On the drive down the hill to Riata, Perry kept quiet. What could he say? Even though pain radiated from Ike in suffocating waves, Perry knew he could not assuage it. He might wish he could, but wishing wasn’t doing. He sensed how private his temporary guest was, how accustomed Ike had become to keeping everything locked within. You didn’t bawl your eyes out in the pen. You tried not to flinch or show any sign of weakness, no matter what happened. Even the smallest crack in a person’s armor became an invitation to cruel exploitation. Ike had probably learned that the hard way, although Perry suspected he’d been self-contained since childhood.
Instead of going home, he swung in to park at Dot’s. He really didn’t feel like cooking, and anyway, Dot needed the support of local customers to keep going. Ike glanced sidelong at him, but then turned to get out. The other man’s face resembled a graven mask of mahogany, devoid of expression or animation.
Marco Mendez looked up from a seat near the kitchen door as they entered. “Hope you ain’t in a hurry. I’m a one-man band right now, cook, waiter, and dishwasher. Dot’s gotta sleep some time. What ‘cha want, Perry?”
Marco, a wounded vet who’d come home to little more than Ike found, struggled to get by. This part-time job at Dot’s let him eat and gave him a reason to get up every day. Dot was like that; she took in strays.
“Coffee to start. And I guess a couple of burgers. Is that okay with you, Ike?”
“Sure.” Ike delivered the one-word response in a voice with no inflection, flat as an alkali salt pan and as dry. After he sat across from Perry, he studied his clasped hands, resting on the table. Their slight tremor was the only outward sign of his distress. Still, Perry could almost hear the other man’s thoughts, feel his internal struggle as he tried to pull frayed ends of hope and confidence together again.
Something about the strange man stirred Perry deep inside. There was so much strength there, character and goodness. Maybe most would not see it, but he did. Those traits drew him like a magnet pulled at a rusty nail.
God, if only I could do something, say something. He’d always been sensitive to other folks’ anguish. At first, he’d thought maybe he could help in some way by being a cop. It didn’t seem to work like that, though. His duties just exposed him to more misery.
Marco wasn’t a talker. Without a word more, he brought them two big mugs of steaming coffee and, a few minutes later, a pair of plates, each holding a green chile cheeseburger and a big stack of fries. After that, he limped back to his seat and the half-empty glass of soda he’d clearly nursed for some time. He showed no curiosity at all about Perry’s companion.
Finally, Ike looked up to meet Perry’s gaze across the table. “Well, reckon that’s done. I know for sure I won’t be goin’ back.” He drew in a long breath and let it out in a slow, subvocal whistle. “If a guy without a lot of skills needed a job, where would you say he should look?”
Perry rubbed his jaw, feeling the stubble along the bone, a reminder he had not shaved when he got up. “It’s kinda like you can’t get there from here, but might be a thing or two.” He paused and then went on. “I expect anybody can sweep and mop, empty the trash. We could use a janitor over at the county offices. Although Sheriff Ben gets prisoners to do it at times, a deputy has to watch them. Be easier if we just hired somebody.”
Before Ike could answer, Marco spoke, making both Perry and Ike jump. “If a person can cook, Dot could use them here. Angie quit yesterday. She’s going down to Las Cruces to live with her boyfriend. Dot can’t pay too much but she’s fair and you can eat for free. That’s what I do.”
“Good idea,” Perry said, looking across at Marco, half-surprised he’d spoken. “Thanks, Marco.” He turned back to Ike. “Well, that’s two places to start. Probably more jobs in the bigger towns, like Silver City or Las Cruces, but they’re more likely to want references and background checks, shit like that. Some might hire you anyway, while most…” He let the sentence trail off unfinished. Ike didn’t need it spelled out.
Ike seemed to consider the suggestions in a moment’s silence before he responded. “Sheriff in today?”
“Oh, yeah. He’s in the office every weekday and often on Saturday, unless he’s out in the field filling in so a deputy can have a day off. Sheriff Ben isn’t hard to talk to. I can introduce you if you want me to.”
Ike shook his head. “No, you don’t need to sponsor me. Maybe better for you if you don’t. I’ll tell him the truth, and he can make his own decision.”
After they finished the meal, Perry grabbed the ticket. As he headed toward the cash register up front, he saw Ike pull two crumpled dollar bills out of his pocket and lay them on the table. He’d bet that was almost the last money the other man had, if not the last. Ike had a lot of pride. Maybe that was a good thing…you could lean on that when there wasn’t much else.
* * * *
Ike followed Perry out of the café. He stopped short of climbing back into the truck.
“Think I’ll look around town a little while if it’s all the same to you. Need to stretch my legs and settle that great burger. I sure missed green chile while I was locked up.”
Perry grinned. “You’re a free man now, Ike, and you don’t have to answer to me. Want me to let your dog out into the backyard when I get home? There’s a good fence. He can’t get out unless he’s a real Houdini.”
“That’d be good. Little Red seems to be pretty good about not messing where he shouldn’t, but a pup can only hold it so long. I’ll be back before dark.” He turned and started off before he heard Perry fire up the truck. This time, the deputy had left his dog in the vehicle when they went into the restaurant. Ike noticed she reclaimed her seat in the front as soon as he got out. Still, she’d dealt pretty well with being bumped. He could see why Perry seemed so taken with her.
Starting off down the street, which was also one of the two highways that crossed south of town, he found himself wanting to whistle despite the shocks he’d experienced today. Freedom. It felt so damn good. He’d buried the pain of losing all chance of going home into a deep, sealed place. He wasn’t going to dwell on what could never be. Life happened.
At the end of the block, he stopped to scan both ways. Yep, that looked like the county building down the cross street to the left. He turned that way before he gave himself time to postpone it. He didn’t let his pace slow as he approached his destination, either.
The complex was a kind of hodge-podge, probably starting out as a traditional adobe, but it had gained a cement block wing and then a steel building tacked on to the other side. He went into the lobby and paused to read the signs and arrows directing visitors to different offices. The sheriff’s was one of the closest. The door stood ajar. When he paused there, he saw a woman seated at a desk. She looked Latina, and there was something slightly familiar about her face.
Hearing his footsteps, she looked up. “How can I help you today?”
“I—er, is the sheriff in? I’d like to speak to him if I can. If not, maybe I can make an appointment.”
The woman smiled. “He’s here, and whenever he’s in, there’s no such thing as needing an appointment. Can I tell him who wants to see him? Maybe what it’s about?”
“I’m Isaiah Hernandez. Someone told me there might be a job for a janitor here.”
She blinked, then resumed the smile. “Okay, come on. I’ll introduce you.”
Ben Harper was a husky man with a jowly face. For an instant, Ike flashed back to the sheriff down in Texas, the one who’d arrested him for defending himself and probably for looking like he might be African-American. A knot of terror seized his gut. He stopped dead for a long instant.
No, this isn’t that, isn’t there. It’ll be okay. Perry said he was a decent man.
When he snapped out of the stasis, he realized the secretary or whatever she was had introduced him. Harper stood and came around the desk, holding out a hand. “Glad to meet you, Mr. Hernandez. You’re new in town, or I’d know your face.”
Ike accepted the handshake, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. “New now, but I grew up in Esperanza half a lifetime ago. I know that’s all gone, but this area still kind of feels like home. I was hoping I might find work and stay awhile.”
The sheriff searched Ike’s face with a keen, assessing look. Finally, he gave a small nod as if he’d answered his own question. “I’m afraid I don’t have any vacancies, and none of the deputies are looking to retire soon. Anything else would have to go to the county board for approval.”
“I heard y’all might need a janitor, that you often use prisoners but it takes a deputy off patrol to guard them. I could start part time or even volunteer until you see if my work’s acceptable.”
The sheriff pondered a few seconds. “You know, I’ve got some discretionary funds, not much, but enough to cover minimum wage about twenty hours a week for a bit. We could use some serious cleaning around here. I won’t ask the deputies to do it, and you’re right. Prisoners have to be supervised.”
“I need to tell you something first, sir. I just got out of prison down in Texas. I was in for assault and served my time. Got out a little early for good behavior. It that poses a problem, I’ll understand.”
The other man shrugged. “Keep your nose clean, and I won’t have one. I get a strong feeling you aren’t anxious to see the inside of a cell again, at least with the door locked. If you were, you wouldn’t be looking for work. I’d say you haven’t been out long.”
Ike nodded. “Less than a month. I kinda ended up here by accident, maybe luck. One of your deputies found me out on the highway during that storm last night.”
Harper chuckled. “That’d be Perry. He’s got a soft spot for strays, like that mixed-up dog he has. I won’t hold it against him. And I won’t hold your past against you so long as you demonstrate my faith isn’t misplaced. Report to me at eight tomorrow, and I’ll put you to work.”
He again looked Ike over. “Need some clothes? Those look like prime release stuff, not the best or sturdiest. If you need enough for a pair of Levi’s and a shirt and jacket, I can advance a little of your wages.”
Ike shook his head. “Thanks, but this’ll do me until I get paid properly. No ladies I want to impress or anything.”
Still chuckling, Harper shook Ike’s hand once more and then went back around his desk. He stopped short of resuming his seat. “Some of the deputies may look askance at you, but they’ll be all right once they see you’re staying clean. Just don’t get your feathers ruffled.”
“I won’t, sir. I understand why they might feel that way.”
With a lighter heart and a jauntier step, not forced this time, Ike left the courthouse. He had one more stop to make before he went home. Whoa, home? When had he started to think of Perry Parker’s rustic little house as home? Well, it was the closest thing to one that he had for now. Once he had a job or maybe even two, he might be able to afford a place of his own, but for now he was grateful for the shelter and a restful bed. Companionship of a sort, too, to be honest. There was something very comfortable and yet subtly exciting about the lanky deputy.
Ike’s next stop would be at Dot’s Diner. He could cook, all right. Many hours in the prison kitchen had seen to that. He could also wash dishes and handle any other task the café might provide. Dot seemed to accept him last night. Maybe she would be willing to hire him, too, if she was back from the rest Marco had mentioned by now. If not, he’d find out when he could speak to her.
* * * *
When Ike got back to Perry’s, dusk was falling. He found Perry sitting at the table in the kitchen, both hands wrapped around a big mug. The deputy looked up when Ike walked in.
As if for the first time, Ike looked the other man over. Perry was a bit above average height and far from husky but gave an impression of solidity. His dark brown hair held reddish highlights and his eyes—they were unique, at least unusual. Hazel, but they never seemed quite the same twice. Damn, but this deputy is one striking looking man…
“Did you have a good walk around town?”
Ike couldn’t quite tell whether the other man was upset, concerned, or just making conversation. Here in the outside world, the manners and customs of prison no longer prevailed. In eight years, he’d learned to read his fellow inmates pretty well. Perry Parker was a cat of another stripe.
Still, Ike couldn’t help grinning. “You could say so. I’ll be starting two part-time jobs tomorrow, swamping out the jail and sheriff’s office and filling in at Dot’s Diner. Maybe in a couple weeks, I can start looking for my own place and get out of your hair.”
For an instant, he looked straight at Perry, seeing a strange mixture of emotions in the other man’s eyes. Something like electricity crackled through the air between them. When the connection became too intense, he stooped to scoop Rojo into his arms. The dog had been trying to get his attention ever since he came in anyway. He spent a few minutes playing with the pup, time enough for the moments of sizzling tension to subside.
By the time he looked at Perry again, the other man’s face had gone bland and blank. He lifted the mug and took a swig, made a face and spat it back. “Damn coffee went cold. I must’ve sat here longer than I realized. Well, that’s okay. I don’t suppose you’re hungry?”
With a shrug, Ike shook his head. “Not really. I’m not used to eating a lot.”
Perry arched one eyebrow. “Yeah, I can see that. You’re skinny as a hillbilly’s fence rail. Didn’t they feed you down there at the big house?”
“Not much. I worked in the kitchen and could’ve had anything I needed. Just never was too hungry. Everything tastes like shit when you aren’t free.”
Perry’s gaze snapped back to his. “I hope you intend to stay free now that you’ve gotten out.”
“That’s the plan. Getting a job is the first step. I’ll do my damn best to keep out of any kind of trouble at all. Don’t want to bring anything bad down on you, helping me like you have, and I sure don’t want to see the inside of any more bars.”