Bitter Creek (5 page)

Chapter 9

DU PRÉ STOOD OUTSIDE
the private-flight terminal in Billings. The little jet carrying Bart and Pidgeon and Pallas appeared, coming so swiftly out of the clouds it seemed to be going far too fast to set down. But it did, slowing to a stop two hundred feet away.

Pallas was first down the steps, then Pidgeon, and finally Bart, carrying a couple of heavy suitcases. He set them down on the asphalt and pulled handles out of scabbards and trundled them over to the big green SUV.

“Where's your old cruiser?” said Pidgeon.

“Stolen,” said Du Pré.

“Somebody stole that wretched thing?” said Pidgeon. “Good thing for you Bart loves you and has another.”

“Two more,” said Bart.

“Couldn't find the keys,” said Du Pré.

Pallas ran to her grandfather and threw her arms around him. They hugged for a long time. “I am here for two months,” she said.

“Give me those,” said Pidgeon. “There's more. …” Bart set the rolling suitcases on end, and he and Du Pré went back to the little jet. Bart went up the steps and in and he began to hand out sacks, shopping bags, and two more rolling cases, more shopping bags with thick cloth handles and the names of expensive stores on them.

Du Pré sniffed at one sack.

“Sopresatta,” said Bart. “Real hard salami. What you get in the stores out here isn't fit for bait for trash fish. …”

Du Pré laughed.

They carried the rest of the stuff to the SUV. Pallas and Pidgeon each had soft drinks from the cooler Du Pré had brought.

“Whew,” said Bart.

“She spend a lot of money?” said Du Pré.

“Pidgeon doesn't spend much,” said Bart. “I try to get her to, but she just won't. …”

Bart got in the passenger door and Du Pré got in the driver's side. He started the big SUV. The little jet rose up off the runway, streaked into the clouds. “It is nice,” said Pidgeon, “not to have to go through all the crap they put you through at airports now. …”

Du Pré drove down the steep road to the river flat Billings was built on. He turned on to the interstate and he speeded up.

“Water buffalo come?” said Bart.

“Yah,” said Du Pré. “I was you, I be careful. Booger Tom got a bad temper.”

“One of them does tricks,” said Bart.

“He may be steaks and burger by now,” said Du Pré.

“Oh, crap,” said Pidgeon, “that old bastard loves animals.”

… him only shoot people … Du Pré thought … like that dumb sheriff we have before Benny Klein …

“So,” said Pidgeon, “what has happened since we've been gone?”

Du Pré told them about Chappie, Patchen, Amalie and her story.

“Mother of God,” said Bart. Pidgeon and Pallas were silent.

“So we are going to find them, take them home,” said Du Pré.

“There will be a lot of people,” said Pidgeon, “who won't want this to come out. …”

“Yah,” said Du Pré. The big SUV rumbled along.

“The keys are in the cruisers,” said Bart, “I remember now. …”

“Not enough room all your stuff,” said Du Pré. They laughed.

“How are my horses?” said Pallas.

“Fat,” said Du Pré. “Need a good run, up to Canada and back.” The telephone set in the console chirred. Bart picked it up. He listened a few seconds.

“Just a moment,” he said, handing the phone to Du Pré.

“I ain't speakin' to that guinea bastard,” said Booger Tom. “You saw that goddamned water buffalo you was here getting Bart's fucking land yacht there. …”

“Yah,” said Du Pré, “he was in the pasture.”

“Well, he ain't now,” said Booger Tom. “He got into the grain room, opened the danged door, went in, shut it. He has his fat ass pooched up against it so I can't get in. He's eatin' real good. …”

Du Pré laughed.

“I quit,” said the old cowboy. “He kin git another foreman. …”

“You quit twelve times the last two years,” said Du Pré.

“I really quit,” said Booger Tom. “I am going to be gone 'fore you git here. …”

“Why you run off before you kill Bart?” said Du Pré.

“Give me that goddamned thing,” said Pidgeon, reaching for the telephone.

Du Pré grinned and handed it to her.

“Booger Tom,” said Pidgeon sweetly, “it's me. Now what is this fucking bullshit about you quitting?”

She listened.

“You're whining,” she said. “Cowboys do not whine. It's in the rules of conduct. Number six, I think.”

She listened.

“So you got an animal smarter than you are. I have a cat like that,” said Pidgeon.

Booger Tom's voice rose, crackling with electronic indignation.

“It's a first,” said Pidgeon. “The Australians have a sense of humor. …”

She handed the telephone back to Du Pré.

“She don't play fair,” whined Booger Tom.

“They don't,” said Du Pré. “Them women, it is the way of their people.”

“I think I will just shoot him,” said Booger Tom.

“Then how you get the door open?” said Du Pré.

The phone went dead.

“I finally got him,” said Bart, beaming. “I finally got him.”

“Look at this simple idiot,” said Pidgeon. “Now he has death following him on soft padded feet and he thinks it is a triumph.”

“Booger Tom very vengeful,” said Du Pré.

“Smart, too,” said Pallas.

“I think I remember him once admitting he had a math degree from Dartmouth,” said Pidgeon. “And the day he graduated he got on a horse and rode all the way to Wyoming. …”

“He lies a lot,” said Bart.

They rode for a while in silence, looking out at the prairie flowers that soon would burn and be gone.

Du Pré found the road north. He sped up.

“We tried to get a plane to Cooper,” said Bart, “but the flying service was booked.”

“I hate those planes,” said Pidgeon. “I think they are made of Styrofoam and duct tape. …”

“So this old woman is at Jacqueline's?” said Pallas.

“Yah,” said Du Pré.

“It is an incredible story,” said Pallas. “I have to do a paper over the summer. …”

“Pret' sad for a paper,” said Du Pré.

“It is not over yet,” said Pallas.

“Be careful,” said Pidgeon, patting her.

A big coyote sped across the road in front of them, after a jackrabbit. The rabbit ran flat out past some sagebrush and another coyote took up the chase. The first coyote stopped and panted.

“Run him in a circle till he wears out,” said Pallas.

“I will help in any way that I can,” said Bart.

“Thank you,” said Du Pré.

“America,” said Pidgeon, “land of the free, home of the brave. …”

They stopped for gas at a roadhouse at a crossroads. The gasoline was well over three dollars a gallon. Du Pré filled both tanks and paid with a hundred-dollar bill and he got six dollars back.

They pulled into Toussaint at six, and Du Pré parked in front of the Toussaint Saloon.

They got out of the truck and went in.

Pallas ran ahead and she jumped into Susan Klein's arms. They hugged and laughed.

“My, you have grown,” said Susan, who was not tall.

“Sea air,” said Pallas.

The ranch folk at the tables grinned and Pallas went round to say hello to them.

Bart and Pidgeon and Du Pré got up on stools.

“I am back here,” said Madelaine, “cooking, what you want?”

Pallas went to the kitchen; there were shouts and then laughter.

The television was on but the sound was not, Susan's firm rule. The day's budget of horrors crept across the bottom of the screen, the words often misspelled.

… three hundred dead in Iraq in the past week, mostly women and children … fifteen soldiers killed by roadside bombs …

Pallas came out of the kitchen and she sat by Du Pré.

They all had cheeseburgers and fries.

“Nothing as good as these,” said Pallas.

“You have to grind your own meat,” said Susan Klein. “Stuff you get elsewhere has a lot of cardboard in it.”

Benny Klein came in. He sat on a stool next to Du Pré. “So I get this call from the Manitoba Provincial Police and I says, well, I got this stolen car ree-port made two a.m. last Saturday. Doo Pray was playin' for about two hundred folks in the bar you know, so …”

Du Pré waited.

“They said you had time get another car get there,” said Benny. “I said I thought it was that car was done seen there, there was this long silence. …”

Benny sipped his beer.

“‘Her granddaughter is known to us,' said this cop, ‘I think that is where we need to look. …'”

Chapter 10

“YOU ARE USED TO SCREWING
confessions out of bad people,” said Du Pré.

“True,” said Pidgeon, “in my stellar career with the FBI, I did just that. But there are ways and ways of interviewing people, Du Pré, and I have had a lot more practice than you have. …”

“She is right,” said Chappie. “You look at this map, Du Pré, of the country there. Ver' big. If she could just remember where they were before they started running. We got four Métis trails there. Two of them, dip down into the Missouri Breaks, she was on one of those it might be underwater, them bones. …”

Du Pré nodded.

“I'm not going to be mean to Amalie,” said Pidgeon. “She is a lovely person. She is not the one who did the crime. Other people did that. I've interviewed a lot of victims, too, Du Pré, many, many. …”

“She is right,” said Madelaine.

“So I need to do this alone,” said Pidgeon, “but I need to have you introduce me. …”

Du Pré stood up.

He and Pidgeon went out to the nice new old cruiser Bart had just given Du Pré. To annoy Du Pré further, he had sprayed new-car scent in it, the aerosol car dealers use.

“It'll stink of bad tobacco and good whiskey in no time,” said Pidgeon.

Du Pré drove out to Jacqueline's.

Amalie was in the backyard. It was a very warm day; she sat in a loose cotton dress without her shawl.

“This is my friend Pidgeon,” said Du Pré. “She wants, talk to you some about back then. …”

Amalie nodded. “Women as beautiful as her usually aren't too smart,” she said, “or they are really smart, which one is it?”

“You were just leaving,” said Pidgeon.

Du Pré shrugged. He walked back to his cruiser and he drove off to the road that led up to the bench where Benetsee's cabin was. He smelled woodsmoke when he turned in the rutted drive. He parked by the cabin.

A badger stuck its masked head up from a hole near the cabin's foundation, loose stones set on the ground. The badger drew its head back in.

Du Pré knocked on the cabin door. The old man opened it, grinning with his brown teeth.

“You are never here,” said Du Pré. “Why you here now?”

“Most times I don't want talk, you,” said Benetsee.

Du Pré sighed. He went to his cruiser and got a jug of bad wine and he came back and he sat on the porch and he rolled two smokes.

Benetsee brought out a quart jar and Du Pré filled it for him and he drank it all in one long swallow.

“Good,” he said, holding out the jar.

Du Pré shook his head and he poured.

“This is all, you,” he said. “I bring Chappie here, get him sober, you are here then you are doing this. …”

Du Pré lit a smoke and gave it to the old man.

“Where is Bitter Creek?” said Du Pré. “Under that water, the Fort Peck Dam?”

Benetsee said nothing.

A red-tailed hawk flew up to the top of a tall pine and perched.

“Don't know,” said Benetsee. “I don't do this anyway, Bitter Creek people do this, they come, I don't ask them to. …”

Du Pré nodded.

“So you don't know where is Bitter Creek,” he said.

“
Non
,” said Benetsee.

“So what I do now?” said Du Pré.

“Be Du Pré,” said Benetsee, “like you have to anyway.”

“She is something, that old woman,” said Du Pré.

Benetsee nodded. “She find it for you,” he said. “She know where it is, just can't say yet.”

“Pidgeon she is talkin' her,” said Du Pré.

“Stones break,” said Benetsee. “We go and get more.”

“I am busy,” said Du Pré.

The old man got up and he went to the cruiser. He got in and so did Du Pré. They drove east and then down a long grade. The ice had come and shoved stones along from Canada, some of them good rocks to heat. The Wolf Mountains were made of bad rocks to heat.

Du Pré stopped at a gate, got out and opened it, got back in the car, drove through, got out again, shut it, and got back in the car again.

They bumped along for three miles and came to a cut where the road ended. There was a wide place to turn around.

Benetsee jumped out and he scampered down into the gully. He looked at some round stones at the bottom, nodded, and lifted one and set it up on the bank by Du Pré. It was the size of a small head of cabbage.

Du Pré ferried the stones from the lip of the cutbank to the trunk of his car.

Benetsee selected an even dozen, then Du Pré grabbed his outstretched hand and pulled him up out of the cut. The old man did not weigh much.

They bumped back to the gate, the old car nearly running aground a couple of times on the transmission case.

Back at Benetsee's cabin, they carried the stones to the little grade, dropped them, and let them roll down to the flat.

“Good rocks,” said Benetsee, “come from six, seven hundred miles north. …”

Du Pré nodded. They went back to the front porch and Benetsee had some more wine. “Why the Bitter Creek people choose Patchen?” said Du Pré.

Benetsee looked off in the distance. “Him need them, they need him,” he said.

“How you know they are not underwater?” said Du Pré. “Not in the Breaks, under the water.”

“They are not,” said Benetsee. “Their voices don't sound under the water. …”

“So, what I do?” said Du Pré.

“Be Du Pré,” said Benetsee. “Quit asking dumb questions. I got work to do, not answer dumb questions.”

Du Pré got up and he went to his car and he got in, and when he looked back at the cabin, the door was shut. He drove back to Jacqueline's, half angry. He had some whiskey, a smoke.

Pidgeon and Amalie were still in the backyard, but now the old woman had her shawl round her shoulders. They were laughing. “They been laughing a lot,” said little Nepthele. He was carving a cottonwood burl. The shape of a coiled snake was coming out of the wood.

Du Pré put on his reading glasses. “Snake?” he said.

“Yeah,” said Nepthele, “big rattlesnake. Saw him on the rocks the hill there. …”

He pointed up to some jumbled flat rocks a half-mile away. “You make sketches?” said Du Pré.

“
Non
,” said Nepthele, “I catch him, stick him in the freezer. Maman open the freezer, I forget to tell her. …”

Du Pré laughed.

“Snake, he is pret' cold so he can't move fast but she is still mad at me,” said Nepthele. He looked ill-used.

“Woman don't like finding snakes, the freezer,” said Du Pré.

“Yeah,” said Nepthele, “that's what she said, kind of.”

“He still there?” said Du Pré.

Nepthele nodded. “Froze now,” he said.

Du Pré went to the low shed behind the house that held the two huge freezers full of elk and deer meat and beef and poultry and fish. Twelve kids ate a lot. He opened the first one and didn't see the snake. He opened the second and found it. It was a big diamondback, nearly six feet long.

The snake was coiled on top of a box of elkburger, five-pound lots wrapped in white paper. Its eyes were blue-white with frost. Du Pré shut the freezer.

He walked back to where Nepthele sat. The boy dug at the wood with his tool.

“Big snake,” said Du Pré. “What you catch him with?”

“Snake stick,” said Nepthele, “over there.”

Du Pré found a cane with metal pincers at one end and a doublegrip handle and cables to work the jaws. He gripped it and he wiggled the pincers. He put it back.

“Where you get that?” he said.

Nepthele grinned. “People come, the university, look for snakes,” said Nepthele. “I help them. …”

Du Pré nodded.

“They give this to you?” he said.

Nepthele nodded, looked intently at his carving.

“Du Pré,” said Pidgeon, “I need to go home now.”

Du Pré stood up. “I am glad, you are getting education,” he said, looking at Nepthele.

“It is hard work,” said Nepthele, “but rewarding.”

Du Pré nodded. There had been a flyer on the wall at the saloon, offering a reward for the return of scientific equipment … and a camera.