Bull Mountain(75)

“Well, then, how about I come in there and we sort this out. We don’t have a whole lot of time before we have company up here, and my arms are getting tired.”

Another thirty seconds.

“All right, boss.” Deputy Frasier appeared at the door, thin and pale like a scarecrow up for three days on a meth binge. The repeater in his hands looked to weigh more than he did, and he held it pointed at the ground, as if it were a relief to let it drop. “C’mon in,” he said, and disappeared back through the door.

Clayton holstered his weapon and followed Choctaw into the cabin.

2.

Clayton hadn’t seen the inside of this place since he was a kid. Nothing hung on the walls, and the wood-burning stove was a rusted-out firetrap. There was nothing else in the wide-open space except dust, a few cases of crushed empty beer cans, a fold-out bed against the wall with no sheets, and two black plastic garbage bags stuffed to capacity by the back screen door. One of the bags was torn open at the top, allowing a view of the cash inside. Clayton blew all the air from his lungs and let out a disappointed “Damn.”

Choctaw took a seat on the bed and laid his rifle down next to him. Like magic he produced a quart of shine from the foot of the bed and took a long, gulping swig. He wiped his mouth and held the bottle out to Clayton. “I know you’re all sober these days, but I ain’t tryin’ to be rude.”

Clayton took a seat next to him on the bed and took the bottle. He held it a good long while before screwing the cap back on and setting it on the floor.

“How did you get pulled into this mess, Choc? Was it your buddy Chester’s idea?”

The deputy laughed, which turned into a dry cough, which quickly turned into a sob. Clayton wasn’t expecting that. Not once in eleven years of knowing the man had he ever seen Choctaw cry. He didn’t think he knew how. He reached across to put an arm around the deputy’s shoulders, but Choctaw abruptly stood up, snatched the bottle, and crossed the room. “Chester didn’t get me into anything. He was a good friend—a real solid dude. He saved my life over there in that shithole desert more than once. He got dealt a raw deal with that bitch in Tennessee. He couldn’t get any real work. He needed this. I told him it was a bad idea, but what else could I do? He was my friend, boss. I owed the guy my life. You don’t know how it was over there.”

Clayton waited for the rest.

“It was supposed to be a quick payday. Nobody gets hurt and even the guy we were ripping off wouldn’t come looking for what we took. Nobody was supposed to get hurt, boss. Chester—Allen—wasn’t supposed to get killed. It just ain’t right.”

Clayton stood up. “So tell me what happened. The only way I can protect you is if you lay it out straight. How did you know about the money in the first place?”

Choctaw wiped his raw, reddened eyes and took another swig from the bottle. “Let’s just take the money and get out of here,” he said. “Frankie and Lenny already took their cut, so that leaves a little over a hundred and twenty-five grand here.” The deputy reached into the open garbage bag and grabbed a wad of crumpled bills. “We could just take a bag apiece and dip out, boss.”

“Are you out of your mind, Deputy? There are federal agents on the way here right now to recover this money and haul your ass into custody. I talked them into letting me bring you in, to keep you from getting shot to hell. I need to know how you and Chester knew to rob these guys. Why wouldn’t the owner come looking for you? Who’s going to just write off a loss that big? Where did you get your information from?”

Choctaw laughed a delirious laugh. Clayton grabbed his shoulders and shook him. “This is no joke, Deputy. I had to do a lot of convincing to get them to let me come out here and bring you in myself. Now, I can’t help you if—”

“Who did you convince?” Choctaw suddenly looked hard and angry.

“What?”

“Who exactly did you have to convince?”

“The feds.”

Choctaw loosed another laugh; this time it was a deep belly laugh that bordered on maniacal. Clayton grabbed Choctaw by the front of his loose red flannel shirt and pulled him face-to-face. “What the f*ck is going on here?”

“It’s rigged, boss. The feds are what’s going on here.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about how it doesn’t matter what you do to protect me. I’m not walking away from this.”

“What are you not telling me, James?” Clayton was close to shouting.

“Chester said it was a fed who set him up with the robbery. He said the guy knew exactly when and where to hit those biker guys. He said no one would come looking for it. He said by the time we rode into the sunset, the dude we were stealing from would be dead.”

“That’s bullshit. That doesn’t make any sense. Why would a dirty fed do that without taking a cut for himself? What does he have to gain by serving it up to you guys? Why not just take it himself?”

“I don’t know, boss. I was just doing Chester a favor. Frankie and Lenny were in, I couldn’t say no. Chester was convinced the guy was on the level.”

“You got a name?”

“No. Chester never told any of us, but I did think it was pretty weird that the day after Chester comes to me with all this, that Holly joker shows up out of the blue, saying he knows all kinds of shit about Halford and you.”