“Just tell your boys in the woods to come on out, and let the man know we’re coming up.”
Mike smiled wide, showing off a mouth full of straight but yellowed teeth. “Your brother knew you were coming twenty minutes back.” He spat again, then stood up and whistled—two sharp chirps. At least a dozen men, armed with everything from assault rifles to shotguns, shuffled out of the trees like ants from a mound that just got stepped on. Darby sank deeper and lower into his seat and gripped the armrest hard enough to push the blood from his knuckles.
Mike laughed a deep belly laugh. “Tell your fearless deputy there not to be so jumpy. If Hal wanted him dead, we’d have done did it by now.”
“He’ll be fine,” Clayton said.
“You sure you wanna do this, Clayton? He ain’t real fond of you, these days.”
“He ain’t never been real fond of me.”
“Well, it’s a little worse now, since the funeral and all.”
“Hal needs to realize that I lost a brother, too.”
“It was the uniform, I think, that set him off.”
Clayton shook his head. “Hal’s drinking and acting like an ass was a lot more disrespectful than my dress uniform.”
“He don’t see it that way.”
“I don’t give a shit how he sees it.”
“All the more reason for me askin’, Clayton. You sure you want to go up there?”
“I’ll be fine, Mike.”
Mike narrowed his eyes at Clayton like he was trying to read something written on the sheriff’s forehead, then pushed himself back off the truck. “Let them through,” he yelled to the posse of gunmen up the road. They cleared a path for Clayton, and he put the Bronco back in gear. He looked out at Mike again and tipped his hat.
“Good to see you, Mike.”
“Yup. Yup.”
As the sheriff and his deputy rolled past the gathering of hard stares, dirty faces, and loaded weapons, Darby closed his eyes and got reacquainted with the Lord.
3.
“Jeez-us, Sheriff. This is bad. I just know it. You’re family to these people, but they could care less about me. Your brother will kill me just for being dressed like this.” He pulled at the deputy’s star pinned to his chest.
“Nobody is getting killed, Darby. He’s not as crazy as everyone says. It’s just what he wants people to think. It’s how he keeps people doing what he wants them to do. My deddy was the same way. Besides, he’ll be too busy with me to worry about you. Just stay in the car, and you’ll be fine.”
“Whatever you say, Sheriff, but I’m still not feeling good about it.”
The road opened up into a vast expanse of red dirt and pea gravel. Clayton counted at least ten more armed men watching as they approached, but with their guns pointed down. A few others too twitchy and haggard to be employees wandered about the yard and hovered around the corner of the house near the rain barrel. Clayton assumed they were local tweekers looking to score. There was a time when Halford would never have allowed scrounge like them anywhere near his home. He was getting either soft or sloppy. Either one was a good sign he might be open to a conversation like the one Clayton was there to bring him.