She knelt in the dust beside the prone body of Shake, and placed his battered head in her lap. Through swelling eyes he gazed upon the face of an angel. He could have stayed in that position, with her ample breast softly touching his forehead, for all eternity. For this kind of treatment he would happily take a beating an hour. He would still be lying there to his dying day had it not been for her father driving up.
Ruby's father thought it was only right that the trick had been played on her. He sincerely believed that what went around came around. He was an ordinary man, despite his wealth, and his handling of the situation earned him even more of the trust and respect of the men. Not a single word was ever mentioned in anger, or otherwise, about what had happened to Ruby, or Shake. Her father drove Ruby and Shake to the house so that he could be cleaned up and bandaged, while Ruby's friend rode the horse home.
It was love at first sight for the two. There are those that insist opposites attract, but for Ruby and Shake nothing could have been farther from the truth. It was their similarities and ability to not take anything too seriously that brought, and then kept them together. They were all but impossible for anyone to be around. They would keep everyone on pins and needles with their combined antics and practical jokes. They would even resort to playing tricks on each other, should no other victim be available.
Ruby's father took to Shake like white to rice. He gave the two his heartfelt blessings and made Shake a full partner in everything he owned. The only condition being that Ruby have an operation insuring she would never become pregnant. Shake had heartily agreed upon learning the history of the Ranson women.
A surgeon in Dallas that was a pioneer in the field, for the time period, was contacted and arrangements made. He would perform the hysterectomy a month before the planned wedding date.
Ruby had her own agenda and insisted on driving herself to the hospital in Dallas when the time came, stating that she wanted to be alone. She had no intention of having the operation as she was already carrying Shake's baby. She, and she solely, knew this bit of news. She returned to the ranch two weeks later somewhat subdued, although she was her usual cheerful self by the day of the wedding.
And what a wedding it was! Folks from miles around came for the weeklong celebration. Beds were prepared in the brick mansion for the women, while the men slept wherever they fell. Cases of whiskey and watering troughs full of bottled beer made the men not mind where they bedded down.
Ruby was radiant in the white chiffon gown that had been her mother's wedding dress. It was the only time she had seen her father cry. He claimed that she looked just like her mother in the gown. He was reduced to a whimpering mess, tears streaming down his face. It was an extremely emotional event for the man, bringing back memories of a time long passed. (But of course, the raw onion she had rubbed into his shirt collar the night before hadn't helped him to hold his composure.)
Ruby and Shake were united in marriage on the fifteenth day of November 1963. Unbeknownst to Ruby, her father had been fighting cancer for some lengthy time. Just before he passed on he told Ruby that he could join her mother, with a clear conscience, now that he knew Shake would be there to protect and love her. She had never fully realized to what extent her father had missed his departed wife. Thinking back, she recalled that he had never even looked at another woman in all these years, so deep was his love.
She lost her father on the seventh day of December, 1963, and passed away herself giving birth to Sinda Rilla on the sixteenth of June, 1964. Shake had so loved Ruby that at first it was hard for him to accept the baby, but before she died, Ruby had exacted a promise from him to care for and love the baby with everything she knew was inside of him. With each passing day Sinda began to resemble and take on the characteristics of her mother, more and more. He hired a black woman in her mid-thirties that had recently lost her own newborn, to nurse and be a nanny to little Sinda.
The woman's name was Kimberly, and the affection she lavished on Sinda was genuine. It was at times almost enough to make up for the lack of fatherly love. Kim began to work with the young girl's love for music at the tender age of six. Sinda already had a voice years ahead of most girls her age. Kim nurtured and coaxed this unusual trait, and Sinda exceeded all her expectations. The old mansion would resound with the sound of Kim's piano playing, and Sinda's divine singing. Kim wished for Sinda to sing gospel songs as she had in her own youth, but Sinda had other notions. She could, and would, up to a point sing the songs Kim wanted, but her love for Rock and Roll would always somehow manifest itself. She was liable to jump from a haunting rendition of the “Old Rugged Cross", to Three Dog Night's, “Joy to the World", without so much as missing a beat.
The band, Bread, was her favorite group, and at any given time you were likely to hear her bust out with, “I Wanna Make It With You.” Sinda, Kim, and Shake lived in the gigantic house alone, until she turned eleven.
All the hands tried to idolize Sinda as they had Ruby. She had inherited all her mother's natural talent and beauty. She resembled Ruby so much at the same age that she could have passed for her twin, but that was where the similitude ended. Where her mother had been friendly, caring, and loving ... treating everyone as equals, Sinda was conceited and selfish. She looked down on anyone whom she considered below her station in life. Kimberly was the only non-wealthy person she would associate with. The hands gave up on Sinda after being scorned by her so many times. She was more or less left to make-do on her own, alone.
A record producer from Dallas that was also a cattle buyer had heard tales of the young phenomenon. While at the ranch conducting cattle business, he inadvertently heard the girl singing. He was so infatuated with Sinda that he signed her to a contract on the spot. Sinda and Kim hit the music road.
Sinda missed her father, but firmly believed it would be easier on him without her always being around to remind him of Ruby. He had never been able to show any true feelings for her, merely tolerance because of a promise he had made to a dying woman. He would buy her anything she desired, regardless of cost, to appease his conscience. Deep down inside where no one could see, he still subconsciously blamed Sinda for the death of his beloved wife.
Shake committed suicide on the day that would have been his and Ruby's thirteenth anniversary. He left everything to Sinda, appointing Kimberly legal guardian and executor until such time that Sinda reached the age of twenty-one.
Sinda had little use for the inheritance as she had one hit song after another. She and Kim would stay on the road until either one of them was exhausted, and then seek the seclusion of the ranch. Kim discovered, much to her amazement, that she had a natural talent for writing the kind of songs young people wanted to listen to. By combining parts from traditional Blues tunes she had grown up with, and giving them an upbeat tempo, she did quite well for Sinda and herself. Her songs were tailor made for Sinda to sing, and sing them she did. They were to find that anything with Sinda Rilla's name on it was to be a sure-fire hit.
Sinda grew to be not only extremely talented, but also even more beautiful each passing day. She had all her mother's good looks, plus the rare ability to tan, as her mother had not. Very few red-haired women attain the golden bronze that she possessed. Many of her male fans became obsessed with her. The husky, sexy voice, coupled with the body to die for, drove men crazy with lust. Against Kim's better wishes Sinda began to build on this lust, showing off more and more of her bodily features, as she grew older. A yellow halter-top along with a pair of the skimpiest possible white shorts, which stood out in sharp contrast against the tan of her skin, became her trademark. A brief glimpse of a nipple when she would bend over, or a chance glance at a few strands of red pubic hair below the frayed crotch of her shorts as she suggestively writhed about on the floor while performing her monster hit, “Come and Get It", was all it took to whip any crowd into a frenzy.
Her breast got larger, her waist thinner, and her legs longer and shapelier as time went by. If anything, she became more
desirable with each seceding year. At the ripe old age of sixteen she measured, 36-24-35. She was five-feet-four inches tall and weighed a whopping one hundred eighteen pounds. Her flaming locks touched the back of her knees, and her concerts were Standing-Room-Only, months before she was scheduled to perform.
She had everything money could buy, and anything she wanted, besides the one thing she desired most of all ... the love of a mother and father. She turned twenty-one in 1985, and was the most sought after entertainer in the world. Everyone loved her, but Sinda loved only three things ... Kimberly, Rock and Roll, and COCAINE.
CHAPTER IV
Faden watched Sinda Rilla's meteoric rise to stardom with a jaundiced eye. Her fame and fortune alarmed him. He had liked it much better when she had only been a local celebrity. She was now larger than life. He watched from the sidelines as fame took this obscure wildflower of Southern Oklahoma, and made her a prisoner of the adulation of the public. He watched as the monkey climbed on her back with the addiction to cocaine, as it had so many of his buddies in Vietnam.
He...
S creamed in horror as the once clear eyes of cobalt blue, took on the murkiness of a roiled stream.
I nwardly cringed as the bags formed beneath the eyes, giving her an ancient appearance far beyond her years.
N eeded to warn her, to help her.
D esired her as no other possibly could.
A nd cried as the drugs did their dirty work.
R eally wanted to hold her and tell her everything was going to be all right.
I nstead, had to watch from afar as her health went.
L oved her with all his heart and soul.
L ikened her unto an angel.
A nd vowed to help make her life drug free, whether she welcomed his aid, or not!
He was becoming totally FUBAR. His entire sense of well-being was falling apart. He had chosen this life of solitude, but now it would never do. He had to possess her, to have her love him in return. He had once accepted the fact that she would never be his; she was unattainable by a writ of God. She was destined to one day become an angel, had to. Regardless how much he desired her, he must never touch her, he was unworthy. She had for a time belonged to two others, but they had been fools and allowed her to escape. He worshipped the water she walked on and knew in his heart that should he ever reach for her he would drown in that holy water.
He was aware that he should be content to adore her from afar, fantasy being his only release. To gaze on such beauty from up close would surely cause blindness to the beholder. To actually hold her in one's arms ... would bring upon instant death, of this he was certain.
What he was going to do came to him before the night of her twenty-first birthday. Sinda was giving a concert on National television in honor of the event. It was to be a celebration like no other before.
Faden had always believed she had been born on the day of his mother's death for a reason. Perhaps God was making amends for allowing the tragedy to happen. The next day he started a special addition to his cabin. When he was finished he had a padded cell with roughly twenty by twenty feet of living space. The bars between the cell and the rest of the cabin were made out of one inch round stock. The three remaining walls were constructed of concrete blocks. The room was virtually escape proof for a novice to prison life. He stocked the bathroom with all the womanly stuff he could imagine, an electric razor among other items. The rest of the boudoir contained a bed, television set, stereo, recliner, and a vanity table. He used polished stainless steel above the sink in the bathroom, and the vanity table. As far as he could discern, the room was also suicide proof
He took a shovel from the utility shed, and walked about three miles down river from where he lived. He began to dig in the center of a copse of cottonwood trees. He dug a pit in the sand some ten by twenty feet, by eight feet deep. He returned the next day with some lumber that he rafted down the river. He boxed in the excavation, and built a wooden top, which he camouflaged with sand. The door leading down into the cellar was masked with a mortar made of sand and leaves. The location of the hidey-hole would be all but impossible to find unless someone knew exactly where to look. Each day he would return to the cellar with more supplies. He soon had it stocked with enough food and medicine to sustain a small army if he so desired. Drinking water, 12-gauge shotgun shells in a variety of shot sizes, case after case of .22 caliber ammunition, a 12-gauge pump shotgun, and a Winchester .22 caliber lever-action rifle were some of the last items to be brought in. He then undertook his most difficult task to date ... mastering his claustrophobia. Thoughts of Sinda Rilla, and how he was going to help her, aided him in this most trying of ordeals.
He cached bank hooks all up and down the river for catching fish. He purchased a sterno oven of the type that was supposed to be virtually smoke free. It was while he was making his purchases in town that he let on that he would soon be leaving for an extended hunting trip in Colorado. He pulled the ruse so that no one would come out to the cabin to visit. It was after he was satisfied everything was in order that he initiated the task of stalking Sinda Rilla.
It took a hefty chunk out of his savings to accomplish all of this, but he didn't care. His life was now for a single purpose, and that was to save Sinda from herself. By pretending to be someone he wasn't, he gained vital information about her from her second ex-husband (who just happened to be the executive producer of her recording studio and her own SIN record label) who also detested her, and was more than happy to divulge secrets about her nasty drug habit.
She procured her drugs from a character known as the Candyman. He supplied drugs to many of the entertainment people, but Sinda was by far his best customer. So good in fact that while she was on the road touring, he or one of his lackeys was always hanging around.
It was the last night of her 1985 tour, and the concert was billed as her “Homecoming". She was playing to a sold out audience at the Oklahoma City fairgrounds. A blow with a baseball bat to the forehead of the Candyman took him out of the action. Faden assumed the ridiculous costume of the street dealer, stole the Candyman's car, and set out for the hotel Sinda would be spending the night in before heading to the ranch the following morning.
She was a bit leery when she discovered Faden in the car instead of the Candyman, but her addiction to the drugs outweighed her caution. She drew lines on the mirror from the glove box, never doubting for a moment the contents of the packet he had given her. Instead of cocaine, she snorted a mild dose of horse tranquilizer. The results were better than Faden could have hoped for. She was in such a state of exhaustion from the concert that she fell asleep immediately.
He drove the Candyman's car to where he had left his ‘63 Chevy pick-up. He very carefully carried her to the vehicle, laying her head gently on the pillow against the locked door on the passenger side. Due to her weight, and having precisely measured the dosage, he figured her to be out for somewhere in the neighborhood of three hours. Barring any unforeseen incident it would be more than enough time to reach his destination.
He drove safely and arrived at his cabin, without mishap, two and one-half hours later. He carried her limp body into the cell he had built especially for her, and laid her on the bed.
Sinda slept peacefully through the remainder of the night. Faden even managed to catch a few winks himself, only to be awakened early the next morning by the awfullest caterwauling he had ever heard in his entire life. Sinda missed her morning snootful of cocaine, and the whole world was damn well going to know about it. She called him every name in the book when she realized she was being held captive. She couldn't recall any of the events that transpired following the concert, nor did she care to. She exhausted her extensive vocabulary of expletives, and ran for the bathroom. She caught a glimpse of herself in the stainless steel serving as a mirror above the sink, and believed she had never looked worse. The uncontrollable nosebleed certainly wasn't in her favor.
Faden thought otherwise. He believed her to be g
orgeous. She could root with the hogs and roll her hair in cow dung, and she would still be beautiful to him. He was saddened by her anger, but understood the emotion. He hoped and prayed that she would someday find it in her heart to forgive him.
He asked her if she would like something to eat when she returned to the living portion of her room, but after thirty minutes of shouting obscenities at him she had lain down on the bed, sobbing pathetically. He strolled outside because it tore the heart out of him to see her like this. An hour or so later he returned to find her sleeping once again. It wasn't the peaceful drug induced slumber of before, but was instead a tossing, turning affair. Sweat drenched her body, even though the room was relatively cool, and her hair was a tangled matted mess. She looked so pitiful that he had to leave the cabin again. It was six o'clock in the evening when he returned for the second time. She was in the bathroom throwing up. He felt so sorry for her, but knew there wasn't anything he could do. She had to do it cold turkey, or he feared it would all be for naught.
She refused to speak to him until 11:00 P.M., when she asked, “How much do you want?"
"This isn't about money,” he responded.
"Then, why am I being held against my will?” she inquired.
"You will just have to believe me when I tell you it is for your own good. Would you like something to eat now?” he asked, as he stood and stretched.
"For my own good, huh? I bet you're some kind of pervert that gets his kicks by being in control. Isn't that right, aren't you a control freak? If that's what it's all about, then why don't you come on over here and fuck me? Come on, let's get it done and over with so I can get out of this dump.” She remarked, as she began to remove the nightgown he had purchased for her.
Hurt and confused, he said, “You think every man in the world is after your body, don't you?"
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