The Years In Between
The Army subsumed Vin into its ranks but unlike his family allowed him all of the faceless anonymity a man like himself could want until they needed him to act.
He remembers that time the way most people remember a dream. Vivid and surreal for all of the banal details. Endless days of routine and order interrupted by sudden flight to a black op mission where he would be left to wait again until his target was in site. A humble man required to act like the eye of God, unblinking, still and wrathful. Through the same cross-hairs he saw hostages and citizens running and staggering to or from their rescuers. And then with the same suddenness he stepped through the mirror again to find that he had been gone for weeks, sometimes months and in his absence a life he felt ever further removed from went on without him. Chanu married Claire while he turned twenty-two in a hostile country. The thick wedding invitation remained unopened. Nettie sent candy and coffee and seemed satisfied with an occasional postcard. In an Army hospital in Germany he fought through the pain of a bullet wound in his shoulder and the medication that dulled him to find that a thin letter from Nettie, several weeks old, had finally found him. It told him that Ko-Je had passed away in his sleep and asked him for the first time to let her know that he was well and coming home soon.
When he did return home, no longer a soldier but a man with both state secrets and his own, he left his Purple Heart at the arroyo where Ko-Je's ashes had been scattered.
Nettie, distracted by her grief, fussed over Vin for days and he let her, feeling the same urge to make things right and knowing he couldn't. Then, as if coming out of a fog she woke early one morning and began packing. A small stack of boxes contained only the most necessary items to set up a new home along with the hepplewhite chair Vin had used to secure his door. The house that Vin grew up in was sold with speed in mind and not profit and despite the ache he felt leaving it behind he helped her move to a small apartment in downtown Tascosa.
Seeing her there, making the best of an untenable situation he felt his grief as if he had lost her, too. Sensing this, Nettie sent him on his way, both of them knowing the only thing they could do was outlive their grief.
Vin found himself in Dallas searching out his Army buddy Bobby who assured him of a job as a bounty hunter if Vin could find his way out of the Panhandle. The work was steady and turned the states into a great social laboratory if not a home. Human behavior played itself out before him in all its many manifestations. Loyalties were tested and some held while others fell by the wayside. Dangerous men who seemed unafraid of anything else would hide out in their mother's den even when they had the means to go anywhere.
Bobby, grateful for the revenue Vin brought in never mentioned how Vin would sometimes stay in whatever city he caught their skip and Vin never told anyone how he would put his loneliness to rest in those anonymous places. All the acts that he had written off as curiosity or dependent on a particular situation were given their proper weight as he found out exactly what a man could do with another man.
It was not something that he gave into every time. His lifelong habit of sitting back, not entirely out of reach, but still removed from the brunt of other people left him self-contained, ready to ward off a helping hand but not adverse to offering his own. It was a curious mix that drew shy women to smile at him with no idea of how to get closer and men who felt challenged to do just that.
His profession left him with a reason to always be on his way and to his relief he did not have to use it all that often. He learned their names and let the sound of their voices tell him more than their patter and then followed them home and into bed. He kissed their faces and slipped from the weight of their arms and more often than not they smiled at him, closed their eyes to sleep and let him find his own way out.
In a Denver motel he went through his voice mail. Bobby with some details for the next job. A hang up and then one from Nettie asking him to call, no matter the hour.
Nettie was already at an airport waiting to board when he called to find out that somewhere along the hour long drive from Albuquerque to Santa Fe after visiting her family Claire had gone missing. Chanu was frantic and the already contentious relationship he had with his in-laws had degraded even further into blame. Hours later when he had reached Santa Fe in the early morning the police had already found her body half way home on the side of I-25.
Chanu's grief took the form of anger which only brought into sharp relief more police attention. Vin used both reason and some shoving in an effort to calm Chanu down but the only thing that worked also devastated him further. The knowledge that his father-in-law had received the news that he would be a grandfather soon by strangling Claire and leaving her on the side of the road left him too stunned to act or speak or cry. An astute detective had gone to Reverend Mosely's home and asked him if he wanted to pray and he had and with it came his confession.
The loss of his young wife and the child she was carrying took with it Chanu's resiliency. Something essential had been chipped off leaving a ragged edge and no hope of restoration.
Another detective tried to relate the details as gently as possible to Chanu who stood up but had nowhere to go. Both Vin and Nettie stepped towards Chanu but Vin reached him first. He put his arm around his shoulders to sit him down again but Chanu turned and pressed his face against Vin's neck. The sound that came out of Chanu was not loud but could not be mistaken for anything else but a wail. It called to Vin's own grief and made him squeeze his eyes shut and pull Chanu into a rough hug. He held on and let the cry tear through him. The detective left his card with Nettie while Chanu whimpered breathlessly.
Vin stayed for the funeral and then left the next day. He doubted Chanu noticed.
Purgatorio
It stops raining just as Vin reaches the southern edge of Four Corners and enters the neighborhood of Purgatorio. Aptly named, it is neither heaven nor hell. Insulated by its own bad reputation from politicians and other animals who lack the ability to appreciate its citizens it has thrived long after others have given up on its gentrification.
He slows down and lets his Jeep idle heavily along as he looks under his broken visor at his new home. White sunlight shines through heavy cloud cover giving the old neighborhood a spectral glow. Adding to it are the ornate churches that seem to bookend every other corner. The adobe architecture in-between is sturdy and unpretentious, refusing to be perfect, as it is, after all, made out of mud with most of the buildings no more than two stories tall. So unlike downtown Four Corners with its glass front skyscrapers reflecting back at each other, See how pretty you are? There is a refreshing lack of chain stores with most of the businesses privately owned and indicative of a population practical in nature: small grocery stores, auto shops, shoe repair.
Built in a more optimistic time after a second world war the neat rows of houses are small bungalows or more adobe and vary widely in color and trim. An occasional oak or cottonwood stands sentry in a front yard with its roots reaching out under tall grass only to upend a section of sidewalk. Rose vines climb over trellises and chain link fence ready to bloom white, pink and vibrant red after a long winter. Women call to their children in English and scold in Spanish giving away that this a matriarchal society run by the edicts of busy, no nonsense mothers and the Fathers of their church.
Vin smiles his understanding. Of course Nettie came here. Purgatorio draws its own kind. Like the neighborhood she lives in Nettie is strong and unassuming, somewhat dangerous if approached badly and beautiful in her own way.
He follows her instructions and turns left on Amistosa, passing a fenced in school yard and a small grocery store and then comes to the end of the street where a taller building stands that was obviously once a hotel. Smooth brown sandstone give it a weathered, timeless look while scattered graffiti place it firmly in the here and now. As if it is an association requirement bars cover the windows and the wide double doors that open out on the corner.
Not for the first time he wonders how his relationship with Nettie has remained such a steady force in his life when every other aspect has shifted under his feet. There is no common blood to bind them or even a legal obligation from the state of Texas and yet when he needs it he has always had her number and address in his pocket and, of course, she has always been able to find him.
The itch that he has failed somehow by coming to Four Corners to live under her roof - however big - worries him. So strange to have fought on foreign soil and, until the end, never needed anything more than a hot shower to recover while home has proven to be so much more demanding.
He releases the seat belt and hears it clatter against the floorboard but doesn't move from there. Sighing, his sore ribs catch him after the long drive. The bruises on his face are only starting to fade with yellow ringing red and black marks. The thought of Nettie's clean, thorough appraisal of him makes him squirm.
I went to a bar and couldn't wait to leave. All the reasons that drove me there deserted me as soon as I ordered a beer. I finished half of it to get my money's worth and left. There were four of them. Their faces are a blur. All I could hear was grunts from the effort it took to knock me down. No one even bothered to call me a faggot.
A train whistle blows from somewhere far off. Vin raises his head and sees Nettie and Casey standing on the stoop waiting for him to notice them. Casey leaps on to the sidewalk and opens his door before he can reach for it. She takes in the stiff way he slips from the Jeep and her eyes try not to linger on his bruises. She raises up on her toes and then reins herself back from throwing her arms around him. She has grown in the years since he's seen her but her enthusiasm is still artless.
He puts his arms around her and squeezes her as best he can. "You sure have grown up," he says and then smiles when her giggle tickles his ear and proves him wrong.
As Casey goes to the back of his Jeep to unload his bag he straightens his spine to greet Nettie. There have only been a handful of times that he has seen her since Ko-Je died and the sight of her without him never fails to grab him around the throat. He puts his arms around her as if they are newly grieving and swallows his high emotions when he feels her hand pat him reassuringly on the shoulder.
Pulling back he takes in the sight of her. She has aged but the lines somehow suit her as if her body has finally caught up with her old soul. The added loss of her sister two years before shows on her, too, while the opportunity to watch over Casey in a new town seems to have given her a worthy challenge. Her once long hair is now cropped short and entirely silver but that suits her as well. A practical woman, her cotton clothes are worn in layers.
"I reckon time is telling on me," she says plainly but her eyes shine.
"You're beautiful," Vin tells her without hesitation and her small smile tells him that she hears the honesty in his voice.
A commotion sounds off where Casey is pulling Vin's duffle bag out of the Jeep. Slinging it over her shoulder it nearly dwarfs her and yet she asks with some concern, "Is this it? Is this all you have?"
"Well, yeah...," Vin says reaching for it.
Casey passes him. "I got it," she tells him somewhat peevishly as if his lack of worldly goods deserves a scolding. "Good thing we went shopping," she says over her shoulder to Nettie.
Vin turns his attention back to Nettie. "You went shopping? For what? I don't need anything, Nettie."
"C'mon, now," she says and hooks her arm through his. "No need for all this fuss."
A gentleman now, he escorts her up the steps where she unlocks the heavy doors and then hands the set of keys to Vin. The message is clear: You are not visiting. This is home.
If the outside has been marched into the present the inside is a stroll into the past. The large atrium lobby showcases tiers of cast iron balcony railings with ornate grillwork panels. To the left is a sitting area that actually looks to be used with a great fireplace that also looks to be in working order. To the right is a bank of mailboxes where Nettie and Casey introduce him to some of his new neighbors. Making their way further in Casey pushes a button that rings back at her and what appears to be a large birdcage turns out to be their elevator. Vin steps in cautiously after Nettie and Casey who closes the gate with a clang and then pushes the button for the fifth floor.
"You're going to love this," Casey reassures him with more of her enthusiasm but he is not reassured at all when it lurches upward with some amount of rattling. By the time it slows at the fourth floor and then rallies to the fifth Vin has dedicated himself to the stairs.
At the end of the hall Casey dumps his bag unceremoniously at his door and then drags it inside when he unlocks it. Taking his hand she hauls him through the large apartment. Her excited talk drifts over him as he takes in his new surroundings. The living room is nearly triangular with a built in seat bridging a set of three windows that look out west, north and east. To the left is a fireplace with what looks to be onyx framing it. The walls are freshly painted white while gold and muted green Persian rugs are scattered on the maple floorboards. A large TV seems to have been on their shopping list along with a used though nicely kept love seat and an overstuffed chair. The kitchen and bathroom give away that it was built before indoor plumbing was common with pipes running outside of the walls and into a claw footed tub and a kitchen sink that looks big enough to bathe in. The bedroom is much like his childhood one with a large comfortably made bed and a dresser and nothing else. He supposes he will be left again to fill in the corners.
When Vin comes back out into the living room Nettie is putting dry dishes from the drain into a cupboard. He leans against the wide bar separating them with Casey beside him. "Looks like I got the Presidential Suite?" which Casey smiles at and takes as a compliment.
Nettie keeps her back to him and busies herself with wiping down the stove. "In 1860 it was the Presidential Suite, now it's yours."
"I'm used to living in motels, Nettie. This is more than I need."
Nettie snaps the hand towel and drapes it through the refrigerator door handle and then turns to face him. "Well, you've got that half right. It's more than you're used to but it's not more than you need." She comes around the counter and with some effort he straightens up again to meet her. Taking Vin's face in her hands she says, "Let an old woman fuss over you a bit. You know it won't last long."
Vin smiles at the truth of her statement.
"I'm in apartment 101, Casey is in 103. You know supper is at 7. Come on down if you're not too tired from your trip." She pats his cheek.
"I'll be there."
"Chicken and dumplings."
"Sounds good."
For one long moment Nettie searches his face before she finds everything there that she needs to know. With another pat to his cheek, this one careful and tender, she lets him go.
Casey follows in Nettie's wake, smiling over her shoulder and closing the door soundly before Vin can remember to say thank you.
Alone, the apartment looms around him. He wonders how he will ever fill it - all this space that clamors for people and music and the kind of socializing he has only known at grade school Halloween parties. He has nothing to offer this place but his willingness to keep it clean until he can find something more appropriate. Or until he moves on.
He remembers his need to hear a familiar voice and blames it on the painkillers. They had dulled the pain for his ribs but had done nothing for the ache that had settled over his chest. Sitting on the edge of his bed in a nondescript motel in Phoenix he had dialed Nettie's number without thought. She was delighted to hear from him and kept asking if he was all right. The last time she asked he found it hard to breathe. She gave him a long moment and then said, "Come on home, you fool." And so he did, even though New Mexico had never been his home before.
Vin stands in his empty apartment and calls out, "Hellooo," and then waits patiently for his echo to call him back.
The Magnificent Seven
Later, when it was all over, Mary Travis would report her own story in The Clarion News. It would run on the front page, above the fold, for three days. Told in a crisp, professional manner, the bare facts nonetheless spoke of greed, malice and senseless loss. The details of Guy Royal's brutal, two-fisted collection of wealth would leave most readers caught between disbelief and cynicism.
The Royal R Ranch appeared to be one of the best and most profitable quarter horse ranches in the state. Guy Royal's reputation for hard bargains went hand in hand with the obvious quality of his stock. Not surprisingly, smaller ranchers complained over his monopoly until they were either bought out or left the area entirely.
This would have been business as usual if not for the untimely death of a single ranch hand named Jess Kincaid. His body along with the body of the horse that trampled him to death was reported to police before it could be covered up. It was initially treated as an accident until it was discovered that the horse was actually being used as a mule for the transportation of cocaine. When one of the packages broke the cocaine was released into the horses system making it highly agitated until even Jess Kincaid's calm, sure way with animals failed them both.
Even this was dismissed as the over ambitious plot of an itinerant worker to strike it big with one drug deal that went horribly wrong. Jess Kincaid's sister, Terry Greer voiced her strong disagreement until the police shut her out drawing the interest of an investigative reporter named Steven Travis.
Steven had already been investigating the ever growing franchise that Guy Royal was amassing under rumors of violence and extortion. Jess Kincaid's death along with the circumstances surrounding it only fed his desire to uncover the truth. Believing that he could only get to the root of the story from the inside, Steven passed himself off as yet another ranch hand at the Royal R. Twelve days later his phone calls to his wife Mary abruptly stopped. The next day she reported him missing. He would not be found for another fifteen months.
Vin's part in finding Steven would always strike him as negligible in that at the time he had no idea that he was helping out six other private investigators. On that early Spring morning his only concern had been for Nathan.
Something about Nathan called to him even before they got into the habit of running interference for each other. Both were willing to put their backs into their work without prompt or complaint which allowed them to get along with most of the other ranch hands. Still, there were the men who could not find the patience to explain a simple task to Nathan or who just didn't like the color of his skin or the length of Vin's hair.
Nathan had an uncanny sense of timing that meant that he would show up when Vin's detractors were about to start throwing punches. Unable to decide who riled them more they would leave Vin and Nathan with nothing more than an earful of redundant cussing.
For his part, Vin tried to keep Nathan busy and out of the line of fire. Curious where Vin was more observant, Nathan also had an uncanny ability to seek out more than his fair share of trouble. He seemed to carry an odd fascination for the short-tempered men who worked directly under Guy Royal. Vin cared little for them as they appeared to be nothing more than hired muscle.
Those very same men seemed to be in a rush on the morning that Vin's life would take yet another hard left leaving him to catch up at some later date. Not surprisingly, Nathan was not too far behind them.
"Aww hell," Vin grumbled to himself and then called out, "Nathan! Nathan, I need your help over here."
Across the expansive corral Nathan cupped his hand to his ear like a politician ducking a hard question and then waved to Vin. The savvy it took to be brushed off like that made Vin laugh even as he called out his name again and watched as Nathan ignored him and rounded the same corner as Royal's men.
Vin yanked on his work gloves as his amusement turned into a kind of angry resignation that Nathan might have to get his nose broken before he learned to keep away from such men. Feeling the weight of someone's eyes on him he looked up just in time to see another ranch hand, dressed all in black, jump off the corral railing and head slowly in the same direction as Nathan.
On the verge of praying for indifference Vin wrestled with himself for only a few moments before he went into the stable and pulled a rifle from a rack that was used to ward off large predators. Somehow, it seemed fitting.
Cautiously, Vin left the corral with the rifle held close to his leg so as not to draw any more attention to the goings on of a few ranch hands and followed in their footsteps. At the edge of a barn used for storage he heard a distinct click and brought his own rifle up, ready to fire as he swung around the corner. Calm as could be the man in black held a gun on Vin while Vin pointed his rifle at him. Adrenaline made Vin's skin sting but aside from that he felt no threat from the man in front of him despite the standoff they were engaged in. A muffled yell from inside pulled at their attention. Still looking at Vin the man tipped his head to the left with such a small gesture that Vin thought he might have missed it if he didn't have him in his site. Vin returned it with a small nod of his own and together they lowered their guns and agreed to save Nathan.
Each taking a barn door they swung them open flooding the inside with light. The men inside wheeled around and squinted against the sudden illumination. Drawing their guns they began to fire blindly as Nathan hung from a rope that just kept his feet from touching the ground. While Vin's new acquaintance fired back sending them hiding behind spindly furniture Vin fired at the rope over the beam and missed. Adjusting his aim without the site he fired again and hit the rope dropping Nathan to the ground. In amazement Vin watched as one man was left to do nothing but hold completely still as every direction he headed in was fired at. The two other men threw out their guns and were soon face down in the dirt.
The gunslinger cut the rope around Nathan's wrist and feet and then carefully removed the noose around his neck. Speaking softly he said, "Hey, Nate, you all right? Huh? Yeah, you're all right," to which Nathan coughed and gasped for air. Finally he looked at Vin who had his rifle trained on the men and settled the mystery. "Name's Chris."
Vin spared him a look. "Vin Tanner. New in town?"
The corner of Chris's mouth barely moved but it was still a smile.
Chris leaned Nathan against his chest and wrapped his arms loosely around his waist as Nathan caught his breath. "The boys are on the way," he said reassuringly and it seemed to work. Nathan nodded and placed his hand over Chris's and entwined their fingers into a neat fist.
Vin looked at them again and saw the small earpiece that Chris was wearing. It was only then that he began to realize that he was in the middle of something bigger than even the attempted murder of Nathan.
.....
The ranch took on a carnival-like atmosphere where police car lights threw red and blue up against stunned faces. The very beginning of a long inventory of possessions started with some of the larger pieces and worked down to the smaller more precious ones.
Vin was taken aside by several different officers who asked the same questions over and over again as was Chris and Nathan. Each time they returned to each others company and each time there was one more added to the fold.
First Buck, rangy and energetic and seemingly unable to tell if Nathan and Chris were all right until he hugged them.
Chris stepped back and said, "Easy, big fella. Folks will talk," causing Buck to smile down on him.
Buck watched Vin sidle up just behind Chris and asked Chris, "He with us?" Chris gave him one of his spare nods and yet it seemed to satisfy him.
Josiah showed up with JD which only made the contrast in their size and temperaments more obvious with Josiah calm and imposing at the same time and JD small and eager to hear all of the details of what had happened. By the time Ezra arrived they were in a loose dog pile that Vin had seen men fall into before when he was in the Army. Having noticed rope fibers embedded in Nathan's skin Ezra, his southern accent in full bloom, called over an EMT as if he was asking for service from a recalcitrant waiter.
"May I bother you to look at this good man while you are here? Thank you."
At one point Nathan reached over and patted Vin's knee with some force and then grabbed his wrist and shook it with a hoarse laugh. Vin looked at him and saw that he was tired but clear-eyed with none of the childlike doubt of before. Vin looked at Chris and asked, "He ain't slow, is he?" which caused Chris to duck his head to hide a more obvious smile before he replied, "No, he ain't."
While Mary Travis's article went to great lengths to credit the six private investigators and one hired hand for bringing justice to light it was a swarm of police officers, detectives and crime scene investigators who took over. Warrants were served on what had been treated as a cold case for the last six months. Royal's men began to make deals and talk before they were even removed from the property. The front door to Royal's house was opened to reveal more of his collection of furniture, jewelry, vases and several items that would turn out to have only sentimental value. In the corner of one room a cockatiel said "hello" to each and every person who passed it. In a ceramic bowl of no value was a tangle of watches, bracelets and rings. One ring, made of platinum, held an inscription that read, "Forever, Love Mary".
Late into the night a shallow grave was discovered and a week later the remains of Steven Travis were finally laid to rest by those that survived him: his father, retired Judge Orin Travis, his young son Billy and his wife, Mary. Her husband's wedding ring would not be returned to her until after the long trial.
For Mary, the men who were hired by her father-in-law to solve the horrible mystery of what had happened to Steven would never be given their proper due and yet, in her esteem they would always be magnificent.
Before he even said yes to joining Travis Investigations Vin was already one of seven.
A Map of Four Corners
Vin admires how Four Corners refuses to be entirely paved over. Its old west past shows itself daily. The wind, coming in from the desert blows down through the canyon walls of sky scrapers as red tailed hawks perch on street lamps. At night coyotes run across six lanes of deserted intersection to eat out of the dumpsters of high end restaurants.
It is indomitable, in part because of its location, on the edge of the desert, not far from the mountains, but also because of the citizens that it claims. Wealthy men wear overalls with fat money clips tucked into the bib while matrons join planning commissions and speak of xeriscape when choosing the landscaping for the newest business center or park.
The curious mix of ubiquitous storefronts and understated individualism snare people like Vin who were otherwise passing through. There is also, what is for him, a large number of people who seem to have conspired to make him feel at home.
It starts with Nettie who takes it upon herself to hook her arm through his and have him escort her through Purgatorio on errands she can easily handle herself. Her true purpose seems to be to introduce Vin to shop owners, neighbors, priests, beat cops, corner eccentrics all the way down to which dogs jump the fence and where to return them.
Not to be left out or underestimated, Casey takes him up the gentle rise of steps to the Natural History museum and also to a smaller one closer to home that showcases the Old West. He catches her smiling at him as he loses himself in a series of photographs of 1870's downtown Four Corners. Baths for 5 cents Casey points out. More saloons than churches Vin counters. And there, Watson's Hardware which still operates although more as a tourist attraction in Old Town Four Corners.
On another day they head halfway down the alphabet of streets to yet another building almost indistinguishable from the rest. The lobby is small and houses three necessities to Travis Investigations: a twenty-four hour diner that serves breakfast at any hour, a travel agency for chasing down leads and skips and a Starbucks.
Vin waits for Casey to order a black coffee for him and a tongue twisting concoction over ice for herself before heading up to the eleventh floor. On a Saturday the building is nearly deserted.
It's not the first time that Casey has been to the office where Vin works but each time he uses his key card to open the glass door she barrels in as if it is a newly discovered amusement park. He follows her past the empty reception counter where Gloria Potter handles calls, arranges flights and a myriad of other tasks that keep the investigators productive. Beyond her workspace is a set of built in desks, facing outward in a circle. Each desk has its own computer although JD's has more peripherals and consequently takes up more space. In the middle of this is a conference table that's rarely used as they have become accustomed to wheeling their chairs around and calling out to each other. A white board with an empty red timeline, on the other hand, is often used.
After years of working on his own with nothing more than a warrant and a cell phone the hypermodern office with its cherry wood surfaces seems an improbable place for Vin to end up. And yet a year has passed and every time he pursues a skip he impatiently returns and inevitably there is someone waiting for him.
"Chris!" Casey squeals, startling both Chris and Vin.
Chris pushes away from his desk and tweaks Casey's cheek even after she punches him in the arm.
"Didn't mean to scare you," she says but her smile makes him wonder.
"That's what I get for daydreaming," Chris smiles back at her.
Casey nods. "What do you daydream about?"
"Casey," Vin scolds, even though Chris seems to have lost none of his humor.
"I'll tell you sometime," Chris says with a nudge leaving Casey to smile around her straw.
"You just get in?" Chris asks Vin pointing at his coffee.
Vin hands it over letting Chris take a healthy sip. "Last night. Just wanted to put some things down while I was in the area."
"So you caught Wilson?"
"Yeah. Guess where I found him."
"At his momma's," Chris says with a laugh and a little snort that never fails to amuse Vin.
"Yep," Vin laughs, taking his coffee back from Chris.
"Here," Casey offers hers to Chris and probably startled again he takes a sip. "You look good in black."
Chris swallows audibly. "Thank you."
"Hmm-hmm," she says and then goes off to leave a message for JD on his computer despite the fact that she will see him later in the evening.
Vin barely suppresses a smile and then sets his coffee down where Chris can reach it and opens a file on his computer.
Chris sits down at his own desk and starts to gather up papers into a folder.
"Got plans tonight?" Vin asks as he types.
"Ahh, Mary's getting an award for that piece she did on the homeless. Asked me to escort her."
Vin remembers when he first met her and how he had thought that Buck was right: she was too pretty for print. A good portion of Vin's good mood fades. "Tell her I said congratulations. Good piece."
"Will do." For a long moment there is nothing but the sound of typing and paper shuffling. "Come by tomorrow. That horse of yours missed you. Got bored and started chewing on the new railing."
"I'll see what I can do to distract him for a while," Vin rallies back and then quickly adds, "Not too early."
"Anytime," Chris says quietly, his own good mood dampened.
Unsure if he has overstepped or missed out Vin concentrates on finishing the report. Reaching into his pocket for a scrap of paper that has an address on it his fingers brush against a small object wrapped in plain tissue paper. Pulling it out he hands it over to Chris. "Oh. Here," Vin tells him somewhat gruffly, setting it by the coffee.
Chris smiles and unwraps it even though he knows what it is. Holding up a dark blue shot glass he reads, "Delaware. The First State," and then adds it to the growing collection of shot glasses on his desk. "Thanks, Vin," he says reaching over to tug on Vin's long hair.
Casey rejoins them but unlike Chris she swats Vin when he pleases her. His shoulder stings with her affection. It's a sensation that mixes wildly with amusement, wonder, satisfaction and always a thread of unease.
When he looks up again Chris is almost smiling.
One More Key
Vin unsnaps the canvas of his Jeep and rolls it back. This early in May it's still cool as clouds pass lazily over the sun but it is also green from the thaw. Even in downtown the air smells like cut grass and Vin would bottle it if he could. He buttons his jacket and pulls on a pair of gloves and the slouch hat that use to belong to Ko-Je. Climbing in he takes a moment to find the seat belt latch on the floorboard and secures it across his chest and waist.
Chris pulls up beside him and the passenger side window whirrs down. Chris tries to keep a straight face as he peers out the window. Vin shakes his head, already knowing what's coming.
"Need a tow?"
In answer, Vin turns over the perfectly tuned engine and with a squeal of tires pulls away from Chris. Glancing in the rearview mirror he sees Chris's wide smile. Coming to a full stop at the edge of the parking lot they both enter into the Friday night commute home.
At each red light Vin tosses the stick shift around in the palm of his hand. He gets no further than second gear before the block ends at another red light. Slowly, the office buildings give way to gas stations and fast food drivethru's until the freeway onramp is just ahead. The traffic moves only somewhat faster, occasionally coming to a full stop for no reason that Vin can see. He passes his own exit having already told Nettie that he would be at Chris's ranch over the weekend. It's not an uncommon occurrence but it is, as always, one that Vin tempers in an effort not to wear out his welcome.
Further on the traffic thins out considerably as Vin pulls into the right lane to exit onto a two lane highway. Chris is just behind him and it hits him again how he is nearly racing the man to his own home. Still, the open road makes it impossible to do anything but shift and hit the gas. He feels the wind push against his hat and shoulders and lets the Jeeps excellent suspension take on the dips and curves. Red and gold striations cut through the low lying hills accented by scrub brush and tall grass. He passes a large nursery that grows the same wild flowers in neat rows that reach out from under the paved road. Horses graze on one side while cattle settle under the shade of a mighty oak on the other. Property lines grow harder to distinguish until Vin comes to an unmarked entrance.
Driving over a rise that feels like a small child's carnival ride Vin slows the Jeep down as gravel pings against metal. The driveway winds through a thicket of oak trees as if their haphazard positions determined the way. The old branches form a canopy that act as a prelude, almost a drum roll to the open space just ahead.
The first time Vin saw the ranch it gave him insight into Chris. It was not so much damaged as not entirely lived in. The grounds were neatly kept but looked unused. The large corral also looked ready for use but stood empty.
On that day, not long after they had met, Vin drove behind Chris until they reached a carefully rendered southwestern home.
Adobe walled courtyards were not uncommon in the area but still the only hints of what lie beyond those simple walls was a bench seat painted bright and green as a lizard along with the pale pink blossoms of a climbing rose that made it necessary for them to duck as they passed through the heavy wooden door the color of a deep lake. Inside the gravel ended to be taken up by weathered flagstone. To the right Buck sat in another wooden bench, a lighter shade of blue than the door, his long legs stretched out beside a small pool that held a glazed blue urn that at one time overflowed with water.
As Vin looked around, taking In the overgrown plants and their simple beauty Chris told Buck, "You've got a key. Could have let yourself in."
Impossibly, Buck stretched out more, his arms in the air before he stood and hooked a thumb at the mosaic of two bouquets of flowers on the wall behind the dry pool. "Just thinking about the gal who made that. Sarah's friend, Suha," Buck remembered fondly, looking at it again. Just above it a built in planter held ivy that grew in every direction.
Buck flipped open his cell phone and began scrolling through the numbers. As he passed Chris he nearly sang out "Suhaaa" and swatted Chris on the butt hard enough to lift Chris's heels off the ground.
Indulgent, Chris smiled at Vin and threw his hand in the air, "Have a look around if you want."
Not normally so curious Vin walked over to the other side of the courtyard. In the corner an empty terra-cotta chimenea looked like it could still take the chill out of the night. On either side were windows with rough hewn wood slats. He turned around and followed Chris towards the modest sized house that seemed to have been set in the middle of the courtyard, the thick low walls offering shade and shelter from the wind and other elements that could kick up at a moments notice.
Chris opened the door for Vin leaving Buck to murmur in his phone by the blue door. Inside, the house seemed larger with wide windows and French doors covered in fine ornamental copper grillwork that was reminiscent of Purgatorio's more secure homes. A fireplace separated the living room from the dining area and open kitchen. Folded blankets at the end of a large sofa spoke of a man who had slept there for a different kind of comfort. A long hallway led to the bedrooms and displayed several candid photographs of Chris and his son Adam, most black and white and taken by Sarah and a handful of the three of them together smiling and laughing at a camera with a timer. Under Vin's observant eye they looked like they had been taken down at one time and then put back up, at some later date, in different places. Vin was able to imagine the hallway turning into a gauntlet of never again memories for Chris that ended in an empty bed.
Chris opened his refrigerator. "I've got beer," he offered and he did, but not much else.
Vin accepted one and then wandered out into the back courtyard. The left side was dominated by a fireplace with bougainvillea as red as a stop light flanking it. To the right a built in grill waited patiently for use. A cottonwood, growing outside the courtyard wall provided shade over a large round table. Further out the walls lowered until they staggered into the ground. Vin followed the blue stones embedded in the flagstone, down three steps to a small dry pool and Jacuzzi that looked out over another gathering of oak trees.
It was easily the most beautiful home Vin had ever seen even with its empty pools and rooms, blending in with its environment instead of overtaking it. "Sure is a purty spot, Chris," Vin said, his accent getting the best of him.
Chris nodded and took a moment before he spoke. "Sarah was an architect. This is all her work."
Vin nodded approvingly.
"She was born in St. Louis and raised all over the world. Army brat. She came to Four Corners to go to school and stayed. Said she loved how the architecture came right out of the ground. We bought this land, put everything we had in to it. When Adam was born she left her career but it was a part of her so this place got all her attention."
Vin kept quiet hoping he would go on.
"She learned about the native plants and taught me and Adam their names." Chris pointed to a tall spindly plant with orange offshoots. "Octoillo. Adam said it looked like fireworks."
"It does," Vin agreed and shared a smile with Chris.
Chris's smile faded. "Me and Buck were going down to Mexico to pick up a cop killer who'd been extradited. The day after we left Sarah was taking Adam to a movie. Cletus Fowler was in the back of her car. He held a gun on her and had her drive down the highway to a side road. He executed them with a Colt 1911 – just like the one I used. I don't know if it was a coincidence or…I don't know. We caught him and he told us that he had been hired by someone but he hung himself in jail before we could find out who. Sarah and Adam were a hundred feet from the road. Cars were passing them by. When I couldn't reach her we rushed back but…"
Vin remembers wanting to push through his usual reserve and say something, the right thing or some gesture but all he did was stand by Chris and keep his silence until Buck called out from the back door asking if they had taken the last beer.
In the year following the neglected ranch had been overrun with Buck who could never leave well enough alone and JD who Vin suspected knew better than to crowd Chris but pretended not to. Josiah showed up to help change a broken hinge on a door that looked like it had been kicked in and stayed long enough for Chris to confess to a fit of temper and a mutual fondness for Playstation. When the weather permitted Nathan helped Chris clean out the small pool while Ezra used the Jacuzzi for medicinal purposes. And finally Vin who bought an unruly black gelding and asked to keep it at Chris's ranch. And while the horse is well cared for along with the other horses the team has bought it is Chris who has become more spirited.
Vin parks in the circular driveway. Chris hops down from his truck and tosses his keys to Vin even though Vin has his own set. It has been a long week. Vin puts the key in the door and lets them in.
The blue urn in the front courtyard overflowed again.
Human Interest
On the third anniversary of Sarah and Adam Larabee's untimely deaths Mary Travis publishes what is meant to be a tribute to one mans quest for justice and the family he lost. It details the otherwise routine day of this small family from a hurried breakfast of toaster waffles to Chris Larabee nearly missing a flight to Mexico to a quick and laughing airport goodbye. That unremarkable goodbye would be their last.
While proficiently written Mary's article is delegated to the back pages of The Clarion News that often contain the most activity. Corrections, apologies and retractions tell the real stories while the obituaries confirm them. Headlines read, Dog Saves Boy, Chef Burns More Than Toast In Hotel Fire and Local Hero Still Searches for Killers of Wife and Son.
Chris folds the paper and leaves work without a word. The saccharine, sometimes strange pages of Human Interest have left him thirsty.