The Man Who Fell from the Sky Read Free Page A

at every possibility.” Vicky was thinking that the local FBI agent, Ted Gianelli, was a thorough investigator. No stone would be left unturned. Eventually Ruth would appreciate his thoroughness.
    â€œNothing would have happened if Cutter had been with him.” Ruth turned toward Vicky. “You remember Jimmy Walking Bear? He went to St. Francis School with us. Got the name Cutter on aTexas ranch, where he was the best at cutting out cattle during roundup.”
    Vicky tried for the third time this afternoon to reach back to the years at St. Francis School, all the brown-faced, black-haired kids bent over papers and books at desks arranged in perfect rows, and a nun—Sister Mary Rita, perhaps—or one of the priests explaining a mathematical problem, writing assignments on the blackboard, rapping a ruler on the desk to stop the giggling in the back of the classroom. There were several priests at the mission who taught classes then. Good teachers, the Jesuits. She tried to picture a boy named Jimmy Walking Bear, but all the gangly, pimply boys blurred in her mind.
    â€œI’m afraid I don’t remember him,” she said.
    Ruth waved one hand, as if she were shooing off a mosquito. “Robert’s cousin. Two or three times removed, but still a relative. Anyway when Cutter was about eleven, his father packed up the family and moved to Oklahoma. So Cutter grew up not knowing his own people, where he came from. He came back to the rez a couple months ago looking for family. First thing he did was find Robert. They formed a real tight bond. I wish Robert had taken him hunting, but Robert never took anybody hunting . . .”
    â€œHunting?”
    Ruth gave a small smile of memory, unlike the fake, plastered smile she had worn earlier. “Treasure. Robert was hunting treasure. Long as I’ve known him, he talked about finding the treasure Butch Cassidy buried up in the mountains around Bull Lake when he was hiding out here after a robbery. Robert heard the stories when he was a kid and they clamped on to him, wouldn’t let him go. It was his hobby, hunting for that treasure. He worked all week on the highway, laying down asphalt in the hot sun, and on Fridayhe’d head up into the mountains where it was cool and he could relax and hunt for treasure. He liked to go alone, be by himself for a few days. I never knew for certain when he would come home. If he was onto something, he’d camp up there and keep working all weekend. So I wasn’t worried when he didn’t come home last night. I figured he thought he found something.”
    She stopped and bit at her lip a moment. “I never expected him to find treasure. If you want to know the truth, neither did Robert. It was the looking that was fun. Until . . .” She left off again and squinted into space, trying to fix a memory. “When his grandfather Luther died, Robert found a leather case in the old man’s barn. Inside was a map. Well, Robert got real excited. Said Butch Cassidy left a map behind, just like Luther always said. With all those movie people on the rez making a documentary about Butch Cassidy, Robert figured there’d be a stampede of people hunting for Butch’s treasure. So he took time off his job and went up into the mountains every day. Said he was getting close.” She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “He was always getting close.”
    The screened door opened and people began to flow onto the stoop, down the steps, and across the yard, heading for the lone cottonwood tree and the shade splashed over the dirt. Several women hovered over Ruth, wanting to know how she was doing. Was there anything they could get her?
    â€œI should see about the coffee.” Ruth jumped to her feet.
    â€œWe’ll take care of it.” The women wheeled about and started back up the steps. The screened door slammed behind them.
    â€œI have to check on the elders.”