I Will Fight No More Forever

by E B Corbin

  “Well, hell. You’re not going to admit it, are you?”

  When the bell dinged for their floor, he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder.

  She kicked her feet and tried to twist around. “Dammit! Put me down!”

  “Nice try, but you’ll have to do better before I give you a passing grade.” Henry bent over and attempted to toss her to the floor, but she managed to stay on her feet and gave him an unexpected shove.

  “There, Mr. Smart Guy. I’m not completely helpless!”

  “God, I should hope not after we’ve been practicing for a couple of weeks.” His dimple crept out as his smile widened. “You’re coming along nicely. Now we’d better get cleaned up before White Cloud shows up.”

  By the time Sam dried her hair and entered the living area of their suite, the taxi driver was sitting at the table with a glass of juice while Henry chowed down on french toast and bacon. A silver, domed plate waited for her perusal. She lifted the top to find a scrambled egg, toast and a bowl of fruit. “Perfect! Thank you.”

  Henry swallowed before he nodded. “I’m getting a handle on your eating, or should I say non-eating habits.”

  “I eat. Just not as much as you. I never met anyone who eats as much as you.”

  “I have to keep my strength up and my mind sharp.”

  Sam laughed. “How does eating make your mind sharp?”

  “You’d be surprised. Finish your breakfast and we’ll test out the new two-way communication system.”

  “You did it?”

  “Of course. You didn’t have any doubt, did you?”

  Sam hesitated. “Maybe a little.”

  “Humphh,” he mumbled as he stuffed the last bit of bread in his mouth.

  The ringing of White Cloud’s phone interrupted their repartee. Sam and Henry both paused their forks while listening to White Cloud’s side of the conversation: a few grunts, an “I see,” and a couple of nods followed by “Yes, we will be right there.”

  “What is it? Who was that?” Sam pushed aside her plate and wiped her mouth.

  “That was Nina. She wanted us to know that Toby never came home after his shift last night.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  They made it to Nina’s house in record time. She greeted them at the door with tears in her eyes. “Something is wrong. I know it. Toby would never stay out all night without calling me.”

  “Maybe he met a girl.” Sam didn’t think it was unusual for a grown man to stay out all night and not let his mother know. “Or he’s hanging out with some friends.”

  “He would not do that. He knows I need the car in the morning to get to NAYA. Whenever he is going to stay out, he always drops the car off first and takes off with one of his friends. No, something is wrong—terribly wrong.”

  “Did you check with his boss at the bar?” Henry rested his hand on Sam’s arm to signal he would take over the questioning. Sam tended to come across as harsh and uncaring. He knew she didn’t mean to belittle Nina, but her tone might be taken the wrong way.

  Nina turned to Henry, leaving Sam with her mouth hanging open. “There was no answer. No one comes in until late in the day. It is a dive, I know that. They do not serve much food or anything, and most of their customers are still sleeping off last night’s binge. I think Toby once pulled the early shift and he did not have to be there until noon.”

  “Do you have his boss’s home phone number? An emergency contact number? What if Toby got sick and couldn’t make it in? How would you let them know?”

  “Lots of employees do not show up. They never call in or anything. Sometimes they never come back, either.” Nina wrung her hands and took a step backward. “I told you, it is not the Ritz. No one is surprised when one of the employees just disappears. Besides, Toby has not been sick since he was a child.”

  White Cloud took Nina’s elbow and led her to a chair. “How long has Toby worked at this place?”

  “Oh, I’m not sure. Four or five years, I think.” Nina pushed her hair away from her face. She wore it down today, not wrapped around her head in her usual manner. Thin strands of gray were more apparent giving her a distinguished look, but the strain on her face made her look ten years older.

  To make up for her earlier cold remarks, Sam knelt in front of Nina’s chair and took her hand. “Mrs. Martin, we’ll find Toby. Did you call the police?”

  Nina jerked her hand from Sam’s. “What for? They do not care about a missing American Indian.”

  “What about hospitals? He could have been in an accident and isn’t able to call.” Henry guided Sam away from Nina. Instinctively, Henry knew that Nina was the type of person to pick up on another’s attitude quickly and while he knew Sam meant well, she sometimes came across as insensitive.

  Sam went without protest, knowing she was not helping matters, although her intentions were good. It was something she knew she’d have to work on. The years behind a computer terminal at the FBI had left her thinking in zeroes and ones, with little time left over to consider feelings and emotions. She had to learn to be human, not a machine.

  “Someone would have called. I am listed as his emergency contact.” Nina slumped in her chair. “I know it is unusual for a thirtysomething man to be living with his mother, and you may think I am overreacting, but you must understand. Toby is all I have, and I am all he has. I tried to talk him into getting his own apartment so he would not look like such a mama’s boy. He has enough money. But he did not want to leave me living alone. Maybe I should have forced the issue.” Nina stared at the dream catcher on the wall. “I never worried about my son becoming a man. I knew he was coming into his own. I am worried those skinheads did something to him.”

  Henry shook his head. “They struck me as mostly spineless bullies. They’d pick on women and children but not someone who would fight back. Did they come in again?”

  “Not since you chased them out. But they might have gone after Toby.”

  White Cloud moved to look out the window. “It is starting to rain. Perhaps we should be on our way and begin looking for him.”

  “Do you have any idea where we should start?” Sam stood, taking the hint.

  Nina shrugged. “Only the bar, and I doubt it will be open yet.”

  “We will start there. It will be close to noon by the time we get there.” White Cloud started for the door and paused, turning to Nina. “You should stay here in case your son shows up.”

  “I will be here until it is time for me to leave for work. Toby has my cell number if he tries to get in touch with me.” Nina shook her head.

  “Nina, you know you don’t have to work anymore. I can transfer money to your account today.”

  Doubt crept over Nina’s face. “I am not sure I believe you. I will not give up my job just like that.” She snapped her fingers.

  “As soon as we find Toby and I get back to our room, I’ll transfer the funds to you.”

  Nina waved her hand in dismissal. “I need to find my son more than I need money.”

  “I know you do. And we’ll do everything we can to find him.” Sam pulled her phone from her purse. “Give us his number. Perhaps we can trace it to his current location.”

  “You can do that?” Nina’s eyebrows rose.

  “Not legally, but we can do it. We will if we have to.” Henry squeezed Nina’s hand. “Don’t worry just yet. We won’t give up until we find him.”

  “Thank you.” Nina regained her composure and straightened her blouse as she showed them to the door. “I am sorry if I came across as an overprotective mother, but this is not like my son.”

  “We understand. We will be in touch as soon as we know anything.” Sam tucked her phone back into her purse. “I can’t tell you not to worry because I know that’s impossible but try not to think the worst.”

  Nina only nodded.

  When they were settled in their usual spots in the taxi, Sam leaned forward. “Well, what’s our first move? Do you think it’s worth it to check out
the bar where Toby works? Even if it’s not open, if someone grabbed him after his shift, maybe the car is still there.”

  “It’s as good a place as any to start.” Henry buckled his seat belt. “I don’t think those skinheads we ran into at Starbucks have the balls to abduct him. Toby’s in pretty good shape, and he’d fight back.”

  “Yeah, I agree. But that kind of leaves us with no leads,” Sam said. “What do you think White Cloud?”

  “I think you are correct about those three, but there are others who may not be so gutless. Uncle has told me about several farms surrounding the rez that have been filling up with less than ideal neighbors. If someone wanted to stash Toby where he would not be found, those places seem a logical option. The bar is about forty-five minutes away from the entrance to the reservation.”

  “Can anyone just walk or drive onto the reservation?”

  “There is one main road with a posted sign where the rez begins, but there is no checkpoint or gate or anything like that. There are several smaller roads going through also. It is not as if there is a wall or anything to prevent people from encroaching or to keep my people in. We are free to come and go as we please, and so anyone would be able to enter without being seen. We have thousands of visitors a year going through the museum at Warm Springs, and the casino is always open.”

  “If Patterson found out that Toby tried to turn them in to the FBI, he might have ordered some of the not-too-smart followers to kidnap him,” Henry pointed out. “It doesn’t have to be those three idiots we ran into.”

  “Then we should start at the bar, see if anyone saw anything,” Sam said.

  “We are on our way,” said White Cloud. “But first I want to call Uncle to have him get some search parties out looking for Toby. Many of the residents know Nina and Toby. I am sure they would be willing to help.”

  “It would save us time. If we don’t find anything at the bar, we can help them search.” Sam fiddled with her fingers trying to keep her nerves in check.

  “That is possible.” White Cloud made a quick turn onto US Route 26. “It may take two hours to reach the rez if we do not run into much traffic. Many people visit Mount Hood year-round but the road should be relatively clear since the schools have not let out yet and the weather is okay.”

  “The reservation is on Mount Hood?” Sam asked.

  “No, but we have to pass through Mount Hood National Forest. The rez sits next to it. Sometimes it is hard to know whether you are in the forest or on the Consolidated Tribes land.”

  “That’s not good. Makes it harder to know where to search.” Sam leaned forward as far as her seatbelt allowed.

  “More than likely they have him at one of their compounds on the far side of the rez. Away from the woods and trees.” White Cloud threw a glance over his shoulder to Sam. “Let us hope they have not dumped him in the forest. That would make it much harder for us to locate him.”

  Sam sat back in her seat. “Well, shit.”

  “I don’t think they’d do that,” said Henry. “Their target is the Indian reservation, so it makes sense that’s where they’d leave him if they’re trying to set the Native Americans up for hitting some small town with missiles.”

  “That is true.” White Cloud pushed the taxi a bit faster even though they were already speeding along at seventy miles per hour on the wet blacktop. He slowed as they went through Gresham, where the road widened to four lanes. They passed strip malls with Rite Aid, Popeyes Chicken, and all the other necessary trademarks of modern-day life. Highway 26 narrowed to a single lane in each direction as they left the town of Sandy, and the buildings and businesses grew farther apart.

  Sam gazed out the side window, wondering if this was the region earmarked for destruction by the Senator and his crew. She shuddered thinking about the innocent lives that would be lost, in this peaceful-looking place, or a similar one. She could only try to ignore the dread from seeing the people who could be killed by such an attack. She felt better when the taxi sped up again as soon as lush green fields outnumbered the buildings lining the side of the road.

  The continuing light rain made Sam uneasy as she unbuckled her seatbelt and moved to the center of the back seat to peer out the windshield. Growing up in the desert of New Mexico, she was not used to seeing vibrant green all around, and the dense fir trees of the Pacific Northwest.

  When the rain subsided to a mist, White Cloud turned the wipers on Intermittent. Every time the blades swept the windshield, Sam got a clear view of the landscape. The fields made a neat verdant checkerboard whenever the trees thinned enough to see the vast expanse of rolling hills. “It’s really beautiful out here.”

  White Cloud grunted. “According to Uncle, it is not nearly as it once was. Horses, wolves, coyotes, and my people ran free through the trees, which have been cut to make the white man’s fields. The land is no longer in its natural state.”

  “Do you miss it?” Sam’s head swiveled from side to side, taking in the neat fields and single straight row of trees lining the road.

  “I have never seen it as it should be. Uncle has told me what he learned from his father about riding bareback through the hills and valleys. It is why he no longer has any desire to leave the reservation. It breaks his heart when he sees another McDonald’s being built.”

  The air smelled cleaner as fields gave way to forests of pine and fir trees along Route 26. Soon they passed ski areas and mountain cabins, then a sign for Snow Bunny coming up in two miles and an arrow pointing left to Timberline Lodge, a national historic site six miles ahead. The rain finally stopped, but the sky was filled with gray cotton balls. The road became a ribbon, snaking and curling through the trees.

  About halfway up the mountain they came to a rundown log cabin on the right side of the road. A beat-up sign with peeling paint and a faded drawing of a horse announced to the weary travelers that they had reached the “Trading Post.”

  “Not a very unique name,” Sam said as White Cloud pulled into the empty gravel lot.

  “No one appears to be here, either.” Henry unbuckled himself for better access to his 9-millimeter should he need it.

  “I will drive around back.” The taxi crunched over the gravel, only to come to a tight dead end. An overflowing dumpster sat between the log cabin and a drop off leading to a creek, which trickled on its merry way.

  “No way a car could park back here.” Henry eased his hand off his gun and opened the door. “I’ll check the back door. See if anyone’s inside.”

  “I’ll go to the front,” Sam said and signaled for White Cloud to back up before Henry could object.

  The windows were small and too high to see the interior, so Sam settled for pounding on the shabby log door in front. She shivered in her suede jacket. The temperature here had to be ten to fifteen degrees colder than in Portland. The damp air cut through to her bones.

  A log railing lined the front of the building, probably meant to look like a hitching post for a patron’s horse. Sam imagined the lot filled with pickups, even though horses might have been less dangerous transportation.

  Henry came around the side shaking his head. “Doesn’t look like that back door is used very often. The trash around it is pretty rancid, too.”

  “We’ll move on to the reservation and hope someone is here on our way back.” Sam took one last look around to see if any cabins or houses were nearby. Nothing but trees, trees, and more trees. “This place is awfully remote. Somebody could easily grab Toby without being seen.”

  “Yeah, and I’ll bet it’s totally dark here at night.” Henry looked around the parking lot. “I don’t see any outside lights besides that one floodlight on the sign. Wouldn’t be surprised if it didn’t even work.”

  They climbed back in the taxi and motored down the road, only going a few feet before they passed a sign signaling the start of Mount Hood National Forest. The road remained narrow and winding, the trees dense on either side. There were a few cars on the road, but for long stretches th
ey saw no vehicles at all.

  Sam thought that if Toby ran into car trouble or missed a turn coming home, he would have to wait a long time to get help. It could be he was still stranded out here somewhere. But he had no reason to drive through the national forest; his home was in the other direction. Unless he decided to give some drunken regular a ride. If so, where was the drunk’s car? No, that scenario made no sense.

  Soon the road leveled out, the name changed to Warm Springs Highway, and the trees grew thin, the land flat and barren. Everything was brown, broken here and there by a dwarf tree or small bush. It was as if the government took the most dried-up piece of dirt it could find and gave it to the three tribes for a reservation.

  Sam’s stomach clenched in anticipation of what they would learn from the scouts White Cloud’s uncle sent out.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Behind them in the distance, Sam could make out Mount Hood with its icing of snow at the peak. She imagined it would be quite a sight on a clear day when mist and pewter skies didn’t dim the majesty. The weather, the scrubby bushes with a stunted tree popping up occasionally, the flat brown wasteland—everything combined to give the reservation a melancholy air. Sam felt a heaviness settle in her heart. She wondered how the three thousand or so Native Americans who lived here could stand it, day after day.

  They passed a travel plaza truck stop with a convenience store, restaurant, and LED lights over the gasoline pumps providing an oasis in the high desert. The flashing sign for food, fun, and eats stood in stark contrast to the barren surroundings.

  A modern building with several sections of peaked roofs caused Sam to twist around to see more of it as they passed. “What’s that building?”

  “It is the museum I told you about. It is an object of pride to the residents.”

  Only a few cars sat in the parking area. “Is it closed?”

  “No, but at this time of year there are not many visitors. On a clear day in the warmer months, there are many activities and attractions for tourists. They particularly seem to like seeing the women and warriors in full Native dress parading on horses.”