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“Not bad,” Ferg said. “Looks to me like a forty-seven Buick Super. Is that right?”
“I don’t know,” Rose said. “I was never told. But it’s been well maintained. It runs fine. The key’s in the ignition, if you want to try it out.”
“Since I wouldn’t be driving it much, that’s not an issue,” Ferg said. “The body looks to be in decent condition. Has it been restored?”
“I don’t know for sure, but I think so.”
“And the interior?”
“The same.”
“If it was all original, the car would be a treasure,” Ferg said. “Restored, I can offer you eight thousand cash.”
Eight thousand. Not as much she’d hoped for but enough for what she needed. “I got the car in Mexico,” she said. “There’s no title.”
“I can take care of that,” he said. “I took the liberty of drawing up a bill of sale. When we’ve filled in the blanks and you’ve signed it, the money’s yours. Do we have a deal?” He held out his hand.
Rose returned the handshake. His palm was smooth and cool, his clasp businesslike. She didn’t trust the man or his son, but she needed the money to carry out her plan. She had little choice except to gamble that Ferg was playing straight with her.
Back in his office, they signed duplicate copies of the bill of sale. Ferg counted out hundred-dollar bills from a strongbox in his desk, slipped them into a manila envelope, and handed them to Rose. The leaden eyes that met hers were flat and unreadable.
“You can count it again if you want,” he said.
“I watched you count it. That’s good enough.” Rose jammed the envelope into the hip pocket of her jeans. All she wanted to do was get out of there. But first she needed another favor.
“If you’d like to drink to our bargain, I’ve got some excellent Kentucky bourbon in my liquor cabinet,” Ferg said as they walked back into the living room.
“Thanks, but I’ve done what I came for. Now I need to get going.”
His smile was razor thin. “Another time, then. I can have somebody drive you back to the Rimrock.”
“I’ll do it.” Garn had joined them again. His father ignored him.
“Thanks,” Rose said, “but what I need now is to buy another vehicle. Is there anything like a used car lot in town?”
“The man who runs the garage usually has a few out back for sale, or he can tell you who else is selling one,” Ferg said. “I can’t vouch for his honesty. If you find one you like, you’ll want to have a man check it out for you.”
“I know enough about cars,” Rose said. “All I need is a ride to town.”
“I can drive her,” Garn said.
Again, Ferg ignored his son’s offer. “McCade’s around,” he said. “Go find him, Garn. Tell him he can take the new truck. The keys are on the hook by the door.”
Garn’s expression soured, but he did as he was told, hooking the key ring with a finger as he strode out the front door, leaving Rose alone with Ferg.
She stirred uncomfortably. “You must have things to do,” she said. “I can wait for my ride on the porch.”
Ferg gave her a smile. “That’s fine. But know that you can call on me anytime, for anything you need. Consider me your friend, Miss Landro. And trust me when I say that I can do more for you than Bull Tyler can.”
“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” Rose started for the door, then paused. “How did you know me and know about my car?”
He smiled again. “No mystery. One of my hands saw you this morning. When he described you, I knew who he was talking about. And when he mentioned the car, I knew that I wanted to see it for myself. Does that answer your question?”
“I suppose so.” Rose remembered the feeling she’d had that someone was watching her. She’d learned to trust her instincts. This time they must’ve been spot-on. “I’ll let you get back to work,” she said, moving toward the door.
“Good luck finding your vehicle. If you need anything else, let me know.” With that, he vanished into the shadowed hallway.
Rose walked onto the porch, closing the door behind her. Leaning on the rail, she gazed across the distance at the russet cliffs of the escarpment that jutted skyward along the west boundary of the Rimrock. Two vultures circled above the foothills, riding on the warm spring updrafts.
