Junkyard Dogs Read Free Page A

hospital.” Cathi looked back at me. The Absaroka County sheriff’s department might not have too much to do besides stay in out of the winter wind, but Cathi Kindt was another story.
    I avoided the paramedic’s gaze and sat next to Sancho. “Does he need to?”
    She sat on the gurney next to George and folded her arms. “He’s seventy-two years old and just got dragged behind a car for two and a quarter miles.”
    I took off my hat and studied the inside band to gain a little time and let Cathi cool off. Mike Hodges up at H-Bar Hats in Billings had been kind enough to build me a fawn-colored one, since I’d pitched the last one into the Powder River after I decided that I was not a black hat kinda guy.
    I leaned forward and looked past the irate EMT. Geo was still smiling at me, and I figured his teeth were the best part on him. “He looks pretty good, considering.” The grin broadened. “How do you feel, Geo?”
    He looked around the interior of the van and took in the expensive equipment. “I ain’t got any of that gaddam insurance.”
    I figured as much. “Geo, what part of you hit the mailbox?” Everybody in the van looked at me, Cathi started to speak, and Vic covered a grin and snorted a quick laugh.
    “M’shoulder.” He moved it, and I could see its alien position and hear the joint grind. “Little stiff.”
    “Why don’t we get it X-rayed?”
    He shrugged with the other shoulder. “I told ya. I don’t have none of that insurance.”
    I smiled back at him and shook my head. “It’s okay, Geo, the county’s got plenty of money.”
     
     
    “I want a raise.” Vic walked along beside me as the glass doors of Durant Memorial’s emergency entrance closed behind us.
    “No.”
    We were bringing up the rear of the Municipal Solid Waste Facility entourage. I nodded for Saizarbitoria to follow the gurney into the operating room and gestured to Duane and Gina that they should sit on the sofas by the entryway where Geo’s brother, Morris, joined them. He’d evidently heard that his brother had been injured, and the gravity of the situation was partially reflected in the fact that as far as I knew, the man only came into town about three times a year.
    “Hi, Morris.” I waved at him, but he didn’t wave back.
    “You just said the county has plenty of money.”
    I lowered my voice in an attempt to get her to lower hers. “They do for medical services involving recalcitrant, uninsured junkmen but not for the sheriff department’s payroll.”
    Her voice became more conversational. “I want to buy a house.”
    I nodded and then smiled just to let her know that she shouldn’t take her current annual wage personally. “Then you should work hard and save your money.”
    “Fuck you.”
    “It’s amazing the respect I seem to command from my staff, isn’t it?”
    Janine, who sat behind the desk, was my dispatcher Ruby’s granddaughter. She looked up at us from her paperback, nodded, and scratched under her chin with the large, pink eraser of her pencil. “Amazing.”
    Vic leaned her back against the counter and crossed her legs at the ankles. “I’m not kidding, at least about the house. I’m tired of living in a place with wheels on it.”
    Ever since arriving in county, Vic had occupied a single-wide by the highway, and I’d often wondered why she hadn’t taken up a more permanent residence. Perhaps my latest re-election and promise to abdicate to her in two years was having an effect. “Where is this house you want?”
    “Over on Kisling. It’s a little Craftsman place.”
    I looked past her. “The one with the red door?”
    She didn’t say anything for a moment. “Okay, who died there?”
    I shrugged. “Nobody. I just drove by yesterday and saw a for sale sign. Do you know that the Jacobites in Scotland painted their doors red in support of the Forty-Five Rebellion and Bonnie Prince Charlie?”
    “Do you know I don’t give a bonnie big shit?”
    Janine snickered.
    Vic uncrossed