Page 75 of South of Nowhere

“Appreciate the offer. With all due respect, I hope I don’t have to take you up on it.”

“With all due respect, so do I.”

32.

As Colter Shaw parked his bike near the command post, he noted that Officer Debi Starr had risen from the table and was walking to him.

“Hey, Mr. Shaw.”

“ ‘Colter,’ remember.”

“Oh, right.” That bashful look again. “Colter. You find anything at the farm or mine?”

“A few things. I’m going to tell the crew.” He nodded toward the tent.

“Sure. Just wanted to catch you here first. Just me. Mayor Tolifson’s kind of new to this business. He’s learning a mile a minute. But he was talking about getting a warrant if it looked like Ms. Coyne or Mr. Redding had started prepping for the flood before they learned about the levee collapse.”

He said, “There’d be no basis for a warrant. No exigent circumstances, no probable cause.”

“Oh, you know about that?” She looked relieved.

“I was thinking of being a lawyer. I read a lot on the subject growing up.”

“You read…what, like Perry Mason?”

“No, law books.”

When Ashton and Mary Dove fled the Bay Area the most well-represented items in the rental truck were books, including an entire set of Supreme Court and Ninth Circuit—the federal appeals court that embraced California—decisions.

She snickered. “Reading books like those growing up? Surprised you didn’t spend your time on a team. And dating.” A smile.

“I was homeschooled. No team, and a half-hour drive on mountain roads to get to the closest girl.”

“Gotcha. Well, just didn’t want us to go approaching Magistrate Dundee with a funky piece of paper. That man does not take kindly to those who don’t do their homework. He will cut your legs right out from underneath you.”

“I think we’re pre-warrant, Officer. I’m curious. Is policing in your blood?”

“No. Outlawing is.”

“Not an admission you hear much.”

“I’m descended from Belle Starr. Not a hundred percent sure but the locales and family trees line up. Besides I’m claiming it ’cause I want to. And the twins get some mileage out of their mom being related to a bandit out of the Old West.”

“I’ve heard of her.” Shaw knew about Starr from Ashton, who read the children books on American history—the gospel and the unorthodox. He recalled Starr was a larcenous, rather than murderous, outlaw who had a winning sense of style, wearing velvet riding gear and a plumed hat. She carried two pistols and was a good shot. Her violent death remained unsolved, though a romantic triangle was likely involved.

He told her about his own connection with early America. “I was named after John Colter, a pioneer explorer and mountain man. Dorion—it’s spelled D-o-r-i-o-n—her namesake is Marie Aioe Dorion, supposedly the first mountain woman. Our older brotherRussell’s named after Osborne Russell. He was among the first settlers in Oregon.”

She tsk’ed her tongue. “Any stinkers give you trouble for your collective ancestors’ less-than-correct history?”

“I personally didn’t abscond with anybody’s land. And if someone’s upset because of a name I didn’t give myself, that’s their burden.”

“I like your attitude, Colter.”

In the tent Tolifson, Dorion and Olsen looked up at him as they entered. TC McGuire and Gutiérrez were not present; they were on evac detail.

He glanced at the levee. No, it wasn’t his imagination. It was definitely thinner. And beginning to look fragile.

“Our friend Katz call? From the electronic, not the potato, chip company. With bags of cash?”

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