I'll Sing for my Dinner

by BR Kingsolver

  Barney was still barking. I snuck a peek out the window, and saw that Alejandro and the others in the car just sat there.

  Grabbing my sneakers and socks from the foyer, I pulled them on as quickly as I could. I knew I wouldn’t be able to run in cowboy boots. Peeking out the window again, I saw someone stick their hand out of one of the car windows. The sound of the gunshot made me jump, and I felt as though my heart stopped for a moment.

  Barney let out a scream and twisted in a strange way. The gun fired two more times, and Barney lay in the dirt with a pool of blood around him. Mari took off running for the stable.

  My heart hammered in my chest. Rushing to the back door, I set the locks, including the one on the dog door, and slipped out. I tried to pull the door closed as quietly as I could. Crouching, I snuck toward the corner of the house. I was blocked from Alejandro’s view, but there would be a brief time that I was exposed between the house and the stable. If I was lucky, I could do it without anyone seeing me.

  I wasn’t sure how many of them were there. Alejandro for sure, and the driver. I thought the gun had been extended from the back seat, but with the angle I had, I couldn’t be sure. I decided I should assume there were four of them. Any more, and they would have brought another car.

  A part of me was planning, and another part was panicked so bad that I could barely breathe. I couldn’t see them, and they couldn’t see me. They might think no one was home. There weren’t any cars in front of the house. I didn’t know if they would send someone around to the back door, but I didn’t think I could stay where I was and take the chance.

  The shift I wore was an old one of Mary’s. Once it had been bright yellow, but was now faded with age. It probably hit her above the knee, but on me it hung to mid-calf. I worried that it might tangle around my legs when I ran so I pulled it up above my knees and tied a knot in it. Then I pulled my knife out and held it in my hand.

  I heard car doors slam. Lying down, I edged my eye around the corner of the building, trying to expose as little of myself as possible. I didn’t see anyone.

  Through the open window above me, I heard someone pounding on the front door. Jumping up, I sprinted toward the far end of the stable. As I passed through the open space where someone near the car might be able to see me, I chanced a look toward the car and saw a man’s back. My breathing and the blood pounding in my ears sounded as loud as a freight train, and I was sure Alejandro and his goons could hear it, even though they were a couple of hundred feet away from me.

  I peered around the corner of the building and didn’t see anyone coming toward me. I did hear them hammering on the front door of the house, and then a crash, and then silence.

  The copse of trees around the stream and the swimming hole where Jake and I picnicked was visible in the distance. Jake said it was two miles from the house. On horseback, it took us about half an hour to reach it, but we rode slowly. I had walked it a few times, and it took me about the same amount of time. If I ran straight toward it, no one would be able to see me from the house unless they were in Jared’s or Mary’s rooms on the second floor. The stable blocked the view from ground level.

  I took out my phone and found Jake’s number, then started jogging toward the trees. When I was far enough away that I was sure no one could hear me, I punched the call icon.

  “Hi, sweetheart,” Jake said. “What’s up?”

  “Jake, there are men from Baltimore at the house. They have guns. Call the police.” My speech probably sounded a bit strange. I was panting and the pounding of my feet on the ground gave what I was saying a sort of cadence.

  “Where are you?” All the playfulness was gone from his voice.

  “I’m running toward the swimming hole,” I told him. “I think I got away without being seen.”

  “Yes, that’s a good idea,” he said. “When you get there, go west. The banks of the creek deepen and start to wind in that direction. It will be harder to see you. I’m about ten miles from home, hang on and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “Jake, no. Call the cops. Jake, they … they shot Barney.” My voice hitched a little bit when I said that. He was such a sweet dog. I wanted to cry, but focused. “Jake, they didn’t see me. They can’t know for sure that I’m here. Be careful. Wait for the cops. If anything happened to you, I’d die. Please, oh please don’t do anything stupid.”

  “Okay,” he said, “I’ll call the police, then I’ll call you back. How many of them are there?”

  “Jake, no. I’ll leave my phone on and lock it. That way you can hear me. Call the police on your other line. I can’t talk and run at the same time, but you’ll be able to hear me. I’ll tell you what’s happening. Okay?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Hide, Cecily. Hide and I’ll come for you. How many men are there?”

  “I saw three, but I think there are four. I love you, Jake,” I said. Muting the speaker but leaving the call open, I locked my phone and slipped it back in the pocket of my shift.

  Looking behind me, I didn’t see anything. I slowed to a walk while talking to Jake, but now I started jogging again. It didn’t seem as though the trees were getting any closer. How far away did I need to be from the house before I was out of range? I had read somewhere that a person never heard the gunshot that killed them. Bullets travel faster than the speed of sound. I wondered if I would know if I was killed, or if it would be like turning off a light switch.

  ~~~

  Chapter 29

  Jake

  Cecily’s call put me into a panic. I was driving toward the house already, and I pushed the gas pedal to the floor. I called 911, but I had no plans to wait for the sheriff’s department to catch up to me. There might not be a deputy within twenty miles. Weld County is huge, almost four thousand square miles, and Ted Yost’s force wasn’t large enough to cover it all.

  The 911 dispatcher took the information I gave her, but then Ted came on the line before I could hang up.

  “Jake, don’t do anything stupid,” he said.

  “Ted, I’m not going to rush in there, but I’m not waiting for your deputies before I scope things out. That’s my girl, and if there’s a way to get her out of there, I’m going to take it.”

  “Dammit, Jake. This isn’t Iraq. Wait for backup.”

  “Ted, thanks for admitting I have a right to be there,” I said and hung up.

  I switched back to the other line, the one Cecily said she would leave open. All I heard was static and swishing noises. I listened for a while, and finally heard what sounded like a soft curse. It was Cecily’s voice. Then more swishy noises.

  From what she told me, all of the thugs were at the ranch house. I should be able to drive most of the way to the house without being seen. Most of the area was flat, but the area to the north of the house had a couple of low hills. Not really even hills. They were so low even my grandmother could climb them when she was eighty. But Granddad built the house where he did to take advantage of those pimples on the plain to block the north wind.

  I pulled the truck off the road at a windmill about three hundred yards from the house. Reaching in the glove box, I pulled out my Glock, checked it, and jacked a shell into the chamber. There were three long guns locked into the rack behind my head. A shotgun and two rifles. I used the .308 to hunt deer and elk, and the .244 for coyotes and antelope. The advantage of the lighter rifle was that it was very flat shooting, good for long distances. I took it and the shotgun and relocked the .308 in the rack.

  Circling around the hills, I came on the ranch from the north. It seemed as though the hike took me forever, but when I checked my watch, it had only been five minutes since I left the truck.

  Carefully peering over the top of the rise, I looked down on the house and outbuildings. I was about a hundred yards away, and I could see the car Cecily described. The front door of the house stood open, and Barney lay in the driveway. Bright red blood covered his side, and a dark spot surrounded him.

  Three men wandered around
, one on the front porch, another near the car, and the third stood next to the open stable. I pulled the rifle to me, cautiously putting it to my shoulder, and looking through the telescopic sight. Everything I had seen before leaped closer, but I didn’t see anything new or different. As much as I itched to do something quickly, I took a full minute to listen. Nothing. I wasn’t sure if I was too far away, or there wasn’t anything to hear.

  I used the scope to look beyond the ranch buildings in the direction of the creek. The first thing I saw was a man dressed in dark clothing walking in that direction. He had covered about half the distance. Farther on, I saw something yellow moving away from me. Cecily had a good lead on him, but obviously he had spotted her and was following.

  At that distance—over a mile—I had absolutely no shot. I would need to take care of the men at the house before I could pursue Cecily and the man hunting her.

  It had been three years since I last lined up a man in the crosshairs, but six years as a sniper in Iraq and Afghanistan isn’t something you quickly forget. No matter how much you might want to. I calmed myself, trying to push the fear and rage aside. I wouldn’t do Cecily any good if I couldn’t control myself enough to function.

  Briefly, I considered the issue of shooting a man who wasn’t directly threatening me. I might put Ted Yost and the district attorney in a tough spot. But Barney’s body was enough to show the thugs’ intent, and protecting a man’s property and his woman would be enough that no jury in this county would convict me.

  I set the crosshairs on the chest of the man next to the car. Taking a deep breath, I let half of it out and then held my breath. No matter how much urgency I felt, I squeezed the trigger slowly.

  He spun away from me to his left and fell face down next to Barney. That motion told me that either I jerked a little when I fired, or that the slight breeze had affected the bullet.

  Jacking another cartridge into the chamber, I sighted on the man next to the stable. Both of the remaining men were looking around, trying to figure out where the shot came from. I was far enough away that they couldn’t really tell the direction of the sound of the gun. I placed the crosshairs on the middle of his chest and squeezed off another round.

  He flew backward into the stable. Looking at his body through the scope, I could see a small splash of red in the middle of his chest.

  I scanned for the third man, but he had disappeared. It took all of my will power to sit where I was. My instinct was to rush down there, hunt him out, and then go looking for Cecily. But my training told me to sit tight and wait him out. The chances were that he would crack before too much longer. He didn’t know where I was, and the pistol he had wasn’t made for long distances.

  The time stretched, and I could still hear the swishing sounds coming from my phone. A glance at my watch told me that it had been almost thirty minutes since Cecily called me. If she was all right, she should be getting near the creek. The rifle’s scope was useless at that distance, so I couldn’t see her any more.

  Eventually, the waiting got to be too much for my target. He poked his head out of the house, cautiously looking around. I took my time, and then took my shot. I thought of how upset Cecily would be at the mess in the foyer. I wondered if I could clean it up before she saw it. Probably not. The cops would want to do their thing first.

  Leaving the rifle, I grabbed the shotgun and took off running down the hill. Where Cecily was headed, there wouldn’t be any long-distance shots. The Glock and the shotgun were better for close quarters.

  I checked the men I had shot. All three were dead. A quick look about in the house showed nothing disturbed, other than the broken front door and an open, half-empty beer bottle sitting on the kitchen counter.

  As I entered the stable, I heard Cecily’s voice on my phone. She knew she was being followed. It took me a few minutes to saddle Lightning, but he could run a lot faster than I could. Spurring him out of the stable, I prayed I wouldn’t be too late.

  ~~~

  Chapter 30

  Cecily

  Looking back, I thought I saw someone in the distance. Because we rode the horses out to the creek so often, the trail I was following was well marked. Maybe I should have gone in a different direction, but I would have taken the chance of being seen. At least I had a good head start on my pursuer.

  I wasn’t sure why I only saw one man. Stopping for a moment, trying to catch my breath, I scanned the distance in all directions but didn’t see anyone else. I prayed that Jake and the sheriff weren’t heading into an ambush.

  “Jake,” I said, hoping he could hear me, “there’s one man following me. That means the others are still at the ranch. Be careful, honey.”

  Then I took off jogging again.

  I looked back as I got to the creek. The man was still following me. It was hard to tell if he was running or walking, but it didn’t look as though he was any closer than before. Of course, my jogging probably wasn’t any faster than Jake’s walking with his long strides.

  Scrambling down into the small depression to the swimming hole, I looked around and saw why Jake told me to go west. To my left, the creek meandered out into the open plains, leaving little in the way of concealment. On my right, the creek tumbled down a small hill toward me. The ground rose away from me, leading eventually to the mountains thirty miles away. I stopped for a moment to catch my breath.

  “Jake, I made it to the swimming hole,” I said. “I’m going to follow the stream to the west, the way you told me. As far as I can tell, there’s still only one man following me. I don’t know if he’s getting any closer. I love you, Jake.”

  I started to walk around the pool and caught my knee in the shift. Looking at the short but rocky climb directly ahead of me, I realized that even with the way I tied it up, the dress would be a constant problem. I took the knife and started to cut it shorter, but nicked my leg. That wouldn’t work, so I pulled it over my head and held it in front of me so I could look at it. The pockets were fairly large, and my phone bumped against my thigh as I ran.

  Standing there in only my panties and shoes made me feel extremely vulnerable, and I shivered in spite of the hot day. Taking my knife, I slashed at the fabric about two inches below the pocket. Once I had a cut, ripping the thin cotton was easy. I shrugged the much shorter dress back over my head and smoothed it into place. It wouldn’t encumber my legs any more.

  Looking around for a place to hide the remains of the skirt, I didn’t see any hiding place that wouldn’t be obvious. The pool emptied via a short waterfall into the creek and continued to the east. I wadded the fabric into a ball and tossed it over the fall, watching it float away on the current.

  Between novels and TV, I knew that people always walked in the water to hide their tracks when someone was following them. That was fine in theory, but even in the tail-end of summer the creek was too deep for me to walk in it. I was leaving tracks in the sand around it, and there wasn’t any way to hide them. I turned and started climbing out of the depression that held the pool.

  It didn’t take long for me to figure out that the cottonwood and willow trees lining the banks of the stream were going to be a problem. The willows in particular were so thick in places that my only choice was to go around them. That meant either going into the water, which was knee to hip deep, or fighting my way through to the edge of the vegetation where I was visible on the flat plain.

  I chose to skirt along the outside of the trees, occasionally finding trails that animals used to access the stream. Stumbling along a meandering route, I kept heading west, sometimes along the water, at other times walking along the boundary where the trees met the grassland. With no idea if I was still being followed, or how closely, any sound I heard set my heart to pounding and my panic soaring. I constantly expected to feel the club of a bullet entering my body.

  I crossed the stream at a place where it was wide and shallow, and considered whether I should just find a thicket of willows and hide. But I never found a place wh
ere I felt secure enough to stop and wait. A while later, I ran into a rock bluff and had to cross back to the north side of the stream.

  I was following a game trail away from the stream, having encountered a stand of willows clogging my path, when I heard a voice that froze me, sending my heart leaping into my throat.

  “Cecily. How nice to see you again,” Alejandro said.

  I spun around and found him leaning against a cottonwood tree. He was only about ten feet away, pointing a gun at me.

  “My, my,” he said, a mocking grin on his face. “If I didn’t know better, I would think you’re avoiding me. And after I’ve come all this way just to see you. Is that any way to treat an old friend?”

  He motioned with his other hand, crooking a finger in a ‘come here’ gesture. I walked toward him. As I did, I slipped the knife, hidden behind my leg in a fold of my dress, into my pocket. He moved away from the tree, and when I reached him, he grabbed me by the hair and slammed me into the trunk.

  “You little bitch. Don’t you know better than to run from me?” he hissed. “I should blow your fucking head off for the trouble you’ve caused me.”

  His face was only a few inches from mine. Although I was terrified, a rational sliver of my mind perked up at his threat. A wild improbable hope bloomed that perhaps there was still a chance that he wouldn’t kill me.

  “I was scared, Alejandro,” I whispered.

  “What the hell were you afraid of? That I might kill you for being a rat? You damned well better be scared.”

  “I’m not a rat,” I said.

  He slammed my head back against the tree trunk, and I saw black and then stars.

  “Bullshit. I’ve got cops and feds all over me in Baltimore. Eddie dies and the next thing I know I have problems. Who else would cause that?”

  “I don’t know. It wasn’t me.”

  “Then why did you run?”

  “Because when you killed Eddie, I figured I’d be next. But I wasn’t in his business. You know that. I was never in his business.”