Free Buffalo Jump Blues by Keith McCafferty Page B

patronizing you, and when you see the rate, you’re still going to wince and I’m stillgoing to make money. But you might not have to drop any classes to ease your mind.”
    â€œYou’ll drive up there? It’s almost to Canada.”
    â€œIf I need to. But he was seen in the valley, so I’ll ask around here first. You found me through Sam, you said.”
    She nodded.
    â€œDoes he know you were coming into Bridger to see me?”
    â€œNo. That night he pointed you out to me in the bar, he talked about a couple scrapes you two got into. He pulled his shirt out and showed me where he’d taken a bullet for you.”
    â€œNot exactly, but that’s Sam for you.”
    â€œHe told me what you did, about the studio . . . this other business. He said you were going through a rough time. I think he had the idea of hooking us up.”
    â€œThat’s Sam for you, too. The reason I ask is that there might be a time when I want to bring him into our confidence. Actually, that will be today. Sam knows everyone in the valley. Is that going to be a problem?”
    â€œI don’t see why.”
    â€œOkay, let’s go back to last Thursday. You said the man looked Indian. What does that mean? That his face was Indian, his hair in a braid?”
    â€œHis hair wasn’t that long, maybe down to the top of his shoulders. His skin was darker than mine, but then I’m very light. It was more his posture that made me notice.” She dropped her chin to her throat, crossed her arms over her chest. “Like this. He’d stand this way when he was around people like my father, authority figures. Present a shell when uneasy is what he really was.”
    â€œHow was he dressed?”
    â€œJeans, I think. Some kind of shirt, long sleeves. Not tucked in. I remember that because it hung below his jacket and the jacket was short and didn’t have sleeves.”
    â€œLike a vest.”
    She shrugged. “It was a dark color and looked bulky. Oversized. John always wore hand-me-downs, clothes that were too big for him. I think he had a cousin somewhere who was older. I know somebody sent packages of clothes to his aunt.
    â€œUh-huh.” Sean picked up a pencil. He took down some personal information, her address, two phone numbers, a cell and a landline, the mention of which made him raise his eyes. In his experience, the only young people you could reach on landlines lived off the grid on ranches. She said the landlord of the trailer park where she stayed paid for a communal phone because cell reception was hit-and-miss. You could dial out on the landline and you could call that number, but unless someone walking by heard it ringing and that person was willing to walk down the road and knock on your door, you couldn’t be reached. Which didn’t surprise Sean. Unreliable communication was one cost of doing business in Montana. He initialed some changes on a contract and she signed on the line. She stood and pulled her knife from the wood and pocketed it, and was reaching for the arrowheads when Sean’s hand stopped her.
    â€œLet me have the one the bartender gave you, just for a couple days. I promise I’ll return it.”
    He saw her reluctance.
    â€œI promise.”
    She relented, nodding. She tucked the chain with the capped arrowhead under her shirt. “Good fishing,” she said, turning to leave.
    â€œWhat makes you think I’m going fishing?”
    â€œSam said you never go anywhere without getting your fly wet.”
    Sean laughed softly. “I suppose that’s one way to put it. And the Blackfeet Reservation does have some very good lakes. But if I drive up there, I promise I won’t play hooky on your dollar.”
    â€œSam said that, too. He said you were trustworthy, that you were a man—how did he put it? Someone who would manage to step intoshit even if there was only one horse in the pasture. I think he meant