Craig Johnson - As the crow flies

“Bullshit.” Chief Long wasn’t buying it. “It’s just too convenient, Agent-just too convenient.”

He shook his head. “I thought the same thing, but the BIA guys are the goods; on the up and up, really.”

She folded her arms. “Well, that leaves you.”

“Chief?”

The two of them turned to look at the field agent standing in the doorway to my right.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Chief Cly, but I got you a Coke.”

The AIC walked over and took the can, then dismissed the lesser agent with a curt nod. Cly turned to look at us, the soda dangling in his hand. “So let me get this straight, Chief Long-you’re accusing me of all this?”

“Who would you accuse?”

He glanced at me and then back to her. “Look, I know I’ve got a somewhat checkered past, but do you really think I would do something like this?”

She didn’t say anything, and I had just started to when he spoke.

“Ouch.” He started to open the can but then didn’t; instead he just stared at the pull tab. “That hurts, Chief.”

He continued on through the battered screen door, carefully closing it for comic effect. Then he stuck a forefinger and pinkie in the sides of his mouth and blew out a whistle that loosened a few more shingles.

A chorus of doors opened in the Fed vehicles out front. “All right, people, listen up. As is the plight of the white man in Indian country, our wagons have been surrounded and we are going to give up our prisoners.”

Lolo glanced at me and then back to him. “What does…?”

“You want one; you get ’em all.” The agents were smiling as they opened the rear doors and began unlocking the prisoners. It was all great fun.

I shook my head at him. “C’mon, Cly.”

He ignored me, tucked the can of Coke under his arm, and clapped his hands. “Let’s go, we’ve got lunch at Walkers Grill in Billings-the federal government is buying.”

There were mild cheers as they walked Kelly Joe and Nattie in their traveling chains toward the chief’s Yukon. They needed to make a little more effort into getting Artie Small Song from the Expedition, since he’d been heavily drugged.

“Thorazine.”

Kelly Joe was the first to poke his head back out the door and ask. “Hey, what’s going on?”

Cly shrugged. “You’ve been remanded from our responsibility, Mr. Burns. I guess they’re going to take you back to Lame Deer.” He turned to look at Lolo. “Are you taking them back to Lame Deer?”

She looked at him, defiant till the end. “Yes.”

He made a big show of slapping his forehead. “Oh, wait, I forgot. With the amount of controlled substances these two had on them the charges were upped and they have to be transported to a federal facility and the closest one would be Hardin.”

I stepped in close and looked down at Cly as they tried to get the limp and drooling Artie Small Song into the passenger side of the Yukon, Nattie having taken up more than her third of the bench seat. Finally, and with great enjoyment, the agents decided to just dump Artie in the rear cargo space.

Kelly Joe’s voice sounded from inside. “Hey, can I get some of what you gave him?”

“Cliff…” He wouldn’t meet my eyes and watched as his men closed the hatch on the drugged Artie. “This isn’t right; we brought this to you.”

He pointed a finger at me. “You know, Sheriff, I thought we had an understanding. I know you’re pretty much a by-the-book guy and I’m not, but we’re both on the same side and we get results.” He started to say something else, then thought better of it, and started off again. He slid in the gravel, and his voice struck the hard, sun-baked ground. “I owe you my life, but I don’t owe you my reputation.” He handed the can to Lolo Long as he passed. “Here, Babe, have a Coke and a smile.”

Lolo Long chugged her Coke and looked out the driver’s-side window at me standing there in the Law Enforcement Center’s parking lot, a place where I was making a habit of saying good-bye to beautiful women.

She pulled the pop can from her lips. “I figure I should enjoy it-it may be the last thing the federal government gives me.” She considered the can. “Along with whatever communicable diseases Cly might have.”

Kelly Joe and Nattie were still in the back, comfortably dozing in the Yukon’s air-conditioning. “Two hours round-trip?”

“I can do it faster.”

“Please don’t.” She laughed, and I placed my forearms on the sill and twirled the ring that was still on my little finger. “That’ll put you back here this evening; come have dinner with us.”

She shook her head. “I can’t. I’ve got too much to think about, and besides, I’ve got to go find a killer.”

I started to open my mouth, but she spoke quickly. “I know you didn’t want any part of this from the beginning, but you helped me, and then I thought you were feeding me to the Feds when they came up with the tape, but you didn’t. I really appreciate that and, whether you know it or not, I’ve learned a lot from you in the last week.” She tightened her grip around my forearm where I’d rolled up my sleeves.

“I wasn’t much help; as a matter of fact, I think I made the situation worse.”

She shook her head. “No, you didn’t.” She averted her eyes to the windshield and the glare of the late-afternoon sun, her words taking on a note of finality. “You’re probably right about me not being fit for this job, and I probably won’t be able to keep it, but it was nice to get a taste of what it can be like.” Her breath wavered in her throat. “I want to thank you for that.”

I thought about how this was not how it was supposed to end, with her providing cab service for the Feds and me walking away. In a perfect cinematic world we would’ve captured the bad guys in spectacular fashion with explosions, car chases, and a parting kiss. She would’ve been played by Ava Gardner, and I would’ve been played by Robert Taylor.

I looked at her. “I was wrong.”

She looked back at me, and I could feel her eyes on the side of my face.

“You’re going to make a great cop if you stick to it.” I turned back and tried not to let the sickle-shaped scar draw my attention like a tide. “Don’t let them run you off your patch; you can do a lot of good here.”

Her eyes stayed level, and there was no irony in her response. “Thanks.” She patted my arm. “I’ll see you around, Sheriff.” She pulled the gear lever down. “Who knows, I might need a job.”

I watched as the GMC whipped from the parking lot and headed out for the territories west. I was thinking about a lot of things and felt that strange feeling-like a thought that needed scratching, the one I couldn’t reach-but the final thought before I started to wrestle with the starter on my nemesis was that I was hungry. The next thought was that I didn’t have anybody to have delayed lunch with when it dawned on me that I did.

He was still waiting by the hospital bed when I came to get him, but his charge was fast asleep in the crib. His tail thumped the floor, and his mouth lolled open with an inviting smile.

Lolo’s mother stood by me with a clipboard under her arm as we watched Adrian move once, place a tiny hand by his head, and relax again.

I spoke softly, like I was in church. “He’s a quiet kid; the only time I ever heard him cry was when somebody threw him off a cliff.”

She looked at me for a moment, possibly unused to cop humor, and then nodded. “I think he’s cried three times since he’s been here. At feeding time or changing his diapers, you come in and he’s just looking around like he’s taking in the place. Audrey used to bring him to work with her, and nobody complained because he was such a good little guy.” She walked over to the crib and arranged the blanket, her hand lingering on the child. “I was out putting some things in my car and saw Lolo pulling out hell bent for leather, not that she drives any other way.”