ere, there,” he said. “Don’t take on so, girl.”
Jim Bob and Eva Lou, en route to the door, happened by at that precise moment. Jim Bob stopped and looked down at the little old man in puzzled consternation, as if trying to remember the name of someone he knew.
“Henry?” he asked tentatively. “Is that you?”
Uncle Henry smiled broadly. “Jimmy B? I’ll be damned. The last time I saw you, you were still in short pants. It’s a shame that it takes such a sad occasion to get together after all these years. I mean, I barely remember what the original argument was about all those years ago, and now it doesn’t matter.”
“Uncle Henry?” Joanna asked.
Jim Bob nodded. “He’s my mother’s second-oldest brother. He and the rest of the family had a falling out years ago, when I was just a boy. Uncle Henry, this is Joanna, my daughter-in-law.”
Uncle Henry nodded. “Glad to make your acquaintance, and this is Cora. She’s actually my third wife’s niece-my wife’s dead now-but that’s too confusing, so we just say she’s my niece. She’s a dancer during the weekends, but she helps out in the office during the week.”
“Office?” Jim Bob asked. “What office?”
Uncle Henry waved impatiently. “Now that I’m too old and broke up to go out prospecting any more, I’ve got me a little one-man office in Searchlight. Sell a few things now and then, lease a few mineral rights here and there. That’s where Andy’s little windfall came from, by the way. Over the years, I’d put one of the grandnephews’ names on a claim, and if that one came in, I’d send them the money. Told ‘em not to say where it came from, of course. Didn’t want ‘em to get in trouble for having anything to do with an old black sheep.”
Cora blew her nose. “You’re not so bad for a black sheep,” she said. “And none of those kids ever turned the money down, either.”
“Including you,” he said with a smile.
She nodded. “Including me.”
“And you only give the gifts in cash?” Joanna asked.
Uncle Henry straightened in his chair. “Young woman, the Income Tax is the most abominable piece of illegal legislation ever palmed off on this land, but it exists. And to my mind, the only thing lower than a revenuer is a banker, so I try to conduct my business in a way that keeps those vermin out of it. If I give away less than ten thousand dollars at a time, nobody gets excited. And if I do it in cash, I don’t have to deal with banks. If I have a gift to be delivered, Cora usually handles it for me on her days off from the casino. I don’t like banks, but it’s still a very bad idea to send that much cash through the mail, understand?”
“Yes,” Joanna answered. “I believe I do.” “Where are you staying?” Jim Bob asked. “Well, I had thought we’d stay at a place called the Copper Queen Hotel, but evidently, that’s not too easy to get in and out of in a wheelchair, so we’ve got a couple of rooms at a place called the El Cobre Lodge.”
Joanna was still trying to sort things out. “So the money Cora gave Andy was from some kind of mining claim?”
“Some guys out of Elko,” Uncle Henry said. “They leased it for exploratory purposes, and I gifted half of what they paid to Andy. Those guys’ll have six months with an option for six more after that. I can’t tell if they’re for real or not, but their money was good. If there’s more coming, believe me, you and your little girl will get it.”
“Thank you,” Joanna said. “Thank you very much.”
Not long after that, she headed home, glad to have escaped the crush of people in the mortuary, but knowing that back home at the ranch, there would be more of the same. And she was right. When she drove into the yard, she counted at least ten cars scattered here and there. Inside the house several of the ladies from the church choir were busily trying to find places in the burgeoning refrigerator for yet another donated covered dish.
Joanna paused in the kitchen long enough to pour herself a glass of white wine, then she wandered into the living room. It wasn’t exactly a party. It was her home, but she wasn’t exactly the hostess and she wasn’t exactly a guest either. The women managing the kitchen were most insistent in telling her that she was expected to mingle and not lift a hand to do any of the work.
On the couch at the far end of the room she spotted Milo Davis sitting with Jenny. When she got close enough, she saw that Jenny had dragged out her old copy of Winnie the Pooh and was patiently explaining to Milo the origin of her new dog’s name.
“Hi, Mom,” Jenny said, when Joanna sat down on the couch behind her. “Mr. Davis never heard of Tigger before. Can you believe that?”
Joanna smiled and nodded her head. “I can believe it all right,” she said.
“Did you try any of the lemon chiffon pie that Mrs. Davis sent over? It’s my favorite.”
“Maybe I’ll have some later.”
Eventually Jenny got up and wandered away. Joanna turned to Milo Davis. “They tell me you’re promoting Joanna Brady as a candidate for sheriff. Are you trying to get rid of me?” she asked.
“That’s not exactly what I meant,” Milo returned. “It’s just that sometimes the best man for a job is a woman, at least that’s what my mother always used to say. I think she was a little before her time.”
“Milo,” Joanna said seriously, “I don’t want to be sheriff of Cochise County. I happen to like selling insurance.”
“Who else is going to do it?” he asked. “Look what you did the other night.”
“What I did that night was personal, Milo. Jenny and my mother were at risk. My husband was murdered. Most people in my position would have done exactly the same thing.”
Milo Davis shook his head. “What you did for this county was a lot more than settle a personal score. That drug business and the corruption in the sheriff’s department must have been going on for years, and it would have kept right on if you hadn’t taken a stand and done something about it. And who else knows more about the sheriff’s department than you? One way or the other, you’ve been around it all your life. Maybe there are people who work there who’ve been around longer, but none of them can run, not right now because of the scandal. It’s a wide-open race, Joanna, and we’ve got to have someone who’s squeaky clean. You’re it. You’ll win hands down.”
“ Milo, I don’t want to do this.”
“Neither did your daddy when he took it on, Joanna, but it was a time very much like this, a time when the old administration needed to be swept out with a clean broom.
This kind of thing never would have happened on old D.H.’s, watch, now would it?”
Joanna shook her head. “No,” she agreed. “It never would have.”
“Back then, in your dad’s time, Kiwanis was the thing to do if you wanted to go someplace,” Milo continued. “When he got elected, he joined up and never missed a single meeting until the day he died. We didn’t have women in the club back then, and there was a whole lot more high jinks than goes on today. W e all had a nickname for your dad, a secret nickname. Did he ever tell you about that?”
“No. Not that I remember.”
“The whole time I knew him, he only went by his initials. We were always teasing him and telling him he needed to have a real name. Finally we gave him one. We told them that his real name was Desert Heat on account of him being a cop. It was kind of hokey, I guess, an in crowd joke, but he seemed to get a bang out of it.”
Milo studied his listener’s face, waiting to if D. H. Lathrop’s daughter would smile at the joke. She didn’t. Joanna Brady was way beyond smiling.
“It seemed funny back then,” he said with sigh. “Maybe you had to be there.”
By the time Joanna finished that one glass wine, she had moved beyond her ability to socialize as well. She tracked Eleanor down in a small group in the dining room. “Are you going home tonight, or are you going to stay here?” Joanna asked.