Virgil “Dixie” Kane, Thumps’s next-door neighbour, was mowing his front lawn. Pops the dog was on the porch, watching Dixie push the mower back and forth across the yard.
Thumps left Howdy in the car, not sure how the two dogs would get along. He was certain that Freeway and Cookie wouldn’t appreciate Howdy running loose in what they considered to be their house. Better to leave the dog in the car for the time being, while he got changed for his dinner with Claire.
But that’s not what happened.
As soon as Pops saw Howdy, he was off the porch and up on the side of the cruiser, pawing at the door, trying to get in, while Howdy pawed and licked at the window, trying to get out.
“You got a doggy.” Dixie stopped mowing, wiped the sweat off his face. “That is so cool.”
“Not my dog,” said Thumps. “Just looking after it for a while.”
“What’s his name?”
“Howdy.”
“What a great name for a dog,” said Dixie. “Hey, you should let him out, so he and Pops can play.”
“They won’t kill each other?”
Dixie smiled. “Dogs aren’t like humans. They want to get along.”
Dixie was right. As soon as Thumps opened the door, Howdy burst out of the car, and the dogs began racing around the yard, knocking each other over, sniffing butts, barking, and leaping about, at joy with the world.
“I’ve thought about getting another dog,” said Dixie. “So Pops wouldn’t get so lonely. Especially when I’m gone.”
The dogs came bounding back on the fly, tumbled into Dixie’s legs. The big man bent over and gave them both a vigorous rub. And then they were off again.
“Cats are easier,” said Dixie. “You can have a couple of kitties, and it’s pretty much the same as having one, because cats don’t really care. But you can break a dog’s heart with a glance.”
“Can you watch him while I get changed?”
“No problem,” said Dixie. “Pops hasn’t had this much fun in a long time.”
Thumps looked down the street. All the usual cars were in their usual places.
“You know that guy who shows up from time to time? Drives a black Mustang.”
“Your ninja assassin friend?”
Cruz was right. The nickname was getting old.
“Yeah. Has he been by?”
“Not that I’ve seen. Course, he generally breaks into your house when no one’s looking.” Dixie gave the mower a couple of pushes. “But I’ll keep a lookout.”
“Thanks.”
“What are you going to do with your doggy?”
Pops had Howdy on his back in the flower bed. Howdy had his paws wrapped around Pops’s neck. Thumps had no idea what the two of them were doing, but it felt slightly obscene.
“Not sure,” said Thumps. “I’m hoping to find him a good home.”
“What we all want,” said Dixie.
Thumps started for the front door, when he realized that his grass had been cut.
“You cut my grass?”
Dixie shrugged. “It was getting a little long, and I needed the exercise.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“Neighbours,” said Dixie. “The bane of human society.”
THUMPS TOOK A quick shower, shaved, found a clean shirt. Dark slacks, sports jacket, and presto chango, temporary deputy sheriff to man about town. His hair was still wet, but Thumps figured it would dry before he got to Buffalo Mountain.
Dixie had stopped mowing the grass, was playing with the dogs.
“You got a good dog here,” he said. “Wouldn’t be so quick in getting rid of him.”
“Got two cats already,” said Thumps.
“And look how well Freeway and Cookie and Pops get along,” said Dixie.
Thumps had to pry Howdy off Pops, drag him back to the car.
“Good dog,” said Dixie. “Make sure he goes to someone who will appreciate him.”
DUKE CAME to the door in a T-shirt and pyjama bottoms.
“What the hell is this?”
“Material witness.”
Thumps released his grip on Howdy, and the dog bolted past Duke and into the house.
“Very funny,” said Duke. “Now, go get your dog.”
“Not my dog,” said Thumps. “This is the dog Nora Gage had out at the house. I found him at the shelter.”
“She left him there?”
“Evidently, she borrowed the dog.”
“Borrowed?”
“She was fostering him. Brought him back the day after the incident with Greeley.”
Duke turned to find the dog, but Howdy had disappeared into the interior.
“I’m eating dinner. I’m watching a game. I’m enjoying the profound silence of an empty house. If there’s a point to be made, I’d appreciate it if you’d make it and then remove your hound.”
Thumps kept his face flat. “I figure we could use the dog to find Gage.”
Duke closed his eyes. “Like a bloodhound.”
“Yeah,” said Thumps. “Like a bloodhound.”
“Do you know how stupid that sounds?”
Thumps took one step back, held out the leash, set the bag of dog food that Ariella had given him on the porch.
“I have a dinner date with Claire. Pretty important. I was hoping you could look after Howdy overnight.”
Duke took his time with each word. “You. Are. Kidding.”
“Just overnight.”
Duke took a deep breath, blew it out. “Is this your feeble attempt to cheer me up?”
“Nope.”
“ ’Cause it’s not working.”
Thumps took two more steps back, until he could feel his heel touch the edge of the porch.
“What’s his name?”
“It’s Howdy.” Thumps walked down the steps backwards until he reached the grass. “But you can call him anything you like.”
THE DRIVE TO Buffalo Mountain let him cycle through the last couple of days to see if there was anything he had missed.
Macy Hockney had committed suicide. It was a strange way to put it, as though it were a crime. Which, technically, it was. Not that anyone was ever arrested for it, even though it could devastate family and friends. It had laid Duke low, even if he didn’t show it.
And there was always the inevitable question. Why? In Macy’s case, the answer was easy or at least apparent. A brutal disease that had no happy ending. Nothing to look forward to with hope.
Suicide was, Thumps imagined, the only door that Macy could open in her own time, on her own terms. And had. Death comes for everyone. Macy had met it halfway.
Because I could not stop for Death . . .
Cisco Cruz had arrived back in town. Always a mixed blessing. Thumps liked the man, just didn’t trust him. And he had come with a friend. The mysterious Nora Gage. Retired customs agent, if Thumps were inclined to believe the woman.
Which he wasn’t.
All complicated by Stan Greeley, private investigator, who had been hired to spy on Gage for reason or reasons unknown. And now Greeley was dead from the complications of a fall, so that part of the mystery was a dead end.
As it were.
Thumps didn’t know what to make of Howdy. Where the dog fit into the puzzle. He just knew that he couldn’t stand seeing him in that tiny cage with a blanket and a water dish.
Ever hopeful, ever waiting.
The car thief wasn’t on the front burner. Thumps figured that that would get sorted out in good order. Cooley might have already managed to solve it.
Which left Claire. Thumps could count the times she had invited him to dinner. If the offer had been to her place on the reservation, he could hold out the hope that her reasons might have something to do with desire and summer rain.
But the dining room at Buffalo Mountain was more for commerce and colder storms.
THUMPS WAS WALKING across the lobby when an armoured personnel carrier pulled up beside him.
“DreadfulWater.”
“Evening, Roxanne.”
“About time you showed up.”
Roxanne Heavy Runner was dressed in a gunmetal-grey, shrapnel-patterned pantsuit. Her hair had been dragged backwards off her face, fastened in a tight bun, and held in place with a large metal clip that stuck up off the top of her head like the safety lever on a hand grenade.
“You need to be 110 percent supportive.” Roxanne pushed forward. “You understand?”
Thumps retreated. “One hundred and ten percent.”
“First of all, this isn’t about you. It’s about Claire and that little girl.”
“Okay.”
“Second.” Roxanne’s face softened. “How’s that sister of mine doing?”
The question was simple and straightforward, but Roxanne made it sound like a cruise missile on its way to a target.
“Deanna?” Somehow Roxanne had trapped him in a corner. “She’s terrific.”
“You think she’s too young for the job?”
“No.”
“Some people might think a woman shouldn’t be sheriff.”
“Sheriff ?”
“When Duke retires,” said Roxanne. “Job’s not that hard. Try running the tribal council.”
Thumps considered pointing out that while Deanna was terrific, she had been on the job for less than two years.
“Don’t know that Duke’s going to retire just yet.”
Roxanne took a step back. Thumps could feel the air rush in to fill the void.
“Was real sorry to hear about his wife. I liked Macy. Tough woman. You tell Duke I said that.”
“Mean more coming from you.”
“Probably not a good idea,” said Roxanne. “Deanna tells me I can be abrupt. What do you think?”
CLAIRE WAS SITTING at a table by the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the river and White Goat Canyon.
“Great view.” Thumps pulled up a chair, sat down.
For as long as Thumps had known her, Claire had lived her life in jeans and blue work shirts. She kept her business attire—dark pantsuits, dark skirts with matching jackets for meetings with state and federal officials—locked up somewhere in her closet. Out of sight, out of mind.
Claire turned in her chair. “You look nice.”
But there were other clothes in her closet as well, clothes for special occasions. Tonight, she was wearing a dark-green skirt and tailored jacket that made Thumps think of 1940 movies that featured rich people in nightclubs and on yachts.
“That new?”
“Old and new.” Claire ran a hand over the lapels. “From Gabby Santucci’s Daisy Buchanan collection. What do you think?”
“That would make me Jay Gatsby.”
“You’d need an art deco tux.” Claire shook her head. “Have you even read the book?”
“Better,” said Thumps. “I saw the movie.”
Claire’s laugh was pleasant enough, never shrill or boisterous, always gentle and under control.
“Did we enjoy our chit-chat with Roxanne?”
“We did,” said Thumps.
“And that’s why you’re sweating?”
“I’m not sweating.”
“You know, she frightens everyone.”
Thumps relaxed in the chair, took in the view, considered the menu. It had changed, and there were some intriguing choices. By the time the server came by to take their order, Thumps was still undecided.
“We have two specials,” said the woman. “A slow-cooked buffalo stew. Onions, carrots, potatoes in a red-wine reduction. It comes with a sourdough baguette and a green salad.”
“The buffalo,” said Claire, “is from the tribe’s new enterprise.”
“And,” said the server, “we also have a trout amandine served with wild rice and seasonal vegetables.”
“I’ll have the trout.” Claire closed her menu, looked across the table, fixed Thumps with her eyes.
“And I should have the stew?”
“Yes,” said Claire, “you should.”
Thumps smiled at the server. “What’s for dessert?”
BY THE TIME the food arrived, the mountains and the canyon had faded to purple. Thumps was always surprised how quickly it happened. Everything bright and golden one moment and not the next.
Claire split her fish with a knife especially designed for that purpose.
“I hear Cisco Cruz is in town.”
Thumps broke the baguette into pieces, buttered each one in turn. “Apparently.”
“And that you have a dead body.”
“Accident,” said Thumps. “Natural causes.”
“Sustained while the deceased was surveilling a retired federal employee?”
“How’s the fish?”
“Is it supposed to be a secret?”
“Nora Gage,” said Thumps. “That why we’re having dinner?”
Claire put her fork to one side. “No,” she said. “It’s not.”
Thumps tried the stew. It was surprisingly good. He had expected the buffalo to be on the tough side, overcooked. But it wasn’t.
“The other day at the picnic,” said Claire. “With Lorraine and Big Fish? Did you notice anything?”
Thumps hated moments such as this, moments where he was supposed to remember a specific and important moment.
“Ivory,” said Claire. “What little Hack said.”
And he especially hated it when he got hints as to the moment in question and still came up empty.
“She’s been having blackouts.” Claire’s shoulders slumped. “The doctor calls them ‘absence seizures.’ At first, it would only happen a couple times a week. But now, they’ve been getting more frequent.”
“Blackouts?”
“She’ll just stop. As though someone has thrown a switch. And then she’s okay.”
Thumps stopped eating. “You take her to a doctor?”
“Beth took a look. Sent us to a specialist in Helena.”
Thumps didn’t want to ask the obvious question, hoped that Claire would provide the answer for him.
“They did an MRI. There appears to be a shadow on her brain.”
The first question would have been hard to ask. The second was impossible.
“A tumour?”
Claire took a deep breath. “They’re not sure. It could be something called ‘focal cortical dysplasia.’ ”
Thumps waited.
“It’s an abnormal organization of layers of the brain. It can cause a kind of epilepsy.”
“So, it’s not a tumour?”
“Or it could be a low-grade glioma.” Claire was fighting tears. And losing. “Which is basically cancer.”
“Shit.”
“I should have probably waited until we finished dinner.” Claire wiped her eyes, forced a smile. “You want dessert?”
“Does Ivory know?”
“That there’s something wrong with her brain?” Claire closed her eyes. “She knows something’s not right. She knows I’m worried.”
“What can I do?”
“You’re doing it,” said Claire. “You’re having dinner with me. You’re listening.”
“Who else knows?”
“Beth knows,” said Claire. “I’ve told Moses and Roxanne.”
“And me.”
“My insurance isn’t going to cover treatment. It won’t cover an operation, even if an operation is possible.” Claire stared out the windows at the canyon in the dark. “She’s not a U.S. citizen. The adoption isn’t final yet. And when it is, they will claim that this was an existing condition and therefore not eligible.”
“That’s crazy.”
“The American health care system isn’t about health care. It’s a wholly-owned, for-profit subsidiary of insurance corporations,” said Claire. “And corporate profits must be protected.”
“Profits, profits, über alles.”
Claire frowned. “Über what?”
“Sorry,” said Thumps. “Two semesters of German at university. Look, there has to be a way.”
“How’s your stew?”
“The stew’s great.” Thumps set his spoon down. “What about Ivory?”
“Ivory’s mother and father were Canadian.” Claire poked at her fish. “My father’s from Siksika, so I have dual citizenship. The health care system there is actually about health care.”
It took a moment for the pieces to work their way into place. “You’re moving to Canada?”
“Calgary,” said Claire. “There’s strawberry trifle for dessert.”
THE PLAN WAS simple enough. Claire and Ivory would move to Calgary. Ivory’s uncle had found them a place to stay. There would be tests and specialists and more tests. Once they knew what they were dealing with, there would be more plans.
Thumps didn’t finish the stew. And he passed on the coffee and strawberry trifle.
“When do you leave?”
“Soon.”
“What about your place?”
“Roxanne is going to look after it.”
Thumps folded his napkin, set it on the table. “This is where the hero is supposed to ride to the rescue.”
“Right now, it’s Duke who needs a hero,” said Claire. “Ivory and I will be okay.”
“Until you’re not.”
“If that time comes,” said Claire, “I’m betting you’ll find a horse.”