Part 4
Walt’s thumb stopped against the back of the knife.
Eighteen thousand would clear the property taxes. It would pay for a proper tractor repair and leave money for hay, medicine, and winter fuel. At the kitchen table, Evelyn would have made a neat list, starting with whatever carried the worst penalty.
Kessler held the envelope at a comfortable height, as though he could wait all day.
“You’ve put time and care into the animal. Mr. Rusk recognizes that. The payment also buys your discretion.”
Walt folded the knife and slipped it into his pocket. He rose slowly because his knees would let him do it no other way.
“Keep your check.”
“You should think before answering.”
“I have.”
Kessler withdrew his hand a few inches.
“You spent two hundred dollars with a livestock dealer whose authority to sell is questionable. This is a valuable registered horse. You’re being offered a considerable return.”
“She stays.”
The lawyer looked past him at the peeling porch rail.
“Your finances don’t give you much room for a dispute, Mr. Dempsey. Delinquent taxes, mortgage information, liens. Those records are available to anyone.”
Walt put the whetstone on the step.
“Rusk sent you to count my bills?”
“He has attorneys who can file for the recovery of stolen property. A court can issue orders you’ll have to obey. And banks tend to become concerned when a borrower is involved in litigation over an asset of this value.”
The lawyer’s voice remained courteous. Walt could hear how often he must have used it without needing anything stronger.
He came down one step. Kessler stood his ground, though his shoulders drew back.
“I’ve waited beside a hospital bed,” Walt said. “You think a summons scares me?”
“The horse belongs to my client.”
“His insurer paid for a dead one.”
Kessler went still.
Walt watched the lawyer’s eyes move once toward the shed. He couldn’t see April from here, only the oak branches above the roof. She would be waiting for the evening pan soon.
“You’ve been given information you’re not qualified to interpret,” Kessler said.
“She’s alive. I can manage that part.”
The envelope disappeared into the overcoat.
“Let us take her today. Accept the money. Mr. Rusk is not someone you want making this difficult.”
Walt remembered Evelyn at a different kitchen table years ago, angry over an offer somebody had made for a strip of their land. Having less money, she’d said, didn’t mean they had to sit still for insults dressed up as opportunities.
He came down the last step.
“Ten seconds. Then I want you gone.”
Kessler stared at him. “Don’t turn this into something foolish.”
“One.”
“Mr. Dempsey, there are consequences—”
“Two.”
The lawyer glanced toward the screen door, then at Walt’s hands. The careful courtesy left his face.
“You’ll regret this.”
“Three.”
Kessler turned. He strode back to the vehicle, shut the door hard, and backed around the pickup so sharply that gravel struck the ditch bank. Walt stood in the yard until the engine noise had gone.
Then he went to April.
She raised her head when the latch lifted. He stepped inside and laid both hands along her neck. His fingers were trembling now. He pressed his forehead briefly against her mane, irritated with himself for letting the lawyer see him struggle to stand.
April leaned toward him, and he stayed until the trembling stopped.
By Monday, she was spending longer stretches outside. Walt had begun with ten minutes on dry, level ground, then added a little at a time as she tolerated it. That morning she’d been grazing nearly an hour beside the rail fence.
He stood at the gate with a thermos, listening to her crop the clover. Fog filled the low ground and hid the road. He could see the nearest fence posts clearly; beyond them, each one faded a little more.
Colored light flashed through the gray.
Walt put the thermos on a post. A sheriff’s cruiser rolled into the yard, followed by a pale sport utility vehicle. Before either door opened, he went into the pasture and clipped the cotton lead to April’s halter.
She looked up at him, still chewing.
“Stay close,” he said.
Sheriff Dennis Talbot came toward the gate, adjusting his hat. He had a gray mustache and the uncomfortable expression of a man who had rehearsed his opening on the drive over.
Duncan Rusk followed him.
Walt had seen Rusk at the county fair, shaking hands with commissioners while children waited beside their animals. Another time, outside the courthouse, a woman had held an umbrella over him as he climbed into a waiting vehicle. Now he crossed Walt’s yard in clean boots and an expensive quilted vest without looking at anything except April.
Her jaw stopped working.
“Walt,” the sheriff said. “I wish this hadn’t come to me this way.”
“Could’ve come alone.”
Talbot glanced at Rusk, then back.
“There’s a stolen-property complaint. Mr. Rusk says a mare was removed from his place and sold without permission. He’s supplied registration information.”
Rusk stepped closer to the gate.
“That’s her. You can check the chip and be done with it.”
Walt kept his hand loose around the rope.
“I have a receipt from the sale.”
“A receipt doesn’t make stolen property yours.” Rusk uncoiled a leather lead. A brass chain hung from the end, turning once in the weak light. “Confirm her identity, Sheriff. I’ll handle the animal.”
April moved before he reached the gate.
She threw herself backward, and the rope scraped hard across Walt’s palm. Her ears flattened. She tried to turn on the bad leg, stumbled sideways, and struck the fence with her hip.
Walt moved with her, giving her space without letting the rope tangle around his hand.
“Hold up, April. Hold up.”
Rusk kept advancing.
She snorted and tried to scramble farther away. The fence corner stopped her. Walt saw the white around her eyes and stepped between her and the man at the gate.
“Another step and she’ll hurt herself. Stop.”
Rusk halted, his mouth tightening.
“Obviously she’s been badly handled.”
Walt turned his back on him. April’s nostrils were wide and her breathing came fast. He placed a hand against her cheek, below the eye, where she could feel it without being crowded.
“Here,” he said. “You know me. Here.”
He stayed slightly to one side, giving her room to see him. Her head lowered a few inches. The rope trembled, then slackened.
She took a short step. Walt waited.
Another step brought her close enough to tuck her nose against his chest. He rested his hand along her face while she stood trembling behind his shoulder.
The sheriff watched without speaking.
Rusk snapped the leather lead straight between his hands.
“If she was stolen, she could have been abused anywhere afterward. You can’t infer anything from a frightened horse.”
Walt looked at him over April’s head.
“She remembers.”
“Remove him from her,” Rusk told the sheriff.
Talbot shifted beside the gate. “Walt, if the chip matches his registration, I can’t dismiss the complaint just because you bought her. We have to establish who had the right to sell.”
“Ask who had the right to collect on her death.”
The sheriff turned toward Rusk.
“My attorney has already explained the recording error,” Rusk said. “Mr. Dempsey has decided to make accusations instead of cooperating.”
“Your recording error was hungry.”
“Enough.” Rusk pointed at Walt. “He’s holding stolen property. Arrest him.”
Talbot’s hand moved toward the handcuffs on his belt…
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