Durant Days

Chapter 2

A/N So, this is flowing slowly like warm maple syrup right now…other, totally awesome and darker stories out there from some of the heavy hitters make this seem like fluff, but must keep writing…

She woke fuzzy-tongued on the cot in the jail, but to the luscious aroma of coffee. After Walt's precipitate departure from the meadow, she had not been either able to get comfortable or sleep in the truck. She had finally relinquished her impromptu bed and taken herself back to the station, indulged in the shower she'd been craving, and collapsed on the cot in exhaustion. No one had been there, Lucian having the rollover calls that night, and the silent surroundings felt like the comfort of old friends.

She put a tentative tongue between her teeth, trying to wake up and making her initial shittiness assessment for the day to come, but the coffee smell was still really strong and enticing. She cracked one eye open, to see Walt sitting silently watching her, with his boots propped against the cell bars one of the vintage straight wood chairs borrowed from the reception area, sipping from his chipped Broncos mug. With her trained observer's eye, she noticed that the cell door was closed. She never closed it, never wanted to accidentally get locked in from aged hardware. How embarrassing would that be!

"Why is the door closed?" she asked, her voice sounding rusty from disuse. She cleared her throat, trying to banish the cobwebs of sleep from it.

"After last night, thought it might be prudent, especially if that was you and you weren't drinking."

"Ha-ha, very fucking funny. I do owe you an apology."

The boots came down and he placed the mug on the floor. He disappeared for a couple of minutes, returning with the flyers mug no doubt sweetened to her taste. He did know her preferences in her coffee.

"Is it safe to come in, or will I get my head bit off?"

She made a noise through her nose. "I'm sorry."

"No," he said, clearing his own throat, swinging the door open and handing her the doctored Philly Flyers mug, "that would be me. I've kept you and Ferg running on fumes for months, now, trying to keep all the balls in the air without Branch."

"You didn't know," she said in a low voice, "that it would take this fucking long, that he was so…damaged, and need so much therapy."

Walt shrugged. "There is also that he committed crimes while he was so…damaged. The county is still paying him to keep his insurance in force, to cover his treatment. You and Sam Poteet didn't press charges, Travis is willing to drop any charges, but the filling station is not. Once his treatment is done, he will have to answer for them."

She looked up from her mug in surprise. "Can't Barlow afford it, or make it right with the gas station? I mean, Branch did have a pretty good not right thing going on, there."

Walt's face hardened. "Barlow has refused to offer any help. Disowned him."

She made a face of disbelief. "Disowned his own son?"

"Worse. Says Branch is, well, in Lucian's terms, 'crazy as a waltzing piss-ant."

"Why would he do that?" She had not heard any of this, no wonder Walt had been unable to progress on the Jacob case or anything else the last few months. The frustration must be overwhelming. "I mean, just two years ago, he backed him to take your job. Doesn't that kind of make him a hypocrite?"

"I don't know, unless like before, although when Branch wasn't quite right, he was still right about Ridges. Maybe he's right about something else. It's one of the things I've been wrestling with. I've missed you, Vic. I, ah, need you as a sounding board. As a friend. I figured I drove you away after I told you about Jacob. Why you've been scheduling shifts opposite me. Why you won't talk to me."

She didn't answer. It had profoundly affected her trust, if not making her question her judgment in Walt as a trusted partner, as the real man she had always admired, and even more, about men in general.

"So, this morning, I've been on the horn with Jim Wilkins. He's going to loan us a few new hires for a couple of months for 'seasoning.' We train 'em, and Cumberland will pay for them to assist us."

She perked up a bit at that. "Nice move," she said, slipping into professional mode, "but how do we house them?"

"And…that depends on this morning's agenda, two-fold."

"Okay…" she said, not understanding, and thinking she might not like it when she did. Maybe he planned to house her with the new guys in a dorm or something. She was way past wanting to be a dorm-mom to green recruits.

Then Ferg called out "Mornin'!" from the reception area, and Walt grinned.

"That would be the agenda. First, we eat. I promised Dorothy yesterday I'd feed you up. She said you've been looking a little 'peaky,' that was Dorothy's word for it."

She made a face. "It can't be surprising if I've been off my feed a little. It's post-divorce stress or something. I'm just tired."

"Second, you come with Henry and me and we find you a place for the here and now."

"Walt—like I tried to tell you last night, it's not your—"

"While you're working for me and here in Durant, it is my business. If your performance becomes sub-par, it drags us all down, you could get injured or killed, or get someone else injured or killed." He twisted his lips, "Or worse, your language makes my constituents run for the hills."

What's this about a place, you guys suddenly real estate barons or something?" she asked, but salivating over the aroma of biscuits and gravy which accompanied the Ferg, who handed her a styrofoam box, fork and napkin from within the bag he carried. He dutifully handed the other to Walt.

"Nope, but we each have a vacant place. You should've asked. You don't have to carry it all yourself, Vic. You have friends here."

"Oh." She suddenly felt very small, but equally as warmed by his pronouncement. At one time, before the Nighthorse debacle, she had thought Walt was her only friend, but remained wary, because men friends in her past had always turned into Eds or Seans.

She had never had many friends, especially women friends. Her mouth and her profession had dictated that, even in Philly. Here, the women seemed to mostly fear her as a ticketing arm of the Law, maybe with the exception of Ruby. She of all people seemed to know that The Terror was more than mouth and bluster. Maybe Ferg was beginning to come in a distant third in the friend department.

But Walt was offering to help, and maybe she should consider it. Suddenly hungry, she sighed, opened the box, inhaled the savory aroma, and dug in.

XXX

"What is this place, Walt?" she asked. Henry followed them in, seeming to eye the interior with a note of professional interest. The house was an older craftsman two-story near downtown Durant, and apparently had several bedrooms on the second floor.

"This is where I lived for over twenty years with Martha and Cady."

She inhaled sharply. She did want a place, but not one that had so many memories for him. She did not want to be one of this house's memories.

"Wait, wait, wait…wait. I don't want to see any more."

Walt turned in surprise. "No? No one lives here, now. Henry's been after me to remodel it so I can rent it out for more. I figure it'll be steady retirement income, or I'll sell it if I'm tired of land-lording after a while."

She inhaled sharply. Retirement. He was thinking of retirement, she about career advancement. Sometimes, they were on such different wavelengths.

"If Vic does not want it, Walt, then your loaner deputies could live here while we figure out the remodel. It does have three bedrooms."

Walt nodded, watching her. "Vic?"

Her eyes met his. She bit her lip and shook her head no. "Thank you, though."

He jerked his head toward to the door.

"Let's move on, then."

Henry insisted they make the drive in Rezdawg about fifteen minutes out of town, not quite to either the Pony's or Walt's turnoff. They left the main road and negotiated what was little more than a dirt track about a mile toward a long stand of trees, mixed cottonwoods and conifers. Rezdawg wheezed, moaned and bumped over the ruts.

"It will not be a fun drive in winter, but you do have the all-wheel drive truck," Henry observed. The weather had favored them that day, sunny and cloudless so far.

They pulled up in front of what appeared to be cabins set back in the trees, a whole row of them, spaced apart for privacy.

"It used to be Shady Creek Cottages," said Henry fondly. "I am trying to think of a suitable renaming, have cut back some of the growth and made improvements to a number of them to bring them into the twenty-first century.

"You own all these?" she asked Henry in surprise.

"I do. I acquired them a few years back when the owners moved to sunnier climes, and made me an offer I could not refuse. I have been remodeling mostly during the milder weather as my budget and time allows. I am somewhat behind due to my, ah…inactivity this year…" and Vic knew he was referring to the ankle bracelet he had worn during the summer.

She took them in, strangely charmed by the older units. They were all tiny cabins, very rustic, very pretty. A little like dollhouses. A rushing noise was faint in the distance.

"Near the water?" she asked hopefully. She had learned over the years she always slept soundly to the sound of moving water. What a luxury that would be!

"Just down a short winding path of the sizeable bank is a tributary of Clear Creek. These are outside the flood plain, or I would not have considered them. Here we boast some of the best fly-fishing in Wyoming, or Montana, for that matter. I rent them out seasonally to the tourists. Your neighbors will come and go if you choose the one I have available."

She shrugged. That wouldn't really matter. Henry pulled Rezdawg in front of what appeared to be a tiny alpine chalet.

"It's sort of a Walt cabin mini-me," she said, entranced. Walt chuckled at her description.

"How much?"

"Let us look at it, first, to see if it will suit."

So they piled out and poked and peered through it. There was not a whole lot of house to see. It was a tiny seasonal cottage, living and kitchen on the main floor with a wood stove in the middle, and a ladder to a loft bed. It wasn't a full height bedroom, just a mattress in an area about five feet high. Henry climbed up, crawled to the back, and swung out a window behind the bed area.

"My favorite feature," he said, with a smile. From where she stood below, she could hear the rushing water much closer. "Your personal noise machine."

She followed Walt as he poked around the kitchen. It was tiny, but fully equipped, even with a dishwasher, and all stainless steel. "You've done a nice job with this, Henry," he said.

Henry, who had climbed down from the loft, smiled.

"I am more proud of this," he proclaimed, and swung open the door to the left of the kitchen. It was set under the loft, but a hidden jewel in the rustic setting, a surprisingly large bathroom, complete with separate shower and tub, marble floor, and completely updated fixtures. At the back, the room ended in what looked like a closet.

"A tankless water heater and forced air heat, Vic, so I have made it more than seasonal. It will be warm in the winter, fireplace, stove, or not. I am doing that with all the cabins, with the future in mind."

Vic felt her mouth go to an 'O' which remained for a while…the bathroom was beautiful, and beyond expectation.

"Okay," she said finally, "So how much, really? If you rent to tourists…"

"Sleep sofa will sleep two," Henry said. "Next year I may add on a proper bedroom, and make that a loft for children. It will bring in much more, then."

"How much?" she persisted.

"Well, this small, how about $500 a month, but it may be for less than a year. I have not advertised it, and so have no rental reservations for this year, but if I start doing renovations, you might have to move again. $500 a month will go a long way to pay for my renovations next year, and for your trouble, if I go that direction."

Her eyes narrowed.

"You could advertise it today and get a lot more. What, $200 a night, in season?"

Henry exhaled through his nose. "If I wished to, yes. I just completed it to this point before my…arrest. I have made no changes since then. I have been…kind of busy." She knew he did not want to speak of that time, and seemed to purse his lips, lost in thought.

"Look, Vic, if Henry decides to upgrade it next year, I'll help you find another place, then. For now, it's small, but will it do for a bit?"

She took a breath, knowing she sounded ungrateful. "What it makes me think is, I couldn't live here in Durant and pay real rent for a place of my own on a deputy's salary."

Why did she say such things that she knew must hurt him? She saw Walt's face go tight and blank. There had been no discussion beyond her acknowledgment of staying: not for how long, or staying as what, or whether she wasslated to replace him as sheriff at his indefinite retirement, when he might ride off into the sunset with the beautiful woman at the Bee. She knew that if she wanted to give notice right at that moment, she was free, with no contract or commitment beyond the approval of the Absaroka County Sheriff.

He cleared his throat. "I just want you to get a good night's sleep."

She put her head down, thought a minute. "What about an air conditioner? Remember, I'm a city girl. It's nice today, but it could get warm in there."

The two men looked at each other, obviously surprised by the question.

"Ah—we can find a window unit, maybe, or a small swamp cooler," said Walt, who added, "It's not a large area to cool."

Nope, it was downright tiny, almost like a studio.

What did she need space for? Not for entertaining, for sure, it would be easy to keep clean, had a tub, and she could sleep to sound of the water at night. It was perfect.

"Okay, I'll take it." She added to Henry, "Thanks, Henry, I know you could do better."

Henry once again met Walt's eyes. "The ASD helped me when I needed it this past year," he said pointedly. "If I remember, there was a tail-light incident with Jacob Nighthorse attributed to you and it broke the case locating David Ridges' body with Sam Poteet. I believe a complaint was lodged against you for the same incident, Vic? That is why I believe I owe the department a good turn here and there for securing my freedom."

She blushed, did not realize he knew the extent of her involvement. Only a few did.

Walt smiled and nodded, obviously relieved that one of his thorny problems had been resolved.

"Vic, I'm giving you and Ferg today off to get you settled. I'll call Dawn and Cassie, I think they're in town, and see if they can clean up my town house today or tomorrow. Late tomorrow our loaners get here, we'll get them moved in and start training."

She gave a resigned nod. It was apparently moving day, but she really didn't mind. She would have her own place away from the station, from those who knew her, if she just wanted to sleep, or get drunk or something. Or, she thought, maybe bring someone home with her. She was lonely, but if she had learned anything in the past few years, it was the difference between friendship and a one-nighter with someone who didn't give a fuck.

"And it's close enough that either Henry or I can help if you have a plumbing emergency, need firewood, or those kind of things..."

Or maybe it wasn't far enough.