Neil McMahon - Dead Silver

"The only thing I got to say to you is, get off this property," he said harshly.

"Funny-I was just about to say the same thing to you. Again."

"This is family business. Stay the hell out of it."

Renee folded her arms and spoke firmly. "You are not my family in any way that counts, and you're not welcome here."

"You've crossed a line, Ward," I said. "Harrassment, stalking-police turf. Next step's a restraining order."

Then Boone Ackerman raised his hands placatingly.

"Let's just everybody hang on a minute," he said. "Sir, I don't know exactly how you figure into this."

Sir-the slick, respectful con. He waited for me to explain myself. When he realized I was just going to let him wait, he went on.

"Well, my son's right. We got a legal claim to this place, and you tearing it up-" he pointed toward the carriage house-"that's trouble. But if you pull off right away, we'll be inclined to let it go."

"The only trouble here is you giving this lady a hard time."

"We didn't mean to upset her," he said quickly. "I'm sorry to hear she feels the way she does. I always thought highly of these folks-and her father was my second cousin."

"By a half-brother," Renee said.

"That may be, ma'am. Still, it's a blood tie that can't be denied."

"I'm not denying it. It just doesn't have anything to do with this."

"With all respect, that's not so. Ward stewarded this property to aid his kinsman, who lay stricken by affliction," Boone said, working a little jailhouse preaching into his act.

Renee's eyes widened in outrage. "Stewarded! We let him live here free for years and even paid his expenses, and he thanked us by turning it into a dump. You people never lifted a finger to help us-just schemed to get something out of us."

Boone put on a rueful smile and shook his head.

"I could give you plenty of examples where that ain't true," he said. "Now, we're only asking for what's rightfully ours. It may not say so on any piece of paper. But if you search your heart, you'll-"

She slapped her palms to her temples. "If you start in like that again, so help me God, I'll scream."

"Time for you guys to leave," I said. "Any more hassles, and you better believe the sheriffs will come calling on you."

Boone sized me up with his reptilian gaze, looking sour, like he'd run into an unexpected obstacle that had derailed his smooth maneuvering.

"We'll respect her wishes, of course," he finally said, with the phony dignity of those who sought profit by proclaiming themselves wronged. "Come on, son."

When Boone walked off the porch, I saw that he'd developed a limp. It might have been genuine, but I suspected it was manufactured for sympathy. He sure hadn't gotten it from any work-related accident.

Ward stomped down the stairs after him and headed straight toward me, a schoolboy bluff to make me step aside. With equal immaturity, I didn't. At the last second, he sidestepped, but gave my shoulder a hard bump with his.

"This time it ain't two on one against me, is it?" he sneered.

Letting it go hurt even worse than last time.

Boone stopped walking briefly, maybe figuring he'd need to step into the fray and blindside me or supply a few kicks. When I didn't take the bait, he started toward their car again, but this time he forgot to limp.

I was tempted to make a comment, but I let that go, too. With any luck, this situation was now at a stalemate where it would rest.

Sure it was.

As Ward roared away with his signature spray of gravel, I started to shake, like I always did in the aftermath of a confrontation-sort of like an engine dieseling when it was switched off while overloaded with gas.

Renee came down the porch steps and surprised me pleasantly by giving me a kiss on the cheek.

"I think we deserve a drink," she said.

"I could use ten."

"It just so happens I bought you a little gift. Come on."

She led me into the kitchen, where the gift turned out to be a bottle of John Power amp; Son-a rough-edged Irish whiskey that I savored as an occasional treat.

"I love this stuff," I said. "How'd you know?"

"I asked Madbird. Tell him I got him one, too."

She had a bottle of chilled Clos du Bois sauvignon blanc for herself. I poured her a glass of it, then a healthy splash of the Powers over ice for myself. It tasted like the nectar of the gods.

"The nerve of those men," she said wryly. "Their pitch today was that they've decided to let me sell this place, but they want half."

I was almost amused. You couldn't fault them for thinking small.

Then Renee frowned, looking puzzled.

"That reminds me, I didn't see Evvie and Lon at the reception," she said. "You know, the couple that were here yesterday? She's the Realtor who wants to handle the sale?"

"They were at the funeral. I saw them going into the church."

"Huh. I can't believe she'd miss a chance like that to bond with me."

"Probably something came up," I said.

"I'm sure I'll hear. Anyway, thank God I didn't have to deal with her. Not a polite thing to say, but true." She picked up her wineglass and started toward the living room. "I'm going to run up and change. I'll only be a minute."

"You better stash that earring while you're at it. Sheriff's orders this time."

She paused and turned to me anxiously. "You talked to him?"

"I'll tell you about it when you come back."

Renee hurried on, leaving me, I had to admit, with tantalizing images flashing through my mind. Did mourning apparel mean black underwear? Was there some secret female code that dictated those things?

But my thoughts returned quickly to what had just happened. I walked outside and sat on the porch steps, aware that along with my anger and dislike of the Ackermans, guilt was creeping in.

At its core was an issue far broader than the personal one-a version of the old nature-versus-nurture debate, a complex calculus of being that involved the interaction of inherited factors and outside circumstances.

Ward, and probably also Boone, must have had a tough time in a lot of ways when they were growing up. Education and self-betterment were not priorities in their world. Their role models were lowlifes and outright criminals. God only knew what kinds of sinister doings took place in their warren of shabby dwellings. Whenever you saw a group of the younger clan members cruising around, it usually included a pregnant teenaged girl.

Then again, most of my friends had grown up without much-Madbird, for instance, on the Blackfeet reservation, a hell of a lot harsher than anything around here. My own father had spent his life as an ironworker, my mother as a grade school teacher. By and large, our household was no-frills and no-nonsense.

But my sisters and I knew that we could depend on them, that they'd provide for us and protect us, that their sternness came from concern for us-above all, that we were loved and wanted. To be a child who was neither, especially if mistreated besides, was a nightmare I couldn't fathom. And yet, so many parents kept bringing them into the world.

None of that resolved my feelings about Ward and Boone. They were still first-class shitweasels, who had made the easiest, most self-serving choices without hesitating to fuck people over. But thinking about the forces that had pushed them in that direction softened my animosity and made me face my own conceit.

Renee was a new kind of eyeful when she came out to sit beside me. I'd only seen her in around-the-house clothes and her black dress. Now she looked like a hometown girl, wearing tight jeans and a sweatshirt. And she seemed energized, even happy. With all her other problems that remained, getting done with the funeral must have been a huge relief.

The earring, I was glad to see, was gone.