by Ed Gorman
“We have to find her,” she said.
We went single file up trail, each of us calling out her name, scanning the dense woods on either side of us. The eyes of a dozen creatures followed us. A raccoon sat close to the path watching each one of us from behind his black bandit mask. At that moment I wished that I knew those woods as well as he did.
“I’m so damned clumsy,” Jen said.
“Don’t start that,” I said. “This isn’t your fault. She’s a little girl who saw her mother raped and murdered. She’s liable to do anything.”
“Well, if I hadn’t tripped she wouldn’t have gotten away.”
“That’s another thing about Jen,” Mike said. “She’s all right unless something goes wrong. Then she usually blames herself.” Then: “There’s a path over there I’m gonna try. You keep on the trail here.”
He vanished into the trees off the path we were on.
“I don’t know how you can even think he killed anybody. Look how helpful he is with Clarice.”
“There’s no time for that now, Jen. We need to find Clarice.”
Jen and I kept repeating Clarice’s name. We sounded increasingly frenzied. The prospect of a little girl lost in those woods—
There is a truth among saloonkeepers that a man is at his most dangerous when he’s been betrayed by his woman.
That is also true about people who are responsible for children who have suddenly disappeared. A real madness sets in. Hard enough to think about adults you care for falling into dark clutches. But when a vulnerable child is in possible peril—
In the war you would see battles that spread to farmhouses. You would see the mothers in gingham searching desperately for their little ones before the soldiers were pushed back to their front yards. Their voices were terrible to hear—that mixture of fear and terror and hope as the guns and cries of war came nearer and nearer. And somewhere their little ones lost.
We spent the next fifteen minutes on and off the path. Once we thought we heard something—neither of us quite sure what it was—something like a little girl’s cry. But we decided it was an animal and then continued on searching.
It must have been twenty minutes before we came to the mouth of the path. Small sobs exploded in Jen’s throat every few minutes. I sensed she was punishing herself.
She tripped again. Ordinarily, she’d probably have resented me picking her up. She was the kind who wanted to pick herself up. But there wasn’t any time for her to find her strength and then climb back. And that bump on her head must have still been hurting.
I got her to her feet.
“I don’t know how I could’ve let her out of my sight like this.”
“Don’t be stupid. You didn’t hit your head again?”
But instead of answering me, she called out Clarice’s name again and began stumbling forward on the path. She slipped once, dropping to one knee. But she’d be damned if I helped her up again. She did it herself.
We could hear Mike somewhere in the darkness west of the trail. His voice had taken on the same edge as ours. Increasingly scared, increasingly frustrated.
I was right behind Jen as we approached the opening of the path that would take us to the mountain trail most people used in their ascent. By that point, both Jen and I seemed to have a new energy borne of pure fear for Clarice. I kept playing the same possibilities over and over, everything from mountain lions to outcroppings where a little girl might plunge a hundred feet to her death.
Jen reached the trail before I did.
I could hear horses nearby.
She mustn’t have seen anything at first. She ran out onto the trail. She looked back down and then quickly up the trail. Then her body sort of jerked backward, as if somebody had punched her.
I heard her gasp and then say, “Oh, Lord.”
I took the last few steps to reach her.
And before I could quite see what she was responding to, a harsh male voice said: “I think this is the little girl you’re looking for, isn’t it, Ford?” It was Connelly talking.
Then I saw them, Connelly and Pepper. Connelly had grabbed Clarice. She must have wandered onto the main trail when she ran off. Her eyes were luminous with terror.
He had her in front of him on his saddle, big mittened hand covering her mouth.
Pepper had a Colt on Mike.
Mike said: “I found Clarice but Connelly grabbed her before I could.”
Pepper laughed: “And then we found both of them. Worked out real nice.”
Connelly laughed. “That Mike’s a real hero, though, isn’t he? How much of that bank money you stole did you hide away somewhere?”
“None,” Mike snapped.
Connelly said: “I got to give you one thing, kid. You sure have a way with the ladies. But if a certain man I know ever finds out that you were with his lady you’re in bigger trouble than ever. And I think you know who I’m talking about.”
“Shut up!” Mike half-shouted. He sounded as much nervous as angry. Made me wonder who Connelly was talking about.
But Connelly was finished stirring up Mike. “If you’d be kind enough to empty your weapons and then throw the bullets into the woods, I’d be most appreciative.”
Pepper: “You do that and we’ll hand the girl back. And then we’ll take the killer here into town.”
Jen glanced at me. She wanted to fight. She’d be angry that I didn’t agree. But Connelly and Pepper were running this particular face-off. They had the girl and they had Mike.
“I want your guarantee you won’t hurt him,” I snapped.
“You’re a bossy bastard, you know that, Noah? And it’s not just me and Pepper say that, either. A lot of men in the agency do. ‘He’s a nice fella, that Noah Ford,’ they say, ‘but he thinks he runs the whole show.’ They say that a lot, don’t they, Pepper?”
“They sure do. You mention the name Noah Ford and that’s all you hear. How he always puts himself in charge of everything.”
“But this time, Noah, we’re in charge. And we’re telling you to empty your guns and then drop them. And then throw the bullets into the woods. Same with the gal. You do the same, miss.”
Jen glared at me. Then glared back at Connelly.
“Takes a tough man to hold on to a little girl the way you are.”
“You can’t insult me, miss, because I don’t give a shit whether you like me or not. And when you don’t care what people think of you, you can do just about anything you care to.”
Clarice started wrestling around under his grip. Forcing him to demonstrate that she wasn’t as easy to hold on to as he’d just insinuated.
I had to make a decision, and I had to make it fast. I knew that I couldn’t trust Connelly and Pepper to keep their word. They were a lot of things, but honest wasn’t one of them. But what choice did I have? If we tried to fight, we’d be killed before we even got off a single shot.
On the other hand, I didn’t really think they would kill us, not now that they had Chaney. He’d be a witness against them, and even two senators couldn’t save Connelly and Pepper if they were accused of killing a federal agent. So they had a choice, too. They could kill all of us, including Chaney, and lose the glory that would come with taking him in alive, or they could leave Jen, Clarice, and me alive, knowing that it would take a long time for us to get back to town—and we might not even make it.
Not much of a choice. One way we died for sure, and one way we had a small hope.
I did the only thing I could. I emptied the carbine and then I emptied my .44. I hurled everything into the woods.
“Now you, ma’am,” Connelly said.
He was enjoying himself. I wondered if this was as much fun as taking a broom to a defenseless woman. Or killing a little boy. Probably not.
“We don’t have any choice,” I said to Jen.
She frowned at me, then set about doing what I just had. But she did it at her own pace, purposely irritating Connelly and Pepper.
She hurled her bullets into the wood
s.
“You’ve got a nice throwing arm there, lady. You could be an outfielder.”
He encircled Clarice with his right arm and then carefully climbed down from his horse. Once they were on the ground, Clarice tried to kick him. “I don’t know what it is about gals around here. That Jen gal there, she’d put a knife in my back first chance she got. And this little one here—”
He shoved Clarice toward Jen. The girl, sobbing suddenly, fell into Jen’s arms. Jen picked her up, holding her tight.
Pepper kept his carbine trained on Mike.
“I want an understanding here,” I said.
“Yeah,” Pepper said, “and what would that be?”
“That would be that Mike is alive when you get him back to town.”
“You sure worry a lot about a cold-blooded killer,” Connelly said.
“I want him alive,” I said. “And you better remember that.”
“See, Noah, there you go again,” Connelly said. “Bein’ the boss. Tellin’ me this and tellin’ me that. And now you’re threatening me on top of it. I don’t like that. And I’ll bet Pepper doesn’t like it, either.” He called over his shoulder. “Isn’t that right, Pepper?”
“I don’t like threats and I don’t like Ford.”
Connelly smiled. “Now there’s a vote of confidence for you, Mr. Ford.”
“Just remember what I said about getting Mike back safe, Connelly. I’m going to hold you responsible.”
In the moonlight, Mike’s young face looked sad and scared. He had to know that these men would shoot him for anything he did that so much as irritated them.
“I’ll see you in town,” he said. His voice was shaking.
Jen’s attention was divided. Clarice was still crying, the sound muffled because her face was buried in Jen’s shoulder. But Jen also wanted to comfort her brother in some way, too. Reassure him so he wouldn’t be so afraid. But all she managed was: “I’ll see you in town, Mike. You’ll get a fair hearing. Noah will see to it.”
Pepper dropped down from his saddle, crunched through the snow to Mike. The soaring mountains outlined in the moonlight, the blue-tinted snow, three deer crossing the mountain path just below us—an ideal picture of the mountains. Connelly and Pepper shouldn’t have been in that picture at all. They were vulgar, profane.
Mike started to talk but before he got three words out, Pepper whipped out a pair of handcuffs and clamped them on Mike’s wrists. Then Pepper went back to his horse and produced a good stretch of rope. He tied this around Mike’s neck. Pepper went back to his horse and climbed up in the saddle. Connelly helped Mike up into Pepper’s saddle, in the front position. If Mike tried to escape, he wouldn’t get far. The rope wasn’t very long.
“Probably be tomorrow before you folks get back to town,” Pepper said. “Be a hell of a cold walk for ya.”
Connelly came over to me. I knew what to expect. With Pepper’s carbine on me, Connelly could do what he wanted. I just hoped he didn’t break anything. We had a long cold walk back to town ahead of us.
He put his fist wrist-deep into my stomach and just when I was buckling, he brought his right fist up and caught me square on the jaw. When I lunged for him, Pepper sent a bullet searing right past my shoulder.
“You try to hit him again, Ford,” Pepper said, “I’ll kill you on the spot.”
Connelly went for my groin with his knee and then when I was in enough writhing pain there on the ground, he decided to stomp on my hand. His spur jangled as he raised his boot for the stomping.
And then I didn’t give a damn. Let Pepper kill me. Right then all that mattered was getting to Connelly. Just when he was ready to crush my gun hand, I reached up and grabbed his boot with enough force to jerk him off balance. Then I was on my feet and ready to get some vengeance. I slammed a fist to his forehead and then returned the favor to his groin.
I was just ready to start stomping him once I had him on his knees and ready to spill over backward when Pepper must have sighted his rifle because suddenly Jen was there, standing in front of me and screaming, “You’ll have to shoot me to get to him! Are you ready to do that?”
Any other time, I would have smiled at Jen’s words. Anybody who’d done to a woman what Pepper had done to Clarice’s mother wouldn’t hesitate to merely shoot a woman. That was a nice, clean, civilized job compared to what he’d done back there in that cabin where Clarice and her mother and brother had been staying.
But for right then I was grateful to Jen for so foolishly shielding me. Pepper probably understood that he might get away with killing Mike in cold blood—he might even get away with killing me that way, too—but killing Jen? Nordberg wouldn’t stand for that. He’d make Connelly and Pepper pay for sure.
“Put the rifle down,” Connelly said, rising uncomfortably to his feet, grimacing from groin pain every few seconds. “Let’s just get the hell out of here.”
He walked bowlegged over to his horse. Any other time watching him walk would have been funny, but now it was just grotesque. Like Connelly himself.
“G’bye, Jen,” Mike said from atop Pepper’s horse.
“You’ll be fine, Mike,” she said. “I know you will be.”
Connelly laughed, though pain was evident in his voice.
“That’s right, little brother. We’ll take real good care of you.” Then to me: “This isn’t over between us. You know that, don’t you?”
I didn’t say anything. I was tired of all his bad-guy bullshit. There comes a point when people like Connelly talked tough just to hear their own voices.
Then they rode off.
Chapter 22
Our first thought was to start after them right away. But then I suggested we try and get some sleep and then set out.
At first, Jen balked. I didn’t blame her. If Mike was my brother, I’d want to go after them immediately.
But he wasn’t my brother and so I could look at things with a clearer eye. Clarice had already fallen into a fitful sleep. And Jen and I were tired, too. Why not use the lean-to Mike and I had thrown together?
Jen needed to curse somebody so she cursed me. I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t give a damn about her brother. I was going to get reprimanded when she wrote a letter to my boss.
But after she choked down a piece of bread and positioned herself next to Clarice under the lean-to, she was asleep in just a few minutes. She worked up some good snoring pretty fast, too.
For a time, I couldn’t sleep. I dwelt on some of those bad memories that never seem fresher or more urgent than when you’re lying awake like that. People who hated me; things they’d said. People I hated; things I’d said. People who’d failed me; people I’d failed. Nothing about the present time, nothing about Jen or Clarice or Mike or Connelly. Just things from the past. Too bad they couldn’t be cut out with a scalpel.
Then I finally slept, but on my arm, crooked, so that it hurt some when I woke up.
When I finally fought my eyes open, I had one of those moments when I wasn’t sure where I was.
Darkness. Snow. Broken moonlight.
“Let’s get going.”
I raised my head. Jen carried my rifle in one hand and was holding Clarice over her shoulder with the other. I took the rifle and loaded it with the extra bullets I kept in my pocket.
I walked down trail and pissed and came back and said, “I’ll take her.”
“I wouldn’t want to make you actually work.”
Still pissed off.
“Even if you didn’t, I needed to rest.”
“Maybe you’re too old for this job.”
“I’m forty-one. I’ve probably got a few good years left.”
“They’ll kill him.”
“Maybe not. I warned them.”
“Yeah, and they really looked scared.”
I glared at her. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I’m tired of weak men. I’ve never met a so-called man who could measure up to my father.”
“Lead on, General.”
She led on.
When we’d gone no more than ten yards, she turned around, Clarice in her arms and said, “You could’ve done something.”
“I tried. But it’s hard to do anything when somebody’s pointing a carbine at you, which, in case you hadn’t noticed, Pepper was doing.”
“You’re a federal man. That’s supposed to mean something.”
I laughed bitterly. “Mean what? That bullets don’t hurt us? You’re being stupid, Jen. I’m sorry they took Mike. I hope they take him in alive. I warned them.”
As soon as I said it, I knew I shouldn’t have. I’d just handed her a weapon.
“The big brave federal man warned them.” She smirked. “I could’ve done that myself. It doesn’t take any guts to just warn somebody—especially if you don’t back it up with anything.”
She turned around and started walking.
There were birds before there was light. There were birds and then there were wolves and then there were more birds. And then there was that streaky half-light. By then, Clarice had been set down and was walking just behind Jen.
The sun was starting to send brilliant lances across the still-dark sky. Stars were starting to vanish. A mist lay across the moon. Between our own footfalls you could hear the animals in the snow in the forest on either side of us.
I was working over her remark about her father. That went a long way in explaining why she was still not married. We talk about mamas’ boys a lot but we never pay much attention to women who are under the sway of their fathers. And the sway can imprison them even beyond the grave. I knew I wasn’t tough but I also knew I wasn’t weak. I did my job and I’d survived quite a few different times that other men wouldn’t have. So her words stung. I didn’t have much of a life except for my job and when somebody attacked me for not doing that well—
“I need to do my business.”
That was the official way we now discussed toilet needs. “My business.” Clarice said it curtly, then headed off into the woods.
“Don’t go very far,” Jen said.
“She’ll be all right.”
“Thanks for the reassurance.”