Read Online The Terror of Living by Urban Waite - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Urban Waite
Tags: Fiction, Suspense, Thrillers, Suspense fiction, Crime, Drug traffic, Sheriffs, Drug Dealers, Wilderness Areas, Wilderness Areas - Washington (State)
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trying to find out something about them, find out something for myself."
"About your father?"
Drake didn't turn to look at her. He kept his eyes at the window and didn't say anything. After a moment passed, after the yellow emergency lights spun several times across his face, he said, "I don't know. I didn't know my father was involved in all that, and then
I'm getting notified all about his smuggling down in Arizona. Most of it I had to read in the newspapers. I still don't know what type of man my father is, not now, not then."
"You know you don't have to make up for him," Sheri said.
Drake turned away from the window and walked over to the bed. He felt restless. He'd been up all day answering questions for Driscoll. Getting settled into the hotel room. He'd taken nothing more than a thirty-minute nap before Sheri had shown up with all her questions. "I know I don't have to make up for him," Drake said. "But somehow-no matter what I say-I always am."
WHEN HE WOKE IN THE MORNING, NORA WASN'T THERE. The clock showed it was a quarter to eight. From the window he could see the horses had been let into the field and Nora was down there in a pair of jeans and a thick work shirt, setting hay out in the paddock. He dressed and went downstairs, where he could hear Eddie's uneven breathing from the living room couch.
Out the back he watched Nora raise the hay and then let it out in a rough tumble onto the ground. They were barely breaking even, between feed and the mortgage on the place. He'd had no way of saying no to what Eddie offered. Quarter horses and stallions out there that cost more than his house, more than his whole operation. From the hook near the door he took the boat keys and stuffed them into his pocket. He was dressed warmly, in a sweatshirt and jeans, white tennis shoes for traction on the boat.
Nora looked up when he stepped outside, but then she went back to her work. He went over to the fence and put his arms over it and stood watching her.
He waited. Nora ignored him, not looking up from her work. He thought about how none of these horses were his. Every one of them belonged to someone else. The two they had owned - raised from foals-had been lost in the mountains. They were gone. No brandings or mark to tell the law whom they belonged to. He felt their loss as he looked out on the field where they should have been, standing out there in the grass among the others. He knew these horses meant too much to him. Knew he shouldn't get hung up on them. He thought of them like children, like people. Sometimes he knew he placed them over people, understood them better, their habits, their needs. The two horses were gone and there was nothing he could do or say to bring them back.
One was dead, he knew this, shot through the head. He couldn't say what had happened to the other, the one the kid had been riding. Now gone, might as well have been dead for all he knew, but he hoped she wasn't.
"Nora," he said. She wouldn't look at him. He waited another moment, thinking the situation over. He didn't have much time. "I've got to go."
She put down the pitchfork she'd been working with and walked toward him. The horses out there with their piles of hay. Several golden piles to choose from and the six remaining horses standing there. He watched one of the stronger horses, a big brown, turn and regard him. This could be it, he thought, this could be all there is and it might be over.
Nora came to the fence and took off her gloves. It was early and the mist climbed off the field as the sun came on. She put her hand on his forearm, and he could feel the sweat and the warmth from her hand come onto him. "I didn't mean to call you selfish last night,"
Nora said. She looked away, back to where she'd been with the horses. "I'm just angry, that's all. It all just makes me so
"About your father?"
Drake didn't turn to look at her. He kept his eyes at the window and didn't say anything. After a moment passed, after the yellow emergency lights spun several times across his face, he said, "I don't know. I didn't know my father was involved in all that, and then
I'm getting notified all about his smuggling down in Arizona. Most of it I had to read in the newspapers. I still don't know what type of man my father is, not now, not then."
"You know you don't have to make up for him," Sheri said.
Drake turned away from the window and walked over to the bed. He felt restless. He'd been up all day answering questions for Driscoll. Getting settled into the hotel room. He'd taken nothing more than a thirty-minute nap before Sheri had shown up with all her questions. "I know I don't have to make up for him," Drake said. "But somehow-no matter what I say-I always am."
WHEN HE WOKE IN THE MORNING, NORA WASN'T THERE. The clock showed it was a quarter to eight. From the window he could see the horses had been let into the field and Nora was down there in a pair of jeans and a thick work shirt, setting hay out in the paddock. He dressed and went downstairs, where he could hear Eddie's uneven breathing from the living room couch.
Out the back he watched Nora raise the hay and then let it out in a rough tumble onto the ground. They were barely breaking even, between feed and the mortgage on the place. He'd had no way of saying no to what Eddie offered. Quarter horses and stallions out there that cost more than his house, more than his whole operation. From the hook near the door he took the boat keys and stuffed them into his pocket. He was dressed warmly, in a sweatshirt and jeans, white tennis shoes for traction on the boat.
Nora looked up when he stepped outside, but then she went back to her work. He went over to the fence and put his arms over it and stood watching her.
He waited. Nora ignored him, not looking up from her work. He thought about how none of these horses were his. Every one of them belonged to someone else. The two they had owned - raised from foals-had been lost in the mountains. They were gone. No brandings or mark to tell the law whom they belonged to. He felt their loss as he looked out on the field where they should have been, standing out there in the grass among the others. He knew these horses meant too much to him. Knew he shouldn't get hung up on them. He thought of them like children, like people. Sometimes he knew he placed them over people, understood them better, their habits, their needs. The two horses were gone and there was nothing he could do or say to bring them back.
One was dead, he knew this, shot through the head. He couldn't say what had happened to the other, the one the kid had been riding. Now gone, might as well have been dead for all he knew, but he hoped she wasn't.
"Nora," he said. She wouldn't look at him. He waited another moment, thinking the situation over. He didn't have much time. "I've got to go."
She put down the pitchfork she'd been working with and walked toward him. The horses out there with their piles of hay. Several golden piles to choose from and the six remaining horses standing there. He watched one of the stronger horses, a big brown, turn and regard him. This could be it, he thought, this could be all there is and it might be over.
Nora came to the fence and took off her gloves. It was early and the mist climbed off the field as the sun came on. She put her hand on his forearm, and he could feel the sweat and the warmth from her hand come onto him. "I didn't mean to call you selfish last night,"
Nora said. She looked away, back to where she'd been with the horses. "I'm just angry, that's all. It all just makes me so
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