Blood Land (19 page)

“Bethy never said a thing. Not in forty plus years,” he said to Ty.

“Ma wouldn’t have any of us talkin’ about family dealins.”

“I always thought Bethy’s problems were with the old man—with Rory.”

“Rory couldn’t shit without permission from his old lady,” Ty said lowly.

It hurt Pruett—hurt him deeply—that Bethy had not entrusted him with this secret. “Bethy said she went out there that night because Rory asked her to. She told me he wanted to make amends, have a family night again.”

“If Rory asked her it was because Honey said so.”

“How did things get so twisted up, Ty?”

“I take it that Delgado lady didn’t show you the balance sheets.”

“She never got the chance.”

“Twenty million dollars enough to twist things up for you?”

“Jesus.”

“The gas company found a pocket underneath the main ranch bigger’n the whole patch they’re drillin’ out west.”

“You ready to talk about what happened that night?”

“I figure to tell you the whole thing.”

“Then start talking.”

“Before I forget, you gotta get ahold a that
lockbox
,” Ty said.

“What lockbox?”

Dirk McIntyre scanned the bar for his brother. He found him at a thick, scarred pine table far in the back, half-hidden by shadow.

“Thanks for comin’,” Dirk said as he sat down.

“Was comin’ here regardless. You know that,” Ty said.

“Just the same,” Dirk said throwing his head back at Pearly Jo Milton, who was waiting tables. “A Bud,” he told her.

“What the fuck you want, Dirk?”

Ty was antsy. Full of fight. It was just one of those nights and all he wanted was to tie on a big one and kick the shit out of someone.

“Been talkin’ to some folks,” Dirk said. “Specifically, a lady at the courthouse. She don’t want her name getting’ out. But she wanted me to see some information on our property situation.”

“What property situation?” Ty said. “And for your information, you incredible dipshit, everyone in three counties knows you’ve been diddlin’ Juanita Pike for over a year. You know, the
Juanita Pike
who happens to work at the
courthouse
.”

“Everyone knows that?”

“Good God, brother, I never even
listen
to gossip, so if I know it…”

“Shit,” said Dirk. “Anyway, you’re gonna want to see what she gave me.”

“Hand it over,” Ty said and threw back a shot of Wild Turkey. The whiskey burned in his gut. A few more and he’d go and knock someone off a barstool. Maybe two.

“You promise Juanita’s name never gets in this thing.”

“Let me see it,” Ty snarled, waving for another shot. “Make it a double and make it two of ‘em.”

Dirk handed his brother the document, a copy of their grandfather’s will.

“Lawyer mumbo jumbo,” Ty said. Pearly Jo set down two double Turkeys and Ty threw the first one back without even taking his eyes off his brother.

“Look at page seventeen,” Dirk said. “Some fair-weather provision or whatnot.”

“Fairness provision,” Ty mumbled. “Least I can fuckin’
read
when I’m drunk.”

“I ain’t drunk. And yeah, that’s it. Says the minerals are for
all
of us, Ty.
All of us
, not just Pa and the others. Even me, and I ain’t got any land at all,” Dirk said.

“Even you…”

“Grandpa wanted us all to have a share, if money ever came the family’s way, I mean. What’re you thinkin’, Ty?”

“I’m thinkin’ no money came our way, now did it? I’m also thinkin’ family just don’t do
family
like this.” He swallowed the second double in one smooth motion, his eyes red like volcano fire. “Who else knows about this?”

“Juanita said Beulah Jorgensen. Because her name is on the document. And because nothin’ happens in this town without that bitch knowin’ somethin’ about it.”

“Beulah.”

“I think we should kill ‘em,” Dirk said. “Keep all the money for ourselves.”

“Can’t say I disagree,” said Ty. “But we gotta be smart about this.”

The two sat in silence, ordered more booze, and still said nothing for ten or fifteen minutes. Dirk was waiting on Ty. Ty was getting his drunk on.

He always thought better when he was drunk. Always fought better, too, but he knew he needed to go and get those papers—the original will and some BLM paperwork and maps—secured in his lockbox.

The next night the two of them met at Dirk’s place on the river. Ty told Pruett
that’s
when they formed a plan to take out the old man. Both of them knew that their mother was behind the whole swindle—that their father wouldn’t make any kind of move without her telling him to do it. But Dirk said killing the old man would send her a message. And at least they’d get their share then.

Later that night, at his own home, is when a bullet meant for Ty’s skull ended up in the plaster and dry wall of his living room instead of his brain. After the murderer fled, Ty got in his truck and tried to give chase. When he lost the taillights, he headed back to town; back to Dirk’s place.

“Wake up,” Ty yelled as he pounded on Dirk’s door.

Dirk opened the door and Ty barreled through.

“Fucker tried to
kill
me.”

“Who? When?”

“Our sweet old pappy. Tried to put a slug ‘n my head not one hour ago.”

“Shit.”

“Damn right
shit
. Who else did that bitch tell?”

“What bitch?”

“Juanita, God DAMN it, don’t fuck around with me, boy.”

“Shit, Ty…I don’t think she told anyone.”

“You don’t think. Since when anyone told you to
think
?”

“She’s good friends with the Drake woman.”

“
Maisy
Drake?”

“Yep.”

“Maisy Drake’s husband drinks pitchers every other night with Rance,” Ty said. He was seething. Juanita tells Maisy, Maisy tells her dipshit husband, husband spills the beans to their brother, Rance. It all made sense. Then it took his mother all of twenty-four hours to decide to have Ty killed instead.

Her own son.

“Why the fuck didn’t they come after you?” Ty said.

“W-what?”

“I said, they tried to
kill me.
How’d
you
get off scot-free?”

“Maybe you scare them more than I do.”

“Maybe.”

“Shit, Ty. Wasn’t me. I didn’t say nothin’. Not to no one. Not by a long shot.”

“Tomorrow night, then,” Ty said. “We finish it. Once Rory’s dead, they’ll all start singin’ a  different song. Even ma. She’ll see she was right to fear me.”

“So you both went there with murder on your minds?” Pruett said.

“Yep. But halfway there I got them willies we talked about.”

“And Dirk was all right with that?”

“Seemed to be. We got more liquored up by that rock, the one I said. I told him I was too drunk to shoot. He wanted to do it.”

“You couldn’t see who was on the porch,” Pruett said.

“Just that fucking
hat
. And the coat. From a distance, it looked like Rory had stepped onto the porch.”

“Dirk fired the shot.”

“He was too drunk to be firin’ any weapon,” Ty said, sorrow in his voice. “I shouldn’t a let him take that potshot.”

“You think Dirk told your old man about the plan, thinkin’ he could get a bigger piece of the pie with you out of the picture?”

“I think he told
Honey
.”

Pruett thought about that for a moment. “I think he told the BLM.”

Ty said nothing, but he flinched.

“You said you were going to tell me all of it,” Pruett told him. “
Tell it
.”

“I don’t know all of it,” Ty said as softly as Pruett had ever heard him speak. “That’s why I left that number for you to find. I knew the government was involved somehow. Dirk knew more. A lot fuckin’ more. That night in the bar, outta the blue he starts flappin’ his gums about this huge scam with the government, and how ma and pa was flat smack in the middle of it.”

“So how did the shooting go down?”

“Just like I said it did. I figured all that talk was bullshit. The night Bethy died, that happened just like I said. ‘Cept…”

“’Cept
what
?”

“Dirk had this cagey look on his face when we tore hell for the south entrance. All the way out to the highway, where we left his pickup. Like he was nervous ‘bout somethin’.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean he looked like the cat that ate the fucking canary. Like he was screwin’ up the courage for somethin’ but just couldn’t do it. Like he was too scared to follow through.”

“You think you know what that something was?”

“I think he was meant to plunk one in me when we got back to the highway and he yellowed up.”

“That means the shooting up at the ranch wasn’t any accident.”

Pruett decided it was time to pay a visit to Honey McIntyre. If she was at the head of the family, that meant she was the one dealing with the BLM. And Pruett needed to start putting the pieces together fast, or things were going to spiral out of his control.