Joe looked up. He had no idea, although one was forming.
***
JOE REMEMBERED PASSING under a telephone in the dark hallway It was an old-fashioned, wall-mounted rotary-dial telephone, probably installed there years before, for the use of ranch hands, who were no longer needed on Finotta's hobby ranch.
As he and Stewie had descended the mountain, Joe had practiced over and over the first words he would say to Marybeth. He would tell her how much he loved her, how much he missed her, how much he loved their girls. How he would never again approach a suspect's location without proper backup. Joe didn't even care if Stewie was standing next to him to overhear; his emotions were heartfelt and boiling within him.
He picked up the receiver and was about to dial when he realized there were voices on the line. It was a party line, presumably connected to the ranch house.
"Who is that?" someone asked. "Did somebody just pick up a phone?"
"I didn't hear it," another voice said.
"I heard a click," another, deeper voice intoned.
"Don't worry, gentlemen." Joe recognized this voice as belonging to Jim Finotta. It was louder and more clear than the others, due to Finotta's proximity "I'm the only one here, so it's not on my end.
These lines are old."
No doubt Finotta had long forgotten about the unused phone in the outbuilding. Stewie was now leaning against Joe, his face in Joe's face so they could both hear. Joe cupped his hand over the mouthpiece and listened. It was a conference call and there were at least six men on the line. There was a meeting going on, and Jim Finotta seemed to be presiding. One of the voices called Finotta "chairman."
"You know what this is?" Stewie hissed, his eyes bulging, "You know what this is?"
Joe shot Stewie a cautionary glance and gripped the mouthpiece harder so they wouldn't be heard.
"This," Stewie said through clenched teeth, "is an emergency meeting of the Stockman's Trust!"
THE DISCUSSION WAS rushed at times, and participants talked over one another. The only voice Joe could clearly discern was Jim Finotta's, who was five hundred feet away in the ranch house.
What Joe heard was fascinating, disturbing, and disgusting. He wished he had his small pocket tape recorder with him so he could tape the conversation and use it later as evidence at the murder trial.
Finotta: "He's dead in my bunkhouse right now I don't know what in the hell to do with him. Does anyone want him?"
Laughter
Gruff voice: "What happened to John Coble? Did he say?"
Finotta: "He said Coble turned tail and tried to inform Stewie Woods. Charlie caught him at the cabin and put him down. Coble's remains burned up in the cabin when Charlie torched it."
Gruff voice: "Thank God for that."
Fast voice: "I'm surprised at Coble. I thought he was more solid than that."
Finotta: "You just never know what a guy is going to do under pressure. But we have another matter at hand."
Texas twang: "Soooo, you have a body and you don't know what to do with it. Do you have any hogs, Jim? They'll eat just about anything."
Finotta: "No, this is a cattle ranch."
New voice: "Jim, you've got to come clean with us about this game warden deal. It really disturbs me that a game warden somehow got involved. He had absolutely nothing to do with our effort."
Gruff voice: "I sure as hell agree with that."
Finotta: "Charlie Tibbs said the game warden was at the cabin when he got there. He called me about it and explained the situation, and I told him to proceed. It was just a bad coincidence that the game warden was in the middle of everything when Charlie took action. Besides, I knew the guy He's the local game warden. Name is Pickett, Joe Pickett. He's been a pain in my side recently"
Silence.
New voice: "I still think Charlie went way over the line. You should have let us know about this, Jim."
Gruff voice: "Before now, we mean. Now it's too late."
New voice: "That's why we have an executive board--to agree on these things. No one has the authority to just willy-nilly decide who lives and who dies. Not even you. That's why we made that list in the first place--to clearly define all of the targets."
Finotta: "Can't we discuss this later? I've got Charlie Tibbs in my bunkhouse and we don't know where in the hell Stewie Woods and the game warden are."
Gruff voice: "Probably dead of exposure. You say the local sheriff sent out a helicopter to look for them?"
Finotta: "Yes, but the weather got bad and the helicopter was grounded. But the pilot and spotter never saw anybody"
Gruff voice:" Yup, those two saps are worm food by now."
Texas twang: "But Charlie got that lawyer and that wolf woman, that's what I'm hearing?"
Finotta: "That's what Charlie said."
Gruff voice: "So he cleared the entire list, huh?"
Texas twang: "That Charlie was something, wasn't he?"
Joe despised these people. He held the phone away from him, stunned. Stewie had been so close as they listened that Joe felt uncomfortable. Stewie had been practically on top of him, pressing closer to hear. They both smelled bad after their time in the mountains, but in Joe's opinion, Stewie smelled worse. Joe felt a tug on his belt. Then Stewie suddenly wrenched the telephone from Joe's hand, and held the receiver to his mouth.
"You were wondering about Stewie Woods?" Stewie cut in. "Guess what? It's your lucky day, you assholes!"
"Who the hell was that, Jim?" Joe heard the Gruff Voice say before Stewie slammed down the phone.
When Joe reached to retrieve the telephone, Stewie pointed something so close to Joe's eyes that Joe couldn't focus on what it was. The blast from his own canister of pepper spray hit Joe full in the face and eyes and he went down as if his feet had been kicked out from under him.
"Sorry buddy" he heard from somewhere above him. Joe was thrashing, his arms and legs jerking involuntarily his lungs burning. He tried to speak but his voice only made a hoarse, bleating sound he couldn't recognize. A jet turbine roared in his ears. His head was on fire and his eyes felt like they were being burned from their sockets by a blowtorch. He was literally paralyzed, and excruciatingly painful muscle spasms shot through his body Coughing and gasping for breath, he felt himself being pulled across the floor. His hands were wrenched together. Through the howl of the jet engine in his ears, he heard the phone being ripped from the wall and felt the phone cord looping around his wrists and being knotted tightly Then he heard the unsnapping of his holster.
37
It took twenty minutes for Joe Pickett to recover enough from the pepper spray to stand up. His eyes and throat still burned, and it seemed as though most of the liquid in his body had drained out of him in bitter streams through his nose, mouth, and eyes. He leaned against the wall in the hallway next to the telephone that Stewie had ripped from the wall as he left, and tried to shake the fog from his head.
Slowly at first, he regained control of his legs and moved down the hall, clomping unsteadily like Frankenstein's monster. He kept his left shoulder against the plaster for balance until he reached the door to the stairway He descended the stairs one deliberate step at a time and held the rail with both tied hands. The building was empty; the black Ford truck still parked with both doors--and the toolbox--open.
Joe shouldered the overhead door open and stood outside, gasping damp fresh air and blinking back tears from the sting of the pepper spray He turned toward the ranch house, where he presumed Stewie Woods had gone.
The front gate was open and so was the massive front door. Joe entered, stopped, tried to see in the gloom. On the floor was the writhing body of Buster the ranch hand. Buster's hands were covering his face, and he was rolling from side to side, whimpering. Pepper spray, Joe thought. Probably a shot of it from Stewie on the way in and a second shot of it a few minutes ago, judging by the whiff of the spray still hanging in the air.