“You don’t sound so very patriotic.”
“Hitler was patriotic.”
Terry watched the man and boy again.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Terry said. He got up and walked off toward the fish ladder.
Ogden watched the big game-cop slowly cover the forty yards. Then he had a thought that he should follow, so he did. When the man on the bridge saw Terry approaching he put his hand on the boy’s back and guided him toward the other side of the bridge and the parking area. Terry broke into a trot. He caught up to the pair before either could climb into the cab of the red dually pickup. By the time Ogden walked to them, Terry had the man in handcuffs.
“What’s up?” Ogden asked.
“Got us a poacher.” Terry reached into the bed of the truck and flipped off the lid of a large Styrofoam ice chest. In it were at least ten good-sized trout.
Ogden studied the fish. “How?”
Terry pointed the man’s left leg. “Looky here.” He pulled a line at the top of the man’s waistband; the hook at the other end of it caught the bottom of the pant leg and yanked it up a couple of inches. “He was pulling fish up through his pants and walking them back here.”
“How’d you know?” Ogden asked.
“You catch bandits and speeders. I catch poachers. What I was trained by the state of Texas to do.”
“Still.”
“He left the kid alone too many times. Plus he limped only when he walked away.” Terry laughed. “Trouser trout.”
“You taking him in?”
“He’s got fish from a hatchery. That’s a serious offense.” Terry took the man’s wallet out of his back pocket. “Conrad Hempel. Well, Mr. Hempel, looks like this just isn’t your day.”
“You’re forgetting one minor detail,” Ogden said.
“What’s that?”
“The minor.”
Terry looked at the boy. He was standing next to the wide wheel well. “How old are you, son?” Terry asked.
“Eleven.”
“This here your father?”
“My uncle.”
“Where’s your father?”
“He’s at home.”
Terry looked at Ogden. “The deputy here will drive you home. You know where you live?”
“Of course I know where I live.”
“And where’s that?” Ogden asked.
“Eagle Nest.”
Ogden closed his eyes and slowly shook his head. It would take him at least two hours to get the kid home and then get back to Plata. By then it would be four and his day off would be over, more or less. “What’s your name?”
“Willy.”
“Willy Hempel?”
“No. My name is Willy Yates.”
“And you live in Eagle Nest.”
“That’s what I said.”
“Is there anyone at your house?” Ogden asked. “Are either your mother or father at home?”
“I got no mother.”
“What about your father?”
“I don’t know,” the boy said.
Ogden considered the prospect of driving all the way to Eagle Nest and finding either that the boy had no idea where he lived or his father was not there and nowhere to be found.
“You sure you want to run him in?” Ogden said. “Can’t you just cite him and get this over with?”
“What he said,” the man in cuffs said.
“I wish I could, but you know about the initiative to cut down poaching,” Terry said.
Ogden regarded the boy for a second. “Do you know your phone number?”
The boy shook his head.
Ogden looked at the uncle. “Do you know his father’s phone number? His address?”
“No and no.”
“Then where’d you pick up the boy?” Ogden asked.
“I know where the boy’s house is. That don’t mean I know the address.”
Ogden looked at the boy again. He seemed sort of small for eleven, but he had a big and somewhat annoying attitude. Ogden was pretty sure he disliked that. He was absolutely sure he didn’t like the fact that he was now responsible for Willy Yates.
Ogden took down Hempel’s information from his driver’s license. “Is this your current address?” The man said yes. “You live way down near Embudo?”
“That’s where my house is at.”
“And you picked up this boy in Eagle Nest when?”
“This morning.”
“Why?”
“Because his daddy had something to do.”
“What relationship is the boy’s father to you?”
“None.”
Ogden looked at Terry.
“Then how is it that you’re the boy’s uncle??”
“Because my sister is his mama.”
“Then the father is your brother-in-law,” Terry said. “Why didn’t you just say that?”
“He ain’t married to my sister.”
“Oh.”
“Where’s the boy’s mother?” Ogden asked.
“She moved to Lancaster, Pennsylvania, with some religious biker dude.”
“What’s the father’s name?” Ogden asked.
“Derrick Yates.”
“How did he call you to pick up the boy?”
“He didn’t call me. I just stopped by and he said for me to watch Billy.”
“Willy,” the boy corrected him.
“Whatever,” Hempel said.
“Terry, this is a mess,” Ogden said. Ogden looked at the pair. Was this man the boy’s uncle? Did the boy’s father live in Eagle Nest? Was there a father?
“What are you saying?” Terry asked.
“Okay.” Ogden caved. “I’ll take the boy,” he said. “I’ll find out where his father is.”
Ogden put the boy in his rig and drove south. He was headed back to the station in Plata even though he had asked Felton to try to track down a Derrick Yates in the Eagle Nest area. He stole glances at Willy, wondered what his story was, and tried not to care too much. “What does your father do?” Ogden asked.
Willy looked at him.
“What’s his job?”
“I don’t know. He does things. He’s got a truck. He’s got a ladder on his truck.”
“Does he have tools?”
“I guess.”
“Hammers and saws? Those kinds of tools?”
“I don’t know.”
“What kind of truck does he drive?” Ogden asked.
“Why do you wanna know all this?” the boy asked. “It’s a blue truck, okay?”
Felton radioed. “I got four Yates in the area. Two with the initial D. I called them both, no answer.”
“What roads do they live on?”
“One on Iron Queen, one on B4G.”
“Iron Queen or B4G?” Ogden asked the boy.
Willy just looked out the passenger-side window.
“Thanks. Out.” He looked at his speedometer and saw that he was driving too fast, pulled back. “You really don’t know the name of the street you live on?”
“Don’t live on a street. Live down a road.”
“Okay, kid.”
They walked into the station and Ogden told Willy to have a seat beside his desk. Felton told him there was nothing else to know about a Yates in Eagle Nest.
“Bucky in there?” Ogden asked.
Felton nodded.
Ogden walked into the sheriff’s office.
“So, what’s going on out there?” Bucky asked. The fat man was sitting at his desk, staring at his computer screen. “I hate these damn machines. God, I’m sick of hearing myself say that.”
“I got stuck with a kid. Terry from Fish and Game arrested this guy for poaching trout and he left me with his so-called nephew.”
“So take him home.”
“That’s the problem. Seems the lad doesn’t know his address, not even his street name. Oh, I’m sorry, he doesn’t live on a street, he lives down a road.”
“We should be able to figure something out,” Bucky said. “Bring him in here. I’ve got some cookies in my desk.”