"I can't accept that," Frank said, backing away from Tortoise's outstretched hand that held several $100 bills.
"It's the least I can do," Tortoise insisted. "You have no money."
"Fine," Frank said. "How about I sell you my watch?"
Tortoise nodded and the two swapped.
"I have a question," said Vanessa. "Last night, you had to think before you said we should be fine in Rocky Ford. Did you mean anything by that?"
Tortoise sighed. "Have you heard of the 1488 Commission?"
Frank frowned. "1488? Like the neo-Nazi number?"
"Exactly," Tortoise said. "There used to be a big neo-Nazi group over the border in Idaho called the Aryan Nations. About 20 years ago, a lawsuit made it go bankrupt and break up. Some of the former members formed their own group, the 1488 Commission, and they've been slowly taking over Rocky Ford. Hopefully they'll leave you alone since you're both white folk."
Frank took that information in. "What do we do when we get to the town?"
"Well, there's a gas station that used to be called Dead Custer's. I forget what it's called now. They've changed the name, didn't want to be reminded about white people losing a battle. You might be able to buy a phone there or at least borrow one to call the cops. Although I would be careful about that, they're not big fans of the feds down there."
"Neither are you," Vanessa pointed out.
Tortoise grimaced. "Don't lump me in with those socialists." He spit after saying the last word as if it left a foul taste in his mouth. "Racism alone may not violate the NAP, but it's still collectivist thinking."
Frank and Vanessa nodded like they understood what he was talking about.
Tortoise continued. "That's why I don't know much about the town anymore. Now I go up the road to Wullerton to get supplies, but I can't get the truck out when we have this kind of snowfall."
"Perhaps we got off on the wrong foot," Fenton said. "My name is Mike Muldoon. I'm a payday lender."
"I've never heard of you before," Nelson said. "And I know every loan shark in town."
"I used to work for Bill O'Connor. I'm taking over his accounts and trying to clean them up."
Nelson slowly nodded as he looked at the trio. "You know what, I did hear he got busted a week or two ago and his numbers guy was next-in-line. Boys, you can relax, this guy's legit."
Joe tried to hide his sigh of relief as the men lowered their weapons.
"Let me guess," Nelson said. "You need to know if any of your clients are blowing their cash with me instead of paying you back."
"You know the business," Fenton responded.
Nelson threw back his head and cackled. His teeth were an ugly shade of yellow. "That I do, that I do. I'll see what I can give you; it's always good business to keep the sharks happy."
"Rumor has it some baggage handlers at Ducroy Airlines hit on a lotto pool," Fenton said. "You seen any evidence of that?"
Nelson shrugged. "I don't know where most of my gamblers' work."
Fenton reached into his pocket and handed Nelson a sheet of paper. "This is a list of the employees."
Nelson scanned it. "Ah, here we go," he said. "Ronnie Loggins. He was twenty K in the hole, that's my personal loan limit. He paid me back last week all in cash."
Fenton scowled. "He owes me twice as much, and I haven't seen a dime."
"Uh-oh," Nelson said. "Sounds like I'm about to lose a customer."
The men all laughed, including Fenton. Joe joined in a second too late and the laughter awkwardly stopped.
"Speaking of dimes," Nelson said, "who's this you got here? I haven't seen her around the block before. Looks like you're not doing too bad for yourself."
Joe clenched his fist and stepped forward. Callie lay a restraining hand on his arm.
"Watch out," Nelson guffawed. "Your muscle here might try to steal her from you. Or did he try already, and you had to teach him a lesson?
Fenton pushed Joe back and put an arm around Callie. "He's new," Fenton said. "Tried to go two-on-one with some of Vincenzo's crew and learned a valuable lesson."
The goons winced in sympathy. "Those guys are no joke," one said. "You're lucky to be alive."
"Well, he won't be for much longer if he doesn't stop trying to sample my goods," Fenton said, glaring at Joe.
Joe turned beet-red.
"That's how I knew you weren't a cop," Nelson said. "She's way too young to be on the force. Maybe even too young to do what she's doing. That doesn't bother me though." Nelson winked and the men howled with laughter again.
Joe's face didn't return to its normal coloring until they were halfway back to the hotel.
"I'm going to pay this Loggins fellow a visit tomorrow at the airport," Fenton said as he drove.
"I'll come with you," Joe said.
"That's not necessary," Fenton said. "I don't want to scare him off. Besides, Loggins is not the mastermind. I need you and Callie at Ducroy. Someone tried to kill you two today, and that's probably not because you're looking at some suspicious stock activity. Now, more than ever, I'm convinced the bombing is related to something that's happening at Ducroy."
"Isn't it suspicious that the only person at Ducroy that knows about me and Callie is Mills?" Joe queried, giving Callie a purposeful look.
"Mills did not try to kill us," Callie scoffed. "But I'm going to find out if he said anything to anyone."
"Handling a snowmobile is much easier during the day," Frank thought as he steered. "Especially when you're going down a road instead of through the woods." The relaxed pace allowed Frank's mind to wander, and he took in the sight of the beautiful mountain landscape, the smell of fresh snow and pine, and the feel of Vanessa's body pressed against his back. He admitted to himself that the last sensation was the most enjoyable.
Tortoise, his wife on the back of his vehicle, was slightly ahead, towing a sled carrying Nick's covered corpse. When they reached the outskirts of Rocky Ford, Tortoise stopped. Frank and Tortoise buried Nick's body in several feet of snow, and Frank memorized the location so he could tell the authorities where it was. The group said their goodbyes.
"I'd come with you," Tortoise said. "But I'm not exactly popular around here even since they found out I hire Salish to help out with hunts on the ranch."
As the couple left, Frank and Vanessa began walking into the town.
"He is simultaneously the weirdest and nicest guy I've ever met," Vanessa said. "You better not have ripped him off with that watch sale."
"Don't worry, I didn't." Frank replied. "Aunt Gertrude gave me that diving watch for Christmas two years ago. When I looked it up, it was worth two grand. He got a steal."
There were only two businesses in town: a bar and the gas station/convenience store formerly called Dead Custer's. Its new name was "The Gas Chamber." Frank rolled his eyes.
"Just play it cool," he told Vanessa. "I'd like to get out of here without making anyone mad."
A large bald man with facial tattoos nodded at them when they entered. Frank forced himself to nod back.
"There's cell phones over here," Vanessa called to Frank. He went over and looked at the display of burner phones.
"Let's get the cheapest ones they sell," Frank said. "All we have to be able to do is make phone calls."
The bell above the door tinkled as more people walked into the store. Frank turned to see a group of five skinheads staring at him and Vanessa.
"Hey there sweetie," the largest one called out. He was evidently the leader of the group.
Frank clenched his jaw.
"Remember to play it cool," Vanessa whispered.
"Haven't seen you around here before," a short, squat one said as the group walked over. One with a scraggly beard whistled.
Frank put an arm around Vanessa and pulled her close as the group surrounded them.
"We don't want any trouble," Frank said.
"She's no trouble," the leader said. "The beauty of the White Aryan woman must not perish from the earth." He reached out and fondled Vanessa's ash-blond hair.
Something inside Frank snapped as he saw red. He grabbed the man's arm and spun him around, dislocating his shoulder. The man screamed and fell to his knees, his right arm useless.
"You just made a big mistake," the short one growled. The four skinheads still standing reached inside their coats and pulled out switchblades.
"Slit his throat!" the man on the ground screamed.
The bearded man smiled and took a step forward. "With pleasure."