Revenge (A Travis Mays Novel)

by Mark Young

  Jean Robinette glared back at them, a sneer on her face. He saw a night scope in her other hand. She’d been watching them from above, her face contorted with hate.

  Chapter 78

  Jean Robinette called out. “We’re coming down, Travis. You’ve got one minute to drop your weapons — both of you — and move out into the clearing where I can see you.”

  Travis moved to comply, laying his weapons on the ground.

  “And the dog — I’ll kill him if it gets anywhere near me.”

  Baptiste stood. He paused, glancing at Travis for a moment. Finally, he shrugged and laid his weapon on the ground. Together, they moved clear of the cabin, standing in the grassland between the dwelling and the stables. Jean had cover and concealment going for her. From her high elevation — and with a gun on Jessie — she had them in a kill zone they could not escape.

  The women slowly descended, Jessie walking a few yards behind. As they drew near, he saw Jean looking from one man to the other. “Both of you. Kneel down and let me see your hands.”

  The men obeyed, Sam came alongside Travis. He looked down at the dog. “Sam. Lay down!” The dog obeyed. Baptiste knelt a few yards to his left.

  Jean motioned to Jessie as they drew near. “You, too. On the ground.” Jessie complied.

  Travis watched Jessie kneel on the ground next to Sam. “Now what? You’ve got our weapons. You can just ride out of here and disappear.”

  Jean looked at him, scowling. “Do you remember that famous line when Sitting Bull’s braves descended on Custer and his troops?”

  Her words chilled him. Travis shook his head, fearful he knew where she was taking this.

  She scowled at him, clenching her jaw. “Sure you do, Professor. He took a look at the cavalry and said, ‘This is a good day to die.’”

  Travis tensed. “It doesn’t have to be this way. You have all the advantages. No one has to get hurt.”

  “You think I’m going to let you just walk away? After what you took from me?” She seemed to hurl the words at him like bullets, as if the impact would be enough to make him want to curl up and die.

  Rotor blades of a helicopter beat the air in a deep throbbing rhythm, the aircraft heading in their direction. Travis tried to draw Jean’s attention to him. “Took from you? What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about Phillip. Money. My ticket out of this hell-hole.”

  “He was going to kill us, Jean. What were we supposed to do?”

  Jean swung the rifle in his direction. “It was all your fault. You set everything in motion. You’re responsible for his sister getting killed.”

  “I can’t change the past. If you want revenge, you’ve got me. Let the others go.”

  The helicopter drew closer.

  “I want you to suffer for taking Phillip away. I want you to feel pain before I kill —”

  A helicopter crested treetops and a searchlight bathed them in dazzling-white blindness. He saw Jean glance up and knew she’d be momentarily blinded.

  He lunged to his feet and tried to dash toward the killer. His feet stumbled over a rock and he almost lost footing. He quickly regained balance, only to see Jean swing the rifle toward him.

  A shot exploded. Jean jerked back as if struck in the chest.

  Another shot echoed to his left.

  Baptiste rushed forward, gun in hand. He fired two more times at Jean. Her body twitched as each bullet struck home.

  Travis approached and saw Jean staring up at the hovering helicopter, the aircraft still bathing them in light. Jean glanced back at him for a moment with a look of hate before she ceased to move. Her lifeless eyes stayed locked on him.

  Travis signaled a Code-4 at the helicopter crew. The craft veered off to settle in the grassy meadow fifty yards further down the hill. A figure jumped out and dashed toward him.

  John Steele.

  “Had a devil of a time tracking you. Frank told us you headed up in this direction, but our heat-tracking camera came up empty the first few times we did a fly-over. It wasn’t till we topped those trees this last time our cameras picked you up. By then it was too late.”

  Travis watched Baptiste standing a few yards away. “If it wasn’t for him, I’d be face-down in the dirt right now.”

  Steele shook his head. “Started out I thought he might be one of the shooters. ”

  Travis shrugged. “Me, too.” He patted Steele on the back. “Thanks for the back-up.” He began walking toward Baptiste. As he approached, he extended a hand.

  “Thanks for saving my bacon, officer. Much obliged.”

  Baptiste’s eyes narrowed, his hands remaining at his sides. “Still think I’m involved?”

  Travis glanced over as a deputy stood over the dead woman’s body. “I’d say all this tells me you’re one of the good guys.”

  “I didn’t do it for you, professor. I did it for the chief and—” He let the sentence drop without continuing.

  Travis saw Jessie talking to one of the deputies. “Officer Baptiste. Something is still bugging me. So … I’ll just ask you straight out.”

  “What?” Baptiste gave him a wary look.

  “Frank and I —”

  “Chief White Eagle.” The man’s face hardened. “His name is Chief White Eagle.”

  “Okay, Chief White Eagle.” Travis tried again. “The chief and I found a notation on Tommy’s computer where he’d typed ‘Re: Jessie’s Problem’ a few days before he disappeared. At the time, we thought he meant you.” Travis waited for the officer to speak.

  A puzzled look crossed the man’s face, then he smiled. “Oh, yeah. Tommy probably meant me.”

  “So you acknowledge you’re Jessie’s problem?”

  “Was Jessie’s problem. In Tommy’s eyes the matter had been handled. He knew his dad spoke to me about it a year ago. We settled things between ourselves after he knew Jessie and I were a thing of the past. Maybe Tommy did not want to put my name down on the computer, so he used those words to identify me.”

  “So you did meet him just before he —”

  “Yeah. His buddy, Axtell, was having problems with a guy. Tommy got the crook’s name from Pete and asked me to check him out without the chief finding out.”

  “And did you?”

  Baptiste hung his head. “No. I never got around to it. Tommy disappeared right after that. Then you guys started thinking I was the shooter. That just ticked me off and I forget all about it until everyone turned up dead. By then I figured it was too late.”

  Jessie walked toward them and reached out and touched Baptiste’s arm. “Thanks, John.”

  Baptiste tensed for a moment before nodding. He turned away without saying a word. Travis watched him start up the hill, finally disappearing into the brush.

  “I can’t figure him out, Jessie.”

  She took his hand in hers. “Neither can I.”

  Sam brushed against his leg. “I guess Sam’s telling us it’s time to go home. Steele knows where to find us.” They collected their weapons and equipment and began the trek down the mountain.

  “Let’s see how Frank’s doing.”

  Chapter 79

  Lochsa River, Idaho

  Travis felt an adrenaline rush as his kayak stayed afloat. Jessie held her position downstream, waiting, as he finally cleared the Grim Reaper a second time without capsizing. Just three months ago, these same rapids turned him upside down and buried him in ice-cold water.

  Today, he conquered it once again.

  “Hey, Willie-boy. Not bad.” Jessie grinned as she paddled toward him.

  “Thanks. I’ve got a great teacher.”

  “Face it, professor. You’ve got the best.”

  “And yet, so humble.” He laughed as she made a face. “Let’s take a break. I brought lunch.”

  They pulled to the bank and dragged their kayaks onto the rocky shore out of reach of the current. The blue sky, heavy with late-summer heat, made the day near perfect.

  He selected a large
flat rock where he laid a lunch box, pulling out a bag of Kentucky Fried chicken and a couple cans of cold soda. Next to them he placed, several paper plates, bunches of Concord grapes and two candy bars.

  “You must have spent ages in the kitchen,” Jessie said, looking skeptically at the food.

  “All finger food. My favorite. And no dishes.” He started on a drumstick.

  Jessie grabbed the grapes, popping one in her mouth. “You really need a woman. It’s scary thinking of you surviving all these years on your own.”

  “Hey, I managed.”

  Travis saw her expression change, a smile turn to a frown. She looked out over the river, holding the grapes in her hand. “Where do we go from here, Willie boy?” She turned and looked at him.

  He weighed each word carefully as if he was treading on a precarious bridge suspended over a chasm. Each word he chose might send him crashing. “Wherever here might be,” he said, “I want you in the picture. And you?” Just as quickly, he’d shifted the question back to her. Her answer meant everything.

  Jessie looked away without answering.

  All summer Travis and Jessie seemed to avoid this inevitable conversation. Frank healed and returned to work. Life returned as close to normal as all these events allowed. He and Jessie became friends, and when he was away he found himself thinking about her. But each time he returned, it seemed they needed to readjust to each other because whatever might be between them had not been settled. Never clearly stated. As if each of them were trying to figure out what the future held without actually talking about it.

  Today, Jessie seemed determined to settle this thing.

  To celebrate the summer’s end, she had suggested they take one last trip down the Lochsa. The river ran mildly slow this time of season, nowhere near the threat of a few months ago. And here they were, traveling the same river that first brought them together. The end of summer flows were tame compared to what they faced a few months ago.

  Jessie glanced at the sky before speaking, her voice drawing Travis back to the present. “I want us to be together, Travis. Does that scare you?”

  “Scare me?” He saw a quizzical look on her face. “Yeah. But in a good way. After all that happened, I feel that if we stick together — you and I — we just might survive.”

  “You talking about us or surviving this river?” Her smile returned.

  “Both … Pocahontas. Let’s see what’s around the next bend.”

  Laughter seemed to dance from her eyes. “Okay, Willie boy, you sure you’re ready?”

  He watched the river for a moment, locking this point in time in his mind. “Yeah, I’m ready.” Travis stood and took her hand. “Come on. Let’s get started.”

  Together they walked toward the river. An eagle flew over as they climbed back into the kayaks. He saw the majestic bird circle once and then dive, snatching up a trout that swam too close to the surface. Watching the bird, he thought of Jessie’s last name and realized he never asked her how her family came to be called White Eagle. He’d have to find out one of these days. There was a lot to learn about Jessie, her people, and this land.

  He paddled out to the middle of the current and waited for her to catch up. A hot August sun beat down upon the river and the water looked cool, clear and inviting. As she drew near, they turned and began the trek downstream side by side. Like the river that flowed past his cabin, his life seemed to have escape those eddies of stagnation, finally moving forward with a promise of hope. Darkness of the past slowly slipping away as the future began to take shape. Maybe for once his life would become like the river he loved.

  Clearwater.

  Acknowledgments

  A novel is never a solitary journey, although the author may believe so at times. Many people came along side during this trek to offer helps, advice, and needful warnings. Travis and I may be a little waterlogged by the Clearwater River, but we are mindful of everyone’s help given on and off the page of this novel. We want to recognize all those who made this journey less painful.

  First and foremost, I want to recognized my wonderful wife, Katie — a published poet, a Renaissance woman, a great editor, and my best friend. Her careful editing has pulled me back from the abyss of some terrible and embarrassing mistakes.

  My friend, James Scott Bell, whose encouragement and mentoring allowed me to believe people can learn to create novels. Carole Neal, for her insightful comments. Francine Rivers, whose help, advice, and writing showed me what the future might hold for other writers. Further thanks to Angela Hunt, for her patience and willingness to train others. To Laura Jensen Walker and Jeff Gerke — along with many others that space precludes from mentioning — for their advice, encouragement and editorial assistance.

  I would be remiss if I did not express thanks to Dr. Donna Paul, economic professor at Washington State University, for sharing with me a little insight in the world of academia through the eyes of faculty. Any deviance from the real world rest solely on my shoulders. In the interest of story, I may have taken allowances that might never happen at WSU — or might they?

  Gratitude to river guide Tonya Lyons, whose knowledge of the river helped this story and this author through several rapids, and for pulling me out of the whitewater more than once.

  Thanks to writers Joe Konrath and Aaron Patterson, whose motivating blogs for authors has encouraged this writer to launch out as an Indie publisher in this new digital age. The future looks bright for authors.

  Lastly, I want to express heartfelt appreciation to all those who helped me gain a deeper understanding and appreciation of the Nez Perce Nation. Chief Leslie Hendrick of the Nez Perce Tribal Police, helping me to understand the difficulties of navigating her law enforcement agency between two worlds, two cultures, and the challenges faced by her officers every day. Dr. Robin Johnston, archeologist with the U.S. Department of Forestry Services, whose research over thirty years of the Native American cultures gave me a glimpse into this brave Nez Perce nation. Attorney J.Heidi Gudgell of the Nez Perce Office of Legal Counsel, who help me understand the complexities of water and fishing rights held sacred by these peoples. I may not have got it right, Heidi, but I tried. Reverend Art Finney of the Second Native American Presbyterian Church in Kamiah, Idaho, who shared spiritual struggles between his church members and the culture at large. To Olivia Jackson, and her mother, Colleen Lupe, whose Nez Perce heritage came alive as they shared the present and past of their fascinating culture. To Livi, may the voices of the past cease to haunt those living in the present. Finally, to the Nez Perce people who have struggled and survived against insurmountable odds and injustices — may your journey finally bring peace.

  Coming Works by Mark Young

  Off the Grid: A Gerrit O’Rourke Novel

  (Scheduled for Release, Fall 2011)

  Can a hunted man lose himself in this age of technology. His life may depend upon it …

  Detective Gerrit O’Rouke has little to lose. Parents killed in an accident ten years ago drove Gerrit to leave the sterile environment of the academic world and become a Seattle homicide detective. Specializing in cold cases, he tries to hunt down his parents’ killer and learns that nothing is as it seems. A beautiful federal prosecutor has her eyes on Gerrit, as they team up on a puzzling federal RICO case that begins to unravel. An attempt on Gerrit’s life reveals that powerful men have decided he must die for secrets he just uncovered. To survive, Gerrit must shed his identity to survive in a technological world where hiding is almost impossible. He must learn to live Off The Grid in order to survive and fight another day. As this new world opens up, Gerrit finds out there are many kinds of warriors living in this gray netherworld of technological warfare. He must learn who can be trusted and who might stab him in the back.

  Broken Allegiance: A Tom Kagan Novel

  (Scheduled for Release, Spring 2012)

  Another murdered gang member is found lying in a Northern California vineyard as homicide Detective Tom Kagan investigates what appears
to be just another gang killing. As Tom begins to dig beneath the surface, explosive events begin to spark more violence until the very ones he loves become threatened. Tom is haunted by a tragedy in his past — a nightmare, threatening his marriage, his work, and even his own sanity. Meanwhile, Tom must learn who is pulling the strings on these killings before more bodies fall. Timing becomes everything as Tom races to find answers before he loses everything.

  Shadows: A Tom Kagan Novel

  (Scheduled for Release, Winter 2012)

  An armed robbery heist in the Pacific Northwest turns up what appears to be an innocuous lead in Northern California. Santa Rosa homicide detective Tom Kagan volunteers to follow up on this lead for an old friend. What he uncovers is a conspiracy that might have national repercussions. Meanwhile, a power broker learns that Tom has uncovered a closely guarded secret and unleashes a campaign to discredit and destroy Tom’s career — maybe his life. As Tom fights back, he tries to save a mother and child whose lives are tied to the detective’s troubled past. An event is about to be triggered that may change all their lives — in one, explosive moment.

  Revenge

  All rights reserved

  Copyright © 2011 by Mark Young

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