by E A Lake
He turned his horse and motioned for his men to follow. "You got six days, Quinn. And four of those are a gift. A gift from me to you. Because I know how pathetic you are. I'll give you more time, that way a little bit of your soul dies each passing day. And in the end, you're gonna do exactly as I've asked."
"Ain't happening," I shouted as he rode away.
He waved without looking back. I could have killed him right then and there, yet I never once thought of drawing my pistol. All that would have done was put a larger target on my back. And I already had enough problems.
"We're kinda in a tough spot here, son," Ed said quietly. "We may need a miracle to get out of this mess unscathed."
I didn't need a miracle; all I needed was an army. And they were on their way.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED EIGHTY-SEVEN
When we arrived back in Pimento, I peeked up at the sun and figured it was mid-afternoon. My mood darkened when I noticed how sleepy the town still appeared. I had expected to be greeted by hordes of people when we got back. Instead, all I got was a stupid wave from a smiling idiot – Art.
"How'd it go, Sheriff?" he called out as we dismounted. "Any luck with Shaklin?"
"Absolutely none," I replied bitterly. "Anyone show up yet? Any help? Any anything?"
Art shook his head and smiled at my father. "No one that I seen. And if there's thousands coming, I would have noticed that."
Ed seemed awfully quiet at that moment. I suppose he was worried about his daughter, my sister. Shaklin hadn't made it sound like she was going to be treated all that well.
But still, he seemed different. As in shoulders slumped, head down, walking towards my office.
"Something wrong, Ed?" I asked. "Aside being worried about Belinda that is?"
He walked – more like crawled – inside and plopped into the first chair available. I knew Ed was an old man, surviving the best he could in a terrible time, but he seemed older, almost fragile at that moment.
"It's about the number, Quinn," he said just above a whisper, bowing his head.
"What number?" I asked, placing my gun on the desk.
He sighed and shook his head. "I may have over-estimated just how many people would be willing to join the fight. It might be a little less than promised."
I shook it off and sat down. I knew he'd never amass 2,000 people. Hell, I didn't need that many. Even an even thousand was overkill. I figured as long as we had just north of 500 people show up, Tony Shaklin would see that we meant business.
"I'm sure it'll be fine, Ed," I replied, hoping it cheered the old man up. "We're gonna know fairly soon, right?"
He nodded without so much as peeking my direction. I wondered what else was bothering him.
"I never imagined my own daughter would be in harm's way," he admitted quietly. "To know that your own flesh and blood could be hurt..." He finally shot me a glance. "...Well, it strikes a man in his heart."
I rose and went over to pat his shoulder. "I get it, Dad. I feel the same way."
"Just not right," he continued, close to tears. "She's never hurt a flea. The only time she's ever lied, that I know about, was to help you. Otherwise, she's as perfect as a person can be."
I recalled a couple of times Belinda had lied. Like the time she was at the sleepover where all the girls got drunk. Everyone except her...according to her. Somehow my gullible parents believed her.
"Yeah, she's special to everyone," I replied, deciding to keep my confidential intel to myself.
"Makes me feel bad for her," Dad continued, blowing his nose into a faded blue checkered handkerchief. "Things would have been okay if you hadn't gotten her involved down there."
I stood straight. Wait, what?
"I mean, I'm not fond of her being married to a man like him," Ed rambled. "But at least she was safe and well taken care of. That was until you cocked things up and she had to come to the rescue."
He had to be talking about someone else. Perhaps he had another son and daughter, trapped in an eerily similar situation, because he didn't seem to have all the facts straight on the one involving my sister and me.
"Dad," I said quietly, rubbing my chin. "Belinda helped smuggle out the note for me to come down there in the first place. She had already decided to help them escape no matter what."
He looked up at me and seemed confused. "And?"
"She knew what she was getting into," I ranted. "She knew the consequences and she participated willingly. We're all kind of getting what we deserve here, Dad."
He popped out of his chair with renewed vigor, poking me in the chest. "This is all your doing, boy. None of this would be happening to Belinda if you hadn't messed things up. If you weren't so clumsy and gotten yourself into trouble, everything would be just fine."
I wanted to strangle my old man. Fighting back the urge to wrap my fingers around his skinny throat, I counted to five in my mind. The only reason I decided to back down was because I needed Ed's help. It was the last card I'd have a chance to play in a situation that otherwise seemed hopeless.
"Tell me, Dad," I bitterly replied. "Have you ever worried about me in this mad world, as you call it? When you say your prayers at night, do you ever include your son, your other flesh and blood, in them?"
He patted my chest and headed for the doorway. No doubt he was hungry and wanted to run home to eat some of my food.
"I pray for the souls of the people who've had their life extinguished by you, Quinn," he replied as he paused in the doorway. "You're a killer, son. People don't pray for killers. Not even their parents."
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED EIGHTY-EIGHT
Morgan and I laid in bed that night, arguing quietly in the soft, flickering candlelight.
"Don't be unreasonable, Quinn," she said. "He means well, I know he does. It's just that I don't think he knows how to tell you he loves you...is proud of you."
"Poppycock," I shot back, laying on my side. I stared into Morgan's eyes, knowing she knew I was right. "He's gone once we settle this. My mom can stay for a while, but he and Audra have worn out their welcome."
"Quinn, listen to me. Your mother and father and even your aunt for that–"
"Are useless once we get Chloe, Avellyn and Belinda back," I interrupted. "Hell, Ed's almost useless now. His army hasn't shown up yet, have they? Before you reply, the answer's no. Word is a portion of them will be here tomorrow. The others? Who the hell knows."
"Your mom says they'd like to live here in Pimento with us," Morgan replied, either trying to change the subject or just get me riled up even more. "She thinks it would be nice if they were around you more. And maybe Belinda will decide to stay as well. Wouldn't that be nice, having your family all in one place?"
My God, my wife had been brainwashed by the biggest bunch of bullshit artists known to mankind. I needed to set her straight.
"I've already told your aunt that she can stay with us as long as she likes," Morgan continued before I had a chance to get a word out. My jaw dropped at that news. "She's not that bad, Quinn. She's actually very sweet once you have the chance to get to know her."
"Unbelievable," I whisper-shouted, rolling over to face away from my wife. "This whole thing is so messed up that it makes our escape from Shaklin's look easy."
Morgan's hand stroked my shoulder. "Just sleep on it, honey. Maybe in the morning everything will look different. You know a good night's sleep can change things."
Fat chance that would be happening. If Ed's people weren't in town sometime before noon the next day, I may walk my family back to Terre Haute on my own...at gun point.
I awoke the next morning before Morgan. Watching her sleep was one of my favorite things to do. And while I was still a little upset with her from our talk the previous night, I had to admit I had a pretty darn good wife. She was everything I'd ever dreamt her to be, plus she had a compassionate side I never knew existed.
My problem for that day lay sleeping elsewhere in my house. I wasn't thinking of my dad, or my mom or even
my crazy pot-smoking aunt. No, I was thinking about what I needed to say to Charolette before much more time passed.
She was going to have to go with us when we had our final meeting with Shaklin. Without her there, he might be able to see through our ruse. That was a chance I didn't want to take.
Taking Charolette with us presented a problem of its own. If we lost, she was lost. She'd be right there for the taking and I knew my old business partner would grab her...after he took care of any resistance.
I'd wondered a number of times if Charolette was aware that we'd need to use her as bait. She wasn't dimwitted in the least, so she had to have a clue in my mind. Her current problem was the fact she was so stupid in love, I wasn't sure if she saw anything else that went on around her.
And now that the love of her life had been wounded – non-life threatening – her love was renewed a thousand times over, or so she'd told Morgan and anyone else who came within earshot. While Robert insisted he was fine, his injury worried me. Could he ride a horse some 20 miles down to Shaklin Road with us?
Of course, then there was Cooley. His injury wasn't all that bad either, not even life-altering from what I could tell. But would he be ready to ride with us in less than a week’s time?
That brought me back to Ed. With two men on the injured reserved list, we needed all the bodies we could muster. There were maybe a dozen more townspeople who'd volunteered, as reported by Art. But we needed hundreds, not dozens.
I made up my mind. I'd talk to Charolette first, with Morgan's guidance, then Ed. With any luck, Charolette would readily agree knowing the team needed her and Ed's people would be here by noon. Only then might I actually be able to take a deep breath.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED EIGHTY-NINE
The young waif stared at me with doe eyes before turning to face Morgan. She nodded in small bobs and I watched as a smile rose on her face. This was going even better than I’d planned. She'd listened, not saying a word, and wasn't shaking in the least. Score one for me.
"Do you understand what Quinn has said?" Morgan asked, running her fingers through a wad of Charolette's hair. "I know it sounds like a lot, but everything will be okay."
Charolette nodded more vigorously and my mind drifted to a later conversation I was going to be having with my dad. Maybe a good night's sleep had done the trick.
"Can I ask you a question?" Charolette requested softly. Morgan smiled and I nodded, giving her my full attention again.
"Are you two crazy?" she said, her smile finally becoming scowl. "Because what you're asking me to do sounds crazy to me. And only a crazy person would think this is okay."
My head dropped forward. So much for going well.
"Honey," Morgan said sweetly. "If you're not there, Shaklin will know something isn't right. You're kind of like the star of this show."
"Find a different star then. I ain't going."
"Why not?" I asked as she rose and tried to make her escape. "What don't you like?"
She thrust one finger at my face. "Robert won't be there."
"Maybe," I inserted quickly.
A second finger joined the first. "But Shaklin will. So I ain't going."
"Charolette," I begged. "If you're not there, this could all end badly. If he wipes us out, he'll ride up here and take you all back. You'll lose if you don't come with."
A madwoman turned and faced me. "I have nightmares that aren't this bad. Seeing him again face to face will put me over the edge." Her hysterical words cut through the formerly quiet house.
"Tony Shaklin is a monster!" she shouted. "He's my monster," she said, poking herself in the chest several times to make her point come across loud and clear. "I'll kill myself before I ever go back there. You saw what he did to me, Quinn. He broke my foot and it'll never be the same. Compared to that, going to Winston Cutler's is 10 times worse. And you know it."
"You're not going back to Shaklin's, much less being given away to Cutler," I managed calmly, attempting to sound sincere instead of pissed. "I won't let that happen. We're going to have an army with us. There's no way he wins this time."
"An army of unarmed people," she countered with a certain amount of satisfaction. Dang, that part wasn't supposed to be common knowledge. Yet somehow Charolette knew.
"You’re gonna be slaughtered either way," she continued. "You just haven't faced up to that yet. The way I see it, you make your stand here in Pimento, you'll have a better chance."
"What about Chloe and Avellyn?" Morgan asked, attempting to be the voice of reason.
"And what about Belinda?" I piped. "She's your friend, Charolette. If we don't face Shaklin head on, she'll end up where you were supposed to be."
She let out a long sigh and shook her head. "Don't you see? This is a no-win situation. If we go there and lose, we all go back. He'll keep Chloe and Avellyn and probably hang Belinda. If we make our stand here, at least we stand a chance for the five of us. One way we lose all, the other we keep five...maybe."
"What if we win?" I asked somberly. "Have you considered that at all?"
Her shoulders slumped slightly as she approached. She hugged me tightly, shaking her head against my chest. "There's no way we truly win here, Quinn. You just haven't come to that realization yet. I'm sorry, but my answer is no. And you don't need to ask again."
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED NINETY
I sat at the table a little while later sipping coffee with my dad and aunt. Both had little to say; I was sure they'd heard the earlier exchange with Charolette and knew we were in trouble.
"Give the girl a little more time, Son," Ed said after setting down his thick, white ceramic mug. "She'll see the light and do what's right. I'm sure of it."
"She's the only sensible one of the whole lot of you," Audra squawked. "If you were smart, which none of you are, you'd be fortifying your town for the war that's coming. But morons will be morons, I suppose."
As usual, she was a great help. So inspirational, so positive.
"We need people, Ed," I moaned, taking another sip of the tepid black liquid. "We need people bad, and we need them now."
I felt his cold, frail hand on my forearm. "Have faith, boy. Help is on the way."
I would have had a little faith, but he'd already warned me that the numbers might be lighter than he’d originally promised. Two thousand angry, unarmed people were a mob to be reckoned with. Less than a couple hundred would just be target practice for Shaklin's people.
"We need at least a thousand people, the way I see it," I stated. "I want a real large group that reaches out and gets his attention right away."
"And if there's 500 or so?" Ed countered.
Damnit! He'd padded his numbers so badly at first. Backtracking on me now was just adding salt to my wounds.
I turned to face him straight on. "You promised more, Ed. I need a thousand."
He nodded like everything was okay. "Faith, son. We all need faith at times like these."
"And a whole lotta luck," Audra crowed. "I'd count on luck over faith, at least in this situation."
My day had turned to shit. My mood was worse, far worse. And soon, I'd discover just how bad it could get.
Just after lunch time, I made my way to the office with Ed in tow. To be honest, I was getting nervous. People from Terre Haute were already supposed to be showing up in Pimento. As of the time I plopped in my chair, not a single soul had arrived.
"They'll be here soon, son," Ed said, as if reading my mind. "Anytime now."
I glanced his way, shot him a frown and looked back at my desk. I needed help and unfortunately, the day hadn't brought any.
"What's Cooley's status?" I asked Art, trying to keep my mind on other things.
Art's lips twisted before he answered. "He says he's doing okay. Might heal faster if he had some company and someone to care for him other than his ma. She's nice enough, you know, but kinda rough when it comes to people being laid up. She don't like the boy hanging around the house all day. Now, if maybe–"
"With?" Art asked with a puzzled expression.
"Oh, let's see. Her sister is gonna chew a finger off or develop a nasty ulcer if she doesn't quit staring out the window all day looking for Shaklin. Charolette's bouncing off the walls, all worried that Robert's going to die from his wound, which he isn't. Morgan's going to kill Charolette if she gives one more piece of medical advice to her. So, Sara's running interference with that." I glanced at Art with raised eyebrows. "Shall I continue?"
"I'd rather you not, if it's all the same," he replied, sounding like he'd had enough.
"My crazy aunt thinks Sasha and Charolette just need a little time with the weed," I continued, mostly for my own amusement. "Morgan's running after her, making sure that wish doesn't come true. Something about making them more paranoid I believe my wife said. My mother isn't feeling well, so Sara is helping out with her. As Ed can attest to, my mother is a pathetic sick person and a real pill to deal with when she's under the weather."
Art rose and waved his hands at me. "I get it, I get it. Can we talk about something else, please!"
"Livy's been moping around for about a week now," I went on, placing my feet on my desk. "Seeing Charolette in love has given her the bug it seems. Claims she's never gonna find a man and she's gonna die an old maid. Now Audra told her that wasn't all that bad, given what a pain in the ass men can be. Now I think–"
"Riders coming from the north," Petri announced, running into the office.
Ed leapt from his chair. "That'll be my advance team. That means the rest won't be far behind."
"How many riders, Petri?" I asked. If the advance team was two people, I was going to be pissed.