Raylan_ A Novel - Elmore Leonard [38]
Raylan stepped out of the car.
“Boyd, what they got you doing, cleanin up?”
“I find myself,” Boyd said, “when I least expect always in the winner’s circle. I’m on Carol Conlan’s staff, helping her out while she’s gettin ready for the meeting.”
“That’s why you’re driving the limo?”
“I’m not above takin the wheel,” Boyd said, “she’s got some scudder in the backseat, cuttin him down without ever raisin her voice. Raylan, when you’re always right, you don’t have to talk loud.”
“You get along with her?”
“We discuss different aspects of life as they apply to surface mining . . . the kind of complaints the company gets. She wants to know about any new ones she hasn’t heard.”
“Ask her,” Raylan said, “why she told you to shoot Otis Culpepper.”
Boyd looked tired shaking his head. “Man, you always get on me, don’t you? The old man was firing his scattergun before I got off a round.”
Raylan was showing a faint grin.
“You saved Carol’s life?”
“She says I did.”
“Where was she when Otis fired at her?”
“As I recall, by the trailer, havin come out the door.”
“He shoot up the trailer?”
Boyd said, “Hey, come on. All I know is he didn’t hit Ms. Conlan. All this on account of the old man’s fishpond, the pond dead, Otis claims, from all that gob the mine poured into the streams. I said, ‘Otis, don’t fish get old and die, like everybody else?’ He wouldn’t listen to me.”
“Carol here yet?”
“She’s stayin at a home in Woodland Hills, one this fella has a piece of the company owns and lets her use. Casper Mott, you remember him?”
“Little guy,” Raylan said, “living on top of a mountain.”
“M-T bought it off him. He held out, said he was puttin in a bridle path and rent out horses. M-T wanted his mountain so bad they gave him stock in the company. Casper turned from nature boy to coal company showboat and got rich. He likes Ms. Conlan, so he’ll be at the get-together.”
Raylan said, “You know when I go to work?”
“In the mornin,” Boyd said. “I pick you up and then get Ms. Conlan. She wants to talk to you, make sure you’re what she wants.”
Art stepped up while they were talking, Boyd giving him a nod, then saying to Raylan, “Got your boss watchin out for you; good,” and looked at Art again. “See he don’t shoot Ms. Conlan, now he’s got a feel for shootin women.”
“I recall,” Art said, “he shot you one time. You’re mouthin off at Raylan, your gun right there on the table.”
“Havin supper Ava fixed for me that time,” Boyd said. “Yeah, Raylan shot me dead center, but the Lord made him miss my heart by a hair and I survived it.”
Art said, “I bet the Lord’s havin second thoughts.”
“Hey, come on,” Boyd said, “me and Raylan are buddies now, both workin for the coal company.”
In the SUV again, circling down the bare mountain, Art said, “I admire your control. He made that remark about shootin the nurse, you didn’t deck him.”
“I am practicing self-control,” Raylan said, “for when I’m with Ms. Conlan. Boyd’s right, I’ve shot a woman, but I’ve still never hit one with my hand.”
Chapter Seventeen
She came out of the tall pillars across the front of the Colonial in Woodland Hills and walked up to Raylan and Boyd waiting by the limo. She didn’t look at Boyd. She offered Raylan her hand saying, “Carol Conlan.”
Raylan, his expression pleasant enough said, “Ma’am,” touched the brim of his hat and gave her hand a squeeze. “I’m Raylan Givens.”
“I know, I’ve been reading about you, the one who shot the nurse.”
Raylan waited.
“The write-up in the paper called you brave. Are you?”
“I try to be whatever’s required.”
“Would you give your life to save mine?”
That took him to the heart of his job here. Raylan paused.
“It would depend on the situation.”
“What does that mean?”
He said, “Carol . . . once I’m dead and gone to heaven, how do I know I’ve saved your life?” There. If she didn’t care for him calling her Carol, fire him.
But she seemed to let it go. What she said was, “Raylan,” in a mild voice, “wouldn’t heaven know if you saved my life or not?”
He had to smile saying, “You got me.”
Carol said, “Let’s