Cowboy Angels by Paul McAuley Read Free Book Online Page B

just climbed the ladder into Stone’s temporary living quarters in the barn’s hayloft. There was a single bed and a kitchen chair and a raw pine chest, an unglazed window that looked out across treetops toward the broad sweep of the Hudson and the Jersey shore. It was warm under the slanting ribs of the rough-hewn roof beams and smelled pleasantly of the straw stacked below. Stone had washed up and put on his Sunday chinos and his best checked shirt. He’d been packing, folding T-shirts into neat squares, when Susan had climbed into the loft. Now he smiled at her and said, ‘Are you mad at me?’
    ‘I understand why you couldn’t talk about this in front of your friend. And I’ll try to understand if you can’t tell me everything, but how about a hint or two?’
    ‘It really isn’t anything. They want me to help find someone.’
    ‘Someone ...’
    ‘An old friend who’s gotten himself into a little trouble. I want to help him, if I can. Not because I want to help David Welch.’
    Stone felt bad because he couldn’t tell Susan about the woman who had been murdered six different ways, about Nathan Tate and the policeman who’d been the nephew of the mayor of New York, about the manhunt. Less than an hour after David Welch had turned up, he was back inside the old world of evasion and half-truths, legends and lies.
    ‘And you’re going, just like that,’ Susan said. ‘He must be a very good friend.’
    ‘Actually, I’m not sure if we’re still friends. The last time we saw each other, we had a falling-out.’
    ‘Over some femme fatale , I hope.’
    ‘As a matter of fact, it was over foreign policy.’
    ‘Not quite as romantic.’
    ‘Sorry to disappoint. But we were good friends once upon a time, and I sort of owe him a favour.’
    ‘Is it going to be dangerous?’
    ‘He wants to talk to me. That’s all I’m going to do.’
    ‘This is what Welch told you?’
    ‘Your Mr Welch is definitely a slippery son of a gun, but I think he told me the truth, as far as it goes.’
    Susan pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. She’d cut it short at the beginning of summer, but now the dirty-blonde curls cascaded around her shoulders. ‘I’ve never asked about what you were doing when you met Jake, Adam, and I’m not going to start now. But I can’t help worrying that this is a lot more dangerous than making sure aid packages get to the right place, or whatever it was you did back then.’
    ‘This friend of mine wants to talk to me. That’s all it is.’
    A silence stretched between them, heavy with evasions and things unspoken, while Stone swiftly packed folded clothes, a wash-bag, and his Colt .45 automatic and shoulder rig inside his kitbag. As he was stuffing socks into nooks and crannies, Blackie, the farm’s Border collie, started to bark out in the yard. A few moments later, Stone heard the roar of the Jeep’s engine. David Welch was back from taking Petey for a ride.
    Susan said, ‘How long is this going to take?’
    ‘I don’t know. A couple of days if I’m lucky.’
    ‘Mr Wallace and his son are due Saturday.’
    ‘They want to bag a sabre-toothed cat. I haven’t forgotten, and I promise I’ll be back in time.’
    Susan narrowed her eyes, put her hands on her hips, and said in a playful, mock-tough voice, ‘You’d better be back, mister, or I’m going to have to find myself another partner.’
    ‘I’ll come back as soon as I can.’
    ‘Take care of yourself around that slippery Colonel Welch.’
    ‘You can bet that I’ll be watching my back every second.’
    Petey was making a lot of noise below, calling to Susan, telling her that the Jeep had gone as fast as anything.
    Susan told her son that she’d be right down, and smiled at Stone. ‘I guess we can manage without you for a little while.’
    Stone smiled back. ‘I know you can.’
    David Welch pretended not to watch when Susan hugged Stone and told him again to take care. Stone slung his kitbag into the back of the Jeep