Page 60 of The River We Remember

Graff and Brody went together to make the arrest. Brody had called the Quinn home to find out if Noah Bluestone was working for them and, if so, where. Marta Quinn told him that Bluestone had requested the day off. She asked what it was about, and Brody said that he would explain to her later. Brody and Graff drove to the Bluestone farmstead in the cruiser. They spotted the couple in the field of amaranth, working together. The storm the night before had soaked the earth, and Brody and Graff followed in the couple’s clear footsteps to the place where husband and wife stood together with the old Saint Bernard sitting patiently beside them.

It was an uneventful arrest. This was many years before the Miranda decision made mandatory the reading of a suspect’s rights. Brody said simply, “Noah, I’ve got a warrant for your arrest for the murder of Jimmy Quinn. You ready to go with me?”

Bluestone said, “Can I change my clothes? I’m pretty dirty.”

Brody said, “Sure.”

The couple put their tools away in the barn and went into the house, accompanied by Brody and Graff. Brody was amazed at the calmness of the woman, who waited silently with them until her husband emerged from the bedroom in chinos and a white shirt and polished Red Wings. He kissed his wife and said, “You’ll take care of things?” She nodded and, tearless, walked beside him to the cruiser.

“Backseat, Noah.” Brody opened the door for him.

To Kyoko, Graff said, “Would you like to come?”

She shook her head.

Brody said to her, “He’ll need a lawyer.”

She stared at Brody as if she didn’t understand English, though he knew she did.

“All right, then,” Brody said. “Afternoon, Mrs. Bluestone.”

He’d just put Noah Bluestone in the back of the cruiser when he spotted a pickup approaching on the lane. The truck pulled to a stop and Gordon Landis got out, followed by two other men from town—Avery Simpson, who owned the hardware store, and Melvin Crabbe, who worked for the county driving snowplows in the winter and dump trucks the rest of the year. All three men carried rifles.

“Heard you came out to arrest the Indian,” Landis said. “We thought you might need a hand.”

Brody eyed their weapons, his jaw tight. “It’s been a peaceful arrest, Gordy,” he said trying to keep his anger under control. “You men can put those rifles away before you accidentally shoot someone.”

“Hell, someone’s already been shot,” Crabbe said. “Jimmy Quinn. We just want to make sure the redskin responsible don’t cause any more trouble.”

“I’ve got this in hand,” Brody said. “I want you all to return to that truck and go on back to town.”

“What about her?” Landis said. “She have any part in killing Jimmy?”

“Mrs. Bluestone is not a suspect, Gordy. Go on. Do like I told you. Just drive away.”

The three men didn’t move. Landis’s companions looked to him for some sign of what to do next. Finally, Landis said, “Come on, boys. We’ll leave the sheriff to his job. At least for now.”

Brody watched until they’d driven the full length of the lane and turned onto the main road. When he turned back, he saw the terror on Kyoko Bluestone’s face.

“It’s okay, Mrs. Bluestone,” he said. “I’ll see to it that those men don’t come back.” But even as he said it, he feared it was an empty promise.

Graff, who’d moved to stand near her when the men arrived, said, “Is there someone who can stay with you or that you can stay with?”

The woman shook her head. Then she seemed to reach deep inside herself and draw up steel from somewhere. She held herself erect and said, “I will be fine.”

“Good day, ma’am.” The deputy tipped his Stetson to her and joined Brody at the cruiser. “She’s hardly more than a kid,” he said quietly. “I don’t like the idea of leaving her alone here. Word’s already out that we’ve arrested Bluestone for killing Quinn. A lot of folks beside those three goons are going to get their hackles up.”

“What do you suggest?”

“We keep an eye on her, especially at night.”

“You volunteering, Connie?”

“I got nobody waiting for me at home.”

Brody gave a nod. “Don’t be obvious.”

“I’m nothing if not discreet.” Graff looked back at the small woman. “She’ll never know I’m watching.”