“That lawsuit you showed me the other day. Watkins’s …?”
She nodded.
“I want you to dust it off and get it started again.”
“Nothing would make me happier.” Keeler’s eyes brightened. “However, it’s not mine to file. It will take one or more of the defendants to agree to it. Preferably Mr. Watkins, of course, as he’s the lead complainant.”
“I think you’ll have that within the day. What happens when you get the go-ahead?”
“We’ll file an immediate motion with the state. And have a copy delivered to RMM’s headquarters. To let them know they’re served.”
“That ought to stir the pot pretty well.”
“You see the papers today?”
“You mean about the buyout?”
Jen nodded soberly. “Then you know what a lawsuit like this now will do …?”
Hauck smiled. “I thought that’s exactly what you were trying to do, Ms. Keeler.”
That gleam in her eye, the one between skepticism and growing trust, became even brighter. “You know the farmers here, they’ve had a lot of false hopes in the past few years …”
“Get things rolling,” Hauck said. “I’d like that lawsuit in their hands as soon as you get the call.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
Hauck finally made the drive back out to Templeton and Watkins’s farm. There was a flurry of activity as Hauck drove up. The farmhands were bringing in some equipment, boarding up the windows, corralling the horses, as if a storm were coming in. He spotted Watkins in back, his arm in a sling, spreading out bales of hay from a small flatbed. They were building the bales up as possible cover.
“How’s the arm?” Hauck asked, as he went around the side.
Watkins stopped his truck. “Not as good as it would be if you hadn’t showed up the other day. The doc said it went clean through. Two of my hands decided to stick around. The others have family. I told them to go. I don’t know if they can shoot, but I figure, three is better than one, if it comes to that.”
“Four,” Hauck said. “And we can use every hand we can get. What do we have for weapons?”
Watkins climbed down and took Hauck inside. There was a locked wooden case on the wall. He pulled it open. Inside, there were four hunting rifles with scopes. A Remington hunting rifle with an illuminated scope. That was good. There was a Winchester pump-action shotgun that would be of use at close range, and Hauck hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
“Here, I owe you this.” Hauck took out the Colt 9 mm he had taken the other day.
“Hold on to it. Not exactly Fort Bragg …” the farmer said, “but I’ve bagged a few choice elk in my day with that Remington. And that shotgun’s not much fun for anyone within ten feet if it comes to it.”
Hauck checked the action and sights on the Remington. Good to three hundred yards.
“Listen, there’s something else going on.” Hauck told him where he went before Jen’s, to the DA. And about what had happened to Dani yesterday.
“I’m really sorry to hear that.” Watkins winced with a mixture of disgust and anger. “How is she?”
“She’s okay. She’s back at home. She actually wanted to come back up here.”
“Good kid,” the farmer said. “I’m sorry she got caught up in this.”
“She’s the one who put it all together. Without her, Trey’s death would still be just another accident. And RMM would just be another oil company on the news. I guess you heard?”
“I read the news.” Watkins nodded. “Anyway, I’m sorry she had to find Trey, though maybe that’s the way it was meant to be. Maybe we would have all been better off if she hadn’t.”
“I guess we’ll see.”
“So let me ask …” The farmer looked at him. “You back here because of me and the rest of us and RMM? Or you here because of what they did to your goddaughter?”
Hauck checked the action on the Remington. “Can I go for a little of both?”
“Well, I don’t care. Whichever it is,” the farmer said, “you’re here.”
It was almost dark when they got the defenses set, including the stacked bales of hay from behind which they could shoot. They punched out the window at the top of the barn, which afforded someone with a rifle a 180-degree perch. The old combine that Watkins used to harvest grain was revved up, the thrasher blades whirring. It could discourage someone from advancing on them.
Two of the farmhands were all that was left. They all had a dinner of chili and bread that Marie had thawed. Hauck sat up high in the barn, with the Remington, looking out over the road and fields. Some Mexican music was playing from the barn. Hauck knew enough Spanish to recognize it as a love song. And about death.
It seemed to fit.
It grew dark. This was when they would come. He heard footsteps on the stairs coming up in the barn. No one knew what to expect. There was a nervous feeling in the air.
The farmer stepped up to Hauck’s perch, holding the shotgun in his one good hand. “You sure they’ll actually come?”
“Once they hear Dani’s safe and that she’s willing to testify. And about your suit …” Hauck rolled over on his side and kept his eyes on the dark road. “My experience is that they always come.”
Watkins looked at him. “Just why are you back here, Mr. Hauck? The truth this time.”’
Hauck shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve tried to answer that myself a hundred times in the last few days. The best I can come up with is, there must be something about it I like.”
“Like?” Watkins shook his head. “You’re long on courage then. But I’m afraid it’ll make for a short career.”