Borderland (9 page)

He
mentioned this when Vic finally came out to join him on the front porch. Vic
opened the Coleman cooler beside the peeling porch swing and drew out a beer
before sitting down. "I stopped at the churchyard and saw Dad's
grave."

"I
know," Nolan said. "You told me. Did you hear me about the
upstairs?"

"Yeah,
I heard you. Myra said she tried to talk Dad into renovating, but he wasn't
interested."

Nolan
licked beer and sweat from his upper lip. "That must've been when she
thought it was coming to her."

Vic
ignored him. "I always thought he was loaded. He'd talk about these studs
worth ungodly amounts of money and I pictured this place as a real Sunnybrook
Farm. Now I come here and find furniture and appliances one step past apple
crates and woodstoves. At first I think he's eccentric, right? Or a tightwad.
But then I ask Myra what he did with all his money, and she says she doesn't
know. I start to think okay, maybe he spent it on her, but then I look around
and see that she doesn't have shit."

"She's
got twenty grand in a C.D. at the bank in Garden City," Noland said.

Vic
looked at him in exasperation. "Will you get off that? That twenty is a
drop in the bucket compared to what he must've had when this place was
running."

"So
what happened to it?" Nolan asked.

"I
don't know." Vic took a swig of beer and wiped his forehead. "I did
call the sheriff at a pay phone in the grocery store. He claims he received a
report that the horses had been sold prior to Dad's death. The alleged buyers
even had my father's signature on the papers to prove it. He figures Dad just
forgot to tell Myra. When I asked who gave him the report, and just why these
people came to pick up their horses in the middle of the night, he said
everything looked legal and there was nothing I could do about it."

"What
about the cut phone lines and the dead animals?" Nolan asked.

Vic
looked at him. "Who told you?"

"The
kid. We talked while you were gone."

"The
sheriff said he didn't know anything about it, and if it was a simple matter of
vandalism we should talk to Ed Kisner. He did, however, give me a toll-free
number to call for phone repair. I thought that was awfully big of him."

"When
are they coming?"

"Tuesday
at the earliest, Friday at the latest. Myra was lucky the first time, the
repairman just happened to be within twenty miles of the area."

Nolan
drained his beer and leaned back. "What do you think? You think someone
was trying to run her off?"

“You
mean you believe her now?"

"I
didn't say that. For one thing, I can't see the purpose. Like you said, she
doesn't have shit. Unless they wanted that itty bitty air-conditioner in her
kitchen window—which I'm seriously considering stealing myself—I can't see any
reason to terrorize her and the kid."

"She
has an air-conditioner?" Vic glanced down the drive toward the white
single-width mobile home. "I found a fan for the girls, but that's not
going to cut it."

"She's
got a television, too," Nolan said. "And it's hooked up to the dish
in the back. I asked Cal about it and he said your dad bought it when they
first came here. He never got around to buying a TV for himself."

Vic
grunted and got off the swing. "You want another beer?"

"Yeah.
Where are the girls?"

"In
the barn with Cal. Both of them wanted to get out of the house. I guess it's
not what they expected either."

Nolan
took the beer Vic offered and screwed the top off with the tips of his fingers.
"Well, at least we have a swimming pool. I bet Myra doesn't have a
pool."

Vic held
his beer to his face. "A swimming pool?"

"Yep.
There's a big cattle tank out behind the barn. I say we clean the sucker out
and fill it up."

Vic
laughed and nearly dropped his beer. "A cattle tank?"

"It'll
hold water," Nolan said. "And if I can get the young genius to show
me where the pump and the hose is, we'll have—"

"Who?"
Vic interrupted.

"Cal.
Didn't Miss Myra tell you her son is a walking talking high school
graduate?"

"Must've
slipped her mind," Vic said as he returned to the swing. "No
shit?"

"Little
fart nearly swindled me out of a radiator for that Mustang in the barn. Hey, I
looked at the Lincoln, too. If Mom says okay, Cal is going to show me to the
nearest auto salvage tomorrow. I think we can put another gas tank on that big
sonofabitch without too much trouble. That's the only thing wrong with it that
I can see."

Vic gave
a sudden, bitter laugh. "I can't believe you, Wulf. Why the hell don't you
leave? I would, in your position. There's no reason for you to stay here and
put up with this sweltering, miserable shit. You brought us here, and I
appreciate it, but you don't have to stay and be miserable with us."

Nolan
swatted another fly. Vic wasn't telling him anything he didn't already know.
But he'd feel like a jerk if he left now. The way things looked, Vic had left
deep shit for even deeper and Nolan wouldn't feel right about abandoning him
until he at least had some wheels and a way to leave if necessary. And he was
sure it would be necessary. From what he could see, Vic's dad had been
something of a nut. The one crazy in the county who didn't plant crops for a
living. There was no way for Vic to survive out here. No way Nolan could see.
He'd have to put the place up for sale and take what he could get.

"Hey,"
he said. "Unless you're kicking me out, I'll leave when I'm ready, okay?
When that goat over there starts looking good I'll adios my ass out of
here."

Vic
laughed again. "She already looks good to me."

Nolan
glanced over and saw Myra coming up the drive toward them. "Miss Myra or
the goat?"

"Forget
it," Vic said, suddenly sober. "I'm not ready for that. I don't even
want to talk about it."

Nolan
nodded and fell silent as he watched Myra's approach. She was carrying a basket
of vegetables. Her gaze briefly took in Nolan's bare torso and legs before she
turned to Vic. "Here are the tomatoes I promised. And some beans, squash,
and radishes."

"Thanks"
Vic stood and put down his beer to take the basket from her. He paused then.
"Uh, how do I fix the beans and squash?"

She
smiled and Nolan took a closer look. Her eyes were much bluer than his own, her
hair a little sandier. Her boy looked just like her, but Cal's height had to
have come from his father's side. Myra was only three or four inches over five
feet. And, he had to admit, she looked pretty good when she smiled.

"I
can show you what to do when you're ready to use them," she said to Vic.

"Good,"
he said. "The girls think I'm a dunce in the kitchen as it is. You want a
beer?"

She
hesitated then finally nodded. "Sure. Are the kids still in the
barn?"

"Yeah."
Vic handed her a beer from the cooler. "I'll just take this stuff in. Be
back in a minute."

When the
screen door slammed behind Vic, Myra glanced uncomfortably at Nolan.

He
smiled with pleasure at her unease. "Want some help with that bottle,
Myra?"

"No,
I can get it," She bit the scab on her lower lip as she unscrewed the top.
Nolan propped his beer on his stomach and began to hum.

"Your
bandages need changing," she observed.

He
glanced down. "Are you volunteering?"

"No.
What happened?"

"I
played jump rope too long."

A light
of scorn entered her eyes. "Cal said he talked to you today. I understand
you were a fire—"

"Speaking
of Cal," Nolan interrupted. "I'd like to take him with me tomorrow
and let him guide me to a few salvage yards. We may be able to find a gas tank
for the Lincoln and a radiator for that Mustang."

"No,"
she said.

“Why?”

"Because
I can't afford a radiator and I don't want him running off with someone I don't
know and definitely don't like."

"Dislike
aside, we're talking about a used radiator here, Myra. Unless you're down to
nickels and dimes, a used one isn't going to hurt much."

"It'll
hurt more than you know," she said. "But that's beside the point. Cal
wouldn't know what to do with a radiator if we had one."

"Oh,
I think he would," Nolan said. "He's pretty quick. I noticed that
without him telling me."

Her
mouth tightened. "You must have aggravated him. He usually doesn't tell
anyone unless he feels the need to defend himself. . .or me."

Nolan
smiled again. "He was defending you."

"Okay,"
Vic said as he swung open the screen door. "All put away. Nolan, did you
ask Myra about taking Cal out tomorrow?"

"Just
now," he said. "She doesn't like me so she won't let him go."

Myra
sucked in her breath and looked at Vic. "I can't afford a radiator right
now, used or otherwise. I'll need every penny I have to stay alive until
August."

"Does
that mean you were counting on Vic's having the wheels to take you to town once
a week until then?" Nolan asked.

"Nolan.
. ." Vic warned.

"Because
if you were, you must be able to see your mistake by now. If I can't find the
salvage yards, we can't find a gas tank for the Lincoln. If we can't find a gas
tank for the Lincoln, we can't fix it. And if we can't fix it, Vic can't drive
it. Which means he can't drive you. Get it, Mensa Mom?"

Instead
of flaring up and stomping off, as Nolan had expected, she merely delivered an
icy smile. "I get it, Uncle Nolan. If Cal wants to go, I won't stop him.
But if anything happens to him…”

"Nothing's
going to happen to him," Vic assured her. "Nolan can take care of
himself."

Myra
raked her gaze over him. "Judging from the bandages on his hands and the
scars on his body, I have my doubts about that."

Nolan
grinned and heaved a huge sigh while batting his eyelids. "She
noticed."

This
time she did stalk away. Nolan chuckled and looked at Vic. Vic was frowning.

"Do
you have to do that?" he asked.

"What?"
Nolan replied innocently.

"Antagonize
women who don't immediately fall head over heels for you. You can be such an
asshole sometimes, Wulf."

“I
know."

"Well
if you know, then why do you do it?"

Nolan
looked at his beer. "Mental stimulation as opposed to physical. Come on,
Vic, it's fun. Right now she's honing the edges of that sharp little wit for
our next meeting. And she'll probably lie awake tonight trying to come up with
the perfect insult. I'll do the same thing, because I love arguing with a woman
who wants to put me in my place. I enjoy the challenge."

Vic
shook his head in disgust. "She's a nice lady, Nolan. I was prepared to
believe the worst, but she's very honest and sincere. And she's
struggling."

"Aren't
we all," Nolan said into his beer. Then he looked up. "Did she talk
about her husband?"

"No.
Why?"

"No
reason. Cal didn't talk about him, either. That made me curious."

"Why?"
Vic repeated.

"Because
teenage boys and young widows usually pepper their conversation with references
to the late man in their lives. Cal talked about your dad, not his own."

"So?
Maybe the kid was close to Dad. I'm glad someone was." Vic finished his
beer and stood up. "It's getting dark. I'd better round up the
girls."

Nolan
nodded and watched him leave the porch in the direction of the barn. Only
seconds after he disappeared into the dim interior he reappeared again, both
girls and Cal in tow. The blond boy was smiling as he approached the house.
Nolan looked at the smile and wondered how long the kid had been starved for
company. Genius or not, the isolation had to be rough on him. Tomorrow, Nolan
decided, he would take his gloves out of the trunk and see if Cal could throw a
baseball.

"Bath
time," Vic said, interrupting Christa's prattle about baby kitties. Andy
immediately began to argue with the command as she clomped up the steps of the
porch. "Can't we stay up a little longer?" she asked. Then she spied
Nolan on the porch swing. "Daddy, Uncle Nolan promised to play another
song for us later. It's later, Uncle Nolan. Will you please play a song?"

Vic
lifted his eyebrows. "Play?"

"Uncle
Nolan plays the piano," Christa explained.

Nolan
groaned under his breath at Vic's sudden smile.

"I
didn't know you played, Wulf. How can you know a man ten years and not know he
plays piano?"

"I
can't," Nolan said. His hands were aching from the day’s activities. And
the bandages needed changing.

"Yes
you can," Christa said. "Today he played rag something and then some
Jerry Lewis."