A Valley to Die For

by Radine Trees Nehring

  The gun he held was like Henry’s. She turned her eyes away—this was the gun that had killed JoAnne—but turning away didn’t help, because that’s when she saw the rifle and two beer cans on the rock near him.

  Beer cans? Was Evan drinking?

  For a moment he seemed embarrassed, as if he realized that a friendly meeting wouldn’t include two guns.

  “I’m glad you’ve come back to the Ozarks, Evan, but you’re certainly the last person I expected to see today.”

  She took off her gloves and hat to brush at her hair.

  Keep it up, she told herself. He isn’t sure of himself now. Keep him confused, off-balance. And be nice!

  “My goodness,” she said, unable to stop the quiver in her voice, “I’ve gotten rather muddy, and I’ve torn my coat, too. I’m glad the snow has quit at least. Come back to my house with me, Evan. I’d like you to see it, and I do want to change into dry clothes.”

  “Are you going to leave without your boyfriend and Susan Burke-Williams?” he asked, staring at her face. “Funny, but they thought you’d been shot. I did too until I heard you say very clearly that you were all right.”

  She attempted a laugh. “How ridiculous. We were exploring. I don’t know where they got to. Well, never mind, it won’t matter since you’re here. I’ll just leave the car keys and a note for them and we can go to my house in your car. And, the man with us isn’t my boyfriend. He’s Susan’s father.”

  Evan spoke quickly. “You said Susan’s parents were dead.”

  “Her adoptive parents. Henry is her birth father.”

  Again, he cocked his head sideways and looked at her.

  “Evan, can we go? I’m getting awfully cold. Where’s your car? I can hardly wait to show you my house.”

  Maybe I can get him away from the valley, she thought. Then Susan and Henry will be safe.

  “Were you looking at the pictographs?” Evan asked. “I found them when I was exploring here several years ago. Never told you and Amos about it, just covered the opening and walked away. They were my secret. I showed them to your friend JoAnne last week, though.”

  He shrugged. “Too bad about her tragic death. I really liked her. She was impressed by the pictographs, and also by my story that the Osage people still hold mineral rights to this land. I told her that meant even limestone rock.” He laughed. “Oh, JoAnne and I were going to stop the quarry. She enjoyed talking with a representative of the Cherokee Nation from Tahlequah, Ok-la-ho-ma!” His bottom lip drooped in a momentary pout. “She appreciated me like you never have, Carrie McCrite. She was a woman to admire!”

  Carrie struggled to hide the rage that was boiling through her whole body and ducked her head so he wouldn’t see her face. She pushed her lip out, not because she wanted to mimic Evan’s pout, but because using that gesture of defiance gave her a small bit of courage.

  His voice droned on. “JoAnne was smart... lots of fire. She listened to me, and she was so excited about surprising all of you. I was very, very sorry she had to die. She had more fire than ten of you, Carrie. Hated most men, she said. Didn’t trust them. But she trusted me.”

  He was watching her closely. “JoAnne and I would have made a good team. I saved the red cap to remember her by, then had to use it on you. Too bad you got in the way.

  “You understand that JoAnne knew too much about me and my private business. I’m sure her death bothered you. I thought it might frighten you right back to Tulsa! But still, it was too bad. I really did like that woman.”

  Evil, Carrie thought. Evil! Cold! Cold and cruel. “I liked JoAnne a lot myself,” she said, still looking at the ground.

  Evan gestured with the pistol. “Let’s go then. We have a bit of a hike. I don’t want your friends to see us, not yet.” He laughed, but his voice still sounded hard.

  “Carrie, I watched all of you together yesterday. I saw him kiss you.”

  He waved the pistol toward the beer cans. “It seems my hands are going to be busy with two guns, so you’ll have to carry those for me. We don’t want to leave them behind, though I have more stored in the cave. They’re full of explosives, you see... a little surprise.”

  She stared at the cans. Explosives? Did he mean dynamite? Then, what would happen if she picked them up and threw them straight at him... would that kill them both?

  “What’s the matter, Carrie? Frightened of a couple of beer cans? Can’t have that. Pick them up.”

  She looked at him, saw the coldness in his eyes as the pistol waved toward her, and reached out slowly to pick up the two cans. They had black tape on top and what looked like candle wicks hung over the sides. The rifle was still on the rock too. Could she... ? But Evan pulled it quickly out of her reach and, using the attached strap, slung it over his shoulder.

  He gestured. “Let’s go down the path.” His voice was mocking, almost a sing-song. “Be careful. Don’t stumble, Carrie. No telling what a shaken can of beer will do!”

  “Evan, please. What are we going to do? You’re frightening me.”

  “Yes, Carrie, I intend to. When we get down, you’re going to stand in front of the cave and convince Susan and... her father they’d better come out and join you. What happens next will depend on you. All you have to do is call them and get them to the opening. Then... I’ll have you to myself, and we’ll be ready to leave.” He laughed. “This is going very well, better than I hoped. Move faster now. We don’t want the hillbilly down the valley to bother us. He could come home any time, I suppose. We won’t have to worry about that bony hillbilly hag, though. I took care of her.”

  Carrie gasped and felt as if the breath had been knocked out of her. Dear, gentle Shirley! The baby!

  “Evan, you didn’t hurt them. You couldn’t.”

  He pouted at her again. “Oh, don’t worry. I got in the pump house and cut the electric wires to their water pump. When she came out to see what was wrong, I locked her up in there.” His voice changed to ice. “She’s... not... the enemy.”

  “The baby, Johnny!”

  “Oh, Carrie, stop fretting. You never used to fret. He’s still in the house, was asleep in his bed when I looked.”

  His voice became dreamy—far away. “All that dark hair... I touched it... soft... that’s why I didn’t shoot yesterday... didn’t want to hurt the baby. From on top of the bluff, I couldn’t be sure I wouldn’t hurt him. He was in the carrier, too close to his mother. Have to finish this whole job at one time and get away. Couldn’t risk messing up yesterday. Now, Evan Walters is going to disappear. Do you want to disappear with me, Carrie? I have enough for two.” He grinned, staring at her face, then the icy voice came back. “No? Well, bad luck.”

  The gun jerked toward the trail. “Come on, we’ve got to do this before they figure out I’m no longer up on that overhang.” He chuckled, but it was an empty, bitter sound. “This is fun—bossing Amos McCrite’s woman.”

  She whirled at him then, raising both arms, swinging the beer cans up and over her head, and hurling them toward his face with all the strength she could muster.

  She missed him completely. Evan leaned sideways—almost lazily, without losing his balance or his hold on the guns—and they missed his head by two feet.

  By the time they hit the path, Carrie had turned away, shrinking into her body, waiting for the explosion and for death.

  There was no explosion, simply a dull metallic clunk. Evan was still chuckling as she turned in astonishment to see that one of the cans had broken open, spilling a trail of black powder on the rocks. The other one was rolling harmlessly toward her.

  “Maybe you do have some fire in you after all, Carrie. That’s not bad, not bad at all. But I must teach you about explosives. This stuff won’t blow unless you light the fuse. You don’t have any matches, do you? I thought not. Pick up that can and get going. You’re wasting my time, and I won’t stand for that.”

  For a while, she moved like a robot, seeing nothing, hearing nothing. All she knew was that she was stumbling
down the bluff in the direction indicated by Evan, who touched her back every few moments with the pistol barrel.

  Then she was aware that they were crossing the creek bed in the dry area beyond the curve. Now, trees and rocks would mask them from the cave opening, and Henry and Susan couldn’t see them until Evan meant them to. She was not going to do what he wanted. She simply wouldn’t call out to them. He couldn’t make her do that. He’d have to shoot her first and that, at least, would alert Henry.

  But what good would it do to resist him? He had the explosives... the guns. She had to think, to clear her head of the rage and fear that were distorting reasoning.

  Dear God... God, help me, show me what to do.

  Now they were in the old pasture below the mouth of the cave, still shielded from sight by trees. As if led by a will other than her own, Carrie collapsed on the ground, laying the beer can aside as she fell. Her body went as limp as a rag doll’s; she would not go any farther.

  Evan swore and began yanking at her. She bit her lip to keep from crying out as rocks bounced under her and he tugged at her arms.

  Her weight must have been too much for him, because suddenly he stopped. “I’m not going to risk hurting my back again over some fool woman. You and JoAnne... too heavy. Get up.”

  Talk to him again, she thought. Get him to talk.

  “Where’s JoAnne’s coat?” she asked.

  He certainly hadn’t expected that question. “Why? Do you want to wear it? I put it down one of the sink holes on top of the bluff, together with her purse. You could see that coat from too far away. I wanted to save the special privilege of finding her for you. The woods are evil, Carrie. The only safe place is the city.”

  “I like the woods, Evan. I always have, you know that. Finding JoAnne didn’t change the way I feel. Amos’s death didn’t change it either. Their deaths had nothing to do with trees. They didn’t spoil my woods for me.”

  She was watching him carefully when she mentioned Amos.

  “Shut up,” was all he said, looking back toward Roger and Shirley’s pasture.

  She hunched over, pulling her knees up under her chin. As she started to bow her head over her knees, she was aware of movement in the distance.

  Evan had seen it too. Evidently something had broken a fence in the end pasture, or maybe Evan had cut the wire himself. A large mass of cows was moving toward them, grazing as they came, their noses brushing down through dry grass and melting snow to pull at green sprouts underneath.

  “Evan, it isn’t worth it. Please stop this. Nothing is worth killing for. These are real, living people.”

  He turned back to her, ignoring the cows. “It isn’t any different from killing a deer, Carrie. You should know that. Amos was killed like a deer, wasn’t he?”

  He paused, then showed the hideous smile again. “I even shot a deer Saturday morning. Had to play like a hunter since there were hunters in the woods. Didn’t dare arrange JoAnne on your hillside then. That’s when I saw him, just standing there. An eight-point buck. Best hunting kill I ever made. His blood covered up hers. After that, I was free. No one could touch me. I was just out hunting.”

  The cows were moving closer in a huge compact clump, and Carrie stared at them, fascinated. From her place on the ground, they looked larger than life, and they were definitely heading toward the creek. Possibly they were thirsty. As she watched them, she suddenly felt like giggling. That huge cow in the lead was getting quite close.

  “Get up,” Evan commanded. “We have important business to take care of.”

  When she continued to sit, he poked at her with the gun and said again, “Get up, now.”

  Feeling quite light-headed, she did giggle, and then laughed out loud, not even noticing that Evan’s face was growing red with anger and that he was lifting his gun to point right at her head. “Oh, Evan,” she said, gasping now with wild, out-of-control laughter, “I do like cows.”

  The large cow brushed against her, then lifted its head and mooed loudly, bellowing in her ear. Evan seemed startled and looked toward the sound for a moment. Carrie ducked her head quickly and rolled under the cow’s belly, coming to rest against a pair of heavy boots. Shirley stood up, leveled a shotgun at Evan’s head, and said, “I’d drop that gun right quick if I was you, Mister.”

  Chapter XXIII

  Instantly, a whirlwind of activity erupted from the middle of the dairy herd. Harrison Storm’s voice rose over the whirlwind, and Carrie realized there were several men in black hidden among the huge black and white cows.

  Mary Belle began to graze again, her own part of the mission completed. Carrie stayed seated on the ground near the cow with her head tucked over her knees. She could hear the soft ripping of grass and the cow’s slushy swallowing noises. She concentrated on that, trying to shut out everything else that was happening.

  Don Taylor’s voice was suddenly quite close, talking calmly to Evan. Carrie kept her eyes down and tried to close her ears, to think of anything other than this moment, this place.

  Then Shirley’s arm came around her shoulders. “He’s gone now,” was all she said as she lifted Carrie to her feet, hugging her tightly until the awful shaking stopped.

  After a few minutes of silence, Shirley asked, “Are Henry and Susan all right? Shouldn’t we go find them?”

  Carrie opened her eyes carefully and saw that Don Taylor was back, standing next to Mary Belle. His hand stroked the big cow’s neck, over and over, and his own eyes looked as gentle and soft as the cow’s.

  “Those explosive things... the beer cans,” she began, but he stopped her by raising a hand.

  “They won’t do anything now. Can you tell us where King and the niece are? Are they up in one of the caves? Are they hurt?”

  She nodded, then changed her mind and shook her head, thinking of what could have happened, and didn’t. “Henry was only slightly shot, and Susan was more-or-less bumped, but they’ll both be all right, really,” she said, and wondered why Don Taylor smiled.

  She turned to Shirley. “Johnny?”

  “He’s fine. Jason’s come to baby-sit. He’s the only one I could call in such a hurry. At least he knows which end to put a diaper on, though he’s probably fit to be tied right now, wondering what’s happening.”

  “Then,” Carrie said, feeling more like herself, “let’s go get Henry and Susan.” She looked at Taylor and pointed toward the creek bank. “I know which cave, but they can’t cross the creek here, and Henry may need some help.”

  She hesitated as her thoughts went, once more, to the day Amos had died.

  “Harrison Storm was sheriff five years ago, wasn’t he?” she asked Taylor. “I need to talk with him. He’ll have records of a hunting death, and I think Evan... ” She bit her lip and stopped, wondering how she could explain, but Taylor simply nodded and accepted her request without comment.

  She forced her thoughts back to the present. It was time to take care of those who were here now.

  “You’ll need to go meet Henry and Susan on top of the bluff,” she told Taylor. “Henry’s car is up there. The road to the top turns off just before you get to the farm house.” She handed him Henry’s key ring.

  “Deputies will get the cows headed back into your pasture,” Taylor said to Shirley. “And, if you like, they’ll give you a ride home. It’s a good thing your idea worked. I don’t know how we’d have gotten close to him otherwise. You know your cows. They’re as tame as kittens.”

  “‘Specially Mary Belle,” Shirley said, “and she’ll lead the herd back easy. The dogs would do it, but I penned them up, afraid they’d give us away. I’d like to stay with Carrie, and I don’t think she’ll want to walk clear to the house now, so I’m glad for your help. Tell someone to just head Mary Belle toward the break in the fence and the rest will follow. I put out a rope to tie across where we cut the wire. That’ll do ‘til we fix it better.”

  Carrie spoke up. “He, uh, left more of those beer can things up in the overhang cave. Hen
ry can point out where.”

  Taylor ducked his head in silent acknowledgement, then turned to Shirley again. “Guess it’s okay if I bring them both down to your house, unless, of course, we find King needs to go to the hospital.” Without waiting for an answer, he turned and headed for one of the cars that had appeared in the pasture.

  The two women started toward the creek bank. As they walked, Shirley’s arm dropped around Carrie’s shoulders.

  God bless her, Carrie thought. God bless all my friends.

  * * *

  The sun was just breaking through the clouds when Henry, with Susan holding his arm, appeared in the cave entrance in response to Carrie’s call. Evan had been right. Henry would have responded to her voice, even in the face of danger.

  “It’s finished,” she shouted. “Johnny, Shirley, and I are just fine. Don Taylor is on his way up the bluff road to meet you.”

  Carrie could see Henry’s face quite clearly, even though she’d left her glasses with Susan before she crawled away into the cave tunnels.

  He was smiling.

  She shouted again. “We’ve lots to talk about.”

  Shirley laughed out loud and then said to Carrie, “Boy, I’ll sure have some talking to do when Roger sees what I did to the wall of our pump house. I set up some work for that man, what with breaking out the pump house wall and cutting the pasture fence. Whoo-eee!”

  “I think Jason and Henry should help fix things, and I’ll help too,” Carrie responded as she watched Henry and Susan begin a slow climb toward the top of the bluff.

  Chapter XXIV

  “A rather nice Thanksgiving weekend,” Carrie said, as Henry turned to help her over the last pile of rocks. “It’s a good thing the weather is warm. I’ve ruined every heavy jacket I own. I need to go shopping.”

  Behind them several voices echoed from the pictograph cave. Everyone there seemed to be having a fine time discussing how an artist from so long ago had created drawings with soap weed brushes dipped in a slurry made of what they thought was nothing more than clay dust, pounded charcoal, and water.