Home Everlasting (Holliday Book 3) Page 2

  "Hey," whispered Gregg. "Hey frontier man."

  "Yeah?"

  "You're a strong guy. You've been through a shit ton of hate and bullshit in your life. I can tell. I can see it in your eyes. I can see it in the pieces of your soul that you care to share with the world. You already have the strength to go in there and see the old man. He's important to you. That's why it's difficult. And that's the point," said Gregg. He was calm and strong and Marty found even more strength in that. The guy he was falling for was sharing his strength when Marty needed it. It was beautiful and endearing.

  Marty sighed and breathed hard out of his nose. He ran his free hand through his hair. "Yeah. You're right. You're absolutely fucking right," he replied. He drank the last of the beer and shook his head at Joel who motioned to know if he wanted another one.

  "And, I'll be there soon. I think I can swing it to be in town in a bit. You wanna see me?" asked Gregg, a playful lilt in his voice.

  "Of course. I'd even get you from the airport. When you're around, you let me know and I'll be there. Wherever. Whenever." He knew he sounded desperate, perhaps even on the edge of being that crazy rural boyfriend. But he didn't care. In that small way, that phone call was just what he needed and Gregg had been there for him.

  Gregg said his goodbyes and hung up, leaving Marty to put a few more dollars on the bar, wave to Joel and figure out what was next. He was feeling more confident and ready to see Saul and face his fears.

  But first, he chuckled and coughed as he stepped outside, one more cigarette.

  ~~~

  Lilith sat in the main lobby of the hospital, having refused any of the lounges or even a seat inside her father's room. She would feel even more useless in there, staring at him while he was unconscious. And if he woke up, it would be even worse! He would demand that she go away and do something productive, thinking that she was just another crying nursemaid, watching him die.

  Mulreedy had walked by several times, giving her sporadic updates and his usual brand of complaining humor, assuring her that everything was gong fine, even if the entire hospital staff was inept, incompetent, useless, ill prepared to handle even an ingrown toenail, and most importantly that the young doctors were cocky know nothings. It was comforting that even in crisis mode, Mulreedy was still Mulreedy.

  She laid down on the couch, staring up at the ceiling, and letting her mind drift to Clark and that arena of problems. Spending the night with him, sex with him, cuddling with him, morning coffee with him, it had all been fantastic. It had been amazing, even if it was under the shadow of a bad decision with Zeke.

  Zeke could be anywhere by now, and she hoped that he wasn't in town. The last thing she needed was his further intrusion into her life. A life, especially now, she was sure that she wanted with Clark. In her heart she knew he couldn't be Ricky's killer. But her rational side knew better. She didn't know Clark that well and she had fallen for him so easily that it could all just be ripped from her, this fantasy that she was desperate to get lost in.

  And then there was Pistol. Probably no one, including Marty, had informed him of Saul's condition, otherwise she'd have had to console him and force him to go back to work rather than sitting there with her. With her father's collapse, and the previous conversation having been around Pistol's affairs with prostitutes, she felt an urge to follow through on her father's request to have a few words with Pistol. It could be one the last things that he ever said.

  She laughed at that, thinking that of all things, Pistol was the last topic of conversation between her and her father. Pistol was a lot of things to her, but not nearly that important. But maybe that was her father's point. Maybe Pistol needed to be more important?

  She sighed and sat back up. She needed caffeine or a nap, but she couldn't just keep sitting there waiting for some horrible news to reach her. She got up and walked outside, thinking that perhaps she could figure out where Marty had gone off to. He had disappeared so abruptly and yet silently that she had gotten worried about him.

  But as she walked through the parking lot, Marty turned into it and stuck his hand out the window and waved at her. He sloppily parked and jumped out, giving her a hug.

  "You smell like booze," she muttered, pushing him away. "Is that where you ran off to?"

  "Yeah, I had to deal with some stuff. Had to find another pack of cigarettes, and well the booze happened along the way," he muttered.

  “You seem…better?” she asked.

  "Yeah. I figured some stuff out. I'm back. I want to see the old man. And, before I forget, I have something for you!" he exclaimed, thrusting his hand into his pocket and removing the will.

  She took it, opened it, and scanned the contents. "What is this?" she muttered, trying to decipher the handwriting.

  "Well, I was going for an early morning ride through the ranch, this morning, before Saul collapsed. And I was digging through the mine shafts--"

  "You were what? You shouldn't be going in there!"

  "Yeah, you're not wrong. But I was. And I found...well. I found a body, Lilith. I think...I think it was your great grandfather," he replied. "I found his pocket watch and in his breast pocket I found that paper, which could only be his will. I think, anyway."

  Lilith looked at the crumpled, folded sheet, still not completely being able to read the old style letters. "We're going to have to take this to Neederlander," she said, finally giving up on reading it. "He'll know what to make of it."

  "Alright," said Marty, clearly pleased with himself. "I think this is good news! The only good news for a while anyway."

  "Why're you so happy? You got a hot date or something?"

  "Actually, in fact, I do," laughed Marty.

  "Oh," responded Lilith, surprise etched on her face. "Did it happen just now?"

  "Yeah. But we'll talk about it after I see the old man," he said, smiling.

  "Alright. I'm sure Mulreedy has an update for me anyway," she replied, slightly confused as to the barrage of events and information that Marty had brought back with him. "And I'll ask Neederlander to have that body looked at."

  "Sounds like a plan!"

  She sighed and led Marty back inside, where hopefully there would be good news.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Mulreedy had assured her, after she protested multiple times, that there was nothing that she could do by sitting and waiting, and having three doctors overseeing Saul would be very annoying. For Mulreedy, anyway. He had pushed her out of the hospital, urging her to get some rest, drink some coffee, herd the cattle, do anything but sit in the hotel lobby waiting for news. Saul would recover when he recovered. But for the moment, he was stable.

  She had stared at Mulreedy's back as he went inside to battle Doctor Wynn, then got into her truck and drove into town. She could at least drop off the letter to Neederlander, her father's lawyer, before heading home for a cup of hot cocoa, a cookie, and probably a nap.

  The sun was breaking through a few wispy clouds in the sky, bathing the old one street town in a beautiful glow of sunlight, with the scant shadows of the clouds drifting periodically over the storefronts. It was a beautiful Montana day, and she tried to focus on the positive: her father was still alive, Marty was happy and had a date, and the appearance of her great-grandfather's will could be positive for the ranch.

  She parked her truck on Main Street, a quaint Old West downtown, and stared up at Neederlander's office on the second floor of one of the few buildings, sitting above a jewelry store. The store was owned by Neederlander's wife, and it was often cute to see them leaving at the same time at five o'clock, or taking in lunch together across the street where they could monitor if either of them had visitors.

  From where she parked she could see the Sheriff's Office and imagined that if she peered in through the windows, she would be able to stare at Clark, waiting for justice to be done. Could she believe it was actually justice? Should she go see him? She shook her head and decided to push it further into the back of her mind. She had to s
ee Neederlander. If, after that, she still wanted to see him, to look into his eyes, to perhaps grasp his fingers through the bars, or convince Holt to give them some privacy in another room, then she would walk across the street and deal with it then.

  She opened the door and took the stairs two at a time up to Neederlander's office. The windows in the upper hallway overlooked the street, almost in a grandiose way even though it was only 15 feet or so. She took a moment and stared out at the Sheriff's office again, before clutching the will in her hand and opening Neederlander's door.

  The waiting room was sparse, and although he always had a desk for a secretary, he had never actually hired one. There was a door into his inner office and a couple of chairs against the opposite wall. On his door was a large sign that read "KNOCK AND WAIT." She followed its instructions and then stepped back and took a seat.

  She took out her phone and passed the time with a mindless game, waiting for Neederlander to answer. Minutes turned to half an hour, and as she thought of leaving, the door finally swung open with a bang.

  "Yes, hello, who is out here?" asked Neederlander. He was over six feet, the rabid tufts of hair on top of his head nearly scraping the top of the door frame. He wore a shaggy, clearly mistreated suit, and a stained tie. His shoes were scuffed and the right sole was separating in several places.

  Despite his appearance, the rumor that Lilith always heard was that Neederlander had never lost a case, and more importantly, always settled for large sums of money. The Neederlander Ranch wasn't as large as the Holliday's, but it distinctly more beautiful, set across the side of several mountains, overlooking a river that wound through their valley. They were one of the oldest families around.

  "Mister Neederlander," said Lilith, bounding up from her chair. "I have something I needed to show you, and I couldn't make an appointment."

  "I got a call from Mulreedy," said Neederlander, sniffling and wiping his nose with the back of his hand. "I hope your father comes through this. But know that I'm ready if he doesn't. I know, I know, it's harsh Lilith. But I'm here for you and the ranch." He gestured to her to come into his office and take a seat.

  She sat down in front of his desk and slapped the will on his desk. "My father will hopefully be fine. But this is why I came to see you. Marty found this. You remember Marty?"

  Neederlander took out his grimy reading glasses and swung them onto his face. She couldn’t imagine seeing out of his foggy square frames. He picked up the will and squinted at the curly handwriting. "He's the gay one right?" he muttered, concentrating on the will.

  "Right. Anyway, he found this, supposedly on a body in an old mine shaft on the ranch."

  "Body?" said Neederlander, looking at her over his glasses, his left eyebrow raised.

  "Yeah. He said it was probably my great-grandfather."

  "We'll see about that," muttered Neederlander, bringing his attention back to the will. He grunted as he read it again. He took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. "This is very interesting. But I can't deal with it right now. I need to get your father's affairs in order, and then we can deal with this. But it seems important."

  "It does?"

  "Well, I'm going to need to match the signature and handwriting to your great grandfather's papers. They're somewhere in storage. The Holliday archives, you know how my father kept your family's papers. It's going to be a mess. But this is good, I can get everything in order at the same time." Lilith was continually amazed as to how interconnected all the families in the Beartooth Mountains were. The Dolmats helping the Hollidays. The Neederlanders were the perpetual lawyers. Everyone helped everyone else in whatever ways they could so everyone could thrive.

  "Everything?"

  Neederlander placed the will on top of a teetering pile of other papers on his desk. "With your father in the hospital, it's more than past due to make sure everything is in order. I was looking through some other things and found some notes that your father wanted to add. But we never got around to it for whatever reason. I will have to draft a new copy, and hopefully your father can sign it in due course." He shifted papers on his desk until he found a folder, opened it, and started reading. He looked over his glasses at her. "Is there anything else?"

  "Oh, no," she said, getting up quickly. "When should I return?"

  "Tomorrow. Bring Mulreedy and Marty," he said absently, not looking up from his folder.

  "Marty?"

  His eyes snapped up and met hers. "Yes, Marty. The gay one, right?"

  "Yeah."

  "Bring him along too."

  She nodded and left the room, thoroughly confused as to what Neederlander could want from Marty of all people. He was connected to the family, sure. Hell, he was family, but her father had never mentioned that Neederlander even knew of him. Maybe Saul had included Marty in the will?

  She shook her head. That was a thoughtful gesture that she didn't think her father was capable of doing. Maybe she needed to get to know him better. After all, he did tell her to talk to Pistol. A wave of sadness overtook her as she pranced down the stairs. Did she even have time to get to know him better?

  ~~~

  Pistol had woken up in a great mood. The early morning sunshine was beautiful instead of a pain in his eyes. His bed was warm and occupied by Kelsey, his arm around her chest, their legs intertwined. He had poured her coffee into a thermos and forked over her payment for the night's chaste activity. And it didn't even hurt that morning. Or at least, hurt less than usual.

  They were getting along, the conversation was great, and he wanted to broach the topic of sex at some point! Some point soon, he thought. Sure, she was a prostitute, but he wanted to broach the idea that they were meant to be more than that.

  He decided to drive into town, choosing to skip work the moment that he got into his truck, and tried to think of a way to show her that he was serious about her. He called his boss and complained he was in sick, to which he got an earful about his reputation being proved true everyday. Pistol knew he needed to keep going to work to keep paying Kelsey, but maybe he could skip all that logic and go straight for gold.

  He looked at his gas gauge, realizing that he was running low on diesel. His bank account was running low on funds as well. "Fuck," he muttered, as he pulled off onto the narrow shoulder of the road leading into town. He got out and decided to walk the rest of the way. Anything to save a few drops of diesel and a few dollars in his account. Losing his job wasn’t an option, but it hadn’t sunk in yet.

  He took out his phone and checked his bank account, trying to see if he had any money left to buy something for Kelsey. A small gift. A small something to show that he was promising himself to her. He shook his head as he saw the small number displayed on the screen. It would have to be a really small gift, then.

  He steadied himself in his boots and continued walking towards Main Street. Things weren't going all that great for him. But things had a way of working out. And if they didn't, he could always join his father down in the bunker. His father's old reclining chair, that he'd thrown down into the abyss, had always been warm. He could sell his dad's home and just live down there. But would Kelsey?

  He thought he spotted Lilith's truck pulling away from town and coming towards him. He tried to flag her down. She stuck her arm out her window, waved at him, and slowed to a stop. "Fancy seeing you here," he said.

  "Why're you walkin'? That your truck back there?" she said, pointing further down the road.

  "Yeah, I decided to have a nice walk instead of driving," he lied. He still wasn't sure how much of his situation he wanted to tell her. She was his best friend and her reprimands hurt the most.

  "You want a lift into town or you gonna walk along like a hobo?" she asked, smirking at him. "I love walking as much as the next guy, but this ain't a very scenic route." He hopped in the passenger door and Lilith swung the truck around. "You got business in town?"

  "Nah, just wanted to stop in and look at some stuff."

  "Ah. What sorta
stuff if you don't mind me asking?"

  "Just a present for someone," he said, immediately regretting saying it. Now the questions wouldn't stop unless he lied.

  "Someone special?"

  "Just someone," he replied. "Something nice."

  "Is it for a girl?"

  "Maybe."

  “Do I know her?”

  “Maybe you will soon.”

  "Alright Pistol, I need to talk to you about something."

  He side eyed her and put his hand on the door handle, ready to jump out as soon as she put on the brakes. He wasn’t in the mood for a lecture, no matter what she had heard. "Look Lilith, I get it, you're gonna bring up something, and I just don't know if I wanna hear it, ok?"

  She looked at him, saw his hand on the door handle, and pressed hard on the gas. She had begged her father to put in a higher horsepower engine into her truck, and as those ponies revved and the tires gripped the road and sped off, she was glad she did. Pistol wasn't getting out of this conversation so easily.

  He saw Neederlander's jewelry shop pass by. "I needed to stop there," he muttered.

  "Yeah, guess that's not happening. I'm not sure about this attitude of yours, but my father collapsed today," she said, glaring at him momentarily, as she sped down the road.

  "He what?"

  "Collapsed. He's in the hospital. Now, you wanna know what one of the last things he told me to do, before he collapsed on the front steps of the house?"

  Pistol gulped, unsure how to respond. There was something menacing in her tone, as if he had inadvertently disrespected her. Maybe he shouldn't have gotten in the car. Maybe he shouldn't have gotten out of bed. "What did he say," he whispered.

  "He told me to talk to you, about what's been going on. There's been talk among some of the guys in town that you've been falling into your father's old habits," she said, glancing at him again. She wished her truck had power locks on the door so she could make sure he wouldn't jump out.