Part 20 (1/2)
”Whatever it is, it sure's shaped shaped like a hat,” he said, glancing down at it. like a hat,” he said, glancing down at it.
”Well, they didn't mention any brand of headware besides a Stetson per se,” per se,” she said, and smiled. ”Why don't you go ahead and see if this makes a decent subst.i.tute.” she said, and smiled. ”Why don't you go ahead and see if this makes a decent subst.i.tute.”
His brows furrowing, he removed the tissue paper.
And audibly gasped.
The acorn-ended campaign hat was old and battered almost to shapelessness, its gray felt balding in spots, its black leather chin strap scuffed and gnarled. But its gold-and-black intertwined-braid hat cord and the silk ribbon around its crown were almost perfectly intact--as were the crossed gold cavalry sabers pinned to the side of its upturned brim.
He looked up at her. ”Don' let me make a fool a' myself by sayin' what I think think it is an' bein' wrong.” it is an' bein' wrong.”
”You wouldn't be,” she said. ”It belonged to my great-grandfather. He was one of Teddy Roosevelt's First Volunteer Cavalry.”
”Mon Dieu.” He ran his fingers over the outside of the hat with open awe. ”The Rough Riders.” He ran his fingers over the outside of the hat with open awe. ”The Rough Riders.”
She nodded. ” 'Far better it is to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs, even though checkered by failure, than to rank with those poor spirits who neither suffer much nor enjoy much--”
”--'cause they live in the gray twilight that knows neither victory nor defeat,' ” Thibodeau finished. ”I don' know what to say about this, Megan. I truly don't.”
She smiled.
”Taylor Breen went from holding a racket on the tennis court to a rifle on Kettle Hill in the s.p.a.ce of six months. Joined the unit at TD's personal request, took a leave of absence of his professors.h.i.+p at Yale to go to war against Spain.” She paused a moment, quietly watching him. ”Rollie ... I've got my own request goes along with the hat. I won't pressure you to agree to it. But I'd like your decision now.”
He met her eyes with his own.
”This have to do with me fillin' Max Blackburn's old job?”
She gave him another nod.
”When we discussed the issue a few weeks back, you told me that you needed to think about it, that you weren't sure you wanted to tackle the responsibility--”
”Or that Pete Nimec wanted me to,” he said. ”My dope was that he had someone else in mind, an' the two of you were b.u.t.tin' heads about it.”
”He did, and we were, but things have changed. Part of it's what happened here the other night. How well you handled it.”
”Nimec feel the same way?”
”He and I had a talk before I left for Brazil,” she said. ”And have reached a tentative agreement.”
”Sounds to me like there's a catch hid somewhere in this proposition.”
Megan laughed a little.
”I am am a woman.” a woman.”
”As I did say, I'd noticed.” He looked at her. ”The catch ... you gonna mention what it is?”
”Yes,” she said. ”After you tell me whether you'll accept the promotion.”
Thibodeau looked at her a moment, looked down at the campaign hat. Then he lifted it off his lap and placed it carefully on his head.
”Fit okay?” he asked.
”Perfect.”
”Will you marry me?”
”No.”
He shrugged.
”Might as well accept your your offer just the same, if only 'cause it'll get me off the night s.h.i.+ft.” offer just the same, if only 'cause it'll get me off the night s.h.i.+ft.”
Megan put her hand over the back of his and gave it a fond squeeze.
”Congratulations,” she said.
”And?”
She smiled at him.
”And,” she said, ”here's the catch....”
SIXTEEN.
COASTAL MAINE APRIL 22, 2001.
”YOU LOOKED TO MAKE SURE?” COBBS SAID. HE WAS chewing on a thick wad of gum. ”I mean, you were chewing on a thick wad of gum. ”I mean, you were watching, watching, right?” right?”
Dex plucked an imaginary lint ball off his mackinaw. It had been maybe ten minutes since he'd tied up the boat and Cobbs had already asked the question half a dozen times in one form or another.
”I told you, it's done,” he said. ”What more you want me to say?”
The look Cobbs gave him felt like a shove. He was wearing his Smokey hat and warden's uniform, and held a Remington 870 pump gun with 20-gauge chambering and a collapsible stock. His binoculars hung from a strap around his neck.
”I want you to tell me what you saw,” he said bluntly.
Dex licked his lips. He heard something scrabble across the limb of a tree in the nearby woods and glanced distractedly toward the sound. Perched on the budding maple, a squirrel twitched its bushy tail as it nibbled on whatever morsel of food was in its forepaws, the bright black beads of its eyes warily studying the two humans below.
He turned back to Cobbs.