his firm grip on the steering wheel like he was driving on ice.
“Who were those people in the courtroom?” I asked
“Concerned citizens,” Keith said. “Very concerned. They are organizing a recall election to kick Deal out of office. They don’t like what’s happened to you and your sister. It was the last straw.”
“But how would they know?” I was dumbfounded.
“Seems there was this video someone put up on YouTube. Put up there by someone not too terribly bright. Someone not exactly known for assessing long range consequences. Someone who has a gift for bear-baiting. Someone who doesn’t have the sense God gave a green goose.”
My face flamed. I said nothing.
***
Josie packed and I watched.
“I’m so sorry this happened,” I began. “I’m just glad you’ll be back home safe and sound.”
She zipped her carry-on, then looked at me hard. “I’ll be back during Spring Break,” she said. “Next week. I’m not letting this go. This man besmirched my reputation.”
I closed my eyes and pressed my fingers against the bridge of my nose.
Besmirched.
Now that was a word. I wanted to put this behind us and focus on Mary Farnsworth.
But Josie was out for blood now.
“But why? What can you do?”
“I’m going to help with the recall election.”
We loaded her Mercedes and strapped Tosca into her cushioned elevated doggie safety seat which was designed to let her sleep or peer out. I leaned through the window and kissed them both goodbye while Keith watched, his hands shoved in his pockets.
“Sure you’re going to be OK to drive? You’ve had a hell of a night. And morning,” he added gloomily. “Might as well stay an extra day and get your bearings.”
“I’m fine. Harold is going to be right behind me.”
“I’d feel better if you would ride with him,” Keith persisted, “and leave your car here since you’re short on sleep. You’ll be back out in another week.”
She looked at me and winked. Harold had been up all night too, but then he was a man. She turned back to Keith. “I’m fine,” she said softly. “Really.”
***
Keith milled around the kitchen. I could feel his eyes on me, hear his unspoken thoughts. Knew he was biting his tongue to keep from reminding me that he made a wonderful living and even if every crop on our farm failed and all our cattle died, he could do right well as a full-time veterinarian.
So why in god’s name would a woman with a PhD want to tackle the work and humiliation that went with being a law enforcement officer in a poor county in Western Kansas? Yadda, yadda, yadda. I knew it all by heart. And I wished he would shut up, even though he hadn’t said anything.
Besides, I had work to do. I called Sam. “Still no information about Mary’s family?”
“No. The Bidwell County sheriff went over everything in her house with a fine-toothed comb. There’s nothing there.”
“Sam, that doesn’t sound right. Are you sure? There should be some old Christmas cards with return addresses. Something.
“Smith swears there wasn’t.”
“Did she own or rent?”
“Rented. It’s a little bungalow. Plenty nice enough. Neat as a pin. But nineteen years without buying? Just throwing money down the drain?”
“I don’t see how any woman could live in a house for nineteen years without having some evidence of family around. Are you sure this man did a thorough job? Would a woman know of more places to look? Should I volunteer to double check?”
“It wouldn’t hurt, but I’ve known Scott Smith for years and I don’t think he would overlook anything. He’s a good man. He says she didn’t even subscribe to magazines or buy books. Everything she read she checked out of the library.”
After we hung up, I headed for the stairs, then paused and listened to Keith’s guitar coming from the family room. He softened his powerful bass, but there was no mistaking his sorrowful mood as he strummed and softly sang “Knoxville Girl.” An ancient
“Who were those people in the courtroom?” I asked
“Concerned citizens,” Keith said. “Very concerned. They are organizing a recall election to kick Deal out of office. They don’t like what’s happened to you and your sister. It was the last straw.”
“But how would they know?” I was dumbfounded.
“Seems there was this video someone put up on YouTube. Put up there by someone not too terribly bright. Someone not exactly known for assessing long range consequences. Someone who has a gift for bear-baiting. Someone who doesn’t have the sense God gave a green goose.”
My face flamed. I said nothing.
***
Josie packed and I watched.
“I’m so sorry this happened,” I began. “I’m just glad you’ll be back home safe and sound.”
She zipped her carry-on, then looked at me hard. “I’ll be back during Spring Break,” she said. “Next week. I’m not letting this go. This man besmirched my reputation.”
I closed my eyes and pressed my fingers against the bridge of my nose.
Besmirched.
Now that was a word. I wanted to put this behind us and focus on Mary Farnsworth.
But Josie was out for blood now.
“But why? What can you do?”
“I’m going to help with the recall election.”
We loaded her Mercedes and strapped Tosca into her cushioned elevated doggie safety seat which was designed to let her sleep or peer out. I leaned through the window and kissed them both goodbye while Keith watched, his hands shoved in his pockets.
“Sure you’re going to be OK to drive? You’ve had a hell of a night. And morning,” he added gloomily. “Might as well stay an extra day and get your bearings.”
“I’m fine. Harold is going to be right behind me.”
“I’d feel better if you would ride with him,” Keith persisted, “and leave your car here since you’re short on sleep. You’ll be back out in another week.”
She looked at me and winked. Harold had been up all night too, but then he was a man. She turned back to Keith. “I’m fine,” she said softly. “Really.”
***
Keith milled around the kitchen. I could feel his eyes on me, hear his unspoken thoughts. Knew he was biting his tongue to keep from reminding me that he made a wonderful living and even if every crop on our farm failed and all our cattle died, he could do right well as a full-time veterinarian.
So why in god’s name would a woman with a PhD want to tackle the work and humiliation that went with being a law enforcement officer in a poor county in Western Kansas? Yadda, yadda, yadda. I knew it all by heart. And I wished he would shut up, even though he hadn’t said anything.
Besides, I had work to do. I called Sam. “Still no information about Mary’s family?”
“No. The Bidwell County sheriff went over everything in her house with a fine-toothed comb. There’s nothing there.”
“Sam, that doesn’t sound right. Are you sure? There should be some old Christmas cards with return addresses. Something.
“Smith swears there wasn’t.”
“Did she own or rent?”
“Rented. It’s a little bungalow. Plenty nice enough. Neat as a pin. But nineteen years without buying? Just throwing money down the drain?”
“I don’t see how any woman could live in a house for nineteen years without having some evidence of family around. Are you sure this man did a thorough job? Would a woman know of more places to look? Should I volunteer to double check?”
“It wouldn’t hurt, but I’ve known Scott Smith for years and I don’t think he would overlook anything. He’s a good man. He says she didn’t even subscribe to magazines or buy books. Everything she read she checked out of the library.”
After we hung up, I headed for the stairs, then paused and listened to Keith’s guitar coming from the family room. He softened his powerful bass, but there was no mistaking his sorrowful mood as he strummed and softly sang “Knoxville Girl.” An ancient
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