Winter Counts(21)

She was quiet again, and I watched the road rushing by us through the window. Finally, she spoke. “All right, I’ll tell you the story. But just let me say it, okay? No judgment.”

I nodded.

“So, I was with Rick for about three months.”

My gut tightened.

“It’s not like we were serious or anything. I just wanted to have some fun, I don’t know, maybe I was rebelling against my parents a little. They always pounded it into us—we had to be smarter than everyone, do well in school, not drink, be good daughters. I guess I wanted to do my own thing for once. And I was still angry at you.”

I had to ask. “Did your parents know you were with him?”

“No,” she said. “Not at first. But I got into a fight with my mom and told her. To shock her. Let her know I was my own person, and she couldn’t tell me what to do.”

“What did she say?”

“She didn’t know who he was. But she told my dad, and he was furious; he said I needed to stay away from Rick. He threatened to disown me, everything.”

Her parents obviously didn’t like Marie’s choice of boyfriends. I couldn’t say I blamed them in Rick’s case.

“Like I said, Rick and I weren’t together long. I don’t think you’d even say we were dating. Mainly we just had drinks at the Depot. But I heard him talk on the phone a lot. You know, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I couldn’t help listening. So, here’s the thing.” She stopped for a second. “I knew he was bringing marijuana to the rez. I knew it, okay! And I didn’t say anything. I thought, it’s just pot, what’s the harm?”

She held the steering wheel so tightly I thought she might break it.

“But it was wrong. I knew it in my heart. The whole point of the Red Road is to get our people away from that stuff: weed, booze, whatever. I should have done something, said something, but I didn’t. Didn’t do a freaking thing. Who knows how many kids messed up their lives with Rick’s weed? Because of me.”

“Hey,” I said, “pot is not exactly a dangerous drug—”

“That’s not the point! People can get addicted to it, and it’s illegal in our state. I should have told Rick what he was doing was wrong. But I won’t screw up again. This time, I’ll get him to do the right thing.”

Now I understood why Marie had insisted on coming with me to Denver. She believed that you could reason with thugs, get them to change their ways with words. I knew better.

“I’ve known Rick a long time,” I said quietly, “and I know he’ll do what’s best for him, no matter who gets hurt, unless someone stops him. By force.”

“Make you a deal.” She took her hands off the steering wheel to emphasize her words, and I wondered if we were going to crash.

“Yeah?”

“I’ll tell you where Rick stays in Denver, but I talk to him first. Alone. Before any violence, okay? Let me see if I can get him to stop bringing that stuff to the rez. I think I can convince him.”

“Uh-huh. And how will you do that?”

“There’s something Rick really doesn’t want people to know, something that’d hurt his reputation if it got out. Don’t ask me what it is. I know he’ll listen to me.” Her face started to tremble a little. “This whole thing is my fault. The heroin, I mean. He started selling pot and then moved on to harder drugs. Shit.”

“None of this is your fault, it’s on him,” I said. “He made his choices. And he needs to pay the price.”

“Look, I know you don’t like Rick, but there might be some good left in him, okay?”

The image of Nathan with his blue-gray face flew into my mind, and I struggled to keep my temper. “If he’s such a good guy, why is he bringing that crap to our people?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “But if I talk to him, he’ll—”

“What makes you think he’ll change his ways? Your threat to expose him? He’s a punk; he’s always cared more about hustling cash than anything else. And what about your safety? I’m not leaving you on your own with him.”

“I can take care of myself.”

The blood was rushing in my veins. “I’m not letting you alone with that asshole.”

“That’s the deal,” she said coolly. “You agree that I get to talk with him first, then I’ll tell you where to find him. If our conversation doesn’t work, you try your way.”

I pondered my options. There was no chance that I’d let her out of my sight if she met with Rick Crow. But there was no need to tell her that now.

“All right, it’s a deal.”

THE SKYLINE OF DENVER appeared before us, the Rocky Mountains visible to the west, the skyscrapers presenting a synthetic counterpoint to the jagged peaks in the distance. I’d spent some time in Denver years ago but heard it had massively changed, as young people fled the high costs of living on both coasts in search of something less artificial and more real. And the legal marijuana in Colorado served as a beacon for a different sort of pioneer.

We drove down Colfax Avenue near Broadway, which I remembered as a pleasantly seedy boulevard with an abundance of street people, punk rockers, and vagrants. I was surprised to find that the seediness had been replaced with boutiques, bicycle shops, restaurants with strange names, and beer breweries. Where was the White Spot? I’d nursed many late-night cups of coffee there years ago.