Don Winslow - Way Down on the High Lonely

“Stand up when I come in the room!” she ordered.

“You can save the act, Doreen. I just want to talk.”

She sat down on the bed beside him. “I’m not going to tell you the story of my life, if that’s what you’re hoping for.”

At closer inspection, she was older than Neal had thought. Now he put her in her middle thirties and figured that she was developing this little specialty act to stretch out her working life by a couple of years.

“No,” Neal said. “I was hoping you could tell me something about my buddy Harley McCall.”

She leaned back and laughed.

“There is very little I couldn’t tell you about that son of a bitch,” she said. Her voice had turned hard and bitter. “But why should I?”

Neal knew right then that McCall had skipped out again.

“Why shouldn’t you, if he’s a son of a bitch?” he asked.

She looked him over.

“You’re no friend of Harley’s,” she said.

“Neither are you.”

“But that don’t make us friends.”

Neal got up from the bed and took his wallet from his pants pocket. He laid five hundred-dollar bills on the bed. “Maybe this does.”

Doreen looked at the money and gave a little snort. “After all,” she said, “I’m a whore. Is that what you’re saying?”

“Pretty much.”

“Well, you’re pretty much right.”

She scooped the bills up and stuffed them into the dress pocket.

“Harley stayed here awhile with the little boy,” she said. “That’s probably why you’re looking for him, right?”

Neal didn’t answer.

“Right,” she said. “He got a job as a bouncer on the night shift. Bobby put him and the boy up in one of the trailers in back as part of the deal. Harley and me hooked up about the second day he was here, I guess. He’s a good-looking son of a buck. I even switched over to day hours so I could baby-sit Cody nights. Fixed his meals, watched TV with him, tucked him in. It was kind of nice. I guess I had thoughts about becoming a real-life family, but it didn’t last.”

“What happened?”

“We had a black guy come in from one of the bases out around Fallon. He picked me out of the roundup. Harley got wind of it and went nuts. Got mean drunk and said things.”

“What things?”

“You want a lot for your money.”

“It’s a lot of money,” Neal answered.

“Said he just couldn’t even think about putting his thing where a nigger had put his, called me a no-good whore. I imagine he’s right. This is no kind of work for a white woman. Anyway, he packed up his stuff, put Cody in the pickup, and took off.”

She put a pillow behind her head and leaned back against the wall.

“Do you know where he went?” Neal asked.

“Maybe. We had talked about it a lot, because we had been going to go together. There’s a ranch near Austin that was looking for hands. Harley knew the owner from California and had some buddies working the place. We was just working here to put some money away to eventually buy our own place. I’m sure he headed there without me. I’ve even thought about trying to look him up myself, see if… so you think you got your five hundred’s worth yet?”

“Do you remember the name of the ranch?” Neal asked, not believing he was going to be that lucky.

She shook her head. “The son of a bitch never said. Maybe he was always figuring on dumping me.”

“How long ago did he leave?”

“It’s been about a month now, I guess.”

Well, at least we’re whittling it down, Neal thought. “Okay, thanks.”

She sat up and gave him a nasty, knowing smile.

“You still got seventy bucks’ worth coming to you,” she said. She flicked the switch against her hand. “I mean, you chose the school-marm for some reason, huh?”

“I figured it would be the one where you’d be wearing the most clothes.”

She stared into his eyes. “You’re a real bastard.”

That about sums it up, Neal thought. “I’ll take the shower, though,” he said, “if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind if you drown.” She got up from the bed and stalked out.

Neal showered, then headed out the door. He was about halfway back down the gravel pathway when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned around and the bouncer from the corral stuck a big revolver under his nose and cocked the hammer. He still had his shades on.

“Turn back around,” he said.

“Absolutely.”

The cowboy smashed the pistol right behind Neal’s ear and Neal dropped to the ground. He was conscious just long enough to hear the cowboy say, “Help me get him in his car.”

The cowboy grabbed him under his arms and Doreen took his feet. They shoved him into the passenger seat of the Nova and drove him about five miles east along the highway. Doreen relieved his wallet of the rest of his expense money, about twelve hundred dollars, during the ride. The cowboy pulled the Nova off onto a little washout, dragged Neal out of the car, and laid him alongside some rabbit brush.

Neal started to wake up when he heard shots. He cracked an eye open enough to see the cowboy put a slug into each of the Nova’s tires and another in the gas tank.

“Let’s get out of here,” said the cowboy.

“Not quite yet,” said Doreen.

She hauled back and planted a nice sharp schoolmarm shoe into Neal’s groin and then into his ribs.

“That’ll teach the uppity son of a bitch,” she said.

Neal passed out again.

He woke up to the sound of tires crackling on the dry gravel.

I wonder if Matt and Miss Kitty are coming back to polish me off, Neal thought. Maybe I should try to crawl out of here.

He was lying on his stomach. He touched the right side of his head and felt blood caked in his hair. He traced the blood where it had run down his neck, then he tried to lift his head up out of the dirt. But even that small effort sent a bolt of pain searing across his ribs and started his head throbbing all over again.

He laid his head back down and settled for just raising his eyes to the battered car that sat between him and the road. He smelled gasoline and knew he should get up, but it just felt like too much work.

A car door shut. Footsteps came closer. Neal saw cowboy boots.

“What in the name of Sam Hill…?” a man’s voice asked. “Are you all right?”

Neal raised an eye to see a middle-aged man in a green gimme cap leaning over him.

“I’ve been better,” Neal mumbled.

“I’ll bet you have.”

The man gently turned him over on his back.

“That’s quite a knock you have on your head.”

Not to mention my balls, Neal thought. Ouch.

“What the hell happened to you?”

“I’m not sure I know.”

The man chuckled. “You didn’t by chance enter the bareback event at the Filly Ranch, did you?”

“I guess I got thrown.”

“Well, you wouldn’t be the first. Come on.”

The man gently held him under the arms and lifted him to his feet. Neal’s feet didn’t really want the responsibility.

The man picked Neal’s wallet up from the ground and looked inside. “You won’t have to worry about managing your money anymore.”

“Shit.”

“Although, judging by your vehicle, it doesn’t look like it was ever a very big concern for you.”

Neal steadied himself on the old Nova and looked around. He could have been on the moon except the moon wasn’t this flat. There was nothing but desert around.

What the hell am I doing out here? he asked himself. Oh yeah, Cody McCall.

“I think I can drive,” he said to the man, who was just sort of standing there staring at him.

The man laughed. “Where do you want to go?”

“Nowhere, really.”

“Well, that’s about where you’ll get in this car. I’ve never seen a car that’s been shot before. Somebody must’ve taken a real dislike to you.”