people breathing down his neck.”
“Fuck what he likes. I’m comin’. I can sleep in my truck at your place in Waterton. I can pretend to guide you and your crew while you do the dig. I know the site. My people love the site, and I wanna protect it. We’ll hide the masks in your cabin. On Saturday we fly out to the coast, get our cash, kiss Lau goodbye, and come home rich people.”
“Either I go alone, or the whole deal’s off.”
Sam broke into a belly laugh. “Don’t fuck with me, Randy. You’re pantin’ to get your hands on these little gold buggers. Look, we go, you meet him in the lobby of the hotel or somethin’, say you need to feel out in the open. I watch you two, make sure no shit goes down, what’s the big fuckin’ deal?”
Randy was about to insist again when Sam slapped his thigh, stood, and closed the suitcase.
“I’ll take these now. I stole ’em, I’m the one gets caught, I go to the state pen. You get to write your article on the dig. I gotta appreciate that. I gotta figure, too, that maybe you run off with my money.”
Randy knew he was cornered. “Fine. Okay. So explain to me how we’re going to get these over the border, when you’ve got them glued to your hip day and night?”
“Simple. I bring ’em to the site, here in Montana, just like we said.”
“Okay. But for Christ’s sake don’t do what you did last time. Say you’re coming, then you don’t show up for a day or two. I am still responsible for three students, so this dig goes right to rule. I don’t want any excuses about how you got drunk or how you’re on Indian time.”
“That’s Native time, old friend. We’re Natives now, Randy. And don’t you fuckin’ forget it.”
Randy could see his partner’s face flushing red with anger.
“Let’s go over what we have to do one more time. Please.”
“I come, like I said. To the site. You dig. Remember, we will be on sacred earth, so no shitting, no smoking. Understand? I drink some beer. I work on your van, but really what I do is hide the masks. I bring along some black garbage bags. I wrap up the masks in the plastic, see? I stuff ’em around the rim of your spare tire. Your students think, hey, what a nice guy. Good worker. He likes Randy. We drive to the border crossing. We shoot the shit with the guards. A guard takes a quick peek, what does he see? A spare tire, some plastic. Nothin’ else. We cross the border into Canada, out of Montana, we get to your cabin, we got ourselves a fortune.”
“I’m not happy, Sam.”
“You will be.”
Billy woke at 6:30 and took a walk. He heard the phone ringing as he crossed the yard through the wild spear grass, and he had to sprint to the porch, slapping open the screen door in front of him.
“It’s me, buddy.”
“Butch?”
“Yeah. I need to see you. How ’bout I take my Sunday drive out to your spread, and we can shoot the breeze?”
“Sounds fine. I get the feeling something’s happened.”
“Yeah. Something in the shape of an asshole with a need to smash up property.”
“How long will you be? I can whip up some waffles.”
“As fast as my cruiser can go at the speed limit.”
Billy was setting coffee mugs on the porch table when Butch’s cruiser turned into the yard. A meadowlark sang overhead as the dust settled. After breakfast, Butch told Billy the whole story as the sun played shadow tag on the butte beyond.
“We’re not sure who it was. Snuck in through a back window. Smashed up Sheree’s bedroom and stole some of her things. I think it was Mr. Ponytail, Woody. He’s got a big chip on his shoulder, and he doesn’t have a lot of polite things to say about Sheree Lynn.”
“Sergeant Royce can’t ID him?”
“The guy had pantyhose pulled down to his Adam’s apple. Royce ended up with a black eye.”
“How?”
“A plate got thrown at him during the chase.”
“Any witnesses? Anyone see a man with pantyhose on his head running down the street?”
“Not so
“Fuck what he likes. I’m comin’. I can sleep in my truck at your place in Waterton. I can pretend to guide you and your crew while you do the dig. I know the site. My people love the site, and I wanna protect it. We’ll hide the masks in your cabin. On Saturday we fly out to the coast, get our cash, kiss Lau goodbye, and come home rich people.”
“Either I go alone, or the whole deal’s off.”
Sam broke into a belly laugh. “Don’t fuck with me, Randy. You’re pantin’ to get your hands on these little gold buggers. Look, we go, you meet him in the lobby of the hotel or somethin’, say you need to feel out in the open. I watch you two, make sure no shit goes down, what’s the big fuckin’ deal?”
Randy was about to insist again when Sam slapped his thigh, stood, and closed the suitcase.
“I’ll take these now. I stole ’em, I’m the one gets caught, I go to the state pen. You get to write your article on the dig. I gotta appreciate that. I gotta figure, too, that maybe you run off with my money.”
Randy knew he was cornered. “Fine. Okay. So explain to me how we’re going to get these over the border, when you’ve got them glued to your hip day and night?”
“Simple. I bring ’em to the site, here in Montana, just like we said.”
“Okay. But for Christ’s sake don’t do what you did last time. Say you’re coming, then you don’t show up for a day or two. I am still responsible for three students, so this dig goes right to rule. I don’t want any excuses about how you got drunk or how you’re on Indian time.”
“That’s Native time, old friend. We’re Natives now, Randy. And don’t you fuckin’ forget it.”
Randy could see his partner’s face flushing red with anger.
“Let’s go over what we have to do one more time. Please.”
“I come, like I said. To the site. You dig. Remember, we will be on sacred earth, so no shitting, no smoking. Understand? I drink some beer. I work on your van, but really what I do is hide the masks. I bring along some black garbage bags. I wrap up the masks in the plastic, see? I stuff ’em around the rim of your spare tire. Your students think, hey, what a nice guy. Good worker. He likes Randy. We drive to the border crossing. We shoot the shit with the guards. A guard takes a quick peek, what does he see? A spare tire, some plastic. Nothin’ else. We cross the border into Canada, out of Montana, we get to your cabin, we got ourselves a fortune.”
“I’m not happy, Sam.”
“You will be.”
Billy woke at 6:30 and took a walk. He heard the phone ringing as he crossed the yard through the wild spear grass, and he had to sprint to the porch, slapping open the screen door in front of him.
“It’s me, buddy.”
“Butch?”
“Yeah. I need to see you. How ’bout I take my Sunday drive out to your spread, and we can shoot the breeze?”
“Sounds fine. I get the feeling something’s happened.”
“Yeah. Something in the shape of an asshole with a need to smash up property.”
“How long will you be? I can whip up some waffles.”
“As fast as my cruiser can go at the speed limit.”
Billy was setting coffee mugs on the porch table when Butch’s cruiser turned into the yard. A meadowlark sang overhead as the dust settled. After breakfast, Butch told Billy the whole story as the sun played shadow tag on the butte beyond.
“We’re not sure who it was. Snuck in through a back window. Smashed up Sheree’s bedroom and stole some of her things. I think it was Mr. Ponytail, Woody. He’s got a big chip on his shoulder, and he doesn’t have a lot of polite things to say about Sheree Lynn.”
“Sergeant Royce can’t ID him?”
“The guy had pantyhose pulled down to his Adam’s apple. Royce ended up with a black eye.”
“How?”
“A plate got thrown at him during the chase.”
“Any witnesses? Anyone see a man with pantyhose on his head running down the street?”
“Not so
Similar Books
