Luke

by R. C. Ryan

  Yancy was having a fine day. Earlier he’d picked fresh strawberries from his garden beside the house, and now he was baking Miss Grace a glorious torte, which he intended to layer with mounds of whipped cream and sweet strawberries. In his mind he could already see her smile blooming when she took her first bite.

  “If you could spare a few of those berries, Yancy, my boy, I’d be grateful.”

  At Nelson’s words, the cook looked over with a quick grin. “Says the man with the famous appetite. When’s the last time you ate only a few of anything, Great One?”

  “You’ve got me there, Yancy.” The old man patted his stomach. “But I’ve discovered a yearning for fresh strawberries ever since I saw you washing them earlier.”

  “I figured as much.” Yancy gave a warm laugh. “That’s why I set aside a bowl just for—”

  The ringing of his phone had him glancing toward the kitchen counter, where he’d set it earlier. “I’ll just get this and then I’ll fetch those strawberries.”

  “Or you could let it ring and get the strawberries first.”

  Yancy was still chuckling when he picked up the phone and glanced at the caller ID. “Hey. Hello, stranger.” To Nelson he mouthed the word Luke.

  Walking toward the refrigerator, he opened the door while asking, “When are you bringing those pretty little Larsen sisters back for another visit?”

  He took out the covered bowl of berries he’d set aside for Nelson. When he straightened, he looked at the phone. “That’s odd. No one’s there…” And just as he was about to disconnect the call, thinking the wires were crossed, he heard a strange, muted sound coming from the phone. It sounded like a man’s voice, distant, raspy. He couldn’t place the voice, but it sounded angry. And then he heard a sound that had him going rigid with shock.

  It was, without a doubt, a gunshot—followed by a woman’s scream.

  Sheriff Eugene Graystoke’s day had gone from bad to worse. After that scene with Luke and Ingrid Larsen, he’d hoped for some good news. But now, as he did a follow-up on Lon Wardell, his mood darkened.

  According to the bartender at Barney’s in Wayside, Wardell had been on a weeklong bender, after his usual drinking companion, Nadine Larsen, had walked out on him following a bitter argument. By the time Lon left, after running out of money to pay his enormous bar tab, there was murder in his eyes. Even the toughest cowboys who frequented Barney’s had backed off, knowing he was running on a very short fuse.

  Eugene figured he’d warn Ingrid and then start looking for Nadine, just in case Wardell tried to hit her up for money. Though Ingrid had defended her mother, the sheriff had his doubts. In his years on the job, Nadine’s name had appeared on too many drunk-and-disorderly complaints to count. But even a tough woman like Nadine, who could hold her own against most cowboys, deserved protection from a mean drunk like Wardell. There was no telling what he’d do when liquored up.

  When his phone rang, Eugene pressed the speaker button on his dashboard. “Sheriff Graystoke here.”

  “Sheriff.” Yancy’s voice sounded breathless. “I got a call from Luke’s phone, but he never said anything.”

  “Butt dialing.” Eugene managed a quick laugh. “Happens all the time. My wife hates it when I do that.”

  “No. Listen. This was different. I heard a voice I didn’t recognize. And then a really loud report like a gunshot and a woman screaming.”

  “You sure about that?” Eugene hit the brakes. “I know you and Nelson have a fondness for Hollywood drama, Yancy.”

  “That we do. I can’t deny it. But I’m so convinced of what I heard, I’m calling the family as soon as I hang up with you.”

  “Now, Yancy—”

  “There’s trouble at the Larsen place, Sheriff. I feel it in my gut. Just as surely as I feel Luke was trying to get a message out. Okay. I’ve warned you. I’m hanging up now.”

  Eugene heard the click and then sudden silence.

  He dialed the state police headquarters to report the gunshot and to request backup. Though he hesitated to call out the troops on what might be a false alarm, Yancy Martin wasn’t the only one to trust his gut feeling. Eugene’s told him this could be really serious.

  As he turned his vehicle in the direction of the Larsen ranch and floored the accelerator, he punched the number for his deputy.

  When he heard Archer’s voice, he said, “Get hold of Nadine Larsen. Tell her to steer clear of Lon Wardell until he sobers up. Then get on out to the Larsen ranch. It may be nothing, but I’ve got a report of a suspected gunshot.”

  Lon walked around the cavernous interior of the barn, obviously searching for something. While he walked, the others watched him with looks that ranged from terrified to thoughtful.

  Poor Lily was trembling, probably as much from shock as fear. She’d been forced to witness Mick’s assault, and then the attack on both her sister and Luke. The gunshots, the blood, the pain glazing Luke’s eyes, had her traumatized.

  Next to her, Ingrid leaned over to press a trembling kiss to her cheek, as if to offer a measure of comfort, but the painful bonds restricted movement.

  Luke kept his gaze fixed on Wardell, watching for any opportunity to take him down. Though he knew the chances were slim, since he would no doubt fall on his face the moment he tried to stand on his badly injured leg, he was determined to try. He was troubled by the amount of blood he’d lost. If he didn’t act soon, he could lose consciousness. But he was even more troubled by the fact that Mick seemed to slip in and out of consciousness. The old man had taken a powerful blow to the head. A blow that could cost him his life if he didn’t get medical help soon.

  Wardell picked up a flat piece of wood from the splintered stall and dropped it next to Ingrid. “Here’s your desk, girlie.”

  At her blank look he snarled, “You’re going to sign over your rights to your cattle. I call this my declaration of independence.”

  He withdrew a wrinkled paper from his pocket, along with a pen. He dropped it on the wood and gave an imitation of a smile. “But you can think of it as your last will and testament.”

  Sheriff Graystoke’s vehicle pulled up in Ingrid’s driveway and parked behind her battered truck. Minutes later Archer Stone’s truck arrived. By the time he stepped down, Eugene was beside him.

  “You get hold of Nadine Larsen?”

  Archer nodded.

  “Where’d you find her?”

  “She didn’t say. But from the static, I’m thinking she was driving. Maybe she’s on her way here.” Archer looked around. “Awfully quiet to be a crime scene.”

  “Yeah.” Eugene looked up in annoyance at the sound of a plane’s engine. While he and his deputy watched, the Malloy plane circled the area and came in for a quick landing behind the barn. Minutes later Frank, Grace, Yancy, and Nelson made their way toward the house.

  “You didn’t waste any time.” Eugene’s voice was accusing.

  “Neither did you, Sheriff.” Frank nodded toward the back door. “Anybody home?”

  “I haven’t checked. We just got here.” Eugene waved a hand to his deputy. “Go ahead and knock.”

  While they stood watching, a parade of Malloy Ranch trucks pulled up. One after the other, the doors opened, revealing Matt and Nessa, Colin, Burke, and Reed. All of the men were armed.

  Archer returned to the others. “No answer.”

  “I guess we’ll start checking the buildings one by one.” Eugene pointed to the house. “A couple of you go inside. I want every room inspected. Archer and I will start on the barn…”

  The sheriff’s words died in his throat at the sight that snagged his attention.

  Lon Wardell was framed in the barn doorway, his muscled arm wrapped around Lily’s neck. In his hand was a pistol pressed to her temple.

  Tears were streaming down her cheeks, mingling with the blood to form a river of red staining the pretty denim shirt Grace had bought her in town. She was so small and vulnerable, so completely at the mercy of this madman, the sigh
t of her tore at all their hearts. Nessa clutched her husband’s arm and stifled the cry that lodged in her throat.

  Lon’s voice broke the stunned silence. “One by one, you’ll walk over here and drop your weapons before stepping into my office.” He smiled at his little joke. “If anybody tries anything stupid, I’ll blow the kid’s head off. And you can all watch, knowing you were the reason for her death.”

  He dragged Lily backward, causing her to gag, and waved his pistol drunkenly. “Move it. Or the kid pays.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Hearing Grace’s sob, Frank Malloy put an arm around his wife’s shoulders as he dropped his rifle and walked with her into the barn.

  “Sit against the wall.” Lon waved his pistol, and the two slumped down.

  Lon turned to Nelson, being assisted by Yancy. “Move it, old man. First, your weapons.”

  “We are unarmed.” Nelson’s imperious tones were an odd contrast to Lon’s slurred words.

  “If you’re lying, I’ll blow the brat’s head off.” To prove his point, he jammed the pistol against her temple.

  Matt, his eyes as hard as flint, held Nessa’s hand as he tossed his rifle to the ground and joined his grandparents along the wall.

  Next came Colin, Reed, and Burke, all silent and scowling as they deposited their weapons before joining the others.

  The sheriff and his deputy walked in last, their grim faces betraying their outrage at being ordered about by this drunken cowboy.

  Lon studied the pile of weapons before breaking into a smirk. “Well, now. Looks like I could hold off an army with all this firepower. I thank you all kindly for adding to my arsenal.”

  He gave Lily a shove, sending her sprawling headfirst into the straw beside her sister.

  “Oh, Frank.” Grace squeezed her husband’s hand as she took in the horrifying scene. Mick barely conscious. Luke bloody and glazed with pain. Ingrid and Lily bound hand and foot, their pretty young faces smeared with their own blood. “This is like some terrible nightmare.”

  “Hold on, Gracie Girl.” Frank drew her close. “Where there’s life, there’s hope.”

  She closed her eyes, and her family knew she was silently praying.

  “Why are we here, Wardell?” In an effort to keep this man talking as long as possible, Eugene Graystoke’s voice bounced off the walls and ceiling of the barn.

  “We’re here to celebrate my inheritance.” Lon lifted his whiskey bottle in a salute before taking a long pull.

  “What is it you inherited?” Eugene glanced at the others, then at the pile of weapons, and they nodded their understanding of his unspoken signal to watch for any opportunity to retrieve their guns and stop this before it turned into a slaughter.

  “Didn’t you hear?” Lon chuckled to himself. “Old Lars Larsen loved me so much, he considered me like the son he always wanted. And since all he had were a couple of worthless daughters and a drunken whore for a wife, he wanted to make sure I was put in charge of his ranch.”

  At his harsh words, Lily started crying again, and because of her bonds, all Ingrid could do was lean close to whisper words meant to soothe.

  Luke felt a wild rage burning inside at the pain. Not his own pain, but the pain this drunk was inflicting on all the people he loved.

  The people he loved.

  He stared around, filling himself with the images of his grandparents, his great-grandfather, his brothers and sister-in-law, his uncle Colin, the ranch foreman Burke, who was as much family as the others, and Yancy, a sweet man who had been reborn because of them. He studied old Mick, so still and lifeless. And finally a tearful Lily and Ingrid, stoic even in the face of such violence.

  He knew, without a doubt, that he was about to risk his own life for theirs. But his life no longer mattered. What mattered was that he could create enough distraction to give the others a chance to act. And if he died, at least his death wouldn’t be in vain.

  He gathered himself, forcing aside the pain radiating from his arm and leg all the way to his head and throbbing with an almost unbearable ache that nearly blinded his vision.

  He didn’t need to stand for any length of time, he told himself. He just needed to summon enough strength to make a mad dash to that bale of hay and force Lon Wardell to shift his focus for an instant. It could create enough of a distraction to help the others retrieve their weapons and take down this monster.

  He moved his body, testing his strength. Closing his fingers around the rail of the stall, he pulled himself to a kneeling position and then made a valiant effort to stand.

  Outside the barn, a car’s brakes screeched, sending gravel spitting.

  All heads turned to the doorway as Nadine raced inside, screaming and swearing at the top of her lungs.

  Seeing her, Wardell made a grab for Lily, holding her in front of him like a shield.

  “You liar! You no-good, cheating, scumbag liar!”

  She flew at Lon like some kind of whirling dervish, shoving Lily aside before pounding his chest with her fists, her long painted nails scratching at his eyes.

  “You promised me you’d never hurt my girls. And look at them.” She turned, tears in her eyes at the sight of Lily and Ingrid, bound and bloody. “Now you’ll have to answer to me, you filthy, lying piece of—”

  “Shut up, you slut. I’m doing this for you as much as for me.”

  “For me? You’d hurt my girls for me? You’ve always known they were off-limits. You knew that, and you came here anyway? You swore it wasn’t you who caused that wildfire. You said you’d swear on your mother’s grave that you didn’t poison old Tippy or fire that gunshot at the mustangs. You’re a liar. A cheat. But this is one thing you won’t get away with, you disgusting piece of—”

  A gunshot echoed and reechoed around the barn.

  Nadine’s body stiffened. The fist she’d been shaking in Lon’s face dropped to her side. Without a word she began to slide to the floor in slow motion.

  For a moment Lon seemed unable to process what he’d done. He simply stood there, gun in hand, watching in a drunken fog as she fell.

  It was all the distraction Luke needed. Though he wasn’t certain his wounded leg would support his weight, he made a flying leap across the distance separating him from Wardell.

  Seeing him, the others sprang into action, grabbing up weapons and circling Luke and Wardell.

  The sound of another gunshot had Ingrid screaming as Luke fell back, blood streaming like a river from his chest. For a moment Luke lay as still as death, and his entire family seemed suspended in time and space, unable to move.

  Then he got to his knees, shaking his head to clear it. Before Wardell could fire again, Luke was on him, trading punches, fighting desperately to take control of his pistol.

  The others circled around the two, preparing to shoot if they could get a clear shot at Wardell.

  Hearing the sound of helicopters landing, Eugene Graystoke turned to his deputy. “Let the state boys know where we are.”

  Archer Stone dashed out the door.

  As an army of sharpshooters raced inside, taking up positions, Luke gave a blow to Wardell’s jaw that had his head snapping back.

  Still holding his pistol, Wardell looked around at the assault rifles aimed at him. All the fight seemed to have left him. He grasped Luke’s shoulders. “I want to make a deal, Malloy.”

  “A deal?” Luke swore. “The only deal you’ll get is prison. I hope you die there.”

  “But I know something you’ll want to hear.”

  Luke shook his head. “There’s nothing you could say that would matter in the least.”

  “I know something you don’t. Something I was sworn to keep secret about the night your parents died.”

  At his words, Luke’s head came up sharply.

  Across the barn, his family members riveted all their attention on the man who had just offered them the most tantalizing words ever spoken.

  With a fierce oath, Luke grabbed Wardell by the front o
f his shirt and twisted. “Tell me what you know. Tell me now.”

  “Not without the promise of a deal.” Wardell lifted both hands and shoved him backward with all his strength.

  In that instant, seizing their only opportunity for a clear shot, a deafening volley of gunshots rang through the air.

  Wardell, pistol in hand, fell to the floor.

  Through a blinding mist of fury, Luke looked around at the line of sharpshooters, including the sheriff and his deputy. “Why the hell did you shoot? He wanted to tell me something. Something important.”

  “He was threatening you with a gun, Luke.” The sheriff holstered his weapon and started toward Luke.

  Luke’s arms shot out like a prizefighter, holding him at bay. “You heard him, Eugene. He said he knew something about the night my parents died.”

  “He was playing for time, Luke. That’s what men do when they run out of options.”

  Luke was shaking his head, unable to hear anything except the loud buzzing in his brain. He’d been so close. So close…

  He turned to his brothers. “You heard him. He knew something.”

  Matt and Reed caught him as he began to fall to the floor.

  He knew he was losing consciousness, but he managed to say, “Get help for Mick and Nadine. They’ve been hurt badly. And see if Wardell is alive. We need to know what secret he’s been keeping.”

  “We’ll see to it.” Colin directed a medic toward the old cowboy, who remained, silent and still, in a pool of blood in the hay.

  The sheriff turned to his deputy. “You’ve known Wardell since your teens. What do you make of this?”