“I’m not surprised,” said Marshall.

  “I take it Ollie isn’t in camp.”

  “I haven’t checked,” said Marshall.

  “But you figure he’s gone.”

  Marshall didn’t say anything. Wasn’t about to admit anything to an outsider, Deaver figured. Well, that was proper. When the family’s in trouble, you got to be careful about trusting strangers.

  “I’ll do what I can,” said Deaver.

  “Thanks,” said Marshall. It was more than Deaver expected him to say. Maybe Marshall understood that things were bigger than Marshall could handle just by telling people off.

  Deaver walked along after the sheriff, and came up to him just as he was setting down his radio mouthpiece. The sheriff looked up at him, already looking for a quarrel. “What is it, range rider?”

  “My name’s Deaver Teague, Sheriff, and I’ve only been with the Aals since this morning, when they picked me up. But that was long enough to get to know them a little, and I got to tell you, I think they’re pretty good people.”

  “They’re all actors, son. That means they can seem to be anything they want.”

  “Yeah, they’re pretty good actors, aren’t they. That was some show, wasn’t it.”

  The sheriff smiled. “I never said they weren’t good actors.”

  Deaver smiled back. “They are good. I helped them set up today. They work real hard to put on that show. Did you ever try to lift a generator? Or put up those lights? Getting from a loaded truck to a show tonight—they put in an honest day’s work.”

  “Are you getting somewhere with this?” asked the sheriff.

  “I’m just telling you, they may not do farm work like most folks here in town, but it’s still real work. And it’s a good kind of work, I think. Didn’t you see the faces of those kids tonight, watching the show? You think they didn’t go home proud?”

  “Shoot, boy, I know they did. But these show people think they can come in here and screw around with the local girls and . . .” His voice trailed off. Deaver made sure not to interrupt him.

  “That man you talked to, Sheriff, this isn’t just his business, it’s his family, too. He’s got his wife and parents with him, and his sons and daughters. You got any children, Sheriff?”

  “Yes I do, but I don’t let them go off any which way like some people do.”

  “But sometimes kids do things their parents taught them not to do. Sometimes kids do something really bad, and it breaks their parents’ hearts. Not your kids, but maybe the Aals have a kid like that, and maybe Judge Pulley does too. And maybe when their kids are getting in trouble, people like the Aals and the Pulleys, they do anything they can to keep their kids out of trouble. Maybe they even pretend like anything their kid does, it was somebody else’s fault.”

  The sheriff nodded. “I see what you’re getting at, Mr. Teague. But that doesn’t change my job.”

  “Well what is your job, Sheriff? Is it putting good people out of work because they got a grown-up son they can’t handle? Is it causing Judge Pulley’s daughter to get her name dragged through the mud?”

  The sheriff sighed. “I don’t know why I started listening to you, Teague. I always heard you range riders never talked much.”

  “We save it all up for times like this.”

  “You got a plan, Teague? Cause I can’t just drive off and forget about this.”

  “You just go on and do what you got to do, Sheriff. But if it so happens that Nancy Pulley gets home safe and sound, then I hope you won’t do anything to hurt either one of these good families.”

  “So why didn’t that actor talk good sense like you instead of getting all hoity-toity with me?”

  Deaver just grinned. No use saying what he was thinking—that Marshall wouldn’t have gotten hoity-toity if the sheriff hadn’t treated him like he was already guilty of a dozen filthy crimes. It was good enough that the sheriff was seeing them more like ordinary folks. So Deaver patted the door of the car and walked on up the road toward the orchard. Now all Deaver had to do was find Ollie.

  It wasn’t hard. It was like they wanted to be found. They were in tall grass on the far side of the orchard. She was laughing. They didn’t hear Deaver coming, not till he was only about ten feet away. She was naked, lying on her dress spread out like a blanket under her. But Ollie still had his pants on, zipped tight. Deaver doubted the girl was a virgin, but at least it wasn’t Ollie’s fault. She was playing with his zipper when she happened to look up and see Deaver watching. She screeched and sat up, but she didn’t even try to cover herself. Ollie, though, he picked up his shirt and tried to cover her.

  “Your daddy’s looking for you,” Deaver said.

  She made her mouth into a pout. To her it was a game, and it didn’t matter that much to lose a round.

  “Do you think we care?” said Ollie.

  “Her daddy is the judge of this district, Ollie. Did she tell you that?”

  It was plain she hadn’t.

  “And I just got through talking to the sheriff. He’s looking for you, Ollie. So I think it’s time for Nancy to get her clothes back on.”

  Still pouting, she got up and started pulling her dress on over her head.

  “Better put on your underwear,” said Deaver. He didn’t want any evidence lying around.

  “She didn’t wear any,” said Ollie. “I wasn’t exactly corrupting the innocent.”

  She had her arms through the sleeves, and now she poked her head through the neck of her bunched-up dress and flashed a smile at Deaver. Her hips moved just a little, just enough to draw Deaver’s eyes there. Then she shimmied her dress down to cover her.

  “Like I told you,” said Ollie. “We men are just pumps with handles on them.”

  Deaver ignored him. “Get on home, Nancy. You need your rest—you’ve got a long career ahead of you.”

  “Are you calling me a whore?” she demanded.

  “Not while you’re still giving it away free,” said Deaver. “And if you have any idea about crying rape, remembered that there’s a witness who saw you taking down his zipper and laughing while you did it.”

  “As if Papa would believe you and not me!” But she turned and walked off into the trees. No doubt she knew all the paths home from this place.

  Ollie was standing there, making no move to put on his shirt or his shoes. “This was none of your business, Deaver.” It was light enough to see that Ollie was making fists. “You got no right to push me around.”

  “Come on, Ollie, let’s get back to the camp before the judge gets there with a warrant.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to.”

  Deaver didn’t want to argue about it. “Let’s go.”

  “Try and make me.”

  Deaver shook his head. Didn’t Ollie realize his fighting words were straight out of third-grade recess?

  “Come on, Deaver,” Ollie taunted. “You said you were going to protect the family from nasty little Ollie, so do it. Break all my ribs. Cut me up in little pieces and carry me home. Don’t you carry a knife in your big old ranger boots? Isn’t that how big tough strong guys like you get other people to do whatever you say?”

  Deaver was fed up. “Act like a man, Ollie. Or don’t you have enough of the family talent to fake decency?”

  Ollie lost his cockiness and his swagger all at once. He charged at Deaver, flailing both arms in blind rage. It was plain he meant to do a lot of damage. It was also plain he had no idea how to go about doing it. Deaver caught him by one arm and flung him aside. Ollie sprawled on the ground. Poor kid, thought Deaver. Traveling with this pageant wagon all his life, he never even learned how to land a punch.

  But Ollie wasn’t done. He got up and charged again, and this time a couple of his blows did connect. Nothing bad, but it hurt, and Deaver threw him down harder. Ollie landed wrong on his wrist and cried out with pain. But he was so angry he still got up again, this time striking out with only his right hand, and when he got in close he swung his head from side to side trying to butt Deaver in the face, and when Deaver got hold of his arms Ollie kicked him, tried to knee him in the groin, until finally Deaver had to let go of him and punch him hard in the stomach. Ollie collapsed to his knees and threw up.

  The whole time, Deaver never got mad. He couldn’t think why—rage had been close to the surface all day, and yet now, when he was really fighting somebody, there was nothing. Just a cold desire to get through with the fighting and get Ollie home.

  Maybe it was because he’d already used up his anger on Katie. Maybe that was it.

  Ollie was finished vomiting. He picked up his shirt and wiped off his mouth.

  “Come on back to camp now,” said Deaver.

  “No,” said Ollie.

  “Ollie, I don’t want to fight you anymore.”

  “Then go away and leave me alone.”

  Deaver bent over to help him to his feet. Ollie jabbed an elbow into Deaver’s thigh. It hurt. Deaver was pretty sure Ollie meant to get him in the crotch. This boy didn’t seem to know when he was beat.

  “I’m not going back!” said Ollie. “And even if you knock me out and carry me back, I’ll tell the sheriff all about the judge’s daughter, I’ll tell him I balled her brains out!”

  That was about the stupidest, meanest thing Deaver ever heard. For a second he wanted to kick Ollie in the head, just to bounce things around a little inside. But he was sick of hurting Ollie, so he just stood there and asked, “Why?”

  “Because you were right, Deaver, I thought about it and you were right, I do want to get away from my family. But I don’t want you to take my place. I don’t want anybody to take my place. I don’t want anybody to have a place. I want the whole show closed down. I want Father to be a dirt farmer instead of bossing people around all the time. I want perfect little Toolie up to his armpits in pigshit. You understand me, Deaver?”

  Deaver looked at him kneeling there, a puddle of puke in front of him in the grass, holding his hurt wrist like a little boy, telling Deaver that he wanted to destroy his own family. “You’re the kind of son who doesn’t deserve to have parents.”

  Ollie was crying now, his face twisted up and his voice highpitched and breaking, but that didn’t stop him from answering. “That’s right, Deaver, O great judge of the earth! I sure as hell don’t deserve these parents. Mommy who keeps telling me I’m ‘just like Royal’ till I want to reach down her throat and tear her heart out. And Daddy who decided I didn’t have enough talent so I was the one who had to do all the technical work for the show while Toolie got to learn all the parts so someday he’d take Daddy’s place and run the company and tell me what to do every day of my life until I die! Well, the joke’s on Toolie, isn’t it? Cause Daddy’s never going to give up his place in the company, he’s never going to take over the old man parts and let Grandpa retire, because then Toolie would be the leading actor and Toolie would run the company and poor Daddy wouldn’t be boss of the universe anymore. So Toolie’s going to keep on playing the juvenile parts until he’s eighty and Daddy’s a hundred and ten because Daddy won’t ever step aside, he won’t even die, he’ll just keep on running everybody like puppets until finally somebody gets up the guts to kill him or quit. So don’t give me any shit about what I deserve, Deaver.”

  A lot of things were suddenly making sense now. Why Marshall wouldn’t let Parley retire. Why Marshall came down so hard on Toolie, kept telling him that he wasn’t ready to make decisions. Because Ollie was right. Their places in the show set the order of the family. Whoever had the leading role was head of the company and therefore head of the family. Marshall couldn’t give it up.

  “I never realized how bad I wanted to get out of this family till you said what you said tonight, Deaver, but then I knew that getting out isn’t enough. Because they’d just find somebody to take my place. Maybe you. Or maybe Dusty. Somebody, anyway, and the pageant wagon would go on and on and I want it to stop. Take away Father’s license, that’s the only way to stop him. Or no, I’ve got a better way. I’ll go shoot my Uncle Royal. I’ll take a shotgun and blast his head off and then Daddy can retire. That’s the only reason he can’t let go of anything, because Royal’s in charge of the outriders, Royal’s the biggest hero in Deseret, so Daddy can’t bear to let himself shrink even the teensiest bit, even if it wrecks everybody’s life because my father is just as selfish and rotten as Uncle Royal ever was.”

  Deaver didn’t know what to say. It all sounded true, and yet at the core of it, it wasn’t true at all. “No he isn’t,” Deaver said.

  “How would you know! You’ve never had to live with him. You don’t know what it’s like being a nothing in this family while he’s always sitting in judgment on you and you can never measure up, you’re never good enough.”

  “At least he didn’t leave you,” said Deaver.

  “I wish he had!”

  “No you don’t,” said Deaver.

  “Yes I do!”

  “I’m telling you, Ollie,” Deaver said softly. “I’ve seen how your father is and how your mother is and they look pretty good to me, compared.”

  “Compared to what,” said Ollie scornfully.

  “Compared to nothing.”

  The words hung there in the air, or so it felt to Deaver. Like he could see his own words, could hear them in his own ears as if somebody else said them. He wasn’t talking to Ollie now, he was talking to himself. Ollie really did need to get free. His parents really were terrible for him, Ollie hated his place in the family and it wasn’t right to force him to stay in it. But Deaver wasn’t a son in this family. He never was, he never would be. So he could do Ollie’s job and never feel the same kind of hurt at not being the chosen son. The bad things in the family would never touch him, not the way they touched Ollie—but the good things, Deaver could still have some of those. Being part of a company that needed him. Helping put on shows that changed people. Living with people that you knew would be there tomorrow and the next day, even if all the rest of the world changed around you.

  What Deaver realized then was that he really did want Ollie to leave, not so Deaver could take Ollie’s place, but so he could have a chance to make his own place among the Aals. Not so he could have Katie, he realized now, or at least not so he could have Katie in particular. He wanted to have them all. Father and mother, grandfather and grandmother, brothers and sisters. Someday children. To be part of that vast web reaching back into the past farther than anybody could remember and down into the future farther than anybody could dream. Ollie had grown up in it, so all he wanted to do was get away—but he’d find out soon enough that he could never get away, not really. Just like Royal, he’d find that the web held firm, for good or ill. Even if you try to hurt them, even if you cut them to the heart, your own people never stop being your own people. They still care about you more than anyone else, you still matter to them more, the web still holds you, so that Royal might have a million people adoring him, but none of them knew him as well, none of them cared about him as much as his brother Marshall, his sister-in-law Scarlett, his old parents Parley and Donna.

  Deaver knew what he had to do. It was so plain he wondered why he never saw it before.

  “Ollie, come back to camp tonight, and spend tomorrow teaching me everything you can about your job. Then when we get to Moab, I’ll take you in and transfer my outrider application rights to you.”

  Ollie laughed. “I’ve never ridden a horse in my life.”

  “Maybe not,” said Deaver. “But Royal Aal is your uncle, and he owes the life of his wife and children to your father. Maybe there’s too much bad blood between them for them ever to talk to each other again, but if Royal Aal is any kind of man at all, he’ll feel a debt.”

  “I don’t want anybody taking me on because they owe my father something.”

  “Hell, Ollie, do you think somebody’s going to take you on cause you look so good? Try it out. See if you like being away from the pageant wagon. If you want to come back, fine. If you want to go on somewhere else, fine. I’m giving you a chance.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re giving me a chance.”

  “Do you think Father would ever let you be part of the company, if you helped me sneak away?”

  “I’m not talking about sneaking away. I’m talking about walking away, standing up, no hard feelings. You doing no harm to the company cause I’m there to do your jobs. Them doing no harm to you because you’re still family even if you aren’t part of the show anymore. That’s what I think is wrong with all of you. You can’t tell where the show leaves off and the family begins.”

  Ollie stood up, slowly. “You’d do that for me?”

  “Sure,” said Deaver. “Beat you up, give you application rights, whatever you want. Just come on back to camp, Ollie. We can talk it over with your father tomorrow.”

  “No,” said Ollie. “I want his answer tonight. Now.”

  Only now, with Ollie standing up, could Deaver see his eyes clearly enough to realize that he wasn’t looking at Deaver at all. He was looking past him, looking at something behind him. Deaver turned. Marshall Aal was standing there, maybe fifteen yards back, mostly in the shadow of the trees. Now that Deaver had seen him, Marshall stepped out into the moonlight. His face was terrible, a mix of grief and rage and love that about tore Deaver’s heart out with pity even though it also made him afraid.

  “I knew you were there, Father,” said Ollie. “I knew it the whole time. I wanted you to hear it all.”

  Well then what the hell was I doing here, thought Deaver. What difference did I make, if Ollie was really talking to his father all along? All I was good for was talking sense to the sheriff and punching Ollie in the belly so he’d puke his guts out. Well, glad to oblige.

  They didn’t pay any attention to him. They just stood there, looked at each other, till Deaver figured that it wasn’t any of his business anymore. What was going on now wasn’t about Deaver Teague, it was about Marshall and Ollie, and Deaver wasn’t part of the family. Not yet, anyway.