We Begin at the End(68)

“Part of me hopes he doesn’t remember.”

“I said that to her. She told me there was a decent chance he never would.”

“I think about all of you up there.”

“I watch out for him. This Darke. When she saw the car I thought he might’ve come, like she always said.”

“And now?”

“I’m still waiting. Shoot first ask questions later.”

Walk smiled a tired smile. Sleepless nights had taken their toll, wrestling his thoughts to the ground and pounding them clean out of his head. Some days he found himself on a stretch of highway and clean forgot where he was supposed to be heading.

“Goodnight, Hal. You take care.”

He replaced the receiver and yawned. Normally he was so beat he’d head right home, drink a sole beer and watched ESPN till sleep found him. But right then he got the overwhelming urge to see Martha, not even to talk, just not sit the night alone.

He picked up the phone, started to dial then killed it. He was fully aware of what he was doing, gradually sliding into a life he had no right to interfere with. It was cold, no matter how he felt, it was a cold and cruel thing to do. When she saw him she remembered the darkest part of her life, and she always would.

He walked down the hallway slowly, the station in darkness.

“Leah, I didn’t know you were still here.”

She looked up, tired, not even a smile. “Overtime, right. Someone’s got to sort the filing system out. It’ll take me the next month, even working through the night.”

“You need a hand?”

“No, you get on. Doesn’t matter if I’m here all night, Ed wouldn’t even notice.”

He went to say something, wasn’t sure what, but then she turned away and went back to work.

He headed out, thinking of Duchess Day Radley at a school dance, and smiling his way into the warm evening.

*

The snow, like the talk, worsened as they drove. Mrs. Noble asked Thomas about the dance. He told her it was the best night of his life.

Duchess watched snow build on the farmland beside, usually lost to the dark she could see a mile out to mountains.

When they reached Radley land Mrs. Noble went to turn but the driveway was deep now. Hal couldn’t keep on top of it, it was too long and the snow fell too fast.

“I can walk it from here.”

“You sure, honey? I’d take a run at it but I think we might get stuck the night.”

“Hal will be on the porch. He’ll see your lights and start walking down. You get on.”

She climbed out quick and set off up the driveway, before Mrs. Noble or Thomas could get out and try to follow.

Halfway, she turned and waved and watched them trail light into the distance.

She trudged the snow, lifting her new shoes high at each step. Gum trees stood, branches weighed under snow, arc of white like she was walking through a wedding arch. Free, she faced the sky, the turning snowflakes, the beauty almost too much to take. She thought of Robin and how they would spend their weekend, fanned-out angels and snowmen as tall as their grandfather.

When she cleared the reaching trees moonlight graced the old farmhouse and she smiled without knowing why. In the distance light burned in the kitchen.

She took another step and then stopped dead.

Prints in the snow, almost covered but still they remained.

Footprints.

Big prints.

The first time that night she felt the cold, the real, true bite of Montana cold.

“Hal,” she said, quiet.

She picked up her pace a little, her heart beginning to race. Something was wrong. She could feel it.

And then she saw him.

And she calmed.

He was sat on the bench, the gun by his feet.

When she reached the porch she waved, smiled wide, then climbed the steps. She’d tell him about her night, just how bad it was.

But then she saw his face, pale, tight, sweat by his head.

Labored breaths, but still, he tried to smile for her.

She approached slow, and then, with great care, she pulled the blanket from him.

And that’s when she saw the blood.

“Oh fuck, Hal,” she whispered.

He kept a hand pressed to his stomach, but the blood drained fast and steady.

“I got him,” Hal said.

He offered one hand to her as his life emptied. She took it, his blood to her like some fatal disease.

She let go and ran for the phone in the kitchen. Iver County PD on speed dial, she told all she could.

She left prints of Hal’s blood on the receiver. She fetched whisky from the cabinet and ran back out.

“Fuck.” She put the bottle to his lips.

He coughed, the blood there now.

“I got him, Duchess. He ran but I got him.”

“Don’t talk. People are coming, people who know what to do.”

He watched her. “You’re an outlaw.”

“I am,” she said, her voice breaking.

“You make me proud.”

She clutched his hand tight, pressed her head to his, closed her eyes and held her tears back. “Fuck,” she yelled it. She hit his arm, his chest, slapped his cheek hard. “Grandpa. Wake up.”

She looked down at the blood on her new yellow dress, and then down at the snow, where footprints led her eyes to white fields.