Of course, his first impression was probably jaded by the stories Red had told him. About what kind of man John Savage was, and the vile things he’d done.
Even if he didn’t have any friends to come to his aid, though, he might have hired guns. And those hired guns might feel a need to protect the hand which fed them.
But they couldn’t rush the place if they couldn’t see inside. The sun was starting to set. It would soon be dark, and that meant the generator would have to be cranked up to run the house’s lights.
It was imperative that the curtains be drawn to make… whatever actions Red decided to take on this particular evening… safe from prying eyes.
It was while Jacob walked through a regal dining room that he saw something terribly out of place on the room’s mantle.
It was nestled between two silver candelabras and beneath a painting by Renoir. In any house it would have been an odd piece indeed. Here, in what most in the county would consider a mansion, it was even more so.
Made of metal that was once a brilliant yellow, it was now mostly charred a hideous black. The raised letters on the body survived the fire, and still read “TONKA,” but the toy truck’s plastic tires had melted away.
Only two wiry steel axles stood testament that the tires had once been there.
Jacob almost passed it by. But something he didn’t understand made him pick it up and take it with him for the rest of his rounds.
Curiosity, maybe. For he knew there was a story behind the artifact and how it came to be where it was.
Or maybe he felt it had a kinship to Red in some form or fashion.
He carried the toy truck in his left hand as he finished his rounds of the house and returned to the living room.
The room where John Savage sat on a Victorian love seat, hands tied behind his back, sweating and muttering profusely.
And where Red sat across from him in an oak rocking chair, her handgun on her lap and pointed in his general direction.
Both their heads turned when Jacob walked into the room.
Both sets of eyes spotted the object in his hand at about the same time.
But their reactions to the charred toy couldn’t possibly have been more different.
Savage, already soaked in sweat and looking as though he was having a heart attack, turned almost pure white.
He’d been mumbling almost incoherently. But now he managed to get three very intelligible words out: “Oh, dear God.”
Red’s jaw dropped and her eyes widened.
And she began to cry.
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Savage closed his eyes and froze.
He was not a praying man, and he hadn’t exactly led a good Christian life.
But silently he prayed.
As the old saying goes, there are no atheists in foxholes.
Or sitting in the electric chair for that matter either.
Savage was sure that Red was going to fire a bullet into his head.
But something happened to her.
The panic attack she’d suffered a bit earlier was a precursor to something worse.
Something much worse.
Jacob had handed her what was left of little Rusty’s truck.
It was the first time she’d seen it since the night he died.
She’d laughed as he filled it full of rolled up socks and rolled it across the living room floor.
It was the last time she ever saw her young son.
For moments later she’d walked onto her back porch.
And moments after that her house blew up and sent an unconscious Red flying into the yard.
This charred and twisted piece of metal she now held in her hands was the very last thing Rusty had ever touched.
And the sight of it did something to her.
Jacob looked at both of them and finally put two and two together.
He hadn’t realized the significance of the artifact. Had merely picked it up to ask Savage why in the world it was there. To poke fun at him for collecting such an insignificant piece of junk.
Now he could see how the burned toy had affected his friend and was sorry he’d found it.
He finally saw it for what it was.
A souvenir of Savage’s dastardly deed.
A trophy to commemorate the murders of two innocent people.
Almost three.
Red stared at the charred remnant of the toy truck.
But she no longer saw it.
Her mind was in another place.
It had gone there for its own self-preservation. For to remain at its present place was too painful.
Red stared blankly at the toy, her mouth half open. Drool started running down her chin, but she didn’t care.
She wasn’t even aware of it.
Jacob tried to take the toy away from her but her grip was too tight. He tried to soothe her. Sat beside her. Spoke to her tenderly.
She didn’t respond.
He wrapped his arms around her and held her close to him.
He’d wanted to embrace her in such a way since the day they met.
But not under these circumstances.
Jacob was barely a man, but was wise beyond his years.
He sensed something dreadful had happened. He didn’t understand it. But it was left to him to deal with it.
He looked at Savage, who by now had opened his eyes and was staring in wonder at the woman seated across from him.
They began to rock, the two of them. Jacob with Red in his arms. It wasn’t Jacob who’d initiated it. It was Red.
Jacob was aware her mind was in another place. He hadn’t a clue what she was thinking at that moment. Perhaps she was rocking because it comforted her a bit.
Perhaps wherever she was, little Rusty was with her. Perhaps she was rocking her son.
Whatever the reason, if Red wanted to rock back and forth, Jacob would certainly do it with her.
Savage watched them, puzzled. It wasn’t lost on him that he’d just been spared an almost certain death.
He was sweating profusely and had tears rolling down both cheeks, yet was totally silent. Unable to say anything. Unwilling to say anything. Too afraid to say anything.
Savage’s tears weren’t borne of empathy or compassion for the young mother before him who was now childless. No, the tears came from the fear he’d felt. From being convinced he was about to die.
Now the tears stopped flowing and were slowly drying.
He was starting to realize he might live a little longer.
But he knew better than to say anything.
Jacob sensed that Red was in big trouble. She’d lost her mental capacity. He didn’t know how deep the damage or how long it would last. And he wasn’t sure how to best help her. But he was willing to do whatever it took.
As for Savage, he’d suddenly become irrelevant.
He looked at the quivering man, angry enough to strangle him with his bare hands.
It would only take a minute to do so. And Red would never have to lay eyes on him again.
But that would deprive her the pleasure of exacting her revenge on the man. And he wouldn’t deny her that particular deed.
Jacob untied Savage’s hands and barked, “Go on, you slimy bastard. Get out of here.”
Savage looked at him, puzzled. He was so sure he was going to die his mind just couldn’t comprehend another possibility.
“Go on. You’re getting a reprieve. Consider it temporary. This isn’t over yet.”
Savage eased himself up from the chair and backed all the way to the front door.
He was sure it was a trick. That as soon as he turned his back on the young cowboy he’d be shot down like the animal he was.
If he’d known Jacob better he’d have known Jacob wasn’t that way. Shooting a man in the back was a dirty trick practiced by Savage and other men of his ilk. Jacob would never have entertained such a tactic.
Outside the bank and into the sweet air of freedom, Savage ran as fast as his out-of-shape le
gs would carry him, down Main Street toward his bank.
A small crowd had gathered by that time, expecting to hear Red’s gunshots coming from his house at any moment.
Seeing Savage, running as fast as he could and risking a coronary, was the last thing they expected to see.
-34-
Once Savage was gone Jacob went to one knee in front of his friend.
“Red, look at me.”
Her gaze was fixated on the toy she held in her hands.
He lifted her chin. She offered no resistance, but even when looking directly into her eyes he saw no sign of recognition. No indication she had a clue where she was.
Or who he was.
What he saw in place of recognition was confusion and fear. The latter was something he thought he’d never see from her.
He tried to take the truck away from her, but she seemed to have a death grip on it. He noticed for the first time her hands were trembling.
He tenderly took her by the elbow and coaxed her to stand.
“Red, honey… we need to get out of here. We need to go see Lilly and Beth. So help me God, I want to help you get through this.
“I just don’t know how.”
She cradled the truck in her arms as she did with Rusty when he was but a tiny baby.
Jacob couldn’t say for sure, because he was in full panic mode. But he thought he saw her rock it just a bit.
He led her slowly out the door, leaving it wide open and not caring.
Down the steps they went, and by the time they were back on Main Street they were joined by several others.
Nobody had ever had to lead Red Poston anywhere before. To see Jacob holding her elbow and guiding her was troublesome indeed.
This certainly wasn’t what anyone expected to see. It was perhaps a bigger surprise than seeing John Savage escape unharmed from the structure and high-tailing it down the street a few minutes before.
Mrs. Jared asked, “What’s wrong with her?”
“I don’t know, ma’am. I think she’s having some sort of meltdown.”
Red suddenly spoke, startling all of them.
It wasn’t much. She was merely repeating one of Jacob’s words, as though she was puzzled by it:
“Melt…down…”
Tad appeared out of nowhere. Jacob didn’t know him, but recognized him from the bank. Even though he apparently worked for Savage, Red had spoken to him as though they’d been old friends.
“Please,” Jacob appealed to him. “Run ahead to Red’s house and let them know we’re coming.”
The walk to Red’s house was agonizingly slow. The crowd started to build, and had way more questions than Jacob had answers.
The general consensus was that whatever happened, it was Savage’s fault.
With every step they took the group grew more and more angry.
More and more by the minute they were resembling a lynch mob.
Red, for her part, seemed blissfully unaware of the turmoil surrounding her. Old friends, well intentioned and desperately wanting to help, stepped alongside her one or two at a time. They touched her arm or her shoulder. They asked what they could do to help her. They asked her what was wrong.
She only responded once during the entire ordeal. When old Mrs. Rigsby, the town’s matriarch, asked if the truck belonged to little Rusty. At the sound of Rusty’s name Red lifted her chin and looked at the old woman but said nothing.
By the time they were at Red’s childhood home and the house she returned to after Russell and Rusty died, Beth and Lilly were in the yard waiting for her.
Lilly wrapped her arms about her, assuming that if Red recognized no one else, surely she’d recognize her.
But she got the same blank stare everyone else did.
Jacob dropped off, seemingly sensing the women were better equipped to handle this particular situation than he was.
Beth led Red through the doorway, and Lilly appealed to the others, “Please. Let’s give her some privacy.”
Most in the crowd complied. Three of the more hardheaded women forced their way in, feeling they could do more good inside than out.
Those who didn’t enter the house retreated to the yard, where they chatted and worried and vowed to hold vigil over their friend.
A group of men separated from the crowd and talked conspiratorially in hushed tones.
It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure they were trying to gin up a vigilante squad to punish Savage for this latest affront.
Jacob didn’t know beans about how to help people deal with emotional problems or stressful situations. Some might consider his views on the subject old fashioned, others might consider it sexist. But Jacob firmly believed women were better equipped to handle all matters of the heart.
And that included the emotions that came with them.
There were some things women were just better at, in his view. After all, they were more compassionate and he for one would rather have a caring woman tend to him when he was at his worst than a clumsy man.
Men, on the other hand, were better suited for other more manly things.
Like standing guard, for example.
The one way he knew of to help Red was to pray for her. As a boy he’d memorized the 91st Psalm, and had prayed it thousands of times over the years to help protect those he cared about.
He closed his eyes and prayed the psalm, then asked God to heal his friend.
Then he took a position of parade rest in front of the door and became a human barricade.
A few minutes later a wiry little man hauled ass up the street and the walk, then took the steps two at a time.
“I need to see Red. I’m a doctor.”
Jacob eyed him warily, then asked, “What’s your name?”
“Doctor Ramon Munoz.”
“The same Doctor Munoz who injected Zarzapine into Butch Poston?”
Munoz stammered and started to turn pale, wondering how in the world this stranger knew about Butch Poston’s murder.
“I’m going to be generous and give you one minute to disappear from my view,” Jacob said. “After that I’m going to use you for target practice.”
Munoz was out of sight in half that time, headed toward the bank.
-35-
Two very odd things happened in the days following Red’s breakdown.
Actually, two separate vigils, with two distinctly different purposes.
A small group of men stood watch outside Savage’s bank with baseball bats and ropes. The group varied in number from as few as three men to as many as ten.
They never approached the bank or caused any ruckus. But their message was clear: if John Savage ventured outside the safety of his bank, it wouldn’t bode well for him.
The other vigil took place on the front lawn of Butch Poston’s house, now occupied by Red and her friends Lilly, Beth and Jacob.
They came and went throughout the day and night. Red’s friends and neighbors, the people she went to school with. The Poston house had become the new place in town for people to congregate, commiserate and share idle gossip. The porch swing was always occupied, and several people brought lawn chairs and blankets to sit in on the lawn.
On the grass outside Red’s window someone had posted a hand-made sign which read
WE LOVE YOU RED
GET BETTER
In her upstairs bedroom, Red was still spending most of her time in bed.
When she had to get up to use the bathroom Lilly was at her side, helping to steady her.
She was taking her meals at a small bedside table, but still not saying much. Her thoughts and feelings were her own.
When she was in bed she mostly stared off into space, despite the best efforts of her friends to stimulate her in various ways. The charred toy truck occupied space beside her, and she clutched a small brown teddy bear as though the world was trying to take it away from her.
It was Rusty’s bear, kept at Butch’s house for the nights Rusty stayed overnight wit
h his grandpa. Now it became a constant companion of his mom, who once swore to Lilly it still smelled like the little boy.
By the third day after she’d first laid eyes on the truck she was getting a bit better, in that she glanced around several times during the day to survey the scene around her. She smiled at Lilly once and mouthed the words, “thank you,” though no sound came from her lips.
After she went to sleep, her friends congregated downstairs to discuss their treatment options.
Beth was an old woman who’d grown up and lived most of her life under the care of good doctors. She was adamant the group seek medical care.
“There must be something he can do. Something he can give her.”
The problem was the “he” she was referring to was none other than Doctor Munoz.
And she was outvoted by Lilly and Jacob.
“No way,” Jacob had said. “Red said he was caught up in her father’s murder. She never said how. But I believe he was the one who poisoned him. I mean, logically, who else would have access to it? If we let him come in here he could give her anything he wanted, and say it was medication, and we wouldn’t know any better until she stopped breathing.”
Lilly bolstered his argument.
“I’ve known him for years. He’s always been a snake in the grass. And he’s been on Savage’s payroll for a long time. It doesn’t surprise me that he was involved in Butch’s murder, and if wants access to Red he’ll have to climb over my dead body to get there.”
“So how do we treat her then?”
“The same way we’ve been treating her. With love and patience. Time will help, I’m sure. And knowing she’s surrounded by people who care for her and want to protect her will too.”
The day before they’d started letting her friends and neighbors in, one or two at a time, to sit at Red’s bedside for a few minutes. They wanted to show her it wasn’t just the three of them who supported her.
Word got around and even her friend Luke, the one most of the town just called “the naked guy,” came to call as well.
Luke seldom came into the town proper, but did in this case. And even the spectacle of a naked old man, sitting at her bedside and holding her hand, didn’t bring Red out of her internal prison. If it had, she’d have laughed at the thought of Luke boldly walking into the midst of the town’s biddies who constantly talked bad about him.
No Help From Austin: Red: Book 5 Page 11