Chapters (110)
- Cover
- ALSO BY J. TODD SCOTT
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- PROLOGUE
- I
- II
- PART ONE
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- PART TWO
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- PART THREE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- PART FOUR
- SIXTY-TWO
- SIXTY-THREE
- SIXTY-FOUR
- SIXTY-FIVE
- SIXTY-SIX
- SIXTY-SEVEN
- SIXTY-EIGHT
- SIXTY-NINE
- SEVENTY
- SEVENTY-ONE
- SEVENTY-TWO
- SEVENTY-THREE
- SEVENTY-FOUR
- SEVENTY-FIVE
- SEVENTY-SIX
- SEVENTY-SEVEN
- SEVENTY-EIGHT
- SEVENTY-NINE
- EIGHTY
- EIGHTY-ONE
- EIGHTY-TWO
- EIGHTY-THREE
- EIGHTY-FOUR
- EPILOGUE
- I
- II
- III
- IV
- V
- VI
- VII
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- Excerpt from LOST RIVER
- LITTLE PARIS
- DILLON
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- What’s next onyour reading list?
Chris had arranged for her to stay out at Javy’s place, about eight miles east of the Far Six; close enough for Chris to get to her if he needed to, but just as remote. But Javy was running late, and then Chris got stuck on a sudden call from Joe Garrison—a call that now had him pacing back and forth across their bedroom.
That was how Mel ended up opening her door to Fox Uno.
—
THEY WERE ALL OUT THERE ON HER PORCH: America, Danny, the young girl Zita all done up in a dress, and last, Fox Uno. They’d come in Danny’s Bronco, dragging with them an odd assortment of bags, even a sleeping bag. The girl was shy, half hidden behind Danny and Amé, but Fox Uno stared at Mel without concern or embarrassment. He had the same weathered look as Javy Cruz—thinning white hair pushed back high on his head in a near pompadour, deep crow’s-feet at the corners of his eyes, a thick turkey wattle. But those eyes of his were clear, calculating. It was like the eyes weren’t as old as the rest of him, or somehow—and this was worse—far, far older. They sort of reminded her of her daddy’s eyes midway through a solid night of drinking, only without the bloodshot.
Given all the things Mel now knew about Fox Uno, she couldn’t help wondering how many people had looked in those eyes as their final act on earth.
“You all come in now, make yourself at home,” she said, keeping her voice steady, composed. She pointed down at the sleeping bag. “I think we have enough beds and pull-outs for everyone. I don’t think you’ll need that.”
No one moved, and Danny wouldn’t even look at her. Amé did, but it was impossible to guess what she was thinking.
Mel tried again, this time forcing a smile she didn’t feel. She couldn’t take her eyes off the girl, Zita. Why on earth had they brought her here? Had they all lost their minds? “C’mon, let’s get you inside. I’m grabbing a few more things for Jack, and then we’ll be clearing out of here. The house is yours.”
Finally, Danny tried something: “Thank you, ma’am, we’re—”
She stopped him. “It’s okay, Deputy Ford. Just fine. Just give me back my house the way you found it, unless you want to do some cleaning or fix that leaky faucet in the kitchen. That would be great.”
She held the door wide for them, and went to get Chris.
FORTY-SIX
About once a month, Chris would drive out to the place Sheriff Ross had called El Dorado.