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It wasn’t intended as a compliment; I was only telling him the truth. Still, his expression softened just a bit. “My deputies and I went over the area, true.” He seemed to take in my dripping clothes for the first time and added, “You need to get out of those wet things. My house is only about five minutes away — I can take you over there to get dried off.”
Under most circumstances, I would’ve been overjoyed to get an invitation to Calvin Standingbear’s house. As it was, I could tell he’d only decided to take pity on me, nothing more.
Still, I wasn’t about to turn down his offer.
“My car is parked over in the lot — ”I began, thinking I should offer some kind of token protest, but he shook his head.
“It’ll be fine. You can come back and get it when you’re ready.” A twinkle entered those dark eyes as he went on, “I’ll make sure no one writes you a ticket.”
Those words seemed to seal the deal. “Okay.”
I squelched along behind him as he led me through the trees and to a rough forest road a hundred yards or so away from the river. His white Durango waited there, and I climbed into the passenger seat after he opened the door for me.
Thank goodness the seats were leather. If they’d been cloth, they would have been as soaked as I was.
We rattled our way down the forest service road for a minute. To my surprise, we seemed to be heading deeper into the wilderness, rather than driving back out to the small lane that serviced the river recreation area.
Maybe I lifted my eyebrows or something. Whatever the reason for his response, Calvin said, “My place is kind of out in the middle of nowhere. Off-grid.”
That sort of setup seemed more plausible out in the wilds of southeastern Arizona than it would have back in Southern California. “What if there’s an emergency and someone needs to reach you?”
A faint smile touched his lips. “CB radio and satellite phone. And satellite for internet.”
Well, at least it didn’t sound as if he was being totally Amish or something. “I guess that could work.”
We drove along in silence after that, as the road got progressively rougher and I hung on to the door handle, trying not to wince every time we hit a particularly nasty rut. It didn’t help that I could feel my soggy jeans getting smashed against my rear end with every bump.
But, as he’d told me, although it seemed as though we’d been driving for much longer, it only took a few more minutes before he pulled off onto a lane marked “Private Property.” I hadn’t noticed any houses as we drove, so his comment about being in the middle of nowhere seemed to be only the truth.
The lane curved, and at the end of it stood masses of trees, cottonwoods and oaks and sycamores, and what I thought were poplars. All of them were bright with fresh spring-green leaves, sheltering a low, sprawling house built in what I thought was the typical Southwest pueblo style, with rounded edges and thick beams protruding from the sides of the structure. A little ways off was what looked like a detached garage with three bays.
Something about the place seemed to exude a sensation of peace, of harmony with nature and its surroundings. Despite my sodden clothes, my spirits lifted.
“I can get you some sweats to put on while we throw your clothes in the dryer,” he said as he got out of the SUV. “Maybe get you a cup of tea, too. You must be cold.”
Actually, I was. By that point, the sun had descended almost to the horizon. It would be full dark by the time I got back to my car.
That thought didn’t seem very confidence-inspiring, even though Calvin had told me it would be perfectly safe where it was.
“That sounds great,” I said, following him along a flagstone path that led through a nicely landscaped yard all done in native, drought-tolerant plants, with large sandstone boulders placed here and there to artistic effect. I wondered if he’d planted the yard or had someone design the layout for him. It seemed very professional.
The interior of the house was cool and smelled faintly of wood smoke. Not a lot of furniture, but all the pieces seemed to have been chosen to exactly fit the Southwest architecture — heavy oak and what I thought might be juniper, spare and simple, like a sun-bleached skull you might find in the desert.
“Hang on a sec,” Calvin told me. “I’ll go grab some sweats for you.”
“I promise I won’t sit down on anything,” I said, and he flashed me what looked like a genuine grin.
“Thanks.”
As I waited in the living room — he’d flicked on the lights, since it was already fairly dim inside — he headed down the hall, presumably to the bedroom. Part of me was dying to see what his room looked like, even as I told myself to stay where I was.
Besides, if I got really lucky, maybe someday I’d get to see that room for myself.
A minute later, he returned, carrying a pair of dark sweatpants and an oversized Arizona State University sweatshirt. “These will be huge on you,” he said, “but at least it’s something.”
“Thanks,” I replied as I took the sweats from him. “I’ll just roll up the sleeves.”
“The bathroom is down there,” he said, pointing.
