Page 14

The rain was letting up when Walker got back on the highway, but while he’d been waiting, he’d also messed with his phone long enough to get driving directions to Crossroads Lodge.

His old truck was a gas guzzler and an oil burner. He kept glancing at the fuel gauge, measuring it against the distance he had yet to drive, and gambled that it was going to be okay.

It was just after sundown when he reached the little town of Crossroads, but with very few streetlights burning he wasn’t sure of where he was going. Fortunately, the Crossroads Lodge was lit up like a church, and he’d seen on the website that it was a two-story building, so it was easy to find.

He found a parking place off to the side, got his bag and locked the truck. The motel in Boise City could have taken a few cues from this place. It was as close to looking like home as a hotel/boarding house could look, and the man behind the desk smiled as he walked in.

“Mr. Bluejacket?”

Walker nodded.

“Welcome to Crossroads Lodge. I’m Ralph. If you’ll sign in for me, I’ll get your key and walk you to your room.”

Walker felt every bit of his sixty-eight years as they walked up the stairs to the second floor, with Ralph carrying his bag. They stopped at the third door down on the right. The clerk opened the door and stepped inside, put Walker’s bag on the bed, and then handed him the key.

“There will be coffee in the lobby in the morning. There’s a meal in the dining room here at night, but you’ll have to find your food elsewhere during the day. The Yellow Rose is the café on the highway. It’s the best place to eat, although there is also a deli in Belker’s Grocery store, and they sell burritos and wings in the gas station. There is a no-cooking rule for all the rooms, and no mini-bar. You’re welcome to bring food to the room, but be sure to get all your garbage gathered up and in the trash each night. The rooms are cleaned every morning, and the trash will be picked up then.”

Walker nodded. “I guess it’s too late for food tonight?”

“We only have one service a day and it’s at six, but I’ll get cook to make you a sandwich and a cold drink. I’ll bring them to you myself,” Ralph said.

“Appreciate that,” Walker said, and was already opening his suitcase as the door closed behind him.

He began to unpack a few things and then set his suitcase aside. A short while later, there was a knock at the door. It was Ralph with a tray. He carried it in and set it on the little table.

“Enjoy your food and sleep well. You can set your tray out in the hall when you’ve finished. I’ll pick it up when I make my rounds.”

Walker nodded, and then locked the door after Ralph left. He sat down at the table, eyed the cold sandwich, the bag of chips, a piece of pie and two cans of Mountain Dew. He didn’t like Mountain Dew. But he popped the tab, poured it over his glass of ice anyway, then began to eat.

***

Long after he’d set the tray in the hall and crawled into bed, his heartbeat was pounding like a drum. He was in Crossroads and Sonny didn’t know it. The downside was that he didn’t know where the ranch was, and if he asked around, it would alert his son that he was here.

What he needed was a lure. Something to get Sonny to come after him. But it couldn’t be here in front of a townful of witnesses. The storm he’d driven through to get here had passed, but the wind had yet to subside. Even within the walls of his room, and with the abstract noises of other residents within the house, Walker could still hear it blowing as he rolled over and closed his eyes.

He’d think of something. He always did.

***

Even though the storm was over, Sonny couldn’t settle. He eaten leftovers, cleaned up the kitchen, and taken a shower to get ready for bed, then pulled on a pair of sweatpants and paced the dark rooms, periodically looking out the windows past the halo of the security light, half expecting to see his father lurking in the shadows.

He hated this—the uncertainty of the vision. He’d been so sure the men would be here by now. Maybe the storm slowed them down. It wasn’t the first time this knowing he’d been given had frustrated him. Sometimes what he saw was an analogy for something else, and sometimes it was a mirror to past, present, or future. If the Old Ones had given him this gift, it should have come with instructions.

Then he got a text from Maggie.

Dude, I can hear you pacing. You are, aren’t you? You’re worried that they’ll come when you’re asleep. So, take that coyote-huntin’ rifle and a box of ammo to bed with you and get some rest. I finally got dried off and warm. Don’t make me have to come down there.

He burst out laughing and texted her back.

You’re a little bit scary. How did you know this?

Within a couple of minutes, she answered.

Maybe the butterflies told me. Maybe it’s just me needing to believe nothing is going to take you away from me. Love you forever, Sonny Bluejacket. Meet you in my dreams.

Sonny read it through unshed tears.

Thank you for this. Now get some sleep. You have to be at work early, and so do I. Love you more.

***

Water was still dripping from the eaves of houses the next morning, and the tumbleweeds that hadn’t blown away with the storm were stuck against fences, and up against houses in people’s backyards.

Pearl looked like hell and was functioning at about seventy-five percent, but with Davey helping in the kitchen, and Darla and Cheryl on half-day duty to help Maggie, they could do it. She was intent on re-opening the Rose, and already in the kitchen by five making biscuit dough when her employees began to arrive.

Maggie showed up first, with Davey right behind her, and a couple of minutes later, Darla entered the back door.

“Morning, everyone,” Pearl said. “Let’s do this.”

After the run-through yesterday, they all knew the drill, and began scattering to their respective duties. It wasn’t long before Davey was taking bacon strips and sausage patties off the grill, filling up the warming trays so when orders came in, the meat portion of breakfasts were already done.

Pearl had pancake batter ready, biscuits in a warmer, and a stack of egg flats beside the grill, ready to go.

Darla glanced at Maggie as she flipped the Closed sign to Open, and unlocked the front door.

The first two cars pulling into the parking lot made Darla nervous. It had been a while since she’d done this.

“Darla, don’t let them see you sweat. You’ve got this. You take the first table. I’ll catch the second.”

Darla gave Maggie a thumbs-up and picked up a couple of menus as the first customers walked in and sat down.

Three locals came in behind them, and chose a table in the back corner. Maggie knew them well. Three old cowboys who lived alone in their little trailers, and didn’t like to cook.

Every time Maggie went to pick up an order, she could hear Pearl and Davey, and once even heard Pearl laugh. She smiled. This was a good thing.

There was a bit of a lull after the first early rush and Maggie had just bussed her last table, and was rolling a cart full of dirty dishes into the kitchen for Carson to wash, when she heard Davey talking, relating a story about a latecomer who’d showed up at the lodge just as the storm was passing, and keyed in on the story.

“He was an older guy…maybe late sixties. Looked like he’d been rode hard and put up wet. Gray hair braided in two braids that hung down the front of his chest and biggest damn belt buckle beneath his belly. Solid chunk of turquoise, it was. He seemed polite enough, but he had the coldest eyes I’ve ever seen, and I thought, glad he’s just passing through. I wouldn’t want to live under the same roof with him.”

Maggie’s heart skipped a beat. Before she could react, the bell over the front door jingled. Another customer had just come in, and Darla was in the bathroom.

She wiped her hands and went to get the order, and then she was going to call Sonny. But when she walked out into the dining area and saw the customer, her heart slammed against her chest.

It was him! Walker Bluejacket!

She carried the coffeepot with her as she put a menu on his table. “Coffee, sir?”

He looked up, first at her face, and then undressed her with a look that made her sick.

“Sir?”

“Oh, yeah, coffee,” he said, and shoved the menu aside. “Sausage and two eggs over easy, with a side of biscuits and gravy,” he said.

Maggie was writing as he spoke, and when he stopped, she nodded. “Comin’ right up,” she said, and started to walk away when he grabbed her wrist.

“What’s your name, pretty lady?” he asked.

“Let me go,” she said.

He laughed. “That’s a funny name for such a pretty thing,” but he turned her loose, then watched her walk out, thinking to himself if she was a little older, or he was a little younger, she wouldn’t be playing so hard to get.

Maggie turned in the order, and was about to step outside to make the call when a trio of men walked in, and Darla still wasn’t back.

Maggie picked up the coffeepot again and moved to the next table of men, all locals, and began filling up cups.

Bill Belker, the owner of Belker’s Grocery, was the first to strike up a conversation. “You tell Pearl we’re really sorry about her black eye, but we sure did miss her cookin’ while the Rose was shut down.”

Maggie grinned. “Yes, I will. And I don’t suppose you need menus?”

They shook their heads and gave their orders, and then Maggie picked up Walker’s order and carried it back to his table.

He gave her the side-eye, but said no more as he dug into the food.

Maggie refilled his coffee and then started to walk away when Bill Belker called out to Maggie from across the room.

“Hey, Maggie, you tell Sonny next time you see him that the back of the pharmacy still smells a little skunky.”

Her heart sank. She wouldn’t look at Walker for fear of seeing recognition dawning.

“I’ll do that,” she said, and when she saw Darla back on the floor, she bolted toward the kitchen.

Pearl looked up as Maggie entered the kitchen, saw the look on her face, and frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Walker Bluejacket. He’s out there, eating in our dining room. He’s alone, and Mr. Belker just made a very loud remark about me giving Sonny a message, which tells that man I know his son. And that I likely know where he lives, as well. I have to call Sonny. I’m just going to step outside to make the call. I won’t be a minute,” she said.

Pearl nodded, then walked away from the counter to look out into the dining room. She spotted the man immediately, then saw him throwing down some money on the table and walking out the door.

“Oh lordy,” Pearl muttered. This didn’t feel right.

***

Sonny was in the barn, putting down wood shavings in two of the stalls, getting them ready for the mares, when a gust of wind came through the open doors and blew an empty bucket off a hook.

Startled by the sound, he looked up, and in seconds the world around him vanished, and he was watching Maggie walk out the back door of the Rose and then turn away from the wind, unaware of the truck pulling into the employee parking lot, or the driver getting out. Sonny was watching Walker grab her, shove her up against the wall, and run his hands up her leg. Twice, he watched Maggie try to push him away, but when he put his hands on her breasts, she raked her nails down the side of his face. Quick as a rattlesnake strike, Walker’s hands were around her throat.

For Sonny, watching this unfold was a waking paralysis, witnessing the woman he loved kicking, and scratching, fighting the man who’d accosted her. When he saw her go limp in Walker’s arms, he felt actual pain. Something he’d never experienced in a vision before. Not knowing if she was just unconscious, or already dead—still watching his own father dragging her to his truck, throwing her body into the back seat, was horrifying, then seeing him tying her feet and hands before jumping into the truck and speeding away ended the vision, and he was back in the stall with a rake in his hand.

Rage rolled through him in waves. He dropped the rake and reached for his phone, praying that her phone was still on her, because if it was not, she was lost.

But when he pulled up the app and saw her on the move, all he could think was “thank God,” and ran for the house to get the rifle and a box of ammo, then jumped in the truck. This was his worst nightmare come true.

***

Maggie stepped out of the Rose to call Sonny, but the wind blasted her in the face, so she turned her back to make the call. She was about to reach for her phone when all of a sudden, there was a voice behind her.

“Hey, Maggie…that’s your name, right? Maggie. You know my son.”

She turned abruptly, and shoved him backward. “Get out of my face! I don’t have a freaking clue who you are, so how would I know who your son might be,” she snapped.

He blinked. He hadn’t thought that through. “Sonny Bluejacket. You know him?”

Before she could react, he took another step toward her and shoved his hand up her skirt. She shoved him back again.

“Get your hands off me! What is wrong with you?”

Walker didn’t move, and now there was an ugly, warning tone in his voice that made her gut knot. “I asked you a question. I want an answer,”

“I know everybody who lives here, and I know you’re not one of them,” Maggie said.

He sneered. “So, what are you doing out here?”

She gave him the same look he’d given her inside the café, looking him up and down like merchandise. “Throwing away garbage…but it appears I missed some.”

Before she could react, he grabbed her breasts. She raked his face with her nails and saw his eyes turn black. Suddenly he had her by the throat, choking off her ability to breathe.

Maggie went into survival mode and began kicking and scratching, fighting him with every ounce of strength, even as he was choking the breath from her body. She was on the verge of passing out when he shoved a wad of napkins in her mouth, then began dragging her to his truck, and threw her in the back seat.

She was conscious enough to know he was tying her hands and feet. Then he slammed the door shut and jumped into the front seat, made a U-turn in the back parking lot, and sped out, heading toward the highway.

***

The speedometer on Sonny’s truck was tipping eighty as he flew through town, sliding sideways when he reached the highway before straightening out the wheels and headed west, following Maggie’s trail. At best guess, Walker was at least five or more miles ahead, and Sonny was driving ninety miles an hour now, and hearing drums and war cries. He needed to call the sheriff’s department, but he also needed both hands on the wheel, and then his phone rang.

***

It was a good five minutes before Pearl realized Maggie hadn’t come back inside. She opened the back door to check on her, but she wasn’t anywhere in sight. Only the muddy tracks of a vehicle making a U-turn in the employee parking lot, and all of the cars belonging to her employees were right where they’d been parked.

Then she remembered seeing Walker throwing down money and hurrying out of the Rose, and in a panic, she called Sonny.

He answered in the middle of the first ring. “Hello.”

“Sonny, Maggie’s gone. I don’t know where—”

“Walker has her. Call the sheriff’s office. Tell them what happened. I’m tracking her on an app on my phone right now. I can see where they’re going. Tell Matt Reddick to get a GPS location on my phone number, because I’m only a few miles behind them.”

“Oh my God…yes, yes, I will. Oh Sonny, be safe, and bring my girl back safe, too.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sonny said, disconnected, and tapped the map again to bring it back up. Walker was going west, there was nothing but dirt, yucca, and highway all the way to New Mexico, and the drumbeats were louder now, matching the beat of his heart.

***

Maggie finally spit the last of the paper napkins out of her mouth, but instead of screaming, she stayed silent, and began trying to loosen the ties around her wrists.

At first, she couldn’t figure out what they were and then she realized there was a slight give to them…a kind of elasticity. She kept fumbling and fumbling, until she felt a hook, and realized he’d wrapped a bungee cord around her wrists and then hooked the ends together to keep it taut.

Knowing now what it was, she needed a way to dislodge the hooks. It took a few seconds for her to realize the thing poking in her hip was actually the lock end of a seat belt. It was hard metal and plastic, and in somewhat of a fixed position. If she could just force that buckle beneath the hooks, it might be enough to shift one hook enough to come undone.

Her other saving grace was believing Pearl would call Sonny as soon as she realized that Maggie had gone missing, and knew the first thing he’d do was check that tracking app. She was scared, but all was not lost. As long as she drew breath, there was hope.

***

Walker was congratulating himself on making such a slick move, but he hadn’t thought past it. He’d taken her to draw Sonny out, but now that he had her, what next? He hadn’t taken the time to search her person, and couldn’t kill her now because he’d need Sonny’s phone number, and he knew she knew it.

Showing up at Crossroads under his real name had nixed the secret part of his plot and eliminated the possibility that he could kill his son and get away with it. And by kidnapping the girl, he’d also made a big target of himself in the eyes of the law. He couldn’t get away with this and ever go home. But he could do it, then cross the border into Mexico and get lost, and it would be worth it just knowing he’d wiped that smug look off his son’s face for good.

He glanced up in the rearview mirror at his back-seat passenger. She wasn’t moving and her eyes were closed. A part of him wondered if she was already dead. He’d choked her good before stuffing the napkins in her mouth. He didn’t see the napkins anymore. Maybe she’d sucked them down her throat and choked herself to death. That wasn’t good. He needed her to be able to call Sonny. She was his lure. Sonny had to hear her voice to know Walker had her.

At that point, he glanced down at the mileage, checking how many miles he’d covered since leaving Crossroads. More than twenty miles and counting. Now that he was this far gone, he slowed his old truck down to sixty-five. He didn’t need another breakdown in this godforsaken place with a kidnapped woman in the back seat.

***

The moment Sheriff Reddick received Pearl’s call, he made a call to the Muscogee/Creek Nation Tax Commission to get a number for the tribal tag on Walker Bluejacket’s truck, then dispatched the message to the Texas Highway Patrol, along with Sonny Bluejacket’s phone number, and his instructions to locate him via the GPS on his phone.

Reddick knew if they were headed west, they would drive out of Briscoe County, which was where his authority ended, so he stirred up a hornet’s nest with the Texas Highway Patrol. Within moments of dispatch, they were en route from every direction, looking for an old red Ford pickup with a tribal tag from the Muscogee Nation in Oklahoma, and following the GPS location of Sonny’s phone.

***

Maggie was trying not to cry, but her feeble attempt to free herself was going nowhere and her hands were getting numb. The bungee cord had been wrapped so tightly she was losing circulation.

Then she glanced up in the rearview mirror and saw him watching her.

“So, you didn’t die yet,” Walker said.

The cold glare in her eyes surprised him. She wasn’t scared. She was mad.

“Sonny is going to kill you,” she said.

It felt like a prediction, not a warning, which startled him even more. Then he looked back up, panicked as the truck began to fishtail, before getting back on the highway. He’d nearly run himself off the road.

He glared back at her again.

“He’ll have to find me first,” Walker said, eyeing her swollen and bloody lips. But when she smiled again, his heart skipped. She knew something he didn’t.

He gripped the steering wheel a little tighter and focused his attention on the stretch of highway before him, and then readjusted his rearview mirror away from her face to the road behind him, and for a second, thought he could see a vehicle in the distance.

He told himself it meant nothing. It was a highway. People used it. He’d already met eastbound traffic earlier, and had seen one vehicle behind him that eventually turned off the highway onto a private road. It was nothing to worry about, and he kept driving. But every time he glanced up, the vehicle was a little closer than it had been before.

Walker glanced at the speedometer. He was still sitting on sixty-five, so out of caution, he sped up a little. Within minutes he realized had hadn’t gained any ground. The pickup truck was still behind him and coming closer.

He didn’t know what Sonny would be driving, but if that was him, then he was starting to panic. How the hell did he find them so fast?

***

The whine of the tires had become a song in Sonny’s ears, and the closer he got to Maggie, the louder the whine. He was doing ninety when he got his first glimpse of the truck. He still didn’t know if Maggie was alive or dead, but he knew Walker Bluejacket was behind the wheel, and was debating with himself as to how he could stop him without causing a wreck.

When he realized Walker was putting distance between them, he stomped the accelerator and shot forward. For a heartbeat, it felt like coming out of a chute on the back of a bull, gripping the steering wheel as tight as he’d held on to the bull rope.

He glanced in the rearview mirror and in the distance, thought he could see a line of flashing lights coming up behind him. Thank God. And then high in the sky before him, a black-and-white chopper flying east.

Texas Highway Patrol chopper in the air and patrol cars behind me. Matt Reddick came through. All I need is Maggie…alive and in my arms.

He just kept driving.

***

Walker was so focused on the truck coming up behind him that he didn’t see the patrol chopper flying straight toward him, low enough that the skids would come straight through his windshield, until it was too late.

“Oh hell,” he shouted, and hit the brakes. Within seconds, he was rammed from behind just hard enough to jam the steering wheel into his belly. He was grabbing for the gun in the seat beside him when the driver’s side door came open.

“You son of a bitch!” Sonny said, and yanked him out of the truck, threw him off his feet and into the air, where he landed on his back on the highway, then Sonny reached into the truck and killed the engine.

His first glance in the back seat was to look for Maggie, then locked into her beautiful blue eyes. She’s alive!

“Oh my God…Maggie, sweetheart…”

“I’m okay. I’m okay! Don’t let him get away.”

Sonny looked down, saw the gun, pulled the clip and tossed them both in the floorboard as Walker was scrambling to his feet.

Sonny grabbed him again, this time by the back of the collar, slammed Walker up against the hood of his own truck and punched him in the face.

“You put your hands on my woman,” he said, and hit him square in the nose. “I saw you. I saw you choke her into unconsciousness.” He hit him again, this time in the mouth. “I saw you stuff napkins in her mouth and tie her up in the back seat of your truck.” Then he hit him again—once in the ribs, and then in his belly.

Walker was spitting blood and teeth and absolutely certain he was going to die where he stood, and still trying to get free. “You lie…you couldn’t see anything. You weren’t there,” he shouted.

Sonny yanked him so close that Walker could feel the heat of his son’s breath.

“I can see, old man. I saw everything you did to her, and what she did to you. I came back from the dead with a gift. I see the past, the present, and the future. You can’t lie. You can’t hide. I can find you anywhere,” and then he pulled a hunting knife out of his boot.

Walker looked like he’d seen a ghost. “Don’t kill me. Don’t kill me,” he begged.

Sonny grabbed one of Walker’s braids, and with one quick slash, cut it off at the scalp, then grabbed the other one and sliced again, then threw them toward the ditch.

Walker shrieked. Losing his hair was the execution of his soul. He felt the pain as if the knife had actually pierced his flesh.

Just as Sonny tossed the braids, the patrol chopper was landing, churning the wind about them. The downdraft caught the braids and blew them out into the grassland beyond.

Highway patrolmen were pulling up in their patrol cars, and running toward them with their weapons drawn as Sonny picked Walker up by the shoulders and dropped him at their feet, then he ran back to Maggie and yanked the back door open.

The sight of her bruised face and the darkening imprints of Walker’s fingers on her neck, and on her bare arms and legs crushed him to the core. This had happened to her because of him. Because of the evil of the man who was his blood.

Maggie was crying. “I knew you’d find me. I knew you’d find me,” she kept saying, as Sonny began unfastening the bungee cords and then lifting her out of the truck.

He couldn’t talk. All he could do was hold her. Tears were rolling down his face. The guilt of what happened to her was killing him.

Then someone walked up behind him.

“Mr. Bluejacket, I’m Officer Landon. We can get an ambulance for Miss Brennen, but it will take a good hour for them to arrive, or we can chopper her to the nearest ER.”

“No, I don’t need an ambulance. There’s an ER in Crossroads,” Maggie said. “Sonny can take me there. I just want to go home.”

“Yes, ma’am, but we’ll need your statement about what happened…for the record.”

“What are you going to do with him?” Sonny asked, pointing at Walker.

“We’re taking what’s left of him to an ER, and then straight to jail,” Landon said. “We’ll also need your statement, too, and smart move…having the tracker app on your phones.”

Sonny nodded, then started toward his truck with Maggie in his arms. He put her down to open the door, then eased her into the passenger seat. When she fumbled with the seat belt, he took it out of her hands and fastened it for her.

“My hands…they’re still a little numb,” she said.

Sonny looked down at his own hands, blood-stained and knuckles already bruising, and grabbed hand wipes and began wiping his fingers and his palms, trying to remove every vestige of Walker from his person. When they were clean, he reached for Maggie’s hands and began rubbing and massaging them, helping the blood to circulate, before turning them palms up and kissing them.

“Sonny, really, I’m okay,” Maggie said.

He shook his head. “But I’m not. I knew Walker had you, but I didn’t know if you were still alive.”

He heard footsteps behind him and turned around. It was Officer Landon again.

“Sir, do you have any idea why your father did this?”

“He wants me dead. He used Maggie as a lure.”

Landon had seen and heard a lot in his police career, but this was a first.

“Wants you dead? Why?”

Sonny shrugged. “Because he is a monster? Because of envy? Because his heart is black? I don’t know. I used to rodeo. I rode bulls. I was good. Then five years ago I came off a bull and got stomped in the chest before I could get up. I died twice on the operating table. Against all odds, I survived. Right before I moved out here, we got into a fight, and he told me I should have stayed dead. I guess he came out here to finish the job. You have my phone number. Will someone come out to take our statements?”

“Just get your lady home and checked out. Someone will be in touch. We can take it via Zoom and record it if need be.”

“Thank you,” Sonny said, then got in his truck, backed up enough to turn around. As he did, he caught Walker watching him from the back of a highway patrol car and stared until Walker was the first to look away.

Then he got a blanket from the back seat and covered Maggie up, opened a bottle of water for her then held it so she could drink, and as soon as he was satisfied that she was settled, they drove away.