Rugged Cowboy

by Elana Johnson

  He surely had gotten that truck somewhere else, because it had had a lot of problems.

  Josh was unmarried, not addicted to the stuff his goons sold across the city, and the enforcer within the group. He’d been in prison before, and he wasn’t afraid to go back. That was the main difference between him, Nate, and Ted, none of whom wanted to ever see the inside of a prison again.

  They’d spoken for many long hours about what they should do, what they shouldn’t, and what was right. Dallas had offered to find someone to get Martha out and get her into a treatment facility. Ted had said they couldn’t really trust anyone but the three of them.

  The Warden wasn’t going to get involved, and neither were any of Ted’s still-practicing lawyer friends. Jesus knew a lot of people in the underground, and they’d gotten the most information from him—and the Internet.

  Martha was not living with her mother, and Dallas had been most relieved about that. Her mom probably was giving her money, either knowingly or unknowingly. He’d been hoping and praying she wasn’t stealing from her mother, but he’d known drug addicts in River Bay, and he’d heard Slate say once that he’d have done anything—anything—to get his next fix. If that meant he had to hack into his mother’s bank account, he’d have done it.

  They still hadn’t gone up to River Bay to see their friends, but they had plans to go on the day after Christmas. The Warden had given them permission for the special visitation, and they’d been collecting gifts for Luke and Slate for the past couple of weeks.

  Dallas really, really hoped he’d be in good enough shape to attend the visit. Something sat in his gut that felt very much like a lead brick, and he hadn’t been able to get rid of it for a week now.

  They’d been ready to make this flight for that long, but they needed time to brainstorm and plan, strategize and agree on what they would and wouldn’t do.

  None of them were anonymous, Dallas knew that. Josh was a criminal, sure, but that didn’t make him stupid. In fact, quite the opposite, and all three of them had agreed that they were walking into a dog fight.

  He just wanted to get Martha somewhere safe, which would save him, Thomas, and Remmy in the process. Dallas took in a deep breath and focused on getting out of this airport. The thing was huge, and he still wasn’t used to being around so many people.

  Sweet Water Falls was a small town of maybe fifteen thousand. The ranch was even smaller, with less than fifty people there each day. The noise bothered him, distracted him, and made him question why he’d left his kids behind in Texas.

  His heart squeezed for Thomas and Remmy, and the next person in his mind was Jess. She was far too good for him, and he didn’t know how to make up the difference between them. He wanted to; he wanted to be the man she deserved. One who could make his own daughter’s birthday cake and one who didn’t have an ex-wife addicted to alcohol and speed, who’d left her children behind, and run away from an adult life.

  Nate led the group, as Nate always had, and he’d flagged down a cab by the time Dallas wove through the crowd and made it outside. He slipped his backpack off his shoulder and got in the car last, setting his pack on the floor near his feet.

  “Westside Drive,” Nate said. “Near Pier 79, please.”

  The driver started tapping on his own phone, and Dallas’s confidence took a dive. He didn’t say anything as they pulled away from the curb, and no one in the back seat did either. Dallas just wanted to exist inside his own head until he had time and space to examine his true thoughts. He hated worrying about what hadn’t happened yet, and he just wanted this whole ordeal to be over.

  He’d never been to Miami, and he hoped he’d never come back. The blue water glistened beyond the pier when the cab came to a stop, and Dallas got out of the car first. Nate paid on his way out, and the three of them stood there in the weak, winter sunlight, looking back down the block.

  They’d purposely designed their plan to have them dropped off a couple of blocks away from where Martha was reportedly staying. They’d split up; they each had a room in a different hotel. They’d watch the building for a day to see if they could catch sight of Martha or Josh.

  Jesus had sent several pictures of other known associates of Josh and the gang, and Dallas had spent far too many evenings studying them after his children had gone to bed and before they’d come back in to sleep with him.

  Part of him wanted to see them, and part of him didn’t. He wanted to be in the right place, but he didn’t want to deal with anyone. If Martha would only listen to him. He’d called her almost daily since Thanksgiving, and she’d answered her phone in the beginning.

  After about a week, she’d told him to stop calling and to leave her alone. No amount of pleading, begging, or explaining had swayed her, and he wondered how she could’ve changed so completely from the woman he’d known and loved.

  It’s not really her, Nate had said. Those are the drugs talking.

  Dallas couldn’t help thinking that if she hadn’t started drinking and using, she might have been the one to pick him up from River Bay. Her and the kids. They’d still be living in the sprawling house in Houston, and his life would be back to the one he’d left to serve his time.

  In his quiet moments, he knew that wasn’t what he wanted. Things happened that changed situations so completely that they simply couldn’t be recreated. He’d forgiven her for abandoning him, but not for doing the same to Thomas and Remmy. He could handle disappointment; his children had already had more than enough.

  “Let’s meet for dinner,” Nate said. “Seven, point one.” With that, he was gone. Dallas watched him go, his step sure and his stride long. When he’d first met Nate, he’d wanted to be exactly like him. Certain and confident, contemplative and kind. He was smart as a whip too, and dedicated to always doing what was right.

  Dallas looked at Ted, who looked up at the tall building next to them. “What do you think?”

  “It’s not my brain that’s having the issues,” Dallas said. “It’s my gut, and it’s saying we just need to get this over with.”

  “Maybe you just go in there, then,” Ted said.

  That brought a healthy dose of fear to Dallas’s heart, stomach, and mind, and he couldn’t comment again. His thoughts derailed, and he shook his head. “Let’s stick to the plan for now.”

  “Okay,” Ted said. “Just don’t do anything stupid, okay? If you decide to go in, call us.”

  Dallas nodded and said, “See you at seven.” He went down the block toward the housing unit, his goal to find somewhere to sit where he could watch the proceedings. He crossed the street, keeping one eye on the building as if he expected a swarm of heavily armed men to come out and start firing shots.

  No one did, and he made it to a bench that a mother and her son were sitting on. He flashed them the best smile he could under the circumstances and sat on the other end. He sighed and opened his backpack to take out the bottle of water he’d gotten on the plane.

  He pulled his phone out of his pocket and pretended to look at it. He watched and watched, seeing a couple of men he recognized from the pictures Jesus had sent. No one else seemed to be going in or out, and Dallas started to wonder if the residents were allowed to leave or not.

  Once the work day ended, the streets got busier, and so did the revolving door at the building. Dallas sat, watching the world go by. He felt like he was the only one sitting still and everyone and everything else rushed by in a blur.

  The crowds had started to thin when a man sat on the bench beside Dallas, not down on the other end. “Hello, Dallas,” he said, and Dallas turned to look at him.

  He had not been anyone in the pictures. He was no one Dallas had ever seen before. He wore a suit and tie and sighed as he set a briefcase between their feet. “What are you doing here?”

  “Do I know you?” Dallas asked.

  “No.” The man kept looking straight ahead. “And you don’t want to know me. I don’t want to know you either. I just want to know why you
’re here.”

  “My ex-wife is in trouble,” Dallas said.

  “And you think you can save her.”

  “No,” Dallas said. “I just want to be left alone.”

  The guy said nothing, and Dallas continued to study him. He had dark hair and dark eyes that didn’t settle on anything. He radiated a coldness from his expression that kept people away, and Dallas wanted to get up and go meet his friends for dinner. He kept his hands folded in his lap, and Dallas noticed a triangular tattoo on the inside of his wrist. He wasn’t sure what it meant, if anything. He knew he just wanted to leave.

  He didn’t dare move.

  “What do we need to do to make that happen?” the man finally asked.

  “Tell me who you are,” Dallas said. “And where my wife is. I’m taking her home with me.”

  “What if she doesn’t want to go?”

  “It’s not her choice at this point,” Dallas said. “Her behavior is a threat to me and my children, and I simply cannot allow it to continue.” Saying that so clearly, in such a strong voice, made him feel like he could bring a resolution to this conflict.

  The man stood up and made no effort to pick up his briefcase. “Let’s go talk to her then.” He walked away, and Dallas stared after him.

  “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Dallas,” the man said. “Bring that briefcase, would you?”

  Dallas got to his feet and turned his back on the guy. He bent to pick up his backpack while he dialed Nate, and then he retrieved the briefcase too. He really hoped this thing didn’t have a bomb inside and that he wasn’t walking into the belly of the beast.

  “Dallas?” Nate asked.

  “What’s your name?” Dallas asked, hurrying to catch up to him.

  “Adam,” he said.

  “That’s not your real name,” Dallas said.

  “You don’t need to know my real name.”

  “You know mine.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “To see your wife,” he said. “That’s what you wanted, right?”

  “Yes,” Dallas said. “This is what? Hudson Street?” He tried to talk loud enough to get the message to Nate, and his friend didn’t try to talk to him again.

  The man stopped in front of the next building down to the one Dallas had been watching. He nodded to the doorman, as this building was much nicer than the one beside it. “She’s in unit 2B,” he said, opening the door for Dallas. “You’ll need the briefcase.”

  Dallas looked into his eye. “What does she owe you?”

  The man frowned, his glare intensifying. “I’m not sure.”

  “Don’t treat me like I’m stupid,” Dallas growled, getting right into the man’s face. “I know she owes a bunch of money, because I’ve already worked off four grand of it while my children cried for their father. If you don’t know what she owes, find out. I’m not going in there until I know and pay it off.”

  His fingers clenched tightly around the handle of the briefcase. “I’m not taking this, and I am leaving here with my wife, all of her debts settled.”

  “I’ll need a moment,” he said.

  “Take it,” Dallas said, his voice strong though he didn’t feel quite as tough. “You can find a thousand other people to hook on your drugs. It’s not going to be Martha anymore.”

  The man nodded and lifted his phone to his ear. He stepped away, and Dallas couldn’t hear what he was saying. He quickly put his own phone in position and said, “Nate, I’m at 1155 Hudson Street. Martha’s in Unit 2B. Sending you a picture of the guy now.”

  He hung up and snapped a picture of the man after he’d turned around, his phone still glued to his face. He did not look happy. Dallas did not care. Some of his attitude that he’d adopted in prison had returned, and his determination to get this situation settled had renewed.

  He put the briefcase on the ground, sent the photo to Nate, who confirmed that he and Ted were on the way, and looked at Adam when he said, “Sixteen thousand.”

  Dallas nodded. “All I need is an account number, and I can have the money wired within three minutes.”

  “Your banks aren’t closed?”

  “No,” Dallas said, because Nate had more money than Dallas had ever seen in his lifetime, and he had a banker in his pocket too. “Old family friend,” he’d said, but Nate’s voice and eyes hadn’t displayed any friendship at the time.

  “I’ve got my guy standing by,” Dallas said. “You can confirm when you have the money, and I’ll go get Martha.”

  Adam kept his frown in place, and it suited him so much more than the seemingly innocent businessman just walking home from work. He gave Dallas a bank account number, and Dallas dialed Sam Wiseman, the vice-president of the bank where Nate had all his money.

  Dallas didn’t turn away or look away from Adam as he said, “Yeah, hi, Sam. It’s Dallas. I have that account number for you. I need sixteen thousand wired to it immediately.”

  Sam started talking, clicking happening in the brief stretches of silence. “From Mister Mulbury’s account?”

  “Yes, sir,” Dallas said, knowing Nate had all of this set up already.

  “I’m going to need the PIN,” Sam said.

  Dallas recited it to him, and Sam said, “This account has two-step authorization on it. Do you know the username?”

  “WardenConnor4,” Dallas said. When said quickly, one could hear, “Ward and Connor, four,” and that was exactly why Nate had chosen it. He missed his brother terribly, and though he hadn’t said much about it, the three of them were planning to take Connor to see his parents in White Lake after the family celebration at River Bay the day after Christmas.

  Not only that, but they’d go by Ward’s old house and see how it was doing. Nate had mentioned that he should probably think about selling it. He hadn’t said why he hadn’t done that yet; he hadn’t had to put it so plainly into words.

  “The account number where the money is going?” Sam asked, and Dallas gave that to him.

  “It is after hours in Miami,” Sam said. “This could take up to fifteen minutes to show as a pending deposit.”

  “Thank you,” Dallas said as politely as he could without turning into a softie in front of Adam.

  “Is that all?” Sam asked, his tone clipped and professional.

  “Yes,” Dallas said. “Thanks again.” He ended the call and nodded to Adam’s phone. “He said it could take up to fifteen minutes.” Nate and Ted should be there by then, and Dallas was determined to wait for them. Something was screaming through his head that he should not enter this building alone.

  Five minutes passed before Adam said, “It’s here.”

  “I’m going to need something that says we’re in the clear,” Dallas said. “I don’t want you or anyone who knows you, works for you, has ever seen me or Martha in their lifetime coming to Texas again. We’re all off-limits. Is that clear?”

  Adam snarled at Dallas, who didn’t even flinch. He’d lived with the men who’d nearly killed him for three months after the beating. This guy was nothing. Less than nothing.

  “We don’t give receipts,” Adam said.

  “Make an exception.” Dallas folded his arms and glared at Adam. He became aware of movement, and he’d never felt stronger than when Nate stepped to his left side and Ted to his right.

  “Who’s this guy?” Ted asked.

  “No one,” Dallas said. “He’s going to give me confirmation in writing that the debt is settled, and then we’re going to get Martha.”

  “In writing?”

  “That’s right,” Nate said. “And if you try to say he owes you more at any time in the future, we know about fifty lawyers between us.”

  “And cops,” Ted said, looking at Dallas and Nate. “I mean, the feds are always looking to make a big drug bust, aren’t they?”

  The three of them glared at Adam, who had the guts and confidence to stare right back. “Fine,” he said. “Who has something I can w
rite on?”

  Nate swung his backpack off his shoulder and produced a small notebook with a black pen. Adam scrawled a note on it, signed his name with a flourish, and handed everything back. “You really will need to take the briefcase,” he said. “It’s the signal that you’re safe.”

  “Fine,” Dallas said, and Nate stooped to retrieve it.

  “Pleasure doing business with you.” Adam smiled then—actually had the audacity to smile—and saluted as he walked away.

  Dallas finally got enough air in his lungs. He looked at Ted and then Nate. “Unit 2B,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “No, it is not okay, Martha,” Dallas said as Jess entered his house, both of his kids behind her. She stopped instantly and turned back to them.

  “Thomas,” she said as Dallas started to say something else. “Will you please take Remmy back out to the mailbox? I think your dad was expecting something today.”

  Thomas had already heard his father’s frustrated voice, and he looked behind Jess, who had blocked the door. “All right,” he said.

  “Thanks.” Jess held his eye and tried to give him a reassuring smile. “And Tommy, maybe run next door and ask Mrs. Clyde if she’ll let you two have some ice cream.”

  His face brightened then, and as he walked back down the sidewalk they’d already come up, Jess quickly texted Mrs. Clyde that they needed a few minutes to sort something out. She responded with, I’ll get the cookies and cream out now and a smiley face.

  Jess had met her only a few days ago, when Dallas had left for Miami. She’d been the emergency contact on the sheet of paper he’d left for her. The kids knew her, and they liked her. She loved them, and she’d brought Jess dinner on Saturday night.

  Dallas had returned on Sunday evening, Martha in tow. She did not look good, and she’d been mean and crying when Jess had met her.

  That was just yesterday, and Jess had left the children at the ranch while she’d come to see what they were dealing with. It hadn’t been pretty, and Jess had cried the whole way back to the ranch. She’d kept the children at the ranch with her that morning, where they all fed and watered horses, rode horses, ate hot dogs and potato chips, and kept trying to guess what was in the packages under the tree in the West Wing.