Installment #28
Chapters 52, 53 & 54
52
Walt started up the fence, gun in hand. The thought passed through his mind that the next sound he heard might be the gunshot of the bullet that killed him.
“Nice girl you picked,” Walt said to himself as he climbed the fence. “You definitely have a better eye for horses than you do women.”
When he finally reached Randall, Walt tucked his gun into his pants and situated himself so he could take Randall’s pulse at the jugular. Randall flinched and giggled.
“That tickles, damn it,” Randall said. “Quit it. I’m trying to be still so she don’t shoot me again.”
“Sorry. You shot?”
“Yeah. My ass. Figures. I’m caught on the wire too. It’s dug into my belly.”
Walt saw that Randall’s jeans were soaked with blood.
“We got to get you down,” Walt said.
Walt climbed over to the outside of the fence and grabbed the deputy’s belt.
“Now hold on a second,” Randall said.
Walt yanked, flipping Randall’s head-over-heels over the fence. As Randall’s lower half came down, the belt slipped from Walt’s grasp and the deputy cussed all the way to the ground where he landed with a thud. He groaned and rolled about.
“What the hell were you thinking?”
Walt climbed down the fence.
“Sorry. You okay?”
Randall opened his eyes, immediately spotting the gun tucked into Walt’s pants.
“I’ll be okay if the smoke and fire don’t get me,” Randall said. “Where’d you get that?”
“It’s registered,” Walt said. “Where’s Geri?”
“Out there,” Randall said, nodding toward the fires spread over the field. “Give me the gun.”
“No.”
“Give it to me.
“No,” I said.
“Give it.
“Sorry.”
Walt started off into the pasture.
“Walt, get back here!
Walt waved without turning around, walking toward the line of fire.
53
Walt shifted into a jog. His jog turned into a run. Walt clomped across the field, approaching the fire as fast as he could. He drew his gun.
As he reached flames, Walt covered his face and head with his arms and ran through the flames, a split second of intense heat.
On the other side, the ground was charred with embers still glowing. Walt coughed. Through the smoke he made out Geri standing, waiting. He thought she looked a little bored.
“Could have been sweet,” Geri said.
“I guess I thought it was,” Walt said, taking a step toward her, slowly. “For a while, anyway.”
“It still can be, baby.”
Walt didn’t answer her.
“Oh baby, “she said, putting her gun in her mouth.
“Geri don’t, please,” Walt said. “Hell, I came here thinking I might kill you. But I couldn’t, Geri. And I had reason enough to do it. Geri, if I can’t kill you…well, you can’t either.”
Geri lowered the gun, laughing.
“You know what, Walt? You are so right. I can’t.”
She turned the gun on Walt. He hit the ground, the gun firing wildly. He wasn’t sure if he heard two shots or three.
His nostrils filled with hot dirt as he buried his face in the scorched grass. He felt no pain, just a surge of elation that she had missed him completely. Then he heard footsteps.
Walt was afraid to look up—afraid of the sad truth on her face as she stalked him in order to finish him off. The fires popped and hissed behind him. Walt found the courage to look up, proud that his last act would be a brave one.
Through the curling smoke Walt saw Sheriff Cady approaching. His gun drawn, still pointed at Geri’s dead body sprawled on the smoldering range.
54
“Ice cream or pie?”
Mylinda, the waitress, stood behind the counter in the café, her arm cocked on her hip and smiling in red lipstick.
“We’re out of cake,” she said.
She waited for an answer while Walt finished his lunch, washing down the last bite of his cheeseburger with ice tea.
“So sorry,” she said, her face turning sincere under the layers of makeup.
“No need to apologize, people run out of cake,” Walt said.
“No, I mean about everything else,” Mylinda said. “I could tell when you came in here the other day. I could tell you were really attached to that woman. And to have all this happen. Well, it just makes a girl sick.”
Walt nodded. He found it interesting that Mylinda believed she could still get away with calling herself a girl. Then Walt’s stomach surged with panic and he scolded himself for the thought.
There it was, the fear that all he’d been through, everything that had happened to him since he’d met Geri, maybe all of it had hardened him. Hardened him to the point where he could barely stand it when someone was honest and earnest with him. Some things were hard to shake, he thought. Some you never do.
“Wonder what they’re going to do with her corpus,” Lyle, the rat-faced old man said.
He and George were sitting in a sunny booth near the window.
“They done got one body in her grave. Wonder where they’ll plant her?”
George shook his big round head.
“Don’t know. But wherever it is, Vern Mason damn well better be digging the hole in the ground.”
“Doubt they’ll let him out of the hoosegow long enough even to dig a grave,” Lyle said, laughing. “I tell you what, he’s going to be busy for a while. I guarantee you that much.”
“Think they’ll put Vern in the women’s prison with Diane?” George said. “Or would that be too tough for him?”
“Don’t know. But I don’t doubt she can stand it better than Vern.”
“You two are terrible,” Mylinda said, pouring them more coffee. “Why don’t you make fun of Randall while you’re at it, poor guy.”
“Heck no, “George said. “Shot is shot. Even if it is in the ass.”
“Could’ve got brain damaged,” Lyle said.
“Just ignore those old coots,” Mylinda said, returning behind the counter. “You decide yet?”
Walt looked up into Mylinda’s eyes. He considered begging her to decide for him.
“What kind of ice cream’s on the menu?”
“Vanilla, of course,” she said. “Chocolate. Chocolate Chip. And I think we got the last of that peanut butter ice cream left.”
“Why not? Peanut butter it is.”
While Mylinda bent over the freezer to scoop the ice cream, Walt finished his ice tea and pushed his plate away. Mylinda brought the dessert in a small glass ice cream bowl, setting it down on the counter alongside a spoon. She rested her hip against the counter as Walt dug into the ice cream.
“I bet you won’t miss Eden,” she said.
“I’ll be back soon enough,” Walt said, eating the ice cream quickly. “Sheriff Cady calls me his star witness.”
“Still, this place will always be, I don’t know, sort of tainted for you. Big old sore out here on the prairie, huh? Anybody ever mentions Eden, you’ll probably get all queasy. All that’s gone on, I don’t blame you. But it is a shame. Just a sorry shame. This is a nice town, nice place. Quiet. People probably gossip too much and there ain’t much work really. But I like knowing everybody. You get to watch all of life, cradle to grave, and people here have some of that pioneer spirit left over. Left over from the folks who settled the land. Tough, hearty. Sounds like a potato chip, don’t it? But we like it here. Nice sunsets. Long spring season. It’s home. It’s just a shame you’ll never know the real Eden. What’s the matter? You okay?”
Walt’s eyes were squeezed shut, his jaw locked. The frozen ache started in the back of his throat before hammering its way up into his forehead. He pounded on the counter, rattling the utensils and plates and cups.
“Ice cream headache,” he said.
After the pain melted away, Walt pushed what was left of the ice cream across the counter at Mylinda.
“Think I’ll have some of that pie after all,” Walt said. “To go.”