by R. C. Ryan
Noah had long ago left the highway and was now following a dirt track, sending up a plume of dust. They followed the trail for what seemed miles until they came up over a rise and spotted, in the distance, a decaying shack.
“Very soon now you’ll get to join your daddy,” Noah announced with a laugh. “The old bag of bones was obsessed with asking your forgiveness, but he was too ashamed to do it.”
Brenna blinked back tears. “That’s what he told me in his letter.”
Noah threw back his head and laughed.
Brenna looked over. “Why do you find that funny?”
Instead of answering her, he began in a whiny voice, “‘Dear Brenna. My dear, sweet darling child. I’m so sorry it’s taken me all these years to contact you. But even though you never heard from me, you were always on my mind…’”
Brenna’s smile turned to a look of stunned horror as the truth dawned. “That letter wasn’t from my father. You wrote it.”
“Pretty good, wasn’t it? All gooey and heartbreaking. I actually stole some lines from a Willie Nelson song.”
“But why?” Brenna could feel tears welling up in her eyes and hated the fact that she was allowing him to see how deeply he’d hurt her.
“Why? That’s easy. I needed some traveling money to get here.”
“You cashed the check I wrote to my father?”
“He’ll never miss it.” He paused a beat before adding, “See. The joke’s on you. You financed my trip here so I could steal from you.”
“Steal what? What did you take out of my ceiling?”
“Nothing you need to worry your head about. Once we get where we’re going, you’ll know everything you need to. And then you can join crazy old Raleigh Crane.”
“Why would my father choose such a dismal place as this to meet?”
“One place is as good as another. Especially when you’re…”
She turned to him, tense, expectant. “When you’re what?”
“When you’re full of religion. Yeah. That’s it. When you’re full of sobriety and religion.” His laughter grew, high and shrill, reminding her of nails on a blackboard.
There was, she knew, a madness to his laughter. And madmen were too dangerous to trust.
She quickly dismissed that thought and concentrated instead on the fact that she was joining her father. Whatever pain he’d inflicted in the past, he was now remorseful and eager to see her. She would be able to tell him in person that her heart was filled with only love and forgiveness. And Raleigh Crane, in turn, would deliver her from this crazed drifter.
“I hope there’s someone tending my dad. I can’t imagine how he left a nursing home for this.”
Noah’s laughter stopped abruptly. His eyes narrowed on her. “You don’t think this is good enough for him? Or are you worried that it isn’t good enough for you? There was a time when folks thought it was the only thing good enough for me.”
Hearing the simmering fury in his tone, she was quick to placate him. His moods changed so abruptly, she needed to keep things as calm as possible. “I wasn’t implying anything. I’m just worried about my father’s health.”
“Don’t you worry about that.” He smiled, showing yellowed teeth. “You’re like him, you know. Always asking questions. Talking. All he wanted to talk about was you. How brave you were. How good. How perfect.” He made a gagging sound and swore again. “After awhile I just wanted to stuff a rag in his mouth, or better, slit his throat and shut him up permanently.”
He turned off the ignition and opened the door, circling around to yank the passenger’s-side door open. In his hand was something dull, until he touched a button releasing a long, sharp blade that glinted in the sunlight.
Even as Brenna was recoiling, he grabbed her feet and the blade sliced through the rope binding her ankles as neatly as though it were butter.
His eyes gleamed. Cold. Feral. “Thought I was going to stick you, didn’t you?”
When she said nothing he smiled. “You see how sharp this is? I could cut out your heart before you had time to blink. And don’t you forget it.”
He pulled her by the arm, knocking her off balance. She fell to her knees in the dirt, and he hauled her roughly to her feet. “Must have hit you harder than I thought. Or else you’re just a prissy lightweight.”
Though her limbs were numb from having been bound so tightly for so long, she staggered forward and stepped into the shack. In the gloom she stared around hopefully.
“Where is he? Noah, where’s my father?”
His smile was wide. It was plain that he was enjoying his little joke.
“Oh. Did I forget to tell you?” He waited a beat, drawing out the moment, clearly savoring his private little joke. “Your daddy’s out back. Six feet under.”
Ash studied the land below. “I grew up here in Montana, and I don’t recognize any of this. All rocks and sand and not a single sign of civilization. It looks like some kind of moonscape.”
Brady nodded. His eyes were hidden behind the mirrored sunglasses, but his tone revealed his somber mood. “I know a little about this part of Montana.”
Ash glanced at him.
“I grew up not far from here.”
“I don’t think you ever mentioned that before.”
Brady shrugged. “Not something I like to talk about.”
Ash waited, but when the foreman offered nothing more, he didn’t press.
From the rear seat Mad’s voice was triumphant. “See that dust cloud?”
They turned to study the dust billowing upward from a vehicle moving along a rise. It was impossible to see the vehicle through the dust, but, since it was the only sign of life they’d detected, Brady kept the plane on course, while slowing their speed.
Ash pointed to a shack that was little more than a dark spot in the distance. “That could be where they’re headed.”
Brady nodded and slowed the plane even more so that it didn’t get ahead of the vehicle on the ground.
When at last the movement came to a halt outside the shack, the dust began to settle, and they could clearly see the tan truck.
“It’s Brenna’s.” Ash’s voice trembled with feeling.
With binoculars trained on it, he watched as Noah circled the truck and hauled Brenna from the passenger’s side.
“She’s alive,” he whispered.
Those two words had all three men breathing again.
Ash continued watching through the binoculars, hungry to store up every image of Brenna that he could.
What he saw had his eyes narrowing in anger, as she was dragged from the truck so hard she dropped to her knees before being yanked to her feet and shoved roughly inside the shack. Noah followed her inside.
Ash dialed his cell phone to alert his family members at the same time that Brady spoke into the plane’s headset, to give the information to Ira and the state police.
After feeding all the information they had, Ash added, “We’ve found her. She’s alive. We’re going down.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
Brenna looked around as if in a daze. She’d come here expecting to be reunited with her father. And now Noah was telling her he was dead? How could this be? It was simply too much to take in. And yet hadn’t she known that something was very wrong? All those hateful words he’d hurled. He’d been telling her, over and over, how he’d hated her father. Hated her.
Her legs wobbled, and though she knew she shouldn’t let this evil man see any weakness in her, it couldn’t be helped. She dropped to her knees on the dirt floor of the crumbling shack and felt tears sting her eyes.
He stood over her, his tone pure sarcasm. “Oh. Poor baby. You crying?”
The sound of that nasal whine had her head coming up sharply. Though her wrists were still bound, she lifted them to wipe her eyes with the backs of her hands. There would be no tears. She would not meet the same fate as her father without a fight.
“When did you kill my father?”
�
�A couple of weeks ago.”
Weeks. Her heart plummeted. “Why? You said he was in a nursing home. He was old and sick. Why did you have to kill him?”
“Because he was a necessary part of my plan.”
“Your plan for what?” She stared at the switchblade in his hand, her rifle in the other, and knew what her fate would be. The finality of it made her more determined than ever to let him see no weakness.
“For having my own place. While your dear old daddy was yakking on endlessly about the family ranch he’d left all those years ago, I realized that he was offering me a chance to have what I’ve always wanted without having to work for it.”
“I don’t understan—”
He lifted a hand. “See this dump? This place that you consider unfit for your father? This was home when I was a kid. If that isn’t dismal enough, consider this. Like your old man, mine was a drunk. A mean, let’s-slap-Junior-around-until-I-break-some-bones drunk. And when he was through having fun with me, he’d turn all that charm on my mother. Only she was big enough to get out, leaving me alone to face my own private hell. I didn’t get out until I was twelve, and big enough and smart enough to stash a knife under my pillow.” He caressed the blade of the knife as though it were a lover, sending chills along Brenna’s spine. “The next time my old man attacked me, I fought back. And won. I buried him out behind the barn, packed up as much as I could tie behind my saddle, and left. Nobody even knew he was missing. Nobody cared. And that meant I was free.” He gave a chilling laugh. “I’ve bounced around the country, getting by. And then this old drunk tells me how he wants to make it up to his little girl. How he’s got a deed hidden up in the ceiling of his ranch house that dates back to the eighteen hundreds. His family ranch is some kind of historical treasure. He wants the deed framed, so his little girl will have something of his that can make her proud. Once I heard that, I figured if I hold that deed, and I’m the last living heir, it can all be mine, and I’ll be more than proud. I’ll be a respected land owner.”
“The last living heir?”
He laughed again. “It has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? But if you and your old man are dead, who’s to deny my claim?”
“Everyone who knows me in Copper Creek. And there’s Vern. He’s been with me for years. He’ll never believe you’re an heir to my family’s ranch.”
“They will if you and the old guy go missing. Out here, the only ones who’ll ever uncover your grave are the wild things. Meanwhile, back in Copper Creek, I’ll see that old Vern gets what he should’ve got when I drove through that barn door.”
“It was you.”
He frowned. “You and that old geezer have more lives than a cat. I got sick and tired of stealing rancher’s trucks trying to run you down. But I knew sooner or later I’d win. I always do. And once the two of you are out of the picture, I’ll get all cleaned up and show up at the county with proof of my claim.” He opened his shirt and removed the yellowed document. “This is the deed to your land. All nice and tidy and legal. And it says that all that land belongs to the one who holds it. Did you hear me? It belongs to the one who holds it. And then there’s this.” He held up a letter. “This is signed by Raleigh Crane, naming me beneficiary of his estate. Estate.” He cackled. “Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”
“My father would never sign such a thing.”
“Oh he would if there was a knife to his throat.” He gave her a long, icy look. “Sorry, girly. But if it’s any comfort, your old man thought he was arranging your future when he told me about this historic deed. He may have been sober, but by telling me all his secrets, he was nothing but a sober fool. And now he’s a dead one.”
He set aside the rifle and advanced toward her with the switchblade glinting in his hand. “A bullet’s cleaner. But I’ve come to enjoy the feel of my knife cutting deep into flesh. And your pretty flesh ought to be as soft as butter.”
His voice was drowned out by the roar of a plane’s engines, so loud they sounded near enough to tear off the roof of the shack.
Startled, he raced to the doorway to peer skyward.
The Cessna skimmed low over the ground before touching down a hundred yards distant.
“I can land right there.” Brady pointed to a flat stretch of dry creek bed. “But there’s no way to pull a surprise when you’re landing a plane practically in his shack.” He turned to Ash. “Got a plan?”
“No time for one. Just land.”
As the plane bumped along the rocky stretch of soil, Ash checked his rifle.
When they came to a halting stop he turned to Mad. “You’ll have to stay here.”
The old man snatched up his rifle. “Like hell I will.”
“Listen, Mad.” Ash’s eyes blazed. “I don’t have time for anything right now except Brenna.”
“You said this nutcase has her rifle. What makes you think he’s going to let you get within a foot of her?”
“I don’t know.” Ash pulled open the plane’s door and stepped down. “But he’ll have to kill me to stop me.”
Brady stepped down from the other side of the plane. “I’m going with you.”
“You’re staying here. Somebody has to be able to fly our bodies out of this godforsaken wilderness.” Ash didn’t give him time to argue. Without a backward glance, he circled the plane and started toward the shack.
Behind him, Mad growled, “Brady, get over here and help me get this damnable wheelchair out of this heap of metal.”
Brady lifted out the chair, and then the old man, who was cradling his rifle to his chest. “What about Ash’s orders?”
Mad shot him a sly grin and cupped a hand to his ear. “Huh? Sorry, I’m too old to hear you.”
“I’m going with you,” Brady shouted.
As he lay the rifle across his lap and hit the wheels, propelling himself forward, Mad called, “You heard Ash. Stay here and tend the plane. Somebody has to be sensible.”
As he rolled away Brady muttered under his breath, “Yeah. That’s what I’m going to be. Sensible.”
He rummaged around the plane for a weapon and located a flare gun. He figured it was better than nothing as he raced to catch up with crazy old Mad MacKenzie.
When the door to the plane opened, Noah stared openmouthed at the sight of Ash MacKenzie coming boldly toward him with a rifle in his hands.
“Oh, this should be fun.” Noah yanked Brenna to her feet and dragged her outside before wrapping an arm around her neck.
Pressing the switchblade against the tender flesh of her throat, he called out, “Toss aside that rifle, hero, or I slit this pretty little thing from ear to ear.”
Before Ash could comply, Mad rolled into view. “What’re you going to do after you kill her?” he shouted. “Think that knife will go up against two guns?”
“Big talk, old man. You can shoot me, but the woman will still be dead.” To prove a point Noah pressed the blade firmly enough against Brenna’s throat to draw blood.
Hearing her cry out, and seeing the blood spilling down the front of her shirt, Ash let out a roar before tossing his rifle aside. “Let her go. We’ll do what you want.” He turned to his grandfather. “Drop your weapon, Mad.”
The old man swore as he released his hold on his rifle.
”That’s more like it.” Throwing Brenna to the ground, Noah shoved the switchblade into his back pocket and took aim with the rifle. “Looks like I’m going to be real busy digging graves.”
He took his first shot, and as the bullet ripped into Ash’s shoulder, he had the satisfaction of watching the fountain of blood spurt from the wound before Ash dropped to his knees in the dirt.
Noah swore. “My second shot won’t miss your heart, hero.”
“Hold it right there.” Brady stepped out from behind the plane and aimed his weapon at Noah.
The drifter’s eyes narrowed on him. “You think I’m stupid enough to believe that useless flare gun can kill me? Drop it.”
When Brady hesitated, N
oah took aim. “Another hero.”
Just as his finger touched the trigger, he caught the slight movement behind him and turned. Despite her bound wrists, Brenna managed to ram her body against his, sending him stumbling forward. His rifle shot went wild, the bullet flying harmlessly into the dirt.
Noah regained his footing and spun around, hitting her on the side of her head with the rifle. With a cry she fell to the ground.
By the time he’d turned back, Ash was advancing on him with a snarl of rage.
With no time to aim, Noah fired, and had the satisfaction of watching Ash take a second bullet to the arm.
Instead of falling, or even slowing down, Ash kept coming.
Mad tugged on the wheels of his chair, propelling himself forward.
From behind him, Brady started running toward them.
“You’re all fools,” Noah shouted. “Dead fools.”
This time he took careful aim, but before he could fire again, Ash dropped down and the bullet rang over his head. That was all the time Ash needed to reach out and wrench the rifle from Noah’s hand.
It fell to the ground between them as Ash’s fist met Noah’s face, sending blood cascading down his chin and staining his already filthy shirt.
“Now you’ll have to fight me like a man, you coward.”
The words were no sooner out of Ash’s mouth than Noah reached into his pocket and withdrew the switchblade. With the touch of a button the deadly blade was exposed, and aimed directly at Ash’s heart.
“I’d rather fight you the way I fought my miserable excuse of a father,” Noah said with a chilling laugh. “And your pretty girlfriend can tell you how that ended.”
Before he could take a step forward, he was stunned by something hitting the side of his head. Brady’s flare gun left a bruise on his temple as it fell to the ground.