Risky Alliance

by N. C. Anderson

  Tim pushed end and headed for Abby's front door. She was waiting for him and opened it just as he stretched out his hand to knock. “I wish you wouldn't do that to me, sweetheart."

  She laughed. “Sorry, Tim. But, I was expecting you."

  He told her he had to leave for the ranch. He couldn't take the chance of her being with him. “Lock everything up, Abby.” He looked at Bandit, who sat beside her, watching Tim closely. “You just keep him in here with you. No more locking him outside. Promise?"

  “If you promise to call me after you get there. I'm going to be a basket case if you don't."

  He kissed her gently, and then backed toward the door. “You have my word. You will give me a rain-check, right?"

  She was following him, and reached out her hand, brushing his cheek with her fingertips. “Of course.

  * * * *

  After two hours of watching and helping the kids pet, groom, and lead several of the babies around, Jacob found a bale of hay, and sat down. “I think these foals are the best yet, Ben. Maybe we should keep that big boy over there, and this filly Andee's brushing."

  Ben nodded. “You picked the same two I wanted to ask you about. I haven't mentioned anything because I wanted to see if you'd single them out.” He walked down the long runway in the center of the huge barn, opened a stall door and disappeared.

  “Can I name this one?” Andee asked, brushing her hair out of her eyes with the hand holding the currycomb, and leaving a streak of dirt across her forehead. “I like Marquisa Linda."

  Jacob couldn't help grinning at her. She was a mess. Her blond hair had hay sticking from it; her T-shirt had seen better days, and her arms, blotched with dirt and horsehair. “That's a perfect name.”

  He turned to look at Mike. “What about you, want to name that fella over there?"

  “El Sid,” Mike answered without hesitation. His mouth turned down. “But I want to train him, too."

  Jacob shrugged. “I'll keep that in mind, son. He'll need someone like you.” It was all he could do not to tell them the possibilities had increased one hundred percent, that they wouldn't be returning to Iowa—except for visiting relatives. He needed more reassurance himself.

  Ben's head appeared from the stall he'd entered. “We have a mare foaling, J.T. How about letting these two equestrians help me until it's over?"

  Jacob rose to his feet. “Good idea, Ben. “I'm going to the house and make a couple of calls, then I'll come help.” The kids had already put the foals away they'd been grooming and were heading toward Ben. It seemed they'd forgotten him before he'd finished his sentence.

  Lord, he thought, seeing the kids so happy, doing what they loved here, made everything else seem completely unimportant.

  When he reached the house, he lifted his briefcase from the couch in the living room and headed into the kitchen. After placing the case on the kitchen table and near the wall phone, he poured himself a cup of Ben's coffin varnish. He shook his head. He'd tried a few dozen times to teach Ben how to make coffee. “Drink it my way,” Ben would say, “or make your own.” He yawned. One thing for sure, it would wake him up.

  He would call Tim first, and then check with Carley. She might have found some new goodies by now. He was sipping the thick brew when he heard a noise behind him.

  * * * *

  Sue almost missed seeing the black vehicle. The road was pitch black between ranches. Her headlights reflected off an object behind some bushes that lined the road, and about a hundred yards from the entrance to the ranch. After stopping, she backed up, parked, took her flashlight from the glove compartment, and got out of her car.

  Cautiously, she picked her way through tall wild oats and thistles to the vehicle parked behind the bushes. It was a Ford Explorer. She shined the light in the side window. Since she could see nothing unusual she stood on tiptoe and shined it in at the rear seats. The box was there, and it wasn't empty. Not a weapon in sight.

  She hurried back to her car. Kimba Charles must be on foot and heading for the ranch. Her first thought was to race up the drive, honking her horn. But she decided on her second, which was to go in quietly, switching off her headlights.

  It didn't take long for her to park a few yards from the van and out of vision from the house. She stole silently to the van, eased open the door and pulled J.T.'s .38 revolver from its holster hooked under the front seat, along with a small pouch of bullets. Loading, she went to the front of the van.

  The yard lights illuminated everything, but the North side of the house lay in darkness, so that was where she headed. If she got lucky, no one would have turned on the lights in the back.

  She got lucky.

  Would she be able to use the weapon in her hand?

  She shouldn't have let the thought enter her mind because, now, her hand started shaking. Sue moved vigilantly, hoping that Kimba Charles hadn't decided to come the same way.

  The back steps were long and wide, leading to a verandah she hadn't seen in two years. Then she heard the voices.

  “The name wouldn't be Dent, now would it? Vinnie won't like it if you forget the good old days."

  “You'll never know. I doubt if the dead know much. They sure as hell can't talk about it. Just hand me the brief case, Campbell. Nice and slow, please."

  “Come and get it,” Jacob said. “You're the one with the gun."

  “Since that's true, do what you're told."

  Sue eased open the back door. Ben Eagle just wouldn't listen when they told him to keep the doors locked. His Indian ancestry prevented it—he always told them. Sue could not be happier that he had not changed.

  She could see them clearly, Jacob in profile, the woman aiming a gun at him. Then Jacob's body relaxed, and Sue knew he was about to do something.

  While she was taking in a deep breath and trying do decide what to do, he suddenly exploded into action and threw the briefcase at Kimba. Her gun exploded. And Jacob slumped against the counter, then slid to the floor.

  White rage raced through Sue. She shoved open the door, lifted the gun in her hand and fired at the figure that was now stooping for the briefcase.

  As she watched, the woman's body dropped, her knee hitting hard against the floor tile. The shriek and the vulgar, deep-throated oaths that followed, didn't sound a bit feminine to Sue. Balancing to keep upright on the injured leg, the woman's arm wobbled but she managed to raise the gun and point it at Sue again.

  Before Sue could react, Brandy came from nowhere. The dog threw her furry body into Kimba, knocking her forward. Following her, Tim and a man in a brown uniform burst into the kitchen. Both had their guns in hand.

  Sue made her numb lips move. “Brandy, come.” As the dog obediently left the sprawled body, more people surged in through the front door.

  “Keep the kids outside, Ben,” she yelled, returning her gaze to the body on the floor, and staring with disbelief.

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  Chapter 21

  It wasn't Kimba Charles that lay crumpled over the briefcase, and bleeding on the black-slate tiles that she and J.T. had so carefully lain. A brunette wig was now flaring out across the floor, resembling an enormous, and squashed, Tarantula spider. But Sue couldn't stop staring at the man's head.

  “L.A.,” she said. She couldn't believe she was seeing the tattoo beneath the man's ear, couldn't believe the familiar shape of that ear, the strange shaped scar that marred its outer edge. The cross brought flashes of memory, memories making her freeze to the spot when she wanted to race to Jacob. Memories her mind saw clearly of a boy wearing a stocking over his head, of Martha bleeding, and of her father falling down a flight of stairs. L.A. was what the other man had called him.

  It couldn't happen again.

  The man on the floor was looking at her. “You!” he gasped. He swallowed, trying to move, then sank back against the tile. “At least,” he whispered. “You won't haunt me anymore.” His eyes remained open as she heard the air escape from him. He didn't take another bre
ath.

  A heavy veil lifted from somewhere inside, making her feel as if light could now reach the darkened spot. It seemed so very strange—

  Tim's voice came through to her as he took the gun from her hand. “Snap out of it, Sue. You did great, now grab a clean towel from somewhere, and help J.T."

  To her own amazement, she did snap out of it, immediately. She rushed to the cabinets, opened the lowest drawer a few inches from J.T., and grabbed a handful of soft, clean dishtowels. She turned slightly, dropping to her knees beside him. Looking at him scared her to death.

  He had his hand clamped to his side, where blood covered his fingers. His color had turned a muted gray under his tanned skin. But, his eyes were bright, alert and looking into hers.

  “You,” he whispered, “are something else.” His good hand reached out. “Give me the towels and I'll hold them."

  “Don't you think we should put them under the shirt?” The blood covered the front of his western-cut shirt. The thought of losing him made her fight a mounting hysteria that threatened to suffocate her as she helped him get the towels under his hand.

  “Get a doctor,” she yelled at Tim. “Damn it, can't you see he's bleeding—” His very life was oozing between her fingers. They planned to celebrate tomorrow. She planned to tell the kids that their mother would never, ever, jeopardize the family again. Letting go of Jacob, she grabbed more towels and tucked them under his hand too.

  “Chopper'll be here any minute,” Tim interrupted, coming to kneel beside her. “Take it easy, girl. Help is on the way."

  Sue placed her hand over J.T.'s, helping him to put pressure on his wound. Right, take it easy. How the hell could she take it easy? J.T.'s love and patience with her and her faults were wondrous. He couldn't leave her now. She had so much love to give him—so much to make up for.

  “God, Babe, I'm sorry,” Jacob breathed out.

  His hand went limb under Sue's and she increased her pressure. “Don't you dare leave me, J.T. Campbell,” she hissed. “I love you."

  “Say it again,” he murmured. “Sounds so damned sweet."

  Leaning forward, she brushed his black hair from his forehead. “I've always loved you. But, you knew that."

  “How did you know, L.A.,” he asked, his eyes still closed, his voice so weak she barely heard him.

  “Later,” she said. “We'll talk when you aren't hurting.”

  “Now, please."

  “He was there when my father got hurt that day. I saw the tattoo under his ear, his scarred ear. But, I have to be wrong. It couldn't possibly be the same person.” She paused. “But, how would you know about L.A.?”

  “Yes it could be the same guy,” he mumbled. Jacob tried to smile, but it turned into a grimace. “Later. When it's easier—"

  “It's nice to know I get to be right once in a while. About time you listened to me,” she said. His nod was barely perceptible, and she started praying.

  Tim patted her shoulder. “I hear the chopper. I'm going to meet them."

  When she looked toward the living room, she saw Mike and Andee watching her from the archway separating the big rooms. They looked terrified. She knew how that felt. “He'll be okay,” she said, her mind repeating the words a mile a minute. “Ben will bring you down to the hospital.” She cleared her aching throat. “You can be with him, too.” They'd best have room for her in the chopper, because, she wasn't letting him out of her sight.

  It wasn't easy for her to relinquish her place when the paramedic insisted. She watched them place oxygen over his face, watched them remove his shirt and wipe away much of the blood.

  “Took a chunk out of his side,” one said. “Doesn't look like it's too deep.”

  “So far,” the other one said, “it looks like he's a lucky man.” He brought the lift closer. “Let's move."

  Sue followed them through the front door, stopping beside Ben Eagle. Mike and Andee had disappeared. “You'll bring the kids?"

  “They're already in the truck,” he said. “Good to have you home,” he added as he moved away.

  Never was one for lots of words, Sue thought, smiling through her tears. But Ben Eagle was always there, and always full of wisdom when he did talk.

  * * * *

  With Andee's head resting on her shoulder and Mike's propped on her lap, Sue watched the nurses going back and forth past the waiting room door. She glanced at her watch. J.T. had been in surgery for an hour. It seemed like days.

  “Have you heard anything?” Tim asked as he entered the room with Abby walking beside him.

  “Nothing yet,” she said, wanting to rise and hug Abby, but the sleeping kids kept her in place. “Come sit over here, Abby."

  “We've done this before,” Abby said, her voice breaking. She looked nervous, pale.

  Sue reached forward and touched Abby's hand, waking Andee, who sat up, blinking. “It's not going to be the same, Abby. I'm not going anywhere. Not now, not ever."

  “Are you serious, Mom?” Mike sat up.

  “I couldn't be more serious."

  Andee just stared at her mother.

  “I think you've found the off button for our chatterbox,” Abby said. “Jacob know?"

  Sue hugged Andee. “I'm not sure, but I plan to make certain that he does the minute he opens his eyes.” And, he would open his eyes. He had to.

  Andee looked at Mike. “We didn't even need the cookout,” she mumbled, looking dazed.

  Before Sue could ask what that meant, the doctor, wearing gray surgery clothing, stepped into the room. “Mrs. Campbell."

  Sue rose to her feet, feeling Abby come to stand beside her. “How is he?"

  “Asking for you.” He looked at his watch. “You can visit him—” he looked around the room—"two at a time, ten minutes each. Except for you,” he said to Sue. “I don't think he'll allow you to leave.” Pulling the gray hat from his head, he added, “The bullet carved a mighty hole, but it was clean and hit no vital organs. I'd say Jacob will be in pain a few days. If no infection sets in, he might get home by the middle of next week."

  The audible signs were nearly countable. Sue took Abby's hand, and nodded at the doctor. “I can take two with me to visit him?"

  “Two,” the doctor confirmed. “Room 220. He should be completely settled in there by now."

  Sue didn't wait to hear him say any more. “Come on, Abby. Which one of you kids wants to be first? Or, would you rather Tim went, and the two of you go together?"

  “Take, Mr. Benson,” Mike said, looking at Andee. “That okay with you?"

  Andee backed up and sat back on the waiting room couch. “Yes."

  As they started for the elevator, Sue asked, “Tim, what happened to the man you had shadowing me? I left him asleep in front of the agency yesterday. I figured he would have let you know I'd ditched him—though I hadn't meant to, I just didn't feel like disturbing him."

  Tim flushed. “I didn't have anyone keeping you company, Sue. I slipped up, cause I certainly should have. You could have been killed, girl. Then how would I've handled that!"

  Before she could respond, Tim's cell phone rang from inside his pocket. “Benson, here,” he said.

  Sue couldn't remember ever seeing so many different expressions cross any ones face before. The last one appeared to be gleeful.

  “J.T. will love hearing this,” Tim said. “Maybe it'll take away some of his pain.” He went on, explaining to the caller what had happened at the ranch, and finally finished when they reached Jacob's room.

  Relief, pure and simple, was what she felt when she saw him. The only tube running to him was an IV. Sue let Abby approach him first, hanging back. But he was looking at her and no one else.

  Abby kissed his cheek. “Thank, God, you're with us,” she said, tears slipping from her eyes.

  “Almost good as new,” Jacob said huskily. His throat hurt from anesthetic and tubes. They were all a welcome sight. Love was a splendid thing. “You okay, Mom?"

  “I am now,” she said brightly.
She patted Tim's arm. “I think Tim has something to tell you. He acts like his seams are ready to burst."

  “I noticed,” Jacob said. “You look like the cat that ate the canary, buddy. What's up?"

  Tim pulled up a chair beside the bed. “MacBean just called. You didn't know it, but I got a call from Manning in Iowa. He faxed me a photo of the guy who rented the car. The car with the bloody sheet.” He leaned forward. “Sue told MacBean she saw the guy from the airport at the same government office as Kimba Charles. So, I sent him there first with the photo. Everyone there knew him as Clinton Williams, he no longer worked there. MacBean took a couple of officers to William's condo to question him.” Tim sat back, folding his hands as if to control the glee. “They found him with his pants down, J.T.. Literally. They also found Kimba Charles in his bed. William's started talking practically before MacBean could identify himself and tell him what he wanted. William's wants a deal. No prosecution, and he'll tell all the names of hired buyers, he'll tell what documents Kimba Charles falsified so they could steal property using the agency—that obviously didn't give a damn as long as she collected money.” He brushed his hand through his short cropped hair. “Hot damn, J.T., I've always wanted to get at them people for thieving. Now, it looks like were gonna get us at least one."

  Jacob shook his head slowly. “Too embarrassing for the wrong people. They'll protect her, Tim. They'll have a Washington lawyer come, put the judge in his or her pocket, and Mrs. Charles will walk.” He sighed. “They never get it that most of us would like them to admit a wrong and then fix the damned thing. You'd think they wouldn't have any more carpet left to sweep something under."

  “We have proof that Keats Charles handled the legal stuff for them. He bugged houses, and knew exactly how to play the poor scared victims. We have proof that he murdered Robert. Hell, the bloody shoes, Robert's sweat shirt, and Dottie's missing black dress were all in his car.”

  “He's dead, so at least you got one. You have proof that Williams tried to kill Karen Orr. He's the only one left that you might get. If you're lucky, the agency won't think him that big of an aggravation. If you're not, you won't get him either."