"I'm looking good and Barnum's looking bad," Wacey said. "I can live with that."
"I bet you can," Joe said. "Now answer one question for me."
"Fire away."
"Was Clyde Lidgard raising his rifle to shoot at you?"
Wacey shook his head no. "Not at me. He was aiming it at McLanahan. That's why McLanahan
started blasting."
"Then why did you shoot him twice? McLanahan was shooting buckshot, but you nailed the guy twice in the lungs with your rifle."
Wacey shrugged. "Wouldn't you want me there and ready if Clyde Lidgard had raised his rifle at you?"
Not long after Wacey left the hospital room, Joe felt another presence near his bed. When he opened his eyes, someone was looming over him in the dark. He hadn't realized that the lights in his room had been turned off. And he didn't understand how anyone other than a doctor could be in his room. For a moment, he forgot to breathe. But then he recognized the silhouette as belonging to Vern Dunnegan, his old supervisor, the man who cast the big shadow. Vern clicked on the bedside lamp.
"Hello, son," he said gently.
Joe could see Vern clearly now. Vern had gained some weight, but he'd been portly to begin with. Vern had a trimmed, dark beard flecked with gray that bordered a round, jovial face. He had a round nose and probing, dark eyes. His movements, despite his bulk, had always been swift, and he gave the impression of a man who carried himself well. Vern had a quick, jolly chuckle that would burble out at any time, in any situation. The chuckle often disguised what Vern was really thinking and what he might say or do. It was one of the things Marybeth had never liked about him. She found Vern patronizing, especially toward Joe. She said he was calculating and manipulative, and she didn't like her husband to be manipulated. As warden, Vern had an extremely high opinion of himself and his influence in the county and the state. Generally, he was right.
People knew him and respected him. Many feared him. But he had always considered himself to be a mentor to Joe. Vern's dealings with Joe had always been fair, and to Joe's advantage. It was Vern who had fought for Joe's moving back to the Saddlestring district, and he had made it happen. The fact that Joe was one of Vern's favorites didn't do him any harm within the agency either.
Vern sat down on the bed near Joe's knees. Joe felt the mattress sag.
"I just talked to Wacey," Vern said. "My boys did all right up there. How's your cheek where old Deputy McLanahan shot you?"
Joe nodded and said he was okay, just tired. Absently, he touched the bandage on his face.
"Need a drink? I've got my flask in my pocket. I'm drinking Maker's Mark these days instead of that old Jim Beam I was used to. I've moved up the bourbon hierarchy."
Joe shook his head no. He remembered how angry Marybeth used to get when he returned home late after drinking with Vern, pretending he'd "just had a couple of beers."
Vern seemed to read his mind. "How many kids do you and Marybeth have now?"
"Two. Sheridan and Lucy. And Marybeth's pregnant."
Vern chuckled and shook his head. "A loving wife, two wonderful kids. A house with a picket fence. Literally a picket fence. D'you still have your Lab?"
"Maxine. Yes."
Vern continued to shake his head and chuckle. "Tell me about Ote Keeley," Vern said.
Joe told him all of the details that Sheriff Barnum had never asked him about.
Dunnegan waved his hand when Joe began to recount the actions of the EMTs.
"Interesting," Vern said.
"You sent the shit pellets in?"
Joe nodded.
"Heard anything?"
"Not yet. I plan to call tomorrow."
"Let me know, will you? I'm still interested in this kind of stuff."
"Yup."
"How's Georgia?" Joe asked.
"She's fine, she's fine. She's living pretty well on the alimony I pay her," Vern said.
"I hadn't heard," Joe said, taken aback.
"You know, Joe, I came to a realization. That realization is that I'm a promiscuous man. I wasn't doing her any favors staying with her and chasing women on the side, as you know. One morning about eight months ago, I just woke up and rolled over and looked at her puffy face and decided I didn't want to ever do it again. Simple as that, I wanted to wake up next to other bodies-younger bodies, older bodies, bodies with big lips and big breasts. I wanted to hear other women's voices. So I packed my stuff and I didn't see her again until court."
Dunnegan smiled and shrugged, showing Joe palms-up and his 10 stubby fingers.
"It could happen to anyone," Vern continued. "Men are promiscuous. That's what we are. We try to pretend otherwise, but deep down we know it's true. We wake up with hard-ons and don't really care who's next to us as long as we can poke her."
Vern let out his trademark happy chuckle but his eyes were on Joe's face. In fact those eyes never left Joe's face as Vern talked, as he changed subjects from this to that, as he prodded and tested for what made Joe react. It was this probing, mildly sarcastic, offbeat quality that had made Vern such a good interrogator when he was a game warden.
"I mean it could happen to anyone except Joe Pickett, who is clean and pure and good," Vern said.
"I'm not sure exactly what you mean by that," Joe said.
Vern leaned forward and rolled the bed tray to him so he could put his elbows on it.
"Marybeth is a fine woman, I'm sure," Vern said.
"But wouldn't it be fun to get a piece of somebody else? Did you ever meet Aimee Kensinger? Don't you think about that? She likes guys like us. Guys in uniforms, who carry guns and work outside."
Joe looked away. He didn't like where this was going.
"Look at you, Joe. Tall, rangy. Gold-flecked brown eyes. Babes love solid guys like you."
"You didn't come here to talk to me about that," Joe said.
Vern chuckled and slid a paper napkin out from beneath a water container on the tray. Joe watched as Vern unfolded the napkin, then refolded it until it was in the shape of a rectangle. Vern drew a pen from his shirt pocket.
"This is the state of Wyoming." Vern said, sketching the border of Yellowstone Park in the northwest corner and the ranges of the Rocky Mountains from top to bottom on the napkin. Vern found the motorized bed control and raised up the head of it so Joe could see clearly.
"Joe, what we've got here are two pipelines currently under construction." Vern drew two heavy black lines from north to south on the east side of the mountains. "The idea is to start at the natural gas fields in Alberta, cross Montana and Wyoming, and be the first to hook up to the energy system
in Southern California. Inter West Resources, my new outfit, are the good guys.
CanCal our competitors, are the bad guys. Each pipeline costs about a million dollars a mile to build. Whoever gets there first is going to spend a fortune in order to make a gazillion dollars. Whoever gets there second just spends a fortune."
On the napkin, Vern drew the CanCal pipeline as it ran through the Powder River Basin to Central Wyoming near Lander then took a sharp left through the Wind River Mountains.
CanCal is working on environmental and regulatory approvals to take their pipeline over South Pass and on to L.A." For Los Angeles, Vern drew a set of dollar signs.