Chapter 3
290 Words
3
“You want to go to Baxters,” Sheriff Hoyt told Travis the following morning. “Get yourself some proper gear.”
Travis showed up for their meeting wearing his everyday clothes: khaki cotton trousers, scuffed loafers, a light brown corduroy jacket over a dark brown sweater Rosie had packed him against the chill.
“Set to snow tonight or tomorrow,” Sheriff Hoyt warned him. “I don’t want to have to carry you down dead.”
“Isn’t it early for snow?” Travis asked. It was only the second week in October.
“Won’t be the first time,” Sheriff Hoyt said.
Travis discussed with the sheriff the various witnesses who had seen the lights up on the ridge. He made a list with their names and addresses.
“That Parnell,” Sheriff Hoyt said, referring to a rancher outside Cortez who was one of the first to call it in. “He’s solid. No drinking, a straight shooter. Might want to talk to him first. Get the lay of the land.”
Travis stopped in to Baxters first to buy thermal underwear and wool socks. Even though he assumed Dr. Linsk would put in for reimbursement from the government, Travis was afraid to overspend.
The truth was he’d rushed out of his house the previous morning not only without proper boots, but also without a proper winter coat. He needed both if it really was going to snow. At the last minute he threw in heavy gloves, too.
Wincing as he did it, Travis forked over the cash to the Baxters’ cashier. He made sure to get a receipt. Then to compensate for his extravagance, he picked up two jelly donuts at a coffee shop nearby, planning on eating one of them as his lunch.
He gassed up the used but reliable Rambler station wagon and drove out to Bart Parnell’s place.
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