Just before 11:00 the next morning Seamus and I set out in
search of Ewepie. I think we were headed west but all I know was that we drove
past a few cattle ranches and wound up in garlic and onion country. The air was
thick with their smell for 10 or 15 minutes ‘til it wasn’t. Then all I could
see for miles was hay fields.
“Where’re
we goin’?” Seamus looked at me out of the corner of his eye.
“Don’t
worry about it,” he said.
“I’m not
worried,” I said. “It’s just that I can’t figure how you aim to find someone
out in the middle of a hay field.”
He didn’t
bother to look at me again, instead powering on the Buick’s stereo. Led
Zeppelin’s “Tangerine” had just begun. I guess he thought the music would
prevent me from further questioning, and I decided the noise was better than
trying to get information out of him. Before the short number ended we
approached what appeared to be a hub of the local irrigation system. Seamus
pulled the car onto a dirt road, exhibiting a carelessness for the vehicle. I
shook my head in frustration as I felt the suspension and steering shoulder the
caution necessary for such terrain, an element for which the operator should
take responsibility.
A ways down
the road stood a shake-shingled shelter with a horse corral behind it. Seamus
pulled over and shifted the Buick into park.
“Wait
here,” he said.
