Izzie’s mom still a gambler? Did Izzie have unpaid debts? Clay didn’t want to believe it, but he’d learned from hard experience that things were not always what they seemed.
“Don’t hitch your wagon to that horse, son. Right now, Izzie is in trouble, and she is trouble. Best keep your distance.”
When a friend was in trouble, wasn’t that when they needed you? Clay remembered when everyone he counted on had left him. But not his family. They had stuck.
A tribal police car passed them, pulling in front of their truck and leading them the rest of the way to the Nosie place.
Donner turned the wheel with a grunt, and they headed up Izzie’s drive. They passed a police unit parked by the fence. Pizarro pulled beside it, and Donner stopped in the drive.
Izzie stood before the gate. She had all the cattle in the lower pasture and waited by the fence, her face stoic and her posture erect. Clay’s heart hitched at the sight of her, alone with only one hired hand, Max Reyes, to help her. Must have taken them all morning to round them up.
“Any results on the blood work on her cows?” asked Clay.
“That’s between your brother, Gabe and the state. We just do as we’re told.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Come on. Jeez, I hate this part.”
He’d expected to see Gabe there, but it was Kino waiting in the squad car. He stepped out as Donner descended. Clay hung back with Kino as Donner and Izzie exchanged a few words. Donner handed over the order of collection.
He and the other two boys got to work. They didn’t need the horses or ATV. Just used their lariats to shoo the herd to the truck. Clay drove the first load in with his coworker, Roger Tolino, riding shotgun. Once they had them in the tribal quarantine area, they returned for the second load.
Izzie clutched the order of removal in her hand like a stress ball, watching in silence as they gathered her remaining cows. Beside her, her mother smoked a cigarette and focused her attention on Clay and the distance he kept from Izzie.
Clay had never seen Izzie look more downcast, not even after Martin’s death. Then, at least, she had wept. Now she stared like a woman in shock. He wanted to go to her, comfort her. The urge to do so was strong and unrelenting.
But he couldn’t.
Still his eyes found her often. Izzie did not look at him. She had her attention only on her disappearing herd.
Gabe arrived, and he and Kino spoke by the fence. His brothers did not help or speak to him as he did his job and they did theirs. Clay and the others went to work loading up the remaining eighteen-odd cows. But before Clay climbed back in the cab, Gabe pulled him aside.
“Grandma is worried about you,” he said.
“I’m all right.” But he wasn’t. His heart hurt for Izzie, and he felt as he had after the trial when the records were sealed because of his age. It would be better, they all said. But it wasn’t. In the vacuum of knowledge, folks had just made up their own stories, theories, speculation. Most were worse than what had actually happened. At least in the versions he had heard, he didn’t come out looking like a damned fool.
Which was worse—to look a criminal or a fool?
They’d be doing the same to Izzie soon. Her name would be linked either to drug activity on her land or bovine sickness. Which was worse?
The girl with the sterling reputation was about to take her first trip through the mud.
Clay should find some satisfaction in that. His reputation was the reason she’d cited for breaking them up. But Martin had had her parents snowed. They’d believed he was a gentleman. He hadn’t been. Still, you didn’t speak badly about the dead.
Gabe cleared his throat, and Clay returned his attention to his brother.
“Grandma says she wants you to come to supper tonight.”
“All right.”
Gabe turned to go, and Clay reached out, clasping his elbow, drawing him back.
“Any results from the state?”
Gabe glanced around as if seeing who might
“Don’t hitch your wagon to that horse, son. Right now, Izzie is in trouble, and she is trouble. Best keep your distance.”
When a friend was in trouble, wasn’t that when they needed you? Clay remembered when everyone he counted on had left him. But not his family. They had stuck.
A tribal police car passed them, pulling in front of their truck and leading them the rest of the way to the Nosie place.
Donner turned the wheel with a grunt, and they headed up Izzie’s drive. They passed a police unit parked by the fence. Pizarro pulled beside it, and Donner stopped in the drive.
Izzie stood before the gate. She had all the cattle in the lower pasture and waited by the fence, her face stoic and her posture erect. Clay’s heart hitched at the sight of her, alone with only one hired hand, Max Reyes, to help her. Must have taken them all morning to round them up.
“Any results on the blood work on her cows?” asked Clay.
“That’s between your brother, Gabe and the state. We just do as we’re told.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Come on. Jeez, I hate this part.”
He’d expected to see Gabe there, but it was Kino waiting in the squad car. He stepped out as Donner descended. Clay hung back with Kino as Donner and Izzie exchanged a few words. Donner handed over the order of collection.
He and the other two boys got to work. They didn’t need the horses or ATV. Just used their lariats to shoo the herd to the truck. Clay drove the first load in with his coworker, Roger Tolino, riding shotgun. Once they had them in the tribal quarantine area, they returned for the second load.
Izzie clutched the order of removal in her hand like a stress ball, watching in silence as they gathered her remaining cows. Beside her, her mother smoked a cigarette and focused her attention on Clay and the distance he kept from Izzie.
Clay had never seen Izzie look more downcast, not even after Martin’s death. Then, at least, she had wept. Now she stared like a woman in shock. He wanted to go to her, comfort her. The urge to do so was strong and unrelenting.
But he couldn’t.
Still his eyes found her often. Izzie did not look at him. She had her attention only on her disappearing herd.
Gabe arrived, and he and Kino spoke by the fence. His brothers did not help or speak to him as he did his job and they did theirs. Clay and the others went to work loading up the remaining eighteen-odd cows. But before Clay climbed back in the cab, Gabe pulled him aside.
“Grandma is worried about you,” he said.
“I’m all right.” But he wasn’t. His heart hurt for Izzie, and he felt as he had after the trial when the records were sealed because of his age. It would be better, they all said. But it wasn’t. In the vacuum of knowledge, folks had just made up their own stories, theories, speculation. Most were worse than what had actually happened. At least in the versions he had heard, he didn’t come out looking like a damned fool.
Which was worse—to look a criminal or a fool?
They’d be doing the same to Izzie soon. Her name would be linked either to drug activity on her land or bovine sickness. Which was worse?
The girl with the sterling reputation was about to take her first trip through the mud.
Clay should find some satisfaction in that. His reputation was the reason she’d cited for breaking them up. But Martin had had her parents snowed. They’d believed he was a gentleman. He hadn’t been. Still, you didn’t speak badly about the dead.
Gabe cleared his throat, and Clay returned his attention to his brother.
“Grandma says she wants you to come to supper tonight.”
“All right.”
Gabe turned to go, and Clay reached out, clasping his elbow, drawing him back.
“Any results from the state?”
Gabe glanced around as if seeing who might
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