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Harlan laughed. “I can tow it. I’m supposed to be taking Ted’s tow calls.”

“Right. I’m mad and I’m not thinking straight. Molly can recommend a garage somewhere else, and we’ll tow the fucker ourselves. It will be good practice for you.”

Sheriff’s Office. Coyote Creek.

“Morning, Molly,” I hollered from the back door. Both dogs pushed past me and Harlan to run to the squad room for their biscuits.

They made Harlan laugh. “They are so spoiled.”

“I’ll get Andrews into the squad.” From the key rack in the office, I grabbed the keys to the run and unlocked the security door.

Art Andrews—who loved to run his mouth—was hollering about how beat up Peterson was. “He needs a doctor, you fuckin maniac.”

“Maybe so. I’ll think about it while I take you to the courthouse.”

“Think hard, Sheriff. I’m pretty sure you’re breaking some big laws here—like about people’s rights and like that.”

I laughed. “And you know all about obeying the law, Art? Give me a fuckin break.” I cuffed his hands behind his back and hauled his ass outside to the squad. Without worrying about his head, I shoved him in the back and secured him, then put Max and Sarge in with him for good measure.

When I went back inside to get Harlan, Molly mentioned Peterson’s condition. Being gentle about it, she asked, “Do you think Clay needs to see a doctor, Travis? He seemed to be in a lot of pain when I gave him his breakfast.”

“Maybe. I’ll run him over to see Doctor Olson when I get back from the courthouse. I’m going to Cut Bank to see Ted anyway.”

Molly smiled. “Good idea.”

Molly thought it was a good plan, but I didn’t think Peterson deserved medical attention at all. I owed him a dose of pain for what his buddies had done to Ted. Clay gave the order and to me, that was the same thing as doing the deed himself.

Harrison County Courthouse. Coyote Creek.

It only took a few minutes to deliver Art Andrews to the bailiff at the courthouse. I figured he’d make bail on the bar fight and assault charges, and I wasn’t waiting around.

If he didn’t come up with the bond, he could wait in a holding cell at the courthouse until I came back to pick him up. He wasn’t getting any consideration from me. Art was nothing but a troublemaker.

Harlan and I got rid of Andrews, went back to the station, and picked up Peterson for his trip to the doctor.

Doctor Olson’s Office. Cut Bank.

I marched Clay Peterson into the back room of Doctor Olson’s office and sat him on the examination table. Harlan and I hadto wait a few minutes while the doctor finished with another patient.

When he had time for Clay, Doc Olson examined him and made him holler a few times touching the sore points. He took x-rays and decided what needed to be done. Olson was methodical and a little on the slow side, but he was extremely thorough.

“Travis did this to me, Doc. Can’t I have him charged with something?”

“Sheriff Frost inflicted these injuries?”

“You failed to mention the Glock you were pointing at me, Peterson. That makes it self-defense.”

“Come on,” snarled Peterson. “All of this wasn’t self-defense.” To the doctor: “This guy is brutal.”

Doctor Olson raised an eyebrow but didn’t offer a comment. He put a cast on Peterson’s arm and taped up the worst of the broken ribs. “No activity for a few days, Mister Peterson. Give those ribs a chance to heal. I’ll give you something for the pain.”

“Thanks, Doc.”

“He’ll have lots of time to rest in his cell,” I mumbled, and Harlan smiled.

Cut Bank Hospital.

Harlan and I left Clay Peterson in the back of the squad with the dogs while we ran into the hospital to see Ted for five minutes. Ted was doing better and had a good chance of being released on the weekend. His father was keeping vigil in Ted’s room.