by Jackie Lynn
Wellington’s right-hand man, Caldwell, smiled. “I don’t think so, Sheriff.”
He moved over to Rose and grinned in her face. “Ms. Rose Franklin, you know, we were so close yesterday to taking care of all of this, but now it looks like you’ve involved a lot of other people.”
Wellington laughed.
Caldwell backed away and glanced around at his cohorts.
“Tie them up, too. We’ll take them to the car.”
The men forced John and Daniel to their knees. One of the pair stayed focused on them while the other pulled duct tape out of his pocket and began tying up the sheriff’s hands first and then moved over to Rose. He shoved them both down next to the other hostages and then pulled Agent Lujan out of his seat. Clearly, the quick movement caused the injured man more pain, as he buckled to his knees, wrapping his arms around his waist.
Rose watched Caldwell’s assistant pull him up and then tape his hands together behind his back. Lujan struggled to lift himself, and then the man kicked him over to where the others knelt.
Rose winced to see him in such agony and turned away so as not to face him directly. She could not imagine getting out of this situation with the same ease and good fortune she’d had when she was in the camper. She noticed the ax handle but knew that was no match for the three guns the other men had. She watched as the sheriff kept trying to negotiate.
“There’s no need to keep all of us,” he pleaded. “Just let them go.”
“Shut up!” Wellington yelled, and everyone at the riverbank went silent.
That was when Rose heard the faint sound of a motorcycle. She struggled to listen and then she was certain. She heard more than just one, and the bikes were headed in their direction.
TWENTY-SEVEN
At first, it seemed to Rose that no one else noticed the approaching roar of the engines, but soon, it was evident that Wellington recognized help was on the way for his hostages.
He yelled for his associates to hurry the others up from the bank and through the woods, toward the house. Rose fell as she was being shoved along, but she was quickly pulled up and once again pushed forward. Even with the quickened pace, however, Wellington and the gunmen were not fast enough.
By the time they got to Sheriff Montgomery’s house, the place was surrounded with what appeared to be a squad of Hell’s Angels. Rose immediately recognized them as the gang that Lucas liked to ride with, the Welcome Wagon group.
There must have been twenty or more large men with lots of tattoos and plenty of attitude pulling up on motorcycles and moving in all directions. Only one deputy’s car followed in behind them, but the siren blared as if a fleet of patrolmen were coming in.
“Get down,” the sheriff yelled to Rose and the other hostages when he realized that there could be gunfire exchanged. The sheriff and the other four immediately dropped to the ground.
Wellington made a run for the SUV parked beside the camper, but Lucas jumped off his bike and tackled him before he made it to the door. When Caldwell and the other two men realized they were completely at a disadvantage, they dropped their weapons and raised their hands. The motorcycle riders circled them as the two deputies quickly moved in.
Sheriff Montgomery hurried over to one of the men on the motorcycles and gestured behind him at his taped wrists. The man immediately pulled out a knife and cut him loose. The sheriff then ran over, picked up Caldwell’s firearm, and headed to where Lucas had his knee on Robert Wellington’s neck and seemed to be bowed in prayer.
Rose wasn’t sure whether it was a prayer of thanksgiving he was offering or one of forgiveness. Although it was obvious that he was doing the right thing in his rescue, Rose knew Lucas was not a violent man.
The sheriff handcuffed Wellington while the deputies took care of the other three.
“These men are under arrest for murder, kidnapping, burglary, possession of stolen goods, and”—he paused as they walked toward the car—“a slew of other crimes that I haven’t even thought of yet.”
He shoved them in the car and walked over to the other hostages. He borrowed the knife and began snapping off the tape from Rose, Agent Lujan, and finally the Sunspeaker men.
“You need me to call you an ambulance?” he asked Philip Lujan.
The agent shook his head and twisted a bit from side to side. “No, I think I’m feeling better now.” He turned to Rose. “You got a mean swing, though,” he said.
She rubbed her wrists. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s all right,” he replied.
The Sunspeakers joined them as they gathered near the car where Lucas and the sheriff were already standing.
“How did you find out about all of this?” she asked Lucas. She reached up and hugged her friend, shaking her head in disbelief.
“Willie,” Lucas said.
Rose was puzzled.
“Willie saw the SUV in the campground this afternoon. It pulled in next to the big rig from California,” he explained.
“Wellington,” Rose added.
The others leaned in to hear.
Lucas nodded. “He remembered that it was the second car that had entered Shady Grove the night the man from New Mexico was murdered.” He turned to John and Daniel Sun-speaker, both of whom were listening. “I’m sorry,” he said to the two men, appearing as if he knew they were family.
They nodded at Lucas.
“Anyway,” he said, getting back to the story, “Willie came over to the office, where Rhonda and I were, and told us. So when those fellows left, I followed the vehicle over to the motel and could tell right away there was more trouble about to break.”
Rose was enjoying hearing his account of things.
“I called some friends, ran into Deputy Dog over there on Second Street, where the gang was gathering, and he said you had come by the office and were heading out here.” He pointed with his chin over to some of the motorcycle riders. “Rhonda’s there.”
Rose searched among the other riders and found her friend as she removed her helmet. Her red hair fell out on her shoulders. They smiled at each other.
“I told her to stay at Shady Grove, but she said if you were here, she was coming.” Lucas winked at his wife, who waved in response. “She thinks of you like a sister.”
Rose nodded. She felt exactly the same way.
“So that’s what happened.”
Rose reached up, hugging Lucas again. “Where would I be without you?” she said.
John Sunspeaker searched around the grounds, trying to locate the ladder. When he did, he went over, picked it up, took it out of the plastic bag, and handed it to Agent Lujan. “My uncle understood that you would know what to do with this,” he said.
Agent Lujan nodded. He took the ladder from the dead man’s nephew. “He called me a long time ago to say he had been troubled by a dream, a dream of restless spirits.”
Hearing that, Rose remembered the dream she’d had when she was in the stolen camper. She realized it was the same one the dead man had dreamed. She walked closer to hear the conversation.
The agent continued. “He told me about an old ladder that his family had passed down from generation to generation but that had been lost or stolen many years ago.”
John Sunspeaker nodded, already knowing the story. “He knew it had come from an ancestor who had escaped the terrible slaughter in Louisiana, the extinction of the Natchez people.”
Rose had read this story while she had been researching at the library. She knew that there had been almost five thousand people in that tribe, that their ruler was the Great Sun, and that he lived in a huge dwelling on a high, flat-topped mound. She remembered reading the account from 1729. The French attacked the tribe, trying to gain control of the leader’s home. The entire tribe had been destroyed. She knew that most had been killed or taken as slaves but that a few had survived and fled the region.
Based upon the comments the nephew had made, she assumed that Mr. Sunspeaker’s ancestor had been one of those who
became a refugee in the Southwest, that he must have become a part of the Zuni tribe, another pueblo people who believed their high priest and political chief was a descendant of the Great Sun.
She listened to the two men as they continued talking.
“Our ancestor brought with him pieces of strong wood and stones from his leader’s fallen home. He was to build the ladder for the lost spirits of his people. The story goes that the ladder had to be built and then returned to Natchez and that without it the spirits of the people could not find their way home.” John Sunspeaker looked over at the ladder he had handed to Philip Lujan.
“My mother’s brother was troubled for a very long time. He served in the war and came back to the pueblo as a man broken, lost. He was taken to prison, always in fights, always drunk. And then he received the vision to find and return the ladder to Natchez.
“From that time on, he searched for it. He was a new man, a man with purpose. Once he found the ladder stored away in some museum, he replaced all of the missing stones that had been stolen, and he knew he would see it returned to its rightful place. It was all he lived for.”
Agent Lujan held the ladder reverently.
John Sunspeaker lowered his head and a breeze poured through the trees. It was a passing wind that shifted through budding limbs and stirred the piles of cold, wet leaves. And just as swiftly as it came, it went. It seemed to Rose that it signaled the easy passage of a captured soul, suddenly released.
“There is this, as well,’ the sheriff said, breaking the silence. He walked over to the dead man’s nephew and handed him the bracelet Rose had found.
The man smiled and took the piece of jewelry, then placed it in his son’s hands. They nodded at each other and spoke softly in the Zuni language. The father slid his arm across the younger man’s neck; then a silence fell between them.
John Sunspeaker then turned to the group gathered around him. “We thank you for taking care to find our uncle’s murderers, for securing the ladder, and for helping us find peace for our journey home.”
Rose considered the long trip they still had ahead of them as they returned to New Mexico. She considered inviting them for dinner, since the hour was late, but then she remembered that she didn’t really have anything to offer them. Her cupboard was bare, she recalled.
And then just as she had that thought, Thomas, Ms. Lou Ellen, and Mary pulled up in Ms. Lou Ellen’s car. Thomas jumped out and ran over to Rose.
“Are you all right?” he asked, reaching for her.
She felt his arms around her once again. “I am now,” she said.
“Rose, dear,” Ms. Lou Ellen was calling out as she emerged from the car. “If you don’t refrain from this dangerous behavior, I swear I am going to be as big as the side of a house. I can’t keep expecting to hear bad news and finding it necessary to eat so much.” She moved in Rose’s direction. “Because if you continue being involved in this kind of harm, we will one day finally be celebrating your funeral.” She reached over and pinched her friend roughly on the arm.
Rose pulled her arm away and rubbed it. She grimaced. “Yes, ma’am,” she replied.
Lucas and Thomas laughed.
Rose remembered that she wanted to offer dinner to the men visiting West Memphis. She had an idea.
“How about let’s put an end to all of this death talk and eat all that funeral food tonight?” she said. “Let’s just get rid of it and forget completely about any more anticipatory grief.”
“You got folks in mind to share all that with?” Lucas asked, remembering how much food there still was at his mother-in-law’s house.
“Absolutely,” Rose replied, turning in the direction of the three men from out of state.
“Well, where are my manners?” said Ms. Lou Ellen, holding out her hand to the men standing by Rose.
Suddenly, Mary opened the rear door of the car and the three-legged dog jumped from the backseat and ran over to Daniel Sunspeaker.
The young man reached down and picked up his great-uncle’s pet. “Look, Dad,” he said to his father, “it’s Lucky.”
Ms. Lou Ellen and Rose watched as both men petted the one they had come to know as Lester Earl.
Mary walked over to the group. “This your dog?” she asked Daniel.
The young man nodded. “He was a family pet,” he said, “Lucky.”
“You take him with you?” Mary asked, surprising everyone with her question. The concern in her voice could not be masked.
The three-legged mutt jumped from the boy’s arms and limped over to the women. Without a word, it was Mary who immediately scooped him up and gave him a big kiss. Ms. Lou Ellen and Rose watched in amazement.
“I guess Lucky is still lucky,” the young man’s father responded.“He should stay here, since I expect he will be happier,” he added. “He has always fancied the arms of women.”
Mary smiled at the answer, while Ms. Lou Ellen, simply and elegantly, threw back her head and laughed out loud.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Rose’s decision to return to Rocky Mount had nothing to do with a feeling of obligation or duty and everything to do with the solving of a murder. She was guided by the dream from an old man’s ladder.
She thought about it all night after her friends had gathered to eat every morsel cooked by Ms. Lou Ellen in loving preparation for Rose’s funeral. She had stayed later than she had planned and then walked home, stuffed and satisfied and at peace with where she was and how things had turned out.
The Sunspeaker men, the nephew and great-nephew of the man who bore a burdensome dream, joined them for food and drink, speaking only sparingly as the group from Shady Grove prodded them with questions and too many stories of their own.
Rose had asked about the bracelet, about a funeral for the elder, and about their lives in the pueblo. The bracelet was to go to the great-nephew, a link in the chain of the male relatives. It told, as she had suspected, the story of the Natchez people, the story of Jacob’s ladder. The elder Sunspeaker had made the piece of jewelry after he had received the first dream, when he first began to understand his quest.
The funeral was not discussed, as the subject of death was not for idle conversation among the family members of the deceased. As for their lives in New Mexico, John Sunspeaker simply acknowledged the vast openness of the desert landscape, saying that it was the only home he and his family knew. He extended an open invitation for Rose and the others to visit his pueblo at any time.
Philip Lujan had been the one to show the two men the exact location where their loved one had died. The three of them stayed by the river for more than an hour, and they returned only briefly for the meal and some conversation before leaving for their respective homes.
When it came time for Rose to depart from the gathering of friends, it was obvious to everyone that she had been affected in some unexplained way by the three men’s silent strength and by their resolve to honor their familial ties. Although no one but Thomas understood the decision she was making, once the night was over, everyone saw that she had made up her mind about something.
She walked hand in hand with Thomas, noticing the trail to her right, the one that led up to the site where Mr. Jacob Sunspeaker had parked, the place where he had died. She stood looking for a moment, curious about what the younger men had done there, almost walking down to see, and then finally understanding the sacredness of their good-byes. She knew not to trespass upon it.
Instead, she turned to walk forward on her own journey. Without bearing right and moving toward her travel trailer, her home, she moved straight down to the banks of the muddy Mississippi, lifted her face in the air, breathing in the late-night river smells, and sat down.
Thomas joined her, his arm securely around her, and at the moment he pulled her closer to him, she announced what she was going to do. She faced the city opposite them, the land over east, as if it she were announcing it to the people there, as well.
Thomas said nothing when she explained. He o
nly nodded his head in understanding. He offered to take her, said he’d ride next to her and stay with her for as long as she planned to be there.
She smiled at the offer, sat with the tenderness of it, let the proposal of such a thing flow across her mind. Then she turned to him with complete clarity.
“No,” she said. “This is mine to do alone.”
He did not reply. He understood that part of her decision, as well. Later, as they stood at her camper and said good night, they held each other a little longer than usual, knowing it would be more than a few days before they would see each other again.
She drove out of Shady Grove early the next morning. Old Man Willie waved at her from his front porch. He was the only one she saw as she left. The lights were still out at the cabin and the office, and she hesitated at first to leave without saying goodbye. She knew, however, that she would be coming back, so she just moved out slowly so as not to wake her friends.
Thomas would tell the others soon enough, she knew. And they would be waiting when she was ready to come home.
She took the turn out of the campground, watching from the rearview mirror, glad she had such a place to return to. She put on her seat belt just as she merged on the interstate and settled in for the long drive she had in front of her.
She sped through Memphis without radio or taped music, noticing that the town was only just starting to show signs of a morning commute. She drove onto Jackson and Nashville, enjoying the silence and the grand arrival of dawn, before she finally decided to stop and take a break.
She pulled off the interstate just as the sun was high and full, welcoming the beginning of a new day. She gassed up, got a sweet roll and a cup of coffee, and stood outside her car, watching the traffic pick up along I-40, heading both east and west.
It was, she realized, a beautiful spring morning, so full of possibility. She glanced in her backseat, remembering that she had packed a few things, not sure how long she would stay, not sure of what she would take as a sign that she could leave, that she had completed her task. She understood, however, as she contemplated the trip, that this was a journey not about days or hours or a need to be finished; it was a journey as important as one from world to world, life to death.