In Plain Sight

“We’ve got ten minutes before I need to be back at the opening,” the governor said, roaring out of the parking lot and onto Main Street, making the turn on what felt to Joe like two wheels. “Then I’ve got to take the plane back to Cheyenne right afterward. A pack of snarling Feds are coming to meet with me at four o’clock about the wolf issue. They’re like hyenas when they smell blood, and since we lost that court case they’re circling what they think is a dying corpse. But we’re not dead yet. We’ll win.” He shook his head in disgust. “Feds,” he spat.

Joe fumbled for the seat belt and snapped it on securely. He shot a glance back at Marybeth in the back seat, who was doing the same thing.

Rulon looked over at Joe and flashed on his full-blast smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Joe Pickett.”

“Likewise,” Joe said, shaking the governor’s proffered hand while, at the same time, glancing out the windshield as they drove through a red light. Luckily, there was no cross traffic at the moment.

“I’ve been wanting to meet you.”

Joe couldn’t think of how to respond, so he didn’t.

“How is that Scarlett situation going up here?”

“Not well,” Joe said.

“You know Arlen’s the majority floor leader, right?”

Joe nodded, trying to keep up.

“He explained everything to me after the session. About his brother and all. What a clusterfuck that is, eh?” Then he glanced in the rearview mirror and said, “Sorry for the inappropriate language, ma’am.”

“It’s quite all right,” Marybeth said. “It’s a perfect description.”

“JESUS CHRIST!” the governor howled, hitting the brakes. “Did I just drive through a red light back there?”

Joe said, “Yes. It’s our only one.”

“Then why the hell didn’t you say something?” Rulon asked. “Why did you just sit there and watch me do it? And when did Saddlestring get a light?”

“We were through it before I could say anything.”

“Don’t let me do that again.”

Joe snorted. “I’ll do my best, sir.”

“I’m still getting used to my new ride,” Rulon said, patting the dashboard as if it were the head of a dog. “Pretty nice, eh? It gets twelve miles a gallon, a real gas-guzzler. A couple of my supporters asked me how I could drive a car like this when I’m a Democrat and I’m for energy conservation and the like. I explained to them I’m a Wyoming Democrat, which means I’m a Republican who just wants to be different and stand out from the crowd, and we’ve got a hell of a lot of oil in this state we want to sell at high prices. Besides, it’s comfortable, ain’t it?”

Joe nodded, wishing the governor had not fired his driver.

“You should see the state plane. It’s really a dandy. I didn’t think I’d use it much, but this state is so damned big it’s really a blessing.”

“I can imagine.”

“So, I’ve got a question for you,” Rulon said. “An important question I’ve been wanting to ask you since I got this job.”

Joe was surprised the governor even knew of him, much less actually thought about him.

“What’s it like working for Randy Pope?”

Joe thought, uh-oh. He did not want to be put in the position of talking about his boss to the governor. Besides, what Joe thought was no secret. His allegations about Pope were in the report he had submitted after he returned from Jackson Hole.

“Actually, that’s not the question,” Rulon continued. “That’s a question. The question is still to come.”

As he said it, he rolled down his window again and shouted at a woman carrying groceries from her car toward the door of her town house.

“Hey, you want some help?” he shouted at her. “I can send over a trooper if you do!”

She turned on the walk and grinned. “I’m fine, Governor,” she said.

“Hell, I can give you a hand myself. Do you have any more bags in the car?”

“No.”

“You’re sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“Have a good day, then, ma’am.”

He powered the window back up. “I do enjoy being the governor,” he said. Then: “Where were we?”

Joe gestured toward the digital clock on the dashboard of the Yukon. “We all probably ought to get back.”

“You’re right,” Rulon said.

And he stopped in the middle of the road, did a three-point turn through both lanes, and roared back down Main toward the museum.

“That was an illegal turn,” Joe said.

“Screw it,” Rulon said, shrugging, picking at something caught in his teeth. “I’m the governor.”

RULON STOPPED PARALLEL to Joe’s pickup in the parking lot.

“What a piece of crap,” Rulon said, looking at Joe’s vehicle. “They give you that to drive around in? It’s an embarrassment!”

“My last truck burned up,” Joe said, not wanting to explain.

Rulon smiled. “I heard about that. Ha! I also heard you shot Smoke Van Horn in a gunfight.”

Joe paused before opening the door. “You said you had a question for me.”

Rulon nodded, and his demeanor changed. He was suddenly serious and his eyes narrowed as if he were sizing up Joe for the first time.

“I’ve followed your career,” Rulon said.

“You have?” Joe was genuinely surprised.