In Plain Sight

“The hell he won’t,” Rulon said, smacking his palm against the tabletop. “I’m the governor. He will do what I tell him, or he’ll have his résumé out in five states.”

Joe knew how state government worked. This wasn’t how.

“Without portfolio,” Joe said, repeating the phrases. “Not your official representative. But I am.”

“Now you’re getting it,” the governor said, encouraging Joe. “And that means if you screw up and get yourself in trouble, as you are fully capable of doing based on your history, I’ll deny to my grave this meeting took place.”

Chuck Ward broke in. “Governor, I feel it’s my responsibility, once again, to advise against this.”

“Your opinion, Chuck, would be noted in the minutes if we had any, but we don’t,” Rulon said in a tone that suggested to Joe that the two of them had similar disagreements as a matter of routine.

The governor turned back to Joe. “You’re going to ask me why, and why you, when I have a whole government full of bodies to choose from.”

“I was going to ask you that.”

“All I can say is that it’s a hunch. But I’m known for my good hunches. I’ve followed your career, Joe, even before I got elected. You seem to have a natural inclination to get yourself square into the middle of situations a normal thinking person would avoid. I’d say it’s a gift if it wasn’t so damned dangerous at times. Your wife would probably concur.”

Joe nodded in silent agreement.

“I think you’ve got integrity. You showed me that when you said you’d arrest me. You seem to be able to think for yourself—a rare trait, and one that I share—no matter what the policy is or conventional wisdom dictates. As I know, that’s either a good quality or a fatal flaw. It got me elected governor of this great state, and it got you fired.

“But you have a way of getting to the bottom of things, is what I see. Just ask the Scarlett brothers.” He raised his eyebrows and said, “No, don’t. They’re all dead.”

Joe felt like he’d been slapped. He’d been there when the brothers turned against each other and went to war. And he’d performed an act that was the source of such black shame in him he still couldn’t think about it. In his mind, the months of feeding cattle, fixing fence, and overseeing Bud Jr. weren’t even close to penance for what he’d done. And it had nothing to do with why he’d been fired.

“When I think of crime committed out of doors, I think of Joe Pickett,” Rulon said. “Simple as that.”

Joe’s face felt hot. Everything the governor said seemed to have dual meanings. He couldn’t be sure if he was being praised or accused, or both.

“I don’t know what to say.”

Rulon smiled knowingly. “Yes you do. You want to say YES! You want to shout it out!” He leaned back in his chair and dropped his voice an octave. “But you need to talk to Marybeth. And Bud Longbrake needs to hire a new ranch foreman.”

“I do need to talk to Marybeth,” Joe said lamely.

“Of course. But let me know by tonight so we can notify Mr. Pope and get this show on the road. Take the file, read it. Then call with your acceptance.”

Ward tapped his wrist. “Governor . . .”

“I know,” Rulon said, standing and shoving papers into his briefcase. “I know.”

Joe used the arms of his chair to push himself to his feet. His legs were shaky.

“Tell the pilot we’re ready,” Rulon said to Ward. “We need to get going.”

Ward hustled out of the room, followed by Governor Rulon.

“Governor,” Joe called after him. Rulon hesitated at the doorway.

“I may need some help in the park,” Joe said, thinking of Nate Romanowski.

“Do what you need to do,” Rulon said sharply. “Don’t ask me for permission. You’re not working for me. I can’t even remember who you are. You’re fading from my mind even as we speak. How can I possibly keep track of every state employee?”

Outside, the engines of the plane began to wind up.

“Call me,” the governor said.