A Good Samaritan

by Jesse Jacobson

  “What about you?” Kujo inquired. “The FBI will not support or condone vigilante action. You are a convicted felon. You’ll go back to prison.”

  “It is my problem, not yours,” Rainhorse argued. “Now go, please. You have very little time.”

  Kujo sighed, then nodded, “Take care, Rainhorse. You’re a good man. Take good care of Lindsay and that godson of yours. Tell Neha I said hello. Call me if you need me.”

  Rainhorse nodded. He scratched Six on the ear before they left. He then walked over to Lindsay who was holding her young son as the boy drank more water. The boy was drifting off to sleep.

  “How is he?” Rainhorse asked.

  “He’s exhausted and hungry, maybe a little dehydrated,” Lindsay replied, “but I think he’s going to be fine. Thank god.”

  “The medical team will look him over,” Rainhorse indicated. “They’ll take him to the hospital and do a full workup.”

  “You did it, Jackson,” Lindsay praised. “You saved him. You said you would, and you did. I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “We’re family, Lindsay,” Rainhorse said. “No thanks are necessary.”

  “Would you like to hold him?” she asked. “He is your godson, after all. I named him after you.”

  “I’ll hold him when he’s better. He needs his mother right now,” Rainhorse said. He raised his head as if looking at the ceiling. “Listen.”

  “What?” Lindsay replied.

  “Helicopter blades. The FBI is on their way.”

  “Don’t you worry,” Lindsay remarked. “I’ll get you the best lawyer team in the country. We’ll fight . . .”

  “I’m not staying, Lindsay,” he interrupted. “I have to go . . . now.”

  “What? What do you mean, go? We have Jackie. You saved my son. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “The FBI will not see it that way.”

  “Stay with me. We’ll fight this together. Don’t run,” Lindsay implored

  “I’m not running away. This job isn’t done. I have to find Hank Rattling Thunder. I have to bring him to justice.”

  “The FBI can . . .”

  “No, they cannot,” he interrupted again. “The res is Rattling Thunder’s home turf. He knows every inch of it, and it is over ten thousand square miles. The FBI would be out of their element here. The people on the res hate HRT but they hate the FBI even more. There are people who will help him hide.”

  “So, you’re just going to leave me again, just like that?” Lindsay asked.

  “No, I am going to get the animal who took your son, and I will make him pay for what he has done,” he said. “When it is over, I will be back, and we will talk about that lawyer.”

  “What about Neha?”

  “She is staying with your friend, Ska,” he informed. “Find her. Tell her I will come back for her . . . after.”

  Lindsay sighed, “I will. Please be careful.”

  Rainhorse nodded. He kissed Lindsay on the forehead and stroked Jackie’s wispy black hair.

  “He is a beautiful boy.”

  Lindsay forced a smile, “You come back to me.”

  He nodded, stood and walked away.

  “Jackson?” Lindsay called after.

  Rainhorse turned.

  “I love you, Jackson.”

  He smiled and nodded, “I love you too, both of you.”

  Chapter 15

  The next few hours went by in a blur. When Andrews and the FBI SWAT Team arrived, they swooped her and Jackie up, rushing them to the hospital.

  After two hours of examination, fluids, monitoring, imaging and bloodwork, Jackie was pronounced healthy. Matty, on the other hand, remained in a coma. There was no change.

  The hospital staff moved a bed into Matty’s room, so Jackie could remain in observation for a few hours and Lindsay could sit with them both. Summer Rose had come in to sit with them so Lindsay could try to get some sleep in the chair. She was unable to, however.

  The FBI scoured the Crow Foot barn and the surrounding area.

  Lindsay held her breath wondering if Kujo and Rainhorse escaped without detection. She would get her answer when Agent Andrews entered Matty’s room, where Lindsay and Summer Rose sat.

  “Lindsay,” Andrews began, “I need to ask you some questions. Do you think Ms. Red Feather can sit with Jackie and Matty for a few minutes while we talk?”

  She looked at Summer Rose, who smiled and nodded. Lindsay stood and followed the two agents out of the room into the waiting area. There were only two other visitors in the waiting area, and they were on the other side of the room, out of earshot.

  “How are you?” Andrews asked.

  “Exhausted,” Lindsay admitted. “I need sleep.”

  “I’ll try not to keep you too long, then,” he promised.

  “I appreciate it,” Lindsay said.

  “Lindsay, we know you had the help of . . . a good Samaritan last night,” Andrews said.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” Lindsay replied.

  “Let’s cut through the crap, Lindsay. The clock is ticking, here. I know Rainhorse is alive and is also our good Samaritan,” Andrews said. “Right now, I’m the only one who knows it. Everyone else thinks he’s dead. You and I know better.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lindsay lied. “Rainhorse is dead. You’re the one who told me he was killed.”

  “You can cut the act, Lindsay. Rainhorse himself called me to give me your location.”

  Lindsay studied Andrews’s face, “Why are you asking, then?”

  “You may or may not believe this, Lindsay, but I like Rainhorse, too, but he killed several men last night and beat another so badly he’s in traction. This is not going to disappear without a full-blown investigation. Now he’s on the run, which makes him look even more guilty. I want to help Rainhorse, but you have to help me help him.”

  “Those dead men kidnapped and held my son in a barn, Jim,” Lindsay hissed. “In . . . a . . . barn. They buried him under a floorboard. They were going to cut off his air supply when they got my mom’s money. I don’t give a rat’s ass about them.”

  “And I don’t blame you for that . . .”

  “Jackson got him back for me safe and sound in four hours, Jim,” Lindsay fumed. “The FBI didn’t even have a lead and Jackson swooped in from nowhere and saved me from being killed by Henry Dancing Bear. He then found out where Jackie was being held and saved my son. He did all of that . . . not the FBI. Now you want me to turn him over to you? To hell with that.”

  “Keep your voice down, Lindsay, I’m on your side,” Andrews informed. “I know your son is alive and well and safely back with you because of Rainhorse, but the law is the law and the law will not allow vigilantism from anyone, not even in extreme cases such as this. If you can help me find him, maybe I can mitigate some of the damage.”

  “Bullshit,” Lindsay scoffed. “You’re going to put him back in prison. I can’t have that. I won’t stand for it.”

  “Lindsay, there are very special circumstances here,” Andrews asserted. “The relationship between yourself and Rainhorse; the fact HRT tried to kill Rainhorse and Neha in Yemen; Jackie’s kidnapping; the fact HRT tried to kill Matty and Red, and then you . . . so many things would work with a judge in his favor, but . . .”

  “But what?”

  “He’s breaking the law. I need to bring him in now, before he does more damage.”

  “I can’t help you,” Lindsay said.

  “You and I both know he’s going after Rattling Thunder.”

  “And I hope he kills the bastard.”

  “If he finds Hank Rattling Thunder, only two things can happen, and both of them are bad for him. He can kill Rattling Thunder and who knows how many more people while trying. Lethal revenge will not help his cause, I promise.”

  “You said two things,” Lindsay reminded. “What’s the other thing?”

  “Hank Rattling Thunder kills him . . . or more likely, has him kill
ed,” Andrews said. He paused before continuing to allow what he said to sink in with Lindsay.

  “Hank Rattling Thunder will die at Jackson’s hands,” Lindsay said.

  “I doubt it, I really do,” Andrews replied. “When I figured out it was Rainhorse who saved you from Henry Dancing Bear, I made some calls. I wondered how it was that Rainhorse got away from the attempt on his life. Just an hour ago our investigation picked up something you should know.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Hank Rattling Thunder hired an assassin to try to kill Rainhorse in Yemen, a ruthless, brutal killer named Aden Al Wasabi. Wasabi took the job a little too lightly and lost several of his best men . . . including his own son, Samir. The death of his son threw Aden Al Wasabi into a rage.”

  “So what? You want me to cry about that?” Lindsay jeered.

  “Let me finish,” Andrews pleaded. “HRT is not the only one who wants Rainhorse dead, now. Aden Al Wasabi wants revenge for his son. We know he is in the States, we just don’t know where, and he’s brought help—serious help.”

  “What kind of help?” Lindsay asked.

  “The deadliest kind,” Andrews explained. “Wasabi has hired a Yemeni assassin named Aretas—a real badass. When Rainhorse dropped out of the picture Aretas assumed the mantle of the most dangerous assassin in the world. His reputation is that he has the same level of competence and expertise as Rainhorse but with two big differences.”

  “I’m listening,” Lindsay assured.

  “Rainhorse had his own set of standards, scruples if you will. No women or children . . . no innocents. By contrast, Aretas has no scruples whatsoever, no conscience. Aretas once blew up a hospital to get his mark. He also blew up a Yemeni high school, killing a hundred and twelve students . . . all to kill one man, who was posing as a math teacher.”

  “Go on.”

  “When he can isolate his mark, Aretas prefers killing them with his bare hands or a silver dagger, because the killing gives him such pleasure. Aretas is a man of pure, unadulterated evil, Lindsay, and we think he’ll soon be in Ft. Peck, if he’s not already here.”

  “And the second difference? You said there were two.”

  “Aretas is thirty years old,” Andrews declared. “Rainhorse is well over fifty and hasn’t practiced his craft in many years. Father time catches up with us all. And then, there’s always the element of surprise.”

  “Jesus,” Lindsay exclaimed. “Jackson has no idea this man is coming for him?”

  “I’m not sure Rainhorse knows the man exists,” Andrews said, “but Aretas sure knows about him. There’s more on the line than Rainhorse going back to prison, Lindsay. Aretas might very well kill him, and who knows how many innocent dead bodies he’ll leave in his wake? I need to talk to Rainhorse . . . now.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Lindsay asked.

  “Can you reach him?”

  She shook her head, “No, I swear.”

  “Lindsay . . .”

  “Jackson knows if I know where he is, I’d go after him. I have a long history of it. I don’t know how to reach him, and I don’t know where he is. I just know he’s going after Hank Rattling Thunder.”

  Andrews sighed, “Ok, I believe you. I have to go, now. If you hear from him, you have to put me in touch with him. His life may depend upon it.”

  Lindsay nodded. Andrews turned and left, heading toward the elevator. Lindsay saw him push the down button and heard the door chime to open.

  “Jim?” Lindsay called.

  Andrews turned back toward her, “Yes?”

  “Neha Littlebird may know how to reach him,” she offered.

  “Rainhorse’s wife?”

  She nodded, “I know where she is.”

  Chapter 16

  Chapa Tokoda pushed her grocery cart to the rear of the fifteen-year-old Jeep Cherokee. She opened the rear tail gate and unloaded her groceries from the cart to the SUV. She slammed the SUV door closed and dutifully rolled the cart to the cage in the parking lot.

  She fished her keys out of her purse and opened the driver’s side door and slipped inside. She slid the keys into the ignition and started the vehicle. The Jeep rumbled to life momentarily and stalled.

  “Dammit!” she exclaimed to herself.

  “You need to press down on the accelerator and give it more gas when you start it,” came a deep voice from behind her.

  “Shit!” Chapa screamed and jerked, instinctively looking into the rear-view mirror. “What the hell?”

  A large figure, who’d been hiding in the back seat, sat up.

  “Oh . . . my . . . god!” she exclaimed.

  “I see you remember me?” the large man said, reaching behind her and locking the driver’s side door.

  “Rainhorse,” she gasped. “You’re Rainhorse.”

  “I’m glad I left an impression,” he said. “Hand me your keys, please.”

  “They told me you were dead,” Chapa rasped, breathing heavily from being startled. She handed Rainhorse the car keys.

  “Who are ‘they?’” Rainhorse asked.

  “Uh . . . uh . . . nobody,” she insisted. “I mean . . . I heard . . . you know.”

  “Relax, Chapa, breathe,” Rainhorse encouraged. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

  “Really?” Chapa wheezed, tears now rolling down her cheeks.

  “Yes, really. I just need a little of your time. I need to know where Hank and Rose Rattling Thunder are.”

  During the time Rainhorse was breaking up the drug, sex trade and gambling organization of Hank Rattling Thunder and Tony Apollo, HRT had a sidekick named Joey Takoda, Chapa’s father. Chapa and her twin sister, Chumani, were only sixteen at the time.

  Joey Takoda, currently five years into a twenty-year sentence in prison, hosted a high-stakes poker game for the high rollers at his ranch on the res. While Joey provided the venue, it was Rose Rattling Thunder who ran the game, and she was quite fond of Chapa and Chumani, who both called her Auntie Rose. During the mid-evening poker breaks, Rose used to hang out with the twin girls in the barn, play R&B on the radio, smoke cigarettes and have some girl talk.

  Rainhorse believed once Rose was released from prison, she’d be in contact with her two adopted nieces. When Chapa slipped and said, “They told me you were dead,” Rainhorse knew he was right. Chapa had been speaking to Rose.

  “I don’t know where they are,” Chapa proclaimed.

  “Wrong answer,” Rainhorse said.

  “It’s true.”

  “How is your sister, Chumani?” Rainhorse asked.

  “My sister? Leave her out of this,” Chapa demanded.

  “She married a big shot from the casino and has two kids, right? Lives in a big house in Nashua, I hear,” Rainhorse continued. “It would be a shame for me to have to pay them a visit. If I found out what I needed to know right here, right now, I’d never have to bother them.”

  “Like I said, I don’t know anything,” Chapa maintained.

  “Of course, if I have to drive all the way to Nashua to get what I need, I’m going to be downright irritated,” Rainhorse continued. “I am not nearly as sweet and loveable as I am right now when I am angry, and believe me, I will be downright pissed. There is no telling what I might end up doing. And then there would be the matter of what I would have to do to keep you from warning them I was coming for them. This is really getting complicated. What to do, what to do.”

  “You’re an animal,” Chapa exclaimed.

  “Young lady, I have been called much worse by far better people,” he said. “I need to know where Hank Rattling Thunder is.”

  “If I tell you what I know, then you’ll promise not to hurt me or anyone in Chumani’s family?”

  “If you tell me what I need to know, I will not visit Chumani or her family, provided it’s the truth. I will not hurt you and you’ll never have to see me again,” Rainhorse promised.

  “And you will not hurt Auntie Rose?” Chapa continued.

  “That I can
’t promise,” Rainhorse said.

  “Fuck!” screamed Chapa, “I can’t. Rattling Thunder will kill me.”

  “Rattling Thunder will never find out who gave me his location,” Rainhorse insisted. “I promise.”

  “Why should I believe you?”

  “What choice do you have?”

  Chapa didn’t respond. She sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling like she was going to hyperventilate.

  “Can’t you just leave me alone,” she cried out in desperation.

  “We are wasting time, Chapa,” Rainhorse replied. “I am kind of on a schedule here.”

  Rainhorse tapped his watch for emphasis.

  “I really don’t know where Rattling Thunder is, I swear.”

  “Then I guess I will have to visit Chumani after all,” he replied. “And I guess I do not need you.”

  Rainhorse cocked his pistol loudly for effect.

  “No,” she begged. “I’m supposed to meet Auntie Rose . . . tonight.”

  “Rose Rattling Thunder?” Rainhorse repeated. “You’re meeting her tonight?”

  Chapa nodded.

  “Where?” he continued.

  “The Mall in Plentywood,” she said. “There’s a coffee shop on the main floor near the entrance.”

  “Why are you meeting her?”

  “She and HRT are holed up somewhere on the res, I don’t know where,” Chapa said, “but wherever it is, she doesn’t have a washer and dryer. She can’t go home; the FBI has it under surveillance. She brought me her clothes two days ago so I could wash them. I’m taking her clothes and groceries to her.”

  “What time are you meeting her?”

  “Five-thirty. Please, Mr. Rainhorse. Don’t hurt her.”

  Rainhorse paused but said nothing. He looked at his watch. The mall was just over forty-five minutes away. He had plenty of time to get there.

  Rainhorse pulled his cell from his pocket and made a call to his trusted friend, Ellie Limberhand.

  “Ellie, are you at your position?”

  “I’m just sitting here cooling my heels waiting on you, big guy?”