Despite all that, he had to find him, head off the trouble he’d set in motion. If he wasn’t already too late. And if he was heading out to the Layfield ranch, he better go prepared. He needed a weapon. Flying down to Laredo International meant he’d left his gun behind. He needed to take a look around Jay’s house, see if there was one lying around.
That’s what he told himself anyway, to justify him poking through the closets and drawers. It’s amazing what you can convince yourself of.
Yeah, right.
There wasn’t a gun in the house. That discovery brought him full circle back to Sarah. Back to the task he’d set Guillory and Crow. To find out what it was in her past that she’d always refused to share with him. That he believed was the cause of her refusal to have a gun in the house. Would she have been the same living with Jay? Even after the experience she’d been through?
He called Guillory.
Because he needed an update. And if you believe that, you’ll believe anything. He just wanted to hear her voice. And hear it he did, too. Loudly.
‘Jesus, Evan, give me a chance.’
He felt better already, pictured an indignant glare at her watch. Unconsciously moved his head to accept a slap around the back of it.
‘I thought you’d get straight on it,’ he said for the fun of it.
He heard her counting to ten in her head on the other end of the line.
‘Still in your PJs?’ he said when he reckoned she’d got to six or seven.
‘I don’t wear my PJs to work, Evan.’
Now he heard the smile.
‘Donut’s loss.’
She didn’t even bother to tell him not to call Ryder that. Somehow, she’d sensed where he was, the things his mind was doing to him, why he’d really called. She asked him what he had planned.
‘I thought I’d try staying alive.’
‘Don’t be an ass. That’s not funny.’
So he told her.
There was a stunned silence from her end after he explained where he was going, why he believed Jay was already there. When she did speak, she didn’t even try to hide her incredulity.
‘You gave him the guy’s name?’
He let his own silence answer for him, let the waves of her anger break over him. He was still glad he’d called.
‘You don’t think that was a bit stupid? Even for you. That it might have very serious consequences?’
It was then that a thought crossed his mind. It might be that he’d drawn a blank searching for a gun, not because of Sarah, but because Jay had it with him, had taken it to give Beau Layfield some of his own.
‘Yeah, I suppose so. I better get over there.’
‘Let’s hope it’s not already too late. And Evan?’
‘What?’
‘Call this guy Dalton, the one you lied to about Adamson. Get him to meet you there.’
He promised her he would. And he meant it too. Then she said she had to go.
‘Be careful you idiot.’
He felt a lot better after that, ended the call with a lighter heart. As promised, he called Dalton as he walked back to his car, didn’t waste a moment. Because he wouldn’t want that kind of shit to come back and bite him on the ass. He fished the opened-out Marlboro pack out of his pocket, dialed the number Dalton had scribbled on the back. It went straight to voicemail. He left a message, told him where he was going, what he was doing.
Then he turned the car around with a clear conscience, drove back down the dirt road to meet the shitstorm head on.
Chapter 52
JAY WAS AWARE of strong hands on him, of being flipped onto his front. A heavy rope landed on the back of his legs from somewhere. They bound his ankles, then his wrists behind his back. One of them threw a bucket of cold water in his face, brought him coughing and spluttering back to full consciousness.
‘It’s not very sporting to just throw you in there with him,’ Cody said, nodding sideways at the giant bull’s stall.
‘For you or Bo,’ Junior added. ‘It can’t be much fun for a bull, just stomping all over a tied-up man’s head.’
Then Cody pulled Jay’s shirt out of his pants, bared his stomach. He jabbed at the hard muscle with his finger, nodded appreciatively.
‘Good abs. Let’s see how long they’ll last.’
He threw the loose end of the rope up and over one of the rafters. Then the two of them hauled Jay up, feet first. By the time he was vertical, only his shoulder and the side of his head resting at an angle on the ground, they were cussing and sweating like pigs.
‘Get the pickup,’ Junior said.
They both let go of the rope. Jay’s body hung motionless for a moment, then toppled like a felled tree. With the side of his face in the dirt and straw, he was able to see directly under the bottom slat of the stall, see the hooves and lower legs of the bull, the angry twitching of its tail, as it moved around inside. He couldn’t take his eyes off it, the restless pacing. As if it knew what was coming, a game they’d played before. One it enjoyed. The next thing he knew the barn doors were open, Cody backing the pickup in, exhaust fumes washing over his head.
Cody waited in the cab while Junior secured the loose end to the trailer hitch. Then he pulled forward, took up the slack. Suddenly Jay was in mid-air, swaying gently back and forth, winched slowly up as Cody edged the pickup forwards. Junior coordinated it like a construction worker guiding a crane’s load into position, wrestling Jay’s writhing body over the interior of the stall. Then the pickup backed up again, Cody following Junior’s shouted instructions, until Jay’s head was four feet off the ground, his back flat against the inside of the stall door.
The bull glared at the intrusion into its personal space. Standing five foot nine at the withers, a flick of its massive head gave its horns a reach of seven feet.
The intruder dangling in front of him was six foot two. The standard proportions of a human male bent ninety degrees at the waist is four heads upper body to three and a half heads legs.
Which meant if Jay jack-knifed at the waist when the bull charged, the animal’s horns might barely kiss his ass, maybe not at all.
But if Cody backed the pickup in another foot—or Junior’s knot slipped on the trailer hitch—he could kiss his ass goodbye.
Standing head-on to Jay, the bull glowered at him with eyes of molten hatred, a deep growling reverberating around the stall. It shook its head a couple of times, lowered it when Jay didn’t heed the warning. Shoulders hunched, neck curved to the side towards Jay, it pawed angrily at the ground with its right forefoot, kicking dirt and straw into the slats behind it.
Jay stared upside down at the bull as it grew increasingly irritated, the prospect of being crushed or gored to death dependant on the strength and stamina of his stomach muscles. The smell of his fear was strong in his nose, sweat pouring out of his body, soaking into his shirt, sticking it to his skin.
Which was a good thing. Because his shirt was still untucked from when Cody pulled it out to pretend to admire his six pack. It was slipping downwards under the force of gravity, would have hung down over his face, stealing his vision, leaving him blind in front of the bull if the sweat wasn’t sticking it to his skin. The sweat was a bad thing too. The shirt became heavier as the sweat soaked into it. So it was slipping after all. Just more slowly than before.
The sweat was in his eyes too, stinging, blurring his vision. He couldn’t risk shaking his head, trying to clear them. The bull would see it as mirroring its own aggressive head-shaking warnings. A challenge would have been issued.
He blinked rapidly in a vain attempt to clear his eyes. They were only closed for a split second. But in that time, a sharp pain stabbed him in the ribs. He jerked upwards, not all the way, a kind of cry escaping his lips, an animal sound, like the yelp of a kicked dog. He half expected to see the bull beneath him, his blood dripping into its eyes as it glared up at him.
It was only Junior, jabbing him in the ribs with the axe handle. At the same time the
re was a faint thud. As if something had been thrown at the side of the barn. Junior stopped in the middle of prodding at Jay a second time. Cody paused in his tracks, halfway between the pickup and the stall. Both men cocked their heads to listen. Jay felt every second crawl past, hoped somebody was outside, would at any minute step into the barn, put an end to this nightmare. But no more sounds came beyond the low whistle of the wind between the two rows of outbuildings and the restless movement of the other animals in the barn. Cody resumed walking back to the stall.
‘Must have been the wind.’
Jay hoped to hell he’d pulled the parking brake on good and hard.
‘I’ve got an idea,’ Cody said. The amusement in his voice said it was a good one, one everybody except Jay would like, including the bull.
He reached through the slats, grabbed hold of the rope around Jay’s wrists, pulled them towards him. Jay crunched his stomach muscles, jack-knifed at the waist, convinced Cody was about to hold him against the slats to let the bull gore him at its leisure.
‘Whoa,’ Cody yelled as the rope was ripped out of his fingers. ‘I’m gonna untie your hands. Give you the axe handle. Even things up a bit.’
Jay didn’t move, his upper body horizontal, quivering with the effort. Because he wasn’t as young as he used to be. Or as fit.
‘Up to you,’ Cody said. ‘Or are you planning on staying like that all day? Because if you are, I might have to back the pickup up another two feet. It ain’t fair, you hanging there, taunting poor old Bo like that where he can’t get at you. Or maybe I’ll fetch a couple coils of baling wire, see how many I can balance on your chest. It’s heavy stuff, that baling wire.’
On the far side of the stall the bull had paused pawing at the ground, as if it too were waiting to see which way Jay would go. The deep growling was still there like a background rumble. It gave a quick flick of its horns, head lowered again.
‘I ain’t ever seen old Bo looking so mad,’ Junior laughed. ‘Not since one of the dogs got caught in there with him anyways. We had to hose what was left of that poor critter off his horns.’
Jay ignored the taunting words, concentrated on the sounds of the bull somewhere below and behind him. He didn’t have a choice. He was going to have to trust Cody. Carefully, he lowered himself, the bull gradually coming into his field of vision as his head swung downwards. First the horns, then the malevolence of its eyes, the breadth of its chest and finally the forefeet that had started up pawing the ground again. Then his back hit the slats, stomach muscles relaxing, a long exhalation slipping through his gritted teeth.
‘Reckon you made the right choice,’ Cody said. ‘Don’t reckon you’ve got too many more of those in you.’
He put his arm through the slats, patted Jay on the stomach as he said it, made sure his meaning hadn’t been missed. It was about as necessary as being reminded that you’d just been run over by a truck. Then he took hold of Jay’s wrists again with one hand, got a better grip, held them firmly against the slats to make it easier to work on the knot. An adrenal spike of fear went through Jay, a surge of panic. He’d been tricked. Cody was tying him to the slats.
That’s when old Bo got sick of threats, sick of being ignored.
He charged.
Chapter 53
EVAN FOUND THE STONE portals of Layfield Farms with no problem, turned onto the dirt road. Immediately before the crest of the hill he pulled off the road and parked. He had no idea what was on the other side of the hill. All he had was a bad feeling. He didn’t want to advertise his arrival.
He made his way down the other side of the hill making the most of what little cover there was, went past the turn leading to the house, then on towards the outbuildings. Jay’s car was parked in front of them, nobody in sight. The hood was still warm to the touch. He opened the driver’s door, leaned inside. A quick glance told him that if Jay had brought a gun with him, he had it on him.
He crossed to the other side of the yard where a dusty pickup was parked. The back was chock-full of fence posts and baling wire. And because any weapon is better than no weapon at all, he grabbed one of the fence posts.
Ahead of him a main track led between the outbuildings, a big barn at the far end. He crept down between the outbuildings, glancing into them as he passed, keeping to the shadows. Twenty yards from the barn at the end he froze, pushed his back into the wall. A man’s laughter rang out, coming from inside the barn. He’d heard Jay laugh the day before. This was a very different sound. Like the person laughing was a little unbalanced. Edging closer, he made out the low rumble of men’s voices. He couldn’t make out the words. Then some he could.
Get the pickup.
Louder, clearer, as if they were coming towards him. Then footsteps on the other side of the barn doors. He dipped into the nearest outbuilding, back pressed tightly into the wall, as the barn doors swung open. A man’s footsteps came towards him on the other side of the wall, striding out purposefully towards the pickup. If he’d been asked to describe those footsteps in just one word, it would be excited. Almost tripping over his own feet. He imagined the look on the face that went with it, the gleam in the eyes.
He stayed with his back against the wall as the pickup drove up the track to just beyond the barn doors, then backed halfway in. Then nothing. The cab door didn’t open. The driver didn’t get out.
What the hell were they doing?
He had to find out. He edged along the wall until he got to the open door of the outbuilding. Dropped onto all fours, dipped his head lower still until his chin was nearly in the dirt, peeked around the edge of the door. The driver was still in the cab, twisted around in his seat to look out the rear window, right arm stretched along the top of the passenger seat.
He suddenly faced front, drove slowly forwards. Sat there and waited a while, the sound of the engine running the only noise. Then the pickup started to back up again, a man’s voice drifting out through the open barn doors.
Keep it coming, keep it coming.
Then an insistent stop!
Now the cab door opened, closely followed by the sound of feet hitting the ground, moving away. Evan pushed himself up, slipped outside. Edged his way along the wall towards the pickup. The sound of men’s voices was louder now. And even if the words were still indistinct, he had no trouble identifying the sentiments behind the them. The sound of men having fun at another’s expense, a joke not shared by all.
There was a sudden sharp yelp as he got to the barn door. He jerked backwards, half expected to hear the frantic scrabble of claws on a concrete floor, see a mangy dog tear out of the barn, tail between its legs. The fence post in his hand hit the wooden side of the barn with a loud thud. It sounded to him like he’d stood back to give himself room, swung it into the wall with everything he’d got. He froze. There was no dog. Just a pregnant silence that made him think of a finger held to tightly-closed lips, head and ears cocked his way.
He held his breath, ears straining for the soft scrape of a man’s shoe slowly creeping forward. When it didn’t come, he relaxed. Then stiffened again at the sound of more laughter, followed by a voice, the words clear as day from where he now stood.
I ain’t ever seen old Bo looking so mad.
The words paralyzed him.
Beau was in there with them.
He lowered himself slowly to the ground, stuck his head around the edge of the door. The driver of the pickup truck and another man were standing by one of the stalls in the barn, busy with something. He couldn’t see what.
Then a movement much closer to him caught his attention. Something quivering. Near the back of the pickup. His head snapped around and he saw it then, saw the rope tied to the trailer hitch, taut, vibrating in the still air of the barn. His eyes followed it up and towards where the two men stood, over a rafter above their heads, directly down into the stall they stood in front of.
And then it came to him, the horror taking his breath away.
Jay was suspended from that rope
. And God knows what was in the stall with him.
The pickup driver’s door was hanging open. The engine wasn’t running. But the keys were in the ignition. He came off the ground like a landmine had gone off beneath him, an explosion of movement up and forwards towards the pickup. His butt hit the seat as his fingers tightened around the ignition key. He turned it. The engine coughed.
‘Hey!’ Coming from one or both of the men, he couldn’t tell, didn’t care.
He turned the key again, almost snapped it. The engine turned over, coughed again like a heavy smoker on a cold morning. Then it fired. But the truck was already moving. Backwards. He’d released the parking brake as he turned the ignition the first time. Jay’s weight and gravity were doing the rest.
He jammed the shift into first. Stomped on the gas, pedal to the metal. The pickup jerked forward four feet. There was an almighty bang, made him think he’d crashed into the building opposite. He hit the brakes, head whipping around in time to see the slats of the stall the two men had been standing in front of a second ago bulge outwards a second time, the creaking of the wood melding with the bellow of the beast inside.
And high above the raging animal, Jay, bent double at the waist, not caring that he was already out of reach, not taking any chances because the bastard animal below him looked like it could jump six feet in the air.
The two guys were on their asses on the floor staring at the straining slats as the bull butted them over and over again, their one shared thought written all over their faces: what’s gonna give first?
Evan couldn’t pull forward any further. Jay’s feet were already at the rafter. He killed the engine, wrenched the parking brake on with both hands. Jammed the shift back in gear. Jumped out, pulled a fence post from the back, chocked the rear wheel with it. He wasn’t taking any chances.
The Road To Deliverance Page 27