End Times (19 page)

Floyd paused, the pen a millimeter above the page. “I believe I would,” he said. “It sure is hot out there, isn’t it?” He turned to the Varleys for confirmation, but all they could do was nod icily, eyes glittering with frustration.

Daphne’s hand trembled as she rushed to Floyd’s side. She bent to pour him the lemonade and whispered the only words she could think of in his ear: “Can we talk before you sign that?”

Floyd drew back, surprised. “Why, sure,” he said out loud. “Now?”

Daphne flushed. She wished the exchange could have been subtler, but it was the best she could do with the Varleys and their lawyer sitting two feet away. She nodded.

Floyd got to his feet, looking befuddled. “Excuse me,” he said. “I need to have a quick word with my family.”

Deirdre’s smile crumbled, and Vince let out a long exhalation that sounded like the hiss of air escaping a leaky tire. Daphne ignored them as she led the way to the master bedroom at the back of the trailer, Floyd and Karen behind her and a grunting Janie taking up the rear.

“What’s this all about?” Floyd asked when they’d closed the door, one bushy eyebrow cocked.

Daphne looked at Karen, hoping she’d take the lead, but her aunt simply sank onto the bed and sighed.

“Daphne?” Floyd turned to her.

“I think you should have a lawyer look that over before you sign.” The words tumbled out of her in a harsh whisper—the walls in the trailer were thin, and the Varleys had already heard enough. “You have no idea what’s really in that contract, and it’s not like they’re going to give you the whole story.”

“Oh, I don’t know about all that.” Floyd’s eyebrows drew together in a fluffy V. “I made them a fair offer, and you know how Vince is—he just likes to dot all his
i
’s.”

“And
you
should, too,” Daphne urged. “Get a lawyer of your own.”

Floyd looked troubled. “Vince and I go way back,” he said. “I know he wouldn’t try to cheat me. He’s owed this, really—if it weren’t for his grandfather’s gift, none of this would have happened.”

Daphne couldn’t shake the feeling that the Varleys had something up their sleeve—the looks in their eyes were too eager, too hungry, too calculating. But Floyd seemed determined to think only the best of everyone. An old proverb tugged at her memory, something about the world being the mirror to the soul. What if Floyd was right, and she only saw the evil in the Varleys because she was a bad person herself?

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t sign it,” she said. “I just think you should have a lawyer look at it first. He can actually tell you what all those pages really mean, and negotiate to make sure everything is fair on your end.”

She noticed them looking at her strangely, probably wondering how she knew so much. “I used to watch a lot of
Law and Order
,” she added quickly.

“Oh, Floyd, why don’t you at least sleep on it?” Karen broke in. She’d twisted the hem of her sweatshirt between her fingers like a balloon animal, and the worry lines in her face were deep. She’d known the Varleys as long as Floyd had, and Daphne wondered if she knew something about them that Floyd didn’t, or saw something he simply didn’t want to see.

Floyd seemed to notice his wife’s concern for the first time. “Is this really troubling you?” he asked.

“Yes.” Karen gave her sweatshirt another twist. “I don’t know what it is, but something about this just gives me a funny feeling. I wish you wouldn’t go rushing into things.”

“Then I’ll sleep on it.” Floyd kissed the top of her head, and Karen’s fingers relaxed.

“You’ll have to work on me to hire a lawyer of my own, though,” he continued. “I like to think I can make my own deals.”

He opened the door and started back toward the living room, Janie behind him. In the narrow hallway, Karen squeezed Daphne’s hand.

“Thank you,” she whispered in her ear. “At least it’s a start.”

“Happy to help,” she whispered back.

• • •

THE Varleys had been having a hushed conversation of their own. They quieted as soon as Floyd entered the room, staring up at him expectantly.

“Get everything cleared up?” Elbert Benton’s voice was mild, but there was a steel rod running through its center.

“Yes, well, y’see . . .” Floyd scratched his chin, where salt-and-pepper stubble had sprouted since his last shave. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to sit with this a spell.” He tapped the contract, which sat open on the coffee table, the pen resting on top of the dotted line. “I’ll read it over tonight and have an answer for you tomorrow.”

“Now, Floyd,” Vince began.

His lawyer shushed him with a look. “Of course,” he said, standing abruptly. “Take all the time you need.”

Daphne noticed Deirdre shoot the lawyer daggers from beneath her pencil-thin eyebrows, but Elbert Benton ignored her. “Here’s my card.” He produced a silver box from his breast pocket and offered Floyd a cream-colored square of paper. “Don’t hesitate to call me if you have any questions.”

“Well, thanks.” Floyd turned it over in his hands as the Varleys stood and gathered their things. “Thanks for stopping by. Vince and Deirdre, it was good to see you, as always.”

“The pleasure was ours,” Deirdre said tightly. They were nearly out the door when Vince turned, one hand on the knob. Heat shimmered around him like a nest of translucent snakes.

“Don’t forget, Floyd: You’re a man of your word.”

He turned and shut the door forcefully behind him, and they were gone.

• • •

THE air outside the Peytons’ trailer had gotten hotter; the Buick’s door felt like a frying pan left too long on a hot stove top.

“He was about to sign,” Vince muttered, buckling his seatbelt with a vicious click.

“Well, what do you expect from the Peytons?” Deirdre sniffed. “They’re being selfish, like the trash they are.”

“It’s that girl.” Vince backed out quickly, honking long and loud at a slow-moving water truck. All that money under their feet, and he’d be lucky if he got to see a pretty penny of it. “He was about to sign, and she put a bug in his ear. I saw her do it.”

“If I may,” Elbert interjected. He was the best idea Vince had ever had, a real city lawyer from Laramie who specialized in partnerships and contracts. “From here on out, we need to be strategic. Let’s assume that Mr. Peyton reads that contract—”

“Big assumption,” Vince snorted. In all the time he’d known him, Floyd had hardly been one to crack a book.

“Or, worst-case scenario, he hires a lawyer.” Elbert’s eyes sparked behind his thin-rimmed glasses. He actually seemed to like this stuff, this endless speculating game of cat and mouse. Vince didn’t care one way or the other, as long as he was always the cat.

“Any lawyer worth his salt would kill that contract on the spot,” Elbert continued. “It’s full of traps and skews grossly in your favor. Then I’ll have to negotiate, which will take months, possibly years. If that’s the case, you’ll be lucky to end up with ten percent, let alone fifty.”

“
Years
?” Deirdre shrieked from the backseat. “To only get ten percent? We can’t afford that—we’ve already borrowed over a million to build our chateau!”

Elbert ignored her. “Our other option is to put together a lawsuit.”

Vince nodded. He liked the sound of that. “Tell me more.”

Elbert’s face took on the sheen of a freshly minted penny. “It’s risky, of course, but with a good lawyer, anything is possible. If I do my job correctly—and, Mr. Varley, I always do—you may get the lion’s share of this oil fortune.”

“That’s the first good news I’ve heard all day,” Vince grunted.

“Of course, we’ll need to be vigilant,” Elbert continued. “You say the bun in that young lady’s oven is a Varley?”

“It’s my son’s,” Vince confirmed bitterly. He’d warned Doug time and again to be careful with the girls—he’d wanted more for him than a life like his own, stuck in Carbon County as a young dad while big, exciting things happened out there in the rest of the world. That it had been dumb, busty Janie Peyton who ensnared his only son, with her cubic zirconium crucifix and pious belief that God Himself wanted her to have the child, had been the bitter icing on the cake. Until now.

“I’d recommend making that relationship official as soon as possible,” Elbert said. “The closer your family is to the Peytons, the easier this will be.”

“And by official, you mean . . . ?” Deirdre let the question float free in the Buick’s chilled air. Vince knew that she knew what Elbert meant, and he wasn’t sure he liked it any more than she did. Carbon County wasn’t a wealthy town, but some folks did a little better than others. The Peytons had always been poor as dirt, and that trailer of theirs with the rotting auto parts and rusted lawn chairs scattered around their sorry excuse for a yard was the eyesore of the town.

But things had changed. White trash had struck black gold, and now they were Carbon County royalty. Whatever happened in the past, all the Varleys could do now was try to accept it—and, more importantly, cash in.

He met his wife’s eyes in the rearview mirror. They were saucer-wide, her lashes trembling with shock.

“Deirdre,” he said, striving to keep his voice firm. “It’s time for you to take Doug ring shopping.”

ON the pullout sofa in the Peytons’ living room, Daphne’s eyes snapped open. The trailer was still shrouded in milky darkness, the furniture quiet black shapes. But someone was there, tiptoeing around, making the floor vibrate almost imperceptibly.

She shot upright, instinctively curling her hands into fists, ready to fight off the intruder. The cold fear of memory gripped her throat, reminding her of the times Jim had managed to jimmy the cheap lock on her bedroom door and creep in while she was sleeping.

“Who’s there?” she whispered.

“Shhh.” The voice came from the kitchen. She whipped her head around.

“It’s me—Uncle Floyd.”

Her shoulders untensed as her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. She made out his outline, sitting over a bowl of cereal at the kitchen’s banquette, hair still damp from his shower.

“What time is it?” she asked.

“It’s early. Go back to sleep. I can go eat outside.”

“It’s okay.” The adrenaline hadn’t stopped surging through her veins, and sleep was a distant dream. She padded over to him, helping herself to a bowl of Froot Loops.

“Why are you up so early?” She pushed the cereal down with her spoon, soaking it in milk before bringing it to her mouth. The sudden sugar rush erased the last of slumber’s dryness from her tongue.

He shrugged sheepishly. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“Is it the contract?” She tried to make out his eyes in the dimness.

He sighed. “That’s part of it. Vince has that lawyer calling me up just about every day—and, to be honest, I can’t make head or tails of all that legalese. It’s like a whole other language.”

“That’s why you need a lawyer of your own,” Daphne insisted. “To tell you if it’s fair.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s fair.” Floyd looked uncomfortable. “I’m being plenty generous—why would Vince want to cheat me? But that’s not the main reason I’m up.” He seemed eager to change the subject. “Mostly, I was just too excited about the day ahead of us to sleep.”

Of course. It was marked on the calendar in the admin shed with a big red
X
, the day they were to start extracting oil. “I guess it’s a pretty big deal, huh?” she said.

“The biggest day of my life, since Janie was born.” He leaned forward, elbows digging into the linoleum tabletop. “Daphne, I know things’ve been busy around here lately, and we haven’t really had a chance to sit down and have a proper talk, just you and me.”

“It’s all right.” Her cereal was dissolving, leaving swirls of pink and green in the milk. “We’ve both been busy with the rig.”

“Well, see, that’s the thing.” Uncle Floyd ran his hand self-consciously through his hair. “I feel like I haven’t thanked you properly. There wouldn’t even
be
a rig if it weren’t for you.”

“That’s not true . . .” Daphne began. But Floyd hurried over her words, anxious to let his thoughts spill onto the table.

“There’s something special about you, Daphne, something . . .
chosen
. Everything changed the day you came to stay—first there were those trumpets, and then you led us to this blessed gift, this oil. It’s not just me whose life this is going to change: It’s everyone in this town. You don’t know how much we needed this.”

His eyes were intense in the weak blue light from the kitchen window. Daphne shook her head. He had it all wrong. She’d killed a man and covered it up so the Peytons would take her in. She wasn’t a blessing. If anything, she was a curse.

“Let me tell you something about Carbon County.” Floyd sat back on the banquette and crossed his arms. “Before you showed up, our town budget was half a million dollars in the red. We were going to have to close the school, lay off those poor hardworking teachers, and bus all the kids to Rawlins. Our septic system wasn’t up to code, but there was no money to fix it. Carbon County needed this oil like a dying man needs water, and we found it because of you.”