by Dayle Gaetz
“So did Ryan show?”
“Yes,” Sheila told him. “I think so.”
“What do you mean you think so? Either he did or he didn’t.”
“Okay, he did. But the Couttses have him too because I think he tried to protect Huntley and Wendell.
Rusty, we’ve got to do something before it’s too late.”
Ten minutes later, Sheila, Katie and Rusty were hunkered below a small, lighted window of the portable.
To their right were four wooden steps up to a tightly closed door.
“One of us needs to peek in,” Sheila whispered.
“The tallest one,” Katie suggested.
“And the most athletic,” Rusty added.
“I guess we know who’s elected,” Sheila sighed.
Facing the wall, Sheila pressed her fingers against the cold aluminum, and dew dampened her hands.
She straightened her knees and reached toward the sill above her head. Light poured out into the night.
Her fingers curled around the thin aluminum sill and she pulled. The top of her head didn’t quite reach the bottom of the window. She sank down again.
“I need something to stand on,” she whispered.
Quickly and quietly, they scouted around the corner. Rusty pointed to a pile of clutter tossed from the burned portable. A metal chair lay on its side, almost intact. They placed it beneath the window.
Sheila climbed on the chair. Higher, higher, fingers on the sill, eyes level with the sill. An inch farther and she was looking inside.
A tall, slender woman with a thick mane of jet-black hair and a stocky man with dark blond hair stood close together, talking quietly, their backs to Sheila. The man, Glen, held a gun at his side.
The wall to Sheila’s left was blackened and slightly buckled; not a shred of glass remained in the large window frame. But the remainder of the room looked surprisingly normal. In front of her were two desks and several office chairs, and beyond them was a large table holding what looked like a model of a small city: rows of little houses, a stretch of green grass with tiny flags at intervals like a miniature golf course, a pond and a cluster of larger buildings.
On the far side of the table, three people sat on straight wooden armchairs. But their arms didn’t rest on the chairs. They were twisted behind their backs.
Sheila couldn’t see their feet, but guessed they must be tied. Behind them was another small window and a back door.
Wendell stared straight ahead, glaring daggers at the two Couttses. To his left was a younger man, but not as young as Ryan. He hung his head. Sheila wobbled and almost fell backward off the chair. She clutched the windowsill with her fingertips and stared in disbelief. Ben! Not Ben! How could it be Ben?
On Wendell’s other side, Huntley stared right at her.
He nodded almost imperceptibly, then his eyes shifted deliberately to Marla and Glen. They were walking toward the door. Sheila jumped off the chair.
“Get out of sight! Quick!” she whispered and led the way around the corner of the portable. Behind them the door was flung open so hard it smashed against the side of the building. Then it slammed shut again.
Sheila, Katie and Rusty pressed up against the wall and held their breath.
“This is just great!” Glen shouted. “How do you propose to get us out of this mess?”
“Obviously we can’t let them go,” Marla responded, her voice cool, composed.
“What do you want me to do? Shoot them? The boy too? How could you let this happen?”
“You went along quite happily until now, so don’t blame me because some stupid old man and a nosy little kid got in the way.”
“But no one was supposed to get hurt!” Glen moaned.
“Of course not. So what do you propose we do?
Turn ourselves in?”
“And lose everything? Don’t be stupid!”
“All right then,” Marla said. “Obviously we can’t shoot them. How would we explain that? But if that turncoat, Ben, were to show up here in the middle of the night to finish the job he started, then it will be his fault, not ours, if those two got themselves trapped inside a burning building. And if Ben accidentally got too close to the fire himself, no one would really be sorry, would they?”
“But how do we explain the boy and the old man being in there in the first place?”
“We don’t. We know nothing about it. We weren’t even here. Maybe Ben locked them inside because they caught him trying to set a fire.”
There was a long pause. Sheila took shallow breaths. An acrid, burnt smell filled her nostrils and she realized she was pressed up against the blackened wall of the building.
“Believe me,” Marla said, her voice softer now, “I wish there were another way.”
“Me too,” her husband replied, “me too.”
The door opened and the couple went back inside.
Katie looked at Sheila and Rusty as they moved away from the grimy wall.
“Ben?” Katie whispered. “So it was Ben after all?”
“Yes, I can’t believe it! I was sure it had to be Ryan!”
“Who cares whether it’s Ben or Ryan in there?” Rusty danced from one foot to the other impatiently. “We’ve got to do something—now!”
“Right,” Katie agreed. “Okay, let’s think this through. Somehow we’ve got to lure the Couttses outside. But first, Sheila, tell us exactly what you saw in there.”
After Sheila described the setup inside, they made their rescue plans.
22
“Are you sure you can handle this?” Sheila asked.
“Simple.” Rusty’s voice croaked with a fear he couldn’t hide.
“No problem,” Katie assured her, but she sounded as scared as Rusty. Katie fished her flashlight out of her backpack. “I’ll keep this handy, we might need it.”
The two set off for the barbed wire fence.
Sheila waited, listening, afraid the Couttses would make their move too soon. All alone, close beside the portable, Sheila clutched her CD player, tucked in its pouch with the headphones removed, tight against her stomach. The stink of singed metal and charred wood turned her stomach, but at least that horrible ache had gone away. Instead, she trembled with a deep, cold fear, and her heart beat fast against her ribs. Waiting was the worst part. Already it seemed like Katie and Rusty had been gone for hours.
If everything went exactly right, exactly as planned, they would all get out of this and no one would be hurt. She waited. And waited. Had something gone wrong? Then she heard barking up on the hill. She held her breath, her heart lurched. Almost time.
Please let everything go right!
She pictured Rusty up by the truck, holding Rebel’s collar but encouraging him to bark like crazy. In a minute he and Katie would take Rebel down past Wendell’s trailer. Sheila had told them exactly what to do, but could they handle it? Really?
If only Katie had stayed here and she had been the one to go…but they all agreed Sheila had the best chance of getting inside. And besides, she felt better with her friends out of danger. For the time being at least.
The door to the portable flew open. Heavy feet ran down the steps. “What on earth?” Glen shouted.
Marla’s voice came from the porch. “That stupid dog has managed to escape! You must have left a window open. You’d better take care of it.”
Sheila could see him then, his dark outline lumbering toward the barbed wire fence. Marla went back inside and closed the door.
It was time.
Sheila darted to the edge of the woods, about thirty feet from the portable. Beneath the pines, everything was black. She couldn’t see. She placed a hand on the rough bark of the nearest tree, felt her way around it, walked a few steps farther in. And stopped. Listened. Silence.
Good. Rebel had stopped barking. A good sign.
She glanced back at the lighted, glassless window, took a deep breath and placed her CD player on the ground behind the nearest tree. Ready. Now. She s
witched it on, full volume. Loud country music blared into the quiet night. Sheila ran for the portable.
The door burst open again as Sheila raced out of sight. Feet tumbled down the stairs. Sheila climbed onto the metal chair she had moved to the larger window. Her fingers curled over the frame and she boosted herself up and over. Almost. Half in, half out the window. Her legs stuck outside, waving frantically, and the top of her body hung inside the portable. With an expert flip she threw herself down, landed on her hands, tumbled over in a somersault and landed on her feet. Without breaking stride she ran to pull the door closed, locked it and raced toward three startled faces at the back of the room.
In a flash she had Huntley’s hands untied. While he bent to untie his feet, she moved on to Wendell. But this knot was tight and she struggled with it. Meanwhile, Huntley freed himself and ran over to Ben.
“Leave him!” Sheila said. “Get out the back door!
Quick, before Glen gets back with that gun!”
Before Huntley could reply, the music outside stopped abruptly. “Glen!” Marla screamed, her voice shrill as a siren outside the window. “Get back down here fast!”
“I can help you,” Ben said quietly. “Please, Sheila, trust me. Do you think I would let them hurt you, Cowgirl?”
Cowgirl, how dare he call her that? Sheila’s fingers fumbled with the knot.
“I believe him,” Huntley said. “Ben feels real bad. He tried to help us already.”
Sheila realized it would be better to have Ben’s help than to leave him here, helpless. But if Huntley was wrong… “Sheila?” Ben pleaded. “I’ll do anything to make this up to you.”
“Oh, all right! Just hurry!” The knot started to loosen. Almost. Almost. Yes! She pulled the rope free and crouched to help Wendell with the rope around his ankles.
Wham! Wham! Wham! Fists pounded against the front door.
“Let me in right now!” Marla screamed.
“Leave me!” Wendell said. “Take Huntley and get out the back while you still can.”
The banging stopped. The rope came free. Sheila helped Wendell to his feet. Huntley had untied Ben’s wrists, and Ben bent to free his ankles. “Run!” he said. “Now!”
“Hey!” Marla shouted, her face at the window.
“Stop right there!”
Marla pulled herself up. Her head and shoulders were through the window, but she wasn’t as agile as Sheila and dropped back out of sight. She tried again, clasped the sill, boosted herself higher until the top half of her body hung inside and she teetered on the narrow windowsill.
Sheila charged at her.
“No!” Marla screamed as Sheila pushed her back outside.
“Marla?” Glen called from the front of the portable. So close.
“Sheila!” Ben called. “Get out, now!”
She turned and ran for the back door. Ben held it open. Huntley and Wendell waited outside. Sheila ran out and the door closed behind her. At the bottom of the stairs, she glanced back. Ben had stayed inside.
“Into the woods,” Sheila said, leading the way into dark shadows beneath the pines. Under shelter of the trees, they moved slowly along, now in sight of the broken window, now the front door. Glen and Marla stood on the porch. Keys jingled, the door opened. They ran inside. Voices shouted.
“Run for the fence!” Sheila said.
They scrambled out of the woods and ran across short, rugged grasses, yellow in the moonlight. As she ran, Sheila watched for a signal she hoped would be there.
Barbed wire gleamed silver in front of them.
Beyond that, a dark void. Where was Katie? Rusty?
Suddenly the air exploded with a deafening sound.
Unmistakable. A gunshot. And it came from behind them. Ben! Sheila stumbled, half turned.
“Keep going!” Wendell said.
As the noise slowly died, the air filled with another sound. Barking. At the same moment a light flashed.
On and off. On and off. The signal.
Katie and Rusty held the bottom strand of wire up.
Huntley scrambled under on his stomach. Sheila waited for Wendell, but he refused to go.
“You first,” he insisted.
Before she could object, the air exploded again.
Another gunshot split the air. “Stop where you are!”
Glen shouted.
Sheila threw herself to the ground and wriggled forward like a snake, careful to avoid the sharp barbs.
“This isn’t so easy for an old guy like me,” Wendell whispered. He creaked down to his hands and knees, and Sheila helped lift the wire a little higher as he crept beneath it. Rebel barked, excited to see his owner.
“Sit, Rebel!” Wendell commanded and the dog was quiet.
Four horses stood waiting, snorting and restless with all the excitement. “You did it!” Sheila said.
“Simple,” Rusty said.
“No problem,” Katie replied.
Sheila led Wendell to Rusty’s horse. “Can you ride?”
“Are you kiddin’? Been ridin’ since before I could walk! There’s not a horse I can’t handle.” He grabbed the saddle horn. “Might just need a boost up though,” he admitted.
While Sheila helped Wendell, Huntley boosted Katie onto the other quarter horse. He then swung up into Ingot’s saddle and Sheila boosted Rusty up behind him. Silver started moving before she was quite in the saddle.
“Get back here you rotten little kids!” Above their heads, a third shot rang out.
Fear in her belly, fear at her back, Sheila wanted to coax Silver into a full gallop. But Katie wasn’t ready for that, and even with a few streaks of light hanging over the horizon to the east, the night was still too dark to risk a gallop. So Sheila held Silver to a slow canter and stayed close beside Katie and the other two horses that moved like phantoms up the hill.
Over the muted thud of hoofbeats on grass, Sheila heard a sound that made her want to kick Silver’s sides until he put his head down and ran with the speed of light. The honk of a horn, the roar of an engine. She glanced over her shoulder. A bright glow lit the darkness below. Must be the SUV. Voices rose into the air, a man’s and a woman’s. Katie made a gasping sound, leaned low over her horse’s neck and pulled ahead of Sheila.
Silver lengthened his stride, kept pace with Katie’s horse. Hang on, Katie!
The SUV couldn’t get through the fence. Could it?
Could it? Wire cutters. All it took was a pair of wire cutters.
The engine noise increased; lights danced on high branches of the pines. Huntley and Wendell reached the trees, disappeared around a bend. Katie and Sheila followed close behind. Around the bend, out of sight. But not for long.
Lights moved toward them, in front of them.
Two bright headlights bumping up and down over the grassland. What?
“Quick! Into the trees!” Sheila cried. She led the way into the shelter of tall pines. They stopped and waited. The lights kept coming. The vehicle stopped.
The Couttses’ SUV, coming from the opposite direction, also stopped. It wheeled around and raced back toward the development. But the second vehicle didn’t follow. The lights went out.
Sheila could see it more clearly now. It was a small black Jeep. No roof. Two people in it. “Dad? You there?” a voice called. It was Ryan!
No one moved. No one breathed. Even the horses were silent.
Was Ryan in on this too? Both Ben and Ryan?
Then another voice. “We saw you go into the trees. It’s safe now, come on out.”
“Mom!” Huntley cried and led his horse out of the woods.
“What now?” Sheila whispered. Were they all in this together?
“It’s over,” Katie told her. “It’s okay. I finally figured it out.”
They dismounted and walked the horses over to join the others.
“Thank heaven you’re all right!” Adele slipped her arm around Huntley. “Ryan said you’d be out here when we discovered you missing.”
> Sheila glanced nervously at Ryan. She still couldn’t believe Ben was the guilty one.
“Have you seen my father?” Ryan asked. “I think he’s out here somewhere.”
“He’s down by the portable,” Huntley said, “or inside it. He helped us escape.”
“Well, that’s one good thing he’s done. What happened?”
Sheila and Huntley, with a few words from Wendell, explained what had happened.
“I heard a shot,” Sheila said, “after Glen got back.”
“The rest of you stay here,” Ryan said. “I’m going to find him.” He hopped in his Jeep and raced down the hill.
That was the hardest part, waiting and wondering.
Was Ben all right? Had he been shot? Where were the Couttses?
The sky grew lighter and color returned to the earth, dark green pines, light brown grass. At last Ryan’s Jeep bounded back up the hillside and stopped. Ben sat in the passenger seat, slumped forward, clutching his right arm.
“I found him outside the portable,” Ryan said. “He tried to make the Couttses follow him, but took a shot in the arm instead.”
“Where are the Couttses?” Sheila asked nervously.
“They took off. I don’t expect they’ll stop until they get home to Calgary.”
Ben looked at Sheila. “Ryan wants to take me to Emergency,” he said, “but I had to see for myself that you’re all okay. Anyway, I figure I deserve whatever happens to me, after what I did.”
“Why did you do it, Ben?” Sheila asked.
“Desperation. I figure if your dad and Adele make all this land a wildlife preserve, I’m out of a job. Not just a job, but my home too. I won’t have my farrier work to fall back on either, with my elbow getting worse all the time. And here’s Ryan needing more and more money for tuition. Thinking about it all made me crazy! Then along comes Marla Coutts and offers me a fantastic job, more money than I ever made in my life! Enough to buy my own house and pay for Ryan’s education too. I only had to do a couple of little things to help them get the land for themselves.”
“Like shoot the night watchman?” Katie asked.
Ben shook his head. “I just grazed the guy. If he hadn’t moved his arm at the last second, the shot would have whizzed past him and hit the window of the portable, like it was meant to.”