The Fence My Father Built (29 page)

The whole crowd fell silent. The strange part is that standing next to Linc I could hear a slight grinding noise, the working of jaw muscles, the sound of a breath suspended in midair.

When the unexpected occurs, you look back on it and it plays in slow motion. That's the way I remember it: a graceful descent to earth past the sky. My foot slipped off the side of the platform, and I tumbled from Ed Johnson's truck. In reality it only took a second to lose my footing.

I landed on hard ground, unharmed except for a sore backside and wounded dignity. Rubin ran toward me. From the look on his face, I knew he thought I’d been pushed. He helped me up. I dusted the red dirt from my posterior and
ignored the rip in the elbow of my shirt. The hat lay crumpled at my feet.

“I’m all right,” I said, gasping to regain my breath. “Just lost my balance.” I tried to appear unshaken and looked up at Linc once more. “What about it? Tell us about the collector. The one that buys all the artifacts you can supply and is making you a very, very rich man.”

Linc acted nonchalant. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. He leaned over the side of the truck and spat into the dirt. “Drunks and nutcases must run in the family. You’re a liar, just like your old man.”

Rubin put his arm around me. I wasn’t dumb enough to climb back up onto the truck. Instead, I stared at Linc as hard as I could and repeated my challenge. “If my father was a liar, then you won’t mind letting the sheriff take a look around your place, will you?” I gathered the fake papers and waved them in the air. “And what about these documents? My expert says they’re forged.”

The gathering stood frozen as I fell from the truck, unsure perhaps, whether it had been a staged shove or a real one. They murmured now, as if they’d just heard a rancher's version of heresy. Finally, one called out, “What about it, Jackson?” Now it was my turn to smirk.

Tiny and Lutie were at the edge of the crowd, keeping Tru a safe distance away. Their presence strengthened me. I fully expected Linc Jackson to crumble right there on the spot.

But he didn’t. Hopping down from the truck bed, with Ed Johnson following, Linc abruptly abandoned the protest. But he stared over my head, refusing to make eye contact.

“I’m not on trial here,” he finally said. He turned to the ranchers. “You decide for your sorry selves whether to bring your animals to a vet who murders cattle.” He wheeled around
once more to point his finger at me. “And you—I’ll see you in court.” Linc strode off.

Everyone watched him go. The wind picked up and bit into our cheeks, and the sun hid itself altogether. The ranchers hesitated and then fired up their trucks. Some of them shook their heads, as if they knew they’d wasted a perfectly good morning, one better spent on chores.

Even the house and the barn and the emu pens took on a dreariness in the dusty haze. I’d never noticed before, but the boards on Rubin's porch were bowed and splintered in places, and the furniture looked shabbier than ever. Paint had peeled off the window sashes, revealing gray, dead wood. Spots in the chicken wire fences sagged where the emus had pecked unmercifully. The ladies from Red Rock Tabernacle might have said all this was a sign.

As people began to leave, Murkee's illustrious law enforcement showed up: one measly patrol car, with the same female deputy. I wanted to know what she intended to do.

“Linc's terrorizing my family.” My breath puffed out in angry clouds. “I’ll file charges. The whole crowd thinks I got pushed off that truck.” The deputy shrugged and refused to look directly at me. I answered for her. “My word against his? Well, now it's Rubin's word against Linc's. I demand some action.”

She looked puzzled and then sighed. “You’re welcome to file a complaint. But don’t go getting any crazy ideas. This isn’t the Wild West. ’Round here we pride ourselves on due process.” She eyed both Rubin and me and then climbed back into the patrol car, apparently satisfied that the riot danger had passed. “Shooting cattle is a serious offense in these parts,” she said. “If I were you I’d get a good lawyer.”

I
needed to report everything to George. But when I visited his office there still was no word of the expert's findings. Linc had already demanded to see the report, and I didn’t have one—unless you counted Tru's school assignment.

“I’m stalling for time,” George said. “But Linc's plenty mad. He's already in touch with the judge. What you did out there at Rubin's was, ah, unfortunate.”

“I tipped him off,” I said. “I admit that. But I know there's a fake deed someplace.”

“Our guy contact you?”

“No, but I feel it. And the missing artifacts prove something, don’t they?”

George shook his head. “Where are they? How do you know Linc's got them in his possession?”

“I just have a feeling, that's all.” I gulped.

George looked upset. “Linc may have already sold the pieces. If he's awarded the water rights, he can do what he wants with the creek. And if that certificate is genuine, Linc will sue you for more than slander.”

“I’ve got photos too,” I said. “And a university expert. Besides, Linc won’t be able to resist another good find. I’m almost sure of it.”

“You’re taking a huge risk, Muri. Huge.” He smiled. “But I have to admit you’ve got guts. Good luck.”

“Lutie says we’ve got angels on our side—better than luck.” I thought of Nova's angel. “Any leads on my daughter?”

“No,” he said. No one had heard anything except rumors that I might be as delusional as my father. “I’ll let you know the moment I hear something. Just don’t pull any more crazy stunts, okay?” George walked me to the entrance of his office.

“You have my word on it.” My shoulders slumped as I walked outside and started Tiny's truck. Sometimes I wished I’d never come here at all.

I drove to the creek to think, to yell, to cry. I knelt at the shallow spot in the creek where I’d buried the arrowhead and heart-shaped rock. I watched for a glint from the arrowhead, but there wasn’t a trace. I had to be sure Linc had taken them. Again and again I felt around in the silt and checked up and down the stream, in case the current had carried away the artifacts. Nothing.

I stood alone, my hands and arms dripping with cold mud, and listened to the creek burble. My bait was gone. I only hoped Linc's greed was as big as his ego.

When I got back to the trailer, Rubin was there. He and my uncle discussed the protest scene. Both men shook their heads in disbelief at my speech. Lutie fussed over me and wanted to know if I’d got the proof of Linc's shenanigans yet.

I washed my hands in the outside washtub. I wouldn’t say anything about the missing items. Not yet. “No,” I said, “but George says our expert's rushing it. We ought to hear something soon.”

Rubin said, “If we don’t then you’ll get blackballed too.”

Tru looked defiant. “Don’t say that,” he said. “You’ll show them, Mom. I know it.” He pushed up his glasses and then crossed his arms.

Lutie and Tiny were concerned as well. “You watch yourself, honey,” Tiny warned. “You never know.”

“What do you mean?” My heart banged against my ribs. I still felt the adrenaline of keeping a secret, one that could break Linc or else destroy me.

Rubin answered for him. “He means that in a small town you’re either family or you’re the enemy. There's no in-between.” He sighed. “After what you saw at my place, you might guess we’re both the enemy to Linc.”

“You didn’t do it, did you?” I stared into Rubin's eyes. “Tell me you didn’t go out and gun down those cows.”

“No, I didn’t do it,” he said. He raised his hand as if he was taking an oath. “As God is my witness, I only put down the two that were still breathing. Only merciful thing to do.”

“I believe you.”

“What are you going to do now?” Lutie asked Rubin. “I’ll speak to George—”

“Thanks, but I’ll handle this myself,” Rubin said.

I looked around at the yard, where the truck had mined new gouges into the sepia-toned soil. Already the wind was at work again, lifting and sifting dirt against our faces like a light dusting of face powder. Tiny turned to leave, saying the pigs’ feeding time was overdue, and Lutie hauled Tru away on some excuse about his homework. Rubin and I needed to talk and perhaps they sensed it, or maybe they were simply tired of standing in the cold.

I sat down on the tire planter and examined a tear in my shirt. “Linc's got to be worried,” I said.

I’d never seen Rubin look so discouraged. “Muri,” he said, “I’ve got to tell you something.”

“Don’t tell me you shot another pig.”

His smiled looked forced. “No. I don’t know how to say this, but I’ve decided to take Linc up on his offer to buy me out.” He didn’t look at me, just angled his shoulder around a bit as he rested his elbows on a stack of bicycle parts.

“You’re kidding. No, you’re not kidding.” I hoped Tiny and Lutie weren’t listening. I stood up and walked farther from the trailer.

Rubin followed. We stopped behind the burned-out shed. “Linc's got too much influence,” Rubin said. “I can’t survive as a vet if I’m blackballed.”

“We’re almost home free,” I said. “You’ll see.”

“I can’t wait.”

“What difference does a day or two make?”

He faced me, his eyes as sad as I’d ever seen them. “You’ve been here less than six months, not long enough to understand what it's like out here. People don’t forget things. People hold grudges.”

I had to keep fighting. “I’m sure Linc faked papers to sell the stuff. Once folks know the truth they’ll come back. Why can’t you trust me?”

Rubin kicked at the ground with his boot heel. “Linc's up to something; you’re right. But I’m not the only vet in the county. Those idiotic emus bring in more headaches than cash. And I’m losing the battle to restore the creek.”

My arms dropped to my sides. For once I was speechless. I remembered what the real Chief Joseph had said long ago. “Fight no more forever,” I said. I braced myself for something terrible and put my fears into the shape of a piece of really bad news.

Rubin's eyes narrowed. “I’m at the end of my rope with Linc, with emus, with everything,” he said. “I’m out of here.” He slapped the side of the shed so hard I thought it might collapse.

My body grew numb with a tingling that began at the soles of my feet, filling me with a rush of emptiness. Finally I said, “Where will you go?” This was the only thing I could force from my lips. A tornado of images swirled in my mind: the streambed dry and dead and bones of starved emus bleaching in the sun. I pictured myself standing against the wind in the middle of a desert, with all the life sucked out of me—and all because I’d come here to find a family. With Rubin gone I wouldn’t only be very lonely but also surrounded.

“I’ve got this buddy in Bend, another vet who wants to expand his practice.” Rubin said.

I placed my hand on Rubin's shoulder. “Please. Give me a little more time.”

“I’ve run out of time.” He stroked my hair. “It's not about you. You’re the one thing that keeps me going. But I’ve thought about it a lot. You don’t deserve any more problems.” He gazed at me with real hurt.

I leaned against his chest. “I’ve got as many problems as you do, Rubin. Actually, I’ve been thinking of starting over somewhere else myself.”

Rubin held me at arm's length. “Why? You’re certain Linc stole the artifacts, right?”

I looked away. “Sort of. Probably.” I sighed. “I’m hoping he took the bait.”

Rubin whistled softly. “You’re as dangerous as I am.”

“I feel about as dangerous as a newborn today,” I said. “But that's not why I was thinking of leaving.”

Rubin held my hands. “Because of me? I swear I’d never shoot an innocent animal.”

I shook my head. “No, no, not you. I feel torn, that's all. Torn between you and my father's place and my daughter. If I hadn’t hauled us out here, she might never have run away.”

“If? That's a big
if
, Muri. Besides, I think Nova just got carried away. She’ll be back.”

“That's what Aunt Lutie says. But it's been weeks. Even when I find her I can’t force Nova to live in the middle of nowhere. She was miserable here.”

Rubin's eyes took on a hopeful glint. “You could move to Bend. One happy family.”

I looked away. “If I relocate, it’ll be to Portland. Sorry.”

Rubin kissed the top of my head. “I’m sorry too.” He sounded defeated. “I guess we’ll have to get used to a longdistance relationship.”

I looked up. “For now it's the best we can do.”

He was suddenly guarded. “Listen, I’ve got a million things to do. I’d best get going.”

“Whatever you need, please let me know.” I held back tears.

“Definitely.” He ran a hand along my cheek and then quickly turned his back. Over his shoulder, he said, “I’ll call you later today.” With hunched shoulders and his head down, Rubin walked off. I hoped it wasn’t for good.

Staring after him, I watched his breath puff white smoke into the cold air. With so much to worry about, I could hardly breathe at all. I cared about Rubin, and I didn’t want to lose him. Stay or go? Portland or Bend? What advice would my father give?

I wished I could sit beneath that cottonwood out by the stream, just stretch out there, commune with leafless branches, and talk to my dad. I wanted to talk all this stuff over with the one who had started it all. The day I’d driven out here, Nova and her brother had sat in the back seat and pelted each other with food. I wished again that my daughter were here. My throat tightened as it did each time her face came into my mind. As time wore on, I thought of her less frequently. Now I was down to missing her just a few thousand times a day.

A
day later, the phone rang after dinner. Truman picked it up. “Mom, it's for you.” I guessed it must be either George or Rubin, but Tru shook his head. “Nope, it's that lady named Gwen.”

I had no idea I could move so fast. I sprinted to the phone, and Tru looked at me with surprise. Lutie's mouth gaped for a brief moment, and then she returned to the sink full of dishes, praying out loud. When Tiny came in and banged the screen door, she shushed him, and he grinned as if he was in on some big secret.