“I have to do something,” Dani said abruptly.
“You stay put,” Caleb said. “It’s a helluva storm brewing. Wait here for the sheriff, we’ll go meet Steven and bring Molly back here. Might be an hour before Conroy gets here in this storm. He’ll notify the state police, and they’ll alert the feds.”
“I’ll get the rifle from my truck,” Guthrie said.
“I have one, too,” Badger said. “I’ll fetch it along, just in case.” A flash of lightning and a low rumble of thunder made Badger pause while following Guthrie out the kitchen door. “Here it comes, just like I said,” Badger commented. “First thunderstorm of the year, and it couldn’t be worse timing.”
Jimmy watched the men leave the kitchen and felt a frisson of fear and excitement run through him. He finished mixing the chives into the chèvre and began portioning it into recycled yogurt containers, ending up with two quarts of fresh chèvre. Dani had paid no attention to his efforts. She was still standing at the table, staring down at the map, her face very pale. The encouraging words spoken by Pony and Jessie had had no effect on her.
“I can’t stand waiting around and doing nothing,” she said, as if talking to the map. “I can’t stand not knowing if Joe’s dead or alive. I just can’t.”
Jimmy carried the yogurt containers over to the table. “I finished the goat cheese, Dani. It came out good.”
She looked up at him with a blank expression, then forced a smile. “That’s good, Jimmy.”
“You want to try some?”
She shook her head. “Not right now, but thanks.”
Roon chose that moment to depart. Without a word to anyone he walked out the kitchen door. Jimmy turned and followed on his heels.
“You boys try to get some sleep,” Pony’s voice said after them into the darkness. “Molly will not need an audience when she gets here, and we will not know anything about Joe until morning.”
Jimmy had to half run to keep up with Roon’s big strides as he crossed the yard. “Whatever you’re thinking about doing, count me in,” he said.
“No,” Roon replied, not looking at him.
“If you don’t let me come along, I’ll tell Badger and Pony that you’re up to something.”
Roon stopped and rounded on him. “You heard Pony. It’s late. Go to bed.”
“You know where they took Joe, don’t you?” Jimmy said, his heart beating fast.
“You would, too, if you’d have been paying attention instead of making your stupid goat cheese.” Roon continued on toward the school building with Jimmy close behind. The other boys were still up, sitting on the floor around another large geological survey map they’d pulled out of the school library.
“Roon knows where they are,” Jimmy announced as soon they came through the door. His words electrified the other boys. They jumped up and demanded to know everything. They gathered around Roon, who, at their vocal insistence, reluctantly laid the big map out on a table. He picked up a yellow highlighter and bent over the map.
“This is where Molly’s car was found, and way over here is the nearest cell phone tower, the only one that serves this area, and it’s spotty service.” He made two X-marks on the map. “The cell phone signal was strong enough by Molly’s car so that Joe was able to receive a phone call from the kidnapper on Molly’s phone, which was left in her car by the kidnapper. We know all the dead zones in this area where our phones won’t work. There are lots of them and we’ve found them all, over the past year.”
The boys nodded in agreement and bent closer.
“Here,” Ralph said, pointing.
“I can’t get any signal here,” said Jimmy.
They pored over the map, pointing out dead zones. For every area that was a designated dead zone, Roon filled in a big yellow circle.
“We can eliminate all those places,” he said. “Now, where can you be up in these mountains and see that section of black road where Molly’s car was abandoned? Where could you be where you’d spot Caleb’s emergency flashers and the headlights from two cars? Where could you go and have room enough to park a chopper and still get good cell phone reception?”
The boys studied the map intently. “Here,” they all said simultaneously, stabbing their fingers in the same spot.
“Right near the old line camp,” Roon concurred. “Bet you anything that chopper is sitting up in that high meadow by the line camp, and that’s where Joe is. They can’t fly in this weather. They’d have to put down in the same spot where they’d been watching the road.”
“So, we’re going up there?” Ralph said. “What’ll we do when we get there?”
“Rescue Joe, stupid,” Jimmy replied.
“How?”
“We’ll have to come up with a plan,” Roon said.
Another crack of thunder made them look up. “Should we leave now or after the storm?”
“We’ll go to bed just like any other night. Pony’ll check on us in another hour or so. At three a.m., we’ll meet in the horse barn.”
“We’re riding up there?”
“We could take the four-wheelers, but horses are quiet and they can go where four-wheelers can’t. There’ll still be snow up there, in places that the four-wheelers couldn’t get through. If we leave by three, we’ll be there at first light. We’ll tether the horses and walk the last of it and then scope things out,” Roon said. “We don’t know how many are up there, but we can assume they all have guns.”
“And we don’t,” Jimmy pointed out.
“We have one,” Roon corrected. “An air rifle that shoots buffalo tranquilizers.”
The boys stared at him in awe. “Won’t that kill ’em?” Jimmy said.
“I’ll adjust the dosage and preload ten darts. They’ll get staggering dopey drunk and fall down. That’s how it works with the buffalo and longhorn cattle.”
“Okay, so you shoot the first Mob guy, he hollers and screams and all the others grab their guns and shoot us,” Jimmy said. “That’s stupid!”
“You could try poisoning them with your goat cheese if you think that would work better,” Roon countered. Jimmy flushed at the snickers. “The rest of you will have to stay hidden and figure out ways to lure them away from the group one at a time until I can get a dart into them.”
“Out of earshot so nobody else can hear them holler when they get darted? Far enough so the drug affects them before they can make it back to the group?” Ralph said. “Jimmy’s right. That’s a stupid plan.”
“You have a better one?” Roon asked.
The boys looked at each other. “No,” they said in a subdued chorus.
“Then we’ll meet in the barn at three. Anyone who doesn’t want to go doesn’t have to. If you come up with any ideas of how to distract them, we can brainstorm on the ride up the mountain. Jimmy, maybe you could bring your bow and arrows, just in case. You’re a pretty good shot.”
Nobody snickered at Roon’s comment this time. This was for real, and it was dangerous. Roon looked at each of them in turn and it seemed to Jimmy that they all stood a little taller that night. They weren’t boys anymore.
* * *
BADGER AND CHARLIE sat in the backseat of the Suburban as Caleb sped down the ranch road ahead of the thunderstorm. “Roon’s up to something,” Badger commented after a particularly bright flash of lightning lit the sky.
“Yep,” Charlie agreed. “The way he was standing in the kitchen, studying that map, listening to everything we said, he’s plotting. Don’t blame him a bit. Sitting around waiting for a miracle to happen seems like a poor way to get Joe back. And Joe’s got himself hurt again, which makes matters more urgent. He’s turning into a regular human colander. What time’s it now?”
“About ten minutes later than when you last asked,” Badger said, bracing himself against the bumps i
n the road. “Close to midnight. We might get to the cutoff before Steven does, the rate we’re traveling.”
“If we don’t crash first,” Charlie said. “Don’t know why you bothered to bring that old rifle. You couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn with it when you were young.”
“I’ve had a few years to improve my aim.”
“You’ve had a lot more than a few years to slow down to a crawl.”
“Being quick doesn’t matter near as much as being steady,” Badger said. “Coolness and a steady nerve will always beat quick. Take yer time and you’ll only need to pull the trigger once.”
“If you don’t die of old age first,” Charlie said. “Going up against the Mob, I’d rather have a gatling gun, myself.”
“The cutoff’s just up ahead,” Badger said as a bolt of lightning streaked sideways across the valley. Caleb slowed and turned off onto the dirt road.
“There’re fresh tire tracks but I can’t tell if there’s one set or two and it’s about to start pouring any second now,” Caleb said. He drove as quick as he could until he spotted taillights up ahead. He hit the brakes hard. “That’s Steven’s car,” he said. They pulled up behind it and everyone piled out, grabbing their weapons, but the weapons weren’t needed. Steven had walked ahead of his car and was standing beside Molly’s Mercedes. Molly was in his arms. They clung tightly to each other, oblivious to the storm. To the rain that started pouring down just as they arrived. To the crashing thunder and brilliant flashes of lightning. To the gusts of wind that lashed the searchers as they approached.
“They’re gone,” Steven said while they stood in the full fury of the storm. “They got who they came for and they’re gone.” His voice was calm, Badger thought, for a man whose fiancée had been kidnapped and whose future brother-in-law was probably dead, or as good as.
Steven was the calm in the eye of the storm.
* * *
AFTER THE MEN LEFT, Dani collapsed into a chair at the kitchen table and buried her face in her hands, overwhelmed. She wanted to cry, to release all the pent-up tension, but the tears wouldn’t come. She was paralyzed. She felt a hand on her shoulder and Pony spoke gently in her ear.
“Come and sit by the fire with us,” she said. “Bring your dogs in. We will wait together.”
Pony had started a fire in the living room and Jessie was there, too. They sat together in the flickering light of the flames while the thunderstorm lashed the ranch house. They shared hot toddies that Ramalda had made and wondered what was happening out in the darkness and the rain. Dani closed her hands around the warm mug and tried to think positive thoughts, but it was impossible. Marconi had released Molly and taken Joe, and from what Molly had told Steven, Joe had been shot. As if he hadn’t been hurt enough by this heartless mobster! What had possessed Joe to become a drug enforcement agent? Why would anyone want to spend their days dealing with criminals like Marconi? Did he like the excitement? Did he think he was making a difference? If he survived this nightmare, would he want to go back to that job?
And why was she even thinking thoughts of the future, when Joe might already be dead?
Pony placed another log in the fireplace. Dani tried to swallow a small sip of the hot toddy. It smelled of apple-pie spices and honey, but the whiskey fumes made her eyes water and the small swallow burned going down. She stared into the flames until they shimmered through a veil of tears.
The storm was fierce. The flashes of lightning, the thunder that shook the old ranch house, the torrential rains that drummed on the roof almost obliterated the sound of the vehicles driving into the yard, but the cow dogs and her own two goldens raised their heads from their paws and pricked their ears. They jumped up as one entity and moved to the door. Dani pushed past them and ran out into the deluge to where Steven had parked. Molly sat in the passenger seat and Dani wrenched open the passenger-side door. Her tears were lost in the rain and it no longer mattered that she tried to be strong and brave because at that moment she was neither, as Molly reached for her and choked out the words, “They took Joseph!” Dani could only sob in response.
Steven helped them both into the house, and once inside, Pony whisked Molly upstairs to get her into dry clothes, leaving the blanket that had been draped around Molly’s shoulders in a heap on the kitchen floor. Dani picked it up. It was the red-and-black-striped wool blanket Luther Makes Elk had given them, her and Joe, when they’d left his place. The same blanket Molly had given Luther Makes Elk just that morning. It was wet and smelled of wool and she held it in her arms as if somehow it could connect her to Joe and keep him safe. She took it back into the living room and sat with it in her lap, her two dogs at her feet, staring into the flames. She felt numb all over as she listened to Steven answer questions, listened to the conversations around her and waited for Molly to come back downstairs. But in her mind she was already out in the stormy night, up on the mountain, searching for Joe.
* * *
THE CHOPPER PILOT barely made it back to the clearing on the mountain before all hell broke loose. The heavens opened up, the rain and hail came down and a strong gust of wind nearly flipped the chopper as he was touching down. Marconi’s men were too busy arguing amongst themselves to pay much attention to the rough flight or how close they’d come to crashing. Half wanted to keep flying north to the border before the feds arrived, the other half wanted to land until the storm passed. It was the pilot who finally ended the argument by saying, “Gentlemen, we either land right now or we crash, so unless one of you decides to shoot me, I’m landing this bird.”
From what Joe could make out, none of Marconi’s men had any grasp of how badly Marconi had been hurt. Joe had aimed for the heart and, if he’d come anywhere close, Marconi might be dead. Nobody was paying much attention to him or Joe. They’d hastily bound Joe’s hands behind him with duct tape but that was all. Joe had clenched his fists tight when they bound him, and he could feel a slight play in the wrapping of the tape.
Now they were safely on the ground, engine shut down, chopper blade slowing, violent winds buffeting the big machine as the lightning flashed and hail hammered against the chopper’s metal skin. One of them slid the door open; another jumped out and made a run into the wall of rain and darkness. The pilot was escorted off at gunpoint by a third man, the one Joe had tackled. A few minutes later the first man returned and helped the other gunman carry Marconi off.
Joe was halfway out the chopper door, intending to make a run for it, when the man who’d taken the pilot returned. He held a flashlight, shining it in his eyes, and waved his pistol back and forth in a menacing fashion. “I wouldn’t try that if I were you. The only reason you’re still alive is because Marconi wants to kill you himself.”
Joe was prodded at gunpoint through the pouring rain and shoved inside a small log cabin. Someone had lit an oil lamp at the table and the soft glow illuminated the chopper pilot, seated at the table, brim of his baseball cap dripping water. In the lamplight, the recognition between them was instant. It was Nash, the same pilot who’d flown them to look for Custer’s mares the day before, the pilot who flew for Yellowstone Helotours. No wonder Molly had stopped her car and gotten out when she spotted the chopper. She probably thought he and Dani were on board searching for more clues as to who killed the wild mustangs.
Joe was shoved down in another chair at the table. Marconi had been deposited on a lower bunk on the far wall and two of his goons were huddled over him.
“Is he dead?” Joe heard one of them say over the wild thunderstorm raging outside.
“Dead men don’t bleed, you idiot,” the other replied.
“We gotta stop the bleeding. What’ll we do if he dies?”
“Same as we always planned to do—get the hell out of here before the feds catch us.”
“What about the money Marconi promised us?”
“You kidding? If we get out
of this mess alive we’ll be lucky. Get me something to stuff in the wound—a dish rag, an old sock, anything!”
While they fussed over Marconi, the third gunman, the one whose weapon Joe had used to shoot Marconi, sat down at the table. He pulled a flask out of his pocket and laid his pistol down to uncap it. He took a long swallow, screwed the cap back on and slipped the flask back inside his jacket. Then he picked up his pistol, aimed it casually at Joe and smiled an ugly smile.
“One way or another, this night isn’t going to end well for you,” he promised.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
ROON WAS WIDE-AWAKE. All of the boys were. Pony checked on them at one a.m. and they all feigned sleep, but they lay awake through the storm. They heard the return of Caleb’s Suburban and Steven’s vehicle, and then a little later, the arrival of the sheriff’s car. They were filled with adrenaline at the thought of what was to come. By two a.m. the sheriff’s car had left, presumably to rally his troops and return at dawn since nothing could be done in the dark. By three a.m. the heavy line storms had tapered off in intensity and Roon rose, told the boys to get ready but remain in the building while he crept down to the barn. The air rifle and tranquilizer were kept in the locked cabinet in the tack room, but he knew where the key was. Jessie had told him the last time he’d had to fetch it for her when they were heading out to work on a longhorn cow that had hoof rot.
The darts were in the cabinet, as well, and he wore his headlamp while he filled the darts with the tranquilizer. He used one-quarter the dosage they would use for an adult buffalo. He figured that amount would have considerable effect on a two-hundred-pound human. But he wasn’t concerned about side effects—these were dangerous men. They had taken Steven’s woman and now they had her brother, and they deserved no mercy.
He had just finished loading the last syringe when he heard the barn door open and close. He shut off his headlamp and stood in the dark, holding the rifle and slipping the darts inside the book pack he’d brought. Soft footsteps and the beam of a flashlight passed the door of the tack room and continued on to the stall that held the orphaned foal and the mare that was fostering it. He heard a woman’s voice. Dani. She was speaking softly, first to the mare and then the foal. She was telling the foal how handsome and brave Custer, the band stallion, had been. How he had kept them safe and watched over them, how she had known him for years and how his life and the life of his little band of mares had changed her own life forever. Roon wished she would hurry up and go back to bed. Instead, he heard strange noises and realized that Dani was crying, sobbing. He opened the tack room door quietly and peeked out. She was crumpled in a ball outside the stall, arms on her knees and head buried in her arms, shoulders heaving.
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