trying to stare her down. Wailing sirens closing in on them drowned out his voice. Once more she sidestepped him and walked off to watch the bright yellow fire truck pull up. Volunteer firefighters, already sweating in their yellow rubber uniforms and hard hats, swarmed off the truck. Hoses spun out of the truck and yellow peopled tubes shot around the burning tree, quickly turning the area into a black mush.

Her cousin James jumped down from the driver's seat and nodded to another volunteer fireman as he snatched a hose. As he turned it toward Loni, she jumped behind her uncle. James didn't dare spray his own father. She was so hot in her polyester uniform that the water would feel good, but the harsh water spray would knock her down and he would keep her there.

"James!" her uncle reprimanded. "Stop screwing around and get the diesel diluted in that tree before it explodes on you!" As he sprayed the tree, the wing slowly dropped out of the tree from the force of the water, and the diesel smell dissipated.

*  *  *

"Did Rene live here in the park?" she asked her uncle as she lifted her heavy French braid off her neck. Her hair suddenly came loose. Long black waves fell around her head, temporarily blinding her. Damn! Loni complained to herself. Coco must have chewed through the rawhide thong. She did that every time they were on a long boring patrol. She tried to concentrate on the answer as she fought her hair, swearing under her breath at Coco.

"No, he lived up on Walker Heights with the hoity toity. He kept his plane at the Caliente Airport."

Pushing the hair off her broad forehead and high Apache cheekbones, Loni asked, "Did you know he was landing here?"

Uncle Herm shook his head. "Didn't call a flight plan in to me. Didn't ask for lights either and he couldn't land without them that time of morning." Pulling a stained kerchief from his back pocket, Herm hesitated a minute as he scrubbed at the sweat running down his face. "Tells me he wasn't planning on landing here in the first place. Engine trouble must've happened fast. I didn't hear a distress call." Loni had to agree; Rene didn't have time to call.

She refocused on the steadily growing group, mostly old timers who didn't have to get to work. The younger men and women began to leave. She nodded to Mr. Spinzolli, joining his friends. Everybody called him Spin. A short, swarthy man with a strong Italian accent, he was probably the only Italian immigrant who had ever settled in Caliente. She loved his green corn tamales, best in the world, although she didn't dare tell her grandma that. His wife ran a small Mexican food stand in front of their house near the school. Summertime, in the cooling dusk, he pulled a two-wheeled cart with a large stainless steel pot up and down the streets with young boys followed him, crying "Tamales!" He sent the kids to the doors with the orders and rewarded them with free tamales. Sometimes it was all some of those kids got to eat that day.

A dust devil suddenly whirled in behind Loni, swirling her hair into tangled mass and shooting dirt up into her eyes and nose. Sharp needles of sand peppered her, stinging and crawling into every drop of sweat available, in her hair, neck, crook of her elbows, even down inside her shirt. Finally the dust devil let go and passed through the firefighters who scrambled to safety, laughing at her as she scrubbed the hot silt out of her eyes between sneezing bouts.

Humiliated, she stepped over to the fallen tree and broke off a twig, stripping away the soft needles. She spun a hunk of her hair into a knot on the back of her head and used the twig like a long pin, weaving it through the knot. Then she tried to slap the dust off her dirt colored pants, but to no avail. The sweat streaks on her shirt had caked into mud that she couldn't even scrape off.

Hoping the twig would hold until she got home to a cold shower, she turned her back on the firefighters to bury her overwhelming sense of inadequacy. Everyone ignored her, murmuring among themselves and pointing around. Broken tombstones lay scattered everywhere.

"That's Bessie's," she heard an old man's quavering voice. Loni spotted Old Man Forrester. Everybody called him Rooster. It wasn't because he had a chicken ranch, although he really did, but because he actually resembled a rooster. His large Adam's apple bobbed constantly under his chinless face and huge beak of a nose. As always, he wore a red-striped Western shirt with a red round cap. With no bill to protect him from the sun, his nose was always red and blistering.

She nodded to Jake Sly as he pushed his way in front of Old Man Forrester, recalling how he took storytelling to the extreme. Wherever he was, drugstore, meat line, café, it didn't matter. Everybody could hear his high, clear voice as he told one whopper after another. She thought about the time she sat beside him in the drugstore. "Hey, Sly. Tell me a lie."

"Can't," she recalled Sly's answer. "Sold them all to television."

He was an old time cowboy, working wherever he could. Mostly he broke horses, and Loni hated the way he treated them. Wrapping a whip on his stub and using spurs sharp enough to cut, he rode a horse until he not only broke the horse, he also broke his spirit. She had picked him up on the road a few times, drunk, and taken him home or jail, depending on her mood. He had lost a hand when his rope accidentally wrapped around his wrist while the other end was on the neck of a very large bull that kept going. As he lifted his good arm at her, she noticed a cast from fingers to elbow. She really tried to fight her mind from going there, but she kept wondering how he wiped himself.

"No," Sly said impatiently. "That Bes goes to Bessard."

"And you know that how?" Forrester asked. "Looks like Bess to me."

Loni heard a snort, and Sly insisted, "Cuz it's on the right side of the stone, o' course, you idjt."

"Well, crap. Y'all know Sly knows everything. You heard that too, huh, Pat? Who was it told us how smart Sly is? Who was that? Oh, yeah. It was him!"

She heard snickers as someone asked how the tombstones would get glued back together. Another voice said, "Might as well dig a hole and bury Rene now seeing as he's already here." Loni heard a small laugh. "Won't even have to embalm him," someone else added.

"Can't do that," Spin said. "He's Catholic, and they have to have Mass and haul him around awhile first."

The quiet voices calmed Loni as she moved back to Uncle Herm. "Who does maintenance on the plane? Do you know?"

"He did. He didn't trust anyone else." Herm was perplexed. "Guess he wasn't as good as he thought." Shaking his head, he continued. "He's brought it by, but I haven't seen it in a long while." He hesitated, rubbing his arm. "Careless. Always in a hurry to get somewhere." Pulling off his yellow straw hat, Herm wiped his forehead, smearing grease across it. "Have you seen this plane lately, Daniel?" Loni turned, grateful to see her other cousin.

"No. Not for months. Got the last records, though." His dark chocolate eyes were warm as he reached for Loni.

Returning his grin, Loni backed up a step to avoid the whisker burn he always tried to give her. "Could you check out the engine?"

"Sure," he answered, punching her arm in greeting. Except for a few aging lines and sags on Uncle Herm's big German face, she couldn't believe how much Daniel favored his dad. Uncle Herm's hair had stayed as straight and dark as that of his oldest son.

Loni knew this crash wasn't his fault. In high school, she had watched Daniel work on his old junker cars as she did his homework. He kept them in her grandpa's barn to hide them from James, who thought anything belonging to Daniel belonged to him. James brought everything back pretty much ruined. On the other hand, any car Daniel sold was like new and never came back with a complaint.

Loni worshipped Daniel in high school. He was her protector until he graduated a year ahead of her. After that things got dicey, and her grades went to shit with James and his friends always around to bully her.

Watching Uncle Herm and Daniel walk away, she again marveled at how much they were alike. As big as his dad, Daniel walked like him, wide shoulders swinging, elbows out. They nodded in greeting as people parted to give them plenty of space. The firefighters had thrown their rubber suits onto the top of the truck, the yellow legs hanging helter skelter over the side. Three of the men used a helmet to play football in the shade of a salt cedar.

When her uncle and Daniel stopped to talk to James, she realized she needed to get Rene out of the heat. Where was that coroner?

Loni herded the grumpy old men back through the arch, some more reluctant than others to move along, so that she could wrap the yellow tape around the scene of the wreck. "Jeez," she told them, "you're worse than herding cats!" Tittering like little girls, they gradually moved on while she kept them from collecting souvenirs.

As the fire truck followed the crowd out, she climbed back up onto the plane. With a small digital camera, she photographed Rene, the gauges, the shattered windshield and windows, and other debris. Leaning over the body, she moved Rene's striped tie aside and pulled a small notebook and cell phone out of his yellow shirt pocket. She hoped they would tell her why he was trying to land.

"Anybody alive in there?" a voice asked, walking up to the plane.

"No. Rosie went in the ambulance. Just Rene left."

A pleasant, middle-aged man wearing Levis and a Western shirt nodded toward her. He had the usual medical bag in his hand.

"You must be the coroner."

Smiling, the man held out his other hand. "Dr. Benjamin, at your service."

Loni grinned to herself at the formal introduction. "Loni Wagner, Highway Patrol. At your service."

"Good," the doctor said. "Would you call the mortuary for me?  I forgot and left my cell in the charger."

"Sure. It'll take a bit. I need to go back to the hangar to find a phone book. Can I do anything else?"

"That should do it," the doctor answered, surveying the plane. He shook his head and started climbing.

Loni kept taking pictures of the scene. Trash and pieces of metal were scattered, and luggage hung out of a split in the side of the plane. She carried the luggage and Rosie's purse over to the back of her SUV.

Returning, she bagged the small debris. The ground was already hot to the touch. Too bad the town couldn't afford to water, Loni thought, seeing the desolate brown around the tombstones. It could really use some green grass and a few wild poppies.

Loni circled for one last search and stumbled over an elegant marble statue of a young girl. The crash had broken it from a tombstone and shoved it into the dirt. She caught herself on a limb, gouging a broken piece into her hand. Swearing under her breath, she sucked at the splinters as she scanned the crash site. She felt like a fish in a bowl as the watchers examined her every move. Still sucking on her hand, she checked for any suspicious objects that could give her clues to what had happened..

Much too uncomfortable with the crowd's surveillance, Loni returned to her SUV with the evidence bags and lifted the back door, piling the bags into a box. She opened the passenger door. "Coco, out." Loni pushed the wiggling dog aside as she filled the lid to Coco's water jug and sat it down in front of her. While the dog drank, Loni made one more circle around the engine to see if it might ignite before they got Rene out. The smell of diesel had lessened but still burned her nostrils.

Loni closed the back of the SUV and shooed Coco back into the front seat, following her in as she pushed Coco's wet, dripping muzzle away from her face. She carefully wove through the people and cars now lining the dirt road for a quarter of a mile. My god, she wondered. Where do they all come from?

*  *  *

Driving along the dirt road, Loni watched the painted letters on the front of the huge corrugated tin hangar grow steadily larger until she could read "Wagner Airport." The name was everywhere, the legacy of a pioneer family, and she hated it. Growing up, all she heard was a disgusted, "You're just like so-and-so," or "Why aren't you more like so-and-so?" Or the worst, "Must be the breed in you."

Entering the airport hangar, she wound around small planes, wings, engines hoisted on blocks, and other airplane parts to her parking spot. With Coco close on her heels, she headed into her uncle's office stuck in a back corner, dwarfed by the huge hangar. Without a word, she walked past Herm and Daniel lounging in overstuffed chairs to stand in front of the swamp cooler hanging in the window. Lifting the front of her shirt to let the air blow around her body, Loni sighed in relief.

Daniel gave her a hard time about how soft she was. "You deserve it for livin' in someone else's country too long."

"Listen," she answered. "You got cotton on. Try wearing this godawful polyester crap."

"I don't hear James complaining," he teased her.

"I don't either since he's a town cop and wears cotton shirts and Levis," she shot back.

"You should go upstairs to your apartment and shower." Her uncle nodded at the ceiling of the office. "Cold water's best way to cool down. You're done with your shift."

"Can't yet. I need to get Rene out of the sun."

"You do look like crap." Daniel laughed. "You get down and roll in pig shit?"

Ignoring him, she stood awhile in the cool air before she picked up the phone book.

"Did you find out why Rene was trying to land here?" Daniel asked.

"Not yet," Loni answered, opening her phone.

Uncle Herm's big shoulders shrugged. "Only thing come to mind is when he realized the engine problem, we were the closest place to land."

"Probably," Loni considered. "Something doesn't feel right." Finding the number to Kister's Mortuary, she called Wilber to come and get Rene out of the sun.

"Bout time you called," said a voice on the other end. "Heard about it hours ago. Can't be helped how he's gonna smell. Coroner's gonna be mad."

"Coroner's there. He told me to call." She hung up. Shaking off the complaining voice, she called the public electric company for a boom. Already on their way, they told her.

Using the copy machine in Uncle Herm's office, Loni made a copy of the five pages in Rene's book. Eying the cover, she decided to make a copy of it as well. The geometric design was unusual, one she had never seen. She flipped his cell phone open and wrote down the numbers from the phone's speed dial onto the back of the copy.

Turning back to Daniel, she joked, "Come to think of it, Dannie boy, why are you up at this ungodly hour? I remember how hard it was to get you out of bed before noon." As Loni waited for his answer, her mind moved on to the pages she had copied. They all had sets of numbers listed beside names. Maybe money amounts? She didn't recognize any of the names. Were they listed in his phone? They seemed to be a combination of something. Streets? Cities? The rest of the notebook was blank.

"We had a rush job to replace a carburetor by seven." Daniel's voice broke into her reverie as a middle-aged, thin man stormed into the office.

Wet, stringy hair hung in long strands down his back, and curls of gray hair stuck out of his undershirt as he waved a knobby bare arm toward the runway. He pushed into Daniel's space and stuck a demanding finger into his chest. "You got to get me out of here!"

Daniel stepped to the side as he stared the man down. "You know what, Larry? If you don't get a haircut soon, you're going to have to climb up on a limb to shit."

Loni burst out with a guffaw before she could stop herself. Larry glowered at her. When he saw the notebook in her hand, the fire quickly bled out of his eyes, and his freshly shaved face smoothed out. Pulling his eyes away, he raised his hands in retreat. "Okay, okay, I know I'm out of line. I'm sorry. But this is a really important meeting."

"I know, Larry. Your plane's ready," Daniel said in a noncommittal voice.

Uncle Herm nodded down the runway. "Wind's down this morning." Loni saw the heat from the tarmac was already bouncing water mirages.

Larry's face took on a furtive expression as he nervously turned away, pulling on the black suspenders holding up carefully creased dress pants. He jumped into a golf cart, hair flopping, and whirred down the runway, disappearing into the garage of the third house. She thought she identified Dorothea's purple robe on the woman inside the garage.

Loni turned. "Tell me about Larry."

"Like what?"

"What he does for a living, his interests, family. You know, that kind of shit."

"Well," Daniel finally said, "he married Dorothea Rodriquez and has a bunch of kids. You know. We called her Dot in school. Now she prefers Dorothea."

"Yeah," her uncle added. "He's got a teenaged kid from his first wife. Calls him Billyjoesombitch."

"Billy Joe what?"

"Billyjoesombitch." Daniel shrugged his shoulders. "That's all we ever heard Larry call him."

Exasperated, Loni punched him in his rock hard gut. "Be serious."

Daniel stared at Loni and started laughing. "Like I tell James, don't play cop with me." Shaking his head, he stopped laughing. "Listen. I don't play with these people, and I don't listen to you women gossip. Ask Mom." Daniel nodded at a small red pickup driving up. "She gossips about everything."

Loni's Aunt Mae bounded out of the pickup and hugged Loni with one hand as she handed Uncle Herm and Daniel each a sack. "Your lunch." She turned back to Loni. "Shame on you. I've only seen you twice since you've been home."

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I'll get by soon, I promise." Loni grinned back at the infectious smile on Mae's chubby face under her short, brown curls. Loni noticed gray strands that weren't there when she left years earlier.

Uncle Herm opened his sack and fished out a sandwich. Peeling back a slice of bread, he smelled it. "How come I don't ever get a hot lunch?"

Mae patted him on the cheek. "You come home for lunch, sweet peach, and I'll fry your baloney." She hugged Loni again. "Have you seen anyone sniff their food before? He's been doing that ever since he saw that rerun of M*A*S*H where Hawkeye was always sniffing his food." Mae's acerbic comments always put Loni on the floor laughing.

"Oh, bull crap," Uncle Herm retorted. "That's so not true. I started sniffing my food when your damn cat came up to a piece of cheese I dropped on the ground and covered it up."

 She walked back to Herm and patted his belly. "It's all right, dear. I'll make you a hot supper tonight."

"How come?" he shot back. "We going out to eat?"

Shaking her head, Mae hugged Loni again and then Daniel. Mae was a toucher. "Keep your promise now," she told Loni as she got back into her pickup. "I'll call you about coming for breakfast."

"I'll be there."

Smiling, Loni dropped the notebook and cell phone into the evidence box, wondering why Larry was so interested in them, and headed back to her SUV.

Searching Rosie's luggage, she hoped to find something, a souvenir, paperwork, or even new clothes, to indicate where they had been. Nothing. Even the labels were American. She stuffed everything back before she opened Rene's luggage. Nothing there either. She opened Rosie's purse. Again, nothing zinged. She was stuffing everything back when the phone rang.

"What you doing, girly?" Chief's voice barked in her ear.

"Questioning people and collecting evidence," Loni carefully responded.

"Well, get back to traffic watch. You're not hired to be an investigator."

"I thought since I was off duty and here..."

"Not your job to think, girly. Get on back here and sign out. Tully will be there soon. Git, now!"

"What about the crime scene?"

"Didn't you hear me? Not your job!" He hung up.

Loni wondered how far she could throw the goddamn phone. "Hirciamus!" she snarled.

"What did you say?" Daniel was perplexed.

"Sorry. My grandma hates it when I swear so I'm trying to learn how to swear genteelly."

Uncle Herm laughed. "Well I'm genteel, and I have no idea what it means."

Loni grinned. "I said he was a stinking armpit." She backed up as Tully skidded into the hangar, lights flashing and his SUV fishtailing to a stop. His closed windows must mean his refrigeration worked fine, unlike hers. Climbing out, Tully slowly strutted over on skinny bowed legs, slew footed and so Pot bellied that his gun belt disappeared into his gut. His scraggly beard was a failed try, and dried sweat ringed his armpits. Loni wondered how long it had been since he pressed his uniform. Or, for that matter, even washed it. "Well, shit!" Loni spit out, forgetting her promise.

"Be cool, girl," Herm warned her as Tully approached. "You can't fix stupid."

"Is that ol' bastard really dead?" Tully's belly stuck out like a tank protecting him as he stalked up to Loni and nodded toward the cemetery at the end of the runway. His hat was so big that every time he turned his head, it forgot to turn with him. Maybe a brown color at one time, it was colorless, shapeless, and tired. "Well," he drawled, staring out toward the plane that was barely visible beyond the split tree trunk. "Good thing he don't need to fly anymore."

"You do like to tell it like it is, huh, Tully," Uncle Herm said. "What was that genteel word you used earlier?" he asked Loni as he walked away. "Hermaphrodite?"

Staring at Uncle Herm's back, Tully took out his cell phone and called Roland's Wrecking.

Mouth hanging, Loni gaped at Tully. "You can't do that," Loni objected. "Rene's still in there. It's a crime scene, for god's sake!" She shook her head, exasperated. "Besides, you need a hoist to lift the plane off the tombstones."

Glaring at Loni, Tully sullenly redialed the phone and called the mortuary for a body pickup. Loni couldn't even find the words to tell him she had already called. Flipping the phone shut, Tully bared his brown teeth, which were badly stained from the chewing tobacco he spit at her feet. She stepped back, wondering if he even owned a toothbrush. "It's not a crime scene now." Tully pulled his hat off and wiped at the sweat running down his face. "Well, I suppose if he was bound for hell, at least he found the right day for it."

Loni turned away. Back off, she told herself. It's only your second month home. Don't shoot him yet. She clenched her teeth and turned toward the door of the hangar. Over her shoulder she said, "There's the luggage and evidence box." She waved her hand. "Coco, come."

Walking away, Loni followed the dog around behind the hangar. The heat of her anger matched the waves from the tarmac slamming into her face like an open oven as she followed the dog. She needed the walk before she got in her SUV and drove herself into a ditch.

Watching Coco sniff the hot ground, she couldn't stop wondering why Rene was landing at this airport so early in the morning. Who was he here to see? Maybe Larry? Scrutinizing the houses along the runway, she checked out which ones had plane garages and which had open plane ports. All single stories, they had red tile roofs and white stucco walls. Maybe the roofs were red to alert pilots when they were landing. She felt a growing sense of appreciation for what her uncle had accomplished.

More than ready to get out of the oppressive heat before she got heat sick, she called Coco and hurried back into the hangar. The dancing poodle followed her on the burning asphalt. Loni grabbed Coco's water thermos from her SUV and poured water into her bowl. Laughing, Loni watched Coco drink. She acted like a turkey, licking a bit and filling her mouth before she raised her muzzle to swallow, slopping water everywhere. When she was finished drinking, Loni opened the door of her SUV and Coco hopped in.

*  *  *

Circling the graveyard to see what headway had been made in moving the plane, she stopped to watch the boom on the crane lift the fuselage onto a flatbed. She was glad Rene had already been moved. A few curious people had stayed, huddling under the salt cedars and willing to put up with the heat. Another wasted morning.

Loni reminded the driver to drop the plane off at the Wagner hangar before she turned back to Old Highway 85 and the police station, hot wind from the open windows burning her face. Using the refrigeration unit overheated the SUV. When she complained to Chief, he told her she didn't need it for night patrol anyway. Besides, he told her, she used less gas that way. Pissed off at Chief, Loni wondered if she could get Daniel to help her fix it.

More than ready for her day to end, she parked the SUV in the fenced police parking lot beside her truck, and reluctantly rolled up all her windows. She had a 12 gauge Remington shotgun and Colt M4 rifle mounted on a rack behind the front seat to keep secure. Stepping out, she ordered Coco to follow her. The sun was riding high as Loni locked the SUV and opened her truck door for Coco.

*  *  *

Stopping at the general store, Loni ordered a new glass top stove, refrigerator, and dishwasher for her grandma. Jessie, the salesman, helped her. She remembered him from school, when kids called both of them "breeds." It made them connect. "Stove will be in—"

"I know," Loni interrupted him, grinning. "The truck comes on Thursday." Loni sketched a square with her finger in the air. "Still the same small town."

"Listen," Jessie said. "The population doubled while you were gone."

"Really? Someone had twins?"

"Yeah." He grinned. "I did."

"Good for you. Boys or girls?"

"One of each."

"That's one way to settle the name debate." She went out the door.

Next she stopped at the plumber, the electrician, Spud, the glass man, and finally Raymond, the sheet metal guy. She ordered a swamp cooler and refrigeration unit and a hot water heater from him. Her grandma was going to kill her, but she didn't care. It felt good to do something for her.

*  *  *

The hot sun was high overhead as Loni headed into the hangar and saw the plane huddled in the back of the hangar like a woebegone dog. Pissed at Chief, she ignored it as she dragged herself up the stairs and opened the door to her loft apartment. The cathedral ceiling and window skylights made it a welcome sight. She had polished the wood floor to a high shine during her first few days home when she missed Maria so much she couldn't sleep, aching for her touch. The throw rugs from her aunt Mae scattered splashes of color around the square, open space. Backed up to one side of the stairwell wall were a small apartment stove, refrigerator, and sink, which doubled as a bathroom sink. On the other side of the stairs was a closet sized space with a toilet and corner shower.

Her double bed in the center of the loft was covered with an antique quilt that barely covered the mattress sides. Each bed post sat in a tall quart jar, a reminder of the scorpions crawling around. At least they couldn't climb glass.

Two wooden chairs were pulled up to a small square table in front of a sloping window that revealed the desert with Montezuma Mountain on the distant skyline. Under a slanted wall, Loni had shoved a large desk, deep enough to hold her laptop computer.

Pouring fresh water for Coco, she shook the bits of dried food in her self feeder and checked the level as she struggled to shut out the small voice of doom. She tried to not think about the plane. Tomorrow. She'd worry about it tomorrow.

Too tired to go to the ranch and visit her grandparents, Loni called them, feeling the usual guilt as she hung up.

She struggled to pull off tan, roughout boots and peel sweat soaked socks off her feet. Looping her slacks over the back of a chair for fast access in case of a call, she stripped off the rest of her clothes as she entered the bathroom. She stayed under the cold shower until she wrinkled and shivered. Wrapping a towel around her long, wet hair, she climbed into bed buck naked and wet. A few battle scars puckered on her buff body in white lines against her olive skin, and her athletic muscles rippled across her back as she opened her laptop.

FROM: Loni Wagner

TO: Sandi@gmailyahoo.com

DATE: July 1

SUBJECT: Still not looking.

It's been a few days since I've emailed. Things have been hectic. Wanted you to know that I appreciate your telling me to move on from Maria, but right now I can't do it, so I'm sticking to what I decided to do when I came home.

I'm trying to help my grandmother as much as I can. I am so happy she's getting better, which helps make it a good thing I came back home. I am also grateful my granddad is happy I'm back. Bahb hasn't changed one day while I was gone.

Still, I have a hard time accepting I'm really back home. You asked about how big Caliente is. An old timer will tell you that by the time you read the "Welcome to Caliente" sign, you're already out the other side. It's not quite that bad, but ranching and mining are pretty much gone. It's pretty hard to make a living. So many empty places and worried faces on the old folks as they watch their children drift way.

Last time I told you I was through with my training crap and have become a duly noted Arizona Highway Patrol Officer. I'm on my own now, patrolling by myself. I got assigned the graveyard shift, following drunk drivers around after the bars close, ticketing speeders, and driving the desert for hours at night. It is deadening. I admit sometimes I miss the rush the LA city streets gave me. I usually get to the station in time for the changing of the guard before I go home, which feels backwards, like so much else. I know. I'm whining. It will get better. Shiichoo tells me so. But I still feel so lost. I know you tell me it's time to move on, but I can't.

Tell the girls I miss them.

Loni

Hitting "Send," she closed the lid and slid down in the bed, too hot and tired to pull up the covers. Her restless brain thought about Maria's sister, Sandi, and her daughters, how much she missed seeing them. Sandi was Maria's favorite sister, and they both babysat the kids. Her thoughts drifted to Maria. Always Maria. She missed Maria's smell, like warm, sweet milk fresh in the bucket. And her feel, the soft velvet of a horse's nose. She especially missed the closeness in bed when she would wake up so intertwined with Maria that she couldn't tell where one of them began and the other left off. She missed the whispers of love in the dark of the night.

*  *  *

Coco bounced against the edge of the bed, barking in Loni's ear, forcing her out of a deep sleep. "What the —!" Loni pushed the dog away. "Stop it!" Coco rushed to the door and back again. As she shushed the dog, she heard a repeated ringing vibration from below. She grabbed her gun from under the pillow as she swung out of bed. Ordering Coco to stay, she quietly opened her door and crept down the stairs. She flipped on the light switch, flooding the hangar with light. As she saw a human silhouette, a shot rang out.

Loni felt a brush of air beside her ear and slammed to the floor, switching the lights off as she dropped. She heard someone running and the side door open, followed by the roar of a motorcycle starting up and speeding away. Naked, she jumped up and ran outside, alternating between pissed and scared. There were too many houses around and too many people in them to shoot. A single taillight faded in the distance. Turning around, she ran back upstairs before someone came looking.

CHAPTER 2

July 2, 12:35 a.m.

A FULL MOON FLOATING high in the summer sky followed Loni to work. She stopped on the side of the road, turned off her lights, and absorbed the silver glitter on the greasewood leaves and cactus needles across the desert floor. Refusing to let the shooting earlier disturb her, she waited for quiet peace to settle her. Reluctantly, she made herself drive on, arriving at the police station as Clive was coming off his shift.

He followed her up to the booking counter where Bobby stood. Loni didn't know what Bobby's title was. He had at least five jobs she knew about: dispatcher, 911 operator, booker, interrogator, office manager. How many more were there? Skinny and tall, he towered over her and peered down at her with pale blue eyes, cautiously watching her sign in. "You patrol east tonight," he spoke softly to Loni as he nodded to Clive over her shoulder. "Just in case that shooter knows your route."

"Wow, you really know how to cheer a girl up." Loni frowned as she took the map from Bobby.

She stepped back to let Clive sign out. She liked his face, open and cheerful. His uniform hung snug and straight on him the way it was supposed to, his shoes were shiny, and his face was clean shaven. And it was the end of his shift. It helped when a patrol officer looked like one. Feeling messy, she glanced down at her pants and reminded herself to give them to her grandma to get them washed and pressed.

Clive's good natured joking raised Loni's spirits.

"How come you’re gonna change my route?" Clive asked. "Didn't want me stoppin' by your house anymore? Wife told you about us and wants to kick you out?"

"You wish," Bobby bounced back.

"You got that right." Clive sighed. "Tell her it's your fault I can't get there anymore." He turned to Loni, who was scanning her new patrol map. "Your new route has some good speed traps though." He pulled his map out of his pocket and smoothed it out on the counter. It was falling apart at the creases. "Give me your map and I'll mark it."

"Hey, that's great." Loni stepped beside him, leaning over the counter to watch. "I never pick up enough speeders to make Chief happy."

"And you never will." Clive lowered his voice, mimicking Chief, "Got to pay your own way here, boy."

Loni watched Clive mark her map. "This one is best." He circled The Oasis Bar. "It's the only bar that's not in the town proper. Get down wind about a half mile. You can pick 'em up either hurrying to the bar or hurrying away." He handed her the map. "Good for five or so of what Chief would like. Best at closing." Clive sighed. "Stopped someone there today who had the gall to ask me if the ticket I gave him met my quota. Told him no, I didn't have a quota, I can write as many tickets as I want and would he like another?"

*  *  *

Clive had been wrong. It was three in the morning, and Loni was waiting a half mile up the road from The Oasis. She hadn't picked up anybody, drunk or speeding. She knew bars could give drinkers until 2:30 a.m. to finish before they locked the door, but she had waited long enough.

As Loni drove by the bar, its large garish sign went dark, leaving the adobe walls bathed in moonlight. Two cars were parked under the salt cedars. She drove on, aimlessly turning wherever the whim led her. Windows down, she enjoyed the dry wind blowing around her head. She laughed at Coco, whose fuzzy ears were flying as she stuck her nose out her window and sniffed the air.

Falling behind a pickup, Loni watched the driver throw a can to the side of the road while four boys riding in the back were beating on the rear window and yelling. Her lights flashing, she followed the pickup for a mile before it slowed to a stop. She recognized the teenage driver and figured his rich daddy could pay big bucks. Loni handed him the ticket. "You go get your girl home now. And slow. I'm following you."

He sneered at Loni as he snatched the ticket from her hand. "My dad is best friends with Chief."

"How nice for your dad." Loni's sarcasm bounced over the driver's head as she herded the four teenage boys out of the bed of the pickup and shoved them into the back of her SUV.

"Honest to god," the smallest one giggled. "None of us had more than one beer."

"Really?" Loni had to laugh. "I didn't know beer cans came in gallon sizes."

Most of them were townies and she finally got them all delivered home.

*  *  *

Early morning found Loni on Harquah Sandhills Road. She had followed another drunk home to make sure he made it. He had already slept off most of his alcohol stupor on the side of the road when she moved him on. A big high school football hero, he had to get married before he even graduated. Loni considered throwing his ass in jail for the hell of it but remembered he had six kids. He worked at the seed mill now, and he probably couldn't afford to miss work. He couldn't afford to get drunk, either, and he certainly couldn't afford six kids.

Her mind see sawed back and forth before she let it go and followed him home. She watched him flip a bird as he disappeared through his front door. Damn, Loni thought. Too bad it's a legal gesture. She turned around in his driveway and spun back out onto the highway, half grinning to herself. Next time, she decided. Next time she would throw his sorry ass in jail.

Loni had picked up just three speeders. Exhausted from too little sleep, she was numbed by the still, dead heat. Right before sunrise, she headed back out of Harquah Sandhills, watching the old sand planks left from an ancient road snake in and out beside her as they slowly disappeared into the sand beside the empty highway. The sand gradually turned from silver to bleached white as the sun glared into her eyes. She searched for her sunglasses, pushing against Coco as she fumbled with the lock on the cubbyhole. Moving her backup gun aside, she grabbed her sunglasses as she refocused on the road. Coco nuzzled her, pushing Loni against the SUV door.

"Move, damn it!" Loni pushed back. "I'm mad at you anyway." Coco didn't budge. "Oh shit, oh dear." Loni pushed on the dog, again. She was immovable. "How much do you weigh!" she said. "Oh bite me. I'm talking to the dog again."

Loni pulled her long black braid over the front of her shoulder. Coco immediately started chewing on it. Tearing up, she remembered how Coco did the same with Maria's braid. Loni fought the memories, but the scene shot across her mind anyway, holding her partner as her blood ran out of her and begging her to hang on while the backup cop cried, "Sorry. So sorry. Sorry. I thought she was the perp. Sorry." LA! She hated LA. People lost their humanity in crowds. How did Bahb put it? "They so close together they sour each other."

Except Maria. No! Think about something else. "Damn it, Coco, move!" The dog ignored her while she mouthed Loni's braid. The sun bounced off the hood of the white SUV into her eyes as the asphalt on the road in front of her shimmered with the rising sun, reflecting a water mirage that disappeared just as she reached it. In her mind, she saw Maria in front of her. "Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!" Loni finally screamed. Like a mirage, Maria always disappeared before she reached her.

It was time to end her shift. Loni drove into town around the collection of tired, unpainted buildings strung along a dry river bed. The town lay straight with the world, but it rested catawampus to the riverbed, confusing some people because they didn't know what direction they were heading. Loni wondered if it was true that it was the iron in nose hairs that gave one a sense of direction. She remembered her dad had been so sensitive to his sense of direction that he actually threw up when he lost it. She wondered if he had a lot of iron in his nose hair.

Loni circled the courthouse square, wondering about the Southern aristocrat who founded the town, or so the story went. The lopsided courthouse that squatted splat in the middle of a town block stood like a square peg pounded into a round hole. Nothing fit.

Over the last century, a city and state police department, a small courtroom and judge's chamber, a jail on the second story, and a half basement for storage had been added to the original building. Double doors led out both ends of the building. Anyone who wanted the police department went in the north entrance, and those who wanted the courtroom and judge went in the south entrance.

A huge dirt lot circling the courthouse drifted down to the sidewalk. Some called it a lawn, but the only green Loni ever remembered seeing was bull-head stickers, one of the few ground crawling plants that could survive the endless Arizona drought. Willow trees leaned against the courthouse walls as if they needed the help to stand. Clinging to the trees, pale green leaves curled from the lack of water.

Loni felt a slight cooling as she drove under the huge branches reaching across the street from the eucalyptus trees lining the courthouse sidewalk. Two feet in diameter, the limbs were so low that tall loads had to detour the town along the railroad. She zigzagged around a dig blocking the sidewalk and part of the street, an attempt to patch the vintage World War II sewer system. Driving over the pieces of fragile Orangeburg sewer pipe made of creosote soaked heavy felt paper, she chuckled at the crunches, amazed the pipes had not disintegrated or been pancaked the day after they were buried. Maybe they had. Wondering why they called it Orangeburg, she thought about what was feeding the trees.

*  *  *

Loni was late turning into the police parking compound, more than ready to call it a night and sign out. Signaling Coco to follow, she crossed the street and walked up the long concrete walk to the double wide north doors. Ringing the bell, she watched a dark redheaded woman pop up behind the booking counter as Loni heard the click of the door release. It was Lola something or other, the dispatcher who followed Bobby's shift. Loni vaguely remembered her from the day she was hired, but hadn't really been around her since then.

Chief Redneck was standing in the door of his office. "Well, girly!" His bloodshot eyes popped out at her as a smirk spread over his red face. "Tully said you should fill out the report seeing as how you already investigated." He walked up to her and stuck a blank form in her face. "Go find a desk in the bullpen." Grimacing in pain, Chief rubbed his fat chest and burped. "You got yourself a case."

Sighing, Loni took the blank report and watched Chief walk away in his rolling gait. He moved like a huge old dray horse tired of living. His clothes never fit, and every time he stood, he had to resnap his Western shirt and tuck it back in his pants. His bolo tie, a fancy big turquoise piece, didn't fit with the black and white-striped suspenders holding up his Levis. On his feet were old brown leather slippers. Loni figured he couldn't reach down to put boots on anymore.

From the door to his office, he yelled back at her, "I'm fed up with getting calls about somebody's beloved mother or great-aunt Lily's tombstone getting oblibertated," falling over the word. "Fix it." His bald head disappeared. Then it reappeared. "And get that damn dog out of here." The head disappeared again. Loni waited a minute to see if it would pop out again. He was bully big and bully mean. She had read somewhere most people who started bullying when they were young ended up either behind bars or a badge. It was hard for Loni to tell the difference anymore.

Beckoning Coco to follow her, Loni reached out her hand to the woman behind the booking counter who had been watching Loni with a sympathetic expression.

"Hi, Lola," Loni was mesmerized by her clear emerald green eyes. Loni heard she was Chief's eye candy, but no one had warned her about the eyes. Stumbling over her words, Loni finally blurted, "We met a few weeks back when I started. I'm Loni Wagner, graveyard patrol."

Lola returned the hand shake with a firm grip, finally pulling out of Loni's hold. "I remember. If I can do anything to help you, let me know."

"You can. Could you let me know when something comes back on the plane evidence Tully turned in?"

"He didn't turn anything to me."

"Oh, shit, I really need to find out who shot at me."

"You think he might try it again?"

"No reason why not. Depends on if he got what he wanted." Loni turned and pushed through the swinging half gate into the bullpen, uncomfortable that she had an audience. Sighing again, she dropped into the nearest empty chair that faced away from the watchers. Coco slithered under the desk and was soon lightly snoring at Loni's feet, hidden by the solid wood front of the desk.

Loni heard snickers behind her, especially from James. Too bad she had to put up with her cousin at work, but the town law shared space with the state police and they were stuck here together. They even shared the dispatcher and jail. It seemed to be working for everybody but Loni, especially right now.

Chui Castro, James's partner in narcotic investigations, was making kissy kiss sounds at her back between James's snickers and she couldn't concentrate. God! Loni cringed. Don't boys ever grow up? She finally turned around to stare Chui down. A small, swarthy Mexican, he had shiny black hair and a banty rooster attitude. Casually dressed in a brown tee and Levis, he pulled a gun from the hollow of his back and pointed it toward Loni as he took his time sliding the clip out and counting the bullets before shoving it back.

Still smirking, he tugged a switchblade knife out of a boot and began to play with it, switching it open and closed, over and over as he stared back. Tired of his game, Loni looked above his head to a poster on his wall. A cold shiver passed through her. Across the bull's eye in the center of the poster were the words, "IF YOU CAN READ THIS, YOU ARE NOW IN RANGE." Loni believed it. His shiny wet black eyes were even colder than Loni remembered in high school, reminding her of a Gila monster. She wanted to forget her serious history with Chui as she watched him puff up and flip her the bird. Disgusted, Loni turned away, searching for something else to focus on, determined to ignore the snake behind her. She should know by now to always sit with her back against a wall.

The bull pen was surrounded by cheap forest green dividers in a failed attempt to create privacy. Not a nice forest green either, Loni decided. More like the color of a dying plant. She had read somewhere that the color green was supposed to be calming, but there was nothing worse than the ugly institutional vomit green paint and the fluorescent lights hanging by chains from the ceiling. The air was stifling. The faded ragged ribbon tied to the cooler vent in the ceiling barely fluttered. The warm moisture in the air turned everything into a wet, gloppy mess.

Avoiding the report on her desk, Loni stared at the wanted posters, yellowed with age. No longer able to put off filling out the form, she sighed and kept peeling the paper off her sweaty arm that she used to anchor the form. Whenever she tried to write, the ballpoint pen skipped and smeared on the damp paper. She figured Chief considered the case a slam dunk and was only giving her a hard time, but she couldn't leave until Tully got back after his lunch hour. Loni heard he took long lunches. Was it something about a widow up Dusty Road? Or was that Chief? Oh well, she decided, not her problem.

Waiting, Loni filled in what she could. It was unreadable, but then what did she care? Using the form as a fan, she rolled her chair through the swinging half door and stopped behind Lola's counter. "Can you tell me why Chief hates sniffers so much?"

"He didn't used to, but the last police dog we had around here ate the stock on his shotgun, the driver's seat in his car, and the wires to his siren. The kiss of death for that dog though was when he ate Chief's Raybans."

Loni laughed in surprise.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god." Lola leaned forward, her bracelets and keys on her arms jingling like a Greek chorus. "I would DIE for your dimples."

"Tell you what. I'll trade them for your incredible eyes."

"Why would you ever want to trade away your dimples?"

"Because they have been the bane of my existence."

"Really?"  Lola stared at Loni like she was crazy. "I have got to know why anyone would hate dimples." Lola rested her chin in her hand, waiting.

Loni thought, What the hell. She looked around, keeping her voice low. "Have you noticed the way James treats me?"

Lola nodded in sympathy.

"Did you know James and I are cousins?"

Lola shrugged. "So I heard."

"Growing up around here, most of my dad's family disowned me, except for Uncle Herm, his wife, Mae, and Daniel, my cousin." Loni lowered her voice another notch. "James and Uncle Kirk's family said no way could I be related to them. Since none of them had dimples, it must have been the milkman. Of course," Loni shook her head at the memory and leaned back in her chair, "since I didn't know any milkmen, I had no idea what that meant." She gave Lola a wry grin. "What they really meant was they didn't want to be related to a half breed Apache."

Lola gave her an understanding look. "See these green eyes. See this red in my hair?" She lifted it and let it sift through her fingers, the light bouncing off the red-highlights. "I may be Mexican, but it wasn't a Mexican gave me these." She lifted her eyebrow, reading Loni's expression. "Wasn't henna either."

Loni had to laugh. "Guess we're just a couple of bitch curs, huh?"

"Nah," Lola answered her. "We're a couple of pinto kids."

"That's a new one," Loni said, perplexed. "What does it mean?"

"That's what we Mex call a mix. Light and dark brown, like pinto beans."

The sound of the door buzzer jarred both of them, and Loni rolled back to her desk as Tully wandered in.

"Hey," Loni said. "Chief told me to write up the report on your plane crash case. I need the evidence from the plane and your notes."

"What notes?"

"The plane yesterday morning." Loni pointed her pencil at Tully, holding up her report. "Did you bring the plane records?"

He crossed his arms over his fat stomach and silently stared at her.

"You know, the evidence?"

Tully shrugged. "Wasn’t useful to me so I left it."

"You didn't work on the case at all?"

"Here." He put a single sheet of paper on her desk.

"And?"

"A drawing of the plane." He pushed it toward Loni. "Want to see it?"

"Not really. I have photos. Did you search for any more evidence under the plane after it was removed? Measure its fall?"

"Why?"

"Because the report asks for it. The family may need it for insurance. We may need it if a crime is involved." Loni tried to be patient with him.

"What crime?"

"I don't know, Tully. That's why I need your report."

"I didn't do it."

"Why not?" Loni decided talking to Coco was more productive.

"I don't do numbers is why not."

"What do you mean?"

Tully slid his drawing into a drawer. "Everybody knows five plus five is ten. Always was and always will be. Nothing new to learn there so don't need to mess with it."

"Does that go for car accidents, too?"

"Why not? Easy to see who's at fault. Waste of time."

"Well, damn!" Loni leaned back. "You're fun to work with.

"What?"

"Nothing." Loni turned back to the desk.

"My drawings are good enough for the boss." He snorted behind her back. "Bitch!"

Funny, Loni thought, it sounded different when I called myself that. Maybe I could just shoot him. Nah, tomorrow might be better.

She ordered Coco out from under the desk as she collected her paperwork. Opening her cell phone, she nodded goodbye to Lola, and, by the time she and Coco walked out the front door, her cousin answered. "Daniel. It's me. What's happening to the plane?"

"I'm working on it now."

"Somebody really interested in that plane broke into the hangar and shot at me last night. Can you keep an eye out for anything unusual?"

"Oh shit! Are you okay?" Daniel exploded.

"Yes. I think it was just a warning shot."

"Well, that's okay then." His sarcasm warmed her. "Why don't you hang up now so I can get back to it?"

Loni laughed. "What a good little cousin you are." She flipped her phone shut and reached for the door handle of her truck. "Aww, shit!" she sputtered as her hand burned on the hot metal. Shaking it, she pulled the bloody kerchief from her back pocket and wrapped it around her hand before she tried to open the door a second time. Following Coco in, she started the engine and rolled down the windows. It must have been at least 160 degrees inside. She reached for a ziplock bag with a leaf of aloe vera and squeezed a large dab on the red skin. one-handed, she drove to the airport, cussing and glad Shiichoo couldn't hear her.

*  *  *

Back in the hangar, she found her cousin already deep into the plane engine. "Any luck?" she asked, holding the lid to the water jug for Coco to get a drink. "Ah, hell," she decided and poured water on Coco's head and back before she turned the jug on herself. She was dripping water onto the floor when Daniel got her attention.

His worried voice reached her. "Far as I can figure, the fuel tank selector valve didn't work."

"And?" Loni gave him her full attention.

"Didn't switch to the second tank."

"So he ran out of gas?"

"Yep."

"That's what Rosie said," Loni mused as she walked up and leaned into the plane with Daniel. "But his second tank was full, remember? Do you know why the valve failed?" She looked to see what Daniel had in his hand.

"Here." Daniel showed her one end of the valve. Hardened epoxy clogged the opening.

"Oh my god!" Loni took the valve and stared at it. "This is murder."

"Be my guess."

Stunned, she inspected the engine where the open ends of the bent and battered gas lines dangled. "This must be what the thief was after. He was banging on the gas lines, trying to break the valve off."

"Pretty stupid, though, if you ask me." Daniel pointed to the epoxy. "Left a thumb print when he put it in."

Loni smiled broadly. "Or he was in a hurry." Suddenly she focused on a dark streak above the dangling lines. "Daniel, did you cut yourself on this engine?"

"No. See?" He showed her his knuckles.

Loni was staring at the blood when Daniel's voice finally got through to her.

"What's wrong with your dog?"

Dazed, Loni walked to the tail of the plane where Coco was frantically scratching at a small door. She rubbed the dog's head to quiet her. "What's in here?"

Daniel answered, "Storage. Sometimes luggage."

She pulled the door open. Inside was a dark blue gym bag. Coco twisted in circles, going ballistic.

"She smells drugs. From her reaction, my guess is cocaine."

"Wow. I've never seen a dog do that before."

"Anybody else fly this plane?"

"Not that I know of." He was watching Coco. "How long did it take you to teach her?"

"I didn't. She belonged to my partner."

"That the one that got killed?"

Loni dodged the question. "Can you find out where he went this trip?"

"I think so," he answered, walking into the office. "I'll call his home port." He dialed the phone number for the tower at Caliente Airport. "He made a flight plan to San Diego. Return time scheduled this morning."

Coco was whining and whipping around in circles. "Coco, sit," Loni ordered the dog. "Enough." She turned to her cousin again. "Well hell, Daniel, do me a favor and don't let anyone near this plane." She stared at the valve in her hand. "I need to take this." Placing it in an evidence bag, she rubbed the dark spot on the engine with a Q-Tip.

"Be a bad day when you report it," Daniel said anxiously. "This doesn't happen here." He stood, looking away from her.

Loni waited.

"James isn't going to like this."

"What's he got to do with it?"

"Nothing I can say for sure." Head down, Daniel refused to meet Loni’s eyes.

"What do you know?"

"Not really anything. Just something he said."

"Maybe he's upset because I'm back."

Daniel gave her a studied look. "You do know not everything's all about you, right?" He had always said that, and she knew he never meant it. "Anyway, it started before you came home. Something's bothering him." He walked away. "Watch your back." After a few more steps he turned back. "And take care of James. You hear me?" He turned away again.

"Cousin!" Loni called to his retreating back. "Don't mention the valve to anyone."

Daniel kept walking. Flipping a back wave, he drove away in his truck.

Opening the gym bag, she stared down at the bundles of money left in the plane. Last night's thief couldn't have been after it. The murderer must have been trying to get the valve and shot at her when she interrupted. Did the valve and money have anything to do with each other? She quickly shoved the money and valve with the copies of Rene's notebook and phone numbers into Uncle Herm's safe.

Loni dug the bullet from last night out of the wall, vacuumed, and picked up fibers, hair, and residue from the plane to send to the state lab. Paul was probably right, Loni decided, DNA be damned. The plane did pretty much fall out of the sky. Sealing off the plane as much as she could, she got ready to drive to her grandparents' ranch. As much as she wished she could crawl into bed, she couldn't miss seeing them a second day.

*  *  *

Loni stopped at an old barbed wire gate. Wired between tall weather beaten posts, badly bleached and rotted, a rust-streaked sign had faded letters "Wagner Ranch" that were barely readable. Getting out, she opened the gate and drove through, making sure to close the gate behind her. Driving on, she cursed the billions of times she opened and closed that damned gate, swearing that she would put in a cattle guard. Winding around a hill, she saw the ranch house tucked up inside a crescent shaped volcanic black hill that shaded it from the hot afternoon sun. No matter where she was, this was the only place she felt safe, but it didn't mean she wanted to live here anymore.

As she got to the main gate of the ranch, buildings revealed faded and broken boards with missing screens on the dirty windows. Nothing matched in the collection of buildings scattering the landscape. There was even a sandwich house Bahb said was built in the early 1900s. She remembered wishing it had been a hogan, but her granddad grew up mostly in the O'odham Nation.

She drove the last quarter of a mile through pasture land, a homestead that had belonged to her great grandfather on her father's side. Old salt cedars and eucalyptus trees grew larger as she neared the circular drive in front of the main house. The reddish tan adobe house had been built Spanish ranchero style with a walled court around the front and kitchen side of the house. On the other side, a screened-in porch filled with bunk beds ran its length. She had slept many nights out there in the heat of the summer. More salt cedars sheltered the porch in a fluffy line of dark green needles, providing dense shade against the relentless sun. A small oasis in the desert, big salt cedars surrounded the house.

Two small boys playing dump truck with cardboard nail boxes in the silky soft dirt below a salt cedar tree jumped up to pet Coco. Her long tongue gave each one a lick before she ran to the screen door. Pima, Loni decided. Their teeth were lightly layered with brown from the high fluoride content in the lower Gila River Valley.

A cool blast of air from the water cooler vent in the ceiling hit Loni as she opened the screeching screen door and walked into the cool, dark interior of the living room, the largest room in the house. A huge fireplace filled one wall, and a collection of Indian rugs between two doors leading to bedrooms were on another. The picture window beside the entrance opened onto a desert scene that stretched into the horizon, and on the fourth wall a double wide archway led into the dining room.

Bahb sat in his recliner under the cooler vent reading 'The Cattleman' magazine. The thin brass lamp with swirling, brightly colored stained glass feathers wrapped around the shade highlighted his face. "When did you learn to read, Bahb," Loni teased him.

"Learn teaching you." Bahb looked up, his mouth quirking toward a smile.

"Where's Shiichoo?"

"Kitchen." He went back to his magazine.

When she pushed open the swinging door into the kitchen, the heat nearly knocked her over. "Holy s —" Loni gulped the rest of the word at her grandmother's disapproving scowl. "Shut down the stove before we die in here."

A huge black cooking wood stove sat out from a plastered wall worn through in spots to the adobe bricks. Wooden countertops, grayed from years of cleaning, ran under the open dirty-gray cabinets the same color as the walls behind them. Shiichoo stood, Apache ramrod straight, in front of the corner sink, silhouetted in the double windows behind her. Hanging from the ceiling was a huge wagon wheel light fixture with dim lights that flickered like candles. The peeling, faded red and white checked linoleum covering the floor showed black patches where it had lost its pattern in the path from the sink to the stove and to the back door.

Sweat poured down her grandma's face, crowned by the snow-white braid that circled her head, and darkened the pale blue of her blouse. Gaunt and rope thin, her face reflected a thousand lives. She fanned herself with the hem of her faded, rainbow-striped apron. Loni had made it for her during home economics her sophomore year.

"Funny," Shiichoo retorted. "Bring in some wood."

"I thought we agreed you would cook outside."

"Maybe I agreed in your imagination. Just as hot out there as it is in here."

"Then don't cook."

"Don't smart mouth me." Shiichoo glared at her. "I can still whip you."

Loni laughed. She stared down at her grandma before picking her up and carrying her into the living room, depositing her in her easy chair next to Bahb. "That heat will make you sicker. Dinezaa! Dinezaa! It's too hot!" She looked at her granddad. "Can't you keep her out of the kitchen?"

"I'll watch first. See how you do it." Bahb ducked his head to hide his smile.

"So what if it's hot?" Her grandma struggled to get out of the chair. "Get used to it, child."

Loni gently held her down. "I won't have to after your electric stove gets here."

"What electric stove?"

"The one that's coming Thursday with a new refrigerator and dishwasher. I wanted them sooner, but I keep forgetting that this town doesn't have daily deliveries." Loni kept babbling, "The electrician's coming next Tuesday. He had to go to Four Corners this week to get his mother."

"Humph," Shiichoo said. "Don't know why anyone would want that mother-in-law there while she's having a baby. She has to take care of her too."

Loni laughed. Shiichoo knew everything that happened to her neighbors.

Bahb stared into space. "Don't remember any mother-in-law. I think you drink from the Hassyampa."

"What does that mean?" Loni asked.

"Come from O'odham maybe. Mean 'Drink it water and tell lie always.'"

Shiichoo ignored Bahb and kept staring at her as Willie walked in and sat on the couch across from Bahb. As tall as Loni, he appeared much smaller as he sank into the broken springs. She was surprised the couch hadn't fallen apart. From the patches of cloth on the once yellow couch, it wouldn't be long now. But then, she said that twenty years ago.

Facing Shiichoo again, Loni sputtered, "Well, we've had electricity for... What? A hundred years now? You don't have to live like the Jessups."

"I never!" Shiichoo sputtered back. "I don't have dirt floors."

Solemnly Bahb said, "I miss eggshells behind stove."

"I never!" Shiichoo glared at him.

"One thing," Willie said. "Shiichoo don't hide behind house when anyone come. I saw Mz Jessup do that."

"Isn't she the one that found a couple of rustlers branding her cows?" Loni vaguely remembered hearing something about it.

"Yi," Bahb answered. "Jessups never brand cows. Like us. She knew ever' one. She held rifle on them and said 'Take that runnin' iron and change that to my bran'.' When done, she took cows home."

Willie laughed. "She tell them they did good job."

Snorting, Shiichoo finally said. "Glass top?"

Loni relaxed. "Yes, ma'am." She waited a few beats. "And I ordered refrigeration, too. Oh. And a new hot water heater."

All three of them stared at her.

"That all?" Shiichoo finally asked.

"No. I ordered windows too."

"That all?"

"For now." Loni kept her head ducked.

"Who's paying for all this?"

"I am."

"You rob a bank?"

"Nope. Service station at Salome," Loni shot back. "That's what Sissy Newmire did, right? Got a nice farm out of it, too."

"It was a service station in Phoenix, and she married the farm," Shiichoo snapped back at her.

"Well," Loni retorted. "Never did like her husband, anyway." She fled the room through the kitchen door. Then she poked her head back in. "I had some money saved." And she fled once again.

Through the flapping door she heard, "Tell me you did not buy a set of encyclopedias!"

She stuck her head back in one last time. "Don't forget we're painting the kitchen tomorrow. Don't light that stove."

"I'll think about it."

Loni drove away with a big smile on her face. She finished cooking her grandma's meal and left it on the table before she disappeared out the back door with a handful of tamales from the refrigerator. She let Shiichoo have the last word.

FROM: Loni Wagner

TO: Sandi@gmailyahoo.com

DATE: July 2

SUBJECT: Still not looking

I'm just home from visiting my grandparents. You asked me what kind of names Bahb and Shiichoo are. Bahb is Papago for grandfather on my mother's side. Well. He's also got some Navajo from his dad's side and mixes both cultures in strange ways. I would call him Bahb anyway because his Papago part speaks both Spanish and the O'odham language. He knows the Athabaskan language because Navajos and Apaches both spoke it, but I could never learn Athabaskan beyond a few words he taught me.

Everybody calls him Bob. That's fine with him because the Navajo part of him doesn't like anyone knowing his real name. According to Bahb, the less someone says your real name, the less they can harm you. He could be right, but it makes for a short list of friends.

Shiichoo is grandmother in Apache. Shiichoo doesn't remember much of her Apache life. She was taken to the Indian boarding school when she was only five, but she had a few fond memories of her own Shiichoo, so she wanted me to call her that. Some sort of spiritual connection to her past.

It was good seeing them today, even though I pissed off Shiichoo. I told her about ordering the electric stove yesterday. And the refrigeration, hot water tank, and dishwasher. And the windows.

Wait until she hears about the rest, especially the bug man to spray the scorpions. Every time I see one I start shaking inside. God, do they hurt! It wouldn't be so bad if they didn't crawl everywhere, up bed legs, across the ceiling, into shoes. At least they can't crawl up the glass quart jars my bed sits in. As long as the bedding stays tucked... off the floor... I'm scaring myself again so I'll say goodnight.

Oh, before I forget. I talked with a really nice woman today at work. She's my day dispatcher. She's Mexican with Irish somewhere. Incredible green eyes and amazing dark red hair. She's sort of pretty in a sizzling, over dressed way — but not cheap. I'm betting that she dresses that way to get what she wants from the redneck assholes around here. And I'm sure it works. Oh, and I didn't mention the "come fuck me" shoes. Don't start pushing me. Still not looking and certainly not for a straight woman.

Love to you et al.

Loni

Loni checked around her bed for scorpions as she tucked her bedding in a little further and slid in between the cool sheets. Six whole hours before she had to go back to work. She hoped the motorcycle didn't come back tonight.

CHAPTER 3

July 3, 12:30 a.m.

RUMDUM BRAIN DEAD, Loni dragged herself into the station to turn in the evidence she'd stored in Uncle Herm's big office safe. As always, she had tossed and turned all afternoon in the warm sticky air, dreaming about Maria's death. The best part of Loni, the part that lived in the world, had been ripped out of her when she held Maria that last time. She watched it run down the gutter with Maria's blood as freezing cold settled in her chest that night and never left.

Cringing at the clomp of her leather soled boots echoing in her ears as she walked around the counter, Loni reminded herself for the hundredth time to replace the leather with rubber. She dropped a box on the counter in front of the rotund booking clerk who worked the shift before Bobby and stared at him. He ignored her. She had seen him before as she waited to start her shift. His name tag read "Harris."

Annoyed, she opened the door behind him marked "Property." She dropped in a chair facing rows of shelves holding folder sized boxes just inside the door and waited for him. Coco followed her in. "Down, Coco," Loni ordered as she leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes against the glare of the bank of hanging lights.

Five minutes later, Harris stuck his head in the door. "Need this inventoried?"

"Yep."

"Now?"

"Yep."

Another five minutes later, Harris carried the box into the property room and sat it on a table next to Loni.

"That dog bite?"

"Only if you piss her off." Loni closed her eyes and tried not to smile. "Just Harris? Is that your first or last name?" She already knew the answer.

"Both," he answered, skirting the dog. "My mom loved redundancy." He opened the box. "Need a receipt?" As usual, his round face flamed red with embarrassment.

"Yes," Loni answered, one eye opened a slit to watch him. "There's a phone and notebook I took off Rene, a shitload of money, a blood sample, and drug samples from Rene's plane as well as other debris from the scene. And a valve from the plane. The bullet's from a wall where someone shot at me. Ask the state lab to analyze the DNA on the blood sample. I think it's from the person who shot at me. And tell them to lift the print off the epoxy in the valve. That should be from the person who murdered Rene. Did you get all that?"

Loni smiled, watching Harris's round brown eyes widen at her flat speech as he picked up the plastic bags with the valve and bullet. "Think the valve and bullet are the same guy?"

Loni shrugged. "Don't know, but it makes sense." Harris opened the bag with the money, dropping it like a hot branding iron. Loni's laugh burst into the silence. "Maybe trace the money. See if the names and numbers in the notebook lead anywhere. Maybe trace the phone calls. And see if they can find a bullet match."

"That all?"

"Pretty much."

"I gotta count it before I give you a receipt," he said firmly, moving in slow motion. Reaching in the bag, he warned, "You have to watch me. With both eyes."

"Fine." Loni leaned back again in the rickety wooden chair. Ignoring the sound of Harris's voice counting the money, Loni closed her eyes again, dreading the patrol coming up.

A half hour later, Harris handed her the receipt for the box contents and the form for the lab to sign. "Have a safe night."

Pocketing the receipt, Loni got up and walked back around to the front of the counter to sign in for her shift and wait for Bobby to take over the booking desk. She ran her hand across the cool wood as she walked the eight foot of its length and felt the years of use and misuse in the nicks and chips dug into the dark surface. Bored, she eyed the filing cabinets lined up on the wall behind the long counter. Nothing was computerized.

Bobby was on duty now. He nodded at her as she signed in. "No extra assignments this morning. Bet you're glad about that."

"I will be if you keep it that way the rest of the night."

He sighed in agreement. "Don't count on it."

It was time for her to hit the road.

Coco kept shoving in the way as Loni tried to unlock the door to her SUV. Dancing in excitement, the dog scraped her leg on the opening door before she jumped in and huddled against the seat until Loni started the engine. Immediately Coco's mood changed to buoyant. She always seemed to worry until they were on the road.

*  *  *

They had not been on the road long when the radio crackled. "Crap!" Loni ended the call with Bobby. Another bar fight. She didn't know which she hated more, domestics or bar fights. Or coyotes. Loni turned around and sped back on the straight road across the desert toward The Oasis Bar. The large red and green neon sign showed up from miles away. Except for the occasional weave around old black dormant volcano hills and through washes or an occasional haphazard grouping of salt cedars around a tank or ranch and palo verde trees lining a wash, nothing much got in the way of far off views.

Surrounded on three sides by salt cedars, the old adobe bar had once been part of a string of stagecoach stops that turned into century old auto stops marking Old Highway 85 as it crossed the Arizona desert. Cars were lucky to travel fifty miles in a night in the dirt ruts. It was too hot and too dangerous to travel during the day. The shacks behind the bar where travelers stayed out of the heat were long gone, along with the service stations and small grocery stores where prospectors and traveling Indians traded for supplies and locals met to settle world issues.

Most of the cars were parked in a row across the front of the bar, but a few were up close to the trees, backed in until the bumpers hit the trunks. They huddled under long branches, their owners hoping to keep the cars out of the sun and cool enough to touch. It was long past dark, which meant the cars had been there a long time. The ones with splotches of paint eaten off by the erosive acid in the salt dripping trees were repeats. Loni searched for cars and pickups to see if she recognized any. These tree bumpers could be real mean drunks.

After 1:30 a.m., it was still over 90 degrees. Loni slipped around each car, watching for moving shadows in the soft glow of the moon. Nothing. She tried to peer in one of the windows of the bar, but it was covered.

Cautiously pulling open the thick wood door, her hand on her gun butt, she stepped inside and to the left, crab walking against the wall as she watched for flying bodies. All appeared to be quiet, even orderly, no chairs broken or scattered, no overturned tables.

Six cowboys with their hats on sat at one end of the long bar closest to her. Four couples perched at tall tables dotted around a small dance floor. Large hanging oval fixtures lit the three pool tables strung along the back wall. Pools of light bouncing off the green felt on the tables created a greenish tinge on the faces of the two couples who were playing.

Two cowboys at the bar pushed at each other as they watched her crabwalk along the wall. She had been laughed at before and she hoped they wouldn't get too stupid while trying to have a good time.

Moving toward the bar, Loni kept her back to the wall as she glanced around the room again. Old movie posters were taped in the windows. That's why she couldn't see into the bar from outside. Somebody fed the jukebox, and a couple got up to dance. Dropping her hand off the butt of her gun, Loni relaxed and approached the barkeep.

"You call for help?"

"Nope." He stared at her as he kept drying glasses.

Out of the corner of her eye, Loni saw Chui come out of the bathroom, smirking. She waited for him. "Did you call in?"

Chui shrugged and climbed on a bar stool in front of her.

Deciding to ignore him, Loni started to turn toward the door just as a drunk cowboy got off his stool. Sitting beside him, Chui put a foot out and tripped the drunk, sending him sprawling in front of her. The drunk struggled up off the floor, fighting mad, ready to swing. He looked strong as a bull. With an evil grin, Chui said to Loni, "What'd you want to do that for?"

"Whoa," she apologized to the drunk, who was staggering toward her as she kept backing and dodging. "Sorry." Finally the drunk got tired of trying to find her and staggered back to his stool, muttering unintelligibly. Following him back to his stool, Loni relieved the unhappy cowboy of his keys and tossed them to the barkeep as she tried to stare Chui down.

"Shit runs down hill," he said. "And dykes with it." He turned away from her.

Wishing she could just shoot him, she walked out the door.

The rest of the shift was uneventful. She signed out and was on her way to her grandparents' house before Chief got to work and found something else to get mad about.

*  *  *

Loni drove past the ranch house and parked beside the tired barn that squatted behind the house, its plank siding faded rock hard gray from drying in the incessant heat. Beside the barn, four square shacks squatted beneath a row of eucalyptus trees. Each had a screened-in porch and a rusty evaporative cooler along with rusted galvanized tin roofs that thrummed with a loud drumbeat when it rained, which wasn't often enough.

Parking under a salt dripping salt cedar, Loni got out with Coco at her heels. She stopped to pet Jack, Bahb's old dog, who had dug a hole under a tree and curled up in it to keep cool. He had been her dog until he was three and she left to go to college. A border collie, Jack was once a great heeling cowdog. She pictured him as he raced around the heels of kicking cattle and never got walloped, like a fish dodging rocks in a fast-moving stream. Those days were gone. Coco raced circles around him, trying to play with him.

"Cool it, Coco." she warned. "His play days are over." She ran her hands down Jack's sides and along his shaky legs, feeling for hot spots and ticks. "What a good old boy you are." He was relegated to alarm dog and gave out a single woof at Coco to prove he could do his job. With a couple of final rubs on his head, she herded Coco out to the barn. "Stay," Loni told her.

Three gunny sacks, each cut into a feeding halter, hung right inside the barn door. She filled them with rolled oats and walked out of the barn, looking around for the horses. She spotted them at the far end of the large corral that widened out from the barn into a grassy field surrounded by a barbed wire fence. Loni walked under the windmill, stopping at a long cement water trough. Feeling groggy and cranky, she leaned over to bury her head in the water and stood again, shaking herself like a wet dog as the cooling water ran down her back and between her breasts. God, it felt good.

She stood at the gate into the corral, looking out the once familiar scene. Everything seemed so much smaller than she remembered it. At the south end of the corral two determined mesquite trees stood their ground. Battered from years of horse teeth gnawing on them looking for salt, their limbs were bent out of shape and stripped of life. The small sparse lacy leaves barely fluttered in the slow hot breeze. Even fewer yellow, pea-like bean pods hung from their tops, waiting for a good wind. Desert raised horses preferred the mesquite bean to grain of any kind. Loni never understood it. It was bubble gum chewy without the sticky satisfaction. The only thing worse than its sickly sweet taste was Shiichoo's cactus candy.

Two horses stood in the pasture, stomping and occasionally swishing their tails against the flies as the hot sun beat down on their backs. Roanie was the closest to her. He wasn't the biggest of horses or the most beautiful, but he had a powerful essence. His big bumpy head sat on a short squatty neck, and his knees were so knobby they appeared deformed on his small legs. His rear end, though, was all quarter horse. Heavily muscled legs bowed out on both sides of his hocks all the way down to the knees instead of in like an old tired cowboy. His body flowed with amazing dance steps when he cut cattle.

The other horse, Paint, had been Willie's best friend as long as Loni could remember. A small desert broom tail Indian pony with large brown spots over white, he was a beautiful paint with the black, flowing mane and arched neck and tail of his Arabian ancestors.

Holding the sacks in front of her, Loni whistled, laughing as two heads jerked up in unison, their four ears twitching. Not sure where to look, they saw her at the same time and came trotting, small clumps of dust puffing around their hooves on the well worn trail through the grass. She stood in the shade of the barn overhang, enjoying the sight of them.

She opened the gate and walked into the corral, hurrying toward the shade of the lean to where Stonewall, their old pale yellow Brahma bull, stood, waiting. Both horses followed right behind her, pushing their noses under her arms to get to the grain sacks. Loni giggled again as she ducked under their necks to keep from being squashed between them as they vied for the grain sacks.

After maneuvering around the horses, Loni reached the shade of Stonewall's lean to. Always a gentleman, he waited his turn, stomping a huge hoof and flicking his lion tail over his back as he nodded his huge head up and down. She smiled, recalling her uncle's description of Stonewall as he flapped ears big enough to eat off. "Looks like a VW bug," he said. "With both doors wide open."

Roanie was first, of course. He stayed head of the pack. Pulling the sack up around his nose and hanging the halter behind his ears, she moved her hands down his legs, feeling for hot spots. It was a habit. He was a joy to ride while he worked, and didn't put up with any interference from the rider. He knew what needed to be done before the rider did, and he loved doing it. He especially loved bringing up the rear so that he could run up and bite a cow on the butt if it didn't stay in line. God help any cow that tried to run. And god help the rider that wasn't ready. He could spin on a dime and often did when he was trailing a herd. Because he never quit, he was famous along the Colorado River for running cattle in the bush. He was fearless.

During his sixteen years with Bahb, Roanie would disappear for days at a time and, just as suddenly, reappear, so beat up and crippled that he could barely walk for weeks. Loni never understood why Bahb didn't hunt down the thieves and hurt them. Hurt them bad. She would. Roanie was eighteen now, too old to work hard again, but he still wanted to go.

She pulled on Paint's black mane, leading him away from Roanie to get some space. Holding the sack up to him, she studied his teeth as she slid the strap over his ears. She counted the lines around his eyes, trying to figure out how old he was as she rubbed his small ears. "Bet you're twelve by now, huh old friend? I count twelve lines." Paint wiggled his ears to listen. "Then again, maybe not." His sweet face was trusting as a puppy dog. A direct descendant from the Arabian stallions the government brought in to improve the desert broomtail, most of the horses were too small to work cattle and became another worthless experiment like the camels whose soft hoofs couldn't walk on the hard, sharp rocks and cactus covering the desert floor. Bahb told her about seeing the last camel when he was a child, sometime during the late thirties. That camel spent his last days on the sand banks of the Hassampa River.

Loni turned to Stonewall, patiently waiting under his lean to. She grinned at his huge wiggling ears as he gently stuck his massive head forward, pushing his nose into the sack. Eyes half closed, he chewed, a happy boy. Everyone on the ranch had learned to ride on him. If anyone slipped, he would stop until they regained their balance or fell off. His huge hump made a natural saddle. She was always sorry he never sired any calves, something wrong with him from the beginning. But Bahb said the Spirit Way was as it was supposed to be. "He come, he stay. It always his home."

Waiting for them to finish feeding, she looked around, amazed that Stonewall's old shed was still standing. Four forked mesquite branches stuck in the ground held other limbs that shaped the roof. The sun shining through the hundreds of holes in the sad, rust-eaten tin sheets nailed onto the posts made patterns on Stonewall's back. Loni knew Stonewall could push the shed over if he ever decided to lean on it. She hoped he never wanted to scratch his butt on one of the posts.

When they finished chewing, Loni pulled the sacks off their heads and returned to the barn, hanging the empty gunny sacks back on their nails. She looked up at the well pulley above her. Maria had paid twenty-five dollars for it. They picked it up on one of their trips home when they took a side trip to the Verde River up on the Apache Indian Reservation at Fort McDowell. Driving by a sandwich house, she had spotted the wheel over a long abandoned well. Maria made Loni stop while she knocked on the door and asked the price.

The twenty-five dollars didn't include taking the wheel off the wood frame, and hanging over a deep hole didn't excite Loni one bit. Lucky for her, the ancient wood frame was so old she was able to pull it down and remove the board attached to the wheel from the frame. Loni remembered how successful she felt at pleasing Maria until twenty minutes later she got stuck in the river sand and had to ask a couple of her Apache brothers to pull her out. Maria never let her forget about that day. Whenever Maria wanted to drive, she reminded Loni of every mistake she had ever made, especially the two men pulling her battered truck out of the sand. Loni would give anything to have Maria back, even when she pointed her finger in Loni's chest and recited her litany of Loni's faults.

Signaling Coco to follow, she stuck her head into Willie's bunkroom. "Time to paint."

Willie stood and grinned at her. "Bahb get brush, too?"

"Of course!"

"I paint other side of room then."

"Me, too." They grinned at each other like co conspirators and walked back to the house, arm in arm. Willie had been her best friend all her life. Rock hard wiry, he could hold down a large cow. He came and went around the ranch and across the desert like a ghost. Loni never knew where he was. He just appeared. When he rode Paint through a herd of deer, few would shy away or even lift their heads to watch him.

"I swear, Bahb, I had already cleared that gully," she told her granddad when she had been out to help them a couple of weeks earlier. "He came out right behind me with a cow. How does he do that?"

Bahb grinned. "Hope you're better at cops and robbers."

"Nah," Loni shot back. "I prefer cowboys and Indians. I'm the cowboy."

"Like I said."

*  *  *

After a cold lunch, Loni cleaned the kitchen. Against her grandma's great protest, the wood stove had been left unfed since yesterday.

"What wrong with gray? It go with everything," Willie said from the doorway.

"Those walls are gray from age and soot." Loni was determined. "I want to see sunshine in here."

"Leave door open," said Willie. "I wash windows." He dropped paint brushes and tape on the floor in a corner and went out again, mumbling about too much sun already.

"How'd you get those two to help you, Shiichoo?" Loni whispered in her ear.

"Easy," she whispered back. "If you want either of them to do anything, tell them they're too old for it."

Loni helped her grandma pull everything off the counters and out of the cabinets and onto the table and floor. "Lordy, Shiichoo. You have enough cooking stuff for five families." Loni picked up a cut glass bowl. "You know? I've been looking at this thing all my life and I still don't know what it is."

Swatting Loni with a dish towel, her grandmother took the glass bowl out of her hand. "It's a finger bowl."

"Have I ever seen you use a finger bowl?"

"Have I ever used a finger bowl? Let me think on that," Shiichoo made fun of her as she carefully placed the bowl on the table. "I keep it because it's your history."

"That dog have better memory." Bahb nodded at Coco who was underfoot. "Things from father side."

"Did I know that?" Loni felt confused.

"Only said thousand times."

"Where was I when you told me?" Loni took a huge plate from a tall stack. Shiichoo took the plate away from her and put it back. Picking up the stack, Bahb carried it to the table.

"What are those, anyway?" Loni remembered the dishes, but never saw any of them used.

"Chargers," Shiichoo answered.

"What do they charge?"

"If you don't get busy," Bahb warned her. "I'll charge you."

"Well?"

"Your great grandmother," Bahb explained. "She from back East where they had big dinners. Your dad remember from when little. Set other dishes on this one at time. Your dad hated how long just to eat."

Loni looked around at all the dishes. "You kept these for me?"

"Didn't keep them for me."

"Do you have anything from your family?"

"Can't think of any."

"Yes, you do." Bahb watched Willie returned with a tarp and two gallons of paint.

"What?" Shiichoo asked.

"Your mother's rug sticks."

Shiichoo gently smiled as she pulled out the last of the glass dishes and covered everything on the table with a plastic red-checkered cloth that had seen better days. "One of the few memories I have of her. Sitting at her feet keeping the wool from tangling." Shiichoo took one end of the tarp and helped Bahb cover the floor. She sighed. "Never got a chance to learn to use them."

"I thought you never saw your family again after you were taken to the boarding school." Loni spread newspapers on the counter. "Wasn't everyone gone when you went back to find them? How did you find the sticks?"

Bahb poured yellow paint in a small can. "Not ever'one," he said. "Remember your aunt Gate?" We visited her just before we went south to work."

Shiichoo's dark eyes stared into space. "Yes. She gave me the sticks. Good heavens. That was over fifty years ago. I still remember her tiny house leaning on the side of a deep arroyo." She turned to Loni. "They threw trash over the banks in the high country. I think I like that better than the trash hills they made on this desert."

Bahb laughed. "What I remember are the chickens sticking their heads up through the holes in her kitchen floor."

"I remember that." Shiichoo fussed at Bahb. "She really got mad at you and told us to leave. She thought you were kicking them in the head."

"I no kick. I feed them her... what that bitter stuff?"

"Acorn bread, I think. She didn't leach it very well. I don't remember you feeding those chickens."

"Well, I had to. They kept pecking my toes!"

Willie nearly fell off his ladder, laughing. Fortunately, Loni was sitting down painting baseboards when she fell over in a fit of giggles.

"She give you rug sticks when we leave." Bahb started rolling paint above Loni. "Bet old coot felt guilty she keep them."

"I remember those sticks now." Loni dodged Bahb's splatters. "They're in your closet. You never let me play with them."

"It was all I had from my childhood home. I wish we had culture to pass on to you like your gringo grandparents. I never even learned how to use her sticks."

Laying her brush down, Loni stood and gave Shiichoo a big hug, fighting tears. "You gave me a home, the best home anyone could have. Nothing else matters." She returned to her painting. "Why don't we find a way to display the sticks?"

With a pleased look, Shiichoo continued covering the counters with newspapers.

"Shiichoo. What was my mother like?" All anyone had told her about her mother was that she was sweet and pretty. And died giving birth to her.

"She not like you were." Bahb grinned down at her. "She easy to raise."

"I don't remember being hard to raise." Loni started to whine until she got another one of her grandma's famous skinny looks and changed the subject. "Bahb? You got anything left from your past?"

"No. They take ever'ting at Indian school. Never got anything back."

"You never told me about the school. How old were you?"

"I a teen before school. Don't know how old. Don't know when born."

"What it was like? Do you remember?"

"I never forget. Like yesterday. Big fence with barbed wire across top. Boys sit on ground crying in hot sun. Shaved heads and overalls." Bahb turned away. "Little ones so scared they wet bed at night." Bahb shook his head. "Army wool blankets so scratchy it hurt. So hot." Bahb was quiet a minute. "Little ones, they suffer so."

Loni had never heard Bahb say so much at one time. She stayed silent as Shiichoo began to talk.

"I remember when I came. I was only five. I must have cried for months." She smiled at Bahb. "At least my hair had grown back long again by the time you got there."

"How'd they catch you, Bahb?"

"My pop die in house fire. Drunk. I stay in brush, hunting." Bahb climbed up a ladder and rolled paint on the walls as Loni finished the baseboards. "Still be out there but Ma take sick. Nurse turn me in." He climbed down and searched for missed spots. "Heard later Ma die."

Shiichoo walked over and kissed Bahb on the cheek. "The day you showed up was the best day of my life." Bahb hugged her in return.

"Good thing she there, too," Bahb said to Loni. "Hardest thing, no food unless learn names. Shiichoo would save me food."

"What food did you like?" Loni searched for happier memories.

"I liked the white bread in cold milk with a little sugar." Shiichoo smiled. "Only time we got sugar. I used to tear off the crust and put it in the milk and hide the center. I would put the bread in book to dry flat and pretend it was Indian bread from home." She grinned. "Sometimes it took the print off the pages. I often wondered what the next person who got the book thought."

"Not matter." Bahb patted her back. "Most of us not read."

"True," Shiichoo answered. "And even those of us who could played dumb. It would get them so exasperated; they would get tired of beating us and leave us alone."

"I remember this one teacher. Big man with bad temper and wet evil eyes. He break boy's arm that not move fast enough."

"I remember that. He was a sweet boy from my tribe. He was never the same after that."

Loni admired Willie, loving the way his black head looked against the pale yellow of the paint. "You missed a spot," Loni teased him.

"Only spot I miss is your face." Willie reached down and painted a swath across Loni's forehead before he dabbed dots down her cheek. "That better," he said with a straight face. "You good Apache warrior now."

It was dark before the kitchen got its last pale yellow coat and Loni headed out the door. Shiichoo loved her bright, open kitchen. That beautiful brown wrinkled face beaming at her was all Loni needed.

*  *  *

Loni watched the setting sun cast deep red streaks across the sky as she drove home thinking, There must be a lot of dirt in the air to create such vivid colors. Hoping a dust storm wasn't coming, she glanced in the rearview mirror and saw a motorcycle behind her. When she turned into the hangar, it continued down the road toward one of the airport houses and she lost sight of it. There were too many motorcycles around here. Rolling her shoulders to relieve the tension, she climbed down from her truck, motioning Coco to follow her. A yellow blob of paint bobbed at the end of her wagging brown tail.

Coyotes yipped to one another in the distance. They were on the run, maybe about to share a supper after they took turns running a jack rabbit into exhaustion. Loni heard a high keening. Coco almost knocked Loni down as she bolted up the stairs. Grabbing the rail, Loni shook her head and followed Coco up the rest of the way. When she opened the door, the dog shoved her aside again and immediately leaped on the bed, curling up into a small ball. Loni had to laugh at her antics. "Maria used to brag about how brave and protective you were," she teased Coco. "She should see you now."

Sitting at her table, Loni opened her laptop and wrote Sandi.

FROM: Loni Wagner

TO: Sandi@gmailyahoo.com

DATE: July 3

SUBJECT: Still not looking

Spent the afternoon painting my grandma's kitchen. I think she liked it. While we worked, they talked about growing up Indian. School, loss of family, hardships. It humbled me to think of what they gave up to move into the white man's world to raise me. My grandma's health really scares me. I swear if she turns sideways she'll disappear. I can only hope I'm doing the right thing by trying to make her a little more comfortable. Maybe give some of what I took back to her.

Coco still misses Maria. So do I. I'm so glad Maria has a sister like you. Someone to talk to who knew her and understands what I'm going through. I know you tell me to move on, but I can't.

Love to et al.

Loni

So tired that she felt she couldn't move another inch, Loni climbed onto the bed and pushed Coco's huddled body over, smiling at her behavior.

Until she remembered the motorcycle.

CHAPTER 4

July 4, 2:51 a.m.

BACK ON PATROL, Loni parked at one of her favorite speed traps. High in the sky, the still bright waning moon was a frosted light globe surrounded by tiny lights. A silvery luminescence settled on everything around her as she waited at a rest stop outside town. Restless in the quiet of the silhouetted greasewood and cactus, she stepped out of the SUV to lean against the warm hood. City noise and moving lights, once her norm, were gone. She poured coffee from her thermos for something to do. It had been nearly three hours and all she had counted was eight cars sporadically making their careful way home. On the Fourth of July weekend, there should be more. What happened to party time?

Lost in memories, she smiled to herself. Every holiday in Maria's family was an event, and Maria delighted in attending every birth, baptism, confirmation, wedding, birthday party, anniversary, and other gathering that had no reason. Going to one of them wore Loni out. Maria's older sister Sandi helped Mama cook while Maria conned Loni into helping her babysit all the grandchildren while the rest of the family played touch football in the huge backyard. Thinking about the parties in the quiet around her felt spooky.

Checking to make sure there was no traffic, she let Coco out to pee. "Where is everybody?" she asked the dog.

Coco barked one sharp retort. Loni had no idea what it meant.

Working at using up more time, she opened the door for Coco to get back into the car and pulled out, slowly driving south. She drove over to the freeway, hoping to stop a few speeders on their way to California. All she saw were a few fireworks way in the distance. Finally her time dragged to an end. She was glad to sign out and be done for the day until she met Chief coming in the entrance.

"Follow me," he barked out of a contorted face, limping on down the hall.

Oh, shit! Loni cringed. Here it comes. She quietly followed him into the office and started to sit down. Tully was in the other chair with the usual smirk on his face.

 "Don't," the Chief frowned, "sit." He stared at her a moment through blue faded eyes that popped out of his hanging face. There was an unhealthy purple tinge to his skin. "What's this crap about drugs?" He punched her report with his finger at every word. "Tully didn't find no drugs."

"He didn't look."

"That was rhetorical." He punched the report again.

Loni kept her mouth shut, waiting. It was probably the only four-syllable word he knew.

"State called. Your drug sample came from a batch they're tracking. They're coming to work with us. You will not say one word to them. Not one word!"

"Yes, Chief." She wondered what he would say about the money.

After a long pause, the Chief picked up the report, tore it in two, and threw it into the trash can. "You're off this case now." He sat back in his chair. "Give everything back to Tully and get back on patrol."

"Chief." Loni had to say it. "What about Rene's murder? And the bullet that just missed my head?"

"There weren't no murder yet. This here valve on your report don't prove nothing. Your bullet sounds like a random robbery gone bad." Chief leaned back and crossed his arms on his belly. He stared at Loni while she backed out of the office.

Loni quickly collected her notes with the copy of the receipt for the money and dropped them on Tully's desk. "Wait till Chief sees the money that went to State," she said to herself. "Wonder if I'll have a job tomorrow? Wonder if I care?"

*  *  *

Hoping for peace and quiet, she headed toward the ranch. It didn't turn out that way.

"Hey, Shiichoo, why are you cooking?" Loni asked. "It's hotter in here than outside!" She recognized the smell of mixed hot spices in the menudo when she lifted the lid from a pot filled with rolling dark stew, white and green pieces swirling around in the liquid. Sniffing, she smelled garlic. A great hangover cure, Shiichoo always told her. Would it help a lack-of-sleep hangover? Sticking her nose back over the pot, she decided just smelling it would cure anything.

"So, whose dog did you cook this time?"

"That wasn't funny the first time I heard it." Shiichoo gently slapped Loni's butt as she pushed around her to put wood in the stove. "A sick and hungry family came in earlier. Menudo's good comfort food."

"How long have the beef tripe and pigs' feet been boiling?"

"About three hours."

"You made Bahb quarter the pigs' feet and cut up the tripe, right?" She tried to stare Shiichoo down. "Right?"

Shiichoo stared back.

Loni picked up her grandmother and carried her into the living room. She stood her on one of the rag rugs, turned her around, and held her shoulders. "You! Sit! I'll finish." Loni glanced down, recognizing one of her old school dresses in the rug and chuckled to herself as she went back into the kitchen.

"Don't burn the bread!" Loni heard her grandmother shout as the door swung closed behind her.

The pots and pans had been hanging on the board above her head as long as Loni could remember. She reached up and lifted down a fry pan to put on the stove. After she greased the bottom with butter, she poured a cup of batter into the pan. When she whirled around to pick up the spatula, she nearly knocked her grandma down. Shiichoo had slipped back into the kitchen and was opening the stove to shove in another piece of wood.

"You're putting more wood in the stove? It's already 200 degrees in here! Bahb!" Loni yelled for support. "We're getting heatstroke in here." Nobody said anything. She turned back to the stove muttering to her grandma. "Wait till Thursday."

"Shush. I don't want a new stove. They don't cook right," Shiichoo said.

"Listen," Loni said soothingly. "The old stove's staying. You can cook with it when it cools off." Loni fanned herself, complaining, "Sidog!  Sidog!" Fanning faster, she groaned, "Too hot to even eat."

Shiichoo gave her one of her don't be silly looks. "How was work?" she asked.

"I'm really beginning to hate Chief Bubba." Loni put the dishes on the end of a long wooden counter. "Really, really beginning to hate him!" She reached into the ancient freezer for tin cans of frozen tea. "Think I'll stick my head in here and stay." She rubbed her face with the side of a can as she reluctantly closed the freezer.

"You haven't been home long enough to quit yet. Give it time," Shiichoo said philosophically.

"Where's Bahb, anyway?"

"Out," her grandma spat. "And I don't want to talk about it. Take this pot to the second cabin. And on your way back, stop at the barn and tell him he can eat supper outside, too."

"What did he do?"

Her grandma didn't answer.

"Second cabin on the right or left?"

"Left. Russell still lives in the one on the right."

Loni pushed the screen door open to a screeching noise.

Carefully maneuvering the narrow plank board over the ditch running in front of the cabins, she made her way to the cabin and knocked. A very short and very round Papago woman, smiling sweetly, opened the door, five children stacked behind her like dominos. As she smelled the pot, joy wiped across her face. "Gracias! Muchas gracias!"

"De nada." Although Loni spoke a little O'odham, she was relieved to hear Spanish. She smiled at the children as she left, thinking she needed to find some toys in her grandma's toy box to bring them.

Bahb was soaping down a saddle in the barn. Three inches taller than Loni, he stood poker straight tall. He never changed, not even when a horse tried to roll on him. He simply stepped off and, while the horse was struggling to get back up, stepped back on. Saddened by anyone who beat and jerked horses into submission, he always gentle-broke them.

Loni glanced around at the familiar saddles on their wooden horses. Her favorite Porter saddle, freshly oiled and soft, still sat in the corner. Horseshoes lay in boxes on the two-by-four bench that sagged from years of use. Tack hung off the weathered walls, harnesses that her other grandfather used to grow alfalfa on the thirty acres out back. It was in feed grass now.

"Hey, Bahb, how come Shiichoo is mad at you?"

He snorted." Horses got in wet clothes on line."

"And?"

"Drug them around. Had to wash again. She still mad?"  He looked up, a hopeful grin on his brown smooth face. Loni figured she already had more wrinkles than he did. "She said to tell you to eat outside."

"Do I have to sleep out here, too?"

Loni giggled with him and left him to his saddles.

Loni stopped by Willie's open door to tell him lunch was ready.

"Bahb still has trouble?"

Loni grinned back. "He might be sleeping in with you tonight."

*  *  *

Loni turned all the lights out in her loft so that she could watch the Fourth of July fireworks shooting up from the distant rodeo grounds this side of Caliente. Everything was black except the runway and a few twinkling lights in houses scattered across the landscape. She pulled a chair up to the window and waited.

Used to babbling voices surrounding her, the silence drove Loni crazy. When she lived with Maria, the phone rang off the wall, always an aunt, grandfather, cousin, relative, or friend calling for help. Even when it was only the two of them together, Maria was like a whirlwind, circling Loni with her affectionate chatter and help. She always held Loni close to her, always included her, forcing her to react with people. Alone again, Loni had lost the will to reach out. Loni wasn't sorry to miss the barbeque. Crowds made her lonely, even more so after losing Maria.

Earlier she had pushed a kava kava pill down Coco's throat so the flares and explosions wouldn't bother her. It probably wasn't necessary. Flashing guns and loud reports were part of Coco's attack training. "Pill must be working, huh, Coco?" She smiled as the dog didn't even open her eyes in response. Snoring, she lay on her back in the middle of Loni's bed, her long, brown, fuzzy legs straight up in the air.

Loni relaxed as she watched the fireworks, brilliant lights spiking into explosions of blossoms before the tendrils drifted down in the hazy smoke. They boomed and echoed until the frenzied finale faded as distant sparkling streams of light floated back to earth.

The dark left behind suddenly made her feel vulnerable. Moving away from the window, she turned all the lights on, making the room as bright as possible. Loni grabbed a cold green corn tamale out of the fridge and sent a quick email to Sandi.

FROM: Loni Wagner

TO: Sandi@gmailyahoo.com

DATE: July 4

SUBJECT: Still not looking

Just finished watching the fireworks. They were good, though I miss the ones we watched with your family on the lake. I especially missed the kids' delighted squeals. Over the water adds so much more color.

Helped Shiichoo cook this evening. It's so hot in her kitchen, I'm really looking forward to her having the new stove. If she doesn't use it, I'm screwed. She'll never get better if I don't get her out of the heat.

I already told you I grew up on an Arizona ranch. You always did have a crappy memory. Anyway, I'm not going to get out of "playing copper," as you call it, to ranch. It's way too hard for such little money. My grandparents barely squeak by. They don't need to support me too, although it might help if they didn't support everybody else who came along. Every time I go to the ranch, there are new faces. Maybe it's time I talked to them about it. I'd really hate to arrest my own grandparents for harboring illegals.

Times like this I miss Maria to talk to about the case I'm working on. Well, not really working on, but I am. Never mind. I'll get back to you later and maybe tax your brain.

Love to you et al.

Loni

CHAPTER 5

July 5, 5:00 a.m.

LONI PROMISED BACON her firstborn if he would come in four hours early to cover her shift. She needed to leave early to help Bahb check on the mother cows at the Seven Mile Well. As soon as Bacon showed up, she drove straight to the ranch. The sun was just rising, but it was already hot on her back as she climbed down from her truck. The day promised to be a scorcher.

Ignoring Bahb's and Willie's grumbling, Loni herded Coco into the house and ran into her old room. As she slipped into one of her old Western shirts, she took a minute to feel the cool cotton. Thank god she hadn't gained that much weight. She could still fasten the snaps. Before she slammed out the screen door and trotted toward the two waiting men, she gave Coco a dog biscuit and told her to stay.

At the open one-inch pipe framed horse trailer, Roanie stood impatiently, stomping his hooves and switching his tail as she reached out to feed him. Sandwiched between Paint and Buck, he stretched out his nose, competing for the carrot pieces in the palm of her hand. With a broad smile, Loni kissed each of them on the forehead and happily rubbed their sweet velvety noses as they pushed at each other and chewed.

Giving each of them one last bite, she breathed in deeply and stared around at the familiar scene. Horses bobbed their heads for more carrot. Stonewall stood stock still under his lean to, watching them. WPA fences ran for miles until they disappeared in the heat haze. Bahb and Willie waited in the ancient GMC pickup.

"Oh no, you don't!" Loni tried to pull Willie out of the pickup.

"No, no." Willie giggled like a little girl. His walnut colored Pima face grinned at her under long, spiked pitch black hair left over from an ancient crew cut that obviously needed a new trim. He got a crew cut once every two months whether he needed it or not or when he could no longer see, whichever came first.

"I'm tired of opening gates," Loni whined. "Your turn."

"No!" Willie kept on giggling as she pulled at his rock hard muscles under the blue-checked Western shirt. She couldn't budge him. They had carried out this ritual for as long as she could remember. Giving up, she got in and tried to close the door behind her. "What the —?" Loni stared at the bailing wire wrapped around the door handle.

"Lock busted." Willie leaned over her and wrapped the end of the wire around the window post. "Lock fixed."

Shaking her head, she didn't even ask how they closed the window. The handle was gone anyway. And so was the window, she realized.

As they pulled out, the horse trailer jerked the pickup a few times before it settled in and bumped along the ruts left by years of tires that banged and tilted on the desert road. Loni held on tight as worn out shocks nearly jarred them off their seats.

The pickup shuddered to a stop at the first gate.

"God, ol' man!" Loni shook her head at the state of the worn out pickup as she clung to the door, hoping it didn't fall apart around her. "Where you going thrashing next?"

"Think I thrash you now," Willie giggled again as he snatched at her braid. Ducking to avoid him, Loni whipped the wire off the door post and fell out the door. Sniggering, she picked herself up and ran to the gate. She struggled to pull the end post toward her, grunted the wire off the top, and dragged the gate off the road. Waiting for them to pass, she dodged Willie's outreached hand as they drove by. Locking the gate behind them, she got back into the pickup pushing against Willie as he pulled on her French braid.

They followed the fence across the desert floor. Loni wondered how old it was. "When did you say the WPA put that fence in?"

"In thirties," her granddad answered.

"We should have an eightieth birthday party."

Willie smiled at her suggestion. "For a fence?"

"You know anything better?"

"Party for me?" Willie grinned.

"When's your birthday?"

"Don't know."

Oh, shit, Loni thought, I forgot. "Do you remember when Paint was born?"

Willie brightened up. "Of course." Willie turned to Bahb. "Remember ol' Gabby? Wasn't Paint her foal?"

"Yi. Your dad's favorite mare," Bahb told Loni. "Bad time helping her foal. Shiichoo brought coffee and say it new year."

"Okay. From now on your birthday will be the first of January." She snickered at Willie. "How many birthdays do we have to make up for? Eighty?"

Willie shoved against Loni. "Maybe forty."

"Forty. Well. We better get started. I'll tell Shiichoo to bake a cake, and we'll have a party."

"Presents, too?"

"Don't push it." Loni grimaced as the next gate approached. "Damn, Bahb," she complained. "Are you ever going to get any cattle guards?"

With a sly smile he glanced over at her, his dark eyes dancing. "Shiichoo read somewhere it say paint black lines across road. Cows not cross."

"I buy paint for you," Willie volunteered with a perfectly straight face.

"Ha, ha," Loni answered as she got out of the pickup. She hauled another gate out of the way, refastened it, and got back in the pickup. Contented, she stuck her head out the window to cool in the hot, dry breeze as the windmill rose up through the heat haze and slowly grew larger. "Seven Mile Well. I haven't been here for more than eleven years."

"Not much change," Bahb responded.

"Don't look like it." Loni smiled to herself, amazed at how fast she picked up their speech patterns. "There's a few new patches on the tank."

Willie shook his head. "Lost a few head over that."

"We saved most," Bahb reminded Willie. "Got windmill fixed and water started."

"Spent the next three hours keeping them from drinking too much," Willie countered.

"You two never change," Loni teased. "Glass half full, glass half empty."

"So?"

"So nothing." Loni unwound herself from the pickup and circled the towering metal tank. "Hey, Bahb, they're still here."

"Yi."

Loni lightly traced the cowboy drawings with her index finger, careful to not disturb the pencil carbon. She followed other drawings, mostly ink, as she continued around the tank. She remembered hunting in art stores with Maria, buying fine-point ink pens so Bahb's drawings would stand up to the Arizona sun. Maria had come home with her a few times over the years, but she never got to take her to see the drawings on the tank. She fought a few tears thinking about the things they never got to do. "Bahb's are still the best drawings," she said to no one as she listened to the squeaking of the ramp lowering and the stomping of the horses as they backed out.

"Damn!" Willie said. "Get off my foot, Paint!" The horse grunted. "Not waiting," Willie warned Loni. She heard Paint grunt again as Willie tightened his cinch. Loni knew he would wait.

She traced her grandfather Wagner's drawings next. His pencil drawings were all cowboy: trailing a cow, riding a fence, climbing over a hill, always alone, always in the distance. Bahb's, on the other hand, were up close and detailed, dancers in dress, each feather traced, each bead outlined, powwows, children playing. All of them were full of life.

"Gone!" Willie hollered.

Ignoring him, Loni looked for the old diary that someone had written in the twenties. It was almost faded away, but she had it memorized. Good thing. "J ne   2  o t of fo d. Ate t cs off dog. Ate snake. Look d for Indan wh  t an  mesq ite bean..."

"No, you not!" Bahb groaned. "Come."

Loni followed the voice around the tank to the windmill where her granddad was pointing "Shit." The pump rod lay on the ground.

"Looks like they back," he said. "This time broke pump rod."

Loni knew to keep her mouth shut while he studied what to do. Her granddad never hurried. "Too many mistakes," she could hear him say. "Only have to do it again."

One time she asked, "Why don't you read directions when you put something together?" It was that time he was putting together a table for Shiichoo, again and again.

"Directions no good. My guess good as theys."

He sighed and turned to Loni and Willie. "You find mother cows. I get rod off. Herm fix."

Loni untied Roanie and reached to tighten the cinch.

"Get that horse's head up."

Loni stared at Willie. "You tired of telling me that yet?"

Willie shrugged, walking Paint down the road. "Fall off with saddle. I care less."

"Roanie!" Loni warned the horse. Taking his time, Roanie finally lifted his head and turned toward Loni as she tightened the cinch.

They covered a couple of miles following tracks, the sun hot on their backs. Restless from the heat, Loni thought about the valve and the drug residue in the wrecked plane. "Hey," she said, "do I remember right? Did you tell me once peyote was only used to celebrate death?"

"Maybe."

"Your old village still use peyote?"

"Maybe. I youngen then, but remember my last."

"Last what?"

"Party." Willie searched for words. "We party death and cry over births. Suffer from birth to the ride home to happy ground." He paused. "It was medicine man who went home. Big party. Everybody high. They went fifty miles to find best horse. Belonged to some big rancher over on the Colorado." He was silent again.

"That horse was so butiful. Took five men to push it off." Willie's voice was almost a whisper. "At night I hear that horse scream. Took a long time to hit canyon bottom. I never go to 'nother party. Not even my pa."

"Nobody stopped them? Just let them walk away with a horse?"

"You want to tell bunch big Injin men no?"

Loni leaned over and broke off leaves from a greasewood. No longer oily, the bleached leaves shimmered in the wavy rays from the sun. Following Willie, she watched Paint step in the middle of a pissant hole on his way down into a small gully, his hoofs scattering the pissants into frenzied action.

Listening to Willie apologize to the ants, Loni asked, "How long's the top hole been open?"

"Two days."

"Damn! Rain in four days? Monsoon's coming."

"Yi." Willie watched one cow track separate from the others. Nodding at the tracks, Willie frowned. "Cow running hard. Horse behind. Better follow." He pushed Paint into a running walk. "Hear that?"

Loni heard nothing until they reached the top of a hill and saw the jumping cactus patch spread out before them. A bawling mother cow was trapped in the center of the needle filled plants.

"Damn!" Willie said. "That's Flossie. Had her long time." He slowed down, easing around the patch to find a way to clear a path to the cow as Loni stayed back, watching. A beautiful brindle, the cow was a cross between Brahma and Santa Cruz, a mix that could travel further to forage and water than most cows. Flossie didn't move, but she continued her terrified bellowing.

When she turned her head, the bile rose in Loni's throat. "Oh god, Willie! A ball's hanging in her eye."

"Maybe best shoot her." Willie mournfully got off his horse and pulled a long limb from a palo verde tree. Using the end as a broom, he carefully swept a path to the injured cow. "Bring me rope."

Loni untied the rope from her saddle and stepped off Roanie, dropping his reins. She took the rope to Willie. Easing the loop over her head, Willie slowly led the cow out the cleared path. She stopped when he stopped.

Loni started babbling to get her mind off the ordeal ahead. "Did I ever tell you about the time I found a moose up on Mogollon Rim?" The sound of her voice kept her from crying as she dug tweezers out of her pocket desert kit and carefully pulled needles from Flossie's face. Willie grabbed two flat rocks a bit larger than his hands and began to pull the baseball sized yellow balls out of Flossie's skin, each ball filled with a million sharp needles. The cow moaned and quivered with every extraction, but she didn't move.

"Moose?" Willie grunted, pulling another ball from between her knees as Loni cleaned out the needles he left behind as best she could. She knew Flossie couldn't walk far until they finished her legs.

"That moose acted just like this cow." Loni gently moved to her neck and chest. Flossie tried to lean into her, and Loni decided to finish her nose before the cow transferred the needles to her. "I saw him off the side of the road walking in a small circle. When I got out and started talking to him, he lifted his head and trotted to me." She pulled up the cow's lip and yanked a few more needles from her gums. "Scared the bejesus out of me for a minute, but then he stopped and tried to hide his head under my armpit."

Avoiding the ball hanging out of her eye, she worked on Flossie's face. "The more I talked and rubbed his face and neck, the calmer he got." Her stomach got queasy again thinking about the ball in the cow's eye, and Loni couldn't bring herself to look at it. "She's going to lose that eye, Willie."

Willie grunted in agreement. "Balls like fire. Needles gonna make her very sick." He pulled off another ball and tossed it into the growing pile. "What happened to moose?"

"Oh. Somebody driving by told the forest service to bring a horse trailer. Sad thing, it was blind from some virus. Most were dead before they found them." Loni moved to Flossie's back legs, following behind Willie. She quivered. "They take them to the vet school in Colorado, the ranger said, to do research for a cure. As far as I know, that moose became a world traveler."

Flossie began to bawl again. "All balls off but tail and eye." Willie pulled three more from the inside of the tail.

"Wish all the needles had come out with the balls." Loni felt Flossie's pain.

"We go now. Balls gone. Get needles later. Hope she no flick tail onto herself."

"You go get trailer." He coaxed Flossie into a walk. "Take Paint. We wait on road. I ride trailer with Flossie."

Loni put Roanie in a running walk toward the tank with Paint trailing. The trip seemed to take forever, but she knew running a horse in this heat would kill it.

She explained to Bahb about Flossie as he helped her unsaddle the horses. A line of dust followed the fading clang of the horse trailer bouncing through the potholes. She had never seen him drive that fast.

Loni led the two horses over to the faucet hanging on the side of the tank and poured warm water on them, sluicing it down their backs and necks until they felt reasonably cool between their front legs. By the time Bahb and Willie pulled in with the cow, Roanie and Paint had joined Buck in the corral. Slowing the pickup, Willie held the door open so that Loni could jump in.

Loni watched Flossie out the back pickup window as the cow spraddled her legs with her head down for balance and bawled all the way back.

As Shiichoo came out, Bahb yelled, "Call vet." Bahb led Flossie into the barn and Willie helped him tie her into a cross rope so that they could keep pulling out needles.

Shiichoo stepped into the barn, carrying a bucket of water for Flossie. "Vet is on her way." She handed Willie a pair of tweezers.

"Good," Bahb replied. He used a pair of long nosed needle pliers on the obvious cactus needles while Loni pulled tiny ones with Loni's tweezers.

"Woman vet for big animals?"Loni asked, surprised, as she reached to help Shiichoo.

"Good, too, so don't hit on Doc and run her off," warned Willie.

"How come? You want her?" Loni teased Willie as she held the water for Flossie.

"No. She two spirit like you." Bahb cleared another place of the larger needles. "She also have big loss."

Handing the empty bucket back to Shiichoo, Loni followed behind Bahb finding the small needles. "How do you know that?"

"In the eyes," Bahb said. "They full of pain. Be careful with her."

Loni had no answer. She settled in behind Bahb as they carefully cleaned Flossie. The cow seemed to know they were helping her. Loni listened to her grandma talk to the cow. "Such a good girl you are," Shiichoo told Flossie as she fed her rolled oats from the palm of her hand. "Yes, you are. Yes, you are. Yes, you are. Yes, you are."

Loni stared at her grandma.

"What?" Shiichoo stared back. "You don't love-talk animals?"

"It's a cow!"

"You talk to Stonewall. He's a cow."

Loni shrugged in defeat. "My bad."

"Get your dog before you leave, child. I hear her barking for you."

"Don't let her out here. She upset Flossie." Bahb moved to the cow's other front leg, still slowly and carefully pulling out the pale yellow elusive needles. Any of the ones left stuck into her would work through her body and come out anywhere. Or end up in her brain.

Loni glanced up at the sound of an engine and saw the vet. Wow! She was pixie cute. Loni understood Willie's teasing as she watched the vet get out of her SUV and walk toward the barn, her purposeful stride causing her short blonde hair to bounce.

The vet frowned as she walked up. "Geez, you meant it when you said a cactus was hanging out of a cow's eye." She stood a minute studying the eye before she looked toward Shiichoo. "Can you bring me a pail of hot water?"

Shiichoo hurried toward the house.

Loni stepped forward. "I'm Loni." She held out her hand. "The granddaughter."

"I heard you came back." The vet took her hand and held it. "I'm Tory. Welcome home."

"Thanks." Flustered, Loni took her hand back and nodded at Flossie. "You can't save her eye, can you?"

Tory shook her head, reaching for her bag. By the time Shiichoo got back with the bucket of water, Tory had her tools laid out ready to use. She filled a plunger full of clear liquid. "Can somebody put a twitch restraint stick on her so she won't move? And hobble her. She's going to have to be still for a while now."

Loni really wanted to hang around and watch this woman, but she couldn't stand to see Flossie's agony. The vet nodded to Loni as she walked way but Loni ducked her head, ashamed.

"Ask Herman to help fix windmill," Bahb said to Loni's back. "Take rod to him."

*  *  *

Slowly driving the back way to Uncle Herm's house, she followed the single track dirt road around to the back of his house and parked beside Herm's pickup. She and Coco found him in the kitchen with Mae yammering at him. "I can come back later," Loni said.

"No, you sit. I need a referee. She's been ranting for ten minutes."

"How would you know? You never listen to me!"

"If you didn't talk all the time, maybe I would!"

Loni thought about leaving. Mae took a deep breath as Herm handed her a piece of toast. "Here. You need to build up your strength."

It was all over. Mae sat down with the giggles. "I swear, Herman, if you're not two shelves below a dog turd." She turned away from his puzzled expression toward Loni. "How come you're so sad, sweetie."

Mae listened to Loni's story and gave her a good, long hug.

Uncle Herm agreed to pick Loni up in the morning to repair the windmill and then said, "Come with me."

Mystified, Loni followed him into the hall and watched him lower a boot box from the highest shelf in the hall closet.

"Wow! Lucchese boots!"

"No, no boots. It's your grandfolks' letters and notes. Your dad's history. I wanted to give it to you years back, but you were gone before I knew you were even leaving."

Loni ducked her head. "Sorry."

 "You might like learning about your grandparents' ways." He sighed. "Then again, maybe not all of it." Handing her the box, he added, "It's not a bad thing, having a soft heart." He reached out his arm and hugged her as they walked to the door. "This belonged to your dad, him being the oldest. Take care of it."

"I'll save it for Daniel's kids."

She caught Mae feeding Coco dog goodies. Her aunt gave Loni another good hug and a spank on her butt.

"Hey," Loni reminded her, "I'm not twelve anymore."

"Really?" Mae grinned and closed the door.

*  *  *

Leaving Coco to roam and sniff outside the hangar, Loni carried the box upstairs to her loft and set it on the table. She stared at it for a long time as she sipped cold bitter coffee from the cup left on the table. Finally, she gingerly lifted the lid. On top was an old, faded spiral notebook, its cover inked with hand drawn cattle brands and who they belonged to. Under that were more notebooks, envelopes, and folded pages. She gently picked up the notebook and turned the pages, occasionally reading a few lines. All the notebooks and letters seemed to be recollections of people, pets, school, living on the desert. She stopped at one with a drawing of a windmill like the one on the tank she had seen earlier in the day. The words Ben Wagner were written at the top.

The old windmills have about all gone to join the yesteryears. There were so many famous ones stretching across the Arizona desert. The old Clanton wells. They were so deep he used a tall tower with a big wheel that could be seen for miles. There was the Flowerpot, the Fourteen, the Seven Mile, Burnt Well, Surprise, Volcanic, and Winters Well, just to name a few. At the Winters Well, there were two windmills stood side by side, hooked to a walkenbeam. They all started to fade out of the picture in the thirties. The sagebrush mechanics were getting few and far between and no one knew how to wire them back together. Lots of cowmen went broke then due to low prices and droughts so they didn't need the mills too much.

I really hate to see them disappear. As I came toward them they were fascinatingly silhouetted against the sky, a sentinel, and above all, a beacon. Many an old cowhand going by could get a drink of water for him and his tired horse. The squeak, the squall, the clang spilled out more beauty and rhythm of the windmill and still did not disturb the solitude. The old guys that put up the windmills and pumps were masters at it. They could do more to bring water out to the top with less. When the windmills are all gone a chapter of a grand and glorious way of life will be closed.

Loni felt a connection to the grandfather she had never known before. She wondered how many of the windmills were left now. Maybe she would take some time to see what she could find. He might like that. She'd ask Uncle Herm if he remembered where any of them were. But enough lore for today. She was tired, muscle sore, and rubbed raw from the saddle. If she didn't get an email off to Sandi right now, she wouldn't do it. She pulled the computer toward her and opened it.

FROM: Loni Wagner

TO: Sandi@gmailyahoo.com

DATE: July 5

SUBJECT: Still not looking

My granddad had his cows rustled today. And yes, there are still rustlers alive and well. Tomorrow I start tracking. When I catch them, and I swear I will, I really hope I can keep from shooting them. Since you asked, I'm sending you a list why I don't want to ranch again. These are the first three.

    1. Too damn hot

    2. Cattle rustling

    3. Busted windmills

I am so raw and sore from riding today that I'm hunched over like an old man. I'm glad Maria can't see me now. She'd think it was pretty funny. But I had a great time riding Roanie again. Someday I want you to bring the girls out here so I can show all of you a working ranch. They're old enough to have a good time here.

Met a really cute veterinarian today. What I want to know is where all these lesbians were when I was growing up? I've been back a month and I've already met three. No, make that four.

Love to et al.

Loni

Loni left the door to the loft open, waiting for Coco to get back inside, and fried some eggs and bacon for lunch or supper or whatever it was supposed to be. She had scooped the eggs onto her plate when Coco came back in. "Gag a maggot, Coco! What did you roll in?" Loni ran out the door and down the stairs before she allowed herself to breathe.

"What's the matter?" Daniel asked.

"Did you get a whiff of Coco?"

"Nope. Rolled in something, did she?"

"I think she got a direct hit by a skunk."

"Better get her a bath in tomato juice then."

"You're kidding me? They don't make that much tomato juice."

Daniel laughed. "Not my problem."

"Coco!" Loni called and ducked behind Daniel.

"Get away from me, Coco! Get!" Daniel held his nose while he tried not to laugh. "I'm going home now." He jumped into his pickup and drove away, leaving Loni trying to avoid Coco.

"Stay," she told Coco as she went back upstairs and called her grandma. "Coco got hit by a skunk. What do I do?"

Shiichoo started laughing.

"Not funny!"

"Maybe not to you."

"Why don't I just send this dog to your house?"

"Why don't you just give it a bath?"

"In what?"

"I heard milk was good."

"I don't have any. What else?"

"I don't know."

"Well ask Bahb what his people did."

After a long minute Shiichoo got back to her. "Avoid." That was all she said before she hung up.

Sighing, Loni called Lola, who laughed harder than Shiichoo.

"Well, shit, Lola, do you know?"

"You got any hydrogen peroxide?"

"Hang on. Let me look." Loni tucked her cell phone in her chin and rummaged through her first aid cabinet. "Yep."

"Got any baking soda?"

"You mean for cooking or smells?"

"If it says baking soda on the box, it's the same."

"My aunt Mae put something in my ice box. Hang on." Loni moved food around until she found a yellow box. "Yep. Says baking soda."

"Wonderful!"

Loni couldn't miss Lola's sarcasm. "Well, I don't cook!"

"And I'm not asking you too. Mix some peroxide with the baking soda and liquid soap. Pour it into a bucket of warm water, cover your nose, and scrub. And don't ask me to help." Still laughing, Lola hung up.

It took Loni the rest of the evening to get the smell even bearable, at least to her. And that was after several baths herself.

CHAPTER 6

July 6, 5:00 a.m.

UNCLE HERM PICKED Loni up from the hangar in his ancient Army jeep just before sunrise. They followed the trail to an old gate entrance that led them into what was once a well tended ranch. The sun peeked above the horizon over Saddle Peak as they slowly drove through the broken, disintegrating gate, carefully avoiding splintered boards scattered across the road. "At least I don't have to get out and open this one." Loni scanned the unfamiliar territory. "Where are we going, anyway?"

"Didn't I tell you? Part of the pump rod you brought me was gone." Uncle Herm nodded in the far distance at the remains of a ranch house surrounded by a ring of green salt cedars. "We should be able to find another one on Billy Bain's old place."

Loni tried to remember the mentally slow man who lived there, but all she could picture was a dried up old rubber inner tube, split and cracked from the heat. When he died, it was months before anyone found him. They said he didn't even smell anymore. Only one small room in the large house had been barely habitable when he lived there years ago.

They slowly drove by the rubble of the house before they bumped a mile down the road and drove off the beaten path to circle around a crescent shaped black hill. Hanging on to keep from being thrown out of the canvas covered jeep, Loni wished for a seatbelt and a door as she watched Uncle Herm climb in and out of dry washes even her truck couldn't maneuver. As they reached level ground, Loni was mesmerized by the vastness surrounding her.

Tan, six-inch Indian wheat turned invisible in the tan dirt and rocks. Greens faded to yellows in the shrunken greasewood and catclaw as they protected themselves from the life-sucking heat. Needles on the myriad of cactus left thousands of sharp shadows in double imaged relief. It all reminded her of the last lines from a poem by Shelley, "Round the decay of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare/The lone and level sands stretch far away."

Uncle Herm stopped beside a stack of wood and metal that had once been a windmill. In front of the pile, a water tank had long ago fallen off its rotted posts. Loni watched her uncle jump up and down on the pile a couple of times. They both listened for a rattle, a dead sound like no other. Smiling, he pulled on his blue and white-striped work gloves and began throwing angle iron off the top as Loni walked around the tank, searching for writings or drawings. There was nothing on it. She circled back to help her uncle pick through the pile of debris.

"The box you gave me? Read about your dad's love of windmills. He teach you how to fix them?"

"Yep. Left me some tools and manuals. I wrote off and got others. He taught your dad first before he went off to the mines. Benny loved windmills as much as our dad."

"Do you know anything about the mine where he died?"

"I'll never forget it. A salt mine in Louisiana. The Belle Isle Mine." Uncle Herm paused. "Often thought of going back there for a look-see."

"Maybe we can go together."

"I'd like that. Meantime, we need to get a windmill repaired."

"What kind of windmill is this?"

"This here's a Samson like Bahb's."

"What are you looking for? Maybe I can help."

"Pump rod. One you brought was busted so bad I couldn't fix it."

"Well, shit! Why would anyone take the trouble to ruin it?" Loni wiped her face with her sleeve while Uncle Herm searched through the pile. The iron was already too hot to touch, so Loni re piled the wood. The sun was baking their heads by the time he was down to the motor parts. Digging out a pump rod, Uncle Herm finally answered, "Makin' things harder for others."

"Is there a whole windmill here?" She tried to remember what she had heard. Something about the old man pulling down windmills.

"Used to be," Uncle Herm answered. "Been picked over for parts more than sixty years though. This Samson windmill was a favorite out here before the Stover Company later made the Oil Rite and Aermotor 702." Uncle Herm tossed the pump rod in the back of the jeep and walked over to the windmill fan. "The 702 was the most popular, especially after World War II. Most still work."

Hanging onto the center hub, Uncle Herm gave a fierce grunt and pulled up the fan, standing it on its end. Loni watched in surprise. "My god! That thing's huge! It's more than twice as tall as you are!"

"Looks like somebody else needed blades." Uncle Herm counted five missing. "Gotta be the Burnt Wells bunch. Only other Samson around here I remember still working outside Bahb's." He leaned the fan against the bottom of the old metal tank. "Bring me the tool box from under the front seat. I need penetrating oil."

Loni opened the box and handed him a squirt bottle. He sprayed oil on the nuts connecting three of the blades to the fan and sat in the shade of the tank to wait.

"Why three?"

"Bahb said he only had three damaged."

"I was so busy staring at the tank, I didn't even look up."

"Glad you're not trying to solve a crime for me," Uncle Herm teased. Then he got serious and stared at her as though he was trying to figure out what to say. "Daniel said you got shot at. Want to tell me about it?"

"Nothing to tell, though I'm working on it. Lola's helping me hunt for motorcycles in the county and who owns them. Maybe when I find out, I'll know more."

"Something's worrying James. Do you know what it is?"

His question surprised Loni. "Not the slightest."

"Think it's got anything to do with Rene's plane?"

"I don't know, Uncle Herm. I know I'm worried. I suppose Daniel told you Rene was murdered."

"Yeah. He slipped up, so don't get mad at him. You think Rene's death and your gunshot are related?"

"Don't know yet, but I think so." Ready to change the subject, Loni looked down at the open tool box and pulled out a windmill manual. "Good lord, Uncle Herm. This was published over a hundred years ago!"

"Well, not much changed in the Sampson since then." He reached in the box and pulled out a worn tool resembling pliers.

"What's this?" Loni asked.

"It's pliers for the Sampson pump rod. One of the tools Dad gave me. He called it a Love Pump. He thought it was pretty funny." Uncle Herm grinned as he threw a stick at a curious lizard. It scurried to the stick and promptly climbed on. Uncle Herm laughed. "Stick lizard. You gotta love 'em."

Loni touched the dirt in front of her. "Good. Too hot for rattlers to crawl too."

"You have any snakes or cactus up in the Northwest where you went to school?"

"No. Just some gorse down the coast."

"What's gorse?"

Loni was quiet a minute. "Remember the time you took Daniel and me hunting muskrats down the canal and that jackrabbit jumped out in front of us?"

"Yeah." Uncle Herm grinned. "There was a field of safflower on one side of us and that canal on the other. That field was at least a half mile long. The poor rabbit's tongue was hanging out before he got to the end."

Momentarily lost in the vision of that huffing jackrabbit sitting under a catclaw bush, Loni finally said, "Gorse is like safflower. If you get in it, somebody has to find a tractor to come in and get you out."

"Sounds like jumping cactus." Uncle Herm started to remove the nuts. "Only safflower don't jump on you."

Thinking back on Flossie, Loni's anger flashed. She kicked dirt on a cone nosed beetle to watch it stand on its head. "Nice thing about the Oregon coast, though, nothing poisonous." Loni checked the back of a blade Uncle Herm handed her for crawly things before she put it on the backseat of the Jeep. "No cockroaches there. Mosquitoes get blown away pretty fast. Best of all," she added, fanning herself, "no goddamn heat." She stacked the second blade on the first. "Did Billy Bains really take down three windmills?"

"Yep. This here's Moon Mountain. Then there was Whitehall and Old Six."

"Whitehall was that away, right?" Loni pointed north.

"It was. About ten miles." Uncle Herm grunted as he strained to take off another nut.

"Where's Old Six?"

"Way up on Eagle Tails." Uncle Herm nodded to the west. "Camped there every summer. Only water for miles was at that windmill."

"Why did he take them down?"

"It was during the second war. My dad, your dad, and I dug dams on Centennial Wash to catch rain water. One dam could water a lot of cows during the winter. Of course, August thunderstorms washed the dams out, so we went back every year to fix them." He threw another stick at the lizard. "I really miss your dad." They watched the lizard jump from the old stick and clamber onto the new one. "We camped on the banks of the wash in a clump of rocks we called the Shit House hills."

Loni laughed. "You serious?"

Uncle Herm said, "You bet. The rocks jutted up just like outhouses. Up that high you could see everything happening in the Harquahala Valley. I must have been nine the summer the Army came." Uncle Herm managed to get another bolt unscrewed and handed it and the nut to Loni. His blue work shirt darkened down the back and under the armpits from sweat.

Loni didn't dare ask if it wouldn't be cheaper to buy a new fan blade. She knew "waste nothing" was the law of the land.

Uncle Herm continued, "The Army came in to train, they said. Mostly they dumped, burned, and buried. Dad called it the government's biggest cost-plus burial ground boondoggle."

"Did they really bury tires?"

"That and food and lumber and gas and oil. Stuff we needed to survive."

"Why?"

"Who the hell knows? Some Washington idiot's idea. Some said Americans needed to sacrifice for the war. Kept them going. Others said it was corruption. I say follow the money. Been a lot of years and nobody I know of explained it." He sat a minute in thought. "Dad always said justice is like greed or God and laws. It only exists in the minds of men. And most laws are made to help people keep what they got until somebody comes along bigger and richer."

"And that can't change?"

"Too late. Soon as somebody suggests it, the greedy bastards holler socialism! Communism! Corporate America is too powerful now, too big to fail. It's like a huge vacuum, lowering prices until it sucks small businesses and farms into its bowels and shits them out in one big polluted turd not even useful for fertilizer. Families break up and scatter, working for corporate America wherever they can find a job." Uncle Herm's laugh was hollow. "But then, what the hell do we country boys know?"

"I remember hearing a story about one of our relatives during the Great Depression. He put money in a bank, and as soon as he walked out the front, they locked the doors behind him. So he circled around to the back door and took the money back at gunpoint. Did that really happen?"

Uncle Herm grinned. "Yep. Your grandfather's brother. It was in Texas. He was an outlaw till the day he died. Hid out in the Arizona desert to race horses. Then he switched to racing ostriches. Brought them in to herd cattle. Ate next to nothing and everything, laid an egg equal to a dozen chicken eggs, had huge drumsticks, loved the desert heat." Uncle Herm tilted his head back and laughed. "Problem was, those ostriches scared the shit out of the cows. They scattered so bad, some were never found. After that, Johnny bet his ostrich could beat any horse alive. Made a good livin' until everyone heard about it."

Prying another nut off, he stopped, sprayed again, and sat back down to toss the lizard another stick. The lizard ignored it. Instead, it picked up the one it was on and ran a short ways before it dropped the stick and climbed on. Looking around, the lizard ran across another stick and scurried up an ironwood tree. Uncle Herm watched the lizard and loosened the nut. He handed Loni the last blade.

They climbed back in the Jeep and found a vague trail to follow as they headed for Seven Mile Well. Grateful for the shade of the canvas top and the breeze cooling the sweat on her body, Loni wanted Uncle Herm to finish his story. "The windmills?"

"Oh, yeah, I forgot to finish." Uncle Herm laughed. "Well, Billy Bains gave the Army permission to use his land, so they let him hang out with them. That was after one of them shot a horse out from under one of his wranglers. They got nice to Billy after that."

As the road turned smooth, they picked up speed. "One August we didn't have much wind, and the windmills weren't pumping enough water to keep the tanks full. Don't know why Billy worried though, considering he had no cows since his dad died. Anyway, an Army sergeant told Billy that if he took down some of his windmills, then the rest would get more wind."

"Be serious. He actually believed that?!"

"I am. He did."

"He really went out and took down windmills to get more wind for the others?" Loni couldn't keep the amazement out of her voice.

"The two cowboys hired to take care of him even helped him. His dad's will paid those two cowboys to stay with Billy the rest of his life. He outlived both of them."

"So he died alone?"

Uncle Herm pulled his straw hat off to wipe inside the band, stained dark from years of sweat and dust. "Tried to get out there at least once a month or so. Took him some beans, flour for tortillas, and beer. Listened to him talk about his friends. His half coyote. His skunk. His horse." Uncle Herm smiled as he ran his hand through his hair. "Skunk lived under the house and let go every so often. Pretty hard to visit him on those days." Uncle Herm shook his big head. "I got so busy building the airport and keeping after contractors, I neglected him too long."

They were making good time. Loni started counting the humps of dirt. "How many planes did they finally dig up here?"

"Don't know. We counted thirty piles." Uncle Herm chuckled. Loni loved listening to his stories.

"How did you find the plane?"

"Our cable caught the propeller and drug it up out of the ground. Should have seen your dad's face just before he jumped off that tractor and ran. I wasn't far behind."

"Cable?"

"You don't remember?"

"No. Dad was pretty much gone by the time I was ready to hear stories."

"That's true," Uncle Herm said sadly. "Losin' your mom pretty much killed him." He continued, "We looped a cable on a small tractor and drug it across a space to clear the brush so we could build temporary corrals. That way, when the cattle got here from Old Mexico, we could get them cut, tagged, and branded, before we turned them out."

His eyes glazed in memory. "Too many times they came in sick. Even though the truck traveled at night, some got pushed into the middle while others tried to get on the outside. Then they'd push back out and go from hot and sweaty to cold and shivering." Uncle Herm pointed out the wide road. "This was the landing strip. It's still a good road. Too short though."

"I don't understand. Why did they bury them way out here? It's three hundred miles from the coast!"

"They were worried about a Japanese invasion. Out here they had time to dig them up and get them on their way."

How fast, Loni wondered.

"The plane we dug up was wrapped in rubberized tape to waterproof it."

"So they had to dig them up, unwrap them, clean them up, gas them, and then take off?" Loni shook her head in disbelief. "Whose crazy idea was that?"

Uncle Herm laughed. "Well, hell. Another thing never to be told." Leaving the smooth runway behind, Uncle Herm slowed down again on the deep rutted road. "After the Army ran us off so they could dig them up, they came by the house and explained what they could. Seems the government buried them from Old Mexico to Canada. The two I seen were around ninety miles apart."

 "No way! Are they still in the other one?"

"Hard to say. That plane we pulled up had already been there thirty years or so."

*  *  *

At the well, Loni took photos of anything that didn't match their own tires and tracks. Working around Bahb as he held the rod for Uncle Herm to connect, she found tracks from an unshod horse. One hoof had a crack in it. She found prints from a tennis shoe. "Look at this," she said in amazement. "Why would anyone wear tennis shoes on a horse?"

Uncle Herm laughed at Loni. "Good way to get your foot caught in a stirrup for sure, especially tryin' to herd some of those feisty half Brahmas you got. They run you down for the fun of it."

Loni stopped to re read the writing on the tank. "Tell me about the diary again, Bahb."

"You forget I no tell stories in day."

"You forget I don't believe the evil one will get me for telling stories in the day."

"You forget I do."

"Well, forget about your Navajo beliefs this time and tell me the story from your Papago half."

Bahb smiled and shook his head.

"It's really hard to read anymore." She began to talk out loud, making up things. "Day Five. Ate mesquite beans. Day Six. No coffee since yesterday. Today found cone nosed bugs. Ate them. Bitter. And a lizard. Nasty thing. Day Eight. Fought Henry for a rattlesnake. Snake bit him so I won and ate well. Day Nine. Bugs again. Day Ten. Fished a dead bird out of the tank. Stunk. Day Eleven. Nothing. Day Twelve. Walking out." Loni paused. "Hey, Uncle Herm, what happened to them?"

"They were old men when I knew them. Dead long time now." Uncle Herm strained to tighten the nut on the pump rod. "Part of the Hellman tribe. Seems their horses wandered off and took days to get home. It was awhile before the oldest brother finally came looking for them. Found them a day out."

Loni stared at the faded date. 1933. The year Bahb was born.

Willie was sitting on Paint in the shade of the tank. Nine in the morning, and it felt over a hundred degrees. Loni didn't want to leave the shade. Finally she moved around the tank and walked over to Roanie. "Let's go, Willie." Groaning, she hop-stepped up on Roanie, stiff and sore from yesterday's long ride. Against Roanie's will, she followed Willie for miles as they trailed the rustler's tracks. As soon as she relaxed, Roanie started his side-hop dance to let her know how much he hated to follow anyone. Loni let Roanie catch up to Willie, and he peacefully kept a rolling walk beside Paint as long as his nose was out in front.

"Was rustling worse in the old days?"

"No. Easier to truck them out now. Sell them hundreds miles away."

Ignoring her sore butt, she focused on the track signs ahead of her. It was noon before they tracked the cattle to a cut in the barbed wire fence on the eastern border of the ranch. Cattle tracks ended where the tire treads started at a cut in the fence. Photographing the treads, Loni followed them until they disappeared at a paved road.

The sun overhead left neither shadows nor shade as Loni and Willie started back to the tank. When Willie pointed, Loni followed his finger to a coyote following them, stealing from bush to bush. After another mile, the coyote gave up and loped away.

Watching his skulking had helped Loni ignore her burning thighs, rubbed raw. "Tell me how the Coyote got his yellow eyes, Willie."

"I tell you many times. You too old for stories now."

Loni kept wiggling in the saddle, standing in the stirrups or riding sidesaddle. Nothing helped. "Tell me something. I'm dying here," she whined.

Willie relented. "Coyote meet Blue Bird and tell him how beautiful he is. But Bird does not understand, so he throw his eyes straight up. When they fall back in Bird's eye holes, they are much brighter. Coyote ask Bird to brighten his eyes, so Bird take Coyote's eyes out and throw his eyes straight in the air and they come back much brighter. Coyote say, 'That great, Bird. I want eyes brighter.' 'Go away,' say Bird. 'I am tired.' But Coyote insist and throw his eyes back into the air."

"Wait," Loni interrupted. "I thought Bird threw his eyes."

"Just make sure you listening." Willie slowed the horses to a plodding walk. "Bird throw Coyote's eyes back into air but doesn't catch. He walk away! Please, Bird. Bring me my eyes! Fed up, Bird find pinion tree, pull off sap, and roll them into balls to stuff in Coyote's eyes. That why they yellow."

The singsong cadence had relaxed Loni. "Tell me why his tongue is black."

"You tell me."

"Please.

"Last one. We almost there."

They crested the last long hill, and the windmill shimmered far in the distance in a long, wide valley.

"Ever'one like to hear Snake rattle, so they keep teasing and scratching him to hear rattle. So Snake go to Elder Brother and say, 'Ever'one tease and hurt me.' Elder then take two hairs from beard and make two teeth for Snake and say, 'If they tease again, bite them.' So when Rabbit scratch Snake, Snake bite him. Rabbit die from rattlesnake bite."

Hanging on to the view of the windmill as it slowly drew closer, Loni lost herself in Willie's sing song voice.

"The village not want Coyote to eat Rabbit, but they can't figure what to do. If they put in tree, Coyote climb and get it. If they bury, Coyote dig up. If they hide, Coyote will find. So they decide to burn. They send Coyote to sun to get fire and Elder Brother rub a stick and start fire to burn Rabbit. But Coyote see fire and return, so village circle fire. Coyote jump over and grab Rabbit's heart and eats. It so hot, it burn his mouth. That why Coyote's mouth black."

When they reached the windmill, the air was deadly calm. The pump rod was pumping. Sort of. The rustlers had taken all the mother cows at this well, but Bahb left the pump rod connected for wild animals.

*  *  *

Blistered and tired, Loni thanked Daniel for letting Coco out. She could hear his laugher as she pulled herself up the stairs. After she stripped off her filthy clothes and took a long, cold shower, she stood in front of the cooler fan, not bothering to dry off. Sighing in relief, she smoothed aloe vera everywhere she could reach.

She had to force herself to get ready for Rene's funeral. Putting on a clean black tee out of a drawer and black Levis from the dirty clothes basket, she finished with a lightweight dark-brown and black-striped serape to hide the casual clothes beneath the stiff cloth that hung below her knees. Pulling on the serape reminded Loni of the caftan Maria insisted she buy to wear to weddings. It was one of the worst fights they had. Loni was surprised she won. She hadn't worn a dress since she was in kindergarten, and she swore then she never would again.

Loni substituted her boots with black slip on shoes and brushed her hair, leaving it to kink in braid waves that almost hid her face. After she shoved a square black scarf in her pocket, she rummaged around until she found large sunglasses. In record time she was ready to leave, hoping no one would pay any attention to her. Her pathetic limp should help keep her anonymous.

"Coco, stay." Loni handed the dog a biscuit to make up for not taking her and closed the loft door in her pitiful brown face.

*  *  *

Loni drove through ranches and small farms on her way to town. Most of them worked Native Americans from various Arizona tribes and occasional illegals that came in weak and exhausted from their trek across the desert from Mexico. Many of them just needed places to rest before continuing their journey, but a few found homes. Loni had been gone so long that most of them were strangers.

A few houses were spread along the highway where Old Highway 85 ran through the town and out the other side. It was a short run because the town was only 15 blocks deep around the courthouse square.

Surrounding the town on three sides, farms dotted the landscape with houses, barns, and shacks. It was land left over from years of river floods, dumping enough silt to create large soil rich flats.

On the fourth side a tall mountainous hill known as Caliente Butte sheltered large homes clinging onto overhanging cliffs. Old timers often called these cliff dwellers Butt Hillers and laughed to think anyone would build on a diamondback rattlesnake den, especially when they complained about the snakes they found on their stoops.

She crossed over the railroad tracks paralleling Old Highway 85 to enter the town square. It had been years since a train had stopped there. The empty train station and large parking lot had been turned into a seed and fertilizer store. A small Mexican community stretched out three blocks on the other side of the tracks.

Approaching the dirty tan adobe Catholic Church in Caliente, Loni watched the mourners and the curious gather and gossip as they slowly gravitated toward the church. She waited for a group of teens to cross the street and edged around the last dawdling boy who was buying a tamale from Spin's cart, giving a peace sign to the teenager. Parking her truck in the shade of a eucalyptus tree, she jaywalked across the street to find cover under the overhang of the buildings along the sidewalk. Cool air escaping through the screen doors of open businesses briefly cooled her. Not everyone was going to Rene's funeral.

She stopped at the old wrought iron fence across the front of the church lot. Rusted posts leaned in a crazy pattern, requiring help from the bailing wire, and maybe a lot of prayer, to hold each other up. Stuck on the tops of the posts were small crosses with white flecks of paint stuck in the crevices. Shadows from the fence created irregular bold patterns on the parched dirt in the hot, hot sun.

A few bright yellow flowers barely hanging on a palo verde tree reminded her that the monsoons were due. Loni stepped under the tree to watch the people standing outside the church, trying to look like just another Indian woman waiting for her man.

Moving on, Loni left the tree for another wall of heat on the sidewalk and steps. She pushed open the old creaky double doors and entered the whitewashed interior. Standing in a darkened area by the confessional in the back, she noticed the small stained glass windows in the thick adobe walls.

The smell of furniture polish and burning candles took her back to her childhood. The darkened wood backs and arms of the old benches gleamed in the colorful sunlight through the windows, the only shiny spot in the tired building. Loni felt a burst of anger when she thought about what people did to each other in the name of religion. Like Bahb always said, "Christians cannot teach kindness. They have too much to lose."

The church filled up fast. Loni looked for anyone who seemed out of place or whose behavior didn't fit. Most of the people didn't seem upset, and a large pepper-haired woman passed by her, appearing particularly pleased. Not exactly a funeral expression, Loni thought, watching her sit with a couple who moved over to make room for her. The man had blond wavy hair, and the woman had long curling honey-red hair cascading down her back.

Dipping her fingers into the holy water in the bowl beside her, she wiped her eyes to stay awake. Rene's family entered, jarring Loni when she saw Larry and Dorothea on either side of a sobbing Ellen, Rene's wife, holding her like family. Tears ran down Dorothea's face as she patted Ellen's hand. What is going on, Loni wondered.

She remembered Ellen as a friendly counselor in high school who helped get her a scholarship. Blonde, plump and soft, Loni never understood why she stayed with Rene. Her pretty face was crumpled in agony as she tried to pull away from Dorothea and Larry. Reminded of her own loss, Loni bowed her head.

The murmuring ceased as the priest began the chants, and Loni heard Ellen's sobbing throughout the mass. Kneeling, standing, sitting with ringing bells and singing voices, she let the Mass ritual roll over her as she found herself at Maria's funeral. While she stood over Maria's grave, unable to leave, one of Maria's sister-in-laws's invaded their apartment and took everything that belonged to Maria, including furniture and kitchen wares. Even the toilet paper was gone. Some of the things they took belonged to Loni, like her favorite leather jacket and her boots. And things she had given Maria. They even took all her books. All that was left besides some of her clothes were a beat up toaster, a small fry pan, a few mismatched dishes, and some towels in the rag pile. Enough to get by if she kept the dishes clean and her clothes washed.

What bothered Loni most were the pictures. All the photographs of Maria were gone, leaving Loni with an empty shell. Someone had torn Loni out of photographs and tossed the pieces of photos into the trash. Thank god she had one picture on her desk at the station with Maria and Coco.

Loni knew it wasn't Sandi or Maria's mom. Her sisters-in-law, however, were a different matter, especially Barbara. When Loni found anything missing, she would holler at Maria. "Barbara's been here!" If it was anything important to Loni, Maria would go by Barbara's house and get it back.

After Maria died, the walls closed in on Loni. She knew she had to get out of the apartment. Her head down, she didn't see the two masked men in a grocery store until it was almost too late. Then she knew that she had to get out of the city.

Jerking herself back to the present, Loni scanned the church, trying to spot anything out of place. Nothing caught her eye until the end when Ellen stumbled down the aisle, stopping to curse the woman with honey-red hair. With a firm grip, Larry and Dorothea yanked her on. Ignoring Dorothea's wink at her, Loni fell in behind the honey-redhead, hoping she could overhear something, but the woman was silent. Loni listened to the murmuring crowd on the sidewalk as they brought out the casket and loaded it into the hearse. No one mentioned the crash.

As the hearse pulled away with the casket and the crowd started to break up, Loni got a good look at the couple next to the pepper-haired woman. In her early thirties, the woman was chic in a carefully casual way. Her dark grey silk dress clung close to her slender body. With his dark-striped suit and subdued tie, the man was more like a pretty boy than a handsome man. Loni saw symptoms of a meth addict. His flattened face was pale, and his jittery eyes couldn't find a place to rest. The large woman with them wore a full length caftan with gaudy swirling patterns that reminded Loni of a runaway circus. Her proprietary manner toward the smaller woman rang Loni's gaydar.

Loni watched the procession of cars trail its slow way out of town. Kids under the trees on the courthouse lawn piled into cars and followed. By the time she reached her truck, the town was cleared of traffic.

*  *  *

Glad to be home, Loni changed into a tanktop and shorts and slathered her red, raw thighs again. She was in the middle of slicing cheese for a grilled cheese sandwich when Coco rushed to the door and barked. Loni opened the door to a smiling Dorothea. She didn't return the smile. "Long time," Loni said flatly.

With her shorts and skimpy, attention craving top, Dorothea's nipples were clearly visible through the red cloth stretched across her breasts, and she showed serious cleavage. This was not the same sobbing black-clad woman clinging to Rene's wife at the funeral, or the tearless purple-robed woman staring at the wrecked plane. The pretty, sexy teenager who would try anything once and sometimes twice had turned into a blousy, overweight matron. "Aren't you glad to see me?" Dorothea cast an appreciative gaze up and down Loni's buff body.

"Should I be?" Loni snapped.

"You forgot already?"

"Forgot what?" Loni tried to hold her ground, but Dorothea pushed by her into the room. "What are we? Still in high school?" Loni complained to her back.

Dorothea sat at the table and waited, still smiling.

Exhausted but unwilling to sit down, Loni leaned on a chair back.

Dorothea spoke into the silence. "I know you remember what good times we had on those summer parties."

Loni replied grimly, "That wasn't me."

"Of course it was," Dorothea said insistently.

"It wasn't me," Loni repeated. "I was never ever at one of those parties."

Dorothea hesitated. "You and I used to make out somewhere," she insisted.

"So I wasn't the only girl you shoved into a corner. I always figured you did it on a dare."

"I wouldn't have done that."

"Listen, Dot, don't look to me for some side action. I don't do married women. Or closets."

Loni watched Dorothea's face tighten. Avoiding Loni's eyes, she ducked her head and reached back, coiling her dark brown hair into a knot on the top of her head. She stared at Loni and blurted, "You're hard. I thought we were friends."

"If you want a friend, buy a dog."

"When did you start hating Mexicans?"

"When did you start hating Indians?"

"I don't!" Dorothea snapped. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about bullshit," Loni said firmly. "That's what we're both saying. We're playing word games, and it's bullshit. Why don't you try the truth? You're not interested in me. Why did you come?"

Loni saw the pain cross Dorothea's face. "I need to get away from my husband. Will you help me?"

Loni's head jerked up in surprise. "What can I do?"

"I think he's into drugs." She paused, nervously tugging at her top. "He's flying them in from Mexico."

"Can you prove that?" Loni waited.

"A month ago he brought home a little suitcase that I hadn't seen before. Inside were packages of white powder. Looked like drugs to me so I called where he worked. They said he quit a week ago." Dorothea finally looked up at Loni. "When I asked him, he said he forgot to tell me he got a better job, but he wouldn't tell me what. He's always gone, flying out at night or hanging out with Rene. He's spending money like a Rockefeller. Even got one of those fancy red sports cars. A Lamborghini." She gave a choking laugh. "I checked the price. It's over two hundred thousand dollars! For a car!" A rueful look crossed Dorothea's face. "We didn't pay that for our house. Sometimes when he's gone, his kid takes it for a spin. Hope he wrecks it."

"What'd he say about the suitcase?"

Dorothea inspected her chipped fingernail polish. "By then I was afraid to ask him."

"Was Larry working with Rene?"

Dorothea's head jerked up in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"We found drug residue in his plane."

Shaking her head, Dorothea said, "I don't believe Rene was into drugs. He's a real asshole but never a druggie."

"You're close to the family."

"Well yeah, Rene was my half brother. You knew that, right?"

Surprised, Loni didn't answer. How had she forgotten that? Better question: What unforgivable thing did Rene do to Dot? "Do you know who Larry called or who called him? Anyone who traveled with him? Or where he went?"

Dorothea shook her head. "Nothing on our home phone bills. Or cell, that I can tell. I've been watching. He hung out with Rene a lot, but he never talked about anything they did. Sometimes he phoned the O'Neal nursery. I really don't know anything, but I'll keep a lookout if you promise to help me."

"Can you give me copies of your phone bills, credit card receipts, bank statements, anything else that would tell us where he goes?"

Dorothea barely nodded.

"Do you know where he is now?"

"Not really. I don't care."

Loni straightened up, arching her sore back. "Life's a bitch, ain't it." She relented. "Let me do some checking, Dot. See what I can find."

Dorothea reluctantly got up and followed Loni to the door. "Promise?"

"Yes, of course." Loni held the door open.

Dorothea brushed against her before she disappeared down the stairs. Shaking her head, Loni shut the door on her disappearing glance.

Frying her sandwich, Loni debated her next move. She was positive Dorothea knew much more than she said. Walk in shit, you'll get it on you, Bahb always said. Mentally moving the problem onto a back burner, Loni finished frying her sandwich while she watched Coco eat. She ate like she drank, making a mess all around her. She took mouthfuls of dry kibbles and scattered it, making a game of hide-and-seek.

Loni carried her plate to the table as she searched for something to read. She missed her books. Until Maria moved in with her, she read while she ate, and she read herself to sleep. After work, Loni decided, she would go to the library. She hoped Mrs. Hunt was still there. As she climbed carefully into bed with her computer, Loni was grateful that the dog cleaned up her dog food. The hard bits could be tough on bare feet, and her back when she tried to exercise. Oh, yeah. Exercise. She'd get back to it tomorrow, she decided.

FROM: Loni Wagner

TO: Sandi@gmailyahoo.com

DATE: July 6

SUBJECT: Still not looking

Reason #4: I don't ranch because of the long, long hours of hard, hot labor with no money.

Have I mentioned how much I hurt, how sunburned and rubbed raw I am? I'm already dreading tomorrow. I'm having so much difficulty walking now that I sure hope I won't be chasing anyone on foot.

We tracked rustlers all morning and found a cut in the fence where a truck loaded the cows. Without a brand, it's going to be hard to get them back. These old mother cows have been here for years, dropping calves to keep my grandparents going. Selling the steers is about their only income. I'm putting a BOLO out tomorrow and hope for the best.

Remember the plane wreck? Went to Rene's funeral and watched some interesting interactions. I also had an unexpected visitor tonight, Rene’s half sister Dot. Went to school with her but I forgot she was related to Rene who was my history teacher. She said she thought her husband was into drugs but she didn't know about Rene. Knowing the old Dot, I find that hard to believe. First time I've been hit on since I got home, though. She wants me to help her get rid of her husband. Told her if he was doing something illegal, I would arrest him. But that’s as far as I’d go. Hope she doesn't get caught in whatever Larry and Rene were doing.

Write more tomorrow if I can.

Loni

The cold sheets felt wonderful on her hot burned skin. If she kept this up, she'd soon be as dark as Willie.

CHAPTER 7

July 7, 3:00 a.m.

ALL THAT LONI RAN INTO on patrol were the bugs that splattered on her windshield. Sore, burning muscles and her aching butt made her want to scream as she squirmed in the sweltering heat, but she still had trouble staying awake. She finally drove off the highway part of the way down an abandoned trail and parked the SUV. Snatching the plastic baggie of aloe vera leaves, she got out and turned Coco loose. Behind a bush, she dropped her pants and squeezed the goo out of a leaf, rubbing it on the inside of her thighs. It helped for a little bit, but she wished for her grandma's salve.

At four in the morning, she rounded the town square, slowing down to stop in a circle of light flowing from the bakery's open door and windows. The smell of the baking doughnuts made her saliva run. Through the screen door, she watched the baker, dressed all in white, as he poured a large bag of flour into the huge mixing bowl. The white flour dust puffed up almost as high as his white Dr. Seuss hat. Smiling at the Doughboy image, Loni moved on, circling a few blocks before she returned into the darkness.

As she drove into early morning, lights flickered on one by one in shadowed houses as ranchers and farmers got ready for work, people she knew from long ago. To pass the time, she made up stories about what had happened to the families during the years she was gone.

The sky turned from pink to yellow. Her slow night was almost done when she parked in a wide spot on Harper Road. A car fishtailed by her, spinning its tires as it raced down the highway. Jolted into pursuit, she clocked it at 120 mph. As it shrank to a dot on the horizon, she called to warn Bobby, hoping she could get the car stopped before it reached the outskirts of Caliente. Cold day in hell. "It's a dark blue Mercedes, Bobby. Looked like S Class."

"Oh lord, I want one of those so bad."

"If I catch this guy with drugs, I'll get it for you."

"James drives a confiscated drug car. Why not?"

Loni heard Bobby's sigh as she hung up and clutched the steering wheel. At ninety miles per hour, the SUV began to dance and shimmy. She grabbed the steering wheel so hard her knuckles turned white as she fought a vibration so savage, she felt herself losing control. Forcing herself to slow down, she relaxed her grip on the steering wheel and sped toward town. The car was long gone.

As her patrol car reached the first cluster of houses, she spotted the Mercedes slowly weaving onto the wrong side of the road. It lurched onto the shoulder of the road, motor running, its fender up against a guardrail. The back window was too tinted for her to see inside. "Something's not right," she said to Coco. "Hey, Bobby. That Mercedes ran off the road, and I don't like it. It's got a Mexican plate." Loni rattled off the numbers and letters. "Get me some backup."

"I'll send James," Bobby said.

Loni flipped on the loudspeaker. "Get out of the car," her voice blared into the early dawn. She waited. Nothing moved. "Get out of the car, now!" She waited. "Well shit, Coco," she reluctantly told the dog, "we better go see."

She pointed her gun down as they slipped by the darkened windows on the driver's side of the car. Her mind flashed back to a good friend who had stopped a speeding car and called for backup. First to arrive on the scene, Loni found Tom face down in the middle of the highway in his own blood, no car in sight. Never found the shooter. It was times like this Loni felt the most vulnerable. She liked having a partner, knowing someone was there for her. Waiting for backup, she rapped on the window. "Out! Now!" Nothing stirred. She yanked open the door, her gun ready, and found a man slumped over the steering wheel. He was alone. And dead.

His wrinkled Western shirt and dress pants had that travel look. So did the stubble on his pasty face and food wrappers covering the floor. The blood on the grey floor mat under his feet oozed toward the door. Pulling him back, she saw a knife handle sticking out of his stomach and a large red circle on his white pearl-snapped shirt. She let him flop back and closed the door.

"Bobby. That Mercedes? The driver's dead, a knife in his stomach. Maybe he was trying to get to the clinic."

"Guess he didn't make it," Bobby answered.

"I need CSI out here now. And send me a wrecker."

"Know who he is?"

"Nope. Young, well dressed, all I can tell. Didn't want to disturb the crime scene."

"Maybe you shouldn't move the car."

"This isn't the original crime scene. The man can't sit in this heat all day."

*  *  *

Loni followed the wrecker to the police garage. Gary Beasley, the police mechanic, was on duty. He wore a police baseball cap, and darkened blotches of grease covered the front of his shirt and his frayed cuffs. Like a doctor, he wore plastic gloves. "Allergic to grease," he had told her once. She made him promise not to take his eyes off the car until the crime scene people and coroner got to it.

*  *  *

Her shift finally at an end, Loni traded the SUV for her truck, noting the car was still sitting in the police garage. Gary waved as she climbed in her truck. Her adrenaline had faded enough for her to remember again how much her thighs burned. She drove to her grandparents' ranch trying not to squirm. Every movement only made her burn worse. As she stopped in front of the house, her cell phone rang. "Hey," she said. "Tell me what you have to say won't hurt as bad as I already do."Lola's laugh was infectious. "Chief wants you back. I'll protect you."

"Why?"

"Because you're special?"

"No," Loni said, embarrassed. "Why do I have to come back?"

"What? I know everything?"

"Well, yes."

Lola laughed again. "Not this time."

Loni sighed. "When?"

"Twenty minutes ago."

"Listen. I've got to get my grandma's salve on my thighs and ass. Give me another five."

"What's wrong with your ass?"

"I spent the weekend on a horse, and I'm dying here."

Loni could still hear Lola's laugh as she hung up and slowly climbed out of her truck.

Unscrewing the lid on the homemade salve from the bathroom shelf, Loni slathered the foul-smelling grease all over her butt and the inside of her legs down to her ankles. She stood and sighed in relief, feeling the fire leach from her skin. Then it hit her. She had forgotten how her grandma's crap smelled like a fresh skunk dead in the road. She would have to stay far away from people or get hassled. And she was in no mood for that. Backing up, Coco kept at a distance, her nose tilted up, sniffing the air. Loni pushed through the screen door, leaving her behind. "I'll be back soon. Very soon. Very soon," she kept repeating to the woeful dog as she backed to her truck.

Her grandma came to the door and patted Coco on the head. "Dogs can't reckon time, child."

"Shush, Shiichoo. Don't tell Coco that. She'll think you're lying to her," Loni teased. "Would you tell Bahb to take Coco home for me?" she hollered out the window of her truck. "I gotta get back to work."

As she reached the last tree under the row of clustered salt cedars overhanging the circle driveway, one of the banty hens flew against her windshield and nose-dived onto the hood of her truck. Loni jerked to a stop. Please, lord, let that chicken be all right. It wasn't the time to make her grandma mad. In a few seconds, the tiny mottled brown and red hen stood up, shook her head, wagged her tail, and crapped on her hood. Gracefully leaving the scene of her crime, she flapped back into the tree.

Ignoring the poop, Loni finally reached the highway and waited to get onto the road while seven John Deere combines passed, fancy refrigerated king cabs with CD players, as they headed for the safflower fields. The sound of Western twang from a local radio station poured out of the last one as it rumbled by. Pulling onto the highway, she smelled the hot exhaust from the combines' powerful engines as they turned into a safflower field, splashes of green against the blinding yellow flowers.

The field ended abruptly at Caliente's city limit sign boasting a population of four-thousand twenty-five. The outlying gated developments made the town seem much bigger, and Caliente Butte and the reservation village near its southern border, along with the development at the Wagner Airport to the west, added to the population. Farmers, ranchers and miners also came to town to shop, as well as Mexicans who came across the border. It seemed the strangers in and out had erased the quiet, safe place of her childhood. Or was it ever that safe? Loni wondered.

As the truck rolled through the outskirts of town, familiar landmarks, all in the same shades of desert tan, unfolded. Wood, adobe brick, sidewalks, sand pitted vehicles stripped of color; this was what Loni remembered most about the desert: the lack of color and open space. Abandoned cars and pickups rose in the middle of dead weeds surrounding older, unpainted houses bleached pale tan. screened-in porches filled with rocking chairs, tables, and beds stretched across the front of each home. Too poor to have refrigeration, old time residents like Miss Mickle, her favorite grade school teacher, spent their time on these porches, waiting for a stray breeze. The frail woman waved at her, and Loni waved back.

Loni passed the Mormon Church, stucco white with a tall cone shaped sphere reaching into the sky. She remembered counting the churches and bars in town. The churches won, whatever that meant.

An empty service station huddled next to the old abandoned movie theater, with its faded yellow sign on the big double doors that read "CONDEMNED." She admired the marquee, pushing out in all of its past splendor. Carved wood with chipped gilt surrounded a few plastic letters hanging precariously from their railings. The city refused to confiscate the property because it cost them too much. The building waited, the last owner dead and no heirs to be found. Or, at least, no one who admitted to owning it.

The last owner was Old Man Jandas, mostly deaf and blind. Every night after he closed, he climbed up to a small one-room shack on top of the building. The last time she saw him, he was coming out of it in his white night shirt.

The movie that night was "The Rocky Horror Picture Show." The image had been so fuzzy that the crowd chanted, "Focus, focus, focus." Finally someone in the audience went up and fixed it.

When she got out of the movie, Loni had found a flat tire on Bahb's old pickup and was stuck across the street, waiting to get it fixed.

It was Halloween night. Earlier in the day, Old Man Jandas had gone to Phoenix to pick up his mail-order bride. Hurrying to get his theater open, he blasted through an outhouse that the football team had sat in the middle of the street in front of his theater. Without a word, his new bride got out of his car, picked her way through the shattered pieces of wood to the drugstore, and waited for the next bus back to Phoenix.

Jandas was heartbroken.

As Loni had waited for her tire repair, the service station owner's wife screamed, "Oh my god, he's going to jump! Somebody stop him!"

Everybody stared up at the old man as he stopped at the edge of the roof and leaned out. Stunned, they watched a steaming stream, sparkling in the street light, arc off the roof. Jandas turned and disappeared back into his shack.

Smiling at the memory, Loni stopped for gas at the new service station, the only one still open in town and the only one for a good fifty miles. There was no service. No one came to help. She poked her credit card into the slot and filled the truck's tank. A blond teenager in a small hutch behind bulletproof glass read a comic book as he waited to flip pump switches on and off.

On Main Street, she passed the general store facing the town square and turned onto B Street. Over half the storefronts were vacant, and the rest were mostly bars. Billy the Kid's bar claiming a famous fight on this spot, Last Stop Bar self explanatory, River Bar a false hope name. River waters had long since been trapped behind towering dam walls.

Loni parked in the police lot and stepped out into oven-blasting heat that sucked the breath out of her. Ducking her head to avoid the sun's glare, she hurried across the street as fast as her raw legs could move, her boot heels sinking into the soft, sun-melted asphalt that burned through her soles. She waddled up the long sidewalk and pushed the button beside the heavy, reinforced door, shoving the handle down at the click. At the first feel of cool air, she gingerly walked up to the booking desk.

Lola watched her slow approach. "You got here."

"Still no idea why I was summoned?"

"Nope." Lola nodded toward Chief's office. "But he's meaner than a snake. Better throw a piece of raw meat in first." Nodding toward the bullpen, Lola said, "Something big, looks like. You've got lots of company. I'll let you know when Chief is ready."

Sighing, Loni looked toward the bullpen. Lola's right, she thought. It must be big. This was the first time she had seen so many town cops and highway patrollers in one place.

"Makes you wonder who's minding the store, huh?"

"Hope to god it doesn't have anything to do with Rene's plane." Loni cringed. "Chief's mad enough."

Following Tully, she walked into the sound of male laughter and found a seat in the far corner. It was like roll call in LA, she thought, realizing that cop humor was another thing she missed, even though it was black.

"What's so funny?" Tully groused. "It's too damn hot for anything to be funny."

"Well shit, Tully, ain't you used to this heat yet?" said a patrolman Loni hadn't seen before.

"Hell, no."

"How long you lived here, anyway?"

"Eighteen summers."

"Ignore Tully," James told the laughing patrollers. "He doesn't even know which way to go to get out of the heat. I heard someone ask him for directions to Springerville, and he said, 'Just head north.' The man asked him which way was north. Tully told him he couldn't say. Just use a compass. This really pissed the guy off. 'Damned if you're not the dumbest cop I ever saw. You don't know anything, do you?'" James paused, basking in the attention. "So then Tully said to the tourist, 'Maybe not. But I'm not lost, either.'"

"Well, shit," Tully objected. "I only got to town the day before. You ever see how lopsided this town sits compared with the world?"

James laughed at him and continued, "My favorite is when Tully asked Old Man Phillips where the Laundromat was. Phillips said, 'It's over behind where the old theater burned down.' Tully said, 'I been livin' in this town just a month. How the hell would I know where that was?' Old Man Phillips said, 'I just told you where it was,' and he walked away mumbling about all we needed was the outsiders coming in on the short bus."

"What is this, Pick on Tully Day?" he complained.

"Thought you just said you lived here eighteen years," Bacon drawled.

"In the desert," Tully nearly yelled. "Eighteen long goddamn summers in the goddamn desert."

Tully stalked down the hall toward the restroom, laughter following him.

Another patrolman sitting next to James spoke up. He was really cute with dark blue eyes, wild red hair, and big freckles splattered everywhere. Loni guessed he was in his early thirties. "I got a ticket story. Yesterday I passed a woman with both her feet straddling the steering wheel, painting her toenails. When I stopped her and gave her a ticket, she said, 'I wasn't doing anything wrong. I was on cruise control.'"

"Oh god, I had one of those too," Bacon said in the slow way that he told stories. "This one put his RV rental on cruise control and went back to shit. Found hisself sitting on the side of the road, with his pants gone. Said he thought cruise control meant it could drive itself."

"Was he hurt bad?"

"Not a scratch except on his bare ass. The fiberglass bathroom saved him. Couldn't drive that RV again though. It was one of those two-by-four square jobbies. Lumber scattered for blocks."

Carl Harper stopped next to Loni and reached out and rubbed her head. "Is that hideous smell what I think it is?"

"Shuddup." Loni stood and hugged him, glad to see a friendly face. "Getting a little gray there, sport? Gained some weight, too?" She patted his stomach. "Hear you're livin' the good life now, playing copper. How come you're not ranching anymore?"

The lines around his eyes deepened as his brown, leathered face beamed at her. "Heard you were playing copper instead of ranching," Carl mimicked her. "How come? Too lazy?"

"She's not ranching because she gave it all back to the Indians," James said from across the room.

Ignoring him, Carl gave Loni another hug. "Good to see you home." He sniffed the air a couple of times. "That's your grandma's famous perfume I smell!"

Loni owned up. "Spent the weekend on Roanie. I'd forgotten how much it hurt."

"Old Roanie's still alive?"

"Yes. And obviously in better shape than I am."

Carl laughed. "So, why did you become a cop?"

"Didn't own two fine Brahmas like you did," Loni teased him.

"I thought you loved those bulls."

"Are Big Hump and Harvey still alive?

"Big Hump died. Sold Harvey to Essey Rigall. I'm sure he would love for you to come see him."

"Yeah, well, now that I carry a gun and all, tell that bull if he gets near me again I'll shoot him."

Carl laughed. "Strange that you were the only one Harvey ever chased."

"You taught him that just to laugh at me."

Clive jumped in. "You two ranch together?"

Carl said, "Nah. We were neighbors. Years ago the ranchers agreed to each buy two bulls from different breeds. Every two years we traded them to keep new blood in the stock." Carl nodded toward Loni. "We had the Brahmas. Every time her granddad got them, she spent the next two years running and hiding."

"Third time we got them, I was fifteen," Loni told Clive. "When I went outside, I had to go backwards with my eyes on them every second or they would flat-foot jump the fence and be on top of me faster than I could blink. For two long years I spent my time climbing trees, hay stacks..."

"Pickups, horse trailers, outhouses..." Carl chuckled at the memories.

"I even tried to climb a mesquite tree once. Damn, that hurt!" Loni winced at the memory.

"It was even funnier when we branded calves. Harvey was right there, his eyes never leaving her. She had to do all the heeling." Carl giggled. "She didn't dare get off that horse." Carl turned back to Loni. "I swear he was in love with you."

"Do you have any idea how creepy that is?"

"I believe it," James's snide voice blurted again.

Carl ignored him again. "At least they were more interesting than those two huge white face you owned. Except when they met at the water trough in the evening. Now that was funny."

"What'd they do?" Clive asked.

"They'd spot each other a half mile away and start bellowing. Take a few steps, stop, paw dirt, throwing it everywhere, bellow a few times. Take a few steps, paw dirt until their backs and heads were thick with it. They had these huge hoofs as big as dinner plates and could throw a lot of dirt. They must have weighed a ton and were as slow as molasses. It took them an hour to finally meet. Then they laid their heads together, hooked horns, bellowed, rocked a bit, bellowed, backed up and, hand in hand, shook off the dirt as they walked over to the water trough together like best of friends."

"Well, at least we could find them when we wanted them," Loni retorted.

"That's true. Those two Santa Cruz of Essey's were amazing. They just simply disappeared. We never saw them the whole two years."

"Except for Willie. He could always find them." Loni smiled at the memory.

"So Bahb put your sorry ass to work this weekend checking his mother cows?"

"You didn't hear. We got rustled last weekend."

"Oh, god." Carl's eyes popped wide in surprise. "All of them?"

"All but one. They chased old Flossie into a cholla patch and left her."

"What'd you do? Shoot her?"

"No. She's tied up in the barn with Shiichoo's medicine."

"So the smell tells me you haven't been on a horse in a while." Carl started laughing.

"You could say that. I'm so sore, I can barely walk."

Carl shook his head, laughing at her. "Good thing I got used to the smell of your grandma's salve."

"You really quit the ranch?"

His face sobered. "Just wasn't worth it anymore. When the folks died, I sold what cows were left and leased the place out." He pulled on his ear. Loni remembered he did that when something bothered him. "Some farmer's leasing it now, growing exotic plants in greenhouses. Can you believe that?"

"I wanted to ask you about that." Leaning closer to Carl, Loni lowered her voice so no one else could hear her. "The dead man I found this morning. You hear about it?"

"Sure," Carl answered. "Who hasn't?"

"Well, he came from the road out of your ranch."

"Really?" Carl stared at her. "That doesn't sound good. You tell anybody?"

"It's in my report. But since nobody reads them anyway, no, I haven't told anyone."

"Thanks for the heads up." Carl seemed relieved. "I'll find out what's going on this afternoon."

"Would you let me know?"

Carl stared at her a few seconds, but before he could answer her, Chief stepped out of his office. "Carl. Tully. In here."

Left alone in her corner, Loni picked up a folder off the desk and fanned herself, looking up at the ceiling to see if the cooler was working, but the ribbon wasn't moving. She thought again that all the government did was make up huge batches of godawful puke green paint to put on every goddamn government building she ever saw.

Loni tried to finish her report on the Mercedes, but the ink refused to flow onto the damp paper. Clive moved over to the chair Carl had vacated and laughed at her. "How many times are you going to try to fill out forms in here before you learn?"

Loni scratched at her heat rash. The tan synthetic uniform wrapped her body in a sauna bath, burning her skin. She kept pulling at her shirt. "Oh hell, I don't know. Obviously I haven't learned yet."

"Hey," a voice behind Loni said, "I've been looking for you for two days. Don't you answer your goddamn phone anymore?"

Loni glanced around to see Chui.

"Don't you answer yours?" James said. "I left you a message that I had to go out of town. I just got back."

So that's why James didn't show up at the Mercedes, Loni thought. She turned back to find Clive watching a sandy haired man walk up to Lola and ask for Chief.

"Must be why we're all here." Clive nodded. "I know him. He's State. Head of Narc, I think. Name's Jim Filbright."

Loni watched Clive eying Lola as she talked on the phone. She had a shoe off and was rubbing her foot. Placing a hand over the phone, she pointed the man toward Chief's office. She hung the phone up and put her shoe back on as everybody, including Loni, stared.

"Those shoes gotta hurt!" The red-headed patrol officer said to Lola as he passed by to hand James a phone message. "Why do you wear them?"

Lola smiled, pinching his cheek. "Power, honey," she answered. "Power."

Followed by Carl, Tully, and Jim, Chief walked into the bullpen. He walked around introducing Jim while he handed each person a folder.

"This here's Loni Wagner. Newbie from LA." Chief pulled on Jim's elbow to move him on.

Jim reached out to shake her hand. "I know who you are," he said cordially. "I have a friend in LA on the Major Crime Squad, and he asked about you. Garrad Peppard."

"Sure. Great detective. Good man."

"He says the same for you. Well. Not the man part."

"Don't be so sure," Chui sniped.

Jim ignored him. "I'm looking forward to your help and your expertise."

"Anytime," Loni assured him, feeling good about the recognition in spite of Chui's comment.

"Listen up." Chief moved on with Jim. "Jim's from the State office. He'll tell you why he's here."

Jim waited until everyone got quiet. "We got three dead in south Phoenix from poisoned meth. The dealer we picked up says his source was Caliente." Jim's eyes swept the room. Small and faded blue, his eyes were surrounded by so much white that his irises nearly disappeared.

Bet he never worked undercover, Loni thought as she pulled out her notebook. His eyes were too distinctive. The lack of inflection in his voice made it hard to listen to him.

"We need to find the source of this one fast because the meth was cut with ricin. We don't think it's intentional because ricin's a deadly poison and dealers really don't want to kill off their customers. For those of you who haven't heard about ricin before, it's leftover from squeezing the oil out of castor beans. All we can figure is some castor oil processor was very careless about where he put his waste. Or maybe someone's growing castor oil plants and got too close to the meth lab. We need to find out."

In the silence, Jim stared around the room again. "This batch of poison will be disastrous, especially if it gets into the schools. We don't know how much got out there before it killed the people in Phoenix. We don't know how much more is coming. Or even where it's coming from."

He stopped and walked across the room with nervous energy. "So here's what you look for. Swallowing ricin causes nausea, vomiting, abdominal pain within twenty-four hours. Inhaling it causes shortness of breath, chest tightness, and coughing within six hours."

Chief studied Jim like he was a scorpion. "You sayin' we follow people around all day to see if they puke?"

A surprised expression crossed Jim's face. "Start with the schools. Tell the administration and nursing staff to be on the lookout. Get to doctors, clinics, EMTs, anyone in health services. Make sure they understand what's happening. Talk to parents. This is serious, people." He punched a fist into the palm of his other hand. "Next thing, find every source you can, call in any favors, get the sonsabitches mixing this stuff." He paused, a frown on his face. "There's not much we can do about the 'shake and bake' meth, but we can still take down the labs."

Jim raised his voice. "I want to know everything you find out. I can't assign highway patrol to help, but I think it's important for you to be on the lookout and share where you can. Agree?" Loni and the four other patrollers nodded. "Questions anybody?" He rubbed the side of his thin nose, waiting.

"Yes." Loni ignored Chief's scowl and the glares from James and Chui. "Have you got a DNA on the blood I sent with the plane crash evidence? Identified the fingerprint on the valve? Checked the drug residue? Figured out what the names and numbers in the notebook mean? Or who the numbers in the cell phone belong to?"

"I haven't heard anything about that, Loni. I'm not sure it's related to this case. What do you think?"

"I don't see any connection yet, but I got a bad feeling about it."

"I'll check into it and get back to you. Any other questions? No? Then I'll turn it over to Chief."

Chief stood. "People, what we're going to do is put together a task force. Everybody available meet in my conference room at nine every morning." He put a hand on Carl's shoulder. "This here is Carl Harper. He's heading it up, so call him if you find anything. I mean anything. Nothing is too small. Let's pay attention out there, people. Let's find these sick bastards."

As Chief stepped back, Carl stood. "Here's where we start." He jingled the coins in his pocket. "James, get Loni's report on Rene's plane and check everything. See if you can find a connection to the meth. Follow up on Loni's questions. Also, check his flight plans over the past year. Can you do that?"

"Sure," James agreed, smirking at Loni.

"Chui, talk to your buddies on the border about any new source for meth. And talk to Rosie. She should know something."

Chui started to say something, but Carl's glare shut him up.

"Tully, talk to Rene's wife. Maybe she can tell you about his trips."

Tully just sat and stared at Carl.

"Tully?"

Finally Tully nodded.

"Good. Anything else?"

Loni sighed and spoke up again. "I think Larry Kildare is involved with Rene somehow."

"Where'd you get that idea?" Chief barked at her.

"I'd rather not say." Loni knew it was the wrong thing to say to Chief, but she wasn't ready to reveal Dorothea's suspicions about her husband. She hung her head, avoiding the eyes staring at her.

Carl looked around the table again. "See you back here in the morning. The rest of you, we want anything you find. And thanks."

Like puppet soldiers, everyone marched out behind Chief. Jim nodded to Loni as he pushed out the double doors. Saying goodbye to Lola, Loni was more than ready to get home when she heard Chief's voice.

"Girly!" Chief had his head stuck out his door. "Get in here!"

Walking into Chief's office, she waited, knowing she wasn't allowed to sit down. Carl and Tully stared up at her with expressionless faces. "Chief?"

"I'm assignin' you to track down drugs."

"But, Chief..."

"Did you hear me say I was through?" Chief barked. Tully guffawed. Loni was grateful that Carl hadn't joined in the fun. "I'm assignin' you to Carl. He'll give you orders at the task force meetings."

She knew the extra hours were punishment for bypassing Chief with the plane's evidence. Or maybe it was just for being a female. Loni glanced at Carl. He raised one eyebrow a millimeter. She stood silently, trying not to squirm from the acrid body smell in the stifling office.

"You can go now. Carl. Get her the hell out of here."

Following Carl into the bullpen, Loni watched Carl open a notebook on his desk. "Sorry, Loni. Maybe I can give you some short jobs. Chief said you got a sniffer?"

"My dog, Coco."

"How about you take her to the school and let her do her thing? Maybe she can find something we can follow up."

"Sure, Carl. I can do that first thing in the morning."

"You better do it now."

"Can't. I need a sample of the ricin for her to smell. I'll get Lola to overnight it from Phoenix."

Carl nodded. "I'll do that for you. Why don't you go on home and get some rest? Tomorrow might be a long day."

Loni headed to the police garage. The coroner had come and gone, taking the body with him. Jim Filbright was watching a crime investigator pull Sudafed packets from the innards of the spare tire. Gary Beasley had taken off the door panel searching for more contraband. Car seats with the upholstery ripped into shreds were scattered across the garage cement floor, and the Mercedes was in pieces. Lord, Loni thought. This would break Bobby's heart.

"Whatcha got?" Loni asked Gary Beasley from behind the yellow tape.

"Looks like Sudafed."

"How much?"

"So far, enough to cook a pound or better."

"This your collar, Loni?" Jim asked.

"I followed him to town," Loni explained. "He was dead with a knife in his stomach by the time I got to him."

Loni called Carl from her truck. "You should know the dead guy had a shit load of Sudafed. You need to be careful out there. Want me to go with you?"

"Well, damn," Carl said. "Thanks but no. I've got it covered."

*  *  *

Worried, Loni drove home and parked in the hangar. She got out and dragged herself over to the plane where Daniel was working. Leaning against the fuselage, she watched him. Black grease streaked his face and light blue work shirt as he dropped a filter into its canister on top of a Cessna Skylane’s engine. "Hey cuz, how's it going?"

"Hunky dory!" Daniel looked up. "And you?"

Loni knew he was making fun of her. "So whatcha doin'?"

"What's it look like?"

"I don't know."

Loni shrugged.

"You don't know when somebody's changing an air filter?"

"So, I'm a retard."

"At least you're smart enough to admit it." Daniel sighed. "Hand me that wrench."

"Good one, cuz." Loni punched his shoulder as she walked away. "Gotta let Coco out now." She started up the stairs.

"I already let her out. You just don't have a comeback."

Loni shook her head and didn't answer.

"See," he hollered at her again. "You got so smart from college that when I say something like a simple hello to you, you're stuck for an answer."

"Keep it up, and I'll sic Coco on you." Upstairs, she opened the door to a brown, wiggling, wooly mass that nearly knocked her down pushing at her. She calmed Coco down as they came back downstairs and wandered in to talk to her uncle. "How come you didn't farm this land?"

Uncle Herm closed his ledger. "My dad said, 'Son, you're too small to pull a plow and too big to ride it. Not coordinated enough to be a cowboy. And you hate to dig. Best make your way somehow else with those aeroplanes you're so crazy about.' So when Pa died, he willed the ranch house and Taylor grazing to your dad and the section next to town to me. He gave Kirk the mining rights. That's all he wanted to do anyway. Did good, too, with the Haley mine."

Loni added, "Made him rich enough to be a Butt Hiller."

Her uncle nodded in agreement. "The old man left me enough money to build the runway and hangar. Found investors to build the airpark houses. Airfield fee pays for it. Built that loft over the offices for overnight stays when someone has to."

"I don't remember most of this," Loni confessed.

"Kids don't," he said reassuringly. "The old man always said nobody's worth a shit until they're at least thirty-five years old."

Loni laughed. "Got a few years to go, but I'm working on it."

"You grew up the hard way. It'll either help or harm. It helped you. Anyhow, you came home to care for family."

"Hope I came soon enough. Shiichoo isn't good."

"How come you're not living at home?"

Loni paused. "Knew I'd be in and out at all hours. Shiichoo would do her best to keep up with me, and that's the last thing she needs. Between you and me? Even though I get lonely, I can use some down time."

"I get that. Well, your granddad and I arranged it. Thank him. ‘Sides, keeps Mae's nephew, Junior, from asking to move in here all the time. I worry about kids wandering the hangar at all hours and the party mess up there."

Loni smiled to herself. She'd picked up more than a few condoms and empty junk food packages cleaning up the place.

"Anyway, I was planning on hiring security. You're it now." Uncle Herm hung his head. "Truth is, I wasn't able to give you a home when you were a kid, Mae sick and all. Least I can do is give you one now."

At a loss for an answer, Loni said, "I don't remember you ever talking so much at one time."

"What? Don't think I know how?"

"Well, yes."

Uncle Herm laughed. "You haven't been around that much to watch Mae train me. She talks all the time and makes me answer."

"Do you really listen to her all the time?"

"Well, I try." Ducking his head, he admitted, "It only matters if she thinks so."

"No shit!" Loni laughed, grateful to be around her uncle again.

*  *  *

Upstairs, Coco tilted her head to one side and crossed her front legs as she watched Loni. After she fed Coco, Loni opened the fridge and grabbed a couple of tamales to eat while she read her grandfather Wagner's history, reminding herself once again to get to the library.

My campfire is gettin' dimmer.

I believe it is best for me my life started a quarter mile above the Caliente School and store in August of 1909. It was a year before the first railroad came in and three years before Arizona became a state. I'm sure that being born in territory inspired my life. I was my own king and jury, and for sure my own council.

The wild horse will be remembered by the few and he is becoming the few more and more. The dust we saw made by them from miles off has mostly settled. I say with reverence that a few of us that have rode upon a ridge to look down at a band, with their unspoiled poise and beauty, of perfect strength and freedom, you mite feel a closer touch with the divine than you've ever known before. After you have been out there around many campfires over many years, then it would grow on you, you belonged. You would feel the freedom as you watched them vanish over the skyline.

In this country for miles, the buracrats and cowmen have used every method to destroy the wild horse and the jackass. It's all been done to save the grass and browse for the cow and the deer they believed. Since they are mostly gone, I haven't seen the cow any fatter nor any cowman get richer, nor the deer count any greater.

I regret I saw the Indian become dominated and mostly sent to the reservations in such a rude and crude style. Then the Cavalry could toot their horns louder and was to benefit the supplier to replenish his larder much on the cost-plus style as the government paid the bill. Many Indians drifted back to their brush and mud huts and a few horses. I'm proud I knew many of them and used their advice on how to hunt and trap and how to survive on the fruits only our God had planted and the wild meats he had created.

Loni sat the notebook down to fill her can with more iced tea. She loved reading how her dad's side lived. She was glad he cared about her Indian side, but she had to wonder what he thought of his oldest son marrying an Indian. She took a long drink and picked up the notebook again.

I saw the coming of the automobile and many of us regret the passing of the far western years as it drastically changed from good to bad to worse a lifestyle of too much hustle and bustle and many good medicines left with the pot they boiled them in.

I'll not linger along writen of the farms. Around 80 percent of the farms that I know about on the lower Phoenix valley floor was lost to the mortgage holders. Even some farmers had got them as a gift. After foreclosures I saw good, old, sound, and at one time, proud families leave there the best way they could. It sure wasn't in a new wagon or new car.

She thought about Carl and the ranch he could no longer run. Were all the ranches doomed to fail? Loni carefully placed the notebook back in the pile and put the boot box under her desk. Pulling out her computer, she wrote to Sandi.

FROM: Loni Wagner

TO: Sandi@gmailyahoo.com

DATE: July 7

SUBJECT: Still not looking

My uncle gave me some notebooks written by both my grandparents on the Wagner side. I nearly cried reading a little bit of it. My grandfather was remembering better times. I've been there.

As to work, looks like we got a meth lab here. If that wasn't bad enough, somebody's cutting the meth with ricin that's killing people. Why would anybody mix ricin with meth? Sheetrock dust would be easier to get. Anybody working with castor beans knows it's poison. Just how close is a castor bean farm? Some people say they grow like a weed in the Southwest, but I don't remember ever seeing any.

And the plane crash case has to be related. Drug residue in a plane, pilot murdered, bunches of money, people dying from ricin poisoning, angry widows. So many loose ends and every time I turn around, I find another one. Like today. I found a dead man with a butt-load of Sudafed in his spare tire and doors. And he might be connected to my friend, Carl, because he was coming out of Carl's place. I asked him about it, and he said his renters told him they had seen a travel trailer between his place and Bahb's. Carl said he checked it out and the trailer was gone. Guess I'll go out there when I can and see for myself.

But what bothers me most is the total quiet around Rene's plane. Not a word about anything. I would really like to be finding my shooter, but I feel a cover up is going on so thick I can't see through it.

Love to you et al.

Loni

Loni was in a soft dream about Maria when the alarm jerked her awake. She almost threw the damned clock across the room.

CHAPTER 8

July 8, 12:05 a.m.

LONI IRONED THE CLEAN uniform her Grandma had washed for her and slowly dressed, reluctant to move into the dark. She lifted her gun belt from the chair back and strapped it on, pulling suspenders over both shoulders to hold it up. Thirty pounds got heavy fast. She checked the two extra gun magazines, her microphone for the mobile camera in the SUV, the collapsible baton, two pairs of handcuffs, two flashlights, a canister of pepper spray, and her taser, making sure they were secure. Untangling the wire, she fastened a shoulder microphone for the police radio to her collar. Last, she grabbed her badge out of an old ceramic ashtray. It was shaped like the inside of a smoker’s black lung, and she kept it sitting on the table as a reminder to never smoke again.

Coco lay against the door, watching Loni's every move. Loni remembered the game Coco and Maria played before they left for work. Every morning, Maria would hide a baggie from the small batches of drugs she kept in the freezer. "Find!" Maria would order her. Coco frantically searched, returned with the baggie, and gently dropped it into Maria's hand before she leaned against the door again. Desolate, Loni pushed away the memories as she rubbed Coco's head on their way out of the door, locking it behind her.

At the station, Bobby was waiting for her. "Chief said for you to use this map tonight." Bobby handed Loni a flyer with the map.

"And do what?" Loni studied it.

"Damned if I know. Bring in illegals?"

"Sure. They're going to stand in the road, waiting for me to arrest them."

Bobby rubbed the thinning blond hair on top of his head. "Sometimes Chief's a serious fuckface. Did you hear about when he went after this black guy who didn't move his tractor out of his way fast enough?"

"Do I want to hear this?"

Bobby leaned forward on the counter. "He got out of his car and pointed his gun, hollering at the guy to move. But the gun scared the crap outta the poor man, so he jumped off the tractor and ran out into the desert with Chief right behind him."

"Well?"

Bobby chuckled at Loni's scowl. "Thought you didn't want to hear this story."

"Bobby! What'd Chief do?"

"Don't know. Didn't find Chief until the next day, sittin' under a desert willow, a very thirsty man with an empty gun in his hand. That dude was never seen again."

Loni winced. "That's not funny, Bobby. About tonight? Don't call me, I'll call you."

"You wish!" Bobby chortled as Loni turned away.

Slowly, walking out the door, Loni studied the flyer getting more and more pissed. Arizona Desert Invasion, it said.

Mexican drug rings and 'coyotes' bring in 75% of all illegal drugs sold in U.S.

Coyotes charge up to $5,000 for each illegal.

More than one million people cross each year and leave eight million pounds of trash, killing animals, and polluting the land.

Illegals send $16 billion back to Mexico.

1.5 million illegals in our schools cost about $7,000 each.

Last year, 800 illegals were found dead in the desert.

Hunt These People Down!

Loni shook her head rereading the last line. Hunt These People Down! Well, shit, what are they? Goddamn animals? She crumpled the flyer into a ball and threw it as far as she could. So they're better off dead? Loni thought angrily. Miles down the road she was still trying to chill out, but it didn't work. Just numbers, she sputtered to herself. Nobody cared. Eight-hundred dead in one year.

This flyer would horrify Maria. She had a warm smile for everyone and a hug for people even if she'd just met them. Homeless, hookers, druggies, and dealers — they all knew her and she knew them by name. She'd give them a ride to the clinic or shelter, a warm coat or shoes. Loni didn't care that they never had any money left over at the end of the month. Not when Maria turned those huge, imploring brown eyes on her. Loni knew she had to do something. Maria would expect it.

*  *  *

It was another deadly slow night. Only a quarter full, the moon didn't give enough light to see in the desert shadows, and her headlights hit a black wall just yards ahead. She wandered desert trails, stopping frequently to shine a spot on a barrel cactus or greasewood. "What do you think, Coco? Anybody out there?"

She didn't expect to find anybody. Illegals on foot avoided roads and towns, looking for work on the farms if they could reach them. They would avoid her police car too. Every night, she thought, somebody she couldn't help was out there suffering.

*  *  *

Loni couldn't see the dust storm, but she could smell it heavy in the air. She drove up to the top of Caliente Butte, watching for the first signs of the blowing dirt. Sniffing the slight breeze, she hoped she wasn't imagining the coolness crossing her face. Lightning flared across the northern sky over the freeway. She was watching for the direction of the flashes when a row of lights popped up far in the distance over toward her grandpa's place. A runway? But where?

Her SUV was crawling back off the butte toward town when she heard the call she dreaded. "Freeway pileup. Seven cars so far, no casualties they know of."

"I'm on my way, but it'll be a bit."

"You got time," Bobby answered. "Caller from a car in the middle of the tangle says dust is really thick."

*  *  *

Bobby called again as she moved traffic around the wrecker hauling away the last of the stranded cars from the freeway pileup. "Illegals at Milepost 56. Need transport."

"How do you know they're illegals?"

"Caller said, 'Mexicans heading north.' You think?"

"Gee, Bobby, sounds like profiling to me."

"Loni, I saw how you reacted to the flyer. You be careful. If there is a coyote, bring him in, you hear?"

"Catching coyotes is the second best thing I love to do."

"I know, I know. You hate domestics, bar fights, coyotes, and drug traffickers. Around here, what else is there?"

"Can't you ever give me a plain ol' drunk?"

"There's no such thing as justice, Loni. Deal with it."

As the last of the tow trucks rolled toward Caliente, Loni sped down Old Highway 85 toward a huge thunderhead. Flashes of lightning snaking down to the desert floor outlined the outer shell of black churning clouds, displaying everything like an old time movie just out of sync. She slowed when she saw headlights ahead, cocked at an angle that reached out into the desert. Stopping the SUV, she sat for a minute and counted three men. One of them had his arm around a young woman who was snuggling a baby. The other two sat at the side of the road staring back. The pickup was stuck off the road in sand. Loni wondered why the people hadn't scattered with the dust.

Drawing her gun, Loni stayed in the dark behind her open door, signaling Coco to search. She heard whispered chatter that she couldn't quite follow, and a wet nose nudged her open palm. Ordering Coco to guard, she walked behind them asking for legal papers. All she got was shaking heads. She handcuffed the men and started her search with the woman. She figured they were just looking for work, but she needed to be careful.

She continued her search with the man next to the woman, wishing she could help them find work and a place to stay. All she found was a switchblade. No ID. She stuck the knife in her pocket, waiting for a reaction, but didn't get one until she got to the third man. He must have been the coyote. The oldest of the group, he was also the most hostile. As his muscles tensed in attack mode, Loni shoved him face first against the SUV. He had a knife in his boot and a slip of paper in his shirt pocket with Chui's phone number. Well, shit.

Squatting down, Loni dug through the diaper bag. It held three cloth diapers, one empty bottle, a small box of dry formula, and two baby tops. It wasn’t much for a long trip. She stuck her finger in the box and tasted it for drugs.

Loni motioned the illegals into the back of her SUV, the coyote last, and locked them in before she searched the truck. The flashing cracks of lightning and booming of the thunderhead hurried her along. There were no drugs, water, or food. That's why they didn't run. They couldn't get far on foot, which means they weren't close enough to their destination to run. Maybe the coyote would talk.

The storm traveled fast as it passed over them and dropped gallons of water on the road, slowing her down to a crawl as she drove to Caliente. The clouds nearly touched the earth in front of her. In spite of the rain, patches of dust hung in the air as she drove into the darkened town, headlights revealing shiny wet streets covered with scattered debris. A tin roof rested on the courthouse lawn. Part of a wood fence blocked the middle of the street. Using all four spotlights to help her dodge around pieces of fence and tree limbs, Loni realized this was more than a dust storm, maybe even a small twister. That would be a first. She bounced her lights along on the buildings as she approached the station. The bell tower from the Catholic church was gone.

Using her flashlight, she herded her prisoners into the police station, relieved to see the red glow of the emergency lights. With Bobby's help, she locked them in the holding cells just as the sky brightened in the blood red breaking dawn.

Loni stood at the second floor jail window and assessed the damage. The twister had jumped and bounced its way through town. The Catholic rectory next to the church had no roof, but the stores on either side hadn't been touched. The vacant shed beside the train station was flattened. Across the tracks, several houses still stood, but a barn was a goner. The wind wasn’t headed toward her grandparents' place or the hangar, so Loni went out to see if anyone in town needed help.

The people milling around the church seemed okay. The priest was in his no longer white gown thanking God he had been spared. Hoping a homeless person hadn't been asleep in the flattened shed, Loni walked around it calling out, but no one answered. Next door to the shed was the Whistle Stop Café. It had been there as long as Loni could remember, so long, in fact, that the letters were worn and flaked away. Only "Whistle" was legible. The café once served railroad passengers, but trains hadn't stopped for years. Its customers had switched to locals. Anyone looking for a rancher or farmer friend stopped in the Whistle Stop early in the morning. They gossiped worse than women and knew where everybody's machine, cow, horse, pig, and wife were within a hundred miles. Lucky it hadn't been damaged.

Smoke poured out of a house across the street, but before she could reach it, shattering glass popped and flames shot out the front window openings. The fire station siren was blaring, but the truck had already headed for the barn. The volunteer firefighters wouldn't be back in time to save the house.

Loni ran around to the back of the house, broke out the window in the door, and reached in to unlock it. The inside of the house was engulfed in flames. She felt someone behind her, and they went in together. Heading down the hall, she opened a door to a black Scotty dog barking between jerks as he pulled at a little girl's pajamas, trying to drag her out of bed. "It's okay, little fellow." Loni grabbed the girl. "Come on."

She met the other person with an older boy in tow. "Anyone else in here?" she asked him, making sure the dog was with them when they got outside. The little girl was sobbing and reaching her hands towards the burning house.

"No." The boy held onto the girl. Whoever had saved him had moved on.

"What's she saying?"

"She's just calling her old ratty cat."

The little girl started crying more, screaming, "Dotho, Dotho, Dotho."

"Where is it?"

"Probably in her bed under the covers."

Pushing back her fear of fire, Loni ran toward the flames shooting down the hall and forced herself to go back into the room. By the time she found the cat, it was too late to go back the way she came. Pulling out her shirttail, Loni stuffed the clawing bundle of fur up her shirt. Just as the fire burst into the room behind her, she raised the window and dived out. The frightened cat clawed its way down Loni's stomach, leaving red welts and dripping blood as she carefully removed it and handed the cat to the little girl, getting a big smile in return.

Loni moved on, checking with Bobby for any other problems. "Only a cow in a tree," he said, "bawling her head off. They think she's okay. But they don't know how they're going to get her down."

*  *  *

Loni got back to the station, hoping the task force meeting was cancelled. It was.

"Are you all right?" Lola asked.

"Aside from the cat scratches on my belly and being filthy dirty from diving out a window from a burning house, I guess I am. I might have lost a bit of hair." Loni pulled her braid around, fingering the singed ends. "Why? Were you worried?"

"You went into a burning building after a cat?" The disgust in Lola's voice was thick as her green eyes flashed.

"You should have seen the little girl. She was heartbroken!"

Lola sighed and grabbed Loni's arm, pulling her around to the back of the counter. She pulled a first aid kit from a shelf and began tugging Loni's shirt out of her pants.

"Hey," Loni objected, laughing. "I'd rather be in a more private place if we're gonna undress."

"In your dreams," Lola shot back, shaking her can of disinfectant. "Hold your shirt out of the way."

"Is this going to hurt?" Loni backed up a step.

"I hope so," Lola followed her, spraying the cat scratches on her belly.

"Damn," Loni complained. "That stings!"

"Good."

"Kiss it and make it better." Loni begged, fanning he stomach with her shirt.

Lola plopped down in her chair. She was dragging Loni closer when Chui walked out of Chief's office. He bellied up to Loni so close she could smell his sour breath as he opened his mouth to yell at her.

Lola jumped up and squeezed between them, facing Chui. "Back off. This is none of your business." She pushed on Chui's chest, forcing him back. "Last time a man told me what to do I damn near killed him. You understand me?"

"Fuck you." Chui jerked and flung an arm up, nearly hitting Lola.

Loni started for her gun, but Chui ignored her and stalked out the front door.

Lola was quiet as she walked around Loni and opened her drawer. She handed Loni a small sack. "Here's the poisoned meth you wanted. Carl wants to know if you can check out the school for drugs now."

"Sure. Tell him as soon as I clean up."

"Can you do me a favor?"

"After the hard time you gave me?"

"Please?"

"What?" Loni gave Lola a suspicious look.

"Do you know Helen Hunt?"

"I assume you mean our town librarian and not the movie actress."

"Of course I mean our librarian."

"Yeah, I do. She was great to me. Gave me a safe place to be. Good to know she's still around." Loni remembered the tall, stately woman’s kind eyes.

"I'm not so sure of that. It's her fault I'm in this mess."

"She's too nice to hurt anyone," Loni said defensively. "What'd she do, anyway?"

"I've got the new art teacher from the high school mad at me."

"What's that got to do with Mrs. Hunt?"

"The teacher came in wanting to see the "Arizona Revised Statutes," and I told her to go to Helen Hunt for it. She flew out of here swearing at me."

Loni tried to keep a straight face, but she started laughing so hard she had to wipe tears off her face.

"I'm screwed, huh?"

"Just about."

"Would you find her and explain? Please!"

"What's wrong with you going?" Loni teased.

"I'm afraid she'll throw something at me before I open my mouth."

"What's her name?"

"Agnes Hartford."

*  *  *

Standing in front of the school, Loni watched Coco make a quick trip to a patch of Indian wheat and felt bombarded by memories. The school was three long, flat wooden buildings, German POW barracks that had been moved in after the war. They were surrounded by chain link fences and painted a putrid pink that could be seen for miles. Evaporative coolers jutted out from windows like sick, green growths. A red-bricked administration building stood outside the fence like a guard house. In its far past, it had been the only school, replacing the first one, a wood shack flattened by a bad dust storm.

With a deep sigh, Loni hurried Coco up the fiery cement walkway into the main building before her paws burned. She walked into the principal's office, thinking the only difference between a school and a jail was that kids could go home at night.

The girl on the other side of the counter seemed all of twelve. Staring out from under long brown hair, her little lost face had a deer caught in the headlights expression. She wasn't dressed like a twelve-year old, however. Her brief tanktop and short skirt were more like a bathing suit than a school outfit. Watching her texting on her phone, Loni wondered if the school had any problems with sexting.

"I'd like to see the principal, please," Loni said.

The girl turned her head toward a closed door behind her. "Mr. Swicart! Somebody's here to see you!"

Loni struggled to keep from laughing at the loud, barking voice that came out of her mouth. "Wow!" she complimented the girl.

Loni flashed onto the principal's name. Shit, he had been her health teacher, another one of those who belonged to the "passing the trash" club. Like the Catholic church, the school never fired the molesters. They just moved them somewhere else, usually giving them more power.

The door opened, and a middle-aged man walked out, wearing a lightweight, white short-sleeved shirt with no tie. A black belt held up the light-colored pants that rode above his round belly. His hair was thinner than she remembered and he'd gained considerable weight, but she recognized him as the same sick sonofabitch. His eyes skimmed over Loni. "Who?"

"Her." She nodded in Loni's direction.

Loni watched the arrogance leach off his shiny face. She could see he remembered their last confrontation.

She had opened a closet door where he had trapped a scared freshman boy with his pants halfway down. The boy hurried out of the room as Swicart pulled his pants up, daring Loni to say anything. "Who's going to believe a breed, anyway," he had snarled. She could smell the garlic oozing out with the sweat.

"Yes?"

"I'm here to search for drugs." His face closed up as he shook his head.

"Can't." From his back pocket, he pulled out an already damp blue kerchief and wiped his face and his balding head. "We got privacy rules."

Surprise, surprise, he'd learned something. "Really?" She remembered her own locker searches. "When did that happen?"

His pale blue eyes darted around the room. "Who sent you?"

"Chief."

"Aren't you State?" He stared at her uniform and badge.

"Yes." She drew the word out for a few seconds.

"You said Chief?"

"Yes." She drew it out again, watching him make a decision.

"I'm not unlocking any lockers."

"I'm not telling you to. Yet." Loni fought her need to shove his flat face up his ass. "I intend to wander and let the dog take me where she wants to go."

Swicart leaned against the counter. "That a sniffer?"

"Yes."

"Just drugs?"

"No."

"No?" Swicart pushed closer to her.

"No."

"What else?"

"Fear."

Swicart stared at her a minute and finally shrugged. "Go ahead." He waddled back to his office.

Loni turned back to the gum-chewing girl who was busy texting. "Hey, over here."

The girl didn't look up.

"Where can I find Ms. Hartford?"

Still staring at the phone, the girl walked over to the schedule board and briefly looked up. "Room 29. Middle building."

"Thanks." Loni turned away. "I know where it is."

She opened the gate into the yard of dry dirt around the middle school. "Well, Coco, might as well start here while we find the teacher." Lockers lined the wide hall. She pulled out the sample of the ricin-laced meth for Coco. She gave a short staccato bark whenever she found the same smell. Loni followed as Coco moved from locker to locker. It was kind of fun to be on the chase again, although she'd rather it wasn't a school. Sometimes Coco hesitated and pawed the locker but didn't bark. Loni moved on, noting the drug finds, grateful they weren't the poison.

The door to Room 29 was open. Walking in ahead of her, Coco danced toward the hands reaching out to pet her. Rubbing her side to calm her, Loni glanced around for the teacher. Suddenly a bulky, colorful body blocked her path.

"Can I help you?"

"Are you Agnes Hartford?"

"Yes?"

It was the wild, colorful watermelons that jarred Loni. Scattered across a green background all over her blouse and skirt, they matched her shoes. Even the large round glasses propped on her wild green hair had teeny, tiny watermelons. Good god, Loni thought, ducking her head and pinching her nose hard to keep from bursting out into laughter. She would get Lola for this, she thought.

"Yes?" The woman's high voice twanged Loni into a response.

"I'm Loni Wagner. Can we talk somewhere private?"

"What about?"

"Private, please?"

Agnes turned, and Loni followed her into a small room with a glass window that opened onto the classroom. The room was so stuffed with supplies that Loni told Coco to wait by the door. She closed the door behind her and stood. There was no place to sit. She was silent, not knowing how to begin.

"Well?"

Loni took a deep breath and jumped in. "I need to explain a problem."

"You a parent?"

"No," Loni felt herself shrinking, ready to run. Teachers did that to her. "A friend said something to you that came out very wrong and asked me to explain and apologize."

"Well?"

"Did you know we have a town librarian named Helen Hunt?" Loni watched the expression on Agnes's face slowly change from suspicion to horror.

"Oh my god." She turned almost as red as the watermelon on her blouse. "Please tell her I'm so sorry." The woman pawed at Loni with her long, watermelon red talons, apologizing over and over. "I'm so sorry!"

*  *  *

An hour later, Loni had finished searching all the lockers. Five with drugs from middle school, thirteen from high school, and two from elementary. The last made her really sick. But nothing, thank god, from the ricin batch. She worried when Coco hesitated, cocking her head at Loni for confirmation. It was time to start training again. Unwilling to put up with Swicart one more time, Loni skipped the principal's office and left the school behind as she drove toward the ranch.

By the time Loni turned off Old Highway 85, it was too late for a nap, especially when she found a truck blocking her way. Loni hoped Shiichoo wouldn't be too upset. The Thursday truck had come, bringing the electric stove and refrigeration unit.

Everyone sat around the kitchen table staring at Bill Henry as he connected the stove. Bill gave Shiichoo a short lesson on how it worked while everyone except Loni's grandma stared intently. She grimly stood in front of it, turning it off and on, watching the burners immediately turn red and immediately fade.

Loni went over to stand beside her. "See the red light there? When that's lit, the stove is still too hot to touch."

"How much electricity does that waste?"

Loni shook her head as she slammed the screen door behind her. It was going to be all right.

In the loft again, Loni heated up the food Shiichoo had handed her when she left. With a full stomach, she took a long, cold shower and climbed buck naked into bed and wrote to Sandi.

FROM: Loni Wagner

TO: Sandi@gmailyahoo.com

DATE: July 8

SUBJECT: Still not looking

I think we had a real tornado go through town this morning. It only damaged four buildings, thank god. Took out the Catholic church bell tower and rectory, a shed, and a barn. Left a cow in a tree. Had to pull a child and her cat out of a burning building. I hope my old nightmares of burning to death don't come back.

I saw this flyer that said more than 800 Mexicans died in the desert this year trying to get into the United States. Think about it! An imaginary line keeping Mexicans out of their own country. I spent my shift looking behind everything, worrying someone was out there needing help. I can't even imagine the suffering. And then I picked up a pickup load of illegals and had to put them all in jail. It made me sick to know that no matter how much I wanted to help, I couldn't do it. But I know Maria would have found a way, and that makes me feel even worse.

On a better note, Shiichoo's electric stove and air conditioning unit came. She tried to look mad, but I know she's pleased. And thanks for asking about her. She seems better now.

Take good care of you and yours.

Loni

CHAPTER 9

July 9, 2:54 a.m.

LONI COULDN'T STAY awake. She pinched her nose and rubbed her cheeks until her face was rubbed so red somebody might think she had been drinking. Kneading her neck, she leaned against Coco, who was leaning against her. Loni pulled off the road and stopped at a pull out before she fell asleep at the wheel.

Reaching under her seat for the "Disney Fairy" lunch box she had discovered in a long-packed moving box, Loni took out a cold tamale. She peeled off the corn husk and gave half to Coco, who swallowed it in one gulp and looked wistfully at her. Shaking her head, Loni pulled the tamale apart again, one piece for Coco and one piece for Loni until it was gone. She sipped her coffee for awhile, counting stars until she gave up in boredom, and snapped the lunch box closed, flashing on Maria making fun of her femme "fairy" lunchbox.

"But it's a collectible!" Loni retorted in defense.

"Then put it on a shelf."

"You don't mind the fairy carrying it," Loni had answered. "So what's the problem?" Overwhelmed by painful memories of the playful Maria, Loni stared out at nothingness.

Suddenly she jerked awake, aware that she had gone to sleep, and nearly conked herself silly on the steering wheel. "Crap!" She got out of the SUV and stomped in circles around a catclaw bush, carefully avoiding its catclaw shaped thorns. Sweat rolled down her face and the back of her shirt.

Returning to the SUV, she took a swig of water and poured some into a thermos lid for Coco, dodging her turkey drinking. She soaked her hair with the rest of the water and shook like a dog.

Loni had fished out another tamale and was leaning back against the SUV hood peeling off the corn husks when Bobby's slow drawl bounced against her ear from the shoulder radio. "Burn victim at the old Caulwell farm on the southwest corner of Victor and 85."

"When did a burn victim become a police problem?"

"Well, guess it's not. Ambulance is picking up the kid. What it is, though, is the theft and destruction of property. Kid lit a match trying to steal gas out of a tractor. Got a bad barn fire now."

Dumping out the still-hot coffee, she flung the tamale into the brush for a coyote to find and jumped into the SUV. Lights running and siren blaring, the SUV sped toward the farm. No one was around to get out of her way, but it was something to do.

She could see the glow of the barn five miles away. Oh, man! A hay fire was impossible to put out. She had seen a fire bury itself deep in a stack and smolder for weeks before it flared up and burned all over again. The last haystack fire she helped fight was caused by a lazy farmer who baled and stacked too green. Or maybe he didn't want to farm anymore. He took the insurance money, sold the land for half of what is was worth, and moved to Alaska. Said he'd rather freeze to death than burn in hell a day longer.

The yellow glow danced behind a silhouette of cottonwood trees. Loni herded traffic around the volunteer firefighters as they fought the flames, pulling the hay apart with iron rakes and pitchforks. Lucky for them, the farmer was too poor to have a big stack, but it was still after the sun rose before the worst of the fire was out.

Bone tired, Loni answered questions from early morning passersby on their way to work, mostly about the boy. "Yes, he's still alive." "Yes, the burn was pretty bad, but he's alive." "No, he was by himself." "Don't know why Boyd wasn't with him." "I'm good. And you?" "Yes, he's alive." "Don't know." "Yes."

The sun was rapidly rising when the firefighters finally packed up to leave. She called in one last time to see how the boy was.

"Not good," Bobby reported. "Won't be able to light matches again, they say. Might not see the flame again, either."

Glad to leave the smell of smoke and wet ashes behind, Loni was on the outskirts of Caliente when Bobby's voice crackled. "Clinic called about a gunshot wound. Need a report."

"Any deaths?"

"Didn't say," Bobby said laconically.

"Where are the detectives?"

"In with Chief. He said to send you."

Wondering why everybody was at work so early, Loni parked by the emergency entrance. The woman at the desk on the phone wore a nametag that said "Chelsa." She covered the phone and whispered, "Gunshot victim?"

Loni nodded, recognizing her from high school. She had the same short, light-brown kinky hair and cheerful expression. She never had an unkind word for anyone, not even for that piece of shit she started dating in Loni's senior year, Brad Taylor. He was a cocky bully, one of James's cohorts and Loni's personal nemesis. Loni wondered if they ever got married.

When Chelsa hung up the phone, she said, "I heard you'd come back. Good to see you."

"You too. It's good to see a friendly face," Loni said. "So where's the gunshot victim?"

"Third curtain." She pointed to a corner of the large room.

"What's her name?"

Chelsa handed Loni the file. Loni cautiously opened a slit in the curtain. "Is it okay if I come in?" She recognized the heavy set, fiftyish bleach-blonde as the bartender at the Volcano Bar and Eatery, a spot on Old Highway 85 that used to be one of the stage stops.

She was lying on her back with a bandage wrapped around her leg above her knee. Smeared mascara smudged under her eyes made the circles even darker. Her uncovered leg was propped up on pillows. A lightweight warming blanket pulled up to her chin was tightly bundled around the rest of her body except for one hand that she used to restlessly click the remote control from channel to channel on the TV. Loni stood at the end of the bed until the woman snaked her other hand out of the blanket and pulled off her headphones. She continued to avoid Loni's eyes as she kept clicking and staring at the TV.

"Chastity? Want to tell me how you got shot?"

"Not really."

"Why is that?"

Chastity put down the remote and sighed. "I shot myself."

"Really? Accidentally?" Loni waited. This should be interesting.

"Well, no. I decided to commit suicide, so I shot myself in the leg first to see if it would hurt."

Loni hoped she could keep a serious face. "Did it?"

A chagrined expression crossed Chastity's oval face. "Like a mother."

"Still thinking about it?"

Chastity turned toward Loni for the first time. "Not today."

Loni gave her a "Need Help?" card from her shirt pocket. "My cell number is on the back. If you need someone to talk to or any kind of help, please call me."

Chastity ignored her and went back to clicking the remote as Loni laid the card on the table.

Loni stopped at the desk. "Did you find out why she shot herself?"

"Nothing new. Her boyfriend left her for a young thing."

"She been with him long?" Loni asked.

"Yes. They tended bar together at the Volcano. Been there for years."

"Anybody picking her up?"

Shaking her head, Chelsa frowned. "I'm getting an ambulance to take her home."

"Can I keep this file?"

"Sure. It's your copy."

"How many gunshot wounds have you gotten this year?"

"Deliberate or accidental?" Chelsa grinned.

"Both."

"This is our second suicide attempt. The first one was successful." She thought a minute. "Only one accidental. Last week these two guys were white wing hunting. He said his dog shot him." Chelsa paused a few seconds and laughed. "At least, I think it was accidental. He was such a crybaby I was ready to give the gun back to the dog."

Loni felt her mouth drop open. Chelsa reached over and closed it. "He said he propped his shotgun against a tree. His golden retriever was so excited about the hunt it jumped up and fell on the gun. The guy thought the dog caught a nail on the trigger and the gun fired as it went down."

"Oh shit, oh dear! What kind of damage?"

"Lucky for him the buckshot just grazed his butt. Had to dig out a few pellets."

"Chelsa!" Lu rushed in. "You got a gunshot here?"

"Whoa. It's not an emergency. She's just needs a ride home."

Lu inspected Chelsa and smiled. "I was scared your asshole ex showed up shooting." Chelsa beamed. Lu finally noticed Loni. "We gotta stop meeting like this."

Loni's gaydar pinged, and she teased back. "It's your fault, you know. Disasters follow you like Pigpen's cloud."

"Maybe, but I usually get there in time to help. What's your excuse?"

Sighing, Loni shrugged in agreement as she picked up her folder and walked out of the clinic.

*  *  *

Loni left her SUV in the police lot and walked into the station, Coco at her side.

"So?" Lola sounded worried as she looked at Loni with those deep emerald eyes. "How'd it go with Agnes."

Loni's face took on a serious expression. "She said she'd meet you later for a showdown."

Lola's face fell. "Really?"

Loni laughed. "No, it was fine. She said to tell you how sorry she was for the misunderstanding. Said she'd come by and apologize. I'm getting back at you for not warning me about her weird clothes."

Lola snickered. "Wild, huh? She's one of those people who leaves bad taste behind wherever she goes."

"Remind me not to follow her then." Drawing herself tall to face Chief, Loni asked Lola to keep Coco out of sight behind the counter. "Which reminds me. I need to sign out some samples of drugs to train Coco."

"Like what?"

"What do you pick up the most?"

Lola shrugged. "Maybe pot, coke, meth, some mescaline."

"Any opium or Ritalin?"

"Rarely."

"Okay, how about some pot, coke, and a couple of buttons." Loni ticked them off on her fingers.

"You're gonna have to return them."

"Maybe."

Loni smiled at Lola's stern look. "Think I'll give you drugs with that smart mouth, think again, sister."

"I'm not your sister." Loni saw the snide expression in Lola's eyes. "Nor your brother, or father, or mother, or uncle, or aunt, or lover, or..."

Blushing, Lola interrupted, "Okay, okay. See me tomorrow." She ducked her head and bent down to coo at Coco. "Such a sweet girl you are. Yes, you are. Yes, you are. Yes, you are."

"Judas." Loni sighed. "Does everybody talk to animals like that?"

Lola grinned. "You want me to keep her or what?"

"Got it."

Loni tailed Chui and James into Chief's small conference room next to his office. Or what Chief called the conference room. Loni stepped into a long, narrow room with no windows and painted the usual prison green. Rickety chairs of unknown ages and colors lined a long, thin missionary table, none of them comfortable or even stable.

She found herself sitting next to Tully. He was so close to her that Loni could feel his breath. Smell him, too. God! She hated the smell of garlic, especially in the mornings. What was it with all that garlic? Across from her, Chui kept bumping her with his boot. She wanted to move away, but Carl sat on her other side, penning her in. He frowned as he sat the briefcase lying open in front of him. All dressed up this morning in a crisp clean tan suit and brown striped Arrow shirt with a plain tan tie, he was quite a contrast to Chui's wrinkled cotton T-shirt and worn Levis. Chui hadn't shaved and looked like he had slept in his clothes.

She glanced around at James, sitting beside Chui. James stared arrows at her. He had his mother's round face, but it's too bad he doesn't have her sense of humor, Loni thought as she turned away. Avoiding all the stares, she watched the fan on a shelf at the end of the room as it oscillated with jerks and screeches in a feeble attempt to move the dead air. Otherwise the room was quiet. She missed the dark humor that bounced back and forth when cops got together in her other job.

"Come on, people, let's get started," Chief demanded as he sat in his rolling plush chair with his back to the closed door. He had his usual large, ugly bolo tie on. Loni had an almost uncontrollable urge to giggle at his tight face as his eyes darted around at the room with no place to light. "Okay, Carl."

Carl stood and removed a stack of papers out of his briefcase, all in slow motion. He handed it to Loni. She took the top sheet and passed the rest on. "Here's what we know."

Loni read the page until the rustling of the papers and chatting settled.

"I'm sure you've already heard, but Todd Barclay died last night. We think it's the bad meth." Carl's eyes teared. "His mother went in to wake him for school this morning. He had such promise, an exceptional artist."

Loni hadn't heard that. How did everyone else know and she didn't?

"Great right end," James butted in. Everyone stared at James until he squirmed. "Well, he was."

"Another thing, and we don't know if it's related. Got a stabbing death. Young man name of Perry Abbott. Anybody know him?"

Heads shook all around the room.

"Had a load of pseudoephedrine in the trunk of his car. Mexican license plates. I'm looking into this one." Carl confronted Chui. "Hear anything about a source from Mexico?"

"Not yet."

"Have you tried?"

Chui jerked up ready to fight Carl. "You doubtin' me?'

Carl didn't back down. "Talk to Rosie yet?"

Chui squirmed. "She don't know nothin'."

"You talk to her?"

"You got a reason I should?" Chui said belligerently.

"It was only a question, Chui," Carl replied. He stared down at his notes, then back up at Chui. "Guess we won't know until you do, will we? I'm sure you'll find time for it."

Carl continued around the table. "James, what did you find on the plane?"

"You didn't tell me to look at the plane. You said look at Loni's report. My dad still has the plane. Want me to go take another look?"

"What did Tully tell you?"

James turned to Tully. "You know anything?"

"Nope."

"Didn't think so." James turned back to Carl. "He doesn't know anything."

"What'd you find out at Rene's home airport?"

James shrugged. "Flight plan said he was going to San Diego. Made the flight plan for home but never got there."

"No shit," laughed Tully.

Carl frowned at him. "Rene's wife have anything to say?"

Tully held on to his belly. "Do that today, boss. First thing."

Carl stared at Tully.

"I'm already out the door. See?"

"After that, talk to Todd's parents. Find out where he was last night."

Tully finally nodded.

No one said a word.

"Guess this here meeting's over then." Chief pushed his chair out the door toward his office.

In her hurry to get out, Loni almost slammed into Chief as he blocked her way. "You got nothing more to say to Jim Filbright, got it?" he said menacingly.

"Got it, Chief." Waiting until his body rolled into his office, she rushed to pick up Coco. As she reached Lola's counter, Tully gripped her arm, complaining. "How come you sent all that stuff to Phoenix without me lookin' at it? You made me look bad."

"You don't need any help from me," she retorted.

Lola handed Tully one of the lollipops she kept for the little kids. "Here, big boy. Suck on this." She turned to walk away, and Tully patted her butt. Knocking his hand away, she snapped. "Tully. That's one!"

"How about two? I can do that again."

"Listen, toad vomit. Think about that old joke before you pat my ass again."

"What old joke?" he said, perplexed.

In exasperation, she turned to Loni. "You tell him. I'm too busy to waste my time with assholes."

Loni laughed. "You tell it. You'd do a better job."

Admiring Lola as her arm-waving set her bangles into musical motion, Loni watched her look Tully in the eye. "This newlywed couple's in a buggy pulled by a mule. The new wife keeps talking a blue streak. The mule stumbles, and the man flicks him with his whip and says, 'That's one.' The wife keeps right on. The mule stumbles again, and the man says, 'That's two.' Ignoring him, the wife blathers on. The mule stumbles again. 'That's three.' The man grabs a shotgun out from under his seat and shoots the mule dead. Really pissed off, the wife turns to him and says, 'What did you do that for?' He turns to her and says, 'That's one.'" Lola paused. "You listening, Tully?"

"Not a problem, Lola. You got no gun," Tully said sardonically.

Lola unlocked a drawer and pulled out a gun. "Tully, that's two."

Laughing, the men who had collected to hear the joke scattered.

Quietly, Loni said to Lola. "Is Tully really that dumb?"

Lola leaned back, studying Loni. "I wouldn't turn my back on that one. I think he's smarter than he lets on."

"Street smart?"

"Shrewd. In his eyes." Playing with the stacked bracelets on her wrist, she considered. "When he thinks somebody's watching, I swear he deliberately finds ways to make himself look bad."

"Maybe he's lazy."

Lola was quiet a minute. "I don't think so. Ask him sometime for computer help. Can't be lazy and know what he knows."

"Do you know how long he's been around here?"

"A couple of months before you. Midwinter, I think."

"Know where he came from?"

"No." Lola unlocked a file drawer on the side of her desk. "Come to think of it, I don't believe it's in his file, either." She read for a few minutes. "Nope. It doesn't say anything. Curiouser and curiouser."

Loni changed the subject. "Can you get me the phone numbers of the ranchers between here and the border?"

"Sure. Tomorrow okay?"

"You bet."

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

Loni panicked. "Depends. What?"

"I've read your file. You've got a bunch of awards and commendations. Great recommendations, too. So what are you doing here?"

"Sick Shiichoo."

"Slick swho?"

"Sorry." Loni laughed. "That's Apache. It means my grandma on my mother's side."

"Must be more than that."

Loni thought for a minute to decide what to say. "I worked with violent crimes, profiling serial killers. Also did a lot of sexual assaults. One day my partner and I chased a perp into a building. Perp jumped off of a fire escape with my partner right behind. It was pretty dark. Backup cop arrived and followed her around the corner, and shot her three times in the back. I stayed around with another partner for a while, but I was done with it. My grandma's not well, and I wanted to help her anyway so it gave me a reason to come home."

"Didn't the backup warn her? Give her a chance to tell him who she was?"

"Not a word."

"So, what happened to him?"

"Drummed out. Became a fireman."

"No shit! Listen, honey, I'm surprised you left him alive," Lola exclaimed.

"The truth? So am I. The Apache in me was exploding, but the Papago in me won. My granddad's voice."

"What?"

"Do no harm. Over and over he said to me as I grew up. Do no harm."

Lola nodded toward the bullpen. "So are you sorry you came home?"

"Every day. But if I ever get some sleep and have time to think about it, I might change my mind." Loni’s lips curved upward. "Meeting you may have made a difference."

"You flirting with me?"

Carl came out of Chief's office and beckoned Loni to follow him. "You need a desk. Take one of those with a computer and stick some personals on it."

"Sure."

"I know you're tired, Loni. But can you do one more thing for me?"

"Sure." Loni followed Carl out of the building, knowing she had no choice.

"I didn't get Todd's ceramics teacher interviewed. Can you do that now?" Carl squinted at the hot sun and slid on his sunglasses. "Damn, I'm tired of this heat." He got into his patrol car.

Silently agreeing and extremely envious as she watched Carl roll up his windows, Loni slipped on her own sunglasses and walked with Coco to her truck. Loni thought about the boy's parents and hoped Tully would dredge up some sensitivity when he talked to the grieving parents.

*  *  *

Loni walked into the ceramic room through a colorful door covered with graffiti-like cartoons. She was surprised the students were allowed to paint it. In the middle of the students was the reddish-blond haired woman from Rene's funeral. The full length yellow apron covered a gray short-sleeved blouse, and her Levis were smeared with an array of vivid colors.

The woman's smile revealed a small gap between her top front teeth that Loni had always found sexy.

"Hi, I'm Jenny O'Neal. You're here about Todd?"

"Yes."

"Let's go in my office." Jenny's warm expression faded as her eyes teared. Loni followed her in, leaving Coco in a circle of excited students. Jenny's small office was like Agnes's, same large window opening onto the organized chaos of the ceramics class, and same mess. Jenny cleared the papers from a chair and offered it to Loni.

She moved with the natural grace of a dancer, Loni thought. Nice to watch. Her eyes were a light-brown, almost cat golden. "I'm sorry. Todd was so beautiful. The most talented student I've ever had." She stopped and wiped her eyes. "One of my students talked about a party where Todd took her last night." She gazed out the window at the class. "Just a minute. I'll let her tell you." Jenny called out to a student, "Katy, could you please come here?"

A petite girl with long, dark hair and braces on her teeth came into the office. Any other time she would be pretty, with her delicate pointed chin giving her face a heart shape. Today her eyes were swollen from crying, and her short nose was red and raw. Loni stood up to give Katy her chair. "She was home alone and couldn't stand it," Jenny explained. "Her friends are here."

Nodding, Loni sat on the floor. It made her less threatening. "Are you Katy Beachum?"

Katy nodded.

"I'm Loni Wagner from the state police. I wanted to ask you about last night."

"I need to get back to my class," Jenny said. "Talk to you later?"

Nodding, Loni watched her walk away before she turned back to Katy. "Has anyone interviewed you yet, Katy?

Sniffling, the girl shook her head.

"Tell me about last night's party."

Between sniffs, Katy said, "The assistant football coach had a barbeque for the team. Like up in Caliente Butte." She stopped again to blow her nose. "Even losers like Billy Joe were there, you know? Like I remember because he and somebody else held Todd down and like made him drink something." She shuddered a sigh. "Like he never took drugs, you know? Said he hated them."

"Did they say what it was?"

"Something about Come to Mama. Everybody kept looking at me and laughing, you know? Like even the coach's wife. Is that what killed him?"

Evidently she didn't know anything about sex enhancers, Loni thought. "Billy Joe. Is that Billy Joe Kildare?"

"Yeah. A real slime ball."

"What adults were there?"

"Just the coach and his wife. They're really nice."

"What happened then?"

"We had hot dogs and hamburgers. There were all kinds of fruit and dessert. Like some kids threw oranges around until they hit this girl, you know? She tried to make them stop, but they wouldn't so she left."

"Didn't the coach make them stop?"

"I don't remember seeing him around. His wife like laughed and sort of danced around with the boys like she was having a good time, you know?"

"What was Todd doing?"

"That was the really strange thing. He, like, couldn't sit still. He was tossing oranges. Then he'd sit down a minute. Then like he was up again." Tears rolled down her face. "He got mad at me when I tried to get him to dance with me. He jerked me up and dragged me to the car. He didn't say anything. He left me home, you know? That was the last time I saw him." Katy kept sobbing. "I don't understand." She wailed. "He never acted like that before."

"Do you know the coach's address?"

"Yes, it's next to Glenda's. My friend." She nodded out the window. "647 Caliente Butte Drive." Still sniffling when the bell rang, Katy said, "Can I go?"

"Sure," Loni answered her gently as she followed the girl out of the office.

"I really appreciate this," Loni said to Jenny after the students had gone.

"Did she help you?"

"I hope so."

Jenny’s voice got quiet. "I heard you know something about sexual assault crimes. Is that true?"

"I've had training, yes. But if you have one to report, you need to tell Chief."

"I talked to him. Twice. He told me girls are always screaming rape when they don't get what they want, but they didn't really mean it." Jenny stopped, a disgusted look on her face with something else Loni couldn't read. "But I'm convinced someone is not only raping young Mexican girls, he is drugging them to rape them."

"Did they get to the clinic for rape testing?" Loni's sex crime training kicked in.

"The first one did. It was too late when the second one talked to me."

"When did she go to the clinic?"

"About a month ago." Two students came into the room and Jenny changed the subject. "Maybe we can meet for coffee tomorrow? At the Greasy Spoon?"

"Sure." Loni nodded. "What time?"

"Noon?"

"Good." Loni nodded. Walking out the door, she called Carl to report.

"Hey," Carl answered her. "I need one more thing from you. Tully can't make his interview with Todd's folks, and I'd like you to do it. You should take Coco over there anyway and see if the kid had any drugs." He rushed his words so that Loni couldn't refuse.

"What the hell, Carl! Does Tully do anything?" Loni snapped her cell phone shut and drove to Todd's parents' house. Signaling Coco to stay behind her, she walked up to the door and knocked. She remembered them. High school sweethearts years ahead of her, Bill ran the Whistle Stop Café with his dad, and, between pregnancies, Janine waited on tables. Loni saw a closed sign on the café as she drove to Bill and Janine's house.

"Bill. Janine. I'm so very sorry about your loss."

Pulling Janine with him, Bill stepped back and let Loni and Coco in. It was hard for Loni not to cry.

"Thanks, Loni. Heard you were back. And a cop no less." Bill stared at Coco.

"She's a police dog," Loni responded to Bill's unspoken question. Loni fiddled with her sunglasses. "I was sent over to go through Todd's room. And maybe ask a few questions if you're up to it. Is that okay with you?"

"No." Janine wiped tears off her face. "I'm not okay with it, but I know you have to do it."

Bill led her to the couch and sat down with her. He and his wife had both gained weight. Long-legged and short-waisted, Janine was taller than Bill until they sat together. Her brown hair, cut short, was graying. Bill's dark-rimmed glasses partly hid his eyes, and his recently shaved head gleamed white against his tanned face. He looked out of place without his tall white cook's hat on. "We need to know what happened, sweetheart."

"I'll keep this short, I promise." Loni sat down across from them. "I need to know about his friends and about the party he attended last night."

Janine leaned against Bill. "He said it was the usual opening season celebration with adult supervision." Janine buried her face in Bill's shoulder. He rubbed her back as he talked. "His friends were really good kids, too. I don't see any drugs going on with them." He paused. "I was watching for it, too. We both were. Close to the border like this, it's easy for them to get drugs," he continued. "His girlfriend is... I mean was... Katy Beachum. He buddied around with Jimmy Crowe, Fuzzy Bals, Jake Jr., and Alvin Petre." He patted his wife. "Is that about it, honey?"

She nodded in his shoulder and mumbled, "They're the ones that hung out here."

"Good." Loni stood up. She knew all the names. Jake Jr. must be the mayor's son. "Can I see his room?"

"At the top of the stairs, last door on the right," Bill answered her. "He shares it with his brother. Don't know what belongs to who. But Todd keeps... kept his space neat."

Loni easily identified which part of the room had belonged to Todd. Jenny was right about his talent. Drawings and paintings were pinned on the wall above a small desk with a laptop computer. Bed was neatly made. Bookcase was filled with science books, mostly animal anatomy. Did he want to be a vet? No, Loni decided he was learning how to draw animals. She opened his closet for Coco to sniff. Clothes were neatly on hangers or folded on shelves. This is a teenage boy? She opened all the boxes found more of the same. Neat. Organized.

Coco finished and quietly sat in the center of the room. "Nothing to say, Coco? Good to know." Checking out his desk, Loni opened drawers and skimmed the papers. Just class notes. Research. Loni was amazed at the list. Most of the anatomy terminology she didn't even know. Making sure that no drug names were listed, she took the papers and the computer back downstairs. Bill and Janine sat on the couch, Bill holding her as she cried. "We'll mail you a receipt for the computer and papers. I promise to get them back to you as soon as I can."

"Did you find anything?"  Bill asked. "Anything at all in those papers?"

"No," Loni told him. "Just class notes."

"And?"

"Nothing. Really. No drugs. I don't expect to find anything. What I see is a teenager serious about his art. Nothing more."

Loni let herself out. Wondering where the other kids were, she made a mental note. Need to tell Carl to interview them. She remembered seeing two girls working at the café. And Todd's brother. Siblings often knew more than anyone suspected.

*  *  *

Home at last, Loni was hungry. She fried herself some hash browns and eggs. Working on the night shift, she never cared what she ate or when. She glanced around for something to read, realizing she missed going to the library again. She wondered if Mrs. Hunt would pick some mysteries out for her. She was always good at that. Loni opened the boot box again and pulled out her grandmother's notebook.

NOVEMBER 24, 1917.

Big day. Mama came down with the measles and also delivered Sal, the family baby and our pride and joy. Everything she did was something to ooh and ah over for my older brothers and me. She was a little white-headed, brown-eyed beauty. If she got spanked, we were all suffering right along with her. Believe me it was a clash of wills too because Mother never gave in. If she said to do a thing, we'd do it even it took a long time.

Papa never whipped me, but the sad way he'd act if I disappointed him and how he'd talk and explain things to me. I'd feel about a foot high and sorry and wished he'd whip me instead.

Our cousins came to live with us for awhile. A girl older than me and a boy my age. Mama and Auntie were quilting and sent me down the road a mile to the neighbors where my cousins were playing with the neighbors. They were playing cowboys and Indians. Butch was tied to a post in the front yard and they were doing a war dance around him. They never asked me to play. When I got home auntie said, "Did you see the kids?" I wasn't going to lie, but I guess it sounded like it. I said, "They've got Butch tied to a post and doing a war dance." I should have stopped there, but I had to elaborate a little. I said, "I think they were going to light the fire to burn him at the stake." Thread and chalk and scissors flew thru the air. Aunt Nettie turned her chair over and mama was already out of the house. I thought I'd better stay where I was. Auntie was short and fat, but she sure got home fast and pretty soon mama came back and whipped me with the yard stick. I didn't mind that, but hated the indignity of holding my skirts up so she could hit the back of my bloomers.

Christine, Butch and I didn't do anything but fight. Hateful needless fights kids get into. Part of it was my fault when we got to the point of really fighting with our fists, sticks, or whatever. Butch and I were up in an ironwood tree and we got to pulling hair. That is one thing that never hurt me. My scalp must be leather. Anyway, mama and my aunt told us to come down at once. I didn't dare disobey, and I wouldn't turn loose first, so we both let go of the tree and fell to the ground. It knocked the breath out of us. Both mama and auntie cried. It was a climax, auntie said she'd better move on before I killed some of them. I guess I was born with an evil fairy godmother.

Loni had to laugh thinking about growing up with James and her other cousins and the fights they had over the years. Except for Daniel. Maybe she had an evil fairy godmother, too.

FROM: Loni Wagner

TO: Sandi@gmailyahoo.com

DATE: July 9

SUBJECT: Still not looking

I know I told you about how much I like my cousin Daniel, but I don't think I told you about James. We've always been serious enemies, and now I have to see him every day! I worry about what he might do to me.

This town is beginning to feel like LA. We lost a great kid to ricin poison and have no idea where it's coming from. I interviewed his parents this afternoon. It's the hardest thing I've done in a long, long time.

And the high school art teacher tells me that there's a serial rapist attacking teenage girls. I'm going to work with her on that no matter what Chief says.

A woman shot herself in the leg to see if committing suicide would hurt. Then our PA told me about a man earlier this week that got shot by his dog. It's been a really weird day.

Take care of you and yours.

Loni

The high humidity from the monsoon joined with the hot afternoon temperature and left her bathed in sauna heat under the swamp cooler, forcing her to the ranch to sleep under her grandparents' refrigeration. Finally ending up on the couch, she overslept and woke to the smell of coffee.

And something else from long ago. Loni heard her granddad chanting. His beautiful high voice sent shivers through her as she listened. She heard ringing as he tapped a beat with a spoon against his coffee cup. Then he tapped something else she couldn't identify. Sitting at the kitchen table, he started singing to her a "get up in the morning" song with enough sound effects to wake the banty rooster. Grateful that her grandparents accommodated her turned around hours, she knew it was time for her to get ready for work and her grandparents ready for bed. Loni felt her eyes tear, so thankful for the love and warmth she felt as she took the cup of coffee from her grandma.

Groaning, Loni rubbed the wet out of her eyes and pretended to complain, "Damn, Shiichoo. Don't take long to stay all night at your house."

"Watch that mouth, child. Can't help it if you go to bed three hours before it's time to get up."

Struggling to work her way out of the sinkhole in the couch made by years of butts dropping into it, Loni gratefully sipped the coffee as she stared, unseeing, at the cup until it came into focus. It read, "To err is human; to forgive is not my policy." Loni snorted. It was a cup she had given Shiichoo years ago.

The caffeine jolt moved Loni down the hall to the bathroom. Closing the door, she inspected the tired room. Everything she saw was faded and peeling. Vacated blobs of red and white-striped wallpaper around the wash bowl revealed the original pink paint beneath it. While she peed, she reached with closed eyes for the toilet paper which wasn't there. She opened her eyes and finally found it on a shelf behind her, stacked so high that when she pulled a roll out, the rest toppled all over the floor. Exasperated, she rolled her eyes toward the ceiling only to find Geronimo's stoic portrait looking down at her. Crap.

Rust stains streaked the washbowl, toilet bowl, and bathtub. She pushed aside the yellowed, cracked shower curtain, turned the water to cold, and stepped in, wondering if the cracks she felt on the bottom of her feet were leaking, dry rotting everything underneath. Better fix it, she decided, as soon as she had time. The sour smelling, discolored, lukewarm water was as cold as it was going to get. Maybe she should ask when the water tank was last cleaned. Maybe not. She didn't stay long. No need to bother with a towel. By the time she started dressing, her body was dry.

Dressing seemed impossible. She couldn't get the images of the disgusting things that had crawled into the water tank out of her head. First she put her pants on backwards. Then she forgot about socks. It was a minute before she figured out why her walking boots wouldn't pull on. Her gun belt felt heavier than usual. Hoping things would get better when she got on patrol, she grabbed a piece of fried chicken out of the fridge and headed out the door to her truck.

Climbing in, she heard a bark behind her. "Oops, I forgot Coco!" Rushing back to the sagging screen door, she apologized over and over, "Sorry, sorry, sorry." Coco circled the yard a few times, peed on a dead patch of dried up six week grass, and bounded to the truck. Once in the truck, she waited, motionless as a frozen rabbit, with her nose stuck up against the crack in the passenger window all the way to work.

CHAPTER 10

July 10, 5:42 a.m.

THE RISING SUN finally broke into the endless night. Not a cloud anywhere. It was not long before Loni's arm started to burn from a direct hit from the sun through her open window. "Shit!" She wished for the umpteenth time for a uniform with a long sleeved cotton shirt. Time for more aloe vera on her arm's perpetual burn. She could hear Chief saying, "Good thing you drive at night, girly." Yah, right!

Loni eased her SUV off the road in behind a battered red Mazda with black smoke pouring out of the engine. A teen aged girl dressed in yellow shorts and a skimpy orange halter stormed around the car kicking at the tires, her long, straight blond hair swirling around her head. She was swearing at the top of her lungs, some words Loni had never heard before.

Loni watched as the girl opened the back door to the car and got out a huge purse. She started to pound the car with it, wildly swinging it and bringing it down with a whap. Shrieking, she banged on windows and doors. Getting out of her SUV, Loni leaned against the SUV's fender, waiting. The grin stayed on her face as she considered arresting her for assault and battery. With all the smoke coming out of the hood, the car was probably totaled. When the girl headed for the trunk, Loni decided it was time to stop her. Stepping forward, she held the trunk lid down, forcing the girl to look at her.

"Enough!" Loni held the lid against the girl's pull. "Enough."

The girl sagged as the crazy leached off her face, and she collapsed on the hot earth. She folded her arms across her bare knees and hid her face, sobbing hysterically. Loni left her alone a few minutes while she lifted the hood, making sure there were no flames in the engine. She walked back to the girl and pulled on her arm. "Come on," she said gently. "I'll take you home." Loni helped her into the SUV. Coco licked at her tears as the girl hugged her.

"What's your name?"

"Fairy Mae."

Don't laugh, Loni told herself, don't laugh. "Where do you live?"

"Down behind the seed store," she said in a tiny depressed voice. "I can show you."

Loni handed her a tissue, and Fairy Mae blew her nose. "I don't know what happened. “The girl wiped her eyes. "I spent the night at my girlfriend's. You know the Spencers?"

"Sure. They have one of the farms back there."

"I promised my dad I'd be home before school."

"Do you need to call him?" They were nearing the town, houses starting to fill up both sides of the highway.

"No, thanks. I already did when I left." She shed a few more tears. "I don't know what happened."

"Looks like you ran out of oil. When's the last time you checked the stick?"

"Why should I?" the girl objected. "It came with oil!"

"Silly me. You're right." Loni nodded, trying to stay expressionless. "Whatever was I thinking? Of course it came with oil."

At the girl's house, her father was standing in the driveway. Whey Fairy Mae saw her father, she let out a wail equal to Loni's siren. The big, burly man opened the door and pulled her out. As he enveloped her in a hug, the wail ratcheted up a few more notches. Nodding a solemn goodbye to the father, Loni pulled away and turned a corner before she howled in laughter.

*  *  *

Carrying a large box, Loni struggled awkwardly through the heavy door of the police station and plopped it on Lola's counter.

Lola shook her head, "Don't tell me you found more evidence."

"Nope," Loni replied. "Stuff for my desk."

"Chief left a note for you." Lola handed it to her.

Loni read it with amazement, "Do you know what's in this?"

Lola waved her arm, bracelets jangling. "I can imagine Tully wants you to do his work. Again."

"He wants me to arrest Terrence Willard for assault. Does he still weigh 400 pounds?"

"Yep," Lola said.

Loni read the note again. "Guess I'm screwed, huh."

"Just about." Lola laughed as she studied Loni. "Long night? You’re asleep standing."

"Nights aren't bad. It's the day work that's killing me."

"Which reminds me." Lola opened a drawer and picked up a small paper sack. "Your drugs."

"Hey, thanks." Loni took the sack as she stepped out of Chui's way.

"Fucking bulldyke," he muttered as he walked by.

"Jesus, Chui," Lola said. "Tell us how you really feel!"

Without turning around, Chui flipped Lola the bird.

"I'm sorry," Lola said. "How come Chui hates you so much?"

"Other than I'm Indian and gay? And he's macho Mexican male and thinks you and I have a thing going. Besides that?"

"Besides that," Lola said with a laugh at Loni.

"Oh, what the hell," Loni shrugged. "One day after school, he pulled me into a classroom and tried to rape me. I hurt him getting away. But not bad enough."

"Chui might as well join the Taliban."

"Nah. He was a good Catholic altar boy."

Lola handed Loni a phone message. "I nearly forgot. From Jenny O'Neal. You're supposed to meet her at the Greasy Spoon. Said she was running late." Lola wiggled her eyebrows at Loni. "Two-timing me already?"

"No." Loni grinned, stretching the word out into a full sentence. "Not yet." Lola rolled her eyes at Loni as she picked up her box and walked into the bullpen. She set it on the desk Carl had pointed to and began to pull things out of it. Coco crawled under the desk and went to sleep.

Before long, she had dragons everywhere. Dragon pen and pencil holder. Dragon envelope opener. Dragon stapler. Ends of pencils. She stuck a row of tiny dragons on top of the computer.

Following Loni to the desk, Lola laughed as she picked up a paperweight with a baby dragon climbing out of an egg. "How cute," Lola exclaimed, turning it over in her hand. She sat the paperweight down. "Is there a reason you're into dragons?" She pointed at the rest of the desk.

"It's the whimsy. I love things that make me smile." Loni showed Lola the cup circled with playful purple dragons. "How could you not feel good if you look at this?" She pulled a sack of candy out of the box and poured the cup full of malted balls.

"Cool." Lola grabbed a handful. "My favorites!"

"They were mine too before you took them all." Loni refilled the cup. Pulling another paperweight out of the box, she handed it to Lola. "I brought this one for you." A baby dragon was curled up asleep with its thumb in its mouth.

"I love it! It's so darling! Thank you, thank you." Lola carried the paperweight back to her desk and gently set it down.

"Makes a good weapon, too," Loni said to her back.

The candy cup was joined by a dragon cup filled with dragon pencils, its handle formed into a tail. A calendar and desk mat with dragons crossing the pages now had a home. Loni added a dragon clock and, last but not least, three photos with dragon frames. One with her grandparents, and another with Roanie. Her favorite was Maria with Coco. Loni was finally ready for the task force meeting.

Joining the group, she sat scanning the hostile faces. Chief was absent, and nobody else wanted to be here. She turned to Tully and handed him back the note. "Tully, I don't have time for your crap today."

Tully started to object, but Carl cut him off. "Okay people, let's get started." He stood up. "I'll report first. Tox report says Todd died of ricin mixed with meth, like the three others in Phoenix. He partied up on the Butte at his assistant football coach's house. Found the coach and his wife dead last night."

Loni's head jerked up in astonishment.

Carl continued. "Looks like same poison. Enough meth to feed a factory for days. Also pot, ecstasy, and other unknowns. Could be he's a major dealer, especially to school kids, which is what we need to find out." Carl reeled this information off with no inflection. He lifted his head and nervously pulled on his red tie. He seemed overwhelmed. Carl turned to Loni. "Anything on the lockers at school?"

"Lots of drugs, but none mixed with ricin."

"We'll inform the school of the drugs. Did you find anything in Todd's house?"

"No. It was as clean as it could get."

"We had a report a camp trailer has been seen around that might be a meth lab." Carl's forehead wrinkled in thought. "It was last seen on Harper Road, but I drove out there yesterday and it's not there now. Don't have a license plate number. It's white, square, and small. I need you all to look out for it." In the silence, Carl stared each person in the eye and waited for a response. "This is important, people!" At last he turned to James. "Anything on Rene's plane and flight plans?"

James checked his notes. "CSI went through the plane. Loni pretty much got what was there. I can tell you the drug residue was cocaine, like she said. No meth or ricin. All Rene's flight plans were to larger cities in Southwest states." James looked around, rubbing his face. Loni could hear the scratching of his bristle.

The room stayed quiet. James went on. "On his last flight, he was booked for San Diego, but he never got there. Called in to report he was having problems with stomach flu and was flying back home. He dropped off the radar, but nobody said anything because he showed up a few hours later. You know how that ended." James shuffled some papers and rubbed at his face again. "Anyway, it did give him enough time for a trip across the border."

"Thought you said yesterday he arrived in San Diego?"

James got nasty. "You know what, Carl? I don't think Rene has anything to do with the poisoned meth."

"Somebody must or they wouldn't be shooting at Loni." Carl snarled back. "You got a better idea where to start?"

"Well, I still don't see the connection." James argued.

"Because there was also cocaine at the assistant coach's house and I don't believe in coincidences. How about finding the connection?" James kept his head down as Carl turned to Tully. "I want you to check with State on that notebook."

"Did. They won't release it." Tully leaned back, his chair nearly falling over. Jerking forward, he hit the floor with a loud thunk.

"Damn." Carl said. "Tully —"

"Carl," Loni interrupted. "I made copies. I think the lists in Rene's notebook could be names, banks, and deposit numbers. I've got a copy of it at my desk."

"Give it to Tully." Carl thought a few seconds. "Seems to me Rosie could tell us more. Chui? Anything?"

"She's still not talkin'. Keeps sayin' she doesn't know nothin'."

"Keep at her. Heard any border chatter about a bad meth shipment?"

"Just that it's on the streets in Phoenix. They swear it didn't come over the border."

"Okay. Drive down to the border and talk to them about the cocaine. Maybe cross over into Sonoyta? Make damn sure they aren't responsible for the meth." Carl waited for Chui to nod his head in agreement. "Tully, Rene's wife have anything to add about Rene?"

"Not really. She says she doesn't know anything about the drugs. Never even been in his plane. She hated to fly. Said she attacked Jenny O'Neal at the funeral because she was having an affair with Rene."

"What's the problem?" James interrupted. "Everybody knew that. He did it all the time."

"Apparently he asked for a divorce this time."

"Anything else?" Carl looked around the group.

"Yes," Loni said. "I was up on Montezuma and saw lights for a runway in the distance. It was over east, but I couldn't tell where. Anybody know anything about it?" There was no response.

Carl frowned. "What does that have to do with the case?"

"I don't know yet if it does. Just looking for anything out of place."

"Okay." Carl looked down at his notes. "I want you to call all medical and warn them."

"Lola already did that."

"Just do it, Loni." Carl snapped. "That's it for today then." He ignored her as he walked out.

Loni followed Tully out of the conference room, picked up a folder from her desk, and slipped a paper from it. She caught him as he was walking out the main door and handed him the paper. "The phone numbers from his cell phone are on the back."

Staring at her, Tully wadded the paper up and dropped it at her feet.

Totally disgusted, Loni turned away. Fuck him, she decided. She was tired of trying. Lola had turned the radio on, and the fast Mexican music cheered her up as she did an improvised mariachi step and bounced by Lola's counter back to her desk.

"Where you learn?" Lola asked.

"You sound like my friend, Willie."

"A Pima taught you to dance like that?"

Loni laughed. "No. Willie is always saying 'Where you learn'm!' when he's making fun of me. You know Willie?"

Lola patted Loni's cheek, setting off her bracelets. "He's been through here a time or two."

Loni cringed. "I was afraid of that."

"I think your granddad got him out the last time. Bob, is it?"

Smiling, Loni corrected Lola. "It's Bahb, actually. That's granddad in Papago."

"What's his real name then?"

Shaking her head, Loni admitted, "I don't know. Every time I asked him he would say 'Long as no one knows name I can't be harmed.'"

"Makes sense, I think." Lola sounded unsure.

Loni didn't want to talk about Willie in jail. Or Bahb's faith. "Friend in LA made me learn a bunch of dance steps."

"Oh?" Lola said with a smug expression.

Loni frowned, remembering Maria's natural grace as she laughed at Loni stumbling through the steps.

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Though I do miss dancing sometimes." Loni sighed and asked Lola for the list of medical personnel. "Did everyone reply to your calls?"

"Why?"

"Carl wants me to call them again."

"Why?" Lola repeated.

"You should be asking him. I'm guessing to see if anyone else got sick."

"Tomorrow. I'll get it ready again."

Loni hurried to catch up with Carl. She tried to ask him about interviewing Billy Joe and his friends, but he waved her off. "Chief said he was on it. I don't have any say over that." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Right now our priority is to find out who shot at you and find the meth lab. Forget about the rapes and go home."

*  *  *

It was time to meet Jenny. Wishing she could go to bed instead, Loni switched to her usual casual Western snap-button shirt, Levis, and walking boots. When she got to the Greasy Spoon, Jenny was waiting in a back booth. Loni sat across from her. "Hey."

"I ordered coffee for you. Black?"

"Good," Loni reached for the cup. "Thanks."

"So what have you found?"

"Sorry, Jenny. At this point I have more questions than answers. Can I pick your brain?"

Jenny shrugged, disappointed.

"What do you know about Billy Joe and his friends? Do they use or deal?"

"Sorry." She shook her head, her cat eyes staring at Loni. "I really don't know anything about that crowd beyond the beer bust talk. Why? Do you think they have something to do with the rapes?"

"Would you ask the girls if that group hassles any of them?"

Jenny shrugged. "Does that mean yes?"

Loni ignored Jenny's question. "You knew Rene, right?"

Jenny's face seemed to smooth out and her eyes darkened as she nodded.

"What do you know about Rene's drug trafficking?"

Jenny's eyes widened. "He was trafficking? Really?"

Her surprise seemed genuine. "I found traces in his plane."

Shaking her head, Jenny answered, "I had no idea."

"The word is he wanted a divorce to marry you."

Jenny sat back and guffawed. "That's a good one. Who told you that?"

"His wife."

"Oh, shit." She thought a minute. "He did hit on me a few times, so I told him I was a lesbian and not interested. Come to think of it, that only made him try harder for awhile. But I haven't seen him since summer school started." She looked down at her coffee. "That explains why his wife's so pissed at me." Lifting her head, she brushed her reddish-blond hair off her face and shrugged in apology. "I didn't know." She was quiet another minute. "Loving someone that much. That's so sad."

"You don't believe in love?"

"Would you tell me something?"

"If I can."

"How do you stay a good person when you deal with so much scum?"

Loni had heard the question before. "It's not so bad in small towns. Most people here I deal with are basically good with short time problems. People really don't want trouble."

Jenny snorted. "That's hard to believe."

"Small towns where everybody knows you, people count. In the big city they shoot them, frame it on a perp, and be done with it."

"Oh, bullshit." Jenny pushed out of the booth and stood.

"I kid you not!" Loni got up and dropped a five-dollar bill on the table.

"You ever see anyone do that?"

"Not lately."

"I have a feeling I shouldn't believe a word you say."

Grinning, Loni said, "You never know." Following Jenny, she walked out of the door and down to her truck thinking, Maybe Chui's right. Sometimes it was hard not to roll downhill with the shit.

Loni hadn't learned much from Jenny, but she was a new source. And really cute too. She found herself thinking about Jenny as she drove around doing her chores in town. Her last stop was the post office to mail a package to Maria's nieces.

Standing in line, she realized this was the first time she thought of Maria today. Maybe she was getting better. Nights were always the worst though. The strong smell of garlic yanked Loni out of her reverie. God! She should be used to it by now. She turned toward the smell, noting a man with a long black curly beard and wide, flat-brimmed hat. He was wearing a heavy camouflage coat and baggy pants. Didn't he know it was 102 degrees in the shade? Careful, she told herself. "Hey, where are you from?" Loni said in what she hoped was a friendly voice. "You're going to die in those clothes."

"God! Don't I know it." The man smiled. "We're supposed to be playing war games." He nodded through the window toward a black Hummer with dark windows. "At least, our wives think we are. Truthfully? We're mostly gambling over at the Mayflower Casino until sunrise. Then we go play war until it gets too hot." He unzipped his coat half way down. No undershirt underneath, just his bare, black hairy chest. "Couldn't walk in here like this."

"Okay if I see some I.D.?"

He handed his billfold to Loni, and she wrote his name and description in her notebook. Loni nodded at the package he carried. "Something fragile?"

"I forgot to mail this for the wife this morning.

Loni took it and wrote down the address. "Got a phone number for her?"

He matter-of-factly told her, and she called the number on her cell phone. A woman answered. "Do you know a Robert Teag?"

Loni listened a minute. "Yes, ma'am. He does look a little foolish, but I wouldn't go that far. Says he's your husband."

Another pause and Loni said, "I wouldn't go that far either, ma'am. But I'll tell him." She hung up. "You don't want to know," she said to Robert.

"Guess you can tell, if I was so inclined, she'd be the first one I'd send a bomb to."

"How many times have the cops stopped you?"

"You don't want to know."

Holding the package, Loni called Lola. "This is Loni. What do we do with dangerous materials?"

"What? Like a bomb?"

"Yes."

"Run?"

"Lola! I'm serious!"

"So am I."

"You mean we have no way to handle the stuff?"

"Not that I've heard."

"Okay. I'll get back to you later." Loni hung up and handed the package back.

"You're going to get a heat stroke in that heavy clothing if you don't get out of them soon."

"I feel like I already have," he smiled boyishly. "Still better than the way those paint balls feel when they hit you."

"Learn how to duck."

"Better yet, run."

Loni mailed her packages and nodded to him as she left. She waited until he walked out of the post office, package still in his hand, and watched him get into the passenger side of the Hummer. He hadn't mailed the package, and there weren't any paint splatters on his coat. Loni wrote down the car's license number.

*  *  *

Walking into the kitchen at the ranch, Loni picked up Shiichoo and spun her around as her grandma feebly flapped her arms at Loni. She loved the feel of the dress. Spun cotton. "Where'd you get the new dress? I like the icy green color. Goes with your icy white hair."

"Put me down." Shiichoo wiggled loose. "Stop this foolishness, child, and maybe I'll tell you. First, go get me some eggs. I want to make a Spanish scramble for supper."

"Shiichoo, I'm not climbing those trees and getting stung."

"There are no scorpions in those trees. You know my bantys eat them."

"How come you don't keep real chickens in a coop? Coyotes won't get them there."

"Foxes will. Nothing keeps them out. Not to mention rattlesnakes and Gila monsters after the eggs."

"Oh, yeah. I forgot." Loni stared out the window at the huge salt cedars and saw the vet's pickup. "I didn't notice Tory's pickup before. How long has she been here?"

"Just before you arrived. Go invite her to lunch."

"Okay. Soon as I figure out how to collect the eggs. How about I give Donnie and Kelly a quarter for every egg?"

"Those eggs are so small they aren't even worth a penny."

Loni laughed. "It's worth it to me. Have you seen them around lately?"

"They were playing in the barn. Probably getting in Tory's way."

"Cool." Loni pushed out the squeaky screen door. In the barn she found Tory redressing Flossie's eye as two boys sat on a bale of hay with Willie.

"Need a hand?" Loni smiled at Tory before she carefully approached Flossie on her good side. It was no time to spook her.

"Thanks, but no. Willie's going to hold her for me when I start on her festers."

"Good," Loni said, relieved. "I was sent to collect eggs for supper. Shiichoo said you were to stay and eat with us."

Tory smiled and shrugged before she returned to the eye.

Loni sat down on a bale of hay listening to Willie tell the boys a Pima legend. She had heard it a long time ago when she had taken something of his without asking.

"Long time ago, Coyote steal batch of pinole." Willie stopped to question the boys. "You know pinole?"

"Sure," Donnie said. "It has corn and sweet stuff in it."

Willie knuckled Donnie's head and continued. "Elder Brother chase Coyote up to sky. Coyote, such hurry, spill corn across sky until all gone. Elder Brother so mad, he grab Coyote and throw him into moon. And what Coyotes do at full moon?"

"They look at it?" asked Donnie.

"And what else?"

Kelly said, "I know. I know. They howl at the moon."

"That right. They howl at lost brother. That what happen when you take not yours."

"Oh." Kelly's eyes were big and brown with wonder. "I promise not to do it again."

"Ah," Donnie said. "I'm not Pima, so you can't throw me to the moon."

Willie frowned at him. "You total sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure I'm not Pima." Donnie beat his chest. "Me Papago."

Laughing, Loni jumped into the conversation. "What did they take?"

Willie held up his tomahawk. It was one of his most prized possessions, handed down to him from his father's side. "It was borrowed. Right?"

They both quickly nodded in agreement. Satisfied, Willie smiled.

"Good." Loni walked over to the boys. "Can I take them now? I need their help."

The boys skipped after Loni. One by one, she lifted them up onto the big John Deere tractor. The questions came nonstop. "Where are we going? Why is that tire so big? What does that key do?" Loni grabbed Kelly's hand in time to keep him from turning it.

Holding onto him, she drove around to the salt cedars, stopping under the first one in the driveway. She lifted Donnie up first. He had an ornery glint in his eye that Loni loved but had the round face and gentle nature of the Papago tribe. Loni hoped he would keep his sunny nature.

Kelly was a different story. His angelic smile didn't fool her. Fearless and careless, he couldn't seem to do anything right. Everyone watched him like a hawk to keep him from hurting himself or someone else. "Be careful, Kelly!" Loni lifted him up in the tree branches. "Move very slow or you'll scare them."

Two tiny hens had begun to rock back and forth as they approached. As the two boys climbed around and gathered eggs, the hens pecked at them and squawked complaints. Dodging the sharp beaks and scratching claws, Donnie and Kelly giggled at the hens' antics as they tried to protect their eggs. When they crawled back to give the eggs to Loni, all three of them were laughing. After five eggs, Loni drove them to the next occupied tree.

They skipped the last tree to avoid the rooster. The kids called him Satan, and Loni agreed. He was a mean sonofabitch with a red-head and rust-red body. Bright red feathers curled out of his tail. His four-inch talons made him a menace. He could jump three feet and chase, jump, or fly onto any unsuspecting whatever that came near him. Loni kept warning Bahb that if he didn't trim those talons, she was going to shoot the damned bird, but Bahb kept refusing. "He need for coyotes and foxes. Protect his hens."

Loni wondered if the rooster really could protect anything until she remembered the story a friend told her about a parrot someone gave him. Said he came in a five-foot tall cage. Just leave the door open, he was told. The parrot won't leave. So her friend did. He was watching TV when he noticed his cat stalking the bird. When the cat was a few feet away, the parrot hopped out and strutted toward the cat. Suddenly the parrot screeched and wildly flapped his wings. The cat took a backwards flip in the air and disappeared. The parrot walked back to his cage going "he, he, he," and climbed back in.

Loni drove the boys back to the barn and gave each one of them a dollar. She told Tory and Willie that lunch was almost ready and walked by Jack on her way to the house He gave a feeble bark, too blind to see her anymore. "Damn." Loni stopped to help him struggle out of his hole before she moved on. "It won't be much longer, old boy, I know. You'll be out of pain." Tearing up, she knew Bahb would have to take Jack out back soon.

As she stuffed the egg basket in the refrigerator, Shiichoo told Loni it was time to learn how to make Indian fry bread. She carefully dictated the ingredients, handing Loni the pots and pans while Loni mixed. Loni sat at the table as her grandma poured them into the skillet.

"Here. Use these dishes." Shiichoo moved her aside. Fussing with each other over which dishes to use, Loni smelled something burning and rushed to the stove, turning the bread. It was black.

"See!" Shiichoo complained. "It doesn't cook right. We can't feed guest burned food."

"Looks great to me." Loni took the bread out of the pan and poured in more batter. "I'll hide the burn inside the roll and use these for my lunch tonight." She dribbled honey in them, rolled them up and stuck some of them into a plastic bag for lunch for her five a.m. stop. She liked to watch the sun rise as she ate.

"Honey makes a mess," Shiichoo said. "You'll be sorry."

Loni patted her grandmother on the cheek as she picked up the plate of fry bread and put it on the table with the rest of Shiichoo's lunch just as Tory and Willie slammed in the back door. Loni grabbed a can of tea and drank, trying not to stare at Tory.

"Call your grandfather," Shiichoo told her.

"Where is he?"

"I don't know. Willie, you seen Bahb?"

"No."

"I did," Tory said. "He was in the tack shack."

Loni started toward the back door noting how familiar Tory seemed with things around the place.

"Don't you dare holler out that door," Shiichoo warned her. "Go fetch him."

"Okay." Loni opened the screen door and stepped off the stoop, closing the door behind her. "Bahb! Lunch!"

"Loni!"

"You said not to holler out the door."

By the time Bahb showed up, everybody else was sitting down and passing food around. Loni filled Bahb's plate, ignoring her grandma's directions.

"Too much egg, Loni. Take some off."

Slopping on another spoonful, Loni laughed at her grandma's fierce stare and turned to Tory. "So, how long before we can put Flossie out to pasture?"

"Maybe next week. She's healing fast." Tory smiled at Shiichoo. "You've taken good care of her."

"Pasture, maybe. She never go back to desert with one eye," Willie said. "Maybe we can turn her into a milk cow." He turned to Bahb. "Maybe Loni can come every morning and night and milk her."

"Maybe she can't," Loni mocked Willie.

After they finished, Loni walked Tory back to her pickup. "I need to move on. I've got two more stops." Tory climbed in and leaned out the window.

"When are you due back to check on Flossie?"

"In a week."

"Good. We can have lunch together again. Maybe dinner sometime?" Loni said cautiously.

Tory admitted to Loni, "I just had a bad breakup so I'm not the best company in the world."

"I lost someone, too. We can commiserate together and drive each other even more miserable."

Laughing, Tory started her pickup. "I don't think that's possible." She kissed the tip of her fingers and pressed them on Loni's lips. Still smiling, she drove away.

It was mid afternoon before she got home. Too tired to undress for bed, she opened the laptop to write a brief message.

FROM: Loni Wagner

TO: Sandi@gmailyahoo.com

DATE: July 10

SUBJECT: Still here

It's been a really crazy day. Or should I say confusing. First I met the interesting woman I told you about for coffee today. Things about her ring my worry bells, but I think I'd like to get to know her better. She's the one who told me about the serial rapist.

But it's the meth/ricin case that worries me. Six dead so far. I don't see any headway. Carl had James cover the same ground with Rene's plane crash that I already covered. He has me calling people who have already been called. He has James following Rene's flight plans to find where he might have made deposits when he ought to be looking in Rene's notebook. I think that one bothers me the most.

Then there are the lights I saw on an airstrip that no one knows anything about. And the missing trailer house that might be a meth lab which is where I think we should be focused. Tully doesn't do much of anything.

And Chui is something else. Last Coyote I caught had Chui's phone number on him. What's up with that? I would like to believe he's working undercover, but I don't. See? My ramblings are as confused as I am. Still, thank you for being my new sounding board. One of the many things I miss about Maria.

Take care of you and yours.

Loni

Loni changed into a tank top and shorts and went to bed. When she heard banging on the loft door, she woke up in a sweat and pulled herself out of bed. "It's me," she heard Daniel yell. Coco had gone into a frantic barking dance, and she had trouble opening the door.

"I need something to drink," Daniel announced, pushing by her to open the refrigerator. "It's a damned oven down there." Loni could hear him rummaging through the bottles on the shelves. "No beer? How can you not have any beer?"

"You forgot, Daniel. I don't drink."

"When did that start?"

"I never drank."

"You're kidding. What about the plane rides?"

"I wouldn't go up, remember?" Loni shuddered.

"Oh, yeah. You were a chicken shit about planes. So what's that got to do with not drinking a beer at the end of a hot day?"

"I got sun tea."

"How about I bring some beer and store it here? You gonna drink it?"

"Fuck you, Daniel." She climbed back in bed.

He grabbed one of the frozen cans of tea and left her to go back to sleep.

CHAPTER 11

July 11, 5:30 a.m.

DAWN BROUGHT BACK the relentless sun. Loni's shift was quiet until Bobby's voice echoed around the inside of her SUV, banging on her ears. Sometimes she hated his voice. She was never prepared for the terror out there.

"One car rollover on Arling Road, where the hills are."

"You mean Gillium Dam area?"

"Yep. On the north side right at the last curve. Or is it the first? Where are you, anyway?"

"I'm on the Old Miner Road at the Cosmos rest stop. I'll be on the scene in fifteen. Any fatalities?"

"Don't think so. One person. Caller said he didn't appear hurt bad. Looked like a pin cushion, though." Pin cushion?

Scanning for landmarks as she sped along the road, Loni remembered her grandma wrote her that a farmer had plowed under the two huge piles of Indian trash left from centuries of camping on the river. She felt ill as she drove by the field. All that history destroyed for cotton farming.

Slowing down for the crossing on the dam's apron, she saw Gillium Dam looming over her. A dirt dam with a small lake below created by a massive amount of dirt dug out, it no longer backed up any water. The bottom had long ago filled in with silt from the nine major rivers that merged there and dropped over on its way to the Colorado River. The remaining water was diverted to a canal. Loni drove over it as the SUV climbed out of the river bottom.

Cresting the first hill, Loni saw a red sports car on its side on the edge of a cholla patch. She pulled up and looked around, spotting a man leaning against a palo verde tree. Walking up, she said, "Well shit, Phillip. How many totaled cars does this make? Five?"

"Nine. You missed a few while you were gone." Bloody scratches and red blotches covered his pale white shirtless body. She watched him pull another needle out of his arm before he continued, "I was trying to pass on a curve, and that asshole in the pickup over there wouldn't let me by. Look at that." He grimaced in pain. "Shot straight out there and rolled seven times."

Loni focused on a heavily tanned, muscled man with crossed arms glowering back at her as he leaned against a black pickup. "He's young, so he's got an excuse for being stupid. What's yours?"

Phillip shook his head at Loni in disgust. "Haven't you got any tweezers? Help me out here."

Loni watched him pull out another needle with a beat up pair of pliers. "Hell, Phillip." Loni shook out tweezers from a flat First Aid can in her pocket and handed them to him. "I'm beginning to think you've got a death wish."

"Nah. It's just testosterone overload. I wouldn't back off, and neither would he."

Loni found a flat rock to knock cholla balls from his Levis before they wiggled into his legs. "Lucky you're wearing boots." She scraped off the balls. "This is the second time this week I've spent my time pulling out needles. Had a cow in a patch. Thought about shooting her."

Phillip snorted. "Leave that gun in your holster and get those balls off me."

"Just a thought." Loni laughed at him. "How do you feel? Want me to call the ambulance?"

He shook his head. "My ribs are really sore, but they're probably not broken. And I don't have any insurance." The diagonal bruise from the seatbelt strap across his chest was already deepening in color. "Look at that."

"Yep. Damned thing saved your sorry ass."

"Well, fuck you too."

Grinning, Loni used his pliers to pull a group of needles out of his Levis. "I can give you a ride home, but, thanks to you, I'll be here awhile."

Phillip looked around. Nodding toward the pickup driver, his face twisted into an ornery expression. "Think I'll have him take me home. Conversation should be entertaining."

"I need to talk to him."

"Wasn't his fault."

"He could have gotten you killed."

"Coulda. Woulda." Phillip shrugged and worked his way up onto his feet. He carefully walked over to the pickup driver and stuck out his hand. "No hard feelings?"

Relief obvious on the driver's young face, he shook Phillip's hand. "No hard feelings."

"How about a ride home, then?"

"Why not."

Loni turned away from Phillip as he waved goodbye and moved along the gawkers. As she waited for the tow truck, she answered questions. "Yes, he walked away fine." "Hell if I know how he did it." "He caught a ride home." "Yes, he's fine." In between, she took pictures and measured. She was ready to leave by the time the tow truck rolled up.

As Loni wound her way through river bottom farms, she left the rocky hills behind. Along the edge of the river bottom, she looked over at the wide border drainage system for wicking the alkali from the soil. She drove by a little shed the size of a dog house that housed one of the half dozen water pumps that ran nonstop to drop the water table in the valley bottom, keeping thousands of acres of farmland from getting too saturated to farm.

She thought about the times she rode Roanie through the white salt patches along the river, pretending it was snow. She was nineteen before she saw real snow on a ski trip up to San Francisco Peak. She chuckled at the memory. It took her three hours to finally admit she couldn't keep skis on in cowboy boots.

*  *  *

Sighing with relief, Loni signed out, grateful there was no task force meeting on Sunday. She had a few hours before Todd's funeral. She hadn't been in the new Mormon temple before and hoped she wouldn't be back again for a very long time. Funerals were not one of her favorite things.

*  *  *

Pushing open the white double doors, Loni walked in. Large blocks of light reflected off the white walls from the tall windows and skylights. She stood in the back of the room, scanning the crowd. Rebecca had her arm around Jenny, who was crying. The young man Loni had seen with Jenny was on her other side, holding her hand. Loni sat in the last row, hoping to catch some conversation, but got caught up in beautiful and painful service. Loni wiped away a few tears, hurting for Todd's family.

As Loni walked out the door, Jenny grabbed her sleeve. "This is my brother, Steve." Loni shook his hand. She was more convinced than ever that he was a meth head. Did Jenny know? "Coffee?"

"Sure," Loni answered.

"Starbucks?"

"Fine."

As Loni turned to speak to Rebecca, she was startled by the pure hatred reflected back at her. What was that all about?

Finding her truck in the large parking lot, Loni climbed in and sat with the engine running to keep the refrigeration working as she waited to exit. Rebecca walked by and sneered. "Move that filthy thing."

Loni inspected her truck. It was a 1994 Silverado with a raised chassis and oversized tires. At one time it had been green. At least that's what Maria told her. Mostly it was covered with gray patches from fender benders and dirt from the desert. Maria had bought it from a distant cousin who liked to challenge rocky hills and gullies. In spite of its rough treatment, it didn’t have that much mileage. Maria was afraid to drive it very far. Loni drove to Starbucks thinking her truck looked a tad silly stuck up in the air so high. But she really didn't care. It had been Maria's.

A cup of black coffee waited for Loni when she walked up to the tall black round table and tall matching stools. Loni hated bar stools, especially wobbly ones. She thanked Jenny for the coffee before she grabbed both sides of the quivering round table and carefully climbed up on a bar stool.

Jenny smiled at Loni's cautious approach. "Good thing these cups have lids. Little insecure, are we?"

"Oh, no, I always sit like this."

Jenny laughed. "You can let go of the table. You're not going to fall off."

"Just shows how little you know me."

Jenny leaned forward. "Well, we could remedy that."

Loni let go of the table fast. "So is this like a date?"

"Do you want it to be?"

Unsure of where Jenny was heading, Loni said, "I think Rebecca might object."

"She's just a friend."

"Sure she wouldn't like to be more?"

"Probably." Jenny shrugged. "She's not my type."

"Can you tell me a little about her?"

"Like what?"

"I saw her take off flying the other day. Does she know a lot about planes?"

"I guess. She said her dad used to own a small airport and flew charters until he gambled it away. She had helped him overhaul planes as soon as she could walk. Said flying was the only time she felt free and happy."

Loni sipped her coffee as she thought about that. "Okay. So is this a meeting? You got a subject?"

The playful gleam faded from Jenny's cat eyes as her smile disappeared. "I had a visitor last night. The party that killed Todd? One of my students was raped there."

"Ah, shit. It just keeps coming."

Head down, Jenny stared into her coffee cup as she pulled on the gold chain around her neck. "I know what she's going through."

Is she confessing? Loni wondered. "I'm sorry?"

Jenny looked up at Loni and, pushing her long amber hair out of her face, repeated, "I said I know exactly what she's going through."

"I'm sorry." Loni reached over and took Jenny's hand. "How is she doing?"

"Not good. It's devastating, especially if you're a virgin."

Pulling back her hand, Loni waited a beat. "Have you noticed that the rape victims are all young Chicanas?"

"Yes." Jenny paused a minute. "But why pick on Chicanas?"

"Guess that's something we need to find out."

"Word is you were some hotshot detective in LA. What are you doing back here?"

"How come everybody is asking me that? Is it so bad around here?"

"Let me think. We have one laundromat with three washer/dryers, one general store with no taste, one serve-yourself gas station, one drug store, one clothing store with nothing but snap shirts, Levis, and boots...."

"Okay," Loni interrupted, laughing. "I get it. But I could ask you the same thing."

"I wanted to be with my dad and brother. And you?"

"I don't have a dad or brother."

Jenny swatted at Loni. "Let me ask that question in a different way. Why did you leave in the first place?"

"I was tired of being called a breed."

Jenny's mouth dropped. "You're kidding?"

"Other kids wouldn't even be seen in public with me. I didn't want to be alone anymore."

A flash of pain crossed Jenny's face. "God! I'm sorry. I've taught this age level for years, but I forget how cruel they can be." She leaned on her hand and stared at Loni. "So how about now? Anybody interesting around here?"

Loni ignored the question. "Can you tell me what the girl remembers?"

Jenny took a drink of her coffee before she answered. "She thinks it was Billy Joe who gave her the drug. She remembers a bedroom, the assistant coach, Billy Joe, and one of his friends, but it's all mixed up in her head. So much is blank. She woke up on her porch at home in pain, with dried blood on her legs and no panties." Jenny paused, swallowing hard. "She's a good Catholic girl who was a virgin and proud of it. Her gift to her husband. This broke her heart."

"Think she would talk to me?"

"I don't know. She went to the party with friends because she liked this boy, but he wasn't there. She was heading home when Billy Joe offered to give her a ride home in his fancy sports car. He gave her a Coke before they left."

Loni speculated, "Wonder if he gave her a date rape drug."

"She doesn't know what to do. It's too late for a rape kit. She couldn't get the morning-after pill. The pharmacist's really nasty. A  Right-to-Lifer."

"It's against the law to deny anyone the morning-after pill."

"Tell that to him," Jenny said heatedly.

"I will. He has a right to believe in whatever. He just can't act on it."

"You're a  Right-to-Lifer?" Jenny’s voice rose in amazement.

"What I believe doesn't matter. It's the law."

"All laws are good?"

"Usually. Crime rate in the nineties dropped big time among the young. One theory was that abortion was so available in the two decades before that the criminals were never born."

Jenny sat back and coolly stared at Loni. "That's such a cold way to view the world."

"Probably, but in the real world, I don't think the universe really gives a shit about any of us."

"Then who does care?"

Loni sat quietly a minute and rubbed her eyes. "My first year in the police academy, I had a real chip on my shoulder. My self defense instructor finally got tired of me and said, 'You know what, kid? Don't expect your troubles to end with a new day. Don't expect a picture perfect life. And don't ever, ever expect a just world. All that matters in the end,' he said, 'is helping each other avoid as much pain as possible.'"

Jenny sighed and climbed down from her stool. "My brain hurts."

"I'm sorry I don't have any answers," Loni replied, climbing off after her. "I'll let you know if I find anything." She watched Jenny walk out of the espresso shop, wondering what she really thought. Loni also wondered if she was ready for anything more or just wanted to flirt a little.

*  *  *

Shiichoo had already started the stew. The minute Loni stepped into the kitchen, her grandma handed her the open recipe book, and Loni read her grandmother's beautiful cursive script. "Boil corn," she read. "Put cornhusks in hot water, mix cornmeal in hot water." She read on silently for a few minutes. Finally she put the book down on the counter. "Wouldn't it be easier to make cornbread?"

"Just do it. Good practice for making tamales."

"Oh, in that case..."

Shiichoo smirked. "Every time I make them, the next day they're all gone. You're not feeding them to Flossie, are you?"

Ignoring her grandmother's jab, Loni plopped corn husks into the skillet and softened them.

She was taking the husks out of the pan when Bahb walked in with pipe wrenches, screwdrivers, and a crowbar. She saw him out of the corner of her eyes and jumped.

"I swear, Bahb. You scare me to death sometimes, you are so quiet. I can't even feel your essence."

"That because you not know my name."

"Oh, barf."

"Oh, barf? What that?"

Loni changed the subject, knowing she couldn't win this one. "What are you two doing?"

"Taking stove apart," Bahb answered, walking over to the old wood cook stove.

"And do what with it?"

"Put in barn for now. Maybe sell later."

"No, no, no," Loni and Shiichoo said together. "The stove stays."

"What?" Bahb said. "You no say that."

"I just can't let it go." Shiichoo was almost in tears.

Bahb hugged her. "Stove stay."

Just as they finished eating Loni's meal, she saw a flash of lightning through the kitchen window. "Willie and I saw ants uphill Monday," Loni told Shiichoo. "Gonna rain today."

Shiichoo jumped up from the table. "Why didn't you tell me? My wash is on the line." She rushed out of the house with Loni right behind her. They threw the clothes into a basket as the wind began to kick up. Loni took a long, deep breath and smelled rain in the air.

Shiichoo poked her. "You'll be sleeping on gritty sheets if you don't help. It's here."

"Dish'ah." Loni grabbed a group of towels off the line and ran into the house behind Shiichoo just as a few sprinkles started. Suddenly, torrential rain came sideways with the wind blowing anything that was loose or clanging anything poorly attached until it came loose. The tin roof sounded as if it was coming off in layers.

In a few minutes the downpour was over, leaving behind a glorious clean smell of wet greasewood brush that permeated everything. Loni walked into the desert, loving the feel of the cool breeze on her skin. She listened to the birds sing as they came out of their nests to bathe in small water puddles, especially the quail with their scurry feet and topnotch feathers bobbing up and down as they ran. She heard a white wing close by with that soft COO COOO three times repeated.

Loni collected Coco and got into her truck to drive home. The truck was even dirtier than she thought possible. Days of accumulated dust turned into mud. The boiling sun had melted the rubber off the windshield wipers, and the broken pieces fell off the blades in strips, creating streaks of dark brown goo. The water in the windshield reservoir was empty. She drove slowly back to the loft with her head out her window, nearly blind. Tomorrow, I'll clean it tomorrow.

FROM: Loni Wagner

TO: Sandi@gmailyahoo.com

DATE: July 11

SUBJECT: Folks

Today had strange ups and downs. A friend rolled his car into a cholla patch and he looked like a pin cushion. He wasn't bad hurt, but he really looked funny. Then I had to go to a teenager's funeral. And I found out that another teenage girl was raped.

The rains have started, which means the six week grass on the desert will get green and the humidity will be unbearable and the water coolers will be useless. It's time to put a refrigeration unit in my window.

Give the girls big hugs for me. I really miss all of you, and belonging to a big noisy family. I don't have that here. I sent the kids puzzles. Clerk said they were good for improving math skills. Not a whole lot to choose from here so I hope they like them. The clerk said she thought there might be more coming in next Thursday's truck. What hurts me most right now is that Maria isn't there to watch her nieces grow. But then, I guess I'm not either.

Love to you et al.

Loni

She went to blessed bed to escape her painful memories. Finally, she slept fitfully in the warm, humid air from the water cooler.

CHAPTER 12

July 12, 1:00 a.m.

BAHB SAT AT THE kitchen table with Shiichoo and Willie while Loni passed around bowls of strawberry shortcake. She loved watching her granddad's eyes light up. Strawberry shortcake was his favorite, and she figured she needed all the help she could get with the next job she needed to finish. As the quiet settled around the clanging spoons on dishes, Loni knew it was time. "I need to talk to all of you about something," she blurted out. "My bosses like us to talk to our families in case something happens to us, you know?" Loni squirmed in front of the six dark eyes. "My end of life directive says if I'm brain dead or terminally ill, I don't want any heroic action taken. In other words, don't keep me alive," she insisted. "Understand?"

They all stared at her.

"Come on," Loni begged. "Tell me you agree."

The three gawked at each other and back at her. Finally Bahb spoke. "If you want, okay."

"Good." Loni nodded. "And now I want directives from the three of you."

"What?" Bahb said.

"She want to know how we want to die," Willie explained. He turned back to Loni. "I want same as you."

The other two nodded in agreement.

"Okay. How do you want to be buried? In the olden ways? Well, except for killing a horse. I refuse to do that."

Bahb grinned. "Old Buck not worth killing."

Not certain she agreed, Loni said, "Last question. What do you want buried with you? Shiichoo, tell me."

"I want to be buried in the graveyard out back." She stopped for a minute. "All I want are my weaving sticks. Otherwise do what you want."

"Bahb?"

"Wrap me in blanket from wall and bury under a rock next to Shiichoo."

"A large, flat tombstone do?" Bahb nodded in agreement.

"You won't get into trouble?" Shiichoo sounded worried.

"No. Law only says we have to be buried six feet or deeper to keep animals from smelling us and digging us up."

"That's a special image, child." Shiichoo frowned at her.

"Willie?"

"I want whole bit. Sitting with head pointed south. Bury at night. No stay, just cover and go. Use my ollos to leave pinole and water. Tomahawk placed in my arms." He grinned at Loni. "You cut your hair."

"No, no," Shiichoo objected. "She will not!"

"Part of ritual."

"We're done here." Loni stood, picking up the dishes from the table and washed them in the sink. Grateful she had gotten that much out of them, Loni put off the paperwork until later.

*  *  *

Driving home, Loni knew she had one more job to do before she quit for the day. She pushed Coco into the loft, closing the door on her brown, furry, heartbroken face. God, she was good at guilting, Loni thought as she walked into the searing heat of midday. The high humidity popped sweat all over her body as she ducked her burning eyes against the blazing sun, wondering where she had left her sunglasses this time. The asphalt was so soft, she felt like she was slugging through it before she reached Dorothea's house and knocked on the door.

A small girl opened it. "Mama, somebody's here!"

Dorothea's pissed-off expression blossomed into a smile when she recognized Loni. "You've got news? Or maybe you changed your mind about the two of us?" She opened the door wider and eyed Loni up and down. "Let's go to the kitchen. I baked."

"No thanks. I'm on my way home to get some sleep." Dorothea ignored Loni's response and headed into the kitchen. Loni reluctantly followed her.

"It's quieter in there. We can talk."

Loni stood beside a round, retro 50s Formica kitchen table with bright swirly colors and chrome trim.

Dorothea sat a plate of cookies in front of Loni. "In case you change your mind." Loni ignored it as she watched Dorothea pour a cup of coffee and sit down at the table. She spooned in four sugars and stirred it before she sipped the brown liquid and refocused on Loni.

"Do you have any idea where Larry is?"

Dorothea was disappointed. "You want to see Larry?"

"Yes," Loni said flatly and stared down at her.

"Carl was by yesterday, asking me the same thing. I really don't know." Dorothea took another sip. "Sometimes he went to this private hunting lodge that has a landing strip. Talked about the all night poker games and all the money he won."

"Do you remember where?"

"Montana. Somewhere close to Lincoln, I think." Dorothea said. "I remembered that because of the Unabomber. Larry said his cabin was practically next door."

"Thanks. I'll tell Carl." Loni pulled out a chair and sat. "Did Carl tell you about the three drug deaths from poisoned meth?"

Dorothea ducked her face and drank her coffee. "He talked around it, but he didn't outright say."

"You realize, Dot, that the next kid to die could be one of yours. You really need to talk to me."

Dorothea's head jerked up, and she almost spit coffee on Loni. Her chin quivered as she wiped off her mouth. "Damnit!"

Loni waited, watching Dorothea's face shift expressions.

"I saw Billy Joe build a fire in the barbeque pit out back and burn some plastic stuff. Asked him about it and he said it was salt-something that coach gave him to help in the heat at practice but he didn't want to take it. And that's it." Dorothea was adamant. "That's all I know."

"Okay." Loni decided to move on. "I have another reason for this visit."

"About us?" Dorothea's lips turned up.

Loni shook her head, mortified. "No! I need some hair with a skin tag from Billy Joe."

"Why? What has that little shit done now?" She stood, staring at Loni. "I can give you his hairbrush."

"That would work."

When Dorothea brought back a brush, Loni pulled hairs from the brush and dropped them in an evidence bag. "Thanks." Loni handed the brush back to Dorothea before she sealed and labeled the bag.

"He's quite a preener." Dorothea ran her hand across the soft bristles. "Spends more time in front of the mirror than I do." She grinned at Loni. "Don't say it." She playfully poked at Loni with the brush.

"You look good, Dot. You always did. When I learn more, I'll be back." Loni went out the back way and shoveled ashes from the barbeque pit into a plastic bag. Sealing the bag, she let herself out a side gate and walked back to the hangar.

*  *  *

At the loft, Coco made her usual circles of joy before she rushed outside for a few minutes. Loni made a tuna sandwich before she picked up her grandfather Wagner's diary. She needed something else to think about. Somewhere in her grandfather's notebooks, she saw some references to growing up and going to school. Seeing her home town through her grandparents' eyes might help her feel better about it.

We spent the summers under brush sheds. Ma had a stove, table and benches, and beds all out there. Very little ice and for sure no coolers. The water pump was just in back of the brush shed. You had to keep a toe sack to wrap the handle as it would burn the hide off your hands. There was room also under the shed for a marble game. Marbles were made of clay and weren't too round. We tied sister out on the ruff string of the jackasses just outside the shed. One bucked her off, and she sailed out thru the air like a butterfly, landed on her bottom like a sack of... She rite then hung up her surcingle for all time.

We had a little old mean mare called BoBo. Sis could ride or drive the old buggy more. Her and I made a trip up to the main road and mailbox. Got 100 lb of ice off a freight wagon. Starting back she wanted to hurry home so she hit the old mare with a line. The old mare had been on green feed. She throwed up her tail, backfired green second hand hay all over us and the ice. The dashboard was worn out so no protection. Her with a mini skirt on, Ma had to come out and swab her off as she was too embarrassed to go in to meet company.

Our grandmother Sutton was a half breed Choctaw Indian and half Jewish.

Surprised, Loni stopped reading and stared at the words. My god! Choctaw? James was part Indian? Boy, he would shit!

She stayed with us most all the time and was most necessary as ma was sick so much, lots of kids and sometimes many men to cook for. I can remember holding on to her skirt and sitten' on her lap many hours. I remember she left one time for a spell and I had gotten a mile from home when Mrs. Wish stopped me at the church and asked me where I was going. I told her after my grandma. Was pullen' my wagon which was the only toy you could buy in those days. I was five.

I hurt my thumb bad when I was five. Dr. Rubel had moved into a tent house on the canal bank as he had come down with tuberculosis back east. A remark he made scared me and I broke and ran down the canal bank. Brother Lem overtook me. Before I got back, grandma took over. She dared anyone to hurt or whip me. So Doc just put on some salve and wrapped it and sent us home.

Ma's sister Aunt Betty moved near us. She didn't seem to be too fond of some of us kids and Ma and Pa would leave us there sometimes. We couldn't talk, have a drink of water, and at the table we had to wait for the blessing and Uncle Knoll was way too slow. Around 1918, Aunt Betty knew she had professional daughters. Her son George didn't count and they were barely eeken out some groceries and had a Model T Ford. Uncle Knoll drove it in the barn, took the back wall out with him holleren' whoa. They moved on into northern California where Aunt Betty believed it would be a higher culture for girls that weighed 250 lbs and more. Uncle Knoll soon worked himself into the grave to offer all this for them that turned out common like most of us.

Our closest neighbors were the Newberrys who lived to the north on the main road. Mrs. Newberry's family were all lost when the Walnut Grove dam broke. When she got back from Phoenix she found the family all gone. Old man Newberry had drove in there with his freight wagons going to Fort McDowell. She climbed upon the seat and said wherever you go I guess I'll go also. Sometime later they married, her 15 but big and strong. They homesteaded there, but had a sale and left in 1917.

The Parks and the Newberrys never had a shed or trees to milk their cows under and lived on skim milk and most the kids were doggied, brittle bones that grew crooked. The Parks girls milked the cows while the old man studied the Bible. Their feet grew cooked and had to wear their shoes on the wrong feet. They had to travel in a wide path.

Loni remembered the Parks. She went to school with two of them. Third generation, she decided. They milked cows, but by then they had a barn. She didn't think they had brittle bones either.

We had good horses and grew more and better crops than anyone. Around 1918, we had a combine that took 16 horses to pull. No motor as was ground driven. That's all we farmers had to fix the breaks in the canal.

When I started to school there were around 25 kids. It didn't take many families to be that many kids. The style hadn't come in yet that if you had any kids not to have more than one. They had a hell of a time holding my brother Larse and me in school. It seemed so much a waste of time. I begged them not to send Larse because all they taught was to color and sing and that was about all one frail teacher knew. She lived on sterilized moonbeams. The principal was always called Professor because that was the way he wanted it. That way he didn't have to know much tho why aint that all right? The Wedge kids were many but never helped the enrollment as they took turns going to school. When Sister Gladys would start home, they had to head us off before we got back in the brush and send us back to the head start. The Robins and Edwards boys got their head start when Verde stole a schoolhouse from Arlton and moved it just east of the Verde store.

We got to school and other doins the best way we could. Some of us had to start a little sooner to get there on time. A donkey was always hard to ketch. So you had to start early. Anyone could have a burro if you could ketch him out in the wilds as there were plenty. You better get a young one as the older, the harder to gentle. Later years I've been invited on wild jackass cookouts or cookins. I never went. Not that they weren't good enuff to eat, but we weren't good enuff to eat them.

For one thing, if it hadn't been for the ass the three wise men mite not have ever found Jesus. If you wanted to win a race with a jackass, point him in the direction of home. It's great to know the burro helped Wickenburg and many more find the great gold strikes. I don't know about the Lost Dutchman. (Had to stop and pet my dog, Booger).

Many 4th of July picnics and rodeos were held in the Baxter cottonwood grove. The times made by those ropers, rider, and doggers could go to the pay window today. The corrals were made of cottonwood poles bigger than your leg and higher than your head. There were no score line, just lap and top.

Sometimes there would be a ballgame but if you lost the ball the game would be over as one ball is all they ever had. There was no golf but lots of cow pasture pool if you could find a dry one, fresh wouldn't do. You'd see who with a stick could knock a cow pile into a tub six foot off. If you had a flower garden and brot your own tub, you could take your winnins home. There were sack races if you had a sack, and marble games of you had the marbles. Many games for first prize you got a red soda pop.

We walked up the Bruner corner once to watch a road race from LA to Phoenix. Barney Oatfield was an hour in the lead. We didn't drive a horse and buggy up there for fear the racer, a stripped down looking car, would spook the poor horse to death as they would almost spook us kids. Not long before that was the first car we ever saw and it scared brother Larse so bad when he heard and saw it he ran across the yard and grabbed sister, drug her in the house and under the bed. After he got older and wanted to drive the car, Pa used to say he wished he'd always stayed that scared. I guess I didn't have sense enuff to be that scared as I held my ground.

A mile east of our school was a landmark. Grant Millege had a threshing machine pulled with a steam engine and threshed some around the country. Rube Woody had one and later sold it to Bill Duser. I sometimes hauled coal to the steam engine for Bill. Fred hauled water and Patrick run the engine and blowed the whistle. At the Millege corner Dad Kynart had a blacksmith shop. He'd sharpen your plow share, forge weld any iron you had and shoe the raunchiest horse or mule there were. Dad Kynart later moved down just west of the school with his shop and spent the rest of his days there. His anvil rings no more.

FROM: Loni Wagner

TO: Sandi@gmailyahoo.com

DATE: July 12

SUBJECT: Still here

I spent some time trying to get End of Life directives from my grandparents. I think I'm growing up. I am finally beginning to appreciate and understand how they left everybody they knew to live in a white man's world and raise somebody who came home every day from school angry and miserable. They sacrificed a lot to raise me. Maybe it's just as well I didn't know about their pain. I'm not sure I could have survived both mine and theirs during those years. I'm having a hard time with it now. They spent their lives away from friends and family to take care of me and the ranch. I'm really trying now to give something back.

I've also been reading my father's parents' history. The difference in how we all grew up in the same general area is amazing. Like Shiichoo says, though, when you're grateful, you can't be unhappy, so just think on that. I'm working on it.

Please take care of you and yours.

Love, Loni

She climbed into bed. Rolling over, she pushed Coco out of her way and went to sleep.

CHAPTER 13

July 13, 7:22 a.m.

LONI WAS JUST IN TIME for breakfast. She dropped into a chair and leaned back, watching her grandma cook. "How do you get rid of the thorns without your wood stove?" She watched her grandma dice the prickly pear pads.

"Willie singes them outside." Shiichoo shook the cut cubes into a pan half full of boiling water. "About the only thing I miss anymore cooking on that wood stove. Can't singe on these burners."

Loni ducked down to hide her smile.

"Don't you say anything!" her grandma retorted, slapping her across the back of her head with the towel.

"Whatcha cooking?"

"Nopalitos," Shiichoo answered as she reached for a fry pan. She sat it on a burner and splashed in olive oil. "Bring me the chilies."

Loni struggled up out of the chair. "How many?"

"How hot you want it?" Shiichoo replied as she quickly chopped an onion.

"Without the seeds?" Loni handed her ten and watched her chop them without cleaning out the seeds.

"Good for your digestion," her grandma said.

"Not worried about my digestion, thank you. I'm worried about my mouth."

Drying her hands on her faded rainbow apron, Shiichoo shook a little salt and pepper in the fry pan. "Get me eight eggs and go tell your grandpa and Willie breakfast is on."

Loni didn't move.

"Now," her grandma insisted.

"Oy. Dish'ah."

"No. Not later. Now!" she insisted again.

Loni struggled out of the chair, got the eggs, and sat them on the counter. She opened the screen door and hollered, "Bahb! Willie!"

"Nice."

Loni laughed at her grandma's sarcasm as she stepped out onto the screen porch and broke off a large chunk of aloe vera.

"You take too much leaves and desecrate that plant." Bahb said.

"You mean decimate."

"No. I mean desecrate. It has good spirit."

"Right now, it's all about my spirit," Loni groaned.

"Told you again to wear hat."

"That's not what hurts."

"Still need hat."

"I never did before," Loni said weakly.

"Yi. But you tougher then."

"Bull crap."

Loni laughed at Bahb shaking his head at her as he banged back into the kitchen. She took a ziplock bag out of a drawer next to the wood stove. Dropping the leaves in, she slipped the bag in her shirt pocket and sat down. "It's to rub on my driving arm when the sun burns it later." She explained to Shiichoo, who gave her a skinny look. "Can't drive around all the time with your stinky salve, Shiichoo."

Ignoring her, Shiichoo drained the prickly pear pods and returned them to the fry pan. She quickly stirred in the eggs, whipping until they cooked. Adding pan fried bread to a brown porcelain plate, she spooned on a heap of nopalitos and handed the plate to Loni.

 It felt good to be with family. "Tell me about your folks. Did you ever get to visit them?"

"The school knew we were scared and lonely. If we went home, our folks would hide us out, and we would never go back." Shiichoo sighed. She filled a plate for Willie, who was washing his hands and face in the kitchen sink. "They were right." Setting the plate on the table, she filled one for herself. "I had a favorite older brother they never did find."

"What happened to him?"

"Last I heard he went to the Oklahoma oil fields. He was only thirteen last I saw him, but big for his age. Cherokees taught him enough English so that he got by. Married a Cherokee."

"Do you know what happened to your folks? How they died?"

Shiichoo shrugged. "Families around there said they got caught in an ice storm. Everything was lost."

"Jesus, that's some kind of hurt."

Shiichoo handed her a bar of soap and pointed at her mouth. Pushing Shiichoo away, she found that laughter kept her tears at bay. She turned to watch Bahb wash his hands. He had been repairing fences and his light blue work shirt had streaks of sweat down the back. "Hey, Bahb? How long were you at the Indian School?"

Sitting back down at the table he turned to her with sad brown eyes. "Forever. Truly a prison."

"I felt unsafe until your grandfather came," Shiichoo added. "So many of the girls were abused by the older boys and male teachers. But your grandfather protected me. I don't think I would have survived without him."

As Shiichoo drifted into sad, Bahb said, "Remember basketball team?"

She smiled back. "You mean the team famous for losing every game?"

Bahb turned to Loni. "I on team. I tall Indian. But we all from different tribes who were enemies so nobody speak to other."

Shiichoo explained. "They also spoke many different languages."

"I remember this story. Didn't you know any English?"

"Little. Fifteen when caught. Still, hard to be team player with enemy."

"They tied them to the goal posts if they spoke anything but English." Shiichoo patted Bahb's arm as she sat his plate in front of him.

"Court outside in sun, too. But your grandma taught me fast."

Shiichoo smiled at him. "They had never played basketball before either. I wonder if that's why you had a new coach every few weeks?"

Loni laughed. "That would be it for me."

*  *  *

After breakfast, Loni cleaned up while her grandmother gathered a pile of corn, pots, and pans. "Good lord, Shiichoo! You got the Sell Village moving in?"

"Nope." Her grandma frowned at her. "Making enough green corn tamales so maybe you'll leave me some."

"Don't count on it," Loni snickered.

"That's today's cooking lesson. Maybe you will cook some and bring them to me."

"Hah! You're so funny. Besides, tamales are Mexican."

"Child! Who do you think taught the Mexicans to cook?"

"Well, I'm not sure Mexicans would agree with you. I always heard green corn tamales were started in Globe by the Borquez family."

"Just start hulling and cutting the kernels off that corn." Shiichoo swatted at her and pointed at the pile.

*  *  *

Loni drove into the hangar before noon, carefully hiding her two dozen tamales from Daniel. He had a habit of raiding her refrigerator, and she had seen him eat a dozen in minutes. Loni settled in and called ranchers between Caliente and the border, asking them to call her if they saw any recent signs of travel. "Please," she asked each of them, "be sure to call me on my cell phone."

Loni ate four tamales for supper in between calls. Worn out, Loni had energy for only a short email to Sandi before she crashed.

FROM: Loni Wagner

TO: Sandi@gmailyahoo.com

DATE: July 13

SUBJECT: Still here

Had a great day with my grandparents, even if I did work my ass off. You know how I don't love to cook! Having family and being with them helps me not miss Maria so much.

Still miss all of you.

Loni

A ringing penetrated Loni's fog, and she fumbled for her phone. "Yes?"

"Loni?"

"I think so. Let me check."

"Sorry?"

Shit, it wasn't Lola. "Hey. I thought you were someone else."

"This is Jenny."

"Of course. What's up?"

"One of my students is here. She was raped tonight."

"Give me your address," Loni woke up fast and grabbed a pen. It was in a development built east of town about the time she left. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

Loni jumped into her uniform and called Harris. "Gotta rape victim. Tell Bobby I'll be late."

*  *  *

A cute Mexican girl with a torn, bright red tank top under her white shirt was in tears when Jenny let Loni in. Blood was caked down the insides of her legs. Loni took Jenny aside and whispered, "What's her name?"

"Carmen Gomez."

"Why isn't she at the clinic?"

"She won't go," Jenny whispered back.

"Maybe we can talk her into it," Loni replied. Sitting beside the girl, she started the conversation in Spanish. "Carmen, mi nombre es Loni. Te acuerdas de nada?"

The girl shook her head and continued to cry.

Loni gently brushed the hair away from Carmen's eyes and looked up at Jenny. "She doesn't remember anything. Did she tell you anything?"

Jenny shook her head.

"Could you get some Kleenex for her?" Loni turned back to Carmen. "I have a friend at the clinic...."

"No! No! No!" Carmen shook her head violently.

"You could get a disease. Or get pregnant and need a pill."

Carmen sobbed. "They'll find me there."

"No. I'll be with you."

"I'll be there, too," Jenny reassured her.

The only sound was Carmen's sobbing.

"Can we take you someplace?" Loni asked her.

"My aunt," Carmen whispered.

Loni drove Carmen to a small wooden house behind the Catholic church. Opening the truck door, the woman reached for Carmen and enveloped her while the girl sobbed. Loni followed the two through the dark into the warmth of the house, waiting for a moment to talk to the aunt. "I need her clothes."

The aunt nodded, and the two of them walked out of the room. She returned and handed Loni a paper bag.

*  *  *

As Loni headed for work, she saw a dark car behind her. Get paranoid much? She thought maybe nothing, but on the other hand... Loni turned into a driveway and watched in her rearview mirror as the car sped by. She quickly backed out, but the car had turned the corner and disappeared by the time she got there. She forced herself to drive slowly to the station.

CHAPTER 14

July 14, 4:00 a.m.

JUST BEFORE DAWN, Loni found herself talking to Coco as they parked on the side of the road, hidden by a curve where the road wound around Mariner Peak, a good place to pick up speeders and drunks. A short passing lane pushed drivers to speed up trying to pass cars, and they didn't slow down after they got past. She combed her fingers through the wavy wool on Coco's long ears. "You could help me stay awake!" Coco stared straight ahead, her eyes drooping shut.

An hour later, an ancient truck slowly meandered by her. Here we go, she thought. She pulled in behind the truck and followed it for a mile, watching it cross the center line and jerk back, tires singing on the white edge stripe before it crossed back toward the center line. No license plate. She hit the siren.

The truck hiccupped to a stop in the middle of the road. Loni pulled in behind, leaving her flashing lights and headlights on. She sat as a hulk of a man struggled with the pickup's door and fell out, hanging onto the swinging door. She hoped he wasn't a mean drunk. "Coco, come." Loni motioned for her to follow. The curly brown dog was close behind her as they walked up and waited for the drunk to struggle onto his feet.

Shining her flashlight in his face, Loni recognized Charles Baker. Longtime rancher on a small place that barely made it, he did a little rustling of unbranded calves and milked a few of his own cows. The flat crown on his hat came from leaning into the cow's side. He had a grunge look without trying and smelled as if he drank the entire bar. As he let go of the door, he waved his arms wildly, trying to stay upright on wobbly legs. He was headed in the wrong direction from home but probably too drunk to know it.

Turning off her flashlight, Loni kept her distance as they stood in the light of her SUV. "Hey, Charles, how's it going?" Age had etched deep creases into his long face, and too many bar fights had left him with a bumpy, crooked nose. She guessed his beard at about five days. He was fatter than she remembered, but he had kept the gander attitude of a cocky bully. Bare footed, he wore a holey undershirt under faded overalls. Even at five-foot-ten, Loni had to tilt up a long way to see his face.

"Did you see that sombitch that was driving?" He waved his arm, vaguely pointing into the desert. "He jumped out and ran. Why ain't you chasing him?"

"Well, hell, I heard that one before, Charles."

"Well!" he slurred. "It weren't me driving." He tried to lean on the truck and fell flat on his face.

Oh, shit. Trying not to touch too much of him, Loni helped him back on his feet and shoved him into the back of her SUV. Forcing herself back to his truck, she took a deep breath and climbed in, leaving the door open for fresh air. The smell, a mix of grease and cow barn, was one she had grown up with. She drove his truck to the side of the road and parked, hoping he would still have his tools when someone came to fetch it. "Hey, want me to call anyone to come get your truck?"

He just kept shouting, "You lettin' him git away! Where you going?"

Loni didn't answer.

"I got cows to milk and kids to feed."

"Oh, shut up. Your kids milk the cows." After that comment, Loni ignored him. By the time they got to the jail, he was asleep.

"Take your hat off," she snapped at him as she pushed him into the station.

Badly in need of a haircut, strips of his salt and pepper hair crossed each other in long greasy spikes. She thought about telling him to put his hat back on. "Looky here what I brought you, Bobby."

"Well gosh, oh darn, Loni. I'm so overjoyed I'll just pull on my suspenders and shoot straight up."

Laughing, she helped him book Charles. All the way into lockup he moaned and bitched about somebody else driving.

"He got away with that the last time he was picked up." Bobby's sardonic expression said it all. "Guess he's decided to try it again."

"Think the judge will buy it again?"

"Would you?"

Loni laughed all the way back to her SUV.

*  *  *

Back on Old Highway 85, she pointed the SUV toward the border through the desert plateau dark. She was sitting at her favorite speed trap upwind from the Oasis Bar, drinking her last cup of coffee, when Bobby's voice broke into her peaceful thoughts.

"Got a home disturbance, Loni. Woman. Said she brought a guy home and when she woke up to go to work at the Whistle Stop, her purse and car was gone."

"Car description?"

"Greenish to grayish to bluish. She said it depended on time of day. Late model Buick."

"License number?"

"She didn't remember, and her registration was..."

"...In her car," Loni finished for Bobby, laughing.

"Here's her name and address." He reeled it off as Loni wrote it down. "I'll call for the license plate when the Phoenix offices open. Meanwhile, get her statement."

"Don't suppose you could send Tully?"

"Only if I don't want it done this year." Loni heard his laugh as he hung up. She had to admit, he laughed at her a lot.

*  *  *

It was drifting past task force time when she finally got back to the station to sign out. Lola was already on duty with the DNA results from Rene's plane.

"Well, shit! It's a woman. That doesn't make sense." Loni handed Lola the evidence envelope with Billy Joe's hairs. "Got another rape. I think this is the perp's hair. Can you get a priority DNA on it? I really want to pick up this little bastard as soon as I can."

"I'll do my best." Lola sounded upset. "Same MO?"

"Looks like it."

"You got it legal?"

"I'm sure. Dot let me in and gave me the hair. That's his step mom."

"Dorothea Kildare?"

"Yep."

"Didn't you guys have a thing in high school?"

Loni was getting upset. "Who the hell told you that? And no. We didn't have a thing in high school. And before you ask, we're not having a thing now." Loni shrugged as she decided to tease a little. "Not that we couldn't." She grinned at Lola as she gave the desk a knock with her knuckles and followed Tully into the conference room.

Carl turned to Loni before she sat down. "Since you missed yesterday, I'll update you during the reports."

"Sure." Loni opened up her notebook.

"State sent findings from Rene's plane debris. Remember he had removed all the seats from behind the pilot's seat? They found potting soil mixed with drug residue and exotic plant leaves. They think he was delivering drugs with some sort of rare plant shipments he got out of Mexico. He had already dropped them and collected the money when he went down." Carl paused, studying Loni. "I know you think Rene's drugs and the meth are related, but nobody's found it yet." Carl patted Loni on the shoulder reassuringly. "We may have to leave Rene to State and stay with the meth."

"What about who shot at me?"

"Maybe next time he won't miss," Chui blurted out, glowering at Loni.

"Did you ask State if any exotic plants were found anywhere near the meth deaths?" Loni ignored Chui.

"I don’t think anyone checked, but it’s worth a look." Carl turned to Tully. "Call on that."

"And see if they identified the fingerprint yet?" Loni added to Tully's phone call and said sarcastically, "Might help us find my shooter if we knew who killed Rene."

"Looks like somebody got greedy," James said with a worried expression.

"Or is afraid of getting ratted out. I still say it's somebody we already know," Loni added. Everyone stared at her. She knew the shit would hit the fan with that one, but it had to be said.

"Who?" asked James and Tully in unison.

"If I knew, I'd arrest his sorry ass."

"Bullshit!" Chui said, in a nasty voice.

"Chui," Carl interrupted.

"She can't go around accusing one of us, Carl. It ain't right."

"Is that a confession, Chui?" Loni asked, pushing him.

"Chui! Your report!"

"Rosie lawyered up, and somebody must have tipped off the border patrollers I was working with. I can't find them."

"That's what I'm talking about, Chui. Who tipped them?" Loni glared at him as Chui tried to stare her down. He finally dropped his eyes.

"What about their families?" Carl asked.

"They live in Mexico. So far, Mexican police haven't reported."

"Drive down there, Chui. Try to find them." Carl turned to James. "I need you to go to Phoenix and interview the meth dealers. They obviously know who they're buying from. Ask them about exotic plants. Get State to deal."

"Sure, Carl," James agreed as he reached over and took Loni's pen and notebook, writing a note on the bottom of her notes. Daring her to object, he stared at her as he ripped out the page and dropped her notebook in the middle of the table.

Carl turned to Tully. "You keep checking Rene's list. Maybe he's got a meth dealer on it we can pick up. Also get long-distance phone calls to Phoenix. See if anybody here called them. Access anything you need.

"But I've done what I can, Carl."

"Then do it again. Maybe State will give you something. Ask. We need to find a trail to the source." Carl turned back to Loni. "Chief wants you to go check out a report from a rancher. Says he found dead illegals. Thinks they had drugs with them. Find out if the drugs are related to this case. Lola can give you directions."

"Can I ask something here?"

"Yes," Carl cautiously answered.

"The man that was knifed. Didn't he have a cell phone?"

"No." Carl picked up his papers with quick jerks. "That's it for today.

Loni waited for Carl outside. "About the two dead on the butte. Did you get a blood sample from the victims?"

"Yeah. Sent it to the lab already."

"Did you send the drinking glasses with the debris?"

"No. Why?" Carl was curious.

"I think one of them had rohypnol in it. I'd like to know who put it there."

"Interesting."

"Did you send the bed sheets to the lab?"

"No. Why?" Carl asked again.

"Girl claims to have been raped there. Is it okay if I collect the glasses and sheets and send them in?"

"Sure. After your assignment."

Loni looked up to see Chief walk into his office. Seconds later he came roaring out. "Goddammit! Who's the jokester? It ain't funny!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Carl grabbed him as Chief tried to push by. "What's wrong?"

"Somebody robbed me!"

"What do you mean robbed you?"

"What the fuck do you think I mean," Chief spat at him. Loni saw a mix of fear and anger flushing his face. "My god. I'm gonna be the goddamn laughing stock of this town. Do something, Carl!"

"Okay." Carl said calmly. "Tell me what they took."

Chief jerked away to confront Loni. "If you had anything to do with this, your ass is grass!"

Carl focused on Loni, a questioning frown on his face.

Loni shook her head. "I know absolutely nothing. Honest to god!"

Carl turned to Lola. "Anybody been in Chief's office you see?"

"Nobody gets by me. Check graveyard."

"Okay Chief, what's missing?"

Chief kept his eyes on Loni. "My gun. It was on a hook by the door. My taser and keys to the cruiser. They were on my desk."

"Anything else?"

"Ain't that enough?"

"When did you leave your office?" Carl calmly steadied Chief.

"I got here early and went over to Whistle Stop for breakfast."

"Lola, put out a BOLO. Make some calls." Carl moved into Chief's space.

"Why don't we go back and search? Maybe try fingerprinting some areas?" Carl kept talking quietly as he slowly led the loudly protesting Chief back into his office.

Lola covered her broad grin with her hand.

"Maybe you should call the garage. Make sure no one took his cruiser. Time for me to get out of here," Loni said. "I'm in enough trouble."

*  *  *

Trading the SUV for her truck, Loni sped down to Milepost 72 and stopped behind the coroner's SUV. The flashing white-box ambulance was parked in front of it. She left her motor running and the refrigeration on for Coco as she scrambled down into a wash and scrunched her way up to a stand of mesquite trees. Even though Carl told her it was too late to help anyone, she didn't want to keep anyone waiting in this heat. Loni hurried up to the scene. "Find any drugs?"

Both EMTs and Doc Benjamin sadly shook their heads. The bodies were covered. They were waiting for Loni to release the scene.

"How many, Doc?"

"Three adults and two kids this time."

Loni followed the tracks a short way, checking the direction they came from. They must have been carrying the children.

She returned to take her photos and search the victims, the toddler first. Blisters covered his nose and cheeks. Loni looked over at Doc Benjamin leaning back against a mesquite tree. He wore a white cotton shirt with lightweight dark blue pants. His bald head and face were shiny from sweat, and he shook his head as he fanned himself with his wide brimmed hat. "Been dead almost a day," he said. "Most are near full rigor." He looked up with sad eyes. "So close to the highway, but afraid to stop anyone for help."

Nodding for the EMTs to take one of the children, she knelt beside the tarp over two of the adults and uncovered the bodies. The man's shoes were old cut up tires held onto his feet with leather thongs threaded through holes and wrapped around his ankles. They matched the trail she had followed. He had an undershirt on and faded Levis, his head was turned toward her, and his cloudy eyes seemed to stare at her in reproach. Quickly searching him, she found a hand stitched cloth billfold with nine American five-dollar bills and three green cards. "Not very good forgeries," she said, showing them to the doc.

"Bet they spent everything they had to buy them." Doc Benjamin nodded at the money in the billfold. "They didn't have enough to pay a coyote."

Loni walked around to the woman curled up against the man. Dressed for the desert, she wore a large floppy straw hat, full white cotton blouse with long sleeves and a full brown skirt that allowed air to circulate and cool the sweat. She found nothing on her.

"Where are their water jugs and food bags?" Loni checked around.

Doc Benjamin barely shook his head.

Loni released the two bodies to the EMTs and moved to the last body. When she uncovered it, she fell to her knees and stopped breathing. The girl was the spitting image of Maria when Loni met her at the Police Academy ten years earlier.

"Oh god, not again." It seemed a long time before Loni heard a voice in her ear. Someone was shaking her, and she wanted it to stop. An acrid smell of the dead's evacuation hit her nose, jerking her out of a deep hole.

"Are you all right?" she heard Doc Benjamin repeating.

Loni forced herself back into reality and stood up stiffly. She gently pulled the rigid baby from the young woman's arms and waited while the EMTs carried the woman up to the ambulance. Loni and the doc followed them back to the highway.

*  *  *

Loni felt empty all the way back to the loft. After she hugged Coco for awhile and cried in her soft, brown wool, she made herself eat a bowl of vegetable soup while she read more of her grandmother Wagner's notebook.

When old man Reed hung up his spurs and moved to town, he turned his two pet saddle horses loose on the desert. With feed and water and their old familiar stomping ground, it would seem horse heaven for the two old pals. They weren't entirely happy. They missed people, petting, and the old gunny grain sack. Every time we made camp, and night fell, the fires going and the good smells of coffee and food, we would hear a soft nicker, and here they'd come, sure of their welcome. Santa Claus and Dime. Santa was a little bay with black points. Dime was a roly-poly gray dappled. Both small, about 14 hands and gentle as dogs. How they knew where camp would be was one of the mysteries, as we made camp at so many wells, Old Cut, Volcanic, Surprise, Willow and red Tank. That covers a lot of desert, but they always showed up. If we were short of mounts, we'd use them until we gathered and then a big feed of grain and bid them farewell. Just parted like friends who expected to meet again soon.

Loni remembered the windmills her grandmother wrote about. Most were gone, Uncle Herm had said. In others, the water level had dropped so far that they no longer turned. Of course, Billy Bains had destroyed three of them. She thought about the times they had camped at two of those same wells. Seemed strange to think she had repeated the same things her grandmother did. Breaking off dead mesquite branches for fire, using the same cast iron skillets to cook in, closing the same gates, listening to the same windmill sounds. So many things stretch across the years. A smile on her face, Loni finished her grandmother's story.

One night, out of the shadows came Dime, alone. We knew Santa must have gone to the Big Range as they never separated. We never found his body, tho we looked. Dime was with us three more years. One day we found him standing in the water at Old Cut. His front legs were swollen and the screw worms had done their work. Some rope hobbles on him told the tale. We tried, but it was hopeless, so little Dime got the mercy shot. Later on we heard that he had stopped at a sheep camp. The herders, not knowing he wouldn't leave, had hobbled him and left him like that. Why they didn't release him we never knew, but decided it was just low mentality. Shortly after that, a band of sheep camped at Winters Well. They had reported to the deputy in that district that two wild cow men had broken up their camp, ran the burros off, disrobed the sheepmen down to their underwear and took their shoes and rifle, and destroyed their food. I believe this to be true, as I heard the story with much laughter and some grimness. I never asked the names of those "ruffians." I thought it was better to not know. But I seemed to see a white cloud floating above in the starlight and it looked mighty, like a horse head uplifted, the mane flying back, and I seemed to hear a horse laugh. Could have been my beloved Dime.

She couldn't read anymore. Dime reminded her of all the coyotes and the evil they had done. Loni replaced the notebook and closed the box. Beyond hope, she pushed the box to the back of the table and pulled her computer forward, opening the lid.

FROM: Loni Wagner

TO: Sandi@gmailyahoo.com

DATE: July 14

SUBJECT: Still here

I saw Maria today. And again, I couldn't save her. A coyote left five illegals on the desert to die. One of them looked just like Maria when we met. She had a baby in her arms. I carried the baby to the ambulance and told them to take her to the mortuary. I called to make arrangements. The service is tomorrow.

I know this happens in Third World countries. But not in my country. Have we no humanity? I have to change the subject or I'll start crying again.

About the case. I've been asking questions and getting nowhere. When will the boys be interviewed? Or what's happening with the stabbing? Why didn't James track the valve? Does Tully have anything on ricin production in the area? Why didn't State tell us about the drug traffickers? Who's covering the airports and small strips? What has Border Patrol found? No one shares information and I'm tired of waiting. No one lets me do anything. I feel invisible. Maybe I'll go out to see for myself.

Enough. Be safe.

Love to you et al.

Loni

Loni tossed and turned until she fell into a restless sleep. Again she dreamed of moving limbs so intertwined, she could not tell where Maria began and she ended. Skin on skin, they moved all over each other, tasting everywhere until Maria's sweet juices turned into the taste of blood. Loni woke calling Maria's name. She sat up and grabbed the edge of the sheet, wiping the sweat from her face and body.

Unable to sleep anymore, she got up and wrote on sticky notes, slapping them all over the loft. "I want Maria." "It should have been me." "The wrong one died." When her alarm rang, she peeled them off and stuffed them in the trash so that Daniel wouldn't find them.

In an oppressive fog she got ready for work.

CHAPTER 15

July 15, 2:23 a.m.

IT WAS ANOTHER QUIET night with just three speeders and no drunks. Loni was making her usual twice-a-night circle around the town square when a female apparition appeared in front of her SUV. For an instant, Loni thought she was seeing Maria's ghost. Long black hair flowed around a full white gown that swayed in front of the headlights.

As Loni hit the brake, the SUV twisted so suddenly that it almost flipped over. It ran on two tires for a few seconds before it dropped and skidded to a stop. Her heart pounded out of her chest, and Loni couldn't move, her mind scattering like fifty baby scorpions off their dead mama's decimated back.

As she was pulling herself together, someone pounded on her window. Loni whipped her head around, staring at a moon-faced teenage girl, shrieking at her. Coco whirled around, barking and growling. Shushing her, Loni pushed open the door and jumped out. "Jesus, kid, are you crazy? I almost killed you."

"Help us! Please help us!" the girl begged.

"What's wrong?"

"My father!" The girl's voice raised another three notes. "He kidnapped us!" She pulled on Loni's shirt front, trying to drag her toward the motel across the street.

"Hold on." Loni pried the girl's strong fingers off her shirt before she popped the buttons, especially as she was braless. "We need to talk about this," Loni said. After arm-waving and short words back and forth, Loni talked the girl into her SUV and drove them around to the side of the motel in sight of the room. "What's your name?" The girl was shaking so badly, a shadow reflected from the streetlamp danced beside Loni.

"Pamela Rodriguez."

"Pamela, how many are in the room with your dad?"

"My mom, my sister, her two kids." Pamela spoke in spurts and stutters.

"Where are they?"

"He handcuffed my mom to him in one bed and my sister and me to the other headboard. But he forgot how double jointed I am." She lifted her arm, showing Loni her small hand. "I slipped out of the cuffs when my sister went to sleep." Her voice tightened, making it difficult for Loni to understand her.

"Where are the little ones?" Loni wanted to keep her talking.

"On the floor next to my sister."

"How old are the kids?"

"Five. They're twins," Pamela said mournfully.

"If your dad wakes up, will he see you're gone?"

"I don't think so. He passed out." Pamela broke down, crying.

Loni spoke into her shoulder mike. "Bobby. Family kidnapping at Caliente Motel."

"Want a SWAT team?"

"I think you better. And a negotiator. A divorced father with a gun. Wife, daughter, and two five-year olds. He's drinking." Loni hung up. "Did you understand?"

The girl nodded, wiping tears and snot on the hem of her gown. "How long?"

"Hour or two before they set up. It's up to your dad and the negotiator after that."

Pamela began to keen. "Why can't you go in now?"

"Look at me." Loni lifted the girl's face, turning it toward her. "Pamela, look at me!" Loni waited until the girl's eyes focused on her. "Do you think your dad would hurt anyone who tried to stop him?"

The girl nodded.

"He's scared, and he's desperate. We need to talk him out, okay?"

Pamela nodded again.

Loni wanted to take the girl somewhere safe, but the father could blow out of there any minute. "Tell me what happened."

The girl's voice began to calm, but Loni could hear the quiver of fear in her voice. "My folks got divorced, and my dad showed yesterday, drunk again." She stopped and pulled at Loni's arm. "Please. Can't we go in now?"

"Soon," Loni promised. "Tell me the rest."

"He forced us into my mother's car." The girl rattled the sentence out in one breath as her hands rubbed up and down her bare arms. Her hair fell across her face, hiding her mouth.

Loni had to lean toward her to understand her words. "Where's your brother-in-law?"

"At work."

"Where do you live?"

"Los Angeles." She started keening again. "Can't we go home now?"

"In a little while. Where is he taking you?"

"A long way below Mexico City. He said none of us could ever get back." The girl gulped a deep breath. She rocked back and forth. "Mama shook her head when I snuck out. Did I do wrong?"

"No, no," Loni reassured her. "You did good." She took her hand, trying to comfort her. The girl was so agitated that she couldn't sit still. "Tell me about the little ones." Loni kept her talking about her life in LA until the SWAT team from Tucson quietly pulled up behind her. She glanced at her watch in amazement. They had made it in less than an hour.

Loni left Pamela in the SUV and trotted back to the van. She repeated Pamela's story and returned to her SUV, quietly driving out of the way as the SWAT team converged on the dark motel room.

*  *  *

Loni raided the lounge at the police station for an apple and a bottle of water and took them to Pamela. She draped a light blanket around Pamela's shoulders and across her bare feet, hoping to help her shivering. It wasn't long before the SWAT team dragged her father in for booking. The girl spit on him as he shuffled by, acting like a whipped dog.

Pamela was a different girl when Loni drove her back to the motel where the others waited for her. Demanding clothes, hairbrush and food, she buzzed like a cicada around a yellow light. Remembering how insecure she was as a teenager, Loni envied the girl her take charge, independent attitude. She was changing her clothes in the backseat and talking loudly as the car started off on the long ride back to LA.

Loni sat watching down the highway long after the car had disappeared, but she no longer wanted to follow them. When did that change?

*  *  *

Back at the station just in time for the task force meeting, Loni saw a young girl knocking on the door. She had the round face, almond shaped eyes, and the light, chocolate colored skin of a Pima. Reaching around her, Loni buzzed to get in. She pulled the door open, asking the girl her name. "Como se llama?"

The girl shook her head. She was so tiny that Loni couldn't figure out her age. Her clean, full skirted dress was yellow with large red polka dots, and her rubber flip flops were covered with sequins.

Her eyes darted around as Loni held the door open for her. "Por favor, entra." Loni nodded toward Lola behind the booking counter. "Lola le ayudara."

The girl slowly followed Loni up to the desk.

"Hey, Lola." Loni nodded to the girl. "Maybe she'll tell you what she wants."

As she headed into Chief's conference room, she could hear Lola's soothing voice comforting the young girl.

Loni sat next to Carl, waiting for him to start. He stood, waiting for Tully to shut up. Tully's scraggly beard quivered as he muttered to himself about a computer problem before he stared back at Carl. A careful expression on his craggy face, Carl started the meeting. "Tully. Got anything?"

"Like what?"

Disgusted, Carl stared at Tully a few seconds. "Here's what I want you to do, Tully. Ask around who visited at the couple's house, talk to the neighbors, check phone calls in and out, find who they hung out with that needs to be interviewed. And do it now." Carl waited for Tully to finally get up out of his chair. Taking his time to pick up his papers, Tully sighed a couple of times before he ambled out the door. Carl turned to Loni. "The fingerprint from the valve is not in the criminal system. They said they would keep searching. You find any drugs yesterday?"

"No," Loni told Carl with a heavy heart. "The illegals were clean."

Carl nodded. "See you tomorrow."

Thinking about Bahb's and Shiichoo's troubles, Loni beat Carl out the door, hoping the fax on Bahb's missing mother cows had shown up. The young Pima girl was frantically trying to make Lola understand her. It wasn't until Lola looked at Loni in total frustration that she began to hear what the girl was saying. "Mua at g Gaso g Chuk Baha ab e-kih-ab g wainomikaj." She shook her finger at Lola.

"She said somebody killed a man named Blue at his house. Or her house. I'm not sure which," Loni interjected and turned to the girl. "Kut heDai I mua g Chuk Baha?"

"Gaso! Gaso!"

"Says someone named Fox killed him."

"Ask her where he lives," Lola told Loni.

"Bah' o kih g Gaso?"

"T wo I men g Gaso."

"Says Fox will run. He's probably already gone." Loni turned back to the girl. "Heg at wo I gei, heDai I meDk."

The girl stared at Loni. "I really hate a smart ass," she said in perfect English and hurried out the door.

Loni looked at Lola and sputtered, "Guess her English is fine." Loni walked to the door to see if the girl was in view. "She's Pima. Better call the cops on the Gila Reservation. It's their jurisdiction."

"What did you say to her?"

"It's an old Pima truism: 'He will fall who runs.'"

"What do you suppose she really wanted?" Lola wondered.

"My guess is she's afraid of reservation cops. Whatever went down, she wanted somebody to know who did it, and she didn't want to be involved."

Lola grinned at Loni's shrug. "First it was Spanish. You understand O'odham, too?"

"Just some words like yes, no, sit, move your butt, or eat shit."

"Sounds like you're a fine communicator."

Loni shrugged. "Pointing is good, too."

"Good thing Papago and Pima are both O'odham."

"The Pimas I know mostly speak Spanish. Sometimes it's easier to talk to Willie than Bahb," Loni explained.

"He doesn't know English?"

"Not like Shiichoo. She was forced to go to the Indian boarding school when she was really little. Bahb managed to escape that hellhole until he was in his teens." Leaning on the counter, Loni tried to recall Bahb's voice. "Shiichoo made sure he learned enough English to get by, so it's pretty broken." Loni smiled. "Shiichoo understands O'odham better than she speaks it. She knows a bit of Apache. They both know Spanish."

"Do they talk to each other in mixed languages?"

Smiling at an image in her mind, Loni tried to explain. "Sometimes I've heard them rattling words off to each other, and I swear they don't have a clue what the other's saying." Loni laughed. "I asked Shiichoo about it one time. She said 'I watch his body language to see how well I'm doing.' So," Loni stood, "anything for me?"

"They ID'd your fingerprints from the windmill." Lola answered. "Here's the fax."

Loni stared down at the face of Calvin Miller. "I think he was in my freshman class in high school. I don't remember him after that." Loni looked up at Lola's concerned face. "What!"

Lola shrugged. "I used to date his brother. Hope he's not involved."

Loni was surprised at how much Lola's admission pierced her. "Which one?"

"J.R."

"I'm sorry." Loni was afraid she had upset her. "What happened?"

"Nothing. Other than he was really a bore. Nice. But boring."

"Well, there's a lot of that around."

"If he's part of this, you should look to his old man. His attitude toward Mexicans was really sick. He's one mean sonofabitch."

"I'll do what I can, Lola. Don't know what though." Loni checked the fax again. "This his right address?"

"Far as I know."

*  *  *

An hour later, Loni, Bahb, and Willie were on a desert road, driving in the ruts between barbwire fences. She had picked them up in her truck, and it took her a full half hour to get them to stop giving her a hard time about the climb into her truck, nose bleeds from altitude, and the rough ride. "Those fences remind me of the way you tried to teach me to drive, Bahb," she said, trying to get them to talk about something else. "You put me in that old pickup and said, 'Just keep it between the fences.'"

"I 'fraid to ride with you," he said, totally poker faced. "You go in ditch."

"Crap! You didn't know how to drive yourself. I gave up and had Daniel teach me."

She saw his mouth twitch. "Hope Shiichoo not hear you. Turds in dirty mouth."

"Soap, Bahb, soap." Loni slowly pulled to a stop. "What the hell?" she blurted, watching the scene unfold in front of her. Sitting bareback on top of a jackass, a shirtless and barefoot man was flapping his legs trying to herd a mother cow and two calves out of the road back through a hole in the fence. His arms waved in time with his legs as he yelled, "Move! Goddammit! Move your sorry ass! Move!" Loni couldn't tell if he was talking to the jackass or the cows.

His bare feet dragged the ground, catching weeds between dirty toes, as he rode over to the truck. "Look at this." He pulled on the jackass to stop. "My empire's fallin' down all around me."

Willie laughed and Loni would have joined him if she hadn't been so pissed about Flossie. And her raw, sore butt. Taking a deep breath, Loni drew herself up to her full height. "Hey, Cal. I'm looking for Bahb's cows. Know who took them?"

"Well, don't look at me. I swear I had nothin' to do wit it. All's I know is my brother took 'em."

"J.R.?"

"Nah. Not J.R. He's so worthless we have to do his stealing for him."

Loni was relieved.

"It were Peewee. He did borrow J.R.'s truck though. Boy was he pissed. Wouldn't even take a cow for it. Last I know'd, Peewee left 'em behind my dad's house."

Loni nodded and drove on up the road to Cal's dad's farm. "He's lying," she said to Bahb. "It was his fingerprint on the rod. Both he and Peewee are in on it."

"Whoa," Willie said, and Loni stopped on the side of the road. They had found their cows. Flicking ears and swishing tails, they stood with their heads down looking hungry and thirsty.

She listened to Bahb and Willie talk about the cows, each by name, as if they were people. Pulling back onto the road, she interrupted. "Old Man Miller. Is he as mean as I remember him?"

"Prob'ly," Bahb said as they got out of the truck in front of a sagging farm house. A large, short haired, brown mutt greeted them with wild, out-of-control barking and body slams against the gate.

"Wow." Willie grinned. "Guess he no like you."

Loni gave Willie a skinny look. "Maybe it's you he doesn't like."

Watching the dog slam against the gate again, Willie shook his head. "Only one thing worse than bad dog."

"I know, Willie. I heard Bahb say it before. It's the sonofabitch that would own one."

Loni clanged the cowbell hanging on the gatepost, and the dog went berserk. "Think he knows how to get out?"

"Not yet." Her granddad grinned as Loni's eyes widened.

An old man opened the screen door and yelled, "Wha'dja' want?"

"I'm after those cows out back," Loni shouted back between dog snarls.

John Miller shuffled out, kicking at the dog.

"Shaddup!" Limping, the mangy dog cowered on its belly, growling low as it crawled under the porch.

Pale and emaciated, John ran a swollen hand through his thin, stringy hair to wipe away the sweat. Tired, gray wisps of chest hair stuck out around his dirty undershirt.

"Find happy hunting ground soon," Bahb said. "Man sick."

"You mean go to hell. I wish I could send him there now," Loni fumed.

Bahb gently placed his brown hand over Loni's fingers resting on her gun butt. "He already in hell. Been there a long time." They watched him shuffle down the walkway toward them. "Leave him be."

"So?" John opened the gate and glared at them. "You want to buy them?"

"No," Loni snapped. "I want them back."

The old man sneered. "They ain't branded. Prove they're yours."

Under her breath, Loni muttered, "I really want to shoot him." She felt Bahb squeeze her hand. "I need your bill of sale."

"Why?"

"Because you can't prove they belong to you without one."

"Don't have one."

"You admit you stole them," Loni snapped and felt Bahb squeeze her hand again.

"From who?"

Loni was out of patience. "I just told you. From Bahb here."

John guffawed. "Good one. You know you can't steal from an Indian. Bob doesn't own anything worth stealing."

"It's Bahb, not Bob. He's my granddad, Mr. Miller."

"I know who you are."

"Then you know those cattle belong to him."

"Fine. Take them. Told those worthless boys not to leave them there," he snarled, starting to turn away. "Can't understand anyone who won't brand a cow, anyhow."

"Well guess what? You're under arrest, Mr. Miller."

"Ni, ni," her granddad insisted, pulling on her arm. "Leave him be."

She turned to him in exasperation. "They left old Flossie in that cactus patch to die!"

"I know, I know."

Loni sighed. "Okay, Bahb." She turned back to Old Man Miller. "You tell Cal and Peewee to take the cows to Bahb's ranch. Today. Or I will be back and arrest the lot of you."

He back waved her off as he turned toward his house.

Angry and frustrated, Loni got into the truck and waited for Bahb and Willie to climb in beside her. "He shouldn't get away with that!"

"He do bad. But I never knew man who try harder."

"Not that I ever saw," Loni countered.

"He work hard for his lord and he thought on his investments."

"What does that mean?"

"Years back he buy motel and new freeway bypass it. Remember? He buy laying hens and virus kill them. He buy Shetland ponies. They so mean, kids no near them. He buy cotton farm, but price fall out bottom. Cheaper from India. His wife die. He sick, broken man. Leave him be."

"I know one way he was successful. He gave the church a new member every year," Loni said wryly.

"Yi." Willie nodded. "Wonder he know what cause that?"

"Bet his wife didn't." Loni snickered. Feeling disapproval from her grandpa, Loni couldn't quit. "Shit, Bahb! His kind would have scalped you a hundred years ago."

Bahb lifted his hat. "Still have it." He had a broad grin as he sat his hat back on his head.

Giving up, Loni drove Bahb and Willie back to the ranch. They were all silent. Loni wondered what went on in their minds during those long, quiet rides across the desert, what pictures were in their heads. She couldn't even imagine how they had grown up.

*  *  *

At least today's Thursday, she reminded herself. Not all is lost. The truck should bring something else for her to think about. The dishwasher and hot water heater were due.

Three trucks blocked her way when she got to the ranch, and Ralph was pulling big boxes out of the back of one of them. Speed had already taken out three of the old canvas covered screen windows and was slowly working on a fourth. She wasn't sure about the third truck that idled in the middle of the road.

As Loni left her truck out under the salt cedars, she heard whining through the screen door. She hurried to the house and let Coco out, hugging her squirming body. Thinking about the poor, beaten dog at the Miller's ranch, Loni could imagine Maria's angry face. She would insist they take the dog and find it a good home. Even when Loni reminded her the animal belonged to someone else, Maria would bulldoze her way in until the owner gave up the animal or she charged them with cruelty.

After one last hug, Loni let go and walked into the kitchen behind Willie and her grandpa to face her grandma, but all she got was Shiichoo's famous skinny look before Loni escaped for home.

*  *  *

Unable to sleep from the racket Daniel was making down below, Loni opened her computer.

FROM: Loni Wagner

TO: Sandi@gmailyahoo.com

DATE: July 15

SUBJECT: Still here

I'm still listing the reasons I don't ranch.

Reason #5: Cattle rustling again. Although Bahb is still missing some yearlings, I'm glad we found the others. That loss would devastate him. More than money, it's losing old friends. I am always amazed at the total love my Indian grandparents have for all children and animals. Wish I could say the same for most of the whites I know.

Not much going on with the case. It's as though everybody's being sent to the wrong place at the wrong time on the wrong day. I don't want to believe that Carl is deliberately misleading everyone, but I also don't understand how anyone could misread the leads so badly. Funny about that! Seems I've gone full circle.

Loni

Closing her laptop, Loni rummaged around in a kitchen drawer for the sack of drugs Lola gave her. Watching Coco sniff the drugs one at a time, she smiled at a story Bacon had told her about a campout he came across last winter.

One of campers, the principal of a high school from a neighboring town, had dug up plants and left them in a pile, and Bacon told him that he could arrest him for digging them up. Bacon started laughing as he recalled how the principal said he was moving them because he didn't want to kill them where he parked. Bacon laughed even harder when the principal told him he was going to replant them. "What really gets me," Bacon told Loni, "is how very ignorant our educators are. He didn't even recognize peyote."

Loni thought about the coach and his wife as she left Coco in the loft and wandered the hangar to hide the drugs. Strange the way Chief quietly shipped them back to Fresno to family for burial. In fact, when she thought about it, everything was too quiet. It's as though the task force was being shut out, accomplishing nothing. Who was calling the shots? State? Feds? Chief?

Loni let Coco out. "Hunt, Coco."

Daniel watched her follow Coco around. "Never saw a grown person play hide-and-seek."

"Oh, shut up, Daniel. Go back to your toys."

It took Coco longer than it should, but then it was the first time Loni had trained Coco on her own. She was learning to do a lot of things on her own.

CHAPTER 16

July 16, 2:00 a.m.

THE NIGHT SPILLED dark liquid all over the landscape, and Loni couldn't see her hand in front of her face as she sat in her parked SUV. Determined to find illegals before they got into worse trouble, she inched along, snaking the light from the spotlights strung across the top of the SUV as she searched the indistinct trails. She knew they would rather die than go back to the brutal life across the border. Accepting futility, Loni turned around and started back onto the highway.

A waving figure popped up in her lights on the side of the road. Behind the person, a truck tilted off the road on its side. Staying behind her open door, Loni stepped out as she spoke into a bullhorn. "Come on out with your hands up." Nothing moved. Well, shit. She could feel someone else out there. "Come out now!" Nothing.

Loni leaned down and signaled Coco. "Hunt, Coco," she said quietly. The dog crouched and moved into the night. "You speak English?" Loni asked the child standing in the headlights.

"Little." Huddled in her serape, the girl shivered in spite of the heat.

"Anyone with you?" Loni stayed out of the light, hoping to hide from any shooter stirring in the dark.

The girl darted a look toward the truck but didn't answer.

"Walk to me." Loni watched the girl's cautious approach. She pulled her out of the headlights and turned her around, searching her. Nothing. She helped the girl into the back of the SUV and quietly closed the door, locking her in.

Coco had been gone too long. "Hey! If you're out there, don't run. You'll just go to jail thirsty and tired." Loni smiled as she heard Coco's attacking growl.

“Consique un descuento de me!" The man's screaming voice mixed with Coco's low, vicious snarl. A Mexican man materialized out of the darkness, swinging and dragging an angry dog clamped on his hand. "Consique un descuento de me!" he screamed again in fear.

"Coco! Release!" Loni ordered. Coco let go but didn't move as she continued her low snarls, sounding like a hacking, spitting man in a dust storm.

The man held onto his wrist. "¿Habla Espanol?" The man pointed at his wrist and then his knee. "Necesito un médico."

"Hospital?"

"Si. ¿Habla Espanol?"

"No habla." Loni answered, searching him for weapons. Young, she thought, surprised. clean shaven with new suit and tie, good haircut, nice looking. Unusual for traffickers or coyotes. Must be a drug runner, she decided. Maria had taught her not to use the word wetback. She could feel his muscles tighten as she ran her hands over him, pulling a switchblade and cell phone out of a front pants pocket.

Chui's number was on fast dial. Well, shit. How bad is this? Another illegal with Chui's number. Noticing him staring at her, she shrugged and dropped the phone in her pocket, pretending indifference. As the young man climbed into the backseat, the child began to sob.

"Ca'llati!" the man threatened. "Voy a golpearte."

Hit her, Loni thought, and it'll be the last time.

"No pasta, no agua," she whimpered to the Mexican man, "lo dejó morir a mis hermanas."

The sonofabitch, Loni sputtered to herself. He left her sisters and a baby out there with no food or water. They would die. She knew a coyote wouldn't give her any information, but maybe the girl would.

"A sus hijos a hacer mucho ruido," he spat back.

The baby made too much noise? Loni decided she had another no good coyote bastard. Treating others worse than cattle, taking their money, dumping them with nothing, nowhere to go. Or worse! Maybe use the girl in the slave trade. Loni stomped on the gas pedal and sped to the clinic, dragging the young man in through the door. She left him handcuffed to a bed rail.

Walking out of the clinic, Loni pulled the phone out of her pocket and tapped out Chui's number. "My man, you need to keep better track of your coyotes. Got one here in a spot of trouble." Loni listened to a string of expletives from Chui and hung up on him.

She unlocked the SUV door and helped the child out, motioning her to follow Loni to the lounge vending machines. "Lo que te gusta?"

"Me gustaría que y que." She picked a Coke and a peanut butter cup with a big grin on her face. "Gracias."

Feeding bills into the machine and pushing buttons, Loni handed the candy and coke to the girl trying to calm her down. "Sentarse," she answered the child. "Su nombre?"

"Maya." She gulped through her sobs.

"Your name is Maya. Pretty name." Loni wondered how much English she actually knew.

"My mama's name. She die birthing me."

"Pretty dress. Did you make it?" Loni asked encouragingly.

"No. My aunt."

"Your English is very good."

"I work for priest. He taught me. He die so I come north with my two sisters." Holding on tightly to her candy, Maya kept crying.

"Can you tell me why he left your sisters?" Loni asked encouragingly.

"He took money. Afraid baby would get him caught, so he left them. Other sister angry so he threw her out too. He like me." Maya wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Tell me where your sisters are and I'll go get them."

"True?"

"Yes."

Loni slowly coaxed a description of where the two women and babies had been left. "You can see windmill from road," she said. "Way in distance. He left them yesterday."

Loni knew the only windmill visible from Old Highway 85 was "The Well That Minnie Dug." Loni loved that name. She had often wondered who Minnie was.

Quickly settling the coyote and the girl in two separate cells, Loni told Bobby, "Send a tow for the pickup. Tell Gary to search it for drugs first thing."

"Not just a coyote?"

"Maybe. Didn't seem to care about his passengers. Maybe child predator. Only two women and a child. He dumped them and kept a young girl. Kept the money."

"Got it," Bobby answered.

"One more thing. I know where the coyote left the women. I'm going back to find them."

"Call Border Patrol to do it."

"You know they won't go until tomorrow. They'll be dead by then."

"Chief won't like it," Bobby warned her.

"What? No, I can't hear you!" Loni walked out, knowing Chief would make her pay for it with another stupid job. Or no job. She could only hope.

Loni turned off the highway at Milepost 46 and drove two miles on an old worn out, potholed, dusty desert road toward "The Well That Minnie Dug." She had to laugh at Coco as she squinted at Loni in disgust and lay down, anchoring herself between Loni and the door to keep from tumbling to the floor.

Loni drove into the corral surrounding the tank and shined her spotlights all around. The gate and most of the wire around the corral were gone, and the windmill fan spun slowly in the slight breeze, pushed by its fat kite tail. The blades weren't turning. That meant no water. She had heard no one took care of this tank anymore, but it meant death for the illegals.

She got out, calling the sisters by the names the girl gave her. A weak voice replied from behind the tank. Loni shined her light down at a dead baby. "Ayudame por favor," a young girl begged. She sat against a mesquite tree, rocking her sick sister who was moaning and sweating heavily. Heat stroke!

"Habla usted Ingles?"

"No," the girl answered.

Loni ran back to the SUV and grabbed a water bottle, the cup top off Coco's water jug, and a first aid kit. Pulling a small box of salt from her kit, she shook it into the cup and poured water in, stirring with her finger. She handed the rest of the bottle to the sitting girl and then held the cup up to her sick sister's mouth. After the sick woman took a few swallows, Loni picked up the baby. Carefully wrapping the dead child in an old, clean horse blanket, she gently placed her in the backseat of the SUV.

Calling for an ambulance to meet her at Milepost 46, Loni hurried back to the sisters and carried the sick woman to the SUV. Her sister climbed in and held her.

"De donde es usted?" Loni asked.

The girl ignoring the question. "Hospital?"

No one seems to want to tell me where they came from, Loni thought, probably because they don't want to go back. "Pronto," she answered as she drove to the highway where paramedics waited to take them to the clinic.

Loni watched the flashing lights shrink into the dark night until they disappeared.

*  *  *

Back on Old Highway 85, she saw light push over the horizon and outline Saddle Peak. At Harper Road, she made a quick decision and flipped onto the dirt road to search the travel trailer site.

It had been a long time since she last traveled this washboard road. Her jaws were soon sore from clenching against the slam, slam, slam, of the uneven ruts. Dust sifting in through the open windows coated her face and everything else in the SUV. Between coughs, she spit out the dust, but it blew back on her. In between sneezes, Coco crawled out of the floorboard back onto the seat only to get flung right back down again. Even slowing down didn't help. She rolled up the windows, not knowing which was worse, suffocating from dirt or heat.

On her left, Carl's fence separated his ranch from Bahb's. The rarely graded country road wasn't mended until flash floods washed it out. Ahead, a locked gate was posted with "NO TRESPASSING" and "NO HUNTING" signs. "What the —?" she muttered to Coco. "Where did that gate come from?"

Driving on, she saw other metal signs anchored to the fence. What's with that? After seven more miles of brutal driving, she arrived at the dead end where Carl said the trailer had camped. Ten days ago?

She stopped under an ironwood tree and let Coco out to help her search. When they didn't find anything, not even human trash, for a quarter of a mile, she turned back. A black Hummer drove out of another gate and pulled up beside her. She felt the cold air pushing out at her when she walked up to the open window. "Well, Robert Teag. How's your wife? Did she like your package?"

"You're trespassing," he said. "I have to ask you to move on."

Loni smiled and shook her head. "This is a county road, Robert. That means anybody can travel it." Loni pointed to the distant hill. "This side of the road you and I are on? Belongs to my granddad's ranch. Guess that means if anybody's trespassing, it would be you."

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm standing on my own land, and you ask me what I'm doing here? You're kidding, right?"

Teag stared at her impassively.

What the hell. "Looking for a travel trailer someone said was camping here," she answered.

"Not here," Robert assured her. "I've got surveillance on this road, and I can tell you no trailer's been around here."

"You part of Carl Harper's renters?"

Robert nodded. "Security."

"Security for what?"

"Plants."

"What kind of plants. Rare plants?"

Robert shrugged. "You have to ask the boss."

"Do you fly them out of here?"

"Sometimes."

"You have a runway?" Loni watched Robert's face close down as he rolled up the window. The Hummer turned around and sped back to the gate. Robert punched in three numbers, and the gate quietly slid open. The Hummer drove through and disappeared over the hill in a cloud of hot dust as the gate slid shut.

"Let's go," she told Coco, walking back to the SUV. She got both of them a drink of water before pouring some on her kerchief. Sitting in her SUV, she stared in the rearview mirror at the smeared mess of sweat and dirt on her face and fought anger and disappointment. Carl had lied to her about the camp trailer, lied about drugs on the illegals. What next? If she couldn't trust him, who could she trust? Mourning the loss of an old friend, she wanted to quit and go back to LA until she remembered Maria wasn't there anymore.

*  *  *

Loni left the filthy SUV at the police shop with a note on the windshield for Gary to wash it, relieved he wasn't there. That way she didn't have to listen to him say, "You can't rope and jerk that machinery like that!"

Bobby was at the front desk when she stopped to sign out. "Chief find out who robbed him yet?"

"No. Only thing I can think is I was releasing this kid who rents from Carl. He got drunk at Billy's Bar and beat the crap out of a woman, and his dad was bailing him out. Steve O'Neal. I was upstairs a few minutes getting him down." Bobby's long face was screwed up in thought. "Maybe you can drive out there? See what they know?"

Loni was still staring at her computer screen, fruitlessly searching for something on ricin, when the task force group started gathering.

Chui grabbed malt balls out of the bowl on Loni's desk and stuffed his mouth full.

"You enjoying them, Chui?" Loni crossed her arms and leaned back in disgust.

His mouth full, Chui mumbled, "You bet."

"That's good," Loni said. "I got them off the floor of the drunk tank."

She laughed at him as he spit them out. James snorted.

"That's one, Loni," Chui spit at her.

She knew he meant it, but she couldn't stop smirking.

Lola laid her head on the desk and pounded her fists in laugher.

Chui glared at her. "You know what's wrong wit you wimen?" His accent was heavier when he was angry. "What's wrong wit you wimen is that you're a bunch of flat petered cowboys wit penis envy." Chui grabbed his crotch and shook it, staring at Lola.

Well, shit, Loni thought. Isn't he done with that old line yet? She turned her back on him.

"Chui, Chui, Chui." Lola said. "You're such a silly boy." A flourish of her arm sent her bracelets jangling. "You know that's not true. We girls can get all the penis we want!"

Chui was furious now as he stalked toward Lola. "Why you defending that bulldyke? You sleeping with her now?"

"Not yet, but I'm thinking about it." Lola stared back at Chui with a serious expression.

"I know you lie," Chui said. "I seen how you treat men."

"I'd rather sleep with her than you, Chui."

Loni stared at Lola in amazement as Chui fled into the conference room sputtering about goddam dykes. James followed him in, eyeing Lola with a speculative expression, which she studiously ignored. "You put up with a lot of crap in school from Chui?" Lola asked Loni.

Loni shrugged.

"You gonna answer my question?"

"Chui pretty much left me alone after I kneed him in the balls."

"What about James?" Lola demanded.

"James was another matter. He was one year behind me in school and was my biggest tormenter. His friends loved to join him in grabbing my breasts and butt, playing tricks, calling me names. He wasn't happy with me being a lesbian, but he hated me most for being a breed. I don't know which embarrassed him the most." Loni smiled sadly at Lola. "You know defending me is going to get you into trouble?"

"Why? Think I care if someone calls me a lesbian?"

"Well, don't you?"

Lola shrugged. "Maybe when I was younger, but not anymore. Growing up, did you hate yourself for being a lesbian?"

Loni shook her head. "No. I believe what my grandpa taught me. He said I was a two spirit and that was an honor. I was equally male and female, which gave me greater wisdom. But what really got me through high school was hearing his voice repeat to me over and over. I can still hear him. 'Our spirit God made no mistakes. Think on that. No mistakes. Not ever.'"

"What about the truly evil person?"

"I wondered about that myself. He said they're not born that way."

"God made no mistakes. I love that." Lola walked away smiling.

Loni nodded to Tully as he came around the corner, and followed him into the conference room.

Carl was already talking as Loni walked into the smell of sweaty bodies. "I'm sorry to do this to you, but I need you all to work Saturday."

His voice was drowned out by "No way, Jose," "Well, shit on a stick," "I got a sick mother," "I got a sick turtle."

He waited until the loud voices quieted. "Here's what we know, people. We got three more dead in Phoenix. They caught another dealer who pointed to Caliente as his source. Said it was a bald headed, squatty white guy called Jimmy. Couldn't get a better description. The dealer was a young Mexican kid who said all gringos looked alike. Oh, yes. He did say his source drove a dark Hummer. Anybody seen a dark Hummer around?"

"Dark what?"

Carl stared at Tully. "Dark, dark. How would I know?"

Someone would shoot her down, but Loni had no choice. "I saw a Hummer at the post office earlier in the week."

"You see the driver?"

"Yeah. He was mailing a package. Or so he said." Loni patted the notebook in her shirt pocket. "He gave me a phone number. He was mailing it to his wife, so I called her."

"Was that legal?" James asked Carl.

"He had heavy camouflage on," Loni said defensively. "Too heavy for this time of year. I didn't believe him."

"What'd his wife say?" Tully sounded curious.

"Aside from saying she'd shoot him if he ever showed up again? You don't want to hear what else she said, but she convinced me he was who he said he was." She took her notebook out of her pocket and opened it. "I got her name, phone number, and address plus his name and address off his driver's license, and the Hummer's license plate."

Carl nodded. "Chui? Get the information from Loni and check it out."

"Wait a minute," Loni interrupted. "I'm not through. Saw him again this morning in that same black Hummer coming out of your place, Carl. Said he was security. I asked him if they were growing rare plants. He didn't deny it. Didn't deny they had an airport there either."

Carl ducked his head and jotted something down. "I didn't know." His voice sounded stressed. "But it's time we found out." Carl turned to James. "You find anything out from the dealers?"

"Wait. One more thing," Loni interrupted again. "Bobby said only people around when Chief lost his gun were O'Neal and Teag. Bobby said he went upstairs to get the kid out of lockup and left the two at his desk."

Everybody stared at Loni, who turned red and shrank down in her seat. "Just saying."

"Chui, find Teag. We can get a warrant." Carl turned back to James. "The dealers?"

"They were lawyered up and wouldn't say anything." James ducked his head.

"Okay. Tully could use some help with the couple. See him later." Carl turned to Tully then. "Find anything on the couple?

"Previous drug arrests, but no convictions. Arrest sheet from Fresno indicated they were probably dealers there."

"Any connection to anyone here?"

"No. Still looking, though."

Carl nodded. "Tell James what you need."

"Isn't Chief from Fresno?" Tully asked. "Maybe he knew them."

Carl shrugged. "I doubt it. He's been here more than five years, but you ask him anyway." Carl continued to look around the table. "Chui? Rosie talking yet?"

"No. And the two border patrollers are still missing. But I talked to my Mexican contact. Rene flew out of San Luis the day he crashed." Chui paused, tapping his pencil on the table. "My friend, Sergeant Ruiz, said he'd make it a point to find out who Rene met."

"Good, Chui. Keep on that. So, Loni, here's what you do." Loni heard the change in Carl's voice. No longer tentative, he sounded like any other bureaucrat making stupid decisions. "I want you and Coco back at school checking lockers."

"Did anyone check out the lockers I already found?"

"I gave the acting superintendent your information. That's their job. Can't tell you what I don't know."

"And I'm going back because...?"

"Maybe the meth has shown up by now." Carl gave her the look, and she shut up.

Loni caught up with Tully as they reached the door and she walked out of the building with him. "Tully, could you research ricin for me?"

"Research how?"

"Any report of castor bean trees growing and where. Any animal deaths due to eating the beans. Same for castor bean oil production. Orders for plants or beans. Anybody making ricin for commercial purposes." Loni thought as they walked to the police lot. "I guess any possible source that contaminated the meth. Could you do that?"

"I've already done that," Tully said. "I'll leave the information for you tomorrow." He turned and walked into the drugstore as Loni stared at his back in amazement.

*  *  *

Fed up with wasting her time searching for the poisoned meth, Loni stopped at Jenny's classroom as the last bell rang. "Hi."

Jenny glanced up and gave Loni a broad smile. "Lunch?"

"Great!"

"My house?"

"Sure! I'll follow you."

As Loni watched Jenny pull away, she saw Phillip Brushard trying to sell his car to a student. Loni started laughing as she looked at the car covered with duct tape. Except for a few streaks, what was once red was now gray. Loni had a hard time believing this was the same car that had rolled into the jumping cactus patch." Got those cholla needles all pulled out yet?"

Phillip took the tall teenager's money, handed him the keys, and turned to Loni. "Nope. Especially where I can't reach. How about a ride home? You could —"

Loni blurted out, "He'll take you." She nodded toward the new car owner as he stepped over the taped door into the car.

"Nah. The motor mounts popped. I don't want to be in that piece of shit when the motor drops."

"You tell the kid that?"

"Of course. Told him baling wire should hold it."

Loni gave up arguing with Phillip and inspected the car. "Looks like you missed a few spots."

"Nah. Tape's already peeling."

"That's because you bought cheap tape!"

"So?" Phillip pulled a money clip out of his pocket. He brushed at it, white fuzz flying. "What is this crap on my money?"

"You're so cheap, Phillip. It's probably cobwebs."

Phillip stuck the money in the clip.

"How much did you get for it?"

"$400."

"You should give him $400 to take it!"

"How about buying me lunch?" Phillip asked as he stuffed the money clip into his pocket.

"Sorry, Phillip. Meeting someone."

"Do I know her?"

"No. And I'm not introducing her to you, either," Loni said as she walker off.

"Worried about the competition?"

Shaking her head, Loni ordered Coco into the truck. As she pulled out of the parking lot onto the street, Coco barked. Something hit the back of Loni's leg, hard, knocking it off the gas pedal. Loni slammed on the brake, slapped the car into neutral, and grabbed Coco's collar to keep her from hitting the dash. Something hit her leg again. Leaning forward, she saw a rattlesnake's head rear up. Loni was up on the seat and squatting before she even realized she moved. "Coco, stop!"

Reaching over slowly and carefully, she opened the driver's door. She reached across Coco and opened the passenger door. A kid walked by and stopped to stare at her. "Get me the shovel out of the back." He kept staring at her. "Now!" she yelled.

He climbed up the tailgate and grabbed the shovel.

"Now! Careful! Stand out there and hand it to me, handle first."

Staring at her, he handed her the shovel.

"Now. Run like hell!"

"Why?"

"Because a big old diamondback is coming out from under my seat and you don't want to be in the way."

The young man scrambled a long way back.

She waved the shovel blade along the bottom of the seat, trying to get the snake to strike. Nothing. Using the shovel as a shield, she carefully looked behind the seat, praying it wasn't trying to slither up. Nothing. Do I jump? Undecided, she waited. A head reached out the driver's side, weaving up and down, tongue flicking out trying to smell his way to the ground.

Telling Coco to stay, Loni stepped out the passenger's side, shovel in hand and ran around to face the snake. They stood there staring at each other until the snake undulated down to the ground. Loni came up behind the surging snake and chopped off its head. In a cold sweat, she dropped the shovel and slid down the side of the truck, leaning back against a tire. As the adrenalin dissipated, she started to shake.

Coco nuzzled up to her and licked her face. It was the first time the dog had reached out to comfort her since Maria died. Loni wrapped her arms around the dog and hung on until her shakes subsided. Someone seriously wants me dead, she thought, amazed. Who?

She was still sitting there ten minutes later when Jenny drove up. "What's wrong? You weren't behind me so I came back." Before she could answer Jenny, Rebecca came at her, furious. "How dare you kill that snake?"

Pissed off, Loni yelled at her. "What? You want one of those kids to get struck?"

Ranting curses at Loni, she muttered, "Next time I won't miss." She glanced over at Jenny's expression and realized she had said it out loud. "No. No. I didn't mean it that way. I meant next time I won't miss finding the snake."

"That was your pet rattler, wasn't it? The one you cut the rattles off?" Jenny demanded to know.

"She can't prove it."

"I guess she doesn't have to." Jenny's voice raised an octave.

"Do you own a motorcycle?" Loni asked Rebecca.

"No."

"Yes, she does," Jenny said.

"You shot at me Tuesday night!" Loni yelled.

Jenny stared at her in horror. "You were shot at?"

"Well?" Loni stared at Rebecca.

A flash of fear raced across Rebecca's face, and she flounced off, hurrying back into the building.

Loni looked at Jenny. "If you don't mind, I'd like to take a rain check. I lost my appetite."

"I understand," Jenny said between clenched teeth, "and I need to talk to Rebecca."

Loni wondered about the female DNA from Rene's plane. Could it be? It seemed a bit excessive for jealousy. She began to wonder if any of Rebecca's DNA was on the snake. Deciding it was worth a try, she gingerly picked up the snake and coiled it up into a corner of her truck bed, half smiling to herself. Bobby was gonna love shipping this to the lab. Climbing back into the truck, Loni remembered the print from the epoxy that came in with the DNA. She wondered how she could get a fingerprint from Rebecca.

Slowly driving home, adrenalin spikes alternated with the shakes, worried about Jenny and no longer able to believe in Carl, Loni knew it was time to consider other options.

*  *  *

She squashed a handful of saltine crackers into the tomato soup to cool it, but the sight of white pieces floating in blood red was too much. Pushing the bowl away, she opened her laptop.

FROM: Loni Wagner

TO: Sandi@gmailyahoo.com

DATE: July 16

SUBJECT: Still here

Yes, I'm pretty sure Lola is straight. Too bad, because I could really get into her. Even so, she's got common sense and street smarts, and it's good to have a friend at the station.

Found more illegals today. Another dead baby. I went by to check on the heat stroke victim. It will be a long time before I forget the screams of agony from that poor woman. The cramps in her swollen muscles must have been terrible.

Had a good scare with a rattler today. Don't want to face that again. That's the second time a rattler has hit me, thank god for high top boots. The first time, the rattler nearly knocked me down. God, they hit hard. This time he couldn't get the height. Had to kill it. It was at the school and children could have been hurt.

At least I think I know who's trying to kill me. One of them, anyway.

I think our ricin answer is at Carl's ranch. With Teag's Hummer and Chief's robbery enough to get a warrant, I can't understand why Carl hasn't searched the place. If I can figure out a way to get in, maybe I will!

Take care of everyone.

Loni

CHAPTER 17

July 17, 2:30 a.m.

LONI HAD PULLED onto Old Highway 85 when the call came from Bobby. "Teenager reported dead," he said. "No confirmation. all night party ten miles out on Miller Road."

That tells me a lot, Loni grumped to herself, shaking her head at another one of Bobby's directions. Winding her way through the foothills, Loni dreaded what she would find ahead, another child lost. She rounded a sharp turn on a hill and dropped down onto a half circle of car headlights around a large bonfire off the road. She parked on the edge of the road and walked toward the lights. A silhouette pointed into the dark.

Loni followed car tracks to a boy who lay crumpled on the ground. He looked like he had been mauled by a bear, and the bent position of his head showed a broken neck. The front part of his shirt was torn away, and ribs stuck up through the lacerations. Probably broken legs and arms, but his untouched face was peaceful. Oh, god! It was Jimmy, Todd's brother, Bill and Janine Barclay's second son. She'd seen him less than a week ago at his brother's funeral.

She looked intently at the tire treads over Jimmy and knelt, checking the back tires of a GMC pickup. They matched.

Loni walked back to the group of kids huddled on the ground next to the bonfire. Flames reflected horror and anguish on their faces. A dark haired girl held a sobbing boy, rubbing his back as they rocked back and forth. Others sniffed and swatted at tears. Loni needed answers. She squatted down in front of the girl. "Tell me what happened."

A tall kid with crossed arms stood apart from them and pointed at the boy in her arms. "Paddy ran right over him. I had nothin' to do with it."

"God, Billy Joe. You're such a lying asshole!" the girl rocking Paddy flared out.

"Well, I didn't!" Billy Joe was belligerent.

"Who crowded Paddy off the road?"

"Shut up, Joy. Did I know Jimmy was there?"

"Did you care?"

Loni interrupted the hostile exchange. "Joy, tell me what happened."

"Billy Joe said he was going back to town to get more beer." She hesitated, rocking the boy in her arms. "Next thing I see, he's driving my truck without asking me. I didn't even know he got in it until I heard it start." She stared at Billy Joe again. "You fuck! Why didn't you drive your own car?"

"You weren't using yours!" Billy Joe sneered.

"Billy Joe," Loni warned him, "I'll get to you."

"We were in Paddy's car. We tried to stop him. I didn't want him driving my pickup. He started screwing around with us, driving in circles, then driving close and threatening to ram us. Jimmy ran out to stop him." Joy's voice quivered. "He only wanted to stop him."

"Wait a minute," Billy Joe interrupted. "I was barely off the road."

Loni squatted down in front of the two. "Paddy? Can you hear me?"

The sobbing boy nodded.

"Is that how you remember it?"

"Noooo." Paddy stretched it out between sobs. "He pushed me off the road. I was trying to get away from him, and I didn't see Jimmy!" He ended the name in a wail.

"You wouldn't drive that way in your fancy red car!" Joy screamed at Billy Joe.

Loni stood. "Anyone else see what happened?"

The group glanced around at each other. Finally a voice came out of the crowd. "None of us did. We were sitting around the fire."

Billy Joe started defending himself again as Loni photographed the ground and measured the tracks. She clearly heard his whiny voice as she traced where the pickup and car had swerved off the road. The tracks stopped just beyond the boy. EMTs were picking up the boy as she reached them to take more pictures.

The teenagers cried and argued as she wandered around the cars until she saw the Lamborghini. A fancy red-car, the girl said. She had heard about this car a little too often. Loni got names and phone numbers, one by one, before she called the parents to come get their kids. She called Chief to notify Jimmy's parents.

"Goddamn, girly. Can't you get anything right?"

The dark night was thick with fear and grief as the coroner and the ambulance slowly disappeared into the dark. Loni watched the parents gather their children. Only Dorothea seemed indifferent when she picked up Billy Joe. She impassively waited for him to get in her car and then drove off.

Loni made one more careful pass around the crime scene, searching through the cars before she let the parents pick them up.

*  *  *

As the last car rolled away, Bobby's voice broke into her thoughts again. "Dove hunters claim there's a dead body under Gimsom Bridge."

"Serious?"

"Here's the thing though. Sounds like one a Sly's whoppers. Said a one handed man on a horse was running straight out. They tried to stop him to ask where good hunting was. He told them he didn't have time to stop and chat. There was a dead man back under a bridge and he had to report it."

In a reaction to the horror surrounding her, Loni started laughing. "I know, I know," Bobby tried to shut her up. "But they don't believe me."

"What exactly did Sly say?" Loni listened to Bobby's voice murmur as he talked to someone in the background.

"I just told you. Said the guy told them he found a dead man under the bridge and had to go get help."

"Then what happened?" She heard more murmuring in the background.

"They said they turned around and went looking for the body but couldn't find anything. They think we should go see."

As soon as Loni could stop laughing, she said. "Tell them we'll take care of it. Any bars open this time of morning?"

"Just Billy the Kid. Open all night if you use the back door. Just don't tell Chief."

Grateful for the diversion, Loni drove to the back of the bar. Sure enough, a buckskin horse was tied to a sad looking mesquite tree. The saddle leaned against the wall's shadow next to the tree.

Opening the back door, Loni smelled the stale beer and piss. She sat on a bar stool beside Sly. He smelled more than a little horsey, and she moved down one stool before she spoke to him. "Heard from some dove hunters about a dead man under a bridge. That one of your lies?"

Sly said, "Yeah. Good one, huh?"

"They didn't think so. Said they looked a long time."

"So? Maybe they won't come hunting here again."

The barkeep puffed up. "We can open this early."

"I'm here to see Sly, that's all." Loni got off her stool and started walking away. There was nothing else to do.

"Buy me a beer?" he said to her back.

"Maybe another time." She kept on walking.

*  *  *

By the time Loni walked into the station, the others were gathering for the task force. As she sat down beside Tully, she thanked him for his research on the ricin. "You're sure Carl's renters are selling castor bean seedlings?"

"I'm a cop, aren't I?" Tully muttered out of the side of his mouth as James came in.

Carl walked in behind James and started the meeting. He appeared tired and drawn, and his wrinkled brown suit showed signs of neglect. Loni watched him fidget with a pen. "Chui, let's start with you. Did you find Teag? Or the Hummer?"

"No. Found the boss who said the Hummer belonged to him. Said Teag quit and left. Didn't know where he went," Chui continued. "Said he hoped he went straight to hell. Took things that didn't belong to him."

"Did he press charges? We could get a BOLO on him for theft."

"Nope."

Loni watched Carl's temper flare. "Well, shit, Chui, go get it!"

"I tried. He said he just wanted to forget it." Chui leaned back in his chair. "He offered me the guy's job. Pays more than this one."

Carl frowned. "If you don't find Teag soon, maybe you should take it." He looked down at his notes. "Rosie talking yet?"

"No." Chui sounded sullen

Carl studied Chui for a minute and turned to James. "James? Any connections to the couple yet?"

"No more than yesterday." James shifted in his chair and shoved a boot into Loni's ankle.

Sighing, Carl closed his notebook and stood. "Call me if anything breaks. Otherwise, see you all Monday."

After everyone scattered, Loni sat down behind the booking desk with Lola as she said sweet things to Coco. The brown fuzzy ball on the end of the dog's stubby tail swept the floor in short half circles, and her head rested on Lola's knee as she stared up with adoring eyes. Coco totally ignored Loni, and Loni ignored her back as she leaned back in her chair and relaxed. "It's nice around here with the boys gone."

"Cops do tend to be heavy on the testosterone."

"Hey, Lola. I heard that you work with Habitat for Humanity."

"Whenever I get some time off. It's fun."

"So you can really use a saw and hammer?" Loni had to grin at the image.

A flash of anger sparked in Lola's eyes. "You got something against girls in construction?" she snapped.

Loni laughed at her reaction. "God no! I think it's great!" She paused. "You doing anything Sunday morning?"

"Who's asking?"

"I am. Wondered if you were up to an adventure."

"Depends on the adventure." Lola sounded flirtatious.

"Pick you up about eight?"

"Is this a date?"

Loni blushed, too stunned to react.

Laughing at Loni's red face, Lola nodded and reached for a telephone message slip. With a quizzical look, she handed Loni the paper. "Third time she's called. Sure you don't have a new girlfriend?"

"What? Two-time you? Am I crazy?" Loni snickered, taking the paper. "God, I hope it's not another rape."

"You and me both." Loni was quiet a minute, watching Lola with Coco. "Can I ask a personal question?"

"No." Lola frowned at her.

"How come you're not married?"

"How come you're not?" Lola countered.

"Not legal yet?"

"That's true." Lola sighed. "What else you doing about the rapes?"

Loni hesitated. "I was told Chief was handling them. They've got nothing to do with our case."

Lola stared at Loni a minute. "That's it?"

Loni glanced around to see if she could be overheard. "Well, I could use your help, but it could get you in trouble."

Lola gave her famous "remember who you're talking to" stare and waited.

"Lab said last week they sent Chief the results of the first rape. Can you get it?"

Lola thought a minute. "That's weird. Must be in the locked drawer in his desk. I haven't seen it. I would have known, too, because it was Chickie." She nodded to Loni. "Soon as he goes to lunch, I'll find it."

"You've got a key?"

She got that look again.

"Got it. One other thing? Would you push the lab for Billy Joe's DNA test results?"

"I have been. You think he's the rapist, don't you."

Loni waited and then nodded.

"Can't you bring him in now?"

"No proof. No sure witnesses." She grimaced. "When I do, I'll let you book him." Standing up, Loni sighed. "I need to get home."

"I heard about Jimmy. I'm really sorry for the Barclays. I couldn't live with losing two children so soon."

"You want children?"

Lola gave her a cross-eyed look, waving her away as she laughed at Loni's perplexed expression.

Nodding goodbye as she pushed open the heavy doors to the outside, Loni walked into the wall of heat. Opening the door to let Coco into her truck, Loni let the door hang as she leaned against the side of her truck and called Jenny. It's too hot to get in and call, she thought as she rubbed Coco, listening to her pant.

"Aren't you ever going to ask me out?" Jenny said before Loni had a chance to say anything.

Dumbfounded, Loni forgot to close her mouth.

"Well?"

"I guess," Loni stuttered. "When and where?"

"How about tomorrow night? You don't have to work then, right?"

"Right."

"Good. See you at six. I'm cooking."

Loni heard the phone go dead. She got in her truck and drove in a daze back to the ranch.

*  *  *

Sundown found Loni back in town with her grandparents to shop. Everybody went to town on Saturday night payday. People visited, laughed, and bought their kids ice cream. Some of the women pulled their men out of the bars before the wages were gone.

Loni and Shiichoo meandered along the sidewalks following Bahb in and out of stores, stopping to hug and promising to drop by. "Hey, old man. You're not too old to carry," said Loni, joking about the sacks that they had piled in her arms.

"Been on earth much longer than you."

"So?"

"Stop it," Shiichoo told her. "You are too old to tease him."

"Well, crap, you buy heavy stuff." After years of teasing from white kids, Loni no longer felt ashamed to walk behind Bahb.

"Stop saying that word! How can you put that stuff in your mouth, child?"

Still, she wanted to whine for the hell of it. "If I have to stay behind him, he can at least help carry." Loni could see the sly smile on her granddad's face.

"How many times have I told you he walks ahead to protect us. I'm tired of saying it."

"But I'm the one with the gun, Shiichoo."

"And God help us," she said, "when they give girls guns."

"Shiichoo! You're a chauvinist!"

"Not either. You know I'm Apache."

Exasperated, Loni saw her granddad's grin get bigger. She knew they were both putting her on.

Loni watched Bahb stop and speak softly to a homeless man. He dropped a fifty-dollar bill in his box as he petted a tan, medium-sized, nondescript looking dog. It licked his hand in return. The transient appeared to be a young Navajo. He was dressed in reservation homemade clothes with sleeveless cotton shirt, blue pants, and hiking boots, and his knees and elbows were swollen and crooked. Maybe a bone disease.

After two more stores, Loni found another transient curled up asleep in the shade of the general store's overhang. This one was a gringo with long gray hair and beard. He clutched an old tin dipper cup. Loni couldn't remember the last time she had seen one like it. Wondering if she should drag his ass to jail, she watched her grandfather drop another fifty in his cup. "Hey," Loni told Bahb, following him in the store. "That won't help him. He'll just use it to get drunk."

Bahb looked at her. "What you see?"

Loni glanced around her. "The same things you see."

"Ni. You no look."

"So? Dropping a few bucks in his cup makes you a good Indian?"

"Good not what I give. That make me feel better. Good is I don't take." What the hell does that mean? Loni wondered as she followed him into the store.

At the meat counter, she watched Pat talk to a short, plump woman as he wrapped hamburger for her. Loni hoped his son Paddy was better after last night's ordeal. She watched a tall, skinny white woman with a tight salt-and-pepper bun on her head push in front of her. Loni waved to Pat that it was all right. Loni remembered her from last week. She was the Baptist preacher's wife, who had complained about an Indian passed out on the sidewalk. Said it was her duty to help keep the town clean.

"Just look down there." The woman had pointed to the south wall of the Last Chance bar where a pair of boots stuck out onto the sidewalk. "Look at those boots!" Loni remembered walking to the corner of the building and peeking around it to see a young Indian asleep in the sun. Loni had kicked his scuffed boots, saying, "Do you know where you are?"

The Indian finally sat up, lifting his head to look around. "Hell. Ain't I in Caliente?"

Loni had turned back to the woman. "Sounds sober to me." The woman harrumphed off as Loni helped the young man up. "Listen." She had pointed down the side road. "Go down to that corner. You can get a meal and a bed." Grimacing, she had added, "You could use a shower, too."

"Know where I can get a job?"

"Where you from?"

"Sacaton. And no, I ain't related to Ira Hayes."

Loni had laughed. "What kind of work do you do?"

"Know how to weld."

"Heard the blacksmith shop was looking for somebody to work on windmills. Go on and clean up. Jessie will tell you where the shop is."

"Thanks." He had ambled off.

As Loni left her recollections, she got even more pissed watching the woman push a young Mexican woman out of her way.

"Good thing you don't care," Shiichoo smirked at her watching the woman. "You carrying a gun and all."

"Go away," she told her grandma as she went back waiting for her grandparents to make up their minds about what to buy. Sometimes they never did and fussed at each other all the way back home.

Her grandma slowly cruised along the glass cases. Loni could see the preacher's wife trying to move her grandmother along. This should be fun, Loni thought. Unsuccessful, the woman circled around Shiichoo, ran her finger across the counter, and stared at it. Loni laughed at Pat's expression as he watched her finger travel over the countertop. "Find anything?" he asked her.

"Not yet," she answered, staring him down. She still looked dissatisfied. "What's your freshest meat today?"

"Got a nice cow tongue just in."

"Ech! I can't eat anything that came out of something's mouth!"

"Well then, I got some fresh eggs in this morning. Rangers, too." Pat pointed to the next cooler down. "How about a nice Spanish omelet for supper?"

Exchanging knowing looks with Pat, Loni watched the woman stomp out of the store.

"She'll be back," he said, "unless she wants that long drive to Tucson. Her husband's a really good guy. He's helped some people over at the church, but I swear he should throw that wife of his out with the rest of the trash."

Keeping an eye on her grandparents, Loni moved over and flipped through the board books while they shopped. She needed a birthday present for Maria's niece, who would turn two in a couple of weeks. Loni needed to stay a part of Maria's family.

The colorful books reminded her of the shopping sprees with Maria and her sisters. Loni preferred getting a Pap smear to shopping, but she went along. As if she had a choice! Maria loved going to shopping malls to marvel at all the shoes or sweaters or small appliances.

They had had fun gawking at unusual cooking utensils and guessing what they were used for. Loni remembered the citrus fruit knife, two blades sharpened on both sides at both ends of the handle. She lost that game but won another one when Maria couldn't guess the cherry pitter. Her reward was always amazing. Lost in her memory of tangled bodies moving in the dark of the night, it took Loni a minute to hear someone talking to her.

"Hey, looks like you could use this." Loni turned around to see Jenny standing there with a grocery cart.

Marveling at her feeling of excitement, Loni dumped her bundles into the cart. "Hey thanks. These are my grandparents," she said. "Shiichoo and Bahb. Jenny O'Neal."

"Hello," Jenny said. Quickly turning back to Loni, Jenny ignored her grandparents as she continued. "I'm shopping for dinner tomorrow night. Chicken sound good?"

Loni nodded, avoiding her grandparents 'stare.

"Good." Jenny's smile included only Loni as she turned and walked away.

*  *  *

Glad to be back at the loft even for only a few hours, Loni opened the door of the refrigerator. "Damn," she said to herself. "Daniel's been here again." All her tamales were gone. Slamming the door, she started through the cupboards. "Shit!" Finally she opened a can of chili con carne. Leaving the chili in a pan to heat up, she reached for saltine crackers. Taking out the soggy crackers from the open box, they almost fell apart in her hand. Oh well. She figured the chili wouldn't care. Grabbing the pot off the stove, the hot handle burned her and she dropped the pan, splattering chili all over the stove and down the front onto the floor. "Shit, shit, shit."

Cleaning up the mess, she was no longer hungry. It was another reason to miss Maria. She was a fantastic cook. Loni filled up on soggy crackers and went to bed.

FROM: Loni Wagner

TO: Sandi@gmailyahoo.com

DATE: July 17

SUBJECT: Still here

The bad news first. I'm hurting about Carl. I don't know whether he is incompetent or untrained or in denial. Or worse. Still haven't traced the ricin. But I'm seriously wondering about Carl's ranch. Security patrols on a ranch just aren't done around here. I'm sure they have the runway I spotted the other night.

Granddad can't drive in town any more. Local cops told him they would take his license if he did. As long as I can remember, he never stopped at stop signs or looked either way when he pulled out on a street. Last time he drove through a stop sign, my friend Clive stopped him. Of course, Bahb insisted he is a very careful driver. I agree he is slow. Like Clive said, when he finally stopped laughing, honking his way through stop signs does not make him a careful driver. So I'm driving them to town to shop.

I can't believe how old school Bahb is and how much he used to embarrass me. He always insists on walking in front of us wherever we go, on a sidewalk or into a store, making sure it's safe for us to enter. When I remind him I'm the one with the gun, he gives me this inscrutable stare and waves me back. Honestly! I think it's sweet. God help me if I ever tell him that.

Now for good news, I think. I'm about to get a rapist off the street. I'm sure the DNA will give me the proof I need. And I have a date with Jenny tomorrow night. She's cooking for me. That's a good thing, right? Do you realize how long it's been since I dated? Oh, wait. I don't think I've ever had a date. Somehow, Maria and I skipped that part. What does that say about me? Also, I think I'd rather be with Lola, but I need to forget about that.

Really good news. Shiichoo is feeling much better these days and nothing makes me happier.

Take care of you and yours.

Loni

Loni thought about the last thing Bahb said to her as she helped put away the groceries in the kitchen. "Your friend in store? She has empty eyes."

CHAPTER 18

July 18, 5:42 a.m.

LONI HADN'T BEEN on patrol long when a red-streak flashed from a dirt side road onto the county road in front of her. She briefly thought about chasing, but knew she didn't have a chance. Besides, she was more curious about why they were in such a hurry. She called Bobby about the speeding sports car and went back to where it had turned onto the pavement.

As she made her way along the rutted track where the low-slung sports car had left clouds of dust in the air, she wondered how it had kept from bottoming out. In the beam of her headlights, she saw a girl on the side of the road, struggling to stand. Loni jumped out of her SUV and ran to her. As she reached out to touch her, the girl swung at Loni, screaming "No" over and over.

"You're safe now, you're safe now," Loni kept repeating, keeping the tears out of her voice. Long, black hair was stuck in the congealing blood from the girl's bleeding slashed cheek and split lip that puffed out to one side. She held a torn purple shirt over her breasts and was naked below the shirt. Loni could see bruises and cuts running down her thighs. She looked as though someone had thrown her out of a moving car. The girl finally heard her and collapsed into her arms, crying, "They raped me! Oh, god! They raped me again!"

Loni helped her into her SUV and examined her in the overhead light while the girl buried her face in Coco's furry neck. Digging a pair of shorts out of her emergency bag, Loni handed them to the girl.

"What's your name?" Loni carefully drove the SUV up the road, and the girl wiggled into the shorts.

"Chickie Bodia."

"Chickie, can you tell me who did this?"

The girl hiccupped through sniffles, working to talk. "I saw Billy Joe's red car." She paused and cried out, "I hurt!"

"I know. We're almost to the clinic."

"Find Chelsa. I need to see Chelsa."

Loni parked next to the emergency entrance at the clinic and opened the door, but Chickie refused to let go of Coco. Flipping her phone open, Loni asked for Chelsa.

"Hey, it's Loni." She kept her voice low and quiet. "I'm at your door and need your help."

Chelsa was at the passenger door before Loni could hang up. "Chickie?" Chelsa gently pulled the girl out of the SUV. Loni followed them as they slowly walked into the clinic and disappeared behind a curtain.

*  *  *

It seemed a long time before Chelsa reappeared. "She was the first girl these bastards raped," she muttered in anger. Sighing, she rubbed her face. "She works in the clinic during the day. Admittance." She glared up at Loni. "Can't you stop these animals?"

"Yes," Loni reassured her. She turned to the door. "I'm picking them up right now!"

Lights flashing and siren screaming, she sped to Wagner Road, the glow of the hangar coming up fast. She cut the siren and the flashing lights before she pulled up in front of Dorothea’s house. Sleepy and disheveled, Dorothea answered the door. "Where's Billy Joe?" Loni demanded.

"Why?" Dorothea said defensively. "It was an accident. He didn't mean to kill Jimmy."

"No, it's not that."

"It's not about Jimmy?"

Dorothea grudgingly opened the door and motioned toward the living room.

"Which way is his bedroom?"

"Last door straight ahead." Dorothea pointed down the hall. "It's probably locked. He's got an outside entrance."

Loni failed to keep the fury out of her voice. "Get your kids and keep them in your bedroom."

Dorothea stared at her dully.

"Now!" Loni snapped.

The woman tightened the belt around her robe and disappeared down the hall. Loni heard a shuffling and then a lock turn.

Quietly, she walked up to the door where Dorothea had pointed. Standing to the side, she knocked. "Billy Joe, open up!" She knocked again and shouted, "It's the police."

"What?" a surly voice snarled. The lock clicked, and the door slowly opened. "I ain't done nothin'." He was dressed in Levis and a light yellow pearl-snapped button shirt. Dried blood was smeared across the front and down one sleeve. The red hair flopping in his eyes made it hard for Loni to read him.

"Billy Joe." Loni pushed him back into the room. "You're under arrest for rape."

"Balls! Nobody can prove nothin'!"

"Turn around." She waited while he tried to stare her down. His shoulders finally slumped in defeat, and his body crumpled as he turned around. Handcuffing him, Loni read him his rights and searched him. A sneer crossed his face as she ran her hands down his body. "You want some too, bitch?"

"You're not getting out of this one." She hauled him out of his room.

Dorothea was peering through a crack in her bedroom door.

"Stay out of Billy Joe's room," Loni told her. "I need to get a search warrant." Loni wondered how many pairs of panties she would find. "You should call his father."

*  *  *

"Where'd you get your 'Come to Mama' plant?" Loni asked Billy Joe as she shoved him into the back of the SUV.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you do. You gave it to Todd."

"Oh, that shit. Coach said it came from the O'Neal farm." Billy Joe turned belligerent. "He said it wasn't illegal. They grow all kinds of sex stuff."

"Like what else?"

"I don't know. I only tried a few." He snickered.

Loni waited. Billy Joe couldn't keep his mouth shut. "Ginseng really got my juices going. And Horny Goat Weed. Want me to tell you how I used them?"

"And the meth?"

"What meth?"

"The meth you gave Todd," Loni snapped.

"No, no, no. That was coach. I don't touch that shit."

Loni let that question go. "Why Mexican girls?"

"You stupid breed." Eyes flashing, he stuck out his chin. "That's how you got here, isn't it? Mixin' white in to improve the gene pool? Bet your old man raped your mother. Maybe he even killed her."

God help us. More Billy Joes were the last thing this world needed. She wished he would threaten her so she could beat the crap out of him.

Billy Joe shut up for the rest of the ride to the station. She jerked him out of the SUV and pushed him into the building. He seemed to shrivel with each step. "Bobby," Loni called out as she entered the building. "I'm putting Billie Joe in the holding tank until Lola gets here. Can you ring her? I promised her the honor of booking him."

Shoving Billie Joe into the small, hot room, she uncuffed him and clanged the door shut behind him. She opened it and clanged it shut again. "Hear this sound, Billy Joe? You better get used to it." For the hell of it, she clanged it one more time.

"Chief won't like this," Bobby said when she came back down.

"Do I care? Don't let him out, Bobby. Chief's got no jurisdiction over this one. We got a witness and DNA on this kid for at least four rapes."

*  *  *

The rest of Loni's patrol was long and quiet. She got back to the station in just in time to hear Chief ranting at Bobby.

"Don't blame Bobby." She walked up behind them.

Chief whirled, the veins in his neck pulsing as his face flushed red. "You bitch," he raged at her. "This isn't your case. I'm turning him loose."

"You do, and I'll arrest you for interference."

"You're fired!" he yelled, spittle hitting her in the face.

"Chief, I don't work for you," She wiped off the spittle with a kerchief that she pulled out of her pocket.

He raised his arm, his hand in a fist. Bobby grabbed Chief's arm and pulled him into his office. "You don't want to do that, Chief," he said gently. It was a long time before the two came out, and Chief did not meet her eyes as he left the building.

"What did you say to him, Bobby?"

"You look beat. Want me to send Tully for the other two boys who helped Billy Joe rape the girl?"

"Changing the subject?"

"You need to go home soon," Bobby reached out to her. "Lola said she'd be right here." Dropping his arm, Bobby returned to his stool behind the counter.

"Wait, Bobby. Can you leave an order for a search warrant on Billy Joe's room?"

"Sure. I'll get it ready for Lola to take to the judge."

At her desk, Loni laid her head down on her arms, exhausted. Coco curled up at her feet and was soon snoring. They were both still there when Lola shook Loni's shoulder.

"I'm not sleeping."

"You snore awake?"

"I don't snore," Loni said.

"How would you know?"

"None of your business. Anyway, I've got a present for you. It's upstairs with the rest of the rat dung."

"Bobby said you picked up Billy Joe." She looked at Loni's face quizzically. "Not before he attacked another girl, I gather."

"It's Chickie."

"Oh god, how is she?"

"She's at the clinic."

"I've got to go." Lola was already at the door when Loni hollered to her back. "What about Billy Joe?"

"You book him," she returned. "I'd kill him."

*  *  *

Loni's feelings raced between relief and regret as she drove home. Bobby was right. Billy Joe would be gone a long time. She wished it didn't have to be that way. If only the DNA had been back sooner, she could have saved Chickie this last horror. If only Billy Joe had been in jail and not been in Joy's pickup, she could have saved Jimmy Barclay. If wishes were horses...

*  *  *

Loni hung out with Daniel, handing him tools while he worked on a helicopter. Smelling him and listening to the cadence of his voice always helped her relax. It was like surrounding herself with clean, rich earth.

"Daniel? You know you're part Choctaw?"

"Sure. I read our grandparents' history too."

"Did James?" Loni asked curiously.

"I don't know. Want me to tell him?"

Loni shrugged. "Might be interesting to see his reaction."

"Oh, yeah." Climbing in, Daniel fiddled around with the controls.

"Wanna go?"

"Know how to fly this thing?"

"Wanna find out?"

"Where you going?"

"Up, o'course!"

"I don't think so," Loni frowned. "Heard Charley Rankin skidded up to the gas station the other day and said, 'Give me a gallon of gas and a map of Texas. I'm takin' a long trip.' Think I'd get further going with him."

Loni collected the tools and put them away as Daniel started the engine. Watching him get ready to taxi out the huge hangar door, Loni hollered, "Isn't it too hot to get lift?"

"Don't know." Loni got Daniel's usual cocky grin as he hollered back. "Guess I'll go find out. Sure you don't want to come along?"

Crossing her fingers behind her back, Loni watched him taxi out and slowly rise in the air, waving to her as he turned and flew away. She climbed up to the loft, trying not to worry. Rene's plane wreck could have been Daniel or Uncle Herm. Settling for a long cold shower, Loni pushed her worry into a dark hole and covered it up.

FROM: Loni Wagner

TO: Sandi@gmailyahoo.com

DATE: July 18

SUBJECT: Still here

I was finally able to arrest Billy Joe for rape. I guess that's all I have to say.

Loni

CHAPTER 19

July 19, 7:20 a.m.

ON HER WAY OUT of the loft, Loni grabbed the box of sopapillas that Shiichoo had made the night before. Uncle Herm was sitting at the kitchen table reading the paper and drinking a cup of coffee when she walked in. His broken down straw hat rested beside his coffee cup with a pair of scissors and an empty cereal bowl.

Dropping the box in front of him, Loni picked up his hat and hung it on the rack by the door. "Has Mae given up about your hat on the table or is she gone?"

"Give that back to me," Uncle Herm said. "Planned on cutting it up for cereal this morning," he said. "Just as soon as Mae shows up."

"You're not serious."

"You should see what she's been makin' me eat. I'm tired of healthy shit." He opened the box. "Oh, wow!" His expression was like a kid with candy as he took a sopapilla out of the box. "Jam or honey?" he asked as he opened his mouth to take a bite.

"No! No! No!" Mae rushed in, yanking it out of his hand and putting it back in the box.

"Man," Uncle Herm whined as Mae handed the box back to Loni while she stared Herm down. "Now there's a loud look!"

"I can do louder. With the back of my hand," Mae said.

"Then I guess I better not tell you about..."

Mae hollered at him again. "Damn it, Herm. What part of 'no' don't you understand?"

Loni watched in total confusion as Mae turned to her. "Bet he didn't tell you he's a diabetic now." Her curls stuck up at odd angles, and her housecoat was buttoned crooked.

Shocked, Loni stared at Uncle Herm as a chagrined expression spread on his face. "No. Of course not. When did that happen?"

Uncle Herm shrugged. "A couple of years ago."

"His dad died of diabetes. It blinded him and destroyed his liver before he died," Mae harangued Herm as she tried to brush her hair with her fingers.

"Hello the house!" A voice came from outside.

"Hello the house?"

"I'll be right back, so watch it." Mae rushed out of the room.

Uncle Herm laughed. "That's Essey Rigall. You remember."

"Sure," Loni said. "He ranches up around the Eagletails."

Uncle Herm got up, opened the door, and hollered back, "Come on in, Essey."

It had been over fifteen years since she had seen the tall, broad man who stood at the door turning his hat in his hands. Brown as her granddad, he was bowed from too many years working cattle, and broken bones had left him with a bad limp. White scars on his bald head showed where skin cancer lesions had been burned off. Between cleaning his feet and hanging up his hat, Essey was so slow getting into the kitchen that Mae was already back, hair brushed and housecoat buttoned right.

She handed him a cup of coffee, and he leaned over to give her a peck on her cheek. "Mae. I always loved you best of all." He sighed, sitting down. "Herm got the pick of the litter with you."

"Essey, you know my niece, Loni."

"Last time I saw you, you were just a tyke at your daddy's knee." He gave her a sweet smile as Loni grinned back.

"Just in time for breakfast, Essey. How many eggs?"

"Three. With bacon. Four without."

"Bacon it is. Loni?" Mae asked.

"Let me help."

"Essey, you're aways from the ranch," Uncle Herm probed.

"Came to get Mae to run away with me," he said with an infectious laugh. "I remember the girlfriend you had afore Mae," he continued. "Used to court her after midnight when the rest of you boys had gone home. I'd stand outside and sing to her." He turned to Mae, who was frying the bacon. "I could sing for you."

Uncle Herm shook his head. "You were the only man I knew who did all his courting after midnight."

"Well, I got tired of havin' to whup all you boys. So I started a waitin' til you left.

"Which one was she?" Mae asked.

"Oh," Essey answered, "that's the one I married. I remember the first place we lived, right across from that old one room shack they called a schoolhouse. You remember that school, Mae?"

"Yes," Mae smiled. "But I never heard you went to school there."

 Essey chuckled. "I was seven before I started. I was so shy I never said one word for two weeks. Then this young feller, a Baptist minister, asked me if I didn't want to take my coat off and started in to help me. Well, I jerked away and said, 'I don't need no help. I can take off my own goddamn coat.'" He grinned at the three of them laughing at him. "I got sent home and didn't go back no more that year."

"It was only open two more years before they built the brick school. I don't remember hearing you went there either."

"Well, I did finish at that shack. I only went to be with you," Essey teased her. He turned to Uncle Herm. "But then my brother whupped her brother and she didn't like me no more."

Mae giggled. "Essey, that wasn't me. I wasn't even born then. Besides, you didn't have a hard time with the girls.

"They all loved me. Wimen were always good to me. I met Granny in Caliente at a church social."

"How's your wife, Essey?" Mae asked. "Heard she was doing poorly and you moved her to town." She placed plates in front of the men and poured another cup of coffee for herself. Loni took two more plates to the table.

"Yup. Found a real good place. Right between the doctor and the church. Granny's quite a churchgoer, you know." Essey grinned. "Can't remember ever seeing you in church, Herm."

"You didn't. We ran and hid in the brush before they could catch us."

"No wonder you buncha kids grew up outlaws." Essey chewed a piece of bacon. "Good bacon."

"Has she been to the new church?" Mae asked. "Heard everyone likes the minister."

"Oh, yes. Granny likes them refined ladies there. They have tea doings and all. They were at our house one day last week, all setting around and talking. I walked into the house and looked around at all them wimen and said, "Look at all them purty legs!"

"How come Pearl let you live?"

"Oh, she was a little upset, but she didn't say much. I get bothered some when I think about them refined ladies. If an atom bomb came, I don't know what they would do. Why, if one of them gets a run in her sock or three flies in her house, she's all blowed up. If they're all goin' up yonder, I'd rather not go there." Essey picked up his cup. "I came by to get help with a windmill," he said to Uncle Herm. "Got some time?"

"What windmill?"

"The Woodmanse 45 up at Montezuma well. Raul called and said it quit pumping and he had to bring the mother cows down. He don't know why."

"That's the one with the red tips on the blades?"

"Yep." Essey got up and set his plate and cup in the sink.

"I can get there Monday." Uncle Herm followed Essey out the door. "It's a pretty rare windmill around here now. Hard to find parts."

As Loni put dishes into the dishwasher, she felt like she was in a time warp.

*  *  *

Following Lola's directions, Loni stopped in front of a two-story house surrounded by large eucalyptus trees. The limbs reaching across the roof shaded the wide porches circling three sides of the house with a roof that served as a deck for the second floor. Behind the house, tall date and fig trees lined a ditch that ran along a lane leading to a barn and a long row of flat-roofed buildings with garage doors. The yellow of the newly painted house trimmed with teal made a nice combination.

Loni was staring at the bright red front door just as Lola banged out and trotted up to her truck. She opened the passenger door. "Where's the ladder?"

"Pretend you're mountain climbing. You can make it."

"Not gracefully." Lola grimaced, reaching for the handle. Watching her pull herself up into the truck, Loni admired the cleavage revealed by her sleeveless red blouse and the tight dark blood-red pants that flared to accommodate short white boots.

"Might wear bigger britches. What are those, size six?"

"How sweet," Lola patted Loni's cheek. "I haven't seen size six since I was ten years old." Straining to close the reluctant door, Lola laughed as Loni tried to coax the truck to start. "Are you sure this thing has an engine? Where did you ever find it?"

Loni glanced over at Lola as she waited to try again. "Butch belonged to my partner. I needed something to move my crap home in, so I sold my car."

"Butch?"

"Don't look at me. My partner named her." After few choice words, the truck finally started. Loni pulled away slowly, turning onto the road.

"That's the one who died."

"Yes."

"She the reason you left here?"

"Nope. Met her in Portland, Oregon. We went to college together." Loni sighed.

"So, why did you leave here?"

"Thought being Indian would be easier somewhere else." Loni shifted into fourth. "I always wanted to live by the sea. Seemed a good place to go to school."

Lola didn't say anything else until Loni turned onto Old Highway 85 and the truck bounced along on the badly patched cement, sprouting more rattles and bangs.

"Aren't these things supposed to be dangerous? Something about a bad rollover rate?"

"Only to the people riding in them."

"Cute." She frowned at Loni and sat silently a minute, arms crossed across her chest. "I should have worn a bra."

Loni chuckled. "Ah, crap. Just roll 'em up and hang on."

"Why is it making that knock -knock -knocking noise?"

Loni laughed at her imitation of the sound. "I think Butch is about to throw a rod."

"Exactly what does that mean?"

"It means that I had better get an overhaul soon or I'll be walking."

Lola had a quizzical look. "How soon is soon? Don't these things have guarantees that last for years?"

"Some do."

"How many miles is your guarantee?"

"Fifty thousand, I think," Loni said after she thought a minute.

"How many miles do you have?"

Loni looked down and read the odometer. "Fifty-thousand, eight-hundred and two."

Laughing, Lola finally managed to say, "Well, it made it."

"Bite me," Loni retorted, joining in Lola's laughter. I can’t help it if it was rode hard and put away wet."

*  *  *

The abandoned motel at the edge of town was a blight on the main approach to town, yet the light-red adobe walls glowing behind the graffiti stood strong. So did the roof. Made from clay in Old Mexico, the tile ran across the roof in even red waves, and the old adobe wall surrounding the motel had only a few crumbled places and holes to patch.

That's where it ended. Loni parked in front of the office and eyed Lola. "You ready for this?" They wandered through every room, checking them out. Fixtures, cabinets, and bathrooms were stripped away, along with ceiling boards. The wood floors were badly scarred. The windows were either broken or gone. Still, it was a starting place.

"A very long time ago I stayed here a week one night."

Loni frowned in her in confusion.

"Well, it seemed that way," Lola continued. "I had just walked out on my husband. He beat the shit out of me, and I needed to clean up before I went home."

Loni stared at her with horror.

"So," Lola said matter-of-factly, "it's gonna cost a pile, but I think it would be cost effective to rebuild."

"Labor's a big problem, but we don't have to have all the rooms ready to open. Maybe get the office area first and let a family live there to help with the grunt work. Shovel the rubble out and clean it up for construction."

Lola pulled a small notebook from her pocket. "Get bids from electricians, plumbers, sheet rockers. Count the windows and doors. Figure fixtures for bathrooms and kitchens."

Loni added, "Cabinetry. Refinish the floors. Paint. Find cheap furniture. Clean out the swimming pool and repair it. Fence it." Lola looked up. "How many rooms did we count?"

"Twenty-four."

"Twenty-four bathrooms and kitchenettes." Lola scribbled in her notebook.

"How many doors and windows in each?"

"Two doors and four windows."

Lola kept writing.

"Count one more door." Loni said. "Those garages in between could be turned into bedrooms. Maybe windows on one side."

"Only dry rot is around the windows. They need to be reframed. And we need to make adobe bricks. I have a kiln in my backyard to bake them in."

"How did you learn so much?"

"My dad and brother are contractors." Lola turned and stepped on Loni's foot.

Loni caught Lola to keep her from falling and held her a few seconds, reluctant to let go. This feels too good, she thought, wondering what it would feel like to kiss Lola. Loni backed up a step, mortified at what she was thinking. First time since Maria died, and it has to be a straight woman. Loni tried to replace Lola's face with Maria's, but her features were dimming in Loni's mind. She couldn't feel Maria's skin either or hear her voice anymore. She could look at Maria's photo to remember what she looked like, but she didn't have a recording of her voice. Crap! Just forget it. She tried to push the thoughts out of her mind and focus on what Lola was saying.

"Sorry," Lola laughed as she unwound from Loni and moved toward the open door. "Are you really up to this?"

Loni wondered exactly what she meant. Probably just the motel. "Figure the cost first and we can decide then."

"Guess this means we'll have to spend a lot of time together."

"Think you can put up with me?"

"Sure. Just as long as you do it my way!" Lola laughed at Loni's expression of dismay.

The truck pulled out of the motel driveway and picked up speed, loud noises ratcheting up as the large tires sang on the cement road.

"That was thirsty work," Lola shouted.

"Where do you want to go?"

"How about McDonald's?"

"Sure." She drove back up Old Highway 85 and pulled into the drive through. "A medium Coke, please, and a —?" Loni turned to Lola.

"Diet Coke."

"And a medium diet Coke."

A girl with stringy brown hair handed Loni the Cokes. Loni searched for the indentation on the lid before she turned back to the girl. "Which one's the diet?"

The girl stared back at Loni with a blank expression. "The one with the pushed in star on the lid."

"Which one? No indents here." Loni showed the Coke lids to the girl.

The girl leaned out the window and pushed on one of the lids. "Now it does."

Loni handed the indented Coke to Lola as she pulled away. She and Lola tasted their Cokes, sputtered and traded. "Good thing I left my gun at home." Loni laughed.

"Do you hunt?"

"Only people."

"Get serious. How many people have you actually killed?"

"Well. None," Loni said sheepishly.

"So? You're desert bred. Why don't you hunt?"

"I remember Uncle Herm taking me hunting for white wing. He used me for a bird dog. I got to this one bird and picked it up, still alive. I saw the fear and terrible pain in its eyes. Something in me left with that warm creature that day and never came back." Loni got lost in the memory. "Never hunted again."

Lola was quiet a minute. "Do you really live in an airport hangar?"

"Doesn't everybody?"

"Seriously."

"Well, yes. But I also spend a lot of time with my grandparents," Loni added.

"Where do they live?"

"Just up Wagner Road a few miles."

Lola snorted. "I forgot you have a road named after you."

"Not me. It's my great grandfather Wagner who homesteaded."

"Well then. Let's go up Wagner Road. I want to see your home."

Loni blurted out, "Now?"

Lola arched her eyebrows. "Why? You didn't make your bed?"

Shrugging, Loni admitted, "I don't remember. Which bed do you want to see?"

"Describe them and then explain why anybody would live in two places in the teeny, tiny same town. I can't keep up with one." Lola paused. "Come to think of it, I'm not sure I made my bed, either."

"Mostly the bed I use is in a loft apartment above my uncle's office in the airplane hangar. I spend my spare time at the ranch."

"You own a ranch?" Lola arched her eyebrows.

"Well, sort of, but I really feel it belongs to my grandparents. I feel like I've been a visitor since I left for college."

"But it's in your name?"

"It belonged to my dad. He inherited the ranch part, and my uncle inherited land for his airport. My mother died when I was born so my dad talked her parents into coming off the rez to take over the ranch and raise me. Since he was German, he wanted me raised at home, but he hurt too much to stay around. My aunt Mae was too sick to take me. My dad wandered a few years, prospecting, mostly mining. The times he came home were the best days of my life. Just after my fourteenth birthday, we heard he was killed in a mine cave-in."

"Have you been to the mine?"

"Not yet," Loni said.

"Well then, maybe we should do that someday."

Stunned into silence by the "we," Loni turned off Old Highway 85 and onto Wagner Road, pointing at the ranch headquarters in the distance.

They drove up to the main gate, and Loni got out and opened it. She motioned for Lola to drive through. After a bit of arm-waving and head shakings, Lola finally scooted over to the driver's seat and drove forward very slowly. Closing the gate, Loni got back in the driver's seat, and they moved on.

"Why aren't you ranching?"

"Among other reasons, running enough cattle to survive in today's market destroys the desert. I didn't want that."

"You're serious?"

Loni nodded as she pulled into the barnyard under a salt cedar tree. As much as she hated the salt dripping on her truck, getting back into a burning cab was worse.

Lola followed Loni through large double sliding doors into the barn. Tools, tractors, carts, and wagons lined one side of the building with stock pens on the other. In the center, Willie hauled hay out of the loft with a pulley and settled the bales onto a small trailer behind a green John Deere tractor.

"Hey, Willie. You know Lola?" Willie ducked his head with a shy smile. Loni looked around for Flossie. "Where's Flossie?" Her voice rose in panic.

"Out in last corral."

"She's better then?"

Willie leaned on a bale. "Still some sick."

"I'm driving, Willie." Loni climbed onto the tractor. She reached over to pull Lola up beside her. "Fenders make great seats." After Willie climbed up on the hay trailer, Loni slowly pulled through the open back barn doors and drove onto the lane between the cattle pens.

Inching the trailer along the lane between the feed pens, Loni watched Willie break up the bales and toss pats of hay into the troughs. Big cow heads stuck out through the board fence into the troughs, pushing at each other to reach the feed. Shaking the hay, they worried holes through the hay, feeding from the bottom.

Willie talked to the mother cows as he fed them, and Loni explained the process to Lola. "In a good spring, Bahb buys a few half Brahma steers from Old Mexico. Profit's in the weight gain, so he mostly raises his own and sells the steers at two years." Loni could see Lola calculating again. "Desert cows can produce eight to ten calves in their lifetime. In the bunch the Millers took, there were fourteen two-year-old steers ready for market that we didn't get back. Those steers were probably a $12,000 loss. It's money that helps pay the bills through the year. I always sent them something every month to help them get by."

"But you caught the thieves?" Lola asked.

"These are the mother cows they took. But they already sold the steers. Without a brand, they're long gone."

"Why aren't they branded?"

"Bahb won't inflict pain on any living thing unless it's absolutely necessary for its well being."

"What about the loss?" Lola looked worried.

Loni shrugged. "I'll help them deal."

"So, how big is the ranch?"

"The house sits on a section of titled land. Twenty-two sections of Taylor Grazing are attached to that."

"Taylor grazing?"

"In Arizona, most of the land belongs to the government," Loni explained.

"Does the government charge you?"

"I think I heard it's about a dollar and fourteen cents a month now for every cow that grazes the desert."

"That's not much," Lola said.

"Maybe not. But all the little things whittle away."

Lola watched Willie as the cattle tossed and nosed the hay. "Isn't he too old to do that?"

"Does it seem hard for him?"

Lola watched him heave another bale down. "Well no."

Loni stopped in front of a pen filled with cow manure scraped out of the pens and pushed into a pile nearly a story high waiting for spring planting.

Lola gripped Loni's shoulder and started laughing as she pointed to a large black-spotted white bull spread out on the top of the manure pile, flapping large ears as he gazed down on the cows. "Do you suppose he thinks he did that all by himself?"

"Nah. That's Brutus, Bahb's Beefmaster bull. He's surveying his kingdom."

Lola turned and pushed at Loni. "My line was funnier."

The huge bull turned his head and benignly stared down at them. "He may look like he's full of shit," Loni warned Lola, "but don't turn your back on him. He was mistreated when he was young, and he's a mean sucker. Bahb's working to gentle him, but he's not totally turned around yet."

"I've never heard of a Beefmaster. Looks Brahma to me."

"He's a mixture of Hereford and Brahma. This breed can travel further for water and food and gain the most. Really good in droughts."

Across from Brutus, Loni spotted Flossie and climbed down before helping Lola off. "Take the tractor back, okay?" she asked Willie, opening the gate for Lola.

"Walk real slow right behind me," Loni told her. "Don't make any sudden moves." She abruptly stopped, and Lola bumped into her.

"What?"

"Just waiting for her to see us." Loni listened to the cow's mournful bawl.

"Why is she crying like that?"

"She's hurting. The Millers left her in a jumping cactus patch. We've been shaving places and pulling needles for days." Loni slowly walked up to Flossie, talking in a low voice. The cow watched from her good eye and shied a step away as Loni checked her over for festering bumps on her legs and chest. "Much better." She showed Lola the shaved places scattered in the brindle overcoat plugged with black patchwork. Flossie's bad eye had been removed, and a bandage covered the empty socket.

Leading Lola through a solid wood gate bleached grey from the sun, Loni stuck her fingers in her mouth and whistled. Three heads shot up, and three large bodies trotted toward them as if they were shackled together. Untying the baling wire on a bale, Loni spread the hay out.

The three grew bigger with each step, especially Stonewall. Lola started backing to the gate. "My god, he's big! Should we run?"

"Where to? If he wanted, he could jump flat-footed over any fence here."

"Fine then. I'll get behind you so he'll get you first." She clutched the back of Loni's shirt.

"What's that old joke?" Loni laughed at her. "All I have to do is outrun you."

"Not if I beat you to the gate."

"Hey, Stonewall." Loni kept talking as he came, head down, reaching the hay with an abrupt stop, already chewing. The two horses joined Stonewall, and Loni rubbed each head.

Donnie and his little brother Rolfe ran up. Donnie sidled up to Stonewall. "Can I ride him? Please!" he begged.

Loni gave him a leg up while Lola panicked. "Don't put him up there. What if he gets hurt?"

"This bull's a Brahma," Loni said. "They're the gentlest creatures in the world." Lola hid behind her, watching a laughing Donnie as he climbed all over Stonewall, sat on his hump for a minute, and finally slid down on his tail. With huge eyes, Rolfe hid behind Lola and stared at the bull.

"Is his name really Stonewall?"

Loni glanced at Lola, wondering why she was asking. "Well," she said cautiously, "he's built like a stone wall, and he looks like a stone wall so he must be a stone wall."

"Who named him?"

"I did."

"Really." Lola had a small knowing smirk as she reached out to pet him. Stonewall raised his massive head and Lola jerked her hand back but didn't give ground. Rolfe screamed and held onto Lola's leg as his brother giggled at him.

"Look, Rolfe." Donnie reached up to pat Stonewall's hump.

"Remember to rub, not pat," Loni said to him. "Animals think you're hitting them if you pat. "Feel." She held Rolfe's hand up to the bull's nose. "It's like velvet. They feel through their noses, so let him sniff you."

"No!" Rolfe jerked away from Loni and scooted back behind Lola again.

Loni reached out to Roanie, rubbing his ears. "This ugly thing belongs to me. I really missed him while I was gone."

As Stonewall shook his massive head, his huge ears made a whapping noise, and hay flew everywhere. Rolfe started crying. Lola held onto Rolfe's small body, as he reached out to take Donnie's hand. Rolfe nearly pulled him off his feet as he jerked on Donnie, pulling him back through the gate, and they ran toward home.

Loni's cell phone rang. It was Jenny. "No, I'll take a rain check," Loni said. "Are you okay?" Loni hung up beaming. "My date just cancelled!"

"You sound happy about that."

Loni couldn't make eye contact. "I like where I am."

"It's hard to date again after such a loss." Lola stuffed her hands in her jean pockets and watched Willie turn the tractor around. She waved at Willie as he disappeared down the lane. "Wait a minute. Isn't that our ride?"

"One of them." Loni reached for Stonewall's halter and led him to a wooden fence. "It's time to get out of the sun. We can ride Stonewall back to the barn."

"Oh, goody." Lola watched Loni climb the fence. "I always did want to ride a Brahma bull."

Swinging onto Stonewall, Loni reached her hand down to Lola.

"You ride. I'll walk."

"Come on. Even Donnie gets on him."

"That's because he's young, stupid, and a boy."

"It's better than getting cow shit on those pretty white boots."

Lola winced with dismay. "What the hell." From the top of the fence, she held onto Loni's hand and gingerly slid on behind her. "If this doesn't work out, you owe me your firstborn."

Trying not to laugh, Loni sputtered, "There's no chance of that."

"You don't want children."

"I've never thought it was a good idea," Loni admitted.

"Did your girlfriend want kids?"

"Maria? Thousands. She came from a big family." Loni’s eyes misted just a little.

"So what happened?"

"You're a straight girl. It's a whole lot easier for you."

Lola laughed. "Who said I was straight?"

"Everybody."

"Maybe I go out of town to play."

"They say you like camping," Loni teased.

"In the summer? Are you crazy?"

"They say you have a boyfriend working as a fishing guide in the White Mountains."

"I have a cousin working as a guide and I camp with him as often as I can. It's so beautiful up there."

"So what are you saying?" Loni turned, trying to see into Lola's eyes to see if she was teasing her.

"Just because I don't wrap myself in rainbows like you...."

"What? I don't even have a rainbow on my truck," Loni said in mock anger. "I did stand in a rainbow one time."

"You are so full of it, I never know when to believe you."

"It's true. Really. I was sliding down a sand dune and it was right in front of me. I thought it was going to disappear as I slid into it, but it didn't. The colors almost faded away, but the water shards sparkled all around me like tiny stars." Loni's expression softened with the memory.

"How did it make you feel?"

Loni stared at Lola. "You're the first person who ever asked me that." Loni thought a minute, hunting for words to explain. "Special," she decided. "Very, very special."

"I suppose you've seen the famous green flash from the sun setting on the ocean?"

"Twice." Loni smirked at her.

"You really loved the ocean, huh? Why did you leave?"

Loni sighed. "Following my tail."

Lola patted her shoulder, laughing at her. "Of course you were." At the barn door, Stonewell automatically stopped. "We could have walked back faster than he moved."

"Need help getting off?" Loni was sorry to lose the warmth on her back. I could use more of that, Loni realized, surprised at the tingling down her body. Lola hung on to her leg while she dropped to the ground. Rubbing Stonewall's nose, she thanked him for the ride.

At the screen door, Coco jumped up and tried to lick Lola in the face. "Well, shit," Loni told her. "Coco never greets me that way." Loni led her into the cool kitchen and introduced her to Shiichoo.

"I see where you get your beautiful eyes, now."

"She used to have my hair." Loni reached to pat Shiichoo on the head. “But I was never that skinny."

"Piffle." Shiichoo stuck a potato peeler in her hand. "You best get to peeling and slicing those potatoes," Shiichoo muttered. "Shouldn't fun an old lady."

"Piffle? Is that Apache?"

"Now child!"

For the next hour, Loni mostly stayed out of the way and watched Lola and Shiichoo cook. Ham-stuffed chicken, Apache Indian bread, Gesatho, Apache wojape, and rosemary blue-cheese scalloped potatoes, the last as a concession to Loni.

Lola went to the bathroom before they sat down to eat.

"I can tell you like Lola." Shiichoo smiled at Loni. "So do I. Have you asked her out?"

"She's straight," Loni said sadly.

"Really? She said it right out?"

Confused, Loni couldn't come up with a retort before Bahb and Willie came in and Lola returned. She introduced Lola to Bahb. Everybody was talking at once as they always did before sitting down to eat. Loni breathed deeply and let the warmth flow around her. God, she had missed this. For the first time, Loni felt she had truly come home.

*  *  *

In the heat of the setting sun, shadows of the saguaros' arms stretched out across the desert like an army in retreat as Loni stopped in front of Lola's house.

"Your grandma is really glad to have you home."

"Not entirely. She knew why I left. She held me often enough while I cried." Loni was quiet for a few minutes. "I asked her one time if I went to the Catholic church, could I be a Mexican. I reasoned since Mexicans were a mix of Indian and Spanish, I was half acceptable. They had friends and lots of fun. If you want to go to church, go, she told me. Bahb will take you. So I went a few Sundays, but I didn't make any friends. I didn't go back."

"Clans are fragile. Let one new person in and someone usually gets resentful. Like a dog pack circling the new one."

"I know what you're saying. They'll either invite you to sit at the table or make you the main course," Loni said harshly.

"I think you should kill this truck and get it out of its misery." Lola struggled with the door.

"It got you there." Loni watched Lola slide down onto the driveway.

Rolling her eyes at Loni, she retorted, "Not without damage."

Glowing inside, Loni waited until the red front door closed behind Lola.

*  *  *

Wishing she had been brave enough to ask Lola if she was putting her on, Loni's thoughts roamed through the day as she drove home at a snail's pace and got ready for bed at the same speed. She picked up her laptop, thinking writing to Sandi would slow down her mind from turning like a squirrel in a cage as she thought about Lola. But no matter what, she couldn't stop feeling hope. Bahb was right. Hope changed everything. And somehow she thought Maria would approve.

FROM: Loni Wagner

TO: Sandi@gmailyahoo.com

DATE: July 19

SUBJECT: Maybe looking a little

I had an outstanding day with my friend Lola. We explored an old motel we might renovate where illegals can stay until they're able to move on. We have an agreement with Mexico that says anyone who helps catch a coyote can apply to stay in the U.S. I'm going to find many ways to use that law. Won't the conservative right shit over that? I am so tired of their family values crap when it is so obvious they don't give a shit about any other family but their own. What kind of value is that?

The day ended having supper with the family. Shiichoo even let Lola help her cook. Willie actually talked to her, eye contact and all. I nearly fell off my chair watching.

Kiss everyone goodnight for me.

Loni

Loni began to dream of Maria again. Loving in the night. They were sweet talking as tongues locked and hands moved over soft breasts, down stomachs to the dark triangle of ecstasy. She lifted her head in her climax and was shocked awake when she found Lola smiling back at her. As her breathing finally settled, she hoped she was climbing up from her pit of despair from losing Maria.

CHAPTER 20

July 20, 10:15 a.m.

PAINT WAS DOWN. Tears ran down Willie's brown face as he held the horse's twitching head in his lap. Bahb ran water up and down Paint's body with a spurting hose, working to cool him.

Loni knelt down beside Willie and reached out for Paint. He felt on fire, his sides heaving and panting for breath. Saliva bubbled out of his mouth, and muscle spasms racked his beautiful painted body. "Bahb! What the hell happened?"

"Indin chase with pickup. Paint got too hot."

"Did you call the vet?"

"She on way wit ice."

"Where's Roanie?" A streak of fear shot through her.

Bahb didn't answer.

"Bahb!" Her voice shook.

"He gone." Loni heard the sorrow in Bahb's voice.

"Five came in two pickup. One with trailer. I could not stop." His sorrowful voice stabbed through her. "I could not stop." The tremor in his voice broke Loni's heart.

"Who, Bahb?"

"They gone now, two hours."

"Goddamn it, Bahb. Who? Please tell me it wasn't the Pimas." Loni was shouting.

"No. Not Pima."

"You sure? You haven't heard of any funerals?"

"No."

"Please, Bahb, I can't let them push him off a cliff," Loni said frantically.

"No, I tell you." His face rock hard, he insisted, "They bad boys running the wild Santa Cruz over on the Colorado. They come before. They know the best horse."

"Why are you so sure?"

"One in rust-covered pickup had painted face. He running at Paint." Bahb scrubbed at his face with the back of his hand. "At Topaz Tank fixing gate when your grandma call. Not back in time."

Loni sagged against the corral railing and buried her face in her arms. "Roanie can't do that anymore." Pushing herself up from the railing, she trotted back to her truck, swearing, "No one's going to steal my horse again."

"Hela! They hurt you," Bahb shouted at her back.

Ignoring his command to stop, Loni jumped in her truck. Not if I see them first, she thought grimly. She shoved the truck into first, and her spinning tires shot fine silt everywhere as the truck fishtailed its way back to Old Highway 85. Turning west, she slammed a portable red and blue flashing light to the roof as she picked up speed. She was breaking the law, and she didn't care. She would bring Roanie home.

Ninety minutes later, Loni saw the village ahead and stopped. She bunched her hair into a tangled mass and unbuckled her gun belt. Removing her gun and Tazer, she tossed the belt behind the seat. She kept the truck at a crawl, watching for any movement.

Square, government built cement-block houses clumped together and surrounded a church and school building. Fifteen or sixteen in all, painted in a variety of pastel colors badly faded from the sun, all empty.

Sandwich houses were scattered among ironwood trees behind the clump of houses. Loni's truck dipped down a wide gully as the road crossed the dry sandy wash. The brilliant yellow blossoms barely hanging onto the palo verde trees followed Loni up and out to the edge of the village. No visible name, no street signs. Missing doors and windows left dark, empty holes in the block houses. Below the blank spaces, broken glass sparkled in the hot sun. A skinny red chicken hopped up on a window sill and cocked its head, watching Loni drive by.

With no breeze, people couldn't sleep inside, so beds sat under sparse mesquite and ironwood trees. Furniture and abandoned cars littered the ground wherever Loni gazed, and a trash mound rose behind the Catholic church. Pickups and horse trailers crowded around the schoolhouse ahead.

An old woman in a long, dark blue dress threw scratch to the few scraggly black-spotted hens hurrying toward her. Two of them flew out of an old, crooked mesquite tree, and one ran out from under an old faded couch, ticking hanging out, that leaned against the side of a house. What her granddad called overstuffed. The old woman kept her head down as the truck passed her by.

Loni smelled cooking. She spotted a fire under a huge old mesquite tree, built under a grocery cart on its side with a big aluminum pot sitting in it. The odor of menudo wafted through the stench of hot dust. No dogs barked at her, and she wondered what was in the stew. She remembered the time she went with Willie and Bahb and ate at a Le Paute village. They were miles away before Willie told her that she ate dog. "Didn't see that old blue hound around, did you Bahb?" She vomited and stayed angry with him all day.

She gave a sigh of relief when she saw Roanie's ugly tail hanging out of a horse trailer hooked up to an old Datsun king cab. Stopping a few car lengths back, she got out, facing the schoolhouse. Focus! she told herself. She eased past Roanie and opened the door to the pickup. Crawling behind the driver's seat, she crouched down, curled up, and waited, sharing the seat with a saddle. God help her if they're already on peyote, she thought.

It seemed like forever before the schoolhouse door opened, releasing a stream of dogs, kids, and adults. Sweat rolling down her body covered with a smelly horse blanket, Loni waited. The driver's door opened, and someone sat down heavily, bouncing the pickup. The pickup started, and voices faded. Careful of the mirrors, Loni pressed her gun into the hollow where the head connected to the neck. "Stop!" she ordered. "Don't move! Put it in neutral. Take your foot off the gas. We're going to talk."

The Le Paute started to swing at her, and Loni jabbed him hard in the throat, stopping the arm in midair. "What's your name?"

She could feel the anger and fear radiating off him. "Name!" Loni jabbed him again.

"Merve," he grunted. Loni glanced around again. The dust from the cars and trailers pulling away was so heavy that they probably wouldn't notice he wasn't following them.

"Ok, Merve, hands on your head. Then get out." Unwinding her long, lean body, Loni followed him. Gun in his back, she handcuffed him to a palo verde tree on the side of the road. Trading her truck for his pickup, she locked the hitch on the ball as Merve's dark eyes sullenly watched her every move.

Fear replaced the arrogant, angry expression on Merve's face when Loni walked toward him and stuck her gun in his face. "Your trailer will be at the Caliente Police Station with your pickup keys. Take this horse again and you will not live to ride him." She watched him struggling with his handcuffs in her rearview mirror until the village disappeared from view. The ride home was uneventful.

Loni unloaded Roanie and opened the gate. With a fast walk, he went directly to the water trough. She leaned against the rails, exhausted, as the surging adrenalin faded. Her grandparents came toward her with sorrowful faces.

"Paint's dead." Shiichoo turned and went back into the house.

Loni turned to Bahb. "He drink too much before we find."

"Where's Willie?"

Bahb shrugged. "He broken now. He go off to die like old dog."

"No. I'll find him."

Entering Willie's house, Loni checked around. Most of his treasures were gone except for his tomahawk on the kitchen table and the biggest two ollas in his pottery collection. Loni checked his secret hiding places. The stack of gold coins, the pocket watch she never saw him wear, and the few Pima trinkets she didn't understand, were all gone.

She checked his closet. All his gaudy turquoise string ties, even the expensive ones, were missing. She went out into the field and stood near the hump of dirt, Paint's home now. She fell to her knees and cried.

*  *  *

Tears continued to fall as she drove back to the hangar and settled in, eating cold tamales while she read from her grandmother’s notebook.

THE 7E MARE

It is beautiful and cruel on the desert. It was such a nice day. The early morning breeze was cool, the palo verde trees were starting to bloom, the mesquite were brilliant in their own special shade of green, and the cacti were in bud with their promise of a riot of color of white, yellow, gold, and magenta due in a week or so. The wild flowers were blooming each a sun worshiper, their heads uplifted to the first warm rays. The horses also felt the happy spring spirit. They wanted to run. They pranced and arched their necks as if to say, "All's well today." And so it seemed to us. This is the day the Lord made and we'll rejoice and be glad in it.

Then we encountered a scene that turned our gaiety into a sudden realization that like life, death is always very near us. As we rode up to red tank waterhole and windmill, we saw one of our beautiful desert brood mares dead, within just a few feet of water. Someone had carelessly thrown the barbwire gate in the gateway and the mare had her front foot entangled in the wires. So she died of thirst. A mockingbird above seemed to be singing in sympathy and the white wings were cooing their mournful soothing song. It was a sad and silent ride home. Thoughts of the torture she endured, the whys and ifs that might have changed things, but too late. We lost our beauty and her unborn colt. And her needless suffering filled my thoughts.

All the cattle and horsemen know the rule of the gate. There should be a bounty on people who disregard it.

FROM: Loni Wagner

TO: Sandi@gmailyahoo.com

DATE: July 20

SUBJECT: Still here

Reason # 6 why I don't ranch: Losing old friends is too hard.

Willie lost Paint today and I almost lost Roanie. Bahb says we may lose Willie too, but I'm going to find him and bring him home.

Been reading my grandparents' history and the last one almost broke my heart. I'm not repeating it, but the horse's suffering jogged a memory from my childhood when Bahb was teaching me how to treat a horse. He said gentle treatment was important because if you are good to a horse and you get sick or hurt, then the horse will come to you and you will get well. But if you mistreat a horse and you are sick or hurt, then the horse will not come willingly, and you will probably die. I'm guessing that applies to all pets. However, after I stood by Paint's grave, Bahb's loving attitude didn't help. Sorry, I can't deal right now.

Take care of you and yours.

Loni

CHAPTER 21

July 21, 12:27 a.m.

LONI TOSSED AND TURNED, too sick over Willie to sleep. She decided to search the bars in town before she started her shift. As she bent over to put on her boot, a bullet exploded through the window and scattered glass shards everywhere. She crawled to the light switch and flipped off the lights. A single head light turned onto the road to town. A motorcycle again! Damn! Already too far away to chase.

She flipped the lights back on and ordered Coco to stay on the bed while she swept up the sharp fragments. She found the bullet buried in the wall over the bed. Its path was not even close to where she was standing. She dug it out of the sheetrock and bagged it. A warning shot? Rebecca still at it? It was time to check on the DNA.

Loni put her gun belt on last. Checking her gun one last time, she re holstered it before she grabbed her tamale lunch and slipped down in the dark, still worried. It would be so easy to pick her off anywhere, anytime, especially on patrol. She sent Coco out to sniff around before they drove back onto the road.

She stopped at every bar in town but learned nothing. Signing in at the station, she asked Bobby to push for the DNA from the snake. "Got shot at again. It's getting old."

"Think whose DNA is on that snake is your shooter?"

"Who knows?" Loni tried to shrug it away, although her worry still showed on her face. "Gotta start looking somewhere." Loni thrummed her fingertips on the counter. "Still nothing back on Rene's plane stuff? Nothing on the blood or fingerprint in the epoxy?"

Bobby was shaking his head before Loni finished talking. "Nothing yet. I'll call in though, before I leave."

"Thanks, Bobby. I still think Rene is involved somehow with what we're working on."

"Listen." Bobby was upset. "You be careful out there. Don't take your usual route."

"I won't." She nodded goodbye and was soon heading north toward the bars out of town to search for Willie. She found him at The Oasis.

Willie leaned his head on her shoulder. "Loni. Paint dead."

"I know, Willie." Loni hugged him. He reeked of alcohol but Loni didn't care as she tried to absorb his pain.

"My Paint gone." Tears ran down his face.

"Come on, Willie. Time to go home."

"Ni, ni, ni, ni." Willie stumbled away from her and crawled back onto a bar stool.

Loni wrote her cell number on the back of her card and handed it to the bartender. "Call me when he passes out."

For the next few hours, she drove around sick at heart, feeling the depth of Willie's despair. Surges of fear and grief spiked through her, slamming her like a sledgehammer and freezing her to the steering wheel.

Adrenalin smacked Loni in the chest as a man stepped out into the road, hailing her down. Jamming on the brakes, she got out, waiting in the dark behind her door for him to approach. Was it a trap?  Did someone have a wreck? Lost? Illegal? She shined her flashlight in his face and watched his hands as he stopped a few feet away. Sighing with relief, she recognized him. "Hey, Gerald, what's wrong?"

"Ran out of gas," he said.

"Want me to take you back to your pickup and call your wife?"

Gerald hung his head. "Already did that."

"She wouldn't get out of bed?"

"Nah. She brought me a gallon of gas. I guess I was still drunk."

"What happened?'

He pulled at his hat and looked way off. "I poured the gas in her car."

"What did you say?"

"I poured it in her car."

"What happened then?" Loni tried hard not to giggle.

"She thanked me and drove off."

"She didn't come back?" Loni couldn't help it. She started laughing almost hysterically, despite her sorrow over Willie. Or maybe because of it.

Gerald gave Loni an exasperated shrug. "Would I still be here?"

"Why didn't you call someone else?"

Gerald dropped his head again. "Dropped my cell phone the other day and my horse stepped on it."

"How'd you call her tonight?"

"Gene Berrington came along and called for me." He leaned against the front of her SUV. "God, I'm tired." He took off his hat and rubbed his head. "Didn't want to leave my truck to go with him. It's full of tools. Then I thought, to hell with it. Nobody would want that junk anyway. So I started walking."

Trying to stop laughing, Loni said, "Get in. I'll take you home."

Gerald stared out the window. "Man, it was dark out there."

"I know," Loni answered him. "The moon's riding with the sun. Guess you won't be planting tonight, huh?"

Gerald glanced at her sideways and sighed. "You have no idea."

Loni let that one pass. "Still live up the tracks?"

"Yep."

"How's the stockyard business doing these days?"

"Good thing people still eat beef or I'd be on the food line." Gerald squirmed. "Had to fire two men with families today, so I got drunk."

"Did it help?"

"No, but you shoulda seen the look on my wife's face when she saw me pour the gas in her car. It was almost worth it."

"I'd rather seen yours when she drove away."

Loni dropped Gerald off . He opened the back door and she heard a chorus of dogs barking. He yelled "Shad'up!" as she backed back out onto the road.

Gerald was right. The desert was a black hole around her. Frazzled from worrying about when the next attack against her would come and what would happen to Willie, Loni took Froggy Bottom Road to an abandoned airstrip where she could see for miles, tracking any approaching light.

The strip had been an old American Airlines emergency landing strip. Loni wondered if the beacons were still up on the mountains. All one winter her grandfather and his brother had snaked poles between two donkeys up the mountains to build the airline beacons. According to Uncle Herm, her granddad's feet got so bad from the snow, he took off his boots and pissed on them. Swore it saved his toes from frostbite.

She slowly drove onto the triangle runway, watching for potholes in the ancient cement. It must have been built sometime in the thirties. Weaving along the tarmac to avoid potholes and trenches, she decided it was no longer usable, even for bringing in drugs. Certainly not at night.

Shining her flashlight down, Loni walked the edge of the runway with Coco. Recent tracks ran every which way. Kids car racing maybe?

Loni had come out here with Daniel years ago. He thought she'd like riding in one of the small planes the Butt Hiller kids flew. Headlights from the cars lining the runway provided landing lights for the three small planes that came in, one right after the other. They joined the kids who were passing around jugs of Thunderbird wine for their midnight rides. Hell of a fun place to puke from, they said. Loni remembered shaking her head at Daniel and going back to his car. She had watched the planes, worried sick about Daniel up in the sky. She never went again.

Back on Old Highway 85, Loni passed Taylor Road just as a wide, black hulk came out of the dark and rammed into her passenger's side, sending her down the embankment into a spin that finally slammed her SUV against a saguaro cactus. Airbags popped open all around her, imprisoning her. The heavy arms of a shattered cactus falling in large thorny hunks reverberated off the top of her SUV. One crashed into the windshield just before the sound of a gunshot. Coco's frenzied barking penetrated her haze, and Loni forced herself to focus. The airbags deflated enough so she could take hold of Coco's collar. She opened the door and fell out, pulling Coco with her.

Scrambling to her feet, she hung onto Coco's collar and pulled her away from the slamming doors on the highway. Flashlight beams snaked out, reaching for them. It was times like this she really missed a partner. When a light swept across her, she stopped to shoot at one of the flashlights and saw it wiggle out-of-control and turn off as she stumbled into a boulder. She felt her way around to the back of it when a repeater splattered around her, the shooter sweeping in half circles. They were hunting her on foot. She toggled her shoulder mike to call Bobby, and it came off in her hand. Shit! She had broken it when she fell out, and her cell phone was in the SUV.

As the brown dog dragged her away in the dark from the voices, Loni felt sand crunching under her feet. Coco had found a wash. Running, they stumbled up the wash. She could hear two people, one close to her. She hoped the loud voices would cover the scrunching sounds of her boots. When the sound of the voices dimmed, she stopped to catch her breath. Both she and Coco were panting in the heat.

Feeling along the side of the wash, Loni found a large outcrop. She cautiously pulled Coco around it. Coco tugged Loni out of the wash.

A man's voice shouted, "I found her tracks!"

A light swishing back and forth reached below her.

"Toss your gun," she quietly ordered, flashing her brightest light at him. Dressed in black, he looked huge in the flashlight's beam.

He turned toward her, gun raised.

She fired a shot at his feet, and he jerked and dropped the gun. "On your face and spread."

The other light bounced further and further away as Loni climbed down, warning him again not to move. "Even a twitch and you'll join your friends in hell." A Dirty Harry stupid thing to say, she thought, but it seemed to work. She cuffed him before she turned him over and flashed her light in his face. "Hello, Robert Teag. I heard you quit your job and left town."

With her gun stuck between his eyes, Loni searched him and found a cell phone. She pocketed it as she tried to question him. He didn't say anything until they heard a car start up and race away. "Shit! Shit! Shit!" he shouted at the car. "You fucking coward!"

"Coco, guard," Loni ordered as she positioned the flashlight on the ground, angling it at Teag, face down with Coco standing over him. Using Teag's phone, Loni called Bobby for a pickup, but it was an hour before Carl found them. Between the brief times she turned on her flashlight, she ragged on Teag as her adrenaline high finally dissipated. It passed the time.

*  *  *

Loni left Teag for Carl to book as she raced home. By the time she showered and got back for the task force meeting, he was already bailed out.

"Damn it!" Loni said to the group. "The man tried to kill a cop. Who let him go?"

"Chief did," Carl answered. "I couldn't talk him out of it."

Deflated, Loni sat and watched Tully hurry through the door.

"Sorry," Tully apologized. "Had to go to court."

"Tully? In court? You never go to court," said James.

"Well, he rear-ended me."

"Tully got hit by one of our regular DUI drivers," Carl explained.

James laughed. "What happened in court, Tully?"

"He was whining about needing to get back to work to pay alimony. Judge asked him, 'How many times you been married now?' Guy says five. 'Got any kids?' the judge asked. 'No, judge,' my man said to him. 'Fed them all to the pissants.'"

"What did the judge do?"

"Three years for smart mouth, one year for DUI." Tully sat down with a large bearclaw.

"Dropped by the bakery, I see."

"Court's hard work."

"Listen up," Carl interrupted. "Loni got attacked last night. Seems Teag is back and already out on bail. Chui? Thought you said the O'Neals fired him."

A mumbling of "well, shit" and a shaking head were the only responses to Carl's question. Finally Chui grumbled, "Well, that's what they said."

Carl frowned at his notes. "One got away. Border Patrol's looking into that." He paused, still reading his notes. "State called. They want us to look for somebody growing sex enhancement plants. Anybody know anything about that?"

"I do," Loni said. "Billy Joe, the perp I picked up the other night? Said he used them. That's what they're growing in the greenhouses on your ranch, Carl."

Everybody stared at Carl. "Say that again. What are they growing on my ranch?" Carl spouted in anger.

"Sex enhancer plants."

"Like what?" Tully actually sounded interested.

"What do you care, Tully? Nobody would go out wi'chou anyways." Chui's laugh was nasty.

Loni ignored Tully and Chui. "Come to Mama, ginseng, and Horny Goat Weed. At least according to Billy Joe. I don't know what else. Also castor bean seedlings. If they're storing them to grow, it's easy enough to smash a few accidently and leave ricin."

"If that's not enough for a warrant, I don't know what is." Carl's voice went up a notch. "James, you and Tully pick up the O'Neals. It's time we had a talk."

"Carl." Loni followed him out of the conference room. "Why did Chief bail Teag out?"

"Don't know, Loni. That's what I'm going to find out right now."

*  *  *

Loni sat with Lola, soaking in her warm, healing essence. She had the cost analysis for the motel ready for Loni. "I'll call the Phoenix Food Bank and ask about how they provide food for a homeless shelter," Lola said.

It was a relief to get back to mundane business. "Ask your brothers for a bid, okay?"

"Sure. We could ask churches for help, but they can be such a pain in the ass."

"I know. Most do-gooders are so judgmental that they make bad situations worse." Loni remembered the Baptist preacher's wife.

"Let's skip them for now. I'll call some shelters and ask for setup advice. I think I've got someone to help run it. I'll introduce you to her and see what you think." Loni stood. Her fear, bound up in her worry about Willie, made her restless. Lola gave her a hug, holding her very close for a long time. Loni held her back, breathing in a slight citrus scent from Lola's hair, never wanting to let her go. Too soon, Lola released her and pushed her out the door. "Remember what I said. Be careful."

*  *  *

Seeking a secure place, Loni retreated to the ranch. She started with cleaning the corrals, kicking dried-up cow patties into pieces as she pitched manure into piles. She was soon filthy dirty, salty sweat and cow pucky sliding and burning into every crevice and orifice in her body before she stopped and put the snow shovel away. It was afternoon and hot when she climbed into her truck and headed home. Almost there, she heard her cell phone ring.

"James needs help at the Oasis Bar, Loni. You close?"

Crap. "I'm on my way."

She stopped beside James's patrol car and got out. Untying her hair, she flopped it around into a tangle. Grabbing a handful of silt from under a salt cedar, she dabbed it in Coco's water and smeared dirt streaks on her face. Worried someone would recognize Coco, she left her outside as she shoved through the door yelling, "Puta. Alquien desear puta?" She walked directly toward the bar and demanded, "Bottl!" A quick glance around showed her that James was at the bar with a Mexican on each side, threatening him.

"Get out of here, you filthy bitch. Nobody wants to fuck you!" a cowboy yelled at her.

Muttering, Loni backed off and sat at a table closest to the door and yelled again, "Puta. Alquien desear puta?"

"I do," said a swarthy man at a table. "How much?"

"Cinco dinero."

"No way. You're not worth five dollars. How about two?"

"Cinco! Cinco! Cinco!" Loni chanted.

"Barkeep," one of the Mexicans at the bar said, "give her a bottle of beer and shut her up. And keep her down wind."

Ignoring Loni, the two men pulled James off his stool and started toward the door as Loni stumbled forward, grabbing the bottle from the bartender. "Asshole!" she said to the nearest man as they passed. Sparking anger, he turned toward her just as she swung the bottle in his face and heard a crunch as he went down. Shoving her gun into the front of the other one, she snarled, "Police. Let him go or you'll lose your balls." James spun away from him before he could react and quickly disarmed and cuffed both men. Without a word, James shoved them out the door and into his patrol car as Loni followed them out. Slamming the car door behind them, he walked over to her. "I owe you. I thank you."

"De nada." Loni smiled.

James stepped back to his car, got in and drove off with a last wave.

"Wow," Loni said out loud. "That was almost fun."

*  *  *

Upstairs, she was too tired to cook. Another short night. She pried off her filthy clothes in the bathroom, showered long enough to feel clean again, and fell on top of the bed, still wet.

When she felt dry, she sat up and started her calling marathon, asking for Willie. No one had an inkling as to where he was. It was as though he had dropped off the face of the earth, like losing Maria all over again.

*  *  *

Waking up hungry, she made a quick meal of fried eggs and toast. She decided to write to Sandi before she got ready for work.

FROM: Loni Wagner

TO: Sandi@gmailyahoo.com

DATE: July 21

SUBJECT: Still here

It was a crazy day. Between a shot through my window and somebody chasing me across the desert trying to kill me, I'm beginning to think I never left LA. Or maybe it would be safer to go back. I must be getting too close to something, but I don't know what it is. Time to find out before they do get me.

On to happier things. Bought an abandoned motel. Hope to help illegals stay alive and maybe find a better place. Lola gave me a cost analysis. If it doesn't run much over, I think I have just enough money left from Maria's insurance to get it open and a few rooms operating for a year before I have to figure out how to raise money to keep it open. We're calling it Maria's Hacienda. I think she would have liked that.

Take care of you and yours.

Loni

CHAPTER 22

July 22, 1:10 a.m.

"HEY." BOBBY HELD out a message. "You're late." He peered down at Loni with his light blue eyes and cautiously handed her the message. "This call came in at 2:30 this afternoon. Looks like a theft out in Harquah. Somebody stole a pig."

"Why didn't day shift take it?"

Bobby's Adam's apple bobbed like a nibbled float on a fishing line. "It's in Tully's writing. Chief initialed it, though. Apparently it's not an emergency. They know who took it. Tully said you could pick up the pig and take it back on your last run."

She read the note, wadded it up, and threw it back at Bobby. "Damn. A pig in my car?"

"Tully would say you already have a pig in the car. What's your problem? Anyhow, it's a pet. Pot bellied, I think." Bobby caught the note and tossed it in a trash can. "Guess he thinks he's overworked."

"He is." Clive stepped up behind Loni to sign out. "Saw him sharpen his pencil twice last week."

*  *  *

Cheered by Clive's joke, Loni left the town lights behind and started her patrol when Bobby's voice startled Coco into a low growl. "Hey Loni, you there?"

"We've got to quit meeting like this, Bobby."

He tittered a few seconds before he got serious. "Domestic at Hamilton Ranch. Three miles up Highway 88. You can —"

"Thanks, Bobby, I know where it is."

"I forgot you grew up around here."

"Have I ever told you how much I hate domestics?" Loni snarled.

"I think I heard you say it a time or two."

"Who called it in?"

"Wouldn't say. Man's voice, though."

Hanging onto Coco, Loni made a U-turn and sped north. Running without sirens, she pulled into the circular driveway, stopping behind a dark green pickup. An empty gun rack hung in the back window. She silently stepped out of her SUV, leaving the door open. Signaling Coco into attack readiness, she started toward the old farmhouse. So far everything was quiet, not even a barking dog. What farm doesn't have a dog, she wondered?

She had slipped into the shadows along the house when a gunshot suddenly rang out, followed by the sound of breaking glass. Ducking, she signaled Coco to stay behind her as she pulled her gun and ran to the window, peeking in. She saw Chelsa waving a .44 magnum toward a man rolled into a ball on the floor. As he tried to squeeze behind a beige recliner, her distraught voice repeated over and over, "Are you happy now? Are you happy now?"

Loni could hear the man muttering, but he was so doubled up on the floor that she couldn't tell what he was saying.

"You took everything!" she screamed at him. "Are you happy now?"

Loni stared through a small yellow triangle in the stained glass door and gave a hard knock, hoping to refocus Chelsa on her. Chelsa crossed to the broken window and stared out at Loni's patrol car. "Cops are here! Are you happy now?"

More muttering from the floor.

"You called." Chelsa kicked at the ball on the floor. "You answer the goddamned door and explain to James what a bastard you really are." She waved the revolver at the door, pointing it straight at Loni.

"Shit!" Loni stepped sideways and ducked, waiting for another gunshot. She reached back to the door and knocked again. "Hello, the house," she shouted. "Can I come in?"

"Oh hell, why not?" Chelsa sputtered and jerked the door wide open, slamming it against the wall so hard that the doorknob broke through the sheetrock. "Welcome to hell," she greeted Loni as she lowered the gun. "It's where all the losers live." She followed this with a strange keening sound. Turning her back, she walked to the dining room table, lay the gun down, and slumped in a chair. Barefoot, she wore faded baby doll pajamas with frayed lace around the neck and short sleeves. "He took my kids" she hiccupped before a sob. "Took them to my miserable bitch of a mother-in-law."

Recognizing Brad Taylor, Loni leaned over him and pulled an arm back to see if he was shot. "Are you hurt?"

He shook his head. Loni helped him to his feet and looked around for blood, but didn't find any. She walked to Chelsa's side, picked up the gun and unloaded it, holding the bullets in her hand as she waited for the heartbreaking sobs to slow. "Hey," Loni asked Brad. "Does she have anyone she can stay with?"

"I'm not going anywhere! This is my home," Chelsa injected.

"Why don't you call your bitch girlfriend," Brad sneered, sketching angry quotes in the air around the word girlfriend. "She's welcome to you."

Oh shit, Loni thought as she turned to Brad. "Where do you live?"

"Over Sunnyslope way. I came as soon as I heard about her girlfriend."

"He and James went to the school this afternoon and took the kids to his crazy mother." Chelsa was sobbing again.

"Listen, slut." Brad started toward her.

Loni stepped in front of him. She'd forgotten how thick he was. Not tall, but bulky. A dark, two day beard covered his angry face. She could smell the fear sweat coating him. "You better go on home now. It's late and you got a ways to go." Loni laid a hand on his chest, holding him back.

"No, by god." He knocked her arm away. "I came after their things, and I'm not leaving without them."

Suddenly Coco was between them, snarling.

"Yes, you are." Loni settled her hand on the butt of her gun.

His eyes jerking back and forth between the gun and the dog, Brad backed through the door with Coco closely following. "Wait just a damn minute," Brad complained. "Where's James?" He stumbled off the stoop and caught the handrail to stop his fall. When he straightened back up, his face was dark with fury. "Who the hell are you?" he spat. "I didn't ask for you!"

Good, Loni thought, signaling Coco to back off as she moved into his space and eased him toward his pickup. Too dark now to read her name tag. If he didn't see her dimples... Don't smile. "How did you manage to call the police?"

"She dialed nine-one-one, tossed her cell at me, and said, 'Why don't you get James here. Maybe he'll just shoot me for you.' So I did." He held up the cell phone in his hand.

Loni reached out. "I'll return that for you." Brad reluctantly let her take it, and she pocketed the phone. "Do you have any weapons with you?" She opened the pickup door for him.

"No," he said. "What the hell is that?" He nodded at Coco.

"Your worst nightmare," she said, "if you threaten me again." Coco stood like a statue, her golden wolf like eyes following his every move. Loni flashed the light beam under and behind the seat and in the cubbyhole. "Don't come back here tonight," she warned.

She watched the pickup pull out into the road and head north before she returned inside the house.

The Early American furnishings weren't to her taste but made a nice mix of earth tones that reflected comfort. Chelsa had stayed at the table, her head still buried in her arms.

Loni sat down beside her. "Chelsa, what's going on?"

Chelsa wiped away the tears. "He said his lawyer told him he had a legal right to the kids because of my immoral behavior." Her voice was hoarse from crying.

"Who's got custody?"

"I do. He's an abusive sonofabitch." She lowered her head again, wiping more tears on the hem of the red-checkered table cloth, leaving dark splotches. "I took it until he hit the kids. We're divorced over a year now." She swallowed a sob. "How can he do that? Just walk in and take them?"

"He can't. Same-sex relationships are legal. His lawyer is either totally ignorant, or your ex bamboozled you."

She scrutinized Loni with faint hope in her eyes. "What does that mean?"

"It means you can live with your girlfriend and your kids in the same house and there's nothing anyone can do about it."

"Then my restraining order is still good?" Chelsa asked, her eyes widening.

"You have a restraining order on him?"

"He kept threatening us. Shooting guns over the house. Swearing at me on the street. Following the kids, telling them I'm a dyke. I had to protect them."

"You're sure they're at his mother's?"

Chelsa snorted. "He doesn't want to care for them. Too cheap to pay."

"How long have you been with Lu?"

"Eight months yesterday."

"Your first?"

Chelsea lifted her chin. "Is that a problem?"

"Is it serious?

"It is with me."

"Can Lu come over tonight?" Loni said softly.

"No. She's on call the next three nights."

"Have you talked to her about this?

"No. I was afraid she'd go after my ex. Then she'd get in trouble," Chelsa said defiantly.

"Yeah, I know Lu. You just might be right."

"Can I call her?"

"Sure." Loni placed a hand on her arm to get her attention. "But right now you need to listen to me. First thing in the morning, this is what you're going to do. You listening?"

Watching Chelsa nod through another bout of tears, Loni continued. "At eight o'clock, I want you to take your custody papers and restraining order and go to the station and find Lola. Nobody else, do you understand?" Loni got another nod.

"Tell her to help you fill out a warrant. Tell her your ex-husband violated his restraining order and kidnapped your children, and you want them back. Are you with me?" Another nod. "Tell Lola to call me as soon as she gets the judge to sign, and I'll pick up the warrant and serve it. If all goes well, your kids will be home before noon."

"Are you shitting me?"

"No. Cross my heart."

 Chelsa threw her arms around Loni, leaving tears on her collar. It took a few minutes to untangle from her. "Last thing," Loni said as she walked out the door. "Tell Lu to bring a U-haul." At the woman's quizzical expression, Loni said, "She'll know what I mean."

*  *  *

Loni picked up a badly beaten drunk outside The Oasis. Cheated in a card game, someone said. She carefully helped him to his feet and drove him to the clinic.

"Hey, Loni." Ronald held the drunk away from him, fanning the booze smell away as he led him into the exam room. "Heard about Chui. You know what happened?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Heard he was arrested."

"No shit? Did you hear why?" Loni asked, surprised.

"Nope."

Loni was speechless. She gathered her wits and went back to her patrol.

*  *  *

After a long early morning, Loni got a call.

"You there, girl?" It was Bobby's voice.

Loni hated anyone calling her girl, especially when she was already cranky. It was time for her shift to end, and she wanted to get off the road. "What?" she snapped at Bobby.

"Don't forget that domestic at the Carter ranch. Off Wilson Road."

"Cheez. Two domestics in one night."

"Yeah," he answered. "How lucky is that?" He signed off laughing.

Loni didn't even bother with a retort. She was too used up from adrenalin highs and lows and it was already too hot to live.

Turning around, she headed back up Harquah Hills Road toward a clump of buildings in the distance. The ranch sat on the north side up against a black hill to take advantage of the shade. A windmill slowly turned. The large main house was surrounded by three smaller ones where the hired help lived. Her favorite barn was behind the house. Its weathered red was almost rust color from years of heat and dust storm sand blasting. Standing majestic high, its twelve-to-one peaked roof had a pointed overhang with a pulley and ropes hanging into the large hay door. Below the hay door were the huge double sliding doors. One stood open and a small backhoe sat in the opening. Loni wasn't sure if it was coming or going. Limbs from mesquite trees formed a large corral on the back of the barn.

The main house was a fifties one story ranch house in a U shape. A few tired pomegranate bushes lined the rock walkway into the house. Surrounding the buildings were dusty, dry salt cedars.

Danny Carter was an energetic, hardworking man with a funny, highly volatile wife. She had been a year ahead of Loni in school. Not friends, they still hung out together in study hall and the gym, sometimes catching each other's back against the rule makers. They shared books, dirty jokes, and test answers. Loni actually looked forward to seeing her again, really hoping this call was nothing serious. When she knocked on the door of the main house, Danny opened the door and reached out, dragging Loni inside. "Look at that. I want you to arrest the bitch."

"Hello to you too, Danny. How the hell are you?" She stared around and saw dirty clothes scattered all over the floor. "Where is Juanita?" Nothing else seemed to be out of order. Nothing on the tops of furniture but the usual lamps and clean ashtrays. Loni studied Danny. "What I see is dirty clothes all over the floor. Anything I'm missing besides Juanita?"

"Look!" Danny sputtered, pointing at the clothes. "She did this."

"Why don't you just pick them up? They're yours, aren't they?"

"Are you that stupid? Look!" He pulled on a pair of Levis that wouldn't budge. "They're nailed to the goddamned floor! The crazy bitch nailed my clothes to the floor and ran home to her mama!" Pacing and kicking at the dirty clothes, Danny worked himself up into a rant.

Loni fought a giggle. "Can I ask why?"

"She got tired of me stripping and dropping everything when I came in."

"Let me make sure I understand this. As soon as you hit the door, you started undressing and dropping clothes?"

"So? What's wrong with that? It's what I've always done."

Loni let that one go. "How long has she been doing this?"

"Four days."

"She's been nailing your clothes to the floor for four days?"

"Well yeah. I'm about to run out."

"Yep." Loni counted. "Four Levis and four shirts. Four briefs. Eight socks." Loni shook her head. "Danny, you know I can't arrest Juanita for this. But what I can do is not write up the report and save you the embarrassment."

For the first time, Danny stopped and stared at her. "Loni? Is that you?"

"Yeah, Danny, it's me."

"You left for California twenty years ago. What are you doing back here?"

Laughing, Loni corrected him, "It was only ten years, Danny."

"Heard you became a big shot detective out there. Why'd you come back here?"

"My grandma had a stroke. Had to come back and look out for her and my granddad."

"Life's a bitch, ain't it." He walked over to the door and opened it for Loni. "I'd appreciate it if you forgot about this." Danny ducked his head. "Not one of my better moments, huh?"

"Done, Danny." Loni punched his arm as she nodded at the clothes nailed to the floor. "Got to admit, though. Juanita always was damned creative."

"Bye, Loni." He slammed the door in her face, and she drove away, still laughing. It was the first time she had felt like smiling since she got out of bed. It felt good.

*  *  *

Walking through the door of the station, Loni looked at Lola, hoping for some kind of signal. Lola frowned in warning, but Chief was already in her face. "Girly! Finding wetbacks ain't your job!" Chief yelled at Loni. "Yer interfeerin' got Chui in trouble."

Oh, god. Loni cringed at the word "wetback." "What are you talking about?"

The scowl on Chief's face added new wrinkles over the old ones. "Got a call from Border Patrol."

Damn. "Chief. Border doesn't do the —"

"Listen to me," Chief interrupted, rubbing his protruding belly. "No! No! No! What part of no don't you understand?" His face turned a deeper purple. Before she could answer, he limped back into his office.

*  *  *

Tully was watching Loni as she walked into the task force meeting and sat down. She knew he had heard Chief yell at her, but this time he didn't react. The tension in the air was worse than usual. Even Tully wore a serious expression on his face.

Carl came in and sagged down in his chair. "The feds arrested Chui for transporting illegals into the country. One of the coyotes turned him in, and another made a deal." Carl gazed at Loni. "They read the reports you sent and set up a sting operation. Chui was providing illegals to a drug ring raising sex enhancing plants. On my ranch."

Carl rubbed his face hard and leaned his elbows against the table as though he needed all the help he could get to sit up. "We were also beginning to believe the bad meth was manufactured there, but the problem was we couldn't raid my ranch until we found everyone involved. State's saying to stand down until they figure out the delivery route, how many planes are involved, and where the cocaine comes from." He sat back and stared at Loni for a minute, his expression a mixture of anger and sorrow. She didn't know whether it was directed at Chui or her. He stood. "Rest of the meeting is cancelled." He turned and walked out.

Tully passed by Loni's chair as she waited for everyone to leave and reached out a hand, patting her shoulder. Sighing, she stood as the room cleared and followed Tully out to see a smiling Lola come out of the judge's office jingling all her bracelets and handing Loni a warrant. "You owe me," Lola warned in jest. "Don't think I won't collect."

"Yes!" Loni stuck her fist in the air and did a tap dance around Lola. "Something good's gonna come out of this day yet. Call Chelsa, will you? Tell her the kids will be home soon."

"Good luck," Lola said with an indulgent smile. "Let me know what happens, okay?"

"Of course." Loni pocketed the warrant. "Is Chui upstairs?"

"Yes. They're packing him up now for the ride into Phoenix."

"I hoped he might be undercover. Guess not, huh?"

Lola shook her head.

"Guess I'm in a spot of trouble with the boys."

"Probably," Lola said sympathetically.

"Where's James?"

 "I don't know. Ask Carl."

"What happened with the O'Neals yesterday?"

"Had to let them go." Lola shrugged. "Lack of evidence."

Worried about Carl's ranch, Loni decided to change the subject. "Hey. Do you do any computer work with the Apache Web Server program?"

"No. Why?"

"Well, Maria's sister in LA ordered this book online and sent it to me for my birthday. She thought it would help me learn to cook with Shiichoo." Loni showed Lola The Apache Cookbook. "But when you open it up, it explains how to get the most out of the Apache computer language."

Flipping through the book, Lola broke up in laugher. Finally she put her head down and pounded the desk.

"It's not funny!"

"Yes, it is." Lola handed the book back, swallowing her laughter. "That's a classic. Have you told Maria's sister yet?"

"I don't think she'll find it as funny as you do." By now Loni was laughing, too.

"Well, I'm glad you're laughing. So different from the first day you walked in here. Do you remember?"

"How could I forget? The first thing Chief said when I walked into his office was 'Holy shit, you're a girl!' Then he got up and left me sitting there."

Lola chuckled. "And when he asked why I didn't tell him you were a girl, I thought he was going to fire me on the spot."

"Yeah. And the longer I sat there waiting for him to come back, the more I knew I was in deep shit. Especially after I read the framed posters on his wall. I can still quote the one over his desk, 'Every day of my life forces me to add to the number of people who can kiss my ass.'" Worried, Loni added, "I know you've got my back, and I hope you don't get fired for helping me." Glancing around to make sure they were alone, Loni leaned over and hugged Lola. Hugging her back, Lola fit into Loni as though she had always been there. She felt so good, Loni wanted to hang on, but she made herself step back and let go.

But Chui saw them anyway. He shuffled by them in chains and said nothing. The fire was even gone out of his eyes as he looked away, fear on his face.

"Do you think the boys will ever forgive me for Chui?"

Lola's face sobered. "It may be awhile, but they'll get over it."

Ignoring the heat, Loni trotted to the police lot for her truck. She wanted at least one good thing to come out of this day other than the hug from Lola. Heading up Caliente Butte to get the kids, she wound around one ostentatious house after another until she arrived at the Taylor home. Parking in the shade for Coco, she left the windows down and walked by the two story white pillars to the double front door and rang the doorbell. Sensing someone peering at her through the peephole, she rang again.

"What do you want?" A shrill voice came through the intercom beside the door. "I didn't call you."

"I've got a warrant, ma'am." Loni unfolded it and tilted it toward the camera eye at the top of the door. "I need you to step out."

The door opened a crack, and Loni saw part of Mrs. Taylor's face. That same sour expression hadn't changed a bit since she was Loni's high school typing teacher. The skin was stretched across her face like a skeleton's grimace. "I called my son," she warned. "You better leave now."

Loni pushed the warrant through the crack at Mrs.Taylor, but she refused to take it. "I've come for the children," Loni said. Mrs. Taylor shook her head. "If you resist, I'll haul your sorry ass to jail. Comprendo?" Loni couldn't believe she had said that. Pushing the door open, she shoved the warrant into Mrs. Taylor's stomach and stepped around her into the house.

Two children stood at the top of the stairs. "Are you Max and Trina?" They solemnly nodded in unison. "Your mom wants you home and sent me to get you. Are you ready to go?"

Four frightened eyes turned to their grandmother.

"She won't stop you, I promise," Loni reassured them.

Without a sound, they scurried down the stairs and out of the house with her. Four-year-old Max clung to his sister Trina, who was three years older. They both wore wrinkled white tees and dark shorts.

Loni lifted the two up into her truck and watched Max lean up against Coco. He weakly smiled when Coco licked his face. Trina stared at the road ahead with big blue eyes. Tears ran silently down her face until she saw her mother waiting for them. Chelsa opened the passenger door and lifted the excited children out of Loni's truck, hugging them as though she would never let go of them again. Loni drove away, satisfied.

*  *  *

Loni slowly drove to the grocery store. She had told Shiichoo she would shop for her, but she couldn't remember for what. Opening her cell phone, she called the ranch.

"Shiichoo? I'm at the store. Shin'a' silgg."

"Do you want Apache bread or fry bread?"

"Am I cooking tonight?"

"Of course," Shiichoo said. "The workers around here are driving me crazy. When is it going to end?"

Loni sighed, ignoring the question. "Dahidgg' ch'ikaagi?"

"What leftovers? You already ate them."

"Ch'ik'eh doleel'. I'll cook."

"So, you pick it." Her grandmother hung up.

Loni snapped her cell phone shut, smiling at Shiichoo's abruptness. No goodbye. Just hang up.

She shopped at Spin's Mexican food stand for tamales.

By the time Loni got to the ranch, Bill Henry was hoisting the new evaporative cooler up on the roof with a very tall crane. The old cooler was in his flatbed truck, cooler pads black from mold. Loni was amazed water hadn't run off the roof out of the rusted bottom.

The refrigeration unit was a square thing sitting on the ground by the back door under the overhang of the roof. Loni could hear the whirring as she watched the Hyster lift the cooler onto the roof. She was glad they were getting it installed even though it wouldn't be needed again until the humidity dropped in the fall. Shiichoo joined her under the tree. "That look heavy to you?"

Loni noticed the worried expression on her face. "Not as heavy as the old one. Just bigger." She took Shiichoo's arm. "Are you enjoying the cool air yet?"

"Getting there."

"Let's go enjoy it some more."

Loni followed Shiichoo around to the front door and into the house. Shiichoo glanced up and deliberately avoided walking under the old cooler vent.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm not walking under that. What if it falls through?"

Loni kept a straight face.

She stayed all night in her old room, wallowing in comfort, no longer sticky from the humidity. But she couldn't sleep. Willie was out there somewhere, but she didn't know where to look anymore. She felt so helpless.

Hearing a boom in the distance, Loni got up and stared out her window at a massive thunderhead cloud boiling high into the sky sending lightning flashes circling overhead. Thank god for the refrigeration unit, Loni thought. Unless the electricity goes out. Here it comes again. The fucking monsoon fucking humidity along with the fucking summer heat.

CHAPTER 23

July 23, 3:22 a.m.

BOBBY'S VOICE SHATTERED Loni's thoughts. "Sounds like a domestic at 47610 Calvin Lane. Passerby heard fighting and screaming."

"Isn't that Chief's address?"

"Yep. Maybe the TV's up too loud." Loni heard something rustle. "Oh yeah. Forgot to tell you earlier your snake DNA came back. You know a Rebecca Childress?"

"Shit, shit, shit," Loni screamed as she turned her SUV back toward Calvin Road.

"Guess I better send someone to arrest her, huh?" Bobby interrupted her tirade.

Calvin Road was close. Racing up the highway, she saw a car hurtling out of Calvin Road and whipping onto the highway in front of her, speeding away. It was Jenny's bright yellow Mustang convertible. Killing her lights and engine, she coasted into Chief's driveway and stopped behind a farm utility truck. It was time to stop stewing about Rebecca.

Loni got out and motioned Coco to heel as she left the door slightly ajar. Easing by the truck, she noted the sign on its side. O'Neal & Son. Jenny's dad? Or brother? Stepping onto the porch, she slipped up to a window, but the blinds were down. Not even a sliver of light. She heard crashing and banging, then silence. Stepping onto the porch, she rang the doorbell and stepped to the side, calling out, "Police."  The sound of scrambling was followed by five rapid shots flying through the door. Well, shit. Loni pushed the switch on her shoulder mike and whispered, "Shots fired. Officer needs help."

The door crashed open. A man waving a gun ran out and nearly fell down the porch steps.

"Coco, attack." A brown blur hit the runner in the knees, and the gun flew out of the man's hand as he hit the ground hard. The dog's jaw at his throat and her vicious growl paralyzed the man. Loni snatched the gun from the ground and shoved her own gun in his face. "Coco, off." The dog lifted her head but kept growling. "Hands behind your back," Loni directed him, "before Coco changes her mind." Handcuffing him, she kept an eye on the open door.

The man glared at her as Loni searched him and found his billfold. His driver's license read Colin O'Neal. "You Jenny's dad?" she asked. Loni saw no resemblance. He was emaciated with a translucent pallor on his drawn face and bald head gleaming in the light of the open door. His work shirt hung on him as though it belonged to someone else. Shoving him into the back of her SUV, she asked him again. He grunted a yes.

Walking back up the porch steps, Loni peered inside. No sound, no movement. She cautiously stepped into total destruction. Bookcases pulled off the walls, pictures broken on the floor, furniture ripped and broken. Wall insulation hung out of huge holes like pink cotton candy at a fair. Making her way carefully through the debris, Loni crept further into the house. Still nothing. She thought about getting Coco to search, but she didn't want her cutting her pads on the glass. She passed the kitchen and bathroom. Nothing.

Chief was nailed to a bedroom wall with his hanging intestines wrapped around his feet. Soaked in blood, his yellow shirt hung in tattered strips. His eyes were already clouded, and his mouth was open on a silent scream. Loni stumbled, almost heaving on the evidence. Bile rose in her throat from the foul iron smell of blood mixed with bowel waste. Scattered on the floor in front of Chief were hundreds of children's photos covered by bloody footprints.

Backing out, Loni rushed to the porch railing, grabbing onto it for support and gulping fresh air in deep breaths. She leaned over and held on until the shakes stopped and her stomach settled before she called Bobby. "Chief's dead. Send the coroner and call the Phoenix crime lab. Tell them we need the full crew. It's really bad, Bobby."

"Bad how?"

"He was tortured." Loni took another deep breath. "I need Carl too."

"I called him. James too."

Pulling O'Neal's gun out of her belt, Loni bagged it and sat on the porch steps, waiting. Staring at the gun, she recognized it. She could read Chief's initials in the fancy silver scrolling on the gun handle. She got up and walked back into the house, searching around for the Taser. It was at Chief's feet, almost hidden in the intestines.

The coroner arrived first. Loni sat on the steps and waited until Doc Benjamin came out and sat down with her.

"Do you know who did it?"

"Yeah. Colin O'Neal. He's locked in my SUV over there."

"Any idea why?"

"Not a clue."

Silent again, Loni watched the flashing red and blue growing larger as they approached, dimming in the bellowing dust.

James ran up first with Carl not far behind. They stopped in the light pouring out of the front door entrance as Doc Benjamin stood, his voice sad. "You don't want to go in there."

"What happened?" Carl asked.

Loni watched Doc, waiting. Doc sat back down. "Chief's dead. Tortured."

"Who?"

"The perp's in my SUV, Carl," Loni said. "It's your tenant, Colin O'Neal."

Carl's face registered shock. "You talked to him?"

"Not yet."

He stomped toward Loni's SUV, swearing.

"Carl, he's mine." Loni ran around him, blocking his way.

"Fuck you, Loni. That bastard's mine." He reached around her for the door handle. Finding it locked, he went berserk, pounding and kicking. "Give me the goddam keys, Loni," he threatened. "Now."

James towered over Carl as he grabbed him. "Calm down. We'll sort this out." He pushed Carl back against a tree. "Loni. Why don't you go on?"

Loni scrambled to her car. "Good idea." She opened the back door of her SUV and motioned Coco in with O'Neal.

Loni backed out slowly, working her way around the scattered cars, leaving flashing lights behind. Turning her cell phone to record, she recited the Miranda to O'Neal.

"Get this dog out of my face," O'Neal begged. "He'll kill me."

"Do you understand these rights?" Loni repeated.

"The dog, goddammit."

"Do you understand these rights?"

"Shit, yes. Back your dog off now!"

"Coco. Release." Loni watched her back away from O'Neal and sit. She kept her growl dark and low.

"Would he really kill me?"

"He's a she. And yes, she would really kill you." Loni's anger spiked. "At least she wouldn't torture first."

"He deserved it!" O'Neal spat. "He raped my Jenny over and over. Started when she was only ten. He threatened to kill all of us if she didn't let him."

"Why didn't you report him?"

"He accused me before I found out. Jenny got too old for him, but he couldn't leave her to talk. I spent ten years in prison for his crime. He destroyed my family." In her rearview mirror, Loni saw despair on his face. "Didn't help, killing him. Didn't help. My Jenny's a mess, so angry. My son's a meth head. My wife's gone. Committed suicide." He started to cry. "She always believed I did it."

Loni didn't ask any more questions. It wasn't the first time she had witnessed the total destruction of a family with the act of rape. Robbery she could usually deal with. Even a beating. But something about rape was final, like death. The sky was turning pink as she walked O'Neal into the station. Bobby saw her face and stayed quiet. He helped her book O'Neal and took him to lockup.

"I'm going home now, Bobby. You can keep this and listen to it." She handed him her cell phone. "Put it in the evidence locker when you're done." Loni walked out. Sick at heart, she hadn't mentioned she saw Jenny leave the crime scene. She knew she had to go find Jenny, but she wasn't ready to face it yet. And she was too tired to look for Willie. Maybe later.

*  *  *

The sun had been up a long time by the time she finished booking O'Neal and drove to the hangar. Heat poured onto Loni's head as she parked and walked Coco out to wander and sniff. Daniel was working on an airplane engine. She walked back in and leaned against him for a little comfort and warmth.

"Hard day, turkey?"

"If I gobble, will you shoot me?"

"Tell big brother all about it."

Letting go, Loni leaned against the fuselage. "I lost someone I thought was a friend."

"Never have enough of those." He patted her shoulder. "Who'd you lose?"

"Jenny O'Neal. An art teacher at the school."

"Yeah? I know her. She just drove by here. Stopped at Rebecca's house."

Loni snapped to complete awareness. "Oh shit." She ran out of the hangar and called Coco as she headed toward Rebecca's house. Jenny tortured Chief. Reaching the side of the plane hangar, she stopped to call Bobby for backup. Coco waited beside her.

The huge garage door groaned as it started lifting. Loni pulled her gun while she waited for the door to get high enough to see under. She heard an engine roar to life and a propeller wind up, sucking air from around her. Slowly a spinning propeller appeared and the fuselage followed. Loni backed up a few steps.

As the plane cleared the garage, she shot out both the front tires. The plane stopped, and the engine shut down, the propeller slowly whirring to a standstill. Loni heard a shot as she and Coco slipped behind the plane, hiding behind a cabinet. Coco's bark warned Loni of an approach. Jerking up, she saw Daniel running toward her. "Stop, Daniel," she hollered. "They'll shoot you!" Loni sighed in relief as she watched Daniel turn to run around to the side of the garage.

Loni heard Jenny's voice. "Loni, is that you? I need help. Rebecca has a gun on me."

"Hang on, Jenny. Police are on their way."

A bullet passed through the back of the garage. "Help me, please!" she heard Jenny cry.

"Throw out the gun," Loni yelled.

"Goddammit, give that to me," she heard Rebecca say. The gun went off again. "Shit! Shit! Shit!" Rebecca opened the door and started climbing down. Blood ran down her arm. "I need a doctor." She collapsed onto the floor, holding her shoulder.

"Jenny, throw the gun out and climb down." Loni walked closer to the door, out of Jenny's sight.

Slowly the door opened, and Jenny stuck out a foot, feeling for the step.

"Jenny, I've got a gun pointed at you. I won't hesitate to use it. Throw your gun out before you climb down."

"But she kidnapped me. Why are you being so mean?"

"Jenny, for the last time, throw the goddamn gun out."

Loni watched it land under a tree beside the garage and moved in to catch Jenny as she climbed down. She handcuffed her before Jenny realized what happened.

"I need an ambulance at... Daniel? What's the address here?" Loni said into her mike.

Lola's voice jarred Loni. "Are you alright? Are you shot? Talk to me!"

"I'm fine," Loni interrupted her. "I have a vic with a shoulder wound. I'm at the Wagner Airport. Resident Number 9."

Loni thought she heard relief in Lola's voice. "Got it." She hung up.

Loni drove Jenny to the police station as Daniel waited for the ambulance with Rebecca. "Don't let her out of your sight," she warned Daniel. "She murdered Rene and tried to kill me."

"How the hell you figure that?"

"I'll tell you later."

Ignoring Jenny's screaming and kicking, Loni was determined to book her as she pulled her out of the SUV and hauled her in the station. "You bitch, you goddamn worthless breed," were the last words she heard as she and Bobby shoved Jenny into a cell next to her father. The first sight of her father had shocked Jenny into silence.

Leaving Bobby with the prisoners, Loni slowly hobbled down the stairs and limped around the corner to sit behind the booking desk with Lola, rubbing her ankle.

"She was kind of rough on you, huh?" said Lola.

"She even tried to bite me!" grumped Loni.

"Still want her for a girlfriend?"

Loni glared back, trying not to laugh. "Haven't decided," she flipped back. "How do you know I don't like rough?"

Bobby's slow voice interrupted them as he walked in from upstairs. "Your phone's locked in evidence. Listened to the confession. Tully's up with them now. Seems they can't talk fast enough, accusing each other for everything." He scratched his head, his long blond hair falling forward before he pushed it back on his head, trying to cover a bald spot. "She part of it?"

"Probably. She was there." Loni closed her eyes, feeling drained. "I need someone to go to Jenny's house and search for bloody clothes." She thought a minute. "Tell them to look for a tube of epoxy matching Rene's valve at Rebecca's house."

"CSI should find plenty of evidence at the scene," Bobby said.

Loni nodded in agreement. "Did you send someone to the clinic to watch Rebecca?"

"James is there," Lola said. "What are you charging her with?"

"Rene's murder and Rosie's attempted murder. I'm sure it's her fingerprint in the epoxy on the valve. And her DNA in the blood. Also, attempted murder on me. She's the one who shot at me and sicced the rattlesnake on me."

"Wow! That's some kind of mad." Bobby shook his head.

"Crazy jealous, I figure. She saw both Rene and me as competition."

Tully wandered in. "O'Neal wants a priest."

"I don't think we have one around here right now, Tully," Lola told him. "I think he moved back to Phoenix."

"I know they haven't finished fixing the church. Wouldn't they keep a priest around here anyway?"

"The rectory's got too much damage to live in."

"What happened to that Catholic priest that lived in a trailer house on Rankin's ranch near the Indian village? " Bobby asked.

Lola glanced up from her typing. "Jimmy Rankin ran him off."

"Why?"

"Well, Jimmy said he asked the priest to help with the lice and fleas in the village and he said it wasn't any of his business. Said he was there to teach about God. He went to the village and asked red Feather what they learned from the priest. Jimmy said red-Feather told him, 'He just talka bout God and hell. Then he passa da pot.'"

"Well, hell!" Tully shook his head.

Lola answered the phone. Hanging it up, she told the group, "Carl cancelled the meeting."

"Bless him." Loni stood up. "I gotta get home before I fall down."

*  *  *

Loni propped herself against a pillow on the bed and opened another notebook, hoping a story from her grandmother would cheer her. The story was called "Headlight." Loni smiled. Sounded like a bright story to her.

Headlight was a blazed face desert colt, bright sorrel and stocking legged. I always believed no horse was naturally mean; the same with boys, but mishandling or environment made them so. I don't know what happened to Headlight. The five years on the desert developed him physically into a beautiful animal. Maybe someone caught him and abused him, maybe he got enough loco weed somewhere to damage his brain. No amount of kindness or food seemed to change him. If you tied him up he'd fight the rope until he fell exhausted. If you came in the corral, he'd charge you biting and striking.

We decided to geld him and maybe he'd change. That operation in itself was a story. Tied down he beat his head on the ground so I tried to sit on his head to hold him still. He threw me off like a wet sock, so Ben said, "You finish the cut and I'll hold him." So I castrated my first colt, got the bleeding stopped and smeared on his bruises and Ben let him up. We just made it to the top rail, and here he came, squealing and striking. He was crazy mad. We put feed and water in the corral and left him to quiet down. He never did, just the sight of a man would make him charge at you.

Ben said, "That's enough. He'll kill someone." So he took him back to the desert and shot him. I didn't protest, because he was so mean he'd never change. We tried for over three months. Most of the colts were working good by then, but he only had two saddlings. He didn't buck so hard he couldn't be rode. It was when he was loose that he went haywire. Maybe a "head shrinker" could explain that.

Maybe horses have insanity, but I'll always think it was loco weed and that if it doesn't kill them outright, it affects their nervous system. So they are ruined, unpredictable, and a danger to themselves and others. Poor old Headlight, another tragedy of the desert.

Closing the notebook, she kept hearing Bahb's voice. Do no harm. But Jenny could not live by that. She was too badly damaged.

FROM: Loni Wagner

TO: Sandi@gmailyahoo.com

DATE: July 23

SUBJECT: Still here

Lots happened, but I'll make it short.

Jenny is a lost soul. She murdered the man who raped her as a child. The rapist pinned the blame on her father, who served ten years for it. Mother killed herself. Jenny and her brother tracked him until her dad got out. They went to his house tonight. Tortured and murdered him.

Lola's having a hard time dealing with Chief's death. Even though she didn't really like him or respect him, he was her boss and that makes it close to home. She's trying to cover with teasing, but I can see the pain in her eyes.

James just called me. He got a confession out of Rebecca, Jenny's lover. Seems Jenny has a bad habit of looking for people to use, including Rene. Rebecca was so jealous, she couldn't deal with it. She saw Jenny kissing Rene and killed him. When Jenny showed some interest in me, Rebecca tried to kill me. None of us realized that Jenny was after Chief.

Times like this I wish I didn't hate drugs so much. I could use a knockout pill. But I survived losing Maria, and I can survive this.

Take care of you and yours. It's dangerous out there.

Loni

CHAPTER 24

July 24, 1:15 a.m.

LONI BEGAN HER PATROL determined to find Willie. She stopped at all the bars in her area, but no one had seen him. Finally, she parked in her usual speed trap location down from the Oasis Bar and opened her phone book to bars within a fifty-mile radius. She started calling, describing Willie to deaf ears that hadn't seen anything for years. Bartender's curse.

Waiting for dawn, she picked up three speeders headed for California, but let them off with warnings. She was tired of anger, tired of boredom, tired of hurting for Jenny, and lonely for Lola. Wow! Where did that come from? Time became the enemy as the waxing moon followed her, accusing her of failing Willie. Desperate to find Willie, the night never seemed to end. Coco stayed close, leaning against Loni the whole night.

*  *  *

Loni skipped the task force meeting and went home. She set her alarm for eleven o'clock. Most bars started to open up then.

*  *  *

She shut off her alarm and closed her eyes, trying to get back to sleep. Failing, she crawled out of bed to make more calls.

The fifth one gave her hope. The barkeep at Voltap, a podunk spot at a crossroads forty miles from Caliente, said, "Sounds like the drunk in the back."

Loni got there in thirty-five minutes. She showed the barkeep her badge, and he pointed to the back door.

It wasn't Willie.

Leaning down, she tried to wake the man up. His skin was dry and pasty. Not good. Groaning, he pushed Loni's hands away and rubbed his head. "Got a drink?"

"No. But I'll take you to a doctor."

"No doctor. Rather stay here." The drunk rolled back over on his filthy blanket and passed out again.

CHAPTER 25

July 25, 4:13 a.m.

THE CALL CAME ON Sunday afternoon. Somebody said they saw him sick behind the Aqua Verde Canteen. She remembered the bar and the old graveyard hidden around the back of a hill. Left over from the Verde Mine in its glory days in the late 1800s, it was a very small graveyard with maybe thirty wooden crosses in unreadable pieces. In one corner, a small headstone, the only one with a visible name, read "Baby Mary" and "May 2, 1877."

A thunderhead blowing in fast out of the Bradshaws bellowed high overhead as dun gray and cotton white fell over each other in the huge blue sky. Loni watched it while she sped the twenty miles to the tiny settlement. Once a mining town, it survived these days mostly from the big RV campgrounds around it. Every winter the desert filled with every kind of sleeping contraption anyone could dream up. Some days it resembled Quartsite, homeless homes on wheels stretching for miles.

As the flashing sign of the bar came into view, Loni slowed down and pulled up in front. She walked up to the barkeep and asked for Willie. She knew he had been here because his favorite bolo tie hung on a hook beside the large mirror behind the bar.

"Who are you?"

"His sister."

"Out back," the barkeep said. "Smelled so bad I had to throw him out."

"Not before you took that off him." Loni pointed to the tie.

"I gave him a bottle for it," he replied belligerently.

"How much?"

"$400."

"Sorry?" Loni glared at him.

"Take it or leave it."

Disgusted, Loni handed him a credit card and stuffed the bolo in her pocket.

She pushed through the back door, following the smell of vomit around a corner to a shed. The roof was partly covered with a blue tarp, and the missing boards in the flimsy walls left spaces wide enough to walk through. The stuffing of an old couch, faded and rotted from the sun and rain, surrounded Willie.

Smelling of vomit, he groaned in pain, his breathing irregular, and his lips tinged blue. Loni had seen it plenty of times on the streets of LA. She tried to help, but any time she took them to a clinic, she'd be stepping over them again the next day.

This was different. This was Willie. She tried to get him to stand, but he was a limp, dead weight. Giving up, she locked her arms around has chest and dragged him to her truck. Just as she got the door open, a car pulled up and a cowboy got out, offering to help. They wrestled him up and seat belted him in.

"He's pretty much gone," the cowboy said somberly. "Better find a doctor."

"I'm on my way." She nodded her thanks, starting the truck.

Loni called her grandparents and told them to hurry to the clinic. "If you get a ticket, Bahb, I'll pay for it."

*  *  *

Chelsa moved him into the area equipped for serious emergencies and called Dr. Benjamin.

Loni sat between her grandparents to wait. "He has to make it," she said, holding onto the edge of hope.

Bahb rubbed her back as Shiichoo held her hand. "Can't. Grief too deep. He ride Paint home now. Let him go."

An hour later, Willie was dead. Dr. Benjamin signed the certificate, calling it death by alcohol poisoning but it was a broken heart that killed him. Loni didn't argue with the doc. Bahb picked Willie up and walked out of the clinic, setting him in his pickup. Shiichoo got in beside Willie and held him to her.

Time passed in chunks, folding in upon itself, as Loni followed Bahb to the ranch and climbed out of her truck, watching Bahb take Willie into the house. Loni started to follow, but Shiichoo grabbed her arm and pulled her toward Willie's place. "Need to get his clothes," she insisted. "Bahb will clean him up."

They found clean underwear, socks, his favorite shirt, and new Levis. Shiichoo had carried Willie's boots home in her lap. She handed them to Loni as she gathered the clothes and left her to clean the boots. Loni found the soap for the boots and spent a long time polishing them. On her way out, she picked up his tomahawk from the table.

Night had fallen by the time she entered the house. Willie was cleaned up, dressed, and laid out on the dining room table. Shiichoo had Willie's two ollo pottery bowls filled with pinole and water beside him. His bolo tie was around his neck, and his hands were on his chest. Loni handed Bahb Willie's boots. She slowly walked up to Willie and gazed down, placing his tomahawk in his hands as she leaned over and kissed his forehead. Then she sat down beside him.

CHAPTER 26

July 26, 1:00 p.m.

TIME FOR ONE MORE chore before they buried Willie.

"Lola? It's Loni. I need a favor." Even talking hurt.

"Sure, sweetheart. Whatever I can do."

"I need you to come and cut my hair," Loni said sadly.

"Why?"

"It's tradition. Pimas cut their hair when they bury a loved one. It's something Willie asked me to do."

"I'll be there in an hour, okay?"

Loni hadn't moved from the kitchen table when Lola knocked on the door. The cup of coffee in front of her had turned cold. She struggled up to let Lola in. Coco was her usual ecstatic self to see Lola.

"Pour yourself some coffee," Loni said. "I'll be right back." Giving her hair a good, quick wash, she collected scissors, comb, and towel. Returning, she wrapped the towel around her shoulders and sat down.

"You're serious." It wasn't a question.  "How much do you want me to cut?"

"It's supposed to be above the shoulders. But I can't braid it that short, so cut it off my neck. It's too hot."

"I'm not sure about this," Lola said cautiously.

"Didn't you say you cut everybody's hair in your neighborhood?"

"Yes, but..."

"Butts are to sit on. Just do it, please." Shiichoo came in and sat down to watch. They were both near tears.

"Shiichoo, if you're going to sit there and cry, I'm going to cut it the way I did in high school."

"No, you won't. Lola won't do that."

"I got two hands and a mirror," Loni retored.

Lola stared at Loni. "What'd you do?"

"Crewcut."

"You're kidding!"

Shiichoo added, "She also streaked it with that god awful spray paint. Usually rainbow colors."

"You were out in high school?"

Loni shrugged. "Remember? I was a two spirit and proud of it." No one said anything for several minutes, and Loni listened to the snicking of the scissors as the black hair fell in long batches around her feet. Shiichoo gathered it and gently put it in a large plastic Ziploc bag.

"Make somebody a good wig." She sounded weepy.

"Sure," answered Lola. "There's a place that makes wigs up for cancer patients. You can send it there."

Lola snipped around her ears. "Tell me something. Why didn't any of us see how bad Chief really was? I thought he was just a sick old man."

"Bahb knew," Loni said.  "He said Chief had the soft wet eyes of pure evil."

"I'm sorry?"

"Soft wet eyes. Did you not notice?"

"No. Why didn't you tell me?" Lola asked in amazement.

"Bahb says —"

"Wait a minute. Is this another one of your grandfather's truisms?"

"Doesn't make them wrong!" Loni said defensively.

"I know. Just want to know what I'm hearing here. Go on."

"He says no matter what evil a person does, the only way to get somebody to believe it is, is to say he killed a cat."

"Works for me." Lola handed Loni a hand mirror.

"Wow! I look like kd lang with a crooked nose."

Lola reached out and lifted Loni's chin with a finger and studied her.

"Your forehead's broader, your chin is rounder. And she doesn't have dimples." Lola shook her head. "Nah. You look more like Geronimo." She laughed as she ducked away from Loni.

"Does Geronimo have dimples, Shiichoo?"

"I don't really know. Never met him since he died a good twenty years before I was born. Don't think I ever saw a picture of him smiling. Maybe."

"Were you related?"

"Probably. We were both Chiricahua Apaches from the high country. I was born on the San Carlos Reservation."

"I remember that, now. Do you know how he died?"

"Fell off a horse, I think. Got pneumonia. He's buried at Fort Sill, Oklahoma." Shiichoo frowned. "Guess Usen got tired of taking care of him."

"Usen?"

"Apache high God of the Bedonkohe religion."

"I could use Usen right now." Loni fell silent. Torn by her feelings for Lola and her sorrow over Willie's death, Loni couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry.

Shiichoo took the towel from her shoulders, and Loni heard the screeching of the screen door. She knew Shiichoo was shaking her hair in the yard for the birds to build soft nests. She made herself think of the small brown sparrow's push, pull, and tug as the nest grew in her mind.

Lola sat down and took Loni's hand. "I'd like to stay for the funeral. Is that okay?"

Loni leaned over and hugged her. "Thanks."

"People are coming," Shiichoo said as she came back in. "Time to get food ready."

"I'd like to help," Lola said.

"Of course you can," Loni answered. "Why'd you think I asked you over?"

Lola slapped her across the back of the head as she passed by to help Shiichoo.

*  *  *

It was a motley crew that trickled into the glow of the waxing moon as it hung low in the sky. Flickering candles lit the way to the old ranch graveyard. Four of Willie's friends lowered his sitting body into his final resting place, facing him south. They placed his pottery ollos of pinole and water beside him. Loni and Bahb helped them shovel dirt until Willie was covered for his journey. Silently, she wished Willie and Paint a fast ride to their happy hunting grounds.

In minutes, it was over and everyone quietly drifted into the night. It was the way Willie would have wanted it.

CHAPTER 27

July 27, 5:13 a.m.

LONI STAYED AT THE ranch all day, wandering between the cemetery, Roanie, Stonewall, and Paint's grave. All day the sun hung directly above her, boiling her skin, but she didn't care. Shiichoo grabbed her between wanderings and dabbed aloe vera on her face, neck, and hands as she made her drink large cans of warm water. "Sun will make you sick soon." Hugging herself, Loni only shook her head and wandered on.

CHAPTER 28

July 28, 9:20 a.m.

LONI MOVED THROUGH time in a daze of agony. Dressing, eating. Nothing pierced her shell. Nothing mattered. Unseeing, she stared out the window. Nothing registered until the jangling of her cell phone jarred her, intruding on her pain.

It was Carl. "I know it's your day off and this is not a good time, but I need your help. Can you come in for a few hours? I need someone to protect Rosie. She's getting threatening calls."

"Who from? I thought we were done here."

"The money's still missing. Looks like Rosie knows something after all, but won't talk. Claims it's not safe. State is moving her to a safe house tomorrow. I'll be in to relieve you later."

"Okay." Loni shut her cell phone. Sitting with Rosie or sitting where she was really didn't matter.

*  *  *

Rosie was in rehab, a new facility seven miles south of Caliente surrounded by new subdivisions. None of it had been there when Loni left for Oregon. Most lots were vacant and houses unfinished. Another developer who went bust.

Rosie was asleep in her room. Loni sat in a chair next to her bed and studied her. The long blond hair had dark roots now. One broken leg was in a light cast, and the other was hanging in traction.

Two hours passed before a nurse beckoned Loni outside. A Papago woman, good natured and grandmother soft, she had been in and out, checking on Rosie. With a last glance at Rosie, Loni put down the book and followed the nurse. Her name tag read "Josie."

"Admittance wants you. A call from a Carl Harper?"

"Thanks, Josie. Can you keep an eye out while I'm gone?"

"Sure."

"Guest bathroom is where?" Loni asked.

Josie pointed to the end of the hall as she hurried into another room.

As Loni came out of the bathroom, she saw the back of a man in a long white coat disappear into Rosie's room. Something about him bothered her. Loni hurried back to the room and peeked in the door.

A bearded man was leaning over Rosie with a pillow in his hands. "Where are the bank numbers?"

Rosie was whimpering. "Get out," she said weakly.

He pressed the pillow over Rosie's face. Loni yelled, "Police!" as she pointed her gun at him. He threw the pillow at her face and started to push by her. She stuck out her foot and tripped him, pulling his arms back to handcuff him. Flipping him over, she exclaimed, "Well, shit, Teag. You again? Why'd you run?"

"Figured you wouldn't shoot in here."

She called Carl. "Hey, Teag's here. He tried to kill Rosie. I'd be willing to bet Steve O'Neal is the other one we're looking for."

Loni forced the sitting man to stretch out his legs. Getting a stool from behind the nurses' station, she sat the stool across his legs, climbed on and waited, watching him.

"Loni?" Carl hurried up to her. "You all right?"

"I am." Loni stared down at the prisoner. "He's not."

Shaking his head, Carl hauled him off down the hall. "I'll be back as soon as I interrogate him."

Loni joined Rosie. "Sorry," she said. "I should have been more careful."

"I'm so tired of this," Rosie said. "I want it over." She sat a minute as Loni watched a determined expression settle on her face. "Got a tape recorder?"

"Sure." Loni took out her cell phone and opened it. "Can you hold it?"

"Yes," Rosie declared. "I don't have a lot to tell."

"I'm gonna say your rights first. Time, date, and who we both are. Then it's all yours."

Rosie nodded and quietly waited, answering that she understood her rights. Rosie's final comment was "I kept warning Rene not to crap in his own nest."

By the time Carl returned, Rosie was asleep. Loni gave him her phone.

*  *  *

Spending the rest of the night on her grandparent's couch, she got up and sat at the kitchen table. Her grandma sat scrambled eggs in front of her. Loni tried to eat.

"Believe in the magic, child. It will help."

Loni remembered Bahb's voice every time something bad happened. "When you walk hard road and stay true to yourself, it make magic that get you through.

"I'm trying, Shiichoo. But sometimes that road is too hard."

Shiichoo gave Loni a long hug and left her alone to clean up the kitchen. She wandered aimlessly the rest of the day, standing at the graves, talking to Roanie and Stonewall while she hung onto their necks and cried. Their warm bodies helped. She got to the loft in time to fix some soup before patrol.

FROM: Loni Wagner

TO: Sandi@gmailyahoo.com

DATE: July 28

SUBJECT: Still here

It's been a bad day. The loss of Willie and Paint fills me with such pain. Losing Willie brings with it the loss of Maria. I feel like a truck ran me over then backed up and did it again.

I think about Rosie, another life destroyed along with Rene, Larry, Chief, Jenny, Steve, and Chui. But the most painful were the children. Tragic deaths and rapes. And so much suffering in the many people connected to them. I'm not even counting the loss of illegals. Too many. It's too much.

I didn't know how much family meant to me until now. No matter what happens around me, I know they have my back. Shiichoo keeps reminding me there is grace in the world. When I make myself forget about what's out there and think of her, then I have to agree. She is my grace. So is Lola. So was Maria. All in all I am glad to be back in a small town. I had forgotten how much easier it is to help people get out of trouble. Seems like in LA it was already too late by the time we got to them.

And thanks to you for being family. And for calling to see what was wrong when I stopped emailing. And really, thanks for understanding.

Take care of you and yours.

Loni

CHAPTER 29

July 29, 4:15 a.m.

MISERABLE AT THE LOSS of Willie, Loni watched the nearly full moon fall toward the horizon and wash the desert with black. Aching from rolling and tossing, she got up and dressed. She wasn't due to guard Rosie until eight, but she called Coco into the truck and headed toward the hospital early. She needed to do something. Anything.

Rosie was sitting up with a Kindle in her hands as James lightly snored in a padded chair. His long body was stretched across the door, and Loni bumped him pushing her way in. He didn't stir.

"How long's he been asleep?"

"All night."

"I have not," James defended himself as he finally stirred in the chair. "Just resting my eyes."

"Go home, James.

Grumbling about long nights, James yawned and struggled out of the chair and through the door.

"Coco, guard," Loni told her, and Coco took James' place across the door.

"James doesn't talk much," Rosie commented, watching Coco. "Hope you have more to say."

"Not much, Rosie. Carl put out a warrant for Larry's arrest. They've been at the O'Neal ranch most of the night flipping the place and looking for Steve O'Neal. I don't know any more, but Lola did promise to call if anything happened.

"Do you think I'm safe yet?"

"I do. If you told us everything. You said the money is all you knew about and State collected that. Should we know anything else?" Loni asked.

"What about the Mexican connection? I told them about the Mexican cops we dealt with. Did they get picked up?"

"I don't know. Maybe that's the reason State is moving you to a safe house."

"It's been four weeks. The doc said I could travel now."

"I know. The helicopter will be here at ten o'clock." Loni tried to sound reassuring.

The room began to fill up with nurses and a doctor to get her ready to travel. Loni and Coco sat outside and watched people come and go, questioning each one carefully. By the time Rosie was signed out and ready, they could hear the wap-wap-wap of the helicopter. A male nurse used a gurney to keep Rosie's legs elevated. Loni watched as they loaded Rosie, gurney and all, and belted her in. The helicopter slowly disappeared on the horizon.

Pushing Coco into the truck ahead of her, she drove to the hangar, hoping to hang out with Daniel. She spent the morning putting his tools away and hosing out the hangar as she listened to Daniel and Uncle Herm argue about who was going to fly the plane they were repairing. It was a Cessna Caravan, a lot like the one Rene crashed in.

Coco entertained herself by attacking the water spray with her turkey drink until both she and Loni were soaked. After a trip to a patch of dead grass, Coco followed Loni up the loft.

Loni warmed up some stew Shiichoo made her and joined Coco for lunch. Falling asleep on a full stomach, she did not wake up until it was time to get ready for work. Finishing the cold stew, she called Coco and headed into the night.

CHAPTER 30

July 30, 1:56 a.m.

BACK ON PATROL, Loni drove aimlessly, not know where she was.

"Anybody listening?" Bobby's voice sounded stressed. "Accident on freeway. Fatalities. Need help rerouting traffic."

"What happened, Bobby?"

"RV pulled out from a side road. Said he got antsy."

"He said what?" Loni exclaimed.

"Antsy! The little bastard got antsy."

Loni arrived at the scene in eighteen minutes. Three cars and a pickup were scattered in a patchwork of pain down the wide dirt meridian. Five emergency vehicles flooded the area with lights. Loni pulled up and said, "Coco, stay." She grabbed a handful of flares and blocked off the right lane. Somewhere she heard a child crying. Lu came out of the dark and ran up the bank to her ambulance with a small bundle.

Loni found Tully with a young man sitting on the embankment. "Hey! What can I do?"

"Just control the traffic. Back down where you parked is good."

"My. God." Loni stared around at the cars scattered everywhere. "Bobby said an RV did all this." Large crumpled sheets of RV metal siding and splintered two-by-fours were scattered among and on top of cars that twisted around each other in the middle of the highway. The cab of the demolished RV lay on its side down the embankment, separate from everything else.

Tully pointed to the cab. "This kid pulled straight into traffic." Tully pushed at the kid with his foot. "Hey! Tell her why?"

Dark head down, the boy said nothing. His face hidden by long black hair spilling over his forehead, he sat cross legged, rubbing his torso with wiry arms.

"Bobby told me," Loni said. "Said he got antsy."

"Can you believe it? I always said no one under twenty-five should ever be allowed to drive." Tully toed the kid's ass with the tip of his boot again. "Here's why."

Trotting back to her SUV, Loni spent the rest of her shift rerouting traffic and clearing the scene. Three dead. Another in serious condition.

"Hey," Tully said to her as he left. "Last task force meeting today. You gotta be there cuz you're in charge."

"What the hell, Tully? Where's Carl?"

"He's in Phoenix getting sworn in as interim chief." Tully saluted Loni and walked back in his rolling gait to his car.

*  *  *

Her stomach tied in knots, she reached the station just in time for the meeting.

James looked great this morning, relaxed and at peace. But the biggest surprise was Tully. His suit was clean and pressed, his face close shaved. Tall and thin, he had lost his gut. He winked at Loni when he came in. Reaching over, he shut her mouth for her as he sat down.

"Holy shit!" Loni couldn't help herself and ducked her head, embarrassed. He was grinning at her when she looked up. "Who the hell are you?"

"Just your everyday cop."

"Jesus, Tully." Loni said sarcastically. "How long did you have to go to school to learn to say that with a straight face?"

"Nobody pays attention to a fool, right?"

James was laughing. "Where'd you leave your belly, Tully?"

"Fat falls. Didn't you know?"

"Not your fat." Loni was trying not to laugh. "It went up. It's called fathead."

"Nah," James jumped back in. "He had the baby. What was it, Tully? Boy or girl?"

"What I got was a bad case of skin rash." Tully paused. "It's good this is our last task force meeting," Tully began to explain. "By now I'm sure you figured I'm from State. Carl suspected drugs were going though his ranch so he called us in, but we didn't want to raid his ranch until we found all the players. It was big. We raided his ranch last night, so now I can tell you what I know."

Tully didn't sound a bit ashamed as he grinned at Loni. "Sorry we stuck you in the middle of this, but we needed to feed information to someone we knew was clean."

"You were my secret admirer." Loni started laughing. "Why did you send me on so many shit jobs?"

"Carl and I were afraid that between your work and your grandma's illness that you'd be too tired to be careful. Don't get too mad. I did get Rebecca's fingerprint for you. You owe me twenty-eight dollars, too. I had to take her to lunch."

"It's worth it." Loni picked the money out of her billfold and dropped it in front of Tully, who shoved it in his pocket. At least I wasn't in the way, right?"

"No, but it's a good thing I read your reports. You didn't pass on much in the meetings."

Loni ducked her head.

Tully stretched out his long legs. "We had lots of requests for permits to grow and sell sex enhancement plants in residential areas, but when we busted a dealer selling cocaine to kids, he led us to one of these home businesses. We found cocaine packed in the bottom of the plant containers. Seems the dead coach and his wife helped finance the deal and hired O'Neal. They knew him from Fresno, where he ran a nursery."

James shook his head in amazement. "Who would have believed it? Anybody checking these plants were so curious about what it'd do for them sexually, they never bothered to search any further."

Tully scratched his chin. "Thing is, the drugs were added where the plants were actually grown. But we couldn't locate it."

"On Carl's ranch!" sputtered Loni.

Tully shrugged. "So we staked out the home for the next delivery and followed the truck to the other homes with permits and back to the airport where it met Larry's plane. It was easy to follow him back to Caliente, but then we hit a dead end. We knew when he booked trips to his drops in different cities, but we couldn't find out where he picked up the plants. About that time we got the call from Carl."

James picked it up from there. "Once you caught onto Chui, Loni, I kept an eye on him until he led us to Carl's ranch."

"That's why you were arresting that coyote at the bar? He was one of Chui's?" Loni said to James.

James nodded yes. "Both Rene and Larry brought illegals when they flew plants for the different home businesses. The residue you found in Rene's plane, Loni? It matched one of the cocaine batches. But we still hadn't found the source of the bad meth."

It was Tully's turn again. "When you stirred up the O'Neals, Steve and Teag went after you, which gave us cause for a warrant. Seems Steve was a meth head and decided to make and sell a little on the side since he had plenty of illegals to help him, thanks to Chui." Tully turned to Loni. "Remember the report I gave you about castor bean growers?"

"Sure. You told me they grew seedlings on Carl's ranch."

Tully nodded. "It was their main crop." A somber expression crossed his face. "Seems one of the workers accidently swept ricin dust left from castor bean seed sacks stored in front of his lab. Or so Steve claims. He said when he heard about the deaths, he intended to dump the bad meth and clean up the lab but he was so fried, he never got around to it."

"So Rene was part of the cocaine trafficking, not the meth."

"Right," Tully answered.

"What about the money?"

"We don't know. The Feds took that over. As you know, Rosie gave us the account numbers, and we got the names of the people who had the accounts from Rene's little book you sent to the lab."

James laughed. "We already did the hard work. All they had to do was arrest people and collect the money."

"Any reward on it?" Loni asked. "I need a new SUV."

"No, you don't." James smiled at her with warm exuberance. "Unless you don't want Carl’s job."

"Carl’s job? I don't understand."

"You're the new city detective if you want it."

In shock, Loni hesitated a minute before she leaped out of her chair to give James a bear hug. "All right! Can I have a vacation between jobs?"

"Yeah, yeah. You can have a few days," James said. "I'm taking two weeks after that. Just enough time for a honeymoon."

Loni stared at James. "When are you getting married?"

"Just as soon as you can come, partner."

Loni felt like the grin on her face was so big it was going to fall off. Hugging James was good. He smelled just like his dad.

CHAPTER 31

July 31, 8:02 p.m.

LONI AND LOLA WALKED out into the cool evening to watch the blue moon rise. Enlarged and yellowed by the dust in the air, it rose in a huge ball as twilight left the desert lit up in shades of purple and grey. "Wow!" Lola exclaimed. "I've never seen anything like this."

"Likely never will again."

"Did you know a blue moon is magical?"

"Why? Because it brings out the crazies?" Loni said teasingly.

"No, that's just a superstition." Lola pushed Loni and took her hand. "This is the time to decide what you want your future to look like."

"And that's not a superstition?"

"Not if you're very careful how you word your wishes." Lola grinned.

"Know what? Maybe the magic in the moon can make the magic in the hard road easier."

"What does that mean?"

"Bahb says the magic is when you walk the hard road and are still true to yourself. It'd be good if the blue moon could stick a little magic wadding on that road. Or better, maybe I could use you for a cushion." Loni wanted to reach over and touch Lola.

Lola walked on, her face toward the moon as though she were accepting its power. "I wonder how often we have a blue moon rising on the perigee?"

"What? Peri what?"

"It just means the moon's cycle is at its closest to the earth."

"I have no idea. I'll ask Bahb and Willie... shit!" Loni stopped.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not yet. I'm tired of crying."

Lola reached over and took Loni's hand again as they silently walked down the old desert road watching the bottom of the moon clear the horizon, silhouetting saguaro and barrel cactus in silvery tinges. Turning back, Loni nearly stepped on Bahb's old barn cat, pure white and deaf. He had been stalking Coco, who was ignoring him. "He can't catch birds so he's decided to follow Coco."

Lola leaned down and rubbed his head. "Good luck with that."

Watching, Loni said, "I do wish that cat would stay out of the road. I nearly ran over him this morning."

Lola smiled. "Still has eight left."

"How come we get only one life and a cat has nine?"

"Well," Lola answered. "We have more than one if we count the times we thought we would die of shame."

"Or love."

"Or boredom."

"Or fear." Loni continued.

"We could go on all day."

"Why'd you bring it up?

"I was thinking about that cat using up one of his lives." Loni paused. "I feel like I've used way too many of mine this month."

"You know what?" Lola stopped and shook Loni's arm. "You have. Every time you walked out your door I swear you deliberately put yourself in harm's way."

"Was that faint praise or were you calling me stupid."

"I haven't decided." Lola laughed and leaned forward, kissing Loni. Loni tried to follow the softness to deepen the kiss, but Lola stepped away again and opened the door to her car. "Where's your cat? I'd hate to be the one to use up her last life."

Loni picked up the cat and held him as she watched Lola's taillights fade into the night. Walking back to the house, she cuddled the purring cat as she absorbed the light around her. She could tell the slow, open flow of the desert was pulling her back in. How does it do that, she wondered.

FROM: Loni Wagner

TO: Sandi@gmailyahoo.com

DATE: July 31

SUBJECT: Staying here

It was a blue moon tonight. Lola and I watched it for a very long time. It was so large in the sky it seemed to be coming down upon us. We walked out on the desert and held hands and talked about its magic.

It felt so good to feel close to someone again as we walked. Lola knows all about things in the sky. She said she spent a lot of time staring up when she was with her husband. She was pretty much a prisoner and wasn't allowed to even shop. Why is it so hard to be good to each other?

I asked her to go out with me, but she said I still had some grieving to do. She did say when I was ready, I should ask her again. That's not a no, right?

Lots of love to all of you,

Loni

The End

About The Author:

Sue Hardesty was born and raised on the Arizona desert. Deciding to get out of the heat and enjoy listening to the sound of flushing toilets, she moved to the Phoenix area and taught Communications for 27 years. Retirement took her out of the heat altogether as she traveled far enough north to stop sweating. Her home for the last two decades has been on the beautiful Oregon Coast where she and her partner of forty-plus years run their dogs on the beach every morning. And where she occasionally even takes time to write a little. Her first published endeavor was a cookbook edited with Sue's partner Nel Ward and their good friend Lee Lynch called the butch cook book.

Book Back Summary

The Truck Comes on Thursday

LIFE SIZZLES for Highway Patroller Loni Wagner in a small Arizona desert town during the long summer nights. She sees it all — a plane wreck, freeway pileups, and dead bodies — as she investigates murders involving human smugglers, drug runners, and her old friend Carl. During the day, she faces high school enemies, a redneck sexist police chief who gives her unwanted jobs, and worries about her Native Indian grandparents — her grandmother is not well, and cattle rustling on their ranch is about to break them. Adding spicy flavors to this mix are two intriguing women, most especially one, who help her through it all as she struggles to move on from the death of her lover.

*  *  *

Thank You for Purchasing and Reading
The Truck Comes on Thursday.

L-Book ePublisher, LLC

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Table of Contents

The Truck Comes on Thursday

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

CHAPTER 30

CHAPTER 31

About The Author:

Book Back Summary

Table of Contents

The Truck Comes on Thursday

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

CHAPTER 30

CHAPTER 31

About The Author:

Book Back Summary