Dark Places

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Dark Places Page 18

by Reavis Z. Wortham


  He didn’t have to tell Cale twice. Tail between his legs, he returned to Pepper. “Outside.” When the door closed behind them, he kicked the wall. “That old fart in there wouldn’t even think about selling us tickets.”

  “That’s it, then.” Pepper stalked away, back in the direction they came from. “I’ve had it.”

  Cale followed. “Hey, it’ll get better. Let’s go scrounge some food and…”

  Despair welled. Putting both hands to her cheeks, Pepper screamed as Cale backed away in terror. Their situation, the scar on her shoulder, John T., and the realization that no matter where she was in the world, she’d never shed her roots, all added gasoline to the fire that suddenly erupted through the wall so carefully built since that terrible night in the bottoms.

  She bent her knees and screamed again toward the hot sky, trying to rid herself of the demons she’d carried for the past three years.

  Her third scream came from deep inside and lasted as long as her breath, then it died away, to be replaced by the hiss of cars passing on the highway.

  Spinning on her heel, she wiped away what welled in her eyes and stalked off down the sidewalk. Block after block, Cale followed like a whipped puppy, head down and both hands in his pockets.

  They eventually reached the outskirts of town, where she stopped beside a colorful Volkswagen van parked on the street between The End of the Trail motel and a Texaco station. Pepper’s spirits had recovered when she uttered the first calm words in an hour. “Psychedelic.”

  “Ain’t she a beaut?”

  She flashed the long-haired boy a brilliant smile. “You’re a tall drink of water.”

  “I wish I had a nickel for every time I heard that.”

  “This yours?”

  “All mine.”

  “Where you headed?” Pepper spoke over the roar of motorcycles pulling up to the curb. A line of bearded, leather-clad bikers rumbled around the van and parked in front of a nondescript bar.

  “California.” He stuck out a hand. “I’m Kevin.”

  “Hi, Kevin. I’m Pepper. Where in California?”

  A bearded giant swung a leg over his bike. “Hey, pretty little girl. You can ride on back with me.”

  Pepper’s disgust at his dirty jeans and matching shirt was obvious. She noted his leather vest and dismissed him, turning her attention back to Kevin. “San Francisco?”

  She felt Cale pluck at her sleeve. “Hey, I thought you were done.”

  “Shut up, Cale.” Pepper ignored him and yanked her arm free. “Do you have room for any more?”

  Irritated at her disinterest, the biker stepped close to Pepper. “Yeah, shut up, Cale.”

  One of his friends snickered. “Careful there, Griz. She might be mean.”

  For the first time in his life, Cale did the right thing, only at the wrong time. “Hey, back off, Fatso.” He stepped between Griz and Pepper. “We’re not talking to you.”

  Griz popped Cale in the chest with the flat of his hand, knocking the lippy youngster backward. He landed hard on his butt. Through the years Cale had won his share of fights against country boys bigger and tougher than himself. Jumping to his feet, he threw a hard right that thumped solidly against Griz’s big gut. The biker grunted and swung his own right, catching Cale on the forehead. This time the kid dropped like a sack of feed.

  Griz bent over to grab Cale’s shirt, but the boy was game. He hit Griz on the jaw with everything he had, but there wasn’t much power behind it. The only thing the punch did was finally make Griz angry.

  “You gonna let that little piss-ant beat you, Griz?” A muscled biker leaned back and laughed.

  Saving face, Griz squatted and gripped Cale’s shirt with two big fists. In that second, a sneaker whistled out of nowhere. Pepper’s kick held all the anger and frustration she built up on the road. Griz’s nose exploded like a rotten tomato. Off balance, he staggered sideways and dropped to his knee. Cale kicked out at a blue-jeaned leg, connecting with an unidentified shin. A sharp yelp filled the air and then a flurry of boots hammered him from every direction as the gang members jumped in to protect their friend.

  “Let’s get!” A set of twin boys with blond hair to their shoulders pulled Pepper inside the van as Kevin jumped in and started the engine.

  “No!” Struggling to stay with Cale, she cracked her head on something hard and lights flashed behind her eyes. She collapsed on the floor and more hands held her as the van’s door slid shut.

  Outside, Cale curled into a ball as the bikers kicked him unconscious.

  The van sped away from the street fight and for Cale, everything went black.

  Chapter Forty-six

  Ned’s stomach hurt so bad he could barely get out of bed. James paced the floor. “Let us take you to the doctor.”

  “Hell. no. We need to get to find Pepper, then you can take me to the doctor, but not before.”

  “Why not?”

  “’Cause we need to move, for one thing, and for the other, they might want to put me in the hospital or something for this belly-ache. You know how doctors are, if they think they can get you in a hospital bed, they’ll dern shore do it. Then that’ll leave you and Crow without me.”

  Crow was waiting in his favorite lawn chair when Ned and James emerged. He rose and watched Ned take the backseat for the first time. Only then did Crow begin to worry about the old man. “You don’t want to ride up front?”

  “Nope. I’m gonna lay back here and see if I can get easy. I took a dose of Pepto-Bismol Bismol. It should start working before long.”

  Crow raised his eyebrows and James sighed. “I don’t know how many times we’ve told him there ain’t no second Bismol, but he says it anyway, like he’s hard-headed or something.”

  James started the car as Crow climbed into the passenger seat. They drove through Meteor City before the town came awake. A fading sign for the town of Two Guns and a large building advertising mountain lions grew smaller in their mirrors. Giant red and yellow arrows nearly twenty feet in length outside of the Twin Arrows Trading Post faded into the distance. They were most likely the only people from out of town that day that didn’t stop at the stark white café and gas station.

  Flagstaff eventually rose in the distance. Not long afterward, James steered into the parking lot in front of the courthouse. “I’m going in to talk with somebody about this address for Westlake’s relatives. I want a police officer to go with us.”

  Crow was silent, but in the backseat, Ned spoke up. “Find us a city map. We can go it alone.”

  “I think we need the law with us.”

  “Son, I am the law.”

  “Dad, you’re Texas law, and sick to boot.”

  “That don’t make no difference. I’ll rally when we get there.”

  James drummed the steering wheel in frustration. “Crow, what do you think?”

  He flicked his eyes toward the front door beneath the tall clock tower, wondering if the police department was housed inside the red brick building. If nothing else, there would be sheriff’s deputies inside. “I’m with Ned. This is family business, and you don’t need the local fuzz to go with you.”

  “Family? Ned, you didn’t say anything about family. You said he was Comanche.”

  “I believe he means it in a way other than blood.”

  “I do.”

  James studied Crow for a long minute. “You’re on the run from the law.” It wasn’t a question, but a flat statement.

  “I’m on the run from life.”

  “Ned, we truly don’t know this feller. It could be he’s a fugitive.”

  “Right now, he’s a man helping us, son.”

  “But,” James stopped, watching a kid walking down the street. “…I’ll be damned.”

  Ned raised up on one elbow in the backseat to see where James was pointing. A teenager h
urried toward them at a pretty good clip. The boy didn’t see them in the car, and James realized he was on his way into the courthouse.

  Crow followed James’ point. “What?”

  “That’s Cale Westlake.”

  For the first time since they’d met him, Crow showed surprise.

  Before they could react, Cale opened the door under the clock tower and went inside.

  Chapter Forty-seven

  Instead of going straight back home, I cut off the road at the catch pen a hundred yards from our drive and pedaled down to Uncle Cody’s house. I knew he wouldn’t be there, but figured Norma Faye would be. She was sitting on the porch, shelling peas.

  “What are you doing out cattin’ around in this weather?”

  I dropped my bike in the yard and joined her. “Miss Becky sent me to the store for some cake mix.”

  Surprised, she glanced up at the gray sky. “She must want to bake awful bad. She always makes her cakes from scratch.”

  “I think she made it up because she wanted to get me away for a little while. She dropped a jar and I heard her cuss.”

  Norma Faye’s hands went limp in her lap. “She never.”

  “She did. She said ‘shit-fire,’ and then went to crying.”

  Norma Faye bit her lip. She was wearing lipstick, even at home alone, and her top teeth scraped some off her bottom lip. Her eyes filled. I couldn’t go anywhere without women spilling tears. “She’s worried sick about Pepper.”

  “She’s all right, now that she’s cried, I ’magine.”

  “No, she isn’t.” Norma Faye stood. “I’m going over there. You can ride with me and leave your bike here.”

  “She said she’s going to church when I get back.”

  “She can, but we probably need to talk first.”

  “I didn’t come here to tell you that.”

  She raised her eyebrows and waited.

  “I need to talk to Uncle Cody, but I don’t want to do it when Miss Becky’s around.”

  Norma Faye didn’t bat an eye or even take a second to think. “You want to go inside and call him?”

  “Can I?”

  “Sure.” She sat back down without questioning me like anyone else would. “I’ll finish shelling these peas and then we’ll go to the house together.”

  Their phone was in the kitchen, at the back of the house. I walked through, remembering what it was like when Mr. Tom Bell, the old Texas Ranger, was rebuilding the place that had fallen into ruin. His trunk still sat against the wall in the living room with a crocheted drape over it, like it was a little casket, and maybe that’s how they felt about it. I only remembered it was full of guns when me and Pepper snuck in one day while Mr. Tom was gone. When we lifted the lid, we found his pistol, holster, badge, and a big, mean-looking rifle.

  I knew the number by heart, and spun the dial five times.

  “Sheriff’s Department.”

  The voice didn’t sound like anyone I’d ever talked to. “Is this Martha?”

  “No, hon. This is Deputy Anna Sloan. Who do you need?”

  “Uncle Cody, uh, I mean Sheriff Cody Parker.”

  “You must be Top.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “Your Uncle Cody’s not here right now. What can I do for you?”

  “I really need to talk to him about something really, really important.”

  “Really?”

  I knew right off she was making fun of me, and it made me mad. “What’ll it take for you to have him call back, or come home?”

  “Well, he’s in Dallas right now, with some bodi…on official business.”

  “Can you radio him?”

  “Is it that important?”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “I’ll holler at him. Are you all right, hon?”

  “Yes ma’am. I have some news that he might be able to use.”

  “Can you give it to me?”

  I caught myself biting my lip like Norma Faye. “Will you tell him?”

  “Sure will. He’s my boss.”

  “I think I know who called Judge Rains and told him where to find the bodies of those missing men.”

  There was a long moment of silence. “How do you know that?”

  I explained what I’d overheard on Mr. O.C.’s phone, and again in Neal’s store.

  “How sure are you?”

  “Sure enough to call you.”

  “I’ve heard stories about you and Pepper, how y’all get in trouble sometimes.”

  “We aren’t wrong, though.” I thought about telling her about my dreams, but I didn’t know her well enough and was afraid she’d laugh at me.

  “All right. I’ll see what I can do.”

  Relieved, I hung up. I’d done everything I was supposed to do, and she was right, without Pepper there, I was out of it.

  Norma Faye was waiting when I came out on the porch. She’d been listening. “Why didn’t you want to make that call at home?”

  “I believe Miss Becky has enough on her plate as it is, so I don’t want her worrying about me getting involved in something like this again.”

  She raised an eyebrow and studied me for a while before standing up. “You’re quite a little man, you know that?”

  It made me feel good for her to say that, and I felt better as she drove me home without asking me a single question.

  The three of us went to church an hour later to pray. Mine was short, and I probably could have made it in the living room instead of the church house.

  Miss Becky took a long, long time at it, though, and I reckon she needed the altar as a pipeline to be heard, after saying such a bad word.

  Chapter Forty-eight

  Ned and James followed Cale Westlake into the Flagstaff police station. Crow stayed outside, in the car.

  Slower because of the pain in his stomach, Ned came in last. They stopped at the sight of Cale standing in the lobby, apparently trying to decide where to go. The youngster saw them when he heard the glass doors close.

  They were shocked at his appearance. Two black eyes and a split lip highlighted the huge lump on his forehead. His shirt was splattered with blood.

  Before Ned could grasp the sight, James lost control and launched forward. “You little bastard!”

  Cale recoiled as if a snake struck at him. Before he could get away, James grabbed a handful of hair and shook the boy like a rag doll. “Where’s my daughter?” His voice echoed throughout the tile lobby.

  “Wait!” Cale’s eyes went wide and filled with water. He tried to twist out of James’ hands, but James shook harder.

  Ned stepped between them, bunching up his son’s shirt and trying to separate them. “James! Back off!” Cale’s tennis shoes squeaked on the floor as he fought for balance. “Son!”

  Two sheriff’s deputies shot out of a nearby courtroom and seeing the apparently violent situation, plowed into the three of them, knocking Ned on his backside. Ned grunted as he hit the hard floor and a lance of pain shot through his tailbone. His Stetson went rolling across the floor.

  James went down hard, taking Cale with him. Growling like a mad bear, he refused to let go of the boy’s shirt and struggled to pull him closer. “Where’s my girl?!”

  The lobby was suddenly filled with shouts and orders as more people poured out of nearby offices. Half a dozen uniformed men joined in to separate the two.

  A young police officer planted one foot between Ned’s outstretched legs, pushing him back with the point of a billy club. “Don’t move old man!”

  James continued to struggle and a deputy on the ground got him in a choke hold from behind. The deputy bent backward, pulling the stricken father into a painful arch. James ducked his chin and twisted, fury overriding good sense. Another deputy twisted James’ arm until it came close to breaking. He released
his hold on Cale’s shirt and disappeared under a pile of even more lawmen who rolled into the fray like an offensive line.

  Ned struggled to push upright. “Hold it! I’m the law! That’s my son you’ve got!”

  The officer with the baton increased the pressure on Ned’s chest. “Fine sir. When we separate your son from that man, you can get up and we’ll figure all this out.”

  “No, the grownup is my son, James. The boy is a runaway.”

  “Stay right there.”

  “I said he’s a runaway!”

  “I said don’t move!”

  Ned’s face flushed with heat. “I told you I’m a lawman. My badge is in my pocket.”

  Ned tried to reach for it and his arm went numb when the officer swung the wooden club against his shoulder. It impacted with a thick, meaty sound. “Don’t reach into that pocket old man!”

  “You son of a bitch! You hit me again and…”

  “Dad!” Still struggling to get free, James saw the officer use two hands on the baton to strike Ned a second time and managed a croak. “Dad!”

  The old constable’s blue eyes flashed, as if taking a photo of the officer standing above him with the baton raised for another strike, then he relaxed and laid back, groaning.

  None of them saw Cale Westlake run out the door.

  Chapter Forty-nine

  Two hours after he got a radio call from Anna, Uncle Cody’s tires crunched up the drive. It was nearly dark, and I was waiting on the porch. Hootie roused up, but he recognized the car and rested his head back on his paws. He didn’t move again until Uncle Cody trailed around the car and up on the porch.

  “Deputy Sloan told me what you think you found out.” Cody dropped into the cane-bottom chair beside me. Hootie stood, turned around three times, and laid back down to watch the road. “Well, at least this time you didn’t go off trying to solve everything all by yourself. I guess Pepper not being here made a difference.”

  “I’m not sure what difference that’d be. It seems like I’m right back in the middle of stuff I don’t want to be in by being up at the store and hearing Freddy. You know how he talks, well, I recognized him right off.”

 

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