Black Bayou

by Beverly Sims

  Danforth came back to say his men were gone and the car was ready.

  "Thanks, Sheriff, most thoughtful of you.” He pushed Ellen ahead of him, turned, and shot Danforth in the leg, too. “Don't want you following me, now do I?"

  The stairs were dark as he climbed. He never saw the little body that threw itself at his knees. He rolled backwards, landing at the foot of the stairs. His gun slid across the floor, out of reach, but the sheriff had his. He used it to shoot the kidnapper in his leg, too. All three of them lay on the floor while the small boy stood up. He walked over to the gun, picked it up, and aimed carefully as he pulled the trigger.

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  Chapter 54

  Ellen ran back down the stairs. The shots wiped out her fear of her captor. Mac was all that mattered. She stopped and stared at the small boy who ran to bury his face in her shoulder as she knelt to hold him in her arms. She looked at Mac and Danforth. “I'll get help. Come with me, Billy, and see if you can use the sheriff's radio."

  They heard his little voice, the sound of cars, racing feet, and the stunned looks on the faces of the officers. Ellen was wearing a blanket now, holding Billy's hand as she ran across the floor to Mac, dropping beside him. She took his face in her hands and kissed him all over, then his lips deeply. “Oh, God, Mac, I thought you were dead.” Tears were running down her face as he sat up and pressed her head to his chest.

  "Damnit, woman, I thought you were dead, too. I love you, Ellen. I love you.” He pressed his face into her hair to hide his tears. Billy stood beside them, then, with hunched shoulders, started to move away.

  "Billy, get your little butt back here.” Ellen grabbed his hand, pulling him down with them. “I love you, too, little man. Mac, I want you to meet Billy. Billy, this is Mac.” With one arm around Mac and the other around Billy, she hugged them until her arms hurt.

  The EMTs had heard Billy's little voice on the radio and called to find out the location. His men helped Sheriff Danforth on a stretcher and carried it up. The same EMTs had treated Mac when the helicopter flew him to the hospital. One of them said, “What are you trying to do? There is no prize for the emergenciest flights, you know. Now, let's see how badly you have damaged yourself this time. And ma'am, could you and your son please move back so we can treat him?"

  Mac did not understand about Billy, at least not then, but if Ellen loved the boy, that was enough for him. He smiled as his chest and mind filled with such enormous love he felt like weeping again. He did not fail to notice the boy looking up at Ellen with the same love he felt, but the child was crying openly.

  "Honey, what's the matter? Billy, no need for tears ... we are all going to be alright.” Ellen knelt again to hold him.

  "No, it's not. He called me your son, but I am not your son. My father will beat me for sure again."

  "No, he won't, Billy,” Mac said. “If it's okay with Ellen, it's okay with me.” She smiled and nodded, understanding without words. “Would you like to be our son together?"

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  Chapter 55

  While Mac was still recuperating, and grumbling, in the hospital again, Ellen had some loose ends to tie up. The first was a visit to Billy's father. She drove to Cotton and dropped the child off with Alma. Not far behind her was a state police car that followed her up the hill to the shack where she hoped to find the disgusting man.

  She knocked several times before she heard movement behind the door. The odors from the house made her dizzy, but she stood waiting. Finally, he cracked the door enough to see out before opening it. “Wall, if'n it ain't that pretty fuckin’ gal of Mac's, back for what he ain't giving her, all laid up and cut up. You came ta da right place.” He grabbed her arm, pulling her inside, immediately tearing the front of her blouse as he reached to squeeze her breast. She cried out for him to stop, but her distress seemed to excite him more.

  What he had not expected was for the door to open again with two state patrol officers pushing in. One punched him in the stomach as he dropped his hands away from Ellen. The other pushed his arms behind his back and secured the cuffs tightly, perhaps a bit too tightly, but he was so imbibed he didn't seem to notice.

  "You are under arrest for assault and attempted rape. You have the right...” The officer continued to state his rights as he staggered, hardly able to stand.

  Ellen smiled. “Officers, can you take the handcuffs off for a minute? I have a paper he needs to sign."

  "Hell, I ain't signin’ a paper ‘out knowin’ what it say."

  "Here, read it. It is simple enough."

  He looked around and mumbled, “Cain't read."

  "No surprise there,” Ellen said. “Okay, I will read it for you. Better yet, I will tell you in simple words. It says that you are giving full custody of your son Billy to Mac and me, that you relinquish ... that means ‘give up’ ... all claims to him now and forever. Do you understand?"

  "Hell, you kin ‘ave da li'l bugger. Ain't never wanted him anyway.” He signed.

  Ellen grinned. “Say, Officers, if I drop the charges, will he still have to go to jail?"

  "Yes, ma'am. Charges will be handled in court. Time in jail sure won't hurt this guy. Neither will a shower. We will have to fumigate the car when we get back to Inverness with him."

  Much to Ellen's pleasure, it was the last time she would ever see the man, and Billy would never have to fear him again.

  * * * *

  Mac was released a few days later. His plans included a trip to Black Bayou to see his grandmother and tell her he had arranged for her and Henry to live in a two-bedroom apartment in an assisted living place in Inverness. He knew he would have a fight on his hands, hands he could not use yet, but he had to win her over. He could not let her stay in a barn any longer than she already had.

  Ellen warned him as they neared the bumpy section of the road to be ready for the ride of his life. He did not understand until she sped up, swerving to hit ... not miss ... every hole and bump the entire way. It took only a minute for him to understand. The laughter from the rear seat was enough to make anyone smile, as had been the tears of happiness when they told Billy that he would be their son forever.

  When they arrived, they found Henry sitting on a stump, head in his hands. He was crying, and it took quite some time to calm him enough for him to explain that Mrs. Atwater had died in the night. Instead of remorse, Mac burst out laughing. “She won again! She always did, no matter what. She was not going to leave here, ever, and now she won't have to."

  Henry had already built a coffin, lined it with the nicest blankets he could find, and picked flowers that he laid inside around her. The horse and wagon were even hitched, awaiting the trip up the hill.

  "Mr. Mac, she dun tell me las night to do all dis. Had me dig a hole up dere for her, too. I did'n wan to, but she made ol’ Henry do it. She want to sleep in the box las night ... said it were time. She say you come today, ‘n’ she be ready."

  Mac put his arm around the bent old black man, hugging him to his chest. “Yes, I suppose she did know, somehow. Let's get her up there and in the ground. Ellen, will you and our son help Henry?” He waved his bandaged hands, a gesture of frustration.

  Mac and Ellen stood arm in arm as Henry shoveled the dirt into the grave. Billy came running with a handful of flowers that he carefully laid on top of the mound. Henry pushed a cross into the ground ... a cross Mrs. Atwater had directed him to place there. She wrote on it herself.

  Prudence Amelia Black Atwater. Daughter, Wife, and Mother. No dates, nothing else. It was as she wanted it.

  Billy rode next to Henry on the wagon back down the hill. Sometime during the ride, he had slipped his little hand into the large black one, holding it tightly. Henry lifted him to the ground, and he ran to Ellen. “What about Henry? Where will he go? Please don't make him stay here all alone. He helped me find Snowball, and he is my friend."

  Mac picked up the child and turned to Henry. “Henry, we want you to c
ome with us. We are going to live in Colorado, a faraway place with only good memories and happiness."

  Henry shook his head ‘no’ and would not look at them.

  Billy struggled to be put down and ran to hug Henry's legs. “Please, oh please, Henry. Please come with us. Snowball ... he is the cat, a boy cat, with balls like mine ... wants you to come, too.” His little voice rambled on, telling Henry everything he could remember from Ellen and Mac telling him about a house they would have, a barn with horses. He stopped suddenly. “Who will take care of the horses if you don't come? Please, Henry, Please.” Again small tears flooded his eyes.

  Slowly, Henry lifted his head, smiled at Mac and nodded. Henry would have a home, too.

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  Three Years Later

  Ellen felt the first pain low in her back and smiled. She walked—waddled was her word for it—to the window to look out at her husband and son, returning from the barn with Ranger the dog beside them. Snowball lay curled up on a chair on the porch, waiting for his Billy.

  The Rocky Mountains, dusted with snow from the night before, glimmered like diamonds scattered on their high slopes in the morning sun. The view was as awesome to her as the first time she had seen it. Snow was so new to the three of them that they were outside in it every chance they got, but Snowball refused to share their enthusiasm. The newness had not worn off for any of them, including a mutt puppy from the dog pound, which Billy laughingly called ‘Gator’ because of the way he loved to bite and pull.

  She would have Mac phone her parents when it was time. She smiled, thinking of how delighted they were with Billy. They could not have loved him more if he had been her biological child. And he loved them in return.

  She sat back down, remembering the months after leaving bayou country. Atlanta was not home for her anymore and would never be for Mac. They put up a US map and blindfolded Billy. “Okay, son, I am going to turn you a couple times, and then you throw the dart. Wherever it lands is where we will land, too.” Billy giggled, a noise she adored hearing. He had come so far from the sad little boy who liked bouncing on the dirt roads of the South.

  The dart hit Colorado, just about deadeye on Denver, so Denver it was. Or rather near Denver it was. “Now, my kitten really can be a snowball,” he beamed as he snuggled the white ball of fluff.

  Mac sold the plantation property to a couple that thought it would be a great place for a Bed and Breakfast. She smiled at the irony of that. They even wanted all the furniture stored in the barn, although it had become moldy and mildewed.

  There was ample money to buy their little ranch an hour from downtown Denver. The barn held three horses ... maybe in a couple years there would be more horses and a couple of beef she knew they would never butcher. Billy called them Beef Wellington and Beef Stroganoff, and one did not eat things with names.

  She called to Mac and Billy as they came in the back door. “Billy, will you please go to our bedroom and get the little suitcase by the door? Mac, will you bring the car around and have Henry come up to stay with our son while we are gone? It's time to go get our baby sister."

  Footnote: They never knew it, but in central Ohio the day Ellen was kidnapped, a van overturned on the highway, killing all three inside. A suitcase in the back held two-and-a-half million dollars. On some of the bills was the word ‘Windsong.’ One particularly inquisitive investigator found a report on the death of one Windsong Clayton of Roswell, New Mexico.

  Anyone visiting there now would see two monuments at the reservation gates, one that said, “Windsong Clayton, Our Daughter Returned,” and one that read, “In Memory of Marybeth Dawson. Her Loving Parents."

  The two-and-a-half million would provide health care and education for their children for generations. The other million is still missing.

  THE END

  www.simsbooks.com

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  About the Author

  Beverly grew up on the Oregon Coast where the stormy surf and rugged cliffs make perfect backgrounds for her first novels. Her move to Central Florida, where she lives with her husband, opened a new world of bayous and the critters that live in them, and set the scene for Black Bayou.

  They love traveling this great country in their motor home. One such trip became the germ of an idea for an Indian story to be followed by pioneers, ranchers, and all the others in The Witness Tree series.

  You never know what might be around the next bend.

  To love to write is to love to read.

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