Blanco County 04 - Guilt Trip Read Free Page B

still recognize the hardened musculature of a rural working man. He had a weathered face, eyebrows that looked as if they might crawl off his forehead at any moment, and a square jaw that was just getting jowly. His skin was the color and texture of a pancake left too long on the griddle. “What’s he got on you?” Hamm asked.
    Herzog sighed. “I told you already. Photographs.”
    “ Yeah , but of what? Snorting coke, pissing in public, what?”
    Herzog desperately wanted to avoid this issue—but he knew he’d have to share the basic facts eventually. Otherwise, Hamm might not comprehend how dire the situation really was.
    Hamm gave Herzog a skeptical look and said, “I’ve wondered about you, Herzog, to tell the truth. The way you dress, your aftershave, all that. Maybe you was chasing some tail in one a those special nightclubs in Austin?”
    “I’m not sure I follow you.”
    “I think you do.”
    “No, Chuck, I really don’t.”
    “Fine, then. Are you a fairy? That’s what I’m asking. Or maybe you swing both ways, like that governor up in New Jersey.”
    Herzog rolled his eyes. It had been obvious to him for quite some time that Hamm had little, if any, respect for him. Just because Herzog didn’t get a little dirt under his fingernails now and then? Just because he didn’t have a farmer’s tan from repairing a fence on the back forty? Just because— yeehaw!— Herzog had never milked a cow? It was damned unfair. Herzog worked hard, too—hell, he exhausted himself—but he did it with brainpower, not mindless manual labor.
    Herzog noticed that Hamm was waiting, indeed expecting an answer to the whole gay question. “Of course not,” he huffed.
    “‘Cause that kinda scenario could fuck things up real bad,” Hamm said quietly, a grimace on his face, as if the room were suddenly swarming with prancing homosexuals. Hamm lifted one boot onto the desktop and stared at the ceiling, thinking. “Maybe it’s something you could, you know, just ride out. Hunker low in your saddle and see if it’ll pass. Hell, most folks aren’t even surprised by what you people do nowadays. Guy gets a bee-jay right in the Oval Office and what do we do? Elect his wife to the U.S. Senate, that’s what. Damn pitiful, if you ask me.”
    Herzog wasn’t sure if he was supposed to comment or not, so he remained silent. He let his gaze roam upward to a Cape buffalo mounted high on the wall behind Hamm’s desk. Fierce-looking animal, with eyeballs that seemed to penetrate Herzog’s very soul. Underneath the ferocity, though, there appeared to be a touch of embarrassment on the animal’s part at finding itself displayed above a credenza that held a combination scanner/copier/fax machine.
    Herzog realized Chuck Hamm had just said something. “Excuse me?”
    “I said if I’m gonna help you out—and that’s an if at this point—you gotta give me some idea what we’re dealing with. The photos. It’s not like you robbed a liquor store or something, right?”
    Herzog shook his head. If only it were something that respectable.
    “Jeez, gimme a clue, here,” Hamm snorted, sitting up, losing his patience. “What ballpark we’re playing in, something like that.”
    Herzog grasped for the right words. This was all so humiliating. Finally, he took a deep breath and just said it. “The photographs are of a sexual nature, but I’d rather not go into details.” He could feel his face flushing a deep red. But deep down, it felt good, unexpectedly good, to share his burden with someone. Even a troll like Hamm.
    The rancher didn’t smirk or leer or make sophomoric comments, as Herzog expected, but rather seemed to be contemplating the implications. “Not your wife?” he asked.
    “Uh, no.” It pained Herzog deeply to admit that to another human being.
    Hamm nodded as if he understood completely. “Just one woman?”
    Herzog emitted an exasperated breath. “Well, yeah, what else?” Jesus, what does this guy take me