Bus Stop at the Last Chance (Loni Wagner Western Mystery Book 2)

by Sue Hardesty

  Loni whistled. “Wow! That's more than two year's profit if you're lucky.”

  Carl grinned at Loni. “Tell me about it. I thought I'd won the lottery.”

  “But you never suspected them of drug deals?”

  “No. I researched the company they represented, and it was legit. They did sell exotic plants and castor bean seedlings. It just wasn't all they sold.” Carl shook his head in embarrassment. “I also had no idea they were going to brutally murder my boss. I admit Chief was pretty worthless, but nobody deserved what he got.”

  “I'm not so sure.” Loni argued. “He was one sick pedophile son-of-a-bitch.”

  Carl nodded in agreement. “That he was.”

  “You know, Carl, I really liked Jenny. She seemed to care about her students.”

  “Yeah. The kids said she was a great art teacher, I'll give her that. But to kill Chief the way she did?” Carl shook his head in disbelief.

  “I don't know, Carl. If somebody had raped me continually for years, blamed my father for the deed and put him in prison, cause my mother's suicide because she believed her husband raped me, and turned my brother into a crack head, I'd have killed him too.”

  “I don't care what her reason was. Murder is murder.”

  Loni didn't answer. She concentrated on maneuvering the trailer around the water tank. Still silent, they unloaded the horses, and Loni trotted off north. Nearly a half-hour later she found Buck's track and fired one shot. Turning around, she headed back south as she followed three hoof prints. Evidently he couldn't put any weight on his bad leg. After another hour, the trail led her on down into a deep wash where she found him shaking under a tree. Firing her gun twice, she slowly led him back to the road. It didn't take long before Carl and Willie showed up with the pickup and horse trailer. “I heard your first shot. I knew you'd find him so I rode on back to get the trailer.”

  “Smart. Thank you.”

  It was dark before they got to the ranch where Tori Watts, the veterinarian, was waiting for them.

  * * *

  Home at last, Loni parked inside the hangar, turned off the motor, and climbed down with Coco behind her who quickly ran out into the pitch black night. Loni waited for Coco in the settling dark. The silence was ominous. There was no banging, no yelling for something, no laughter anywhere. The moon was still chasing the sun early in the morning eastern sky, and she missed its soothing night glow. A coyote yipping in the distance shooed Coco back to her safety, and they climbed the stairs with Coco's huffs as she shot up the stairs in front of her.

  Loni settled in for supper, heating up a bowl of Shiichoo's menudo. With a full stomach, she settled on the bed with Coco and opened to her grandmother Wagner's stories. She needed to disappear into another world for awhile, and reading to Coco helped her do that, especially her grandmother's words.

  “You ready, Coco?”

  “We lost my brothers in the war. Papa followed in 1930. A molting sidewinder struck Chips high up his hind leg and he went crazy, falling backwards onto papa. We think he died instantly.”

  Loni stopped reading a few seconds and stared at the page. “Wow. I’m really glad that Bahb’s accident wasn't worse.”

  “I think papa was still grieving and got careless. Chips made it home but we were never able to work him again because the muscles in his leg rotted and left him limping badly. Mama followed papa in 1935 from pneumonia but I think it was from a broken heart. She missed papa so.

  “I remember Papa telling me about the first automobile he ever saw, how his older brother Axal grabbed his sister and ran into the house pulling her under the bed with him and later his dad said how he wished Axal had stayed afraid. But Papa said he stood his ground. Told me how he thought it was a marvel but it'd never replace the horse. O'course it did. Still, I will never forget the wonderful horses we had over the years such as Blind Babe, my mother's favorite horse.

  “I was always in Papa's shadow. Wherever he was I was mighty close at hand. One moonlight night we were sitting beneath the arbor. I didn’t hear one sound and out of the shadows came a tall man, his curly hair in disarray and eyes big and frightened. He said, ‘Vic, I need a horse real bad. I will turn it loose when I get to the hills.’ They were life-long friends. My dad never asked one question. Just said, ‘You’d better take Babe. She’s fast and will come back.’ They forgot about me, but I tagged along and watched him leave. Papa said, ‘Mary. This is something we don’t talk about to anyone.’ I didn’t though I was about to burst when mama missed her mare.

  “In about a week Babe came back. She was gaunt and thinner. She must have gotten to cold water after the hard ride because her eyes filmed and she was blind. We kept her for years and mama drove her in a cart. She drove by reverse signals. To go was to pick up the reins; to stop was when you threw them down. Nothing frightened her.

  “Several years after that incident we had a visitor. It was the same friend who rode Babe that night. Papa and he talked of many things, of cattle and horses, local gossip.

  “Vic said, ‘I guess I better tell you. I haven’t got the trouble now. I was cleared as it was self-defense. I gave myself up. Better let a man kill you than kill him, you never forget that last look in his eyes as he is dying.’ He had gotten to San Diego and came back. It was a knife fight over his wife. I hung on the back of my dad’s chair and cried I was so sorry for him. Papa noticed I was there and sent me to bed.

  “I was such a spoiled brat but I am proud I never told about Babe, even to my brother and he was my pal. I made up my mind I’d never kill anyone. So far I haven’t though there have been occasions that seemed suitable. Why do big brown eyes leave such lasting impressions? And pale, certain shade of blue killer eyes send chills down my back.”

  Dropping the notebook back into the box beside the bed, Loni snuggled next to Coco, grateful for the warmth, and fell into a deep sleep. Coco’s low growl startled her when the phone rang. “What?” she snarled into it.

  “Hey Loni, you there?”

  “We've got to quit meeting like this, Bobby.”

  He tittered a few seconds before he got serious. “Domestic at Hamilton Ranch. Three miles up Highway 88. You can —”

  “I know where it is, Bobby. How come you didn't call James? Isn't he on duty tonight?”

  “James had to go to Phoenix a few days. Anyway, some woman's holding a gun on her husband. You're the only one trained around here with hostage cases.”

  “Have I ever told you how much I hate domestics?”

  “I think I heard you say it a time or two.”

  "Who's the woman?"

  "Caller didn't say."

  “Who called it in?”

  “Wouldn't say. Man's voice, though. Sounded really scared.”

  Loni spun away from the hangar and turned north as fast as her truck could go as she hung onto Coco, upset that her truck was too dangerous over 65 mph. With no sirens, she pulled into a circular driveway, stopping behind a dark green pickup. An empty gun rack hung in the back window. She silently stepped out of her SUV, leaving the door open. Signaling Coco into attack readiness, she started toward the old farmhouse. So far everything was quiet, not even a barking dog. What farm doesn't have a dog?

  She had slipped into the shadows along the house when a gunshot suddenly rang out, immediately followed by the sound of breaking glass. Ducking, she signaled Coco to stay behind her. She pulled her gun and ran to the window. Inside she saw Chelsa Taylor waving a .44 magnum toward a man rolled into a ball on the floor. As he tried to squeeze behind a beige recliner, her angry voice repeated over and over, “Are you happy now? Are you happy now?”

  Loni could hear the man muttering, but he was so doubled up on the floor that she couldn't tell what he was saying.

  “You took everything!” she screamed at him. “Are you happy now?”

  Loni stared through a small yellow triangle in the stained-glass door and gave a hard knock, hoping to refocus Chelsa. “Police! Put the gun down!”

&nbs
p; Still waving the gun, Chelsea gave the man a kick. “Cops are here! Are you happy now?”

  More muttering from the floor.

  “You called.” Chelsa kicked him again. “You answer the goddamned door and explain to James what a bastard you really are.” She waved the revolver at the door, pointing it straight at Loni.

  “Shit!” Loni stepped sideways and ducked, waiting for another gunshot. She reached back to the door and knocked again. “Hello, the house,” she shouted. “Can I come in?”

  “Oh hell, why not?” Chelsa sputtered and jerked the door wide open, slamming it against the wall so hard that the doorknob broke through the sheetrock. “Welcome to hell,” she greeted Loni as she lowered the gun. “It's where all the losers live.” She followed this with a strange keening sound. Turning her back, she walked to the dining room table, lay the gun down, and slumped in a chair. Barefoot, she wore faded baby-doll pajamas with frayed lace around the neck and short sleeves. “He took my children,” she hiccupped before a sob. “Took them to my miserable bitch of a mother-in-law.”

  Recognizing Brad Taylor, Loni leaned over him and pulled an arm back to see if he was shot. “Are you hurt?”

  He shook his head. Loni helped him to his feet and looked around for blood, but didn't find any. She walked to Chelsa's side, picked up the gun and unloaded it, holding the bullets in her hand as she waited for the heartbreaking sobs to slow. “Hey,” Loni asked Brad. “Does she have anyone she can stay with?”

  “I'm not going anywhere! This is my home,” Chelsa injected.

  “Why don't you call your bitch girlfriend,” Brad sneered, sketching angry quotes in the air around the word girlfriend. “She's welcome to you.”

  Oh shit, Loni thought as she turned to Brad. “Where do you live?”

  “Over Sunnyslope way. I came as soon as I heard about her girlfriend.”

  Chelsa sobbed as she repeated, "Are you happy now?”

  “Listen, slut.” Brad started toward her.

  Loni stepped in front of him. She'd forgotten how thick he was. Not tall, but bulky. A dark, two-day beard covered his angry face. She could smell the fear sweat coating him. “You better go on home now. It's late, and you got a ways to go.” Loni laid a hand on his chest, holding him back.

  “No, by god.” He knocked her arm away. “I came after their things, and I'm not leaving without them.”

  Suddenly Coco was between them, snarling.

  “Yes, you are.” Loni settled her hand on the butt of her gun.

  His eyes jerked back and forth between the gun and the dog as he backed through the door with Coco closely following. “Wait just a damn minute,” Brad complained. “Where's James?” He stumbled off the stoop and caught the handrail to stop his fall. When he straightened back up, his face was dark with fury. “Who the hell are you?” he spat. “I didn't ask for you!”

  Good, Loni thought, signaling Coco to back off as she moved into his space and eased him toward his pickup. Too dark now to read her name tag. If he didn't see her dimples... Don't smile. “How did you manage to call the police?”

  “She dialed nine-one-one, tossed her cell at me, and said, ‘Why don't you get James here. Maybe he'll just shoot me for you.’ So I did.” He held up the cell phone in his hand.

  Loni reached out. “I'll return that for you.” Brad reluctantly handed the phone to her, and she pocketed it. “Do you have any weapons with you?” She opened his pickup door for him.

  “No,” he said. “What the hell is that?” He nodded at Coco.

  “Your worst nightmare,” she said, “if you threaten me again.” Coco stood like a statue, her golden wolf-like eyes following his every move. Loni flashed the light beam under and behind the seat and in the cubbyhole. “Don't come back here tonight,” she warned.

  She watched the pickup pull out into the road and head north before she returned inside the house.

  The Early American furnishings weren't to her taste, but the earth tones reflected comfort. Chelsa sat at the table, her head still buried in her arms.

  Loni sat down beside her. “Chelsa, what's going on?”

  Chelsa wiped away the tears. “He said his lawyer told him he had a legal right to the kids because of my immoral behavior.” Her voice was hoarse from crying.

  “Who's got custody?”

  “I do. He's an abusive sonofabitch.” She lowered her head again, wiping more tears on the hem of the red checkered table cloth, leaving dark splotches. “I took it until he hit the kids. We're divorced over a year now.” She swallowed a sob. “How can he do that? Just walk in and take them?”

  “He can't. Same-sex relationships are legal. His lawyer is either totally ignorant, or your ex bamboozled you.”

  She scrutinized Loni with faint hope in her eyes. “What does that mean?”

  “It means you can live with your girlfriend and your kids in the same house, and there's nothing anyone can do about it.”

  “Then my restraining order is still good?”

  “You have a restraining order on him?”

  “He keeps threatening us. Shooting guns over the house. Swearing at me on the street. Following the kids, telling them I'm a dyke. I had to protect them.”

  “You're sure they're at his mother's?”

  Chelsa snorted. “He doesn't want to care for them. Too cheap to pay.”

  “Who's your girlfriend?”

  “Lu Staford. She's a paramedic.”

  “Sure. I know her. How long have you been with Lu?”

  “Eight weeks yesterday.”

  “Your first girlfriend?”

  Chelsa lifted her chin. “Is that a problem?”

  “Is it serious?

  “It is with me.”

  “Can Lu come over tonight?” Loni said softly.

  “No. She's on call the next three nights.”

  “Have you talked to her about this?

  “No. I was afraid she'd go after my ex. Then she'd get in trouble.”

  “Yeah, I know Lu. You just might be right.”

  “Can I call her?”

  “Sure.” Loni placed a hand on her arm to get her attention. “But right now you need to listen to me. First thing in the morning, this is what you're going to do. You hear me?”

  Loni watched Chelsa nod through another bout of tears before she continued. “At eight o'clock, I want you to take your custody papers and restraining order and go to the station and find Lola. Nobody else, do you understand?” Loni got another nod.

  “Tell her to help you fill out a warrant. Tell her your ex-husband violated his restraining order and kidnapped your children, and you want them back. Are you with me?” Another nod. “Tell Lola to call me as soon as she gets the judge to sign, and I'll pick up the warrant and serve it. If all goes well, your kids will be home before noon.”

  “Are you shitting me?”

  “No. Cross my heart.”

  Chelsa threw her arms around Loni, leaving tears on her collar. It took a few minutes to untangle from her. “Last thing,” Loni said as she walked out the door. “Tell Lu to bring a U-haul.” At the woman's quizzical expression, Loni said, “She'll know what I mean.”

  * * *

  Bobby's voice interrupted Loni's musings on Chelsa's joy. “It's done, Bobby. I sent the stupid ex-husband on his way. I'm on my way back home.”

  “Whoa there, you're not done yet.”

  “What?” she snapped at Bobby. She just wanted to get home to bed.

  “I got a domestic at the Carter ranch. Off Wilson Road.”

  “Jeez. Two domestics in one night.”

  “Yeah,” Bobby giggled. “How lucky is that?” He signed off still giggling.

  Loni didn't even bother with a retort. She was too used up from her adrenaline high.

  Turning around, she headed back up Harquah Hills Road toward a clump of buildings in the distance where a windmill slowly turned. The ranch sat on the north side up against a black hill to take advantage of the shade. The large main house was surrounded
by three smaller ones where the hired help lived. Her favorite barn was behind the house. Its weathered red was almost rust-colored from years of heat and dust storm sand blasting. Standing majestic high, its twelve-to-one peaked roof had a pointed overhang with a pulley and ropes hanging into the large hay door. Below the hay door were the huge double sliding doors. One stood open, and a small backhoe sat in the opening. Loni wasn't sure if it was coming or going. Limbs from mesquite trees formed a large corral on the back of the barn.

  The main house was a fifties single-story ranch in a U shape. A few tired pomegranate bushes lined the rock walkway into the house. Surrounding the buildings were dusty, dry salt cedars.

  She knew the people who lived there. Danny Carter was an energetic, hardworking man with a funny, highly volatile wife. She had been a year ahead of Loni in school. Not exactly friends, they still hung out together in study hall and the gym, sometimes catching each other's back against the rule-makers. They shared books, dirty jokes, and test answers. Hoping the call wasn’t anything serious, Loni looked forward to seeing her again. When she knocked on the door of the main house, Danny opened the door and reached out, dragging Loni inside. “Look at that. I want you to arrest the bitch.”

  “Hello to you too, Danny. How the hell are you?” She stared around at the dirty clothes scattered all over the floor. “Where is Juanita?” Nothing else seemed to be out of order. Nothing on the tops of furniture but the usual lamps and clean ashtrays. Loni studied Danny. “What I see is dirty clothes all over the floor. Anything I'm missing besides Juanita?”

  “Look!” Danny sputtered, pointing at the clothes. “She did this.”

  “Why don't you just pick them up? They're yours, aren't they?”