And then another awful thought hit her. Barb Lamkin was the mother of the baby Ronnie had been caring for since birth and was hoping to adopt. Susanne didn’t want to have to be the one to tell Ronnie. She hoped someone was calling her. Had already called her.
For once, she wished she were in the mountains with her family. She was actually envious of their disconnect from what was going on. They’d be so upset when they heard the news. All Susanne could hope for was that Johnson County would have their escapee back in custody by the time Patrick and the kids returned.
Chapter Eight: Sulk
Solitude Trail, Cloud Peak Wilderness, Bighorn Mountains, Wyoming
Friday, August 12, 1977, Noon
Trish
Wind buffeted Trish as she reined Goldie to a stop on a rocky saddle overlooking a deep basin. Her butt was killing her, and she hoped they were finally stopping for lunch. She eased weight off her tush and looked around. Above them, fields of boulders covered a half-ring of low summits. In the distance, she spied Black Tooth Mountain for the first time since they’d started riding. Only yesterday she’d seen it from the air—whenever she’d had her head out of a paper bag, anyway. The view was amazing, and she wished Ben were with her. He’d love it.
She regretted forcing him out of the truck the night before. At the time, she’d been so upset with him. He was probably really mad at her. As soon as they got back, she would make it up to him. But their fight hadn’t changed anything for her. She loved him. She was more determined than ever to graduate early and follow him to Laramie. She couldn’t lose him.
“Looks like a snaggle tooth.” Perry pointed at Black Tooth. “That mountain needs to see a dentist.”
Trish thought it was mildly humorous, but she kept her lips in a straight line. Her dad, of course, laughed like Perry’s comment was the funniest thing anyone had ever said. John barely glanced at Perry, and he didn’t make a sound.
Henry chuckled, then he shouted to be heard over the wind. “That’s our last descent, up ahead. Down in the basin is the east fork of Little Goose Creek.” Of course, Henry said it as “crick,” like everybody in Wyoming did. “Highland Park’s just over the next ridge.”
“Let’s get out of this wind and eat lunch,” her dad shouted back. “Would there be a good spot in the basin?”
Henry nodded. “Shelter would be good. I don’t like the looks of those clouds coming in from the north.”
Rats. No lunch yet. Trish looked back in the direction they’d come from. John had dropped his reins over his saddle horn and wrapped his arms around himself. The clouds behind him were dark and angry looking. So much for Henry’s almanac forecast. But she had enough mountain experience to know weather could turn on a dime up here. She sighed. At least she’d brought a heavy coat and rain slicker. Goldie heaved a big sigh, too.
Henry clucked to Spot, and the two of them led off down the trail.
Within a few minutes, the incline became very steep. Trees closed in on either side of the trail, and big boulders in the center made things even more treacherous.
“I don’t think Plug can do this.” John’s voice was scared.
Plug was crowding Goldie. He was picking up on John’s mood and it was making him less careful with his feet and spacing. Rocks started sliding into the back of Goldie’s legs. The mare snorted and flinched.
Patrick said, “Loosen his reins.” Trish’s dad sounded like he was right above her. She snuck a look back and had to look up. The trail was so steep, it was almost like they were in a pyramid, with Goldie at the base, Plug on her, Duke on Plug, and Reno on Duke. The sensation made her feel unbalanced, and she whipped her head around to face forward down the trail.
“He might run off.”
“He won’t. He knows what he’s doing. You’ve just got to let him.”
“But he keeps sliding. He’s going to fall.”
Perry said, “If Plug slides, Goldie will catch him.”
Not a comforting thought.
“Bad idea, Perry,” her dad said. “He’s got four-wheel drive, John. I’ve been watching him, and he’s had three feet on the ground the whole way down. Trust him. But you also need to stay a little further from the horse in front of you. That goes for all of you. We don’t need them sliding into each other or a hiker coming up the trail.”
Trish hoped John did what her dad had told him and gave her and Goldie some more space.
But the mention of hikers brought another discomforting thought to her mind. “Should we be worried that we haven’t seen another human since we left Park Reservoir?”
Her dad laughed. “Trish, nice to have you join us.”
“Huh?”
“You haven’t spoken all day.”
“Whatever,” she mumbled, pitching backward in the saddle as Goldie picked her way down a practically vertical section. At its base, the ground leveled out, and she joined Henry on a grassy area beside the trail where a creek trickled by.
“We’re at the bottom of the drainage,” Henry said. “This is a good lunch spot.”
John practically vaulted off his horse as soon as it stopped. His legs were shaking so hard that he nearly fell when he hit the ground. He looked over at Trish, and she pretended she hadn’t noticed anything. Perry and her dad joined the group.
“Trish and Perry, hobble the horses, please.” Her dad dismounted.
Trish didn’t bother grumbling. Someone had to do it so the horses could graze without running off. “You hold them. I’ll hobble them,” she said to Perry.
He nodded, gathering up the reins of the five animals. Her dad stood beside Reno rummaging in his saddle bag. Trish fished hobbles out of the horses’ saddle bags and started with Goldie, fastening the straps around first one front leg, then the other. When she was done, she took off the mare’s bridle and replaced it with a halter, then set the bridle aside and turned her loose. She started on Duke next.
“John, put this on.” Her dad tossed his jacket to Perry’s friend.
John didn’t argue.
“I should have checked that he’d brought one before we left the house,” her dad said, low under his breath so John couldn’t hear.
Trish couldn’t believe anyone would come up into the mountains for a weekend without bringing a coat. But then Perry had said John was from the east coast somewhere. Maybe his parents weren’t outdoorsy like hers were. She moved on to hobble Spot.
“How’s Hank doing?” her dad asked Henry, still rooting around in Reno’s bag.
Henry grunted, “Oh, great. Vangie and I don’t get any sleep. You know how it goes.”
“That I do.” Her dad closed Reno’s bag and started passing out peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Trish stuck hers in her pocket and got back to hobbling. “And Ben?”
Trish paused mid-hobble on Spot.
That question got a sigh. “Good overall, but last night he walked home from Lake Desmet. Said his friends left him there. I don’t know what to make of it.”
Trish hated hearing the story from Henry. She felt even more guilty about leaving Ben. She hoped he didn’t hate her. He had to forgive her. He just had to. She moved her hair away from her ear to hear better, then started Reno’s hobbles.
“Even the best of teenagers can be tough to raise.” Her dad raised his eyebrows at Trish. She didn’t react. “You’re doing good by him. It can’t be easy for the kid after what he’s been through.”
Trish wanted to stick up for Ben. To tell them all what a great person he was, but she restrained herself. No one else could know about their relationship yet, and if she said any of the things she wanted to, she’d give herself away. Finished with Plug, she settled on the ground by John and unwrapped her sandwich. The boys were quiet as they wolfed down their food.
Henry said, “Speaking of things that aren’t easy, how was the trial?”
The two men copped a squat and continued talking about Coach Lamkin between bites. Trish listened to their conversation and watched the horses. They’d gr
azed their way over to the stream. Goldie had hopped her hobbled front feet into it and was standing there with water cascading out the sides of her mouth.
Perry stuffed his empty sandwich bag in his pocket. “Coach Lamkin could get the death penalty.”
Her dad said, “Unlikely, son. She’s a woman who’s had a baby in prison. I can’t see a jury sentencing her to death.”
“Life in prison at least?”
“I sure hope so.”
Trish hated thinking about Coach Lamkin. She’d trusted her. She’d liked her. And the coach had just been using her to keep tabs on Perry and the Flint family, plus she’d tried to kill her and Perry and her mom. Testifying against her old coach, with the woman sitting there staring daggers at her the whole time, had been awful. But Trish had held her head high and told her story, even though it was humiliating to admit she’d been totally fooled by her. If it meant Coach Lamkin would get life in prison, it was more than worth it.
When they’d all finished their sandwiches, they caught their horses, re-bridled them, removed the hobbles, and got back on the trail. This time, Trish hung back behind John and Perry, in front of her dad. She slowed Goldie down to create some distance between her and Duke. Goldie didn’t like it and pulled at the reins. The mare was happiest tightly packed in the middle of a group. But Trish needed to talk to her dad, and she knew he’d never be more receptive than when he was out doing what he loved.
“Dad, can I talk to you?” she said.
His voice sounded amused. “You can, and I’m glad you finally want to.”
Luckily, her back was to him and he couldn’t see her roll her eyes. “I’ve made a decision about school.”
“Oh, yeah? What’s that?”
“I’m going to take extra classes this year and next summer.”
“That’s ambitious. Why?”
“To graduate early. I’m so done with high school and this town.”
She braced herself for his response. It was swift and decisive.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Dad, I’m at the top of my class, I’m mature, I’m responsible, and I don’t have anything to stick around for. Marcy and I aren’t even friends anymore.” Marcy had been her best friend until Coach Lamkin was arrested and fired. For some crazy reason, Marcy had felt more loyalty to the basketball coach who killed people than to her best friend. She and Marcy weren’t enemies, but they would never be the same. “And I hate being in the same town as Brandon. It’s embarrassing. People are mean to me now that his mom is in jail, too.” Some people in town blamed Trish, when she was the one Donna’s brothers had kidnapped, which made zero sense. And it had been Donna who’d tried to get revenge on the Flints for Patrick killing one of her brothers and the other one going to prison. The fact that Ben had known she’d hired a hit man and had told the cops was no one’s fault but Donna’s.
“I thought you were with Marcy just last night.”
Trish ground her teeth. That lie had been the wrong one to tell. “Um, I was. But, like, with a big group of people. It’s not the same thing.”
“Well, those aren’t good reasons to run away.”
“I wouldn’t be running away. I’d be going off to college.”
“Seventeen is too young to leave home.”
“Dad, lots of people do.”
“You’re not lots of people.”
She clenched her fist on her saddle horn, opening and closing it, opening and closing it. “I can’t believe you won’t even consider it.”
“I did. Consider it considered, and now let’s enjoy our time in the wilderness.”
Trish squeezed her heels into Goldie’s ribs. The horse shot forward, eager to close the gap between herself and Duke. The narrow trail passed through fields of boulders on either side, and, as Goldie loped, Trish fumed. Her dad never said yes to anything. But she wasn’t giving up so easily.
Chapter Nine: Crash
East Fork of Little Goose Creek, Cloud Peak Wilderness, Bighorn Mountains, Wyoming
Friday, August 12, 1977, 1:00 p.m.
Perry
“I can’t wait to throw the ball around when we get there.” Perry had insisted that his dad make room for his football in Duke’s saddle bags.
But despite Perry dangling out the lure of football, John didn’t respond. It was like Perry was talking to a wall. He hadn’t been able to get John to talk for the last hour.
Perry tried again. “The air is thinner up here. We’ll be able to really sail that thing.”
Still, no response from John.
He was beginning to regret inviting his friend. John wasn’t very good on a horse, and he was kind of a fraidy cat. Perry would never have believed it if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, but John had been terrified coming down the last hill. He was shivering, too, even wearing Perry’s dad’s heavy jacket. Perry was barely even cold.
He leaned forward as Duke lunged up a steep section. Ahead of him, he heard John say, “Whoa,” and saw him pull back on Plug’s reins. Even Perry knew that was exactly the wrong thing to do when a horse was climbing, and he wasn’t much of a horseman. Not like his dad and sister were.
A gust of wind caught the inside of his jacket and made it into a sail. He batted it flat again. The higher they rode, the harder the wind was blowing. It was mostly coming from behind them, which should have made the climbing easier, but that didn’t seem to make the horses any less unhappy about it. They all had their tails tucked and heads down.
A sharp thunk got his attention. Something had hit his saddle. There was another thunk, but this time whatever it was pelted him in the head. And then there was no distinguishing between the millions of thunks that all sounded at once, because hail was falling from the sky like someone had dumped a truck load of marbles down from heaven.
John screamed so loud that Perry heard him over the hail. He dropped Plug’s reins and pulled the coat over his head.
“Get in the trees,” his dad yelled.
But there really wasn’t much in the way of trees nearby. Just little scrubby ones way off the trail. Perry rode Duke over there anyway, putting the trees between himself and the direction the hail was falling from. It helped. Soon the horses and riders were clustered together so tightly that Perry felt the steam coming off of Reno’s flanks beside him.
His dad leaned down from Reno and patted Perry on the shoulder. “Are we having fun yet?”
Perry groaned. “Not hardly.”
Henry said, “You all need your rain gear.”
But it was already too late for slickers. The hail was mixed with rain. They were all sopping wet, except for Trish, who had managed to get her rain jacket on before the worst of the storm started. Of course—Trish always did everything right.
The pounding went on for a long time, maybe ten minutes. When it stopped, the sun came out immediately. It was straight overhead and brilliant, but the skies in front of and behind them were black. Deep black. Perry was afraid they weren’t through with the storm yet.
“That was intense,” he said.
Trish said, “Dad, we still have time to get back so I can go to the lake with Marcy.”
His dad frowned. “I thought you said she wasn’t your friend anymore.”
“I would really like to go home.” John’s quivering voice sounded strained.
Perry’s dad and Henry shared a long look.
His dad said, “Well, I guess—”
But whatever was going to come out of his dad’s mouth next, Perry would never know, because all of a sudden, a plane buzzed right over their heads, too low. Its engine was making a weird sputtering noise. They all stared at each other. Duke started pawing the ground. A few seconds later, there was a loud sound, almost like a boom, then screeching metal, and a banging and rumbling.
Perry knew it could only be one thing. The plane had crashed, just out of sight over the rise.
Chapter Ten: Steady
Flint Residence, Buffalo, Wyoming
> Friday, August 12, 1977, 2:00 p.m.
Susanne
Vangie bustled in, shaking her dark pixie hair, her eyes lively. She was balancing baby Hank on one hip, which was pulling down the waist band of her polka-dotted blue skirt. A bag of ice hung from her other hand. She was so tiny that it made Hank seem bigger than he was. “I’m sorry I’m early.” Her Tennessee accent was even stronger than usual. “But I hated that you were here by yourself when the news about Barb came in.” The two of them had discussed Barb’s getaway on the phone earlier, as well as the fact that the party would be held without electrical power.
Ferdinand shoved his nose into the back of Hank’s diaper.
“No, Ferdie.” Susanne pulled the dog away. “It’s okay. I’m bouncing back.”
And she was. She’d shed some tears in the shower—after she’d fetched the shotgun, loaded it, and put it beside the shower door—but after she’d gotten out, she’d steeled herself. Barb was not coming for her family. It was silly to think she would have wanted revenge more than her freedom. She was trying to escape. But one woman alone wouldn’t be able to evade law enforcement forever. They would catch up with her soon and put her back in jail where she belonged.
In the meantime, the person Susanne should be worrying about was Ronnie, not herself. Barb’s escape would rock her friend. Ronnie and Jeff were not childless by choice. Susanne knew they were on tenterhooks waiting for the chance to finalize the adoption. This setback, even if it was just a delay, wouldn’t be easy for them.
But it didn’t change things now. They had baby Will. This party would celebrate that and help them provide for him. Lord knows that child needed a good home. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like for him, the birth child of two incarcerated felons. Would they have called him Will Renkin or Will Lamkin? Either would have been a horrible cross to bear. Will had landed with the best parents she could have imagined, though. With the Harcourts, he would overcome his birth parents. The sky would be the limit for Will Harcourt.
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