“Yeah. Kinda tall? Blond? Nice-looking guy?” Steve asked.
Harley McCall. Neal wished he had a chance to slap the real Paul Wallace all over again. Son of a bitch should have told me that they switched identities. Then again, I should have thought to ask.
“Yeah, that’s him. I usually don’t give credit unless they’ve been around awhile, but he had this cute little boy with him, and he was buying kids’ stuff-cereal, cookies…”
Neal wondered if they noticed the bass drum banging in the room-his heart beating a fast, steady boom-boom-boom.
Steve said, “Sorry, Evelyn, I haven’t seen him around in at least three weeks. Course, there’s no reason I would. I’m not over to Hansen’s much. I can ask Shelly to ask Jory if you want.”
Evelyn shook her head. “No, I don’t want to embarrass the man. But if you run into Hansen, tell him to tell his cowboy to come see me. Course, he’s probably moved on somewhere and stiffed me.”
I hope not, Evelyn. Boy, do I hope not.
“Cute kid, though,” Evelyn observed.
Neal put his stuff in the back of the pickup as Steve looked over to Brogan’s.
“I hate to waste gasoline on one errand,” Steve said.
“I’ll meet you over there,” Neal answered. “I want to make a call.”
He walked down to the gas station, where there was a phone booth. He dialed an 800 number.
“Give me one reason I shouldn’t fire you right now,” Levine said as he came on the phone.
“I think I’ve found McCall,” Neal answered.
“Okay, that’s one reason. Tell us where, we’ll have a crew on the next plane.”
“Too soon,” Neal answered. He told him about his conversation with Paul Wallace, his visit with Doreen, his luck with the Mills family, and what he had found out at the store.
“He may have moved on or he may be just lying low at the ranch,” Neal said. “Wait until I find out which.”
Joe Graham came on the line. “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been worried sick.”
“Sorry, Dad. Ed can fill you in. I’m fine.”
“Let me put a crew in place, anyway,” Ed said.
“There’s nowhere to put one, Ed. You’d spook everybody. I have to get going.”
He saw Cal Strekker coming. And there was something… just something…
Ed said, “Now Neal, just try to locate him. Don’t do anything, you got that? We’ve done some research on the True Identity Church, and-”
“Ed, activate that cover story.”
“Neal, what are you doing?” Ed demanded.
Strekker was getting closer.
“Ed, just get me covered! I have to go!”
“Carey, you don’t-”
Neal hung up the phone. Cal Strekker was walking right past him.
“Bitch!” Neal shouted to the phone.
Cal stopped and sneered. “Woman trouble?” he asked.
“Is there any other kind?” Neal answered.
“Stick to whores,” Cal answered. “You pay ’em, you poke ’em, they give you any shit, you smoke ‘em.”
Okaaaay, Neal thought.
Levine buzzed down to the operator.
“Where?” he asked.
“Austin, Nevada.”
Levine looked at Graham. “It’s possible.”
Graham nodded. Since the failed bag job they had devoted their energies to researching Carter’s church. What they had learned was disturbing.
“We should start working the other end,” Levine said.
“Yeah. But carefully. If we screw up we could get the kid killed,” said Graham.
“Which kid?” Levine asked. “Cody McCall or Neal Carey?”
“Both.”
Neal walked into Brogan’s just behind Cal Strekker. There was a beer waiting for him on the bar. He had to step over a sleeping Brezhnev to get to it. Brogan was snoozing in his chair.
“Get your call made?” Steve asked.
“Yeah.”
Neal didn’t volunteer any more information and Steve didn’t ask for any. Strekker grabbed a beer from the fridge and moved down to the end of the bar to his customary stool.
“Doesn’t Hansen expect you to do any work?” Steve asked him. It was a joking tone, but it had an edge on it.
“Got a big load of barbed wire in the truck,” Cal answered. “Thought I’d stop off for a beer, if that’s okay with you.”
“It’s okay with me,” said Steve. “What’s Bob got you doing? Making another breeding pen?”
“I expect if Mr. Hansen wants to discuss his business with you, he will.”
Which in that part of Nevada came pretty damn close to rudeness.
Steve nodded. “Cal, I’ve known Bob Hansen for nigh unto twenty years. I helped him build some of those fences he’s got on his place. In those days we used to take turns, helping each other bring our herds down for the winter. That’s before he could afford top-talent professional cowboys like you.”
“We should be getting back,” Neal said.
“No hurry,” Steve said. The edge was a little sharper.
“I’m not a cowboy,” Cal answered. “I’m a mechanic. And head of security.” Steve guffawed and sprayed beer out his mouth. Some of it landed on Brezhnev and he woke up and growled, which woke Brogan up too. He gave Steve an evil eye and settled back into his chair.
“Security!” Steve bellowed. “What does Bob Hansen need security for?”
“Rustlers. Horse thieves.”
“Shit,” Steve said, chuckling.
“There’ve been some rustlers around,” Strekker said defensively.
Steve downed his whiskey chaser. “Oh, hell, I know that. I lost a cow just last week. I figure it’s only some old back-to-the-earth hippies with a flashlight and a truck. Maybe two or three Paiutes from the res who spent their government checks on hooch and need to feed their kids. Hardly the goddamn James gang. And as for horse thieves, why are they going to take a shot at your remuda when the whole valley is lousy with herds of mustangs eating our cows’ grass? Thanks to the goddamn federal government, by the way. Head of security.”
Cal Strekker flushed with anger. “You can sure talk, Mills, that’s for sure.”
“That’s ‘Mr. Mills’ to you. Or ‘Steve.’ Now, why don’t you do something useful, head of security, and tell Paul Wallace to pay his tab at the store.”
The name struck a nerve.
“Wallace moved on,” Strekker said.
Neal saw Strekker’s eyes widen just a bit, saw the intake of breath that held just a little too long. You’re lying, Neal thought. Harley/ Paul McCall/Wallace has not moved on.
“Then tell Hansen,” Mills said.
“If Evelyn loaned Wallace money, that’s between her and Wallace. It doesn’t have anything to do with the Hansen Cattle Company.”
Steve stood up and put his hat on. “I’ll tell you what,” he said to Strekker. “You tell Bob Hansen what I’ve told you, and he’ll drive in here personally, apologize to Evelyn, and pay the money with interest.
“You think so, huh?” Strekker sneered.
“I know Bob Hansen.”
I wonder if you do, Neal thought. I wonder if you do. He followed Steve onto the street.
Steve hopped into the truck, pulled a cigarette from the glove compartment, and lit it up. He exhaled some of his anger with the smoke.
“He pisses me off,” Steve said. “Bob’s hired himself some real losers lately, all right. Come-lately, drifter trash. No offense,” he added quickly.
“No problem. I thought for a second there was going to be a fight back there.”
“Me too,” Steve chuckled. “Well, it would have sparked up an otherwise dull morning. Let’s go back and get you settled in your new home on the range.”
Yeah, and then find out just how good security is in the Hansen Cattle Company.
They drove as close as they could to the cabin. The truck bounced and protested but moved across the hard-packed sagebrush. They stopped just shy of the creek and then carried the supplies across.
A big black horse, loosely tied to a branch, was grazing lazily.
“That’s Dash,” Steve said, “Shelly’s favorite.”
Shelly and Peggy were in the cabin, cleaning furiously.
They’d done a great job. The cabin was a small, square one room. A metal bed occupied a corner in the back. The bed had just been made up with fresh sheets, an army blanket, and an Indian blanket. An old barrel sufficed for a nightstand. A kerosene lamp on the barrel would serve as a reading light.