6

Jim parked the bland Japanese rental among jacked up pickups and horse trailers the next afternoon. He’d thought it was hot in Vegas, but the oppressive Texas heat and humidity had him sweating before he made it five feet from the car and its robust air conditioner.

He’d parked behind the arena area on purpose, guessing that would be where the riders and pros hung out. And as he suspected, there were several guys working horses and moving livestock toward the action.

He looked like a cop in this environment even with his jeans and hiking boots on. Three men stopped what they were doing to watch him approach.

He pulled out his ID. “Name’s Bean. I’m looking for Hal Winters.”

As expected. No answer. Three blank stares from three thin men in tight jeans and boots. They all had the same look. Pressed bright shirts with patches all over them, big buckles, and dusty well-worn boots. These guys were riders and had been around a while to pick up so much sponsorship.

“I’m hoping he can help me find a missing guy. He’s not in any trouble.”

The information brought little change of expression. Jim stood his ground and stared at them. The rather short one on the left finally looked down. He was the one who’d spill.

Jim addressed him. “Really, man.” He tried to look like he was harmless. “I’m looking for Daniel Hodge. His sister hired me to find him. Their mother’s sick. Help a guy out, would ya?”

Shorty nodded and tipped his hat back a bit. “I remember Dan. Haven’t seen him in a few years. But you’re on target with Hal. If anyone knows, he will.”

“And he’s here?” Jim was hopeful. Long trip if he wasn’t. The circuit standings online had ended with last season. No way to know if Hal was riding the same one this year.

One of the quiet men spit. It landed close to Jim’s feet but if it was directed at him, he’d have known. Jim ignored it.

Shorty pointed to a building off to the left of the covered arena. “Having a Coke in the AC would be my guess. Broncs don’t go off till later.”

“Thanks.” AC sounded good to Jim.

Inside the cafe Jim didn’t garner as much attention. There were all kinds of people there to watch the rodeo with families, people working the snack bar, even a couple cops in the corner. The seating area sported three long rows of white plastic folding tables. It would maybe hold a hundred people. There were only about thirty scattered around now. No tablecloths. No pretense. The food smelled like a summer baseball park at dinnertime. A huge whiteboard displayed the handwritten menu. Empty bottles displayed the choice of beer.

A couple dozen cowboy hats dotted the room. Jim scanned the faces of those turned in his direction. A cute blonde was smiling up at him as she spoke to her friends. Working. He moved on. A behemoth of a man in a pressed white shirt stood from the table closest to Jim and gathered a plate of fried chicken remains. He nodded. Jim took that as an invitation.

“Hal?”

The man hesitated.

“He’s not in trouble. I owe him money.” There’s a lie that almost always works.

After another once-over the guy evidently agreed that Jim wasn’t there for trouble. He pointed to the far corner of the room. No subtlety. Good thing Jim didn’t need to sneak up. “Black hat talking with that lady in the green shirt.”

Not to mention the guy had a mustache the size of Dallas. “Thanks.”

Jim walked straight toward Hal. No surprise to Hal since he’d seen the big fucker pointing his way. Jim still had his ID in his hand. He flipped it open to Hal. The blond girl looked a little frightened. “I’m a PI from Vegas. Cynthia Hodge asked me to help her find her brother, Dan Hodge.”

Jim gave the guy a quick minute to think on that. Wanted him to relax. Understand Jim was not there to find him for any troublesome reason.

After about four seconds he said, “I haven’t seen Dan in a few years.”

“Last time he beat your ass in the regionals.” The blonde laughed. Her face was over-tanned from the Texas sun and over-coated in Maybelline. Lips the color of a fire engine. Eyes painted up cornflower blue. A look Jim was used to on the showgirls. Intentionally overdone for the lights and the stage.

Hal smiled. It made it to his eyes. Genuine. “It was.”

“You two used to pass that title back and forth from what I could see online.” Jim slid into a folding chair uninvited. The blonde turned more his way.

“He was a great rider,” Hal said.

“Was?”

“Up and disappeared one weekend.” Hal’s accent was thick and rolling. He used his index finger and thumb to smooth his handlebar mustache. “Last day of regionals, 2012. His entry fees were paid. He was sitting in first place after the first go round. Never missed a ride before that. Never seen him since.”

“Unusual for a guy to disappear in the middle of a competition?”

The blonde tapped an unlit cigarette on the table to pack the tobacco. “I’ve never heard of anyone else running out like that. I always thought he had to be dead to miss out on the buckle.” Jim let his eyebrows rise as she elaborated. “I mean, he was in the money all the time. Had a decent truck but kind of lived out of it. We’re on the road a lot, but most of us have a home base. Dan didn’t.”

“You think he could have gotten mixed up in drugs?”

“Oh. Hell no.” Hal straightened, offended by the idea. “This is a real sport, mister. You have to have a clear head to strap yourself to a twelve-hundred-pound animal and hold on. We all get behind it at the bar every now and then, but he took this shit serious. Was saving to move to Montana and buy his own land.”

Interesting. Montana’s a big place to get lost in. “You guys know any other riders who did that? Move up to Montana?”

They both shook their heads but Hal answered. “I don’t know anyone who could save his money like Dan.”

If the man had some cash and no drug problem, there had to be a money trail. But why would his sister think he was a druggie? “Could he have started the drugs right before he disappeared?” Jim asked.

Hal pressed that mustache down again, stretching his lips into a frown. “Don’t see Dan like that. He was smart. Hardworking. The guy you’d trust your sister with.”

“Drugs change people.”

Hal shrugged. “I think you’re throwing your rope in the wrong direction.”

Jim stood and nodded. “I appreciate your time.” He said it to Hal but made eye contact with the blonde as well. “One more thing. Anybody else come looking for Dan after he went off?”

“Not that I can think of,” Hal said as the woman shook her head.

“Great.” Jim had a thought. “I need to get some cash out of the bank. Want to hit the bar myself tonight. What’s the biggest bank around here? Don’t want to pay too many fees.”

“There’s a First Texas Fed on Highway 377. I use them. Got an All Points ATM. No fees no matter where I go.”

Another leather-faced woman stepped up behind the cowboy. “You best get to the chutes, Hal.”

“I’ll get out of your way. Have a good show … ride?”

“Go.”

“Go. Have a good go.” Jim headed back into the Texas heat.

Follow the money.