Ghost Medicine (13 page)

The morning Chase stole that Ford truck right from out front of the Foreman's house had a lot to do with all the trouble we kept causing for each other.

It was a Monday morning, and I had been working at the Benavidez ranch pretty much every day. It was just before sunup. I was riding Reno up to the Bullers' place when I saw what happened.

The day before, Carl and Tommy had delivered a young gelding to a ranch about a half-day's drive away. I guess when they got back that night Carl was so tired he just left the truck with the trailer still hitched to it about halfway on the dirt road leading toward the main house through the Benavidez property. It was one of those things that's so unusual and unexpected that you
do
see it, not like rattlesnakes and mountain lions that just blend into the scenery. As the Foreman's house came into view, I saw Chase Rutledge walk right up to the driver's side door on that truck, get in, start it up, and drive away, trailer and all. And not just
drive away
; he sped off so fast the trailer fluttered behind like the tail of a tadpole.

There was a part of me that didn't want to say positively that it was Chase that stole the truck that morning, because it was too dark and I was too far away to see his face. But I knew it was Chase because of the way he walked and his baseball cap.

And I also know now that Chase Rutledge did what he did to us because I saw him that morning.

“Haw, Reno!” I nudged Reno with my heels and he took off running toward the Foreman's house. Just as we got up to the front porch, Carl came out the door, buttoning a shirt over his T-shirt.

“What the hell?”

“I just saw Chase Rutledge take the truck!” I said.

The lights turned on inside the house and Tommy came out onto the porch.

“Jeez, it's cold!” He was barefoot. “What's all the noise, Stotts?”

“Chase took the truck. Chase just peeled out with the truck and trailer and all.”

“Well, let's go get him,” Tommy said, and went back inside to get the rest of his clothes on.

“Well, why in hell would Chase Rutledge take the truck from right here in front of the house?” Carl said.

I didn't want to tell him that it wasn't
actually
in front of his house. “We should call his dad.”

Carl looked at me, then out at the road as he fumbled for a cigarette. His hand was shaking a little.

“You're going to have to tell him what you saw, Troy. You sure it was Chase?”

I looked at him as he lit the cigarette.

“Maybe you'd better go on up to the main house and check with Art first. Maybe he knows what this is about. Anyways, you could always give Clayton a call from there. Better to be sure first before you go waking up the sheriff and telling him his son's just stolen a truck.”

I really didn't want to call Sheriff Rutledge, but I was mad enough at Chase that it didn't seem to matter much.

“I better tell Mr. Benavidez, first then,” I said.

“Hold on, Troy. You want Tom to come with you?”

“Tell him I'll be right back after I straighten this thing out. He can saddle up Arrow in the meantime ‘cause we might have to ride in to the sheriff ‘s.”

The sun was just coming up when I got Reno tied to the hitching post in front of the Benavidez house. Mrs. Benavidez opened the door when I knocked. I knew I wouldn't be waking anyone up; the Benavidez family always had breakfast together before the ranch work began.

“Well, Troy, good morning,” she said with her displeased-sounding voice, a slight, choppy accent underneath it.

“I'm sorry to be banging on your door so early,” I said, “but it's real important that I speak to Mr. Benavidez. I think someone just stole Carl's truck.”

“Why don't you come in, Troy. We were just about to have breakfast. I'll have Luz set another place. Arturo's in the kitchen.”

I took my hat off and went inside. Mr. Benavidez always shook my hand when he saw me; hard, too, like he was trying to tell me something. Gabriel was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking milk. Luz made eye contact with me for just a second as she got up to fix a place for me. I hadn't seen her in a few days, had only heard her voice on the phone, and I guess I kind of missed her because I just watched her move through that kitchen like some kind of spirit. But the presence of Mr. Benavidez reminded me that I was there for another reason, even if I wasn't in a hurry to get to it.

Mrs. Benavidez poured me a cup of coffee.

“Hey, Troy,” Gabriel said as I sat down.

Mr. Benavidez cleared his throat, impatiently.

“I'm sorry, Mr. Benavidez, but I just think I saw Chase Rutledge steal that truck Carl Buller drives for you. The truck and the trailer. So I came by to see if you gave him permission to do that before I go and call his father.”

“Chase Rutledge?” Luz said.

The coffee was burning hot; I almost spit it out. I guess my face was half-frozen from the ride down here.

“Well, it was dark, but I'm positive it was Chase I saw take the truck.”

“No,” Mr. Benavidez said, “I don't know anything about that. What did Carl say?”

“He told me to come check with you and then call the sheriff.”

Mrs. Benavidez was heaping food on my plate.

“Give him lots of meat, Mom,” Gabe said, a mean smile on his face.

“Give him lots of everything,” Luz added, and I could tell she was looking to see if I was wearing that belt she had given me, which, of course, I wasn't. And the fact that my T-shirt was untucked and I was wearing a denim jacket still didn't hide the fact very well, either.

“Thanks, Gabey,” I said. I looked at the plate his mother set before me. “Thank you, Mrs. Benavidez.”

“I guess we should call Clayton,” Mr. Benavidez said.

“As much as I don't want to do it, I better make that call,” I said, “ ‘cause I was the only one who saw him do it.”

I wasn't too surprised that Mr. Benavidez showed so little concern for what had happened. It wasn't like Chase could get too far driving a truck and trailer everyone knew belonged to Mr. Benavidez, anyway.

“You might as well finish your breakfast first,” Mr. Benavidez said. “You know Clayton Rutledge's not going to be ready to deal with a problem this early in the morning.”

And I was relieved and grateful to be able to spend at least a few more minutes there at that table.

“I don't like that boy,” Luz said.

I looked at her and said, “Neither do I. Never.”

“I wonder what he's thinking—taking that truck?” Gabe said.

“I don't know,” I said. “But it's probly some stupid prank he's pulling to look tough in front of his friends. I hope he causes a lot of trouble for his dad over this.”

“I doubt he will,” Gabe said.

I thought Gabriel was more than likely right about that. All his life Chase was getting into trouble, but never suffering the consequences. If anything around town ever was missing, broken, or set fire to and Chase didn't do it, he probably knew who did.

Then the phone rang and Mr. Benavidez left us there.

“When you're done working for the day, I'll ride with you back home,” Luz said.

Mrs. Benavidez looked up from her breakfast to see what I'd say.

“I'd like that.”

Mrs. Benavidez sipped her coffee. “Gabriel can go, too.”

“Maybe I don't want to,” Gabe said.

I knew he was just trying to make his mom mad; I could tell by his smirk. Normally, he'd never say no to a ride out to my house. Mrs. Benavidez just exhaled through her nose and looked at the three of us.

“I'll be doing some grooming and clean-up work with Tommy, so I shouldn't be too late unless this truck thing becomes a big deal.”

Then Mr. Benavidez came back into the kitchen, looking grim.

“Thanks for breakfast, Mrs. Benavidez,” I said, standing up, “I'm real full.”

She eyed a measuring glance at what was left on my plate and scowled.

“I think you should get on the phone to Clayton now,” Mr. Benavidez said. “There's more to it than just the truck and trailer. Carl just called. He left five thousand dollars cash in the glove box from selling that gelding yesterday.”

“Deputy Rutledge? This is Troy Stotts.” I always sounded stupid on the phone. I got nervous talking to people I didn't really know. And all the Benavidez family were just standing there watching me, like I was a singer onstage.

“Stotts? The teacher's boy? The one missing last month?”

“Yes, sir.”

“It's barely seven o'clock in the morning, boy. Is something wrong?”

“Yes, sir. I was riding in to work this morning at the Benavidez ranch and I saw someone taking that F one-fifty the Bullers drive for Mr. Benavidez. It had a horse trailer hitched to it, as well.”

“You work at the Benavidez ranch? Aren't you kind of small? How old are you anyway?”

“Sixteen. Yes sir, I work here. I'm calling from the Benavidez house right now.”

“What do you do for ‘em?”

“Well, Deputy Rutledge, I was just calling ‘cause I saw someone steal that truck.”

“Maybe someone's just borrowing it from Carl. Are you sure?”

“Yes. I saw it. I talked to Carl and Mr. Benavidez about it and no one had their okay to take that truck.”

“Where did you see this?”

“In front of Carl's house. This morning, maybe at five-thirty.”

“In front of the Foreman's house? What were you doing out there at five-thirty?”

I breathed hard into the mouthpiece. This was the most I'd ever said to Clayton Rutledge in my entire life. Maybe I woke him up too early.

“I was going to work.”

“At the ranch? All right, then. I guess I'll have to come out there and we'll get this thing figured out. I'm sure there's nothing to it. You just go on and do your work, son, and I'll get out to Bullers' place later this morning. I bet we'll find the truck before then, anyway, knowing Carl.”

My heart was pounding hard; I was sweating a little. Maybe it was from that strong black coffee. Then I said it.

“Mr. Rutledge, I think it was Chase I saw taking the truck. And there was lots of money inside, too.”

“Chase? He's been over at Jack Crutchfield's since yesterday getting a motorcycle. Are you sure it was my boy?” But I heard the tone in his voice change, too, and I knew he wasn't just irritated over my waking him up.

“Well, it was dark still.”

“Let's just work on one problem at a time, boy. I'll be out at the Buller house in a bit.”

And he hung up.

And then he never showed up all morning, either. Tommy and I worked in the main stables all that time until just after noon, and when we had finished for the day we rode back to his house. Still no truck. No sheriff. Carl was sitting out on the front porch, smoking. He looked sick. He had been drinking.

“Rutledge hasn't been out?” Tommy asked.

“Hell.” And he exhaled a cloud of smoke.

“Do you think I should call him again?”

Carl shook his head and leaned back in his chair. “He's a real piece of work, that sheriff. Acting like he's really got a job to do around here. Hell.”

Gabe and Luz must have checked for us at the stables, because they both came riding up from the direction of the main house as we sat there just looking at Carl and each other, wondering what we should do about this.

“Well, CB, we're all riding Stotts home. So if he does show up, you can tell him where to find ‘em if he needs to. Come on, Stotts. Let's go.”

Tommy sounded disgusted with his father. He pulled Arrow's head around and I followed on Reno to meet up with Luz and our chaperone.

It was another one of those perfect times; like Luz softly combing my hair back with her fingers when I got thrown from Reno, or sitting in the hay-filled truck bed with her at evening, watching everything and nothing at the same time. When I look back at that summer and the years before it, those times I can remember most clearly: the colors, sounds, smells—riding alongside with these three friends I had grown up with: Tommy on that cranky horse of his, Gabe on his Dusty, who I know wanted to ride harder than Gabey ever would, Luz on her painted Doats; riding in that late afternoon when the sun had teased at warmth and then receded away behind the coolness of the stretching shadows making their way across the dirt road around the shore of the lake north toward my home.

I yawned big.

“Are you tired?” Luz said, and jokingly, “Tommy, you and Carl aren't working him too much, are you?”

“Work?” Tommy said. “Do you
work
, Stotts?”

“At the Benavidez ranch, sir.”

“You're pretty scrawny to work at that ranch, aren't you?” Tommy said. Of course, I had told him about my phone call that morning.

“What time do you get to work?” Gabe said, playing along.