"You were pretty sure you'd have a busted nose tomorrow," he said.
"I think this is best," she said.
"Why did you change your clothes?"
"These are better," she said. "I don't want to provoke him."
"You look like a cowgirl, born in Amarillo."
"He likes me like this."
"And dressing like who you are would provoke him?"
She made a face. A defeated face, he thought.
"Don't chicken out, Carmen," he said. "Stand and fight instead."
"I will," she said. "Tonight. I'll tell him I'm not going to take it anymore."
He said nothing.
"So don't talk to him today, O.K.?" she said.
He looked away.
"It's your call," he said.
"It's better this way."
She went back into the house. Reacher stared north at the road. Sitting down, he could see a mile less of it. The heat was up, and the shimmer was starting.
She woke him again after another hour. The clothes were the same, but she had removed the makeup.
"You think I'm doing this wrong," she said.
He sat up and rubbed both hands over his face, like he was washing.
"I think it would be better out in the open," he said. "He should know somebody else knows. If not me, then his family, maybe."
"I can't tell them."
"No, I guess you can't."
"So what should I do?"
"You should let me talk to him."
"Not right away. It would be worse. Promise me you won't."
He nodded.
"It's your call," he said. "But you promise me something, O.K.? Talk to him yourself, tonight. For sure. And if he starts anything, get out of the room and just scream your head off until we all come running. Scream the place down. Demand the cops. Shout for help. It'll embarrass him. It'll change the dynamic."
"You think?"
"He can't pretend it isn't happening, not if everybody hears you."
"He'll deny it. He'll say I was just having a nightmare."
"But deep inside, he'll know we know."
She said nothing.
"Promise me, Carmen," he said. "Or I'll talk to him first."
She was quiet for a moment.
"O.K., I promise you," she said.
He settled back on the swing and tried to doze another hour. But his internal clock was telling him the time was getting near. The way he remembered the maps of Texas, Abilene was probably less than seven hours from Echo County. Probably nearer six, for a driver who was a DA and therefore a part of the law enforcement community and therefore relatively unconcerned about speeding tickets. So assuming Sloop got out at seven without any delay, they could be home by one o'clock. And he probably would get out without any delay, because a minimum-security federal facility wouldn't have a whole lot of complicated procedures. They'd just make a check mark on a clipboard and cut him loose.
He guessed it was nearly twelve and looked at his watch to confirm it. It was one minute past. He saw Bobby come out of the horse barn and start up the track past the car barn. He was carrying his breakfast plate, blinking in the sun, walking like his limbs were stiff. He crossed the yard and stepped up on the porch. Said nothing. Just walked on into the house and closed the door behind him.
About twelve-thirty, Ellie came wandering up from the direction of the corrals. Her yellow dress was all covered in dirt and sand. Her hair was matted with it and her skin was flushed from the heat.
"I've been jumping," she said. "I pretend I'm a horse and I go around and around the jumps as fast as I can."
"Come here," Reacher said.
She stood close and he dusted her down, brushing the sand and the dirt to the floor with his palm.
"Maybe you should go shower again," he said. "Get your hair clean."
"Why?"
"So you look nice, for your daddy getting home."
She thought about it, with intense concentration.
"O.K.," she said.
"Be quick."
She looked at him for a moment, and then she turned and ran into the house.
At a quarter to one, Bobby came outside. He was clean and dressed in fresh jeans and a new T-shirt. He had alligator boots on his feet. They had silver accents at the toe. He was wearing another red ball cap. It was backward on his head, and it had a flash on the side reading Division Series 1999.
"They lost, right?" Reacher said.
"Who?"
"The Texas Rangers. In the 1999 Division Series. To the Yankees."
"So?"
"So nothing, Bobby."
Then the door opened again and Carmen and Ellie came out together. Carmen was still in the cowgirl outfit. She had the makeup on again. Ellie was still in the yellow seersucker. Her hair was wet and tied back into a ponytail with a ribbon. Carmen was holding her hand and staggering slightly, like her knees were weak.
Reacher stood up and gestured that she should sit down. Ellie climbed up and sat next to her. Nobody spoke. Reacher stepped to the porch rail and watched the road. He could see all the way to where the power lines disappeared in the haze. Maybe five miles north. Maybe ten. It was hard to be certain.
He was deep in the shadow of the porch, and the world was hot and white in front of him. He saw the dust cloud right at the extremity of his vision. It smudged in the haze and hung and drifted east, like a faint desert breeze was catching it and pushing it over toward Greer land. It grew until he could make out its shape. It was a long yellow teardrop of dust, rising and falling, dodging left and right with the curves of the road. It grew to a mile long, and many generations of it bloomed and dissipated before it came close enough for him to see the lime green Lincoln at its head. It came up over a contour in the road and shimmered through the haze and slowed where the barbed wire gave way to the red picket fence. It looked dusty and tired and travel-stained. It braked hard close to the gate and the front end squatted as the suspension compressed. It turned in sharply. The cone of dust behind it drifted straight on south, like it had been outwitted by the abrupt change of direction.
There was a crunch of dirt and gravel and the sun flashed once in the windshield as the car came through its turn, and then three figures were clearly visible inside. Hack Walker was at the wheel. Rusty Greer was in the back seat. And there was a large pale man in the front. He had short fair hair and a plain blue shirt. He was craning his neck, looking around, smiling broadly. Sloop Greer, arriving home.
Chapter 9
The Lincoln stopped next to the porch and the suspension settled and the engine died. Nobody inside the car moved for a moment. Then three doors opened up and all three people spilled out and Bobby and Ellie clattered down the porch steps toward them. Reacher moved back from the rail. Carmen stood up slowly and stepped forward and took his place there.
Sloop Greer left his door open and stretched in the sun like anyone would after a year and a half in a cell and six hours on the road. His face and hands were white with prison pallor and he was overweight from the starchy food, but he was Bobby's brother. There was no doubt about that. He had the same hair, the same face, the same bones, the same posture. Bobby stepped straight in front of him and held his arms wide and hugged him hard. Sloop hugged back and they staggered around and whooped and clapped each other on the back like they were on a lawn in front of a frat house and somebody had done something big in a game of college football.
Ellie froze and hung back, like she was suddenly confused by the noise and the commotion. Sloop let Bobby go and squatted down and held his arms out to her. Reacher turned and watched Carmen's face. It was locked up tight. Ellie stood in the dirt, shy and motionless, knuckles in her mouth, and then she made some kind of a mental connection and launched herself into Sloop's embrace. He whirled her up into the air and hugged her. Kissed her cheek. Danced her around and around in a circle. Carmen made a small sound in her throat and looked away.
Sloop set Ellie down on the ground and looked up into the porch and smiled triumphantly. Behind him Bobby was talking to his mother and Hack Walker. They were huddled together behind the car. Sloop was holding out his hand, beckoning to his wife. She backed away from the porch rail, deep into the shadow.
"Maybe you should talk to him after all," she whispered.
"Make your mind up," Reacher whispered back.
"Let me see how it goes," she said.
She took a deep breath and forced a smile and skipped down the steps. Took Sloop's hands and folded herself into his arms. They kissed, long enough that nobody would think they were brother and sister, but not long enough that anybody would think there was real passion there. Behind the car Bobby and his mother had detached themselves from Hack and were walking around the hood and heading for the porch. Bobby had a worried look on his face and Rusty was fanning herself with her hand and looking hard in Reacher's direction, all the way up the steps.
"I hear Bobby invited you to lunch," she said quietly, at the top.
"Very gracious of him," Reacher said.
"Yes, it was. Very gracious. But it's going to be a purely family thing today."
"Is it?" Reacher said.
"Not even Hack is staying," she added, like it was final proof of something.
Reacher said nothing.
"So I'm sorry," she said. "But the maid will bring your meals down to the bunkhouse, in the usual way. You boys can get together again tomorrow."