A Nose for Justice

A NOSE FOR JUSTICE

A steady, increasing wind blew dust and sagebrush across the path of Magdalene Rogers. The graceful curving skeleton of a snake long ago disturbed from its resting place formed an S, straightened out, then broke up, its delicate white head carrying four vertebrae with it.  

Mags, as she was called, looked down and hoped this wasn’t a portent. Putting her hand palm inward to the left of her left eye, she craned her neck upward. Pieces of debris flew harder now. She watched as one small, crooked slip of sagebrush fastened itself to the P-47 propeller in the middle of the high crossbar forming the entrance to Wings Ranch. Just as quickly the brush dislodged, sailing farther into Red Rock Valley. Great sheets of Confederate- gray clouds interlaced with charcoal ones crested the Peterson Mountains, which in essence divided Nevada from California.  

Looking west toward that range, Mags saw that the ridgeline at its highest point—2,250 feet—was already engulfed in snow. Within ten to fifteen minutes the snow’s advance guard would be swirling through the Wings Ranch gate.  

Baxter, her three- year- old wire- haired dachshund, sat alert in the passenger seat of the rental car. Better Mags stand out there in the cold wind than himself. It had been a long day for the fastidious, very proper canine and he’d hated every last minute of it. The worst was the flight from JFK Airport to Reno. At least that was over—never to be repeated, he hoped fervently.  

She flipped up the collar of her shearling jacket—a long- ago Christmas present from her great- aunt who owned this sprawling, 10,000- acre ranch located about twenty- two miles south of Reno.  

The first snowflake tentatively appeared as Mags stood under the propeller blade. Aunt Jeep never did anything halfway, so her western entranceway was wide and high. Each spring, the old prop blade would be lovingly cleaned, touched up if needed, and a sprig of evergreen was tucked behind its nose for good luck.  

 Magdalene was named for her aunt. As Magdalene is a three syllable name, Americans shortened it. Who wants to say a mouthful? Hence, Mags. Aunt Jeep earned her nickname in 1941 when she first began driving Jeeps. She still had an old war issue that ran like a top. If you had any sense, you ran when Aunt Jeep took the wheel. The old lady craved speed whether driving or flying—both of which she had always done with sangfroid. 

Magdalene was named for her aunt. As Magdalene is a three syllable name, Americans shortened it. Who wants to say a mouthful? Hence, Mags. Aunt Jeep earned her nickname in 1941 when she first began driving Jeeps. Excerpted from A NOSE FOR JUSTICE by Rita Mae Brown. Copyright © 2009 by Rita Mae Brown. Excerpted by permission of Ballantine Books, a division of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.