seventy-two:
saturday, late afternoon

The elk stepped out the clearing like she owned the meadow, which she did. The plump cow made quick work of aspen sprouts and a patch of milkweed. From what Allison could tell through the binoculars, she didn’t have a care in the world.

“Let’s hope the view is as good as this for the Oklahoma Boys,” said Allison.

They had briefly discussed taking a detour to Button Down Camp, opted to head home in hopes Trudy might be back. Allison wanted to hear every detail.

“You doing okay?” said Colin.

“Whipped to the core,” said Allison. “Inside and out. Other than that, fine.”

For the last hour, riding quietly, she wondered where the anger had gone. It was there, but it was stuck to her bones. Stubborn. They were taking a break, sitting cross-legged side by side on a high ridge looking east. They had an hour left to ride. They were sitting as close as two people could sit, her knee tucked under his, sharing water and Fig Newtons. At this pace, they would arrive back exactly at dark. For now, the light was a golden kiss of serenity and order.

“Mighty quiet,” said Colin.

“Mighty got-a-lot-to-think-about,” said Allison.

“You recognized Woodrow right away?” said Colin.

“Hardly,” said Allison. “Like reverse-space drawings. You finally blink and see it the other way.”

“Think Sulchuk was above it all or you think he was out there hunting Mexicans, too?” said Colin.

“It might not be his style to get his hands dirty at that level,” said Allison. “But it will all come out.”

During one lull in the police interviews at Lumberjack, Duncan Bloom had given her a rundown from their night of research, more than a few mentions of Trudy along the way. She was happy for Trudy. Allison’s interviews with the police had taken two hours. No doubt she wasn’t done.

“So Armbruster was working against a friend?”

“A business partner,” said Allison. “Armbruster was hoping the whole hunting with dogs thing would be exposed and he’d have room to move in.”

Sunny Boy exhaled as if to say look at the time, look at the time. She was sitting on his lead rope. He had hay buffet on the brain.

“Armbruster was a soldier in the operation and wanted to find his own way to get promoted,” said Allison. “Best I can figure.”

“Kind of a long shot, do you think?” said Colin. “That somehow he could bring down the empire and keep his fingerprints off it?”

She was worried how she had reacted to everything, beginning with Kerry London. Maybe the arrival of the reporter and the helicopters had interrupted any chance for the emotions to erupt.

“As a way to stage a coup, it wouldn’t have been my first choice,” said Allison.

She found her heart focused on the half-corpse, his journey north, his hopes. Snagged in the wrong snare.

She thought of her patient in Grand Junction and sent another bundle of secular prayers his way.

She put an arm around Colin’s shoulders, kissed his sweaty cheek. She felt as if she took too deep a breath that she might sob on exhale.

The cow stopped eating, stood up straight and, for no reason that she could see, bolted into the woods. She tipped her forehead on Colin’s shoulder, reached an arm up and around his neck, pulled him close. He couldn’t hold her hard enough.

The weight suddenly enveloped her and it came shuddering up through her system. The half-corpse. Her patient in the woods. The dogs. Trained dogs.

She felt it now. She let the weight press down, let it crush her.

I see the workings of battle …

The thought came and she cried, anger right there.

I observe the slights and degradations …

She pulled Colin closer.

… cast by arrogant persons …

She couldn’t get every line, but recalled the essence.

All these—all the meanness and agony …

She exhaled. The dogs, the hunt, impossible inhumanity.

… without end.