Page 30 of Longest Ride

“Sorry for your loss, ma’am,” said Virgil.

I handed Paula one of our sheriff’s office cards. “Call the office if you have questions, ma’am.”

We showed ourselves out and piled into the Jeep. I started the engine and cranked up the heater. “What do you think of her, Virge? As a suspect, I mean.”

“I knew what you meant.” Virge made a face at me. “There was something about her that wasn’t right. I got the feeling she knew they were all dead.”

“Oh, yeah? I was watching for that but didn’t see it in her eyes.”

“She was definitely covering her ass by going heavy on the drug deal gone wrong and trying to steer us in that direction. She knew they were dead.”

“No evidence of drugs being the cause,” I said. “No cash or wads of drugs in the trailer.”

“Huh,” said Virge. “I’ve gotta think hard on this.”

“Yeah, me too. Let’s go meet Dad at the Run. I hope he ain’t miles ahead of us.”

“Could be, Harlan. You know how he gets. He’s pretty messed up over Tammy.”

Dry Run Roadhouse. Coyote Creek. Montana.

Travis was slouched down in a back booth, an empty pitcher and half a bottle of tequila on the table in front of him.

“There he is and he’s a fuckin mess,” said Virge.

“Yep. He ain’t good when he’s into the tequila. We ain’t staying, Virge. We’ll get Dad out of here and put him in his own truck. You drive his truck home and I’ll follow you.”

“Yeah. We’ve got chores ahead of us and I’m already half fuckin dead.”

Driving north to the ranch, Travis did a lot of drunken rambling. He talked about the Black Breed and things he needed to do to certain people in Houston… when he was Dale Burden.

Virgil listened closely and tried his best to remember all of it. “Damn it. I need to write this shit down.”

Chapter Seven

Wednesday, September 25th.

Wild Stallion Ranch.

Me and Virge finished up the morning chores and I locked the barn doors. The horses nickered when we left them inside because they were used to going to the corral in the daytime, but it was winter. The snow was too fuckin deep, and it was too cold for them to stay outside all day while we were at work.

Virge heard it first. “Growling,” he hollered and ran for the back door of the house. Running close behind him, I turned my head to look and there she was—Mama Grizzly—coming around the woodpile.

I ran in behind Virge and locked the back door. “Are the dogs in here?” I hollered.

“I’ve got them,” said Virge. “Snarling to get out the front door.”

“She’s a big one, Dad,” I said. “Shouldn’t she be hibernating by now?”

“The snow came too early and fucked up their schedule,” said Travis. He kept his head down and I figured he had a doozer of a headache. Tequila always did that for him. He should stick to beer, but I wasn’t the one telling him that.

I took a mug out of the cupboard, filled it with coffee and sat down at the table. “Hear anything from Annie this morning?”

“Nothing yet. Might not hear from her.” Travis stood up and walked to the stove. Turned the burner on under the frying pan and stared at it.

“Why not?”

“She ain’t happy with me right now.”

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