Divorce Horse

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It was Memorial Day weekend, and I was having dinner with my best friend, Henry Standing Bear, and my daughter Cady at the Busy Bee Cafe. Still convalescing from my experiences chasing after escaped convicts in the Bighorn Mountains, I fingered the oversize ring on my thumb and watched the turquoise wolves chase the coral ones on the silver band; then I plucked it off and stuffed it in my shirt pocket under my badge.

I’d been sheriffing solo since my deputy, Victoria Moretti, had flown back to Philadelphia for the long weekend to help with the upcoming wedding arrangements on that end. Cady was marrying Vic’s brother Michael at the end of July, and Vic was consulting with her mother Lena about the nuptials. It was complicated. Boy howdy.

Generally, Cady and Vic just shared a cup of coffee in the Denver airport as they traded time zones during their assorted holiday layovers, but on this stint they’d had a little more time to talk, since Cady had driven Vic to the airport in Billings. They’d engaged in what I’d feared-a wide-ranging conversation.

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