We Begin at the End(40)

Dee looked better than the last time he’d seen her. She wore a simple yellow summer dress and her hair was styled. A little makeup, just enough to push the soft in front of the hard. She carried a paper bag and handed it over to him.

“Peach galettes,” she said by way of greeting. “I know how much you like them.”

“Thank you.”

He had no tape recorder, no pad or pen.

“I already spoke to the officers from state police.”

“I’m just running over things. You want a coffee?”

She dropped her shoulders a little. “Sure, Walk.”

He left her, found Leah and asked her to put a pot on. When he returned Dee was standing by the window.

“It looks different out there,” she said. “Main. The new stores and the new faces. I mean, it was gradual, right. You know about the application for new homes?”

“It won’t pass.”

She turned, sat again and crossed her legs. “You think I’m weak … with Darke.”

“Just trying to understand it.”

“He showed up, bought me flowers and told me he was sorry. One thing led to another.”

“Tell me how it started with him.”

“He came into the bank, opened a checking account. I thought he was … cute isn’t the right word to describe the guy. He was quiet but tough—Shit, Walk. I don’t know what to say. He came in a few more times, always got in my line. I asked him out. He said yeah. That’s how it goes, right?”

“Before, you said there was nothing natural about him.”

“I was pissed, the house. I was lashing out. I tell you one thing about him.”

“What?”

“He was good with my girls. Attentive. He used to watch them, push them on the swings, you know. Just be with them. One time I came in from the yard and found him with Molly on his lap. Watching a Disney movie. There’s not many guys that would take to another man’s kids.”

Leah brought the coffee and left them. His hand shook as he took his cup, so bad he set it down again.

“You alright, Walk? You look tired. And maybe you need a shave. I mean, no offence or nothing.”

“So he stayed all night. Darke?”

“I kicked him out early, before the girls got up.”

He slumped back in his chair, the tiredness washing over him, eyes dry and muscles aching.

“I know you don’t want to see it, Walk. Vincent and Star and all that. But Darke, the guy can be an asshole, but he’s not what you think he is. Or maybe what you want him to be.”

“What do I want him to be?”

“The guy that makes Vincent King innocent.”

*

When she was done with the corral she moved on to the stable, the smell of shit not so bad anymore. Two horses, a black and a smaller gray. They had no names, that’s what Hal said when Robin asked. He’d been puzzled by that, Everyone needs a name.

Mucking out, scooping damp straw and shit and bagging it. Fetching a small packed bale from the store and forking it out and over. She knew to leave the wet spots, let them dry before she covered them over. She filled their water, gave grain twice a day, same exact time, the gray could get colic. She led them to their place and closed the gate, sometimes watching them run hard then kick and thrash like they were about to be roped. Duchess liked horses, as every outlaw should.

Gunshot.

It shook the calm from Duchess with such force she fell to her knees. The elk, one foot raised, heads tilted. And then they scattered and ran, so fast they were gone by the time she stood.

She sprinted for the house, heart hammering as her mind ran to Darke.

She calmed a little when she saw Hal on the porch, but his face was drawn with worry.

“He’s upstairs, in the closet.”

She took the stairs fast, into their room and saw him, on the floor, the blanket over his head.

“Robin.” She didn’t touch him just yet, instead scooted herself under till she was close.

“Robin,” she spoke softly. “It’s alright.”

“I heard it.” So quiet she leaned in.

“What did you hear?”

“The gun. I heard it. I heard it again.”



That afternoon Hal led them down to the red barn and told them to wait out in the sun. Duchess walked over to the door, peeked through the crack and saw Hal roll the mat back.

“Grandpa said to wait here.”

She hushed her brother.

Hal pulled up a door in the floor and stepped down. He returned with a gun. He held it loose in his hand, by his side, a small tin box in his other hand.

Duchess stood close to her brother.

“This is a Springfield 1911. It’s a handgun, light and accurate. Every farmer needs a gun. What you heard before was just hunters, it’s important you get used to the sound. I don’t want you to be afraid.” He knelt and held the gun out to them. Robin took a step behind Duchess’s leg.

“It’s not loaded and the safety is on.”

After a minute Duchess reached out and took it, colder than she thought, heavy when he said it was light.

She studied it with care, then Robin stepped out and looked. He ran a finger over the handle.

“You want to try shooting, Duchess?”