Bitterroot (Billy Bob Holland 3)

Dear Maysy,

I saw Mr. Holland shoot at Wyatt. Wyatt was running a chain saw and couldn't hear the shots. So I told him what I saw. You need to get away from Mr. Holland. We could go to Idaho or to the rain forest in Washington. I know how to build a cabin and to hunt and fish. What do you think? Meet me outside our place on Front Street at 8 tonite.

Your friend, Terry

"'Our place'?" I said.

"He must mean the bar where I met him. What a loser."

"Has your dad seen this?"

"Not yet. He went to the feed store. What does he mean you shot at Wyatt Dixon?"

"Witherspoon has probably been eating mushrooms," I said.

But I didn't fool her. She put her hands on her hips, her eyes boring in on me.

"Have you lost your mind, Billy Bob?"

"Don't underestimate the value of mental illness. It makes life a lot easier," I said.

"I thought my father was uncontrollable. You two guys are beyond belief," she said. She shook her head despairingly, tapping her toe, her mouth screwed into a button.

But THINGS were just warming up. A half hour later I saw Nicki Molinari's maroon convertible tearing through the field behind Doc's house, the top down, with Molinari behind the wheel and his second baseman, the man called Frank, next to him. Frank looked like a seven-foot cadaver propped up in the seat.

Molinari got out of the car and left the door hanging open, the engine still running, and jabbed his finger at me.

"I'm about an inch from creating one less lawyer in Missoula, Montana," he said.

"Oh?" I said.

"I'm eating breakfast in a cafe this morning and this rodeo psycho, what's-his-name, Wyatt Dixon, comes in and stands there, leering down at me with this twisted smile on his mouth. I go, 'You got a problem?' He goes, 'I've got it on high authority your friend Mr. Holland took some shots at me. Could it be you was involved with a c

owardly action like that, sir?'

"I go, 'What are you talking about? And stop calling me sir.'

"He says, 'I seen one of your men bird-dogging me. Which made me wonder if you and Mr. Holland is working together. All these people is waiting for your response, sir.'

"I go, 'No, I don't know nothing about people shooting at you. So get away from my table, you crazy fuck.'

"He goes, 'You are a war hero, sir. I have driven by your home many times. I have seen the batting cage in your barn and the beautiful women that swims in your pool. I would like to model my life on yours but I am only a humble cowboy. You, sir, are a credit to the Italian race.'"

I waited for Molinari to continue.

"Are you listening?" he said.

"Yeah. So why are you out here?"

His face blanched with anger.

"You're playing with this guy's head. I'm a businessman. I got this shitkicker meltdown 'fronting me in public. I don't need that kind of publicity."

"Why did he put you and me together?"

"He's con-wise. He knows we've both been involved with the skank. Hey, bottom line, my man, he's nuts."

"Nice of you to come out," I said.