Free Plains Crazy by J.M. Hayes Page B

world’s teeming population weren’t people, they were just meat. It wasn’t a world view he was completely comfortable with, whether he qualified as a person or not.
    â€œYeah, I’m a person. So’s my deputy,” the sheriff said. “Just not a very alert one. I’m not always alert either, but now and then I hear what someone tells me. And, if you mean am I
Tsistsistas
, then the answer is barely.”
    â€œAhh,” Stone said, something coming to life in the depths of his eyes. “You are the Mad Dog’s Englishman.”
    Normally, the sheriff would have explained his dislike for that nickname, and asked the old man not to use it. But, somehow, on this man’s lips it sounded more like a compliment. “You know about my brother and me?”
    â€œI have heard that there are men here who may be distant relatives. One of them might wish to serve the spirit world. That is part of the reason I came. My people, we decided, if PBS was going to do this, one of us needed to see that they did it…” He paused for a moment, looking for the right word. “…with respect,” he continued, having, the sheriff thought, found exactly the one he wanted.
    â€œYour brother has come to Oklahoma to try to make contact with me, or one of the other old men. I am afraid we avoided him. There are many who seek wisdom for the wrong reasons. They are not people. Among the
Tsistsistas
, some are willing to sell our secrets, even when they don’t really know them. The ones who do that, they are not people either. We encounter real people in search of truths so seldom. In your brother’s case, we may have been wrong. Or so my grandfather tells me.”
    â€œMad Dog will be delighted to speak with you. And I’d love to be there to listen. But right now, I’ve got a murder to investigate.”
    The old man nodded. “I see. You have
not
chosen to serve the spirit world. At least not yet.”
    The sheriff allowed himself a self-conscious laugh. “My brother has had some astounding insights. He’s told me things that turned out to be accurate, and there’s no rational way to explain how he could know them. But he’s the natural-born shaman in our family, not me. Philosophically, I’m…Well, I don’t know what I am. Undecided, I suppose. But I’m sheriff of this county and we have a dead body. What I’m serving right now is the law. And what I need are answers. Who wanted to kill Michael Ramsey? And why?”
    â€œBefore you find answers, sometimes you must first ask the right questions.”
    The sheriff shook his head. This was like talking to Mad Dog when he was doing his Zen Cheyenne thing.
    Bud Stone smiled at the sheriff’s confusion. Maybe he had a sense of humor after all.
    â€œI do not think anyone wanted to kill Michael Ramsey,” Stone said. “That is what my grandfather was explaining before I was called back to this time and place.”
    Despite the source, the concept was uncomfortably similar to the one the sheriff had already begun to consider. Mad Dog had been the target. Michael Ramsey was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. The sheriff opened his mouth to ask Bud Stone if “Who might want to kill Mad Dog?” was the right question when his cell phone chirped.
    â€œEnglish,” he said into the receiver.
    And just like that, the question changed.
    Why would a terrorist pick on Buffalo Springs?
    ***
    â€œTwo words,” Jud Haines said. “Eminent domain.”
    Chairman Wynn pushed his chair back from his desk and shook his head. “Hold on now,” he said. Those two words could lose him the next election.
    â€œDamn right, hold on,” Supervisor Finfrock said. He leaned forward until he was on the edge of his seat, a worn leather sofa beneath the chairman’s windows. “Folks vote Republican in Benteen County, not because they’re conservative,