Winter Counts(85)

“I didn’t tell them. Why would I? Not to mention the fact I have no contact with those thugs. I assume they discovered it on their own, or possibly this idiot said something to them.” He waved the gun toward Rick’s body.

“But you must’ve been working with Rick,” I said. “How else did you know he was here?”

“You told me.” He smiled, arrogantly. “I’ve had a GPS tracker on your car for months now. Needed to keep tabs on you, make sure you didn’t get too close to anything you weren’t supposed to know about.”

A tracker, shit. No wonder Ben knew every time I’d visited the lawyer in Rapid City. “Ben, please. Nathan’s innocent. I don’t give a crap if you sell pills. I’ll keep my mouth shut and won’t say a word to Marie, I promise you.”

“Too late for that,” he said. “Time to clean up the reservation. It’s for the best, I hope you see.” He paused and looked down at the remains of Rick Crow. “This one is no loss. The fool was even trying to set up a marijuana grow out here with his buddies. But maybe we can save others from the poison he was selling.”

He focused his attention on me and took a step closer. “And you didn’t think I’d let my daughter be with you? She’s been talking nonsense about staying here. Not going to happen. I had Delia Kills in Water fire her. She’ll go to medical school.”

He moved even closer and pointed the gun at my head. “Goodbye, Virgil, I hope—”

“Stop, Dad!”

I looked over at the back door. Marie was standing there, pointing my Smith & Wesson directly at her father.

“Marie, what are you doing?” Ben said.

She held the gun steady. He lowered his Colt a bit, but it stayed in his hand, pointed at me. I saw her glance at Rick’s dead body, but she kept the revolver aimed at her father.

“I saw you drive up and followed you in. I recognized your car.”

“How much did you hear?” Ben said.

“Enough. Is it true?”

“Is what true?”

“That you’ve been selling drugs on the rez. To our people. And you had me fired!”

He frowned. I kept my eye on his gun.

“Not drugs,” he said. “Pain medication. Medicine. Now put the gun down.”

Her voice caught in her throat. “How could you? Sell that stuff.”

“Marie, listen,” he said. “Everything I did was for our family. How do you think we paid for Dartmouth for your sister? Not to mention your clothes, vacations, everything. All I did was provide a service. These heroin dealers—they’re bad guys, they sell to kids. My people never sold to children. Not once. Now, enough of this nonsense.”

“No, Dad. This has to end. You’re going to the police. Turn yourself in.”

He laughed. “Police? I control those idiots. They won’t do a thing to me.” He changed his tone. “Honey, anything I did was so you and your sister could have a better life. That’s how the world works. You have to take what you want, that’s the wasicu way. Everyone skims from federal grants, that’s how—”

“The buffalo money!” she cried. “You stole that, too?”

“Marie, it doesn’t matter now. The money’s for your medical school. That’s a good cause, better than a freezer full of rotting meat. It was for you, don’t you see?”

While Ben and Marie were engaged in their family drama, I studied the situation. Ben was about ten feet away, next to Marie. I could try for Ben’s pistol, but that was far too risky at close quarters. The better move was to grab my Glock, which was on the chair. That looked to be my only play. I waited for the right moment.

“You aren’t like the people here,” Ben said. “We raised you to be different, do things—”

Seeing my chance, I jumped up and sprinted over to the chair, reaching for the Glock.

Too late! Ben saw what I was doing and kicked the chair, the Glock spinning away out of my reach. He raised his gun and pointed it at me.

BANG! A shot rang out, a deafening roar.

I looked up and watched Ben stumble and fall to the ground. Marie stood there with her arm still extended, the revolver in her hand.

I quickly pulled the Colt out of Ben’s hand, but by then it didn’t matter. She’d shot him right through the heart.

I could tell she was in shock. Her pupils were dilated and her skin ashen. I took the revolver from her hand and put it in my jacket. She didn’t object. Instead of looking down at her father, she gazed out through the doorframe into the blackness of the night. Stars, space. I couldn’t imagine what she was thinking at that moment.

I led her outside and sat her down on the ground, away from the bodies and the blood and the rank smell of death.

“Do you think my mother knew?” she said. “About the pills?”

“I don’t know.”

“I just—I can’t believe he’d—I don’t—” Then the tears came, quiet ones that looked like they hurt her skin. I touched her face. It was cold, like she’d traveled across an icy plain.

“You need to call Dennis, okay?” I said. “He doesn’t answer, call the tribal police. Tell them what happened here and that Nathan’s in the old slaughterhouse in Porcupine. That he’s been kidnapped and they need to get there right away. Can you do that?”