Cowboy Christmas Guardian

by Dana Mentink

  “He’s going to hit us,” Shelby screamed.

  Uncle Ken jammed his foot to the gas pedal. “Hold on,” he shouted. Their truck was bigger, which made it more ungainly, so their pursuer had the advantage. At first it looked as though they would be able to outpace the smaller truck.

  “Look out,” Shelby cried. “Sharp turn.”

  Ken cranked the wheel hard and tried to slow enough to safely navigate the tight bend in the road.

  With a crash of metal, the truck behind them plowed into their fender.

  Shelby was jerked hard, hitting her shoulder on the door frame. Uncle Ken fought the wheel but the impact slammed their vehicle and it skidded sideways off the road.

  Time slowed as the truck began to tip over, twisting and turning as it plunged down the hillside. Dark tree trunks flickered in a dizzying parade by the windshield. There was a crack, and the windshield shattered. Bits of metal and glass flew around her face. Finally, with a massive bang, the truck crashed headfirst into the twisted trunk of an oak tree. The impact jarred them both violently.

  For several moments, Shelby was unable to do anything but breathe. The truck had righted itself, but the front end was mashed against the tree trunk. She forced herself to look sideways. Uncle Ken was slumped against the driver’s door, eyes closed.

  “Uncle Ken,” she said, trying to reach him, but her seat belt was jammed. She heard the distant sound of a car door slamming up on the road. Was it help? Or the person who had just tried to kill them? With frantic fingers, she yanked at the seat belt but it would not give.

  Phone.

  She wriggled and thrashed until she could free the pocket of her jacket from under the belt. She texted Barrett.

  Help. Accident.

  She added the last route marker they’d passed.

  Now there were footsteps approaching their truck, warily, stealthily. Not a passerby, come to rescue them. A killer, come to finish the job. Her skin crawled.

  She again pressed the seat belt button and this time it gave way. She grabbed her bag of samples. If someone was ready to kill for the rocks, they might be her only bargaining chip to keep her and her uncle alive.

  The door was stuck, so she kicked aside the broken glass and climbed out, fighting dizziness. Listening hard, she heard the footsteps off to her right, behind a screen of prickly shrubs. Head down, she raced over the grass, looping around to circle back to the road where she had a better hope of flagging down help.

  Fear for Uncle Ken made it hard to move. Was he dead? Bleeding out? Was she leaving him behind to die?

  Just run, get help. Fighting dizziness, she scurried behind a pile of rocks and stopped to get her bearings. Shadows loomed all around her but she poked her head above the rocks, identifying a relatively clear route leading up to the road. Unfortunately, it was exposed.

  Stay put and hide?

  Run for help?

  The agony of indecision nearly overcame her. One thought pounded repeatedly through her mind.

  Run.

  She counted to three, hugged her sample bag tight and sprinted.

  Adrenaline fired her muscles. She covered several yards before she heard the footsteps pursuing her. Stumbling over fallen branches, panting, she pushed on until a hand grabbed her hair, yanking her back and sending her sprawling. She tried to scramble away, but the arms that turned her over were strong, one forearm pressed hard on her throat.

  She looked up into the hard face of Joe Hatcher. He ripped the samples out of her grasp.

  “Listen,” he said, “I didn’t want it to be this way. None of this would have happened if you could have kept your nose out of my mine.”

  “What is down there?” she breathed. “What are you so scared for me to find? Did you kill Charlie? Is that it?”

  He pulled her hair until she stopped talking. “Just give up, you wretched troublemaker. Why won’t you get out of Gold Bar and never come back? When I pushed you in the trunk I was sure that would scare you off for good.”

  She blinked back tears of pain. “Give me back my samples.”

  “I told you,” he said, breath hot on her face, “you have to get out of town or...”

  “Or you’ll kill me like you’ve been trying to do since I got here?”

  “I didn’t want to hurt you,” he hissed. “You just wouldn’t let it go.” He pulled a knife from his pocket, the blade glittering.

  Shelby writhed and tried to scream but he clapped a hand over her mouth.

  “Remember that I didn’t want to,” he said, lifting the knife.

  She closed her eyes, breath still, waiting for the bite of the knife into her throat.

  There was a dull thud. Her eyes flew open as the knife fell from Hatcher’s grip. Before she could get to her feet, Hatcher toppled over sideways, unconscious. Uncle Ken stood, ashen faced, blood running down his cheeks, a rock still gripped in his hand.

  “It’s over,” he said, before he fell to his knees.

  * * *

  Barrett arrived at the Copper Creek Hospital within a half hour. As soon as he’d received Shelby’s text, he’d called the cops and raced to the scene to find that both Shelby and her uncle had already been discovered by a passing officer, who had summoned an ambulance and got them to the hospital.

  Barret’s mind still spun with the information he’d heard from Larraby, that Joe Hatcher had been arrested at the scene and was on another floor of the hospital being treated for a head injury inflicted by Ken Arroyo as he defended his niece’s life. Barrett forced himself not to run along the tiled hallways as he made his way to Shelby.

  He found her pacing, arms hugged around herself. She looked over and saw him, stopping her endless laps around the waiting room. She didn’t move, but tears streaked from her eyes. He didn’t say a word, just pulled her close and let her cry onto his chest. When her tears were spent, he guided her to a chair.

  “How is he?”

  She sucked in a breath. “He was bleeding internally and he’s in hypovolemic shock. They’ve given him a transfusion and medicines to help his heart beat more efficiently. They said they would have a better prognosis in the next twelve hours. He might be strong enough to recover, or his organs might shut down.” Her voice wobbled.

  “Okay,” he said, squeezing her hand. “And how about you?”

  “I’m okay.” She laughed bitterly. “It’s like Emmaline said, I must be invincible. Only the people around me get hurt.”

  The misery in her voice made him pull her closer. “It’s over now.”

  Larraby approached, sinking into a chair next to them. “I’m glad you are okay. We’ll keep your samples as evidence until we’ve cleared the scene, then you can have them back,” he said. “May I ask how your uncle is?”

  Shelby repeated the diagnosis, her voice shaky.

  Larraby nodded. “We’re all hoping he pulls through.”

  “But why did this happen?” she said. “Why did Hatcher risk everything to steal the samples? They could be worth nothing at all.”

  “I think I have an answer to that,” he said. “He can’t take the chance that the samples pave the way for excavation of the mine.”

  “Because he killed Charlie?”

  “That might be part of it.”

  They both stared at Larraby.

  He continued. “We found another way into the mine on Oscar’s property and sent in a team with a dog. They found Charlie’s body, just like you said—” he paused “—and another one down there.”

  Barrett gaped. “What? Whose?”

  “The remains appear to be female. She was wearing a necklace with C.H. engraved on the back.”

  Shelby gasped. “Cora Hatcher? Joe’s wife?”

  “Looks like she’s been dead about five years, right about the time he told
everyone she left town.” They fell into stunned silence for a few moments.

  “Why Charlie, though?” Barrett said. “What did he have to do with Hatcher?”

  “Nothing, except he was probably at the wrong place at the wrong time. He was getting close to discovering Cora’s body with his exploring, so Hatcher killed him and covered up the body.” Larraby tapped a finger on his notebook. “Hatcher might have figured he would go back and dispose of the remains more permanently at some point.”

  “Which would explain the red marks he left to point the way to the bodies,” Shelby said. She shivered and Barrett rubbed her shoulders. “It’s over now,” he said again.

  Shelby shook her head, exhaustion shadowing her face. “No, it’s not. Emmaline’s father is going to stay in prison for his whole life now because he murdered her mother. It’s never going to be over for her.” Her eyes flooded again. “And my uncle. What if he doesn’t survive?”

  Barrett took her hand and they stood. “Come on.”

  She allowed him to help her to her feet. “Where are we going?”

  “To the chapel. We’ll see you later, Larraby.”

  The officer gave a short nod before speaking into his radio.

  They made their way to the empty chapel and linked hands to pray. Shelby clung to Barrett, hands shaking, while he prayed for Ken Arroyo. At first the words were forced, until something loosened inside him and he felt his hatred slipping away like a blanket of fog, dissipating in the warmth of the sunlight. When the prayer ended, he hung on to the feeling, marveling, grateful, awed.

  They sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, as the time passed away. When Shelby began to droop, he led her back to the deserted waiting room where she lay down on an upholstered couch. He covered her with his jacket. She fought to stay awake.

  “But what if the doctors come? If Uncle Ken wakes up?”

  “I’ll stay right here. I’ll wake you if there’s any change.”

  Her lovely green eyes fixed on his and her voice was very small. “I’m scared to be alone.”

  He knew what it cost her to admit it. “I’m here,” he said, while he watched her slip into sleep.

  Barrett felt caged by the confines of the waiting room. He wandered to the threshold of Ken Arroyo’s room and then found himself standing at the man’s bed. Ken’s face was scratched and battered, lined with wrinkles too pronounced for a man of his age. Though he was a big guy, almost Barrett’s height, the hospital bed and the crowded machinery dwarfed him.

  There were no words to explain why Barrett laid his hand on Ken’s forearm, just the urging of his soul. He closed his eyes. “I know...” he began, then his breath failed and he needed to take another one. “I know that you love your son as much as I loved my wife.”

  “Yes,” came a croak of a reply.

  Barrett’s eyes flew open to see Ken Arroyo watching him, irises bright with some unnamed emotion.

  “And...and I know that you tried to be a good father.”

  Ken didn’t answer, but his chin quivered and a single tear ran down his cheek.

  “I’ve been wrong to hang on to hatred,” Barrett said. “I guess I need to ask for forgiveness as much as I need to offer it.”

  Slowly, Ken reached out until his shaking hand was inches from Barrett. Barrett grasped the cold fingers and he felt the hard stone of hatred dissolve in his heart. In Ken’s eyes, Barrett saw that he, too, had moved toward a place of peace.

  Barrett heard someone behind him and turned to find Shelby moving next to him, her own eyes streaming with tears, mouth trembling. She joined her hand to theirs, her crying twined with the soft sounds of the machinery.

  * * *

  Shelby awoke on the hard hospital couch, Barrett sitting quietly next to her. It took her a moment to realize that the previous day and long restless night had not been a dream. The most incredible part had really happened, her uncle had awakened, and he and Barrett had shared a divine moment of forgiveness.

  Through the fatigue and worry, the thought circled light and airy in her heart. So what did it mean for her and Barrett, she wondered? But it was not the time to think about it.

  Barrett’s family had arrived in shifts throughout the previous day and all through the night, making sure she was never alone. Now, when it was Evie’s turn, she sent Jack and Barrett off to fetch the Styrofoam container of soup that she had left in the truck.

  “Piping hot. It’s much better than the hospital cafeteria food, and I thought you might like some since you did not have dinner last night,” she said. Then she cleared her throat. “Shelby, I am so sorry about all that’s happened. I wish... I mean, I shouldn’t have...”

  Shelby gripped her hand. “You love your son. There’s no need to apologize for anything.”

  Evie bit her lip and took a breath. “I want you to come to Christmas Eve dinner at the ranch. Your uncle, too, if he is released.”

  “That’s a very kind offer but...”

  Evie held up a palm. “It’s not an offer, it’s an invitation. I want you to be there, and so does our family.”

  Shelby blinked against the tears. “Thank you.”

  The doctor found them in the waiting room.

  “He’s improving steadily,” she said. “I would venture to say he is going to make a complete recovery in the next week or so.”

  Shelby could not help but hug her around the shoulders.

  The doctor laughed. “I wish I could deliver this kind of news all the time. Now, why don’t you go home for a bit?”

  “No, I want to stay here.”

  “Your uncle is sleeping peacefully and there’s no reason you can’t pop home for a nap and a change of clothes.”

  Shelby looked down, realizing she was wearing the same ripped and stained jeans, though Evie had insisted she put on one of Barrett’s flannel shirts.

  “Go on, honey,” Evie said as Barrett and Jack arrived with a paper sack and the container of soup. “Take the soup home and eat it. Jack and I will stay right here while Barrett drives you home. He’ll pick you up whenever you’re ready to return, since you seem to have trouble with vehicles.”

  Shelby laughed. “All right. Just for a little while. I want to be sure the horses are taken care of.” She shot a look at Barrett. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

  “Naw, I’m pretty sure Mama packed some Christmas cookies in this bag so I will take that in lieu of a taxicab fee.”

  She followed him to his truck, happy to sink down on the seat and watch the scenery go by. The soup container in the cup holder let off a cloud of savory scent. Her senses felt dull and slow with the shock of all that had happened, mostly that Joe Hatcher had killed his wife and Charlie, and almost added her, Barrett and Uncle Ken to the list.

  Barrett scurried to open the door for her when they arrived and she let him. “I want to make sure Zeke has been seeing to the horses before I allow myself that shower,” she said.

  They walked up the slope and down toward the stables. A figure stepped from the shadowed barn. At first she thought it was Zeke until they got closer.

  “Emmaline,” Shelby said, her heart breaking. “I am so sorry for everything that’s happened.”

  “I’m not,” Emmaline said, pulling a gun from behind her skirt and firing.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  The bullet creased a hot trail along Barrett’s temple, hurling him to his back on the ground. He heard Shelby scream and drop to her knees beside him.

  “Why did you do that?” Shelby panted. “Barrett,” she whispered, fingers skimming his face as she tried to ascertain his injury.

  “Diamond doesn’t even know me anymore,” Emmaline said. “My mother gave me that horse and now...”

  Though his vision was blurred, Barrett could see Emmaline’s face twisted in
to a mask of hatred. He would not have recognized her.

  “You can have the horse,” Shelby said. “Take her, just leave us alone.”

  Emmaline did not appear to hear. “My mother sold her, just like that, wanted to move away from here. She didn’t care that I loved Diamond, loved Gold Bar. She never cared what I wanted. I hated her.”

  Barrett felt a sick sensation creep through the pain in his head. “You...” he wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t come.

  “So...” Shelby started, then stopped. She sucked in a breath as she must have come to the same realization. “Oh, Emmaline. You killed your mother, didn’t you?”

  The girl didn’t answer.

  “And your father, he did all these things to keep us out of the mine...in order to protect you.”

  “I did some of it,” she said proudly. “I’m handy with TNT and paint, and I’ve been snooping around the Thorns’ property, keeping tabs on your activities. I am a good snooper. I knew Dad’s idea to lock you in the trunk wouldn’t be enough, so I had to take the reins, so to speak.”

  “Charlie,” Barrett croaked in a desperate bid to keep her talking. “Why?”

  “I didn’t want to kill him,” Emmaline said. “He was handsome and funny. I got to know him when I helped out at the inn sometimes. I didn’t want to hurt him, but he kept on pushing deeper into the mine. I really did like him, but I couldn’t let him find Mother so I got him to take me along, and one shot, that was all. It was peaceful.”

  Shelby gasped. “I can’t believe this.”

  “Maybe you’ll believe it when I shoot you,” Emmaline said with a cunning smile. “Bullets are very convincing. I didn’t want to hurt you at first either. I mean, I helped you escape the mine and all, just to keep you safe and Daddy out of trouble for his dumb practical joke, but see where that kindness got me.”

  “But you can’t hide the truth anymore, Emmaline,” Shelby said. “The bodies have been discovered now, Charlie and your mother.”

  “And Daddy has already confessed. He will stick to the story because he loves me. I am all he has, you know, since Mother is dead, but if you persist in analyzing the samples, eventually the mine will be fully excavated and there will be evidence found to incriminate me.”