Breaking Point

WALKED his horse over to his team to get them ready, Joe dismounted and walked to the black state Suburban. He found Governor Rulon slouched in the driver’s seat, shaking his head. When Joe peered inside to locate his boss, Rulon said, “She’s not here. She’s up in the tent apologizing to Juan Julio What’s-His-Face for my racist outburst.”
    Joe grunted.
    “I wasn’t expecting that,” Rulon said. “It took the wind out of my sails. He’s a cunning little bastard. I would have thought these imperial Feds wouldn’t be used to seeing a governor yelling into their faces, but I was wrong.
    “And to play the race card like that . . . It’s the lowest form of debate, because it just closes the subject down. And it’s
not true
. I don’t hate Hispanics. I hate federal brownshirt
thugs named Juan Julio Batista
.”
    “Governor?” Joe interrupted. “Can I ask you a question?”
    Rulon looked over wearily. “Shoot. I’ve never lied to you.”
    Joe hesitated, and Rulon smiled and said, “Well, not much.”
    “Anyway, what I was wondering is . . .”
    “Why I hired her,” Rulon said, finishing the wrong question. But Joe wanted to hear the answer anyway.
    “I was pressured into it. But don’t quote me.”
    “I won’t,” Joe said. “We had breakfast this morning. Then she came on a ride-along.”
    Rulon laughed and thumped the steering wheel with the heel of his hand. His usual buoyant mood returned. “I heard about that. She’s still a little stunned. Bear spray, Joe?”
    “It works.”
    “So I take it. Anyway, she’s got some notions, I hear,” he said. “She thinks you and your kind are too inbred. She thinks you’ve all gone native out here—too close to the locals.”
    Joe nodded.
    “Have you?”
    “I don’t think so,” Joe said. “We’re like local beat cops, is the way I think about it. We know the people, so we can do our jobs better.”
    Rulon nodded, and said, “‘Government closest to the people governs best,’ some wise man once said. Do you agree?”
    “I guess I do.”
    “So do I,” Rulon said with finality. Then: “Next question?”
    Joe hesitated, then said, “She told me you approved her lending me out on this investigation, that it was my duty to assist the best I can.”
    Rulon raised his eyebrows and said, “So?”
    “I’m not sure I can do it,” Joe said, surprising even himself with the words. “I know Butch Roberson. I’m not sure I can go along with this the way they’re doing it.”
    “Why? Do you think he’s innocent? Isn’t this
exactly
what LGD is afraid of?”
    Joe shook his head. “I don’t think he’s innocent. Not from what I know.”
    “Then what’s the problem?”
    Joe felt tongue-tied. After a beat, he said, “I’m just not sure how much longer I can keep doing this.”
    “What? Being a game warden?”
    “Being a state employee,” Joe said. “She offered me a desk job in Cheyenne. I’ve never worked behind a desk before.”
    Rulon, for once, didn’t fire another question. Instead he said, “Do what’s right, Joe. That’s what you’re good at. This is your decision.”
    Joe waited for more that didn’t come. He wasn’t sure what that would be, though.
    Rulon, as he usually did, changed the subject again. “We’ve had a couple of interesting adventures together, haven’t we, Joe?”
    “Yup.”
    “I thought for a while there you were going to lose me my job,” Rulon said. “You just have a knack for getting right into the middle of trouble, don’t you?”
    Joe nodded. He said, “Marybeth says I have a singular skill in that regard.”
    “She’s smart and too good-looking for you,” Rulon said. “You don’t deserve her.”
    “I know that.”
    “What about your friend, the maniac? That stone-cold killer with the falcons you hang around with? What’s he think about all this?” Rulon said, knowing Joe didn’t like to talk about Nate Romanowski.
    “I haven’t heard from him,” Joe said. “But I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t like it.”
    “So you haven’t been in touch since that trouble last year,” Rulon said, and nodded. “That’s probably good for you. You wouldn’t want to be aiding and abetting a known fugitive.”
    Joe shifted uncomfortably.
    “Maybe I need some guys like that on my team,” Rulon mused, and gestured toward the FOB. “I could use some real muscle dealing with this tyrant Batista.”
    Joe looked up, puzzled. He wasn’t sure if Rulon was serious.
    “What’s going