The Triggerman Dance

The laughter was immeasurably polite and John could feel the anguish behind it. He tried to imagine Carolyn whole. He also saw a darkness pass behind Holt's gray eyes, a darkness that seemed familiar and known, a part of him.

"I had something funny happen down in Texas a few months back. Didn't tell any of you about it. Wanted to mull it over. Well, it's been mulled. They found a spot on a scan, then a bunch more. No reason to get into detail. Biopsy, all that. The upshot is it's been in there a while, in the system, doing what life does. I'll be pushing up weeds here on Liberty Ridge inside a year, if the doctors are right. Feel pretty good all around, actually."

Carolyn clutched John's arm with surprising strength. He looked at Valerie, whose powerful glow diminished while he watched. Her mouth parted just slightly.

"No," Holt said. "Don't say a word. Nobody. We've got months until good-bye and I hate good-byes. You all know that. I'm just getting out the facts. No use hiding them. I don't want tears and I don't want special treatment. Least of all I want is pity. It's insulting. Anybody can't handle this can get up and leave the table now. I mean it."

In the silence that followed John heard the slap of the canvas over them and the hiss from the hills around them. Valerie's face had gone slack, her lips parted in astonishment.

Carolyn smiled, not understanding.

Scott sat with his arms crossed, expressionless.

Thurmond Messinger looked at his plate; Laura had taken his arm in both her hands.

Adam Sexton slouched in his seat, but his eyes were resolutely fixed on Holt.

It was Fargo who surprised him. The dark man in his shrunken-head jacket was scanning the faces around him, as if much more interested in reactions to the news than the news itself. His eyebrows were raised in a thin attempt at alarm. His gaze came to John. It was frank and probing, maybe even a little amused.

And John realized: Fargo knew. No surprise in his face, no befuddlement or sadness, not the slightest hint of shock. Fargo knew. John held the curious stare until it moved on.

He felt Valerie's fingers digging into the flesh of his palm.

"Now," said Holt. "Main reason I bother you all with this is that things are going to change. We've got a nice little empire here and I want it run right when I'm gone. I want things understood. I want things clear. One—Valerie, I've been trying to get you into Liberty Ops for a while now. Especially since you got out of school. I'm asking you again, right here and now, to think about it. Think hard. I want you in charge someday soon. Two—Laura and Thur, Adam, keep on doing what you do best. You're our glitter and our gold. You're the people to answer the world for us. I'm asking you to work with Valerie, when that time comes. Three—Lane, I'd take you to the grave with me but I think you might get cold. You're the best friend a man could have. I'm thanking you for everything you've ever done for me. I needed you for everything on Liberty Ridge. You watched my back. Kicked butt when you needed to. I don't know if anyone here appreciates all we've been through together. I don't know if you'll even want to be here when I'm gone. We have some time to ponder that. But you will be well taken care of, when the time comes. Taken care of very well. I've already started putting some of this organizational stuff in writing. I'll finish it, soon. We'll need some law for this company, just like the country does."

John looked at Fargo again. Things were beginning to make sense: Lane was going to get his walking papers when Holt died. Fargo was nodding with approval, smiling slightly, as if basking in the glow of Holt's praise. But his eyes peered into deep space while the smile just stayed in place, preserved by effort.

"Oh, go Vanny go."