The Naturalist (The Naturalist #1)(37)

Always wanted one.

Underneath is a comment from Amber.

Bitch, you know I’m going to tie you up to that!

It’s the kind of playful innuendo I overhear all the time in the classroom. I don’t read anything more into it.

Although it’s a little odd that she’d buy a new piece of furniture before deciding to leave town. Not as unlikely as signing a new lease, but still, an indication that if she did move on, it was a last-minute decision.

I’m startled by a knock at the door. I wince getting up but take some satisfaction that I only audibly groan once.

Cautious, I glance through the peephole and see the motel manager standing there holding a bag.

I open the door. “Did I forget something?”

He raises the bag. “Jillian brought us some dinner.” He motions toward a picnic table at the front of the property. “If you can make your way there, we can enjoy one of the last nice evenings before it starts getting cold.”

I put on my shoes and meet him. A beer is waiting for me when I sit down.

“Gus Wheeler,” he says, holding out his hand for me to shake.

I return the gesture. “Still, Theo Cray.”

He pulls out two foam containers along with some napkins and condiments. “Hope you’re not a vegetarian.”

I open my container and get a whiff of the bacon cheeseburger inside. “I’ve given it up several times. This would make me do that again.”

Gus doesn’t make much conversation at first. I’m too focused on chewing my food without opening up the cut in my mouth.

It’s a beautiful evening. He stops eating to look at the colors of the sky as the sun sets behind the mountains.

“Every night, it’s like a brand-new painting. It’s always different, but nothing changes.” He nods toward town. “Some things do.”

“How long have you lived here?” I ask between french fries.

“I was born in Helena. I moved out here to teach at the middle school in Quiet Lake. Eventually I started teaching at Hudson Creek High and became principal.”

“You’re an educator?”

“I started off that way. Then, when things got worse, I felt more like a warden.”

I had gotten some of the story from Jillian, but I want to hear his version. “Worse? In what way?”

“Where do you want to start?”

“How far back does it go?”

“How much time do you have?”

“All night.”





CHAPTER THIRTY


LOST GIRLS

Gus opens up a second beer and continues. “People try to figure out the cause of things. They want simple explanations. Hudson was wounded long before it became infected. Used to be a trading post. It was called Swanson’s Creek back then. Trappers and Indians would come through here and more than likely get themselves swindled.

“That went on for a while before someone burned the trading post down. A while later silver was found in the hills.” He jerks a thumb toward a distant range. “There used to be a mine there a hundred years ago. Hudson was where you’d go to get drunk and go to the whorehouse. Loggers would come in from the camps. The two biggest businesses were silver and vice.

“As the town grew, men started having families. The vice never really went away, but the rest of the town grew big enough to hide it.

“When things get bad, the trouble comes to the surface. Now”—he shakes his head—“trouble is all we have.”

“Jillian mentioned the police officers who were arrested.”

Gus leans in closer. “Notice how many shiny cars there were in front of shitty houses? Hudson has two industries: pumping gas into the long-haul trucks and methamphetamine. The two aren’t unrelated. I don’t blame the young people with any sense for leaving.”

“Why didn’t you leave after you retired?”

“I didn’t retire as much as have my school close under me. We fell below the required attendance and the state shut us down. As far as why I’m here? Lots of people homeschool their kids now. Lots of people not qualified to do that. I tutor and try to help out.” He locks eyes with me. “You know what it’s like to be a teacher. You can’t give up on them.”

I wish I had his determination. I feel guilty for taking a compliment that doesn’t apply to me.

“Do you remember Chelsea Buchorn?”

“Oh, yeah.” He gives me a sideways look. “I heard you had a run-in with some of her former friends.”

“Yeah. That was . . . a mistake.”

“I’m going to tell you this, and you have every right to not believe me, but they’re not bad kids. They do bad things, but if circumstances were different, I don’t think they’d be pulling that kind of thing. Probably dumb stuff, but not to that degree.”

The kicks to my stomach felt pretty bad. “Why doesn’t anyone stop them?”

“Was there another young man there? Kind of a nerdy-looking one?”

I remember Amber’s boyfriend’s crony jumping out of the truck. “Yeah.”

“That’s Devon’s friend Charlie York. His father is the chief of police.”

“I see.”

“Actually, it’s a bit more complicated. Chief York is in Colorado getting cancer treatment. Or that’s the story. Rumor has it that he’s trying to dodge a federal indictment. The two they arrested were just the tip of the iceberg.