“What about the driver?”
Dan smiled. “A couple years ago, he got himself into quite a fix with a woman and that woman’s husband and Carl and some of Carl’s friends sorted that out, so he’s paying back, we’re not paying him.” He thought for a minute. “You know George Beck, the big fellow?”
“No,” I said.
“You’ll meet him, maybe. Anyway, he fixed it.”
“And the rest of the money is mine?”
“Call it salary,” Dan said.
“That sounds good to me,” I said.
Dan patted the top porch rail. “Then welcome home,” he said. “As far as I’m concerned.” He walked across the gravel back to his place and Rose waved to me through the window.
I turned the garage into a fix-it shop. It had the one-car bay, three stools, and a room in the back with a cot. Lots of tools and the woodstove on one side. I sharpened chains and sold new ones for the loggers and fixed their saws. Sold bar and chain oil. The garage air compressor worked and guys were always stopping by for air in their tires. The business brought in enough to pay the rent and the one twenty-five I kept from the gas business felt good in my pocket. I listened to the loggers talk about Montana fires and wealthy landowners who had set up their own fire stations and association. A sort of committee on wildfire vigilance. But the summer fires burned regardless and having spotters in homemade watchtowers didn’t help.
At night I slept in the house and looked at the stuffed heads on the walls. Carl’s small house was filled with antlers and wall mounts. A ratty-looking brown horse and a burro were penned in the field next door and behind. Sometimes a sleek black horse came out and ran through the field. I fed them apples. Dan and Rose were friendly. A warm apple pie sat on my porch two days after I moved in. I watched their lights go on and off in the night. If I got up early enough, I could listen to one of them snore through the thin trailer walls. I sent Carl’s mail to Alaska for him, what little there was of it, and made sure the envelope was on Dan’s porch every Friday.
She pulled in one Friday evening, right next to the garage. She had a tan cowboy hat pushed back on her bright blond hair. “Put this in the garage,” she said. “Close the door. I’m Carl’s sister Penny from Lewiston.” She paused. “Is Carl here?”
“No,” I said. “He’s in Alaska.”
“Lucky you.” She winked at me. “He doesn’t do me a damn bit of good in Alaska. “
Her tits swayed in her denim shirt just a little as she shut the car door. Tight jeans with a big silver cowboy belt buckle that showed off her small waist. She was gas on the fire. She walked down the driveway, into the house, and I watched her the whole way and she knew it.
I put the car in the garage, turned the lights off, and made sure the place was locked. I went into the house.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
Penny sat on the couch in the front room and took the cowboy hat off. “My boyfriend’s after me,” she said. “Boyfriend” didn’t sound right, coming from her. She was a woman, not a girl, probably in her late thirties. “I’m staying here tonight.”
“Okay,” I said. “Do you want to go to Moscow for pizza? I was just going.”
“You get it,” she said. “I’m staying here.”
On the drive to Moscow, I thought about my chances of going to bed with her and decided that they weren’t good and that it might screw stuff with Carl. The whole arrangement, the rental with no paperwork, the gas business, the garage. I couldn’t let that slip away for big tits and a hot ass. I got to the pizza place and ordered and watched the college girls while I waited. Penny ranked right up there. I put the pizza on the front seat and drove back.
When I got there, a big guy I didn’t know was sitting on the front porch smoking a cigarette. He threw it into the gravel and stood up. I guessed he was six seven or more, close to three hundred pounds. The type of man you have to shoot twice. I figured it was Penny’s boyfriend and this could get mean in a hurry.
“I’m George Beck,” he said. “Good friend of Carl’s.”
We shook hands. I said, “What can I do for you?”
“You must be Ed Snider.”
“That’s right.”
“You going to be here tonight?” he said.
“Yeah.”
“Good. Penny’s staying here until we can get a handle on her boyfriend.”
“What’s his name?” I asked.
“Tim Shipman,” he said. “You don’t know him, do you? We all call him Ships.”
“No, I don’t know him,” I said. “What makes you think he’ll come here?”
“You’ve seen Penny,” he said. “If you thought she was here, wouldn’t you drive up here from Lewiston?”
“Sure,” I said. “I’d have already been here.”
“You can see I came right away,” he said, “and Penny and I broke up years ago. She’ll look at you and fuck up your brain.” He reached inside his coat and brought out a pistol, nine-millimeter, and tried to hand it to me. “Here,” he said. “Ships is violent. This is in case he needs convincing.” He held the piece out to me, butt first.
I wouldn’t touch the gun. “I’ll be here,” I said. “And that’s all that’s necessary.” Never touch another man’s gun, because you never know what its bullets have hit. I was trying to get out of the habit of handling guns.
George slipped the pistol back inside his coat, “Suit yourself,” he said, “but Ships will be strapped, so I’m just telling you.” He scratched his head. Something about this wasn’t quite going as planned for him.
“I’ll be here,” I repeated.
“Carl will appreciate that,” George said. “I mean, the other thing you ought to know about Penny is that she probably did cheat on Ships or rip him off or whatever.”
“I’ll keep an eye out.” I noticed that some makeup stained the shoulder of his jacket.
“Good,” George said. “We’ve got some buddies in Lewiston and around and we’ll take care of this.” I stood looking at the ground and George went on. “Wouldn’t have happened if Carl hadn’t gone to Alaska.” I wanted to ask why but didn’t. “I’m the guy around here that gets shit done,” he said. He took off and I went inside the house.
That night Penny stayed with me at Carl’s place. As soon as George left and we ate the pizza, she wanted the lights off. We sat in the dark on the couch. There were only the cars passing on the main road. The lights reflected off the marble eyes of the stuffed animals. We sat there for two hours without saying a word. I watched the back field. The moon shone bright and full. The black horse was running around for some reason, but I couldn’t tell which was the horse and which was the shadow. They both looked alive. Penny dozed off and I watched her small breathing, her lips and perfect nose.
Then a car pulled off the road. The door slammed and I heard footsteps over to the garage and then up to the door. The handle jiggled.
“Carl?” a man’s voice asked the night. “Carl, it’s me, Ships. Is Penny here?” There was a pause. “Penny?”
She was up now. She pulled me close and put her mouth on my car. “Pretend you’re Carl,” she whispered. “Use a deep voice, he won’t know.” Her hand was on my thigh.
I tried to use the voice I’d heard on the phone. “What?” I said in Carl’s voice. “Who is it?”
“Carl,” the voice said, relieved. “Carl, look, is Penny here?”
Now I was Carl. “What the hell’s going on, Ships?”
“She owes me a lot of money,” he said, “and she’s going all around town talking.”