by Kate Merrill
“Jesus Christ!” Matthew swore.
She leaned forward in her seat, as if her body could somehow catapult them up and over the rise, but as the wheels kept spinning to gain one inch of progress, they kept slipping one foot backwards towards the deadly drop.
“I want you to ease yourself out of the truck, Diana.” Matthew’s face was a study in terror.
“No, I won’t leave you!” She squeezed her eyes shut and fought off his efforts to reach across and open her door. He wanted her out of harm’s way, but she was sure her sudden exit from the vehicle would upset the balance, causing Matthew to plunge over the abyss.
“Do it now, Diana,” he begged, but eventually he ceased arguing and started gently pumping the accelerator.
In the meantime, Diana prepared to die. Anguish burned through her heart as she clung to the dash and prayed for their salvation, but then suddenly, the tires dug in and propelled them up and over the rise. For one suspended moment, they were in flight, floating on air, but then the front wheels hit rock and sent them careening on a roller coaster ride down the cliff side.
“Hang on!” Matthew gripped the steering wheel as the truck listed sideways.
First Diana heard an explosion, like gunshot, as the right front tire blew out, then the scream of tearing metal directly under her seat. They were skidding downwards at lightning speed, sparks flying as the wheel hub ground on rock.
“Put your head down between your knees!” Matthew shouted as they hurtled towards a pine forest.
This time she obeyed without question. When the impact came, her ribs compressed inward and she couldn’t breathe.
Silence. When she regained consciousness, she was aware that the truck was canted at an odd angle, nose down. She heard an angry gang of crows squawking overhead and believed she was dreaming. But when she dragged her eyes open, she saw a man slumped in the driver’s seat. “Matthew?”
A trickle of blood seeped from a nasty gash above his left eye, and then he began to speak. “That must have been the second ridge Miss Mattie warned us about, because from now on, all we got is our own two feet.”
Suddenly, Diana understood the harsh reality and relived the crash. Obviously, Matthew’s head hit the steering wheel. Maybe he had suffered a serious concussion? Every instinct told her to get them out and away from the truck. “Let me help you, Matthew…”
Oblivious to her aches and pains, Diana exited in a flash and half dragged Matthew to safety. Somehow they staggered across the field and settled on a fallen log some distance from the wrecked Ford.
“What happened…?” At first Matthew was disoriented and couldn’t place himself in time or space, but then his eyes seemed to focus. “I have a spare tire,” he mumbled. “But from the sound of it, either the oil pan or the exhaust system got torn up.”
His words were slow and jumbled, his face unnaturally pale. Diana pressed her fingers to his lips. “Don’t talk, Matthew. You’ve been hurt, give me your handkerchief.” She could count on this man for many things, including a pure white cotton hankie, which he carried at all times.
He fumbled at his pocket, so she reached in and fetched it for him. She wiped away the blood and saw that the wound was superficial, thank God. But at the same time, he had received a severe blow. As she folded the handkerchief on a diagonal and bound his gash, bandanna-style, she still worried about a concussion.
He grabbed her hand when she finished and held on tight. “Quit fussing, I’m all right. But what about you, Diana?”
She rolled her neck, squared her shoulders, stretched one leg, and then the other. Miraculously, all parts seemed in reasonable working order. “Good as new,” she told him.
“Are you sure?” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close.
She nodded, rested her head against his chest and wondered--- what next?
He kissed her softly on the lips, then stroked wisps of hair from her eyes, tucking them behind her ears. “Life with you is one hell of a ride, Diana.”
“Oh yeah? Whose fault is that?” She kissed him back, then protested when he rose abruptly to his feet. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“I need to inspect the damage.” He walked unsteadily towards the truck, lay down on his back, and then scooted under the vehicle. “I was wrong. There’s nothing serious broken under here, only a busted tailpipe. Will you hand me the tool kit, Diana? It’s behind the seat.”
“Absolutely not! Come out this minute, Matthew. I mean it!”
He took his sweet time, but when he finally rolled out, blood had seeped through his bandage. “Are you trying to kill yourself?” she asked. “We need to find Juan, but you won’t be much help if you’re dead.”
“Okay, okay…” Matthew spread his hands in a gesture of peace. “Now let’s find us some bluebird houses.”
The going was tough and light was fading fast. Matthew moved slowly, obviously in pain, but he was the best spotter of bluebird houses. These houses were primitive wooden structures nailed to available pines or abandoned fence posts. They were deliberately spaced one hundred yards apart, just as they should be.
“Leona can’t be all bad if she set up this bluebird trail,” Diana mused. “Mattie claims Darryl built the houses, but Leona placed and tended them.”
Matthew grunted. “Nature and human nature are two different things. Just because Leona loves birds, doesn’t mean she’s not a murderous, cold-blooded kidnapper.”
Mattie had cautioned them to keep a sharp eye out for the still house. It was built of weathered wood to blend in with the surrounding forest and located on a hill overlooking all the approaches, so the bootleggers could spot the revenue officers well in advance. Problem was, this territory was blanketed with forested rises, any one of which might conceal the shack and Leona’s pointed rifle.
“Let’s make some noise right now,” Matthew advised. “We don’t want Leona thinking we’re sneaking up on her, otherwise she’ll assume we’re the bad guys.”
“She won’t shoot at us,” Diana said. “She’s not violent.”
“Neither is a mama raccoon,” Matthew countered. “But back her into a corner when she’s protecting her young, and she’ll tear your eyes out.”
This said, they both started calling out Leona’s name and waving their arms. Soon Diana spotted a glimmer of light beaming from a dark grove on the eastern rise. Just as quickly, the light disappeared.
“I saw something, Matthew.” She pointed. “Right over there.”
Still hollering and waving like a pair of fools, they approached the phantom light. Sure enough, the shack was almost invisible in a camouflage of mountain laurel and wild rhododendrons. They saw absolutely no sign of life.
“It’s too quiet,” Matthew whispered. “Go easy, Diana. I feel like someone’s in there, but maybe it’s not who we think…?”
She refused to believe that Floyd had somehow beaten them to Leona and Juan, and yet her imagination ran wild. She fancied this stillness was the hush of death and that they were too late. She put that unspeakable thought aside and summoned all her courage.
“You wait here, Matthew. I’m going inside.”
“No way!” Matthew tried to tackle her, but she struggled loose and ran into the tall grass just as Leona emerged from the dark shack, her rifle aimed at Diana’s heart.
“Don’t shoot!” she screamed.
“Diana, keep your head down!” Matthew shouted. He had taken cover in the grass and was crawling towards her.
But she figured it was then, or never. “Don’t shoot, Leona!” she shrieked at the top of her lungs. “Mother Mattie sent us. I’m a friend of Juan’s!” She braced herself for the inevitable bullet searing through her flesh, and she couldn’t pull breath into her lungs as she waited for her final moment. But she heard only deadly silence and an odd, swishing noise, like a small animal, maybe a dog, rush
ing through the grass in her direction. Then suddenly the weeds parted right at her feet.
When Diana looked down, she saw a pair of filthy sneakers, then short brown legs skinned at the knees. She saw a colorful tee shirt depicting an Indian warrior, and finally, a pair of enormous blue eyes gazing up at her. The child was peering from under an astonishing frizz of spiked blond hair, and at first he bore no resemblance to anyone she knew. But then she looked closer…
“Juan? Dear God, is that really you?” Diana dropped to her knees, opened her arms, and the boy fell into her embrace.
In the meantime, as Matthew climbed cautiously to his feet, the woman standing on the crest of the hill began to sob. The tears racked her frail body as she carefully lowered her rifle to the ground.
FORTY-EIGHT
Deer in the headlights…
Diana was smothering the boy, yet she couldn’t let go. Lucky for Juan, he spotted Matthew and broke loose before she drowned him in sloppy kisses.
“Trout!” The child flung himself at Matthew, who nearly lost his balance.
“Hey, son!” Matthew caught Juan on the fly and gathered him into his arms. “You’re a hard one to track down, boy. Has someone been teaching you some fancy Indian tricks?”
“No, Trout, those people stole me!” His eyes widened and the smile faded from his face.
“Yeah, I know. Did they hurt you?” Matthew tilted up the child’s chin while keeping a protective arm around the boy.
Juan did not answer. Instead, he looked fearfully over his shoulder at Leona.
Diana followed his glance to where Leona stood at the crest of the clearing, both arms dangling limp at her sides. The wind whipped her long blond hair across her face, so Diana couldn’t read her eyes, so she climbed to her feet and slowly approached the woman, one hand lifted in a gesture of peace.
“Remember me, Leona?” The girl stiffened, but did not run. “I was at the Open House the day you took Juan.”
Leona brushed back her hair and stared. For a moment, she seemed to connect, but then lost it, a look of blank panic on her face.
“That’s okay, so much has happened…” Diana babbled reassuringly, hoping to win her trust. “We came to take Juan home. That’s what you want, isn’t it, Leona?”
Leona trembled like a trapped animal and glanced at the rifle lying in the grass.
“We just saw Mother Mattie. She told us what happened in town.”
Leona’s eyes flashed fear as she scanned the dark horizon from where they came.
“Mattie’s doing just fine,” Diana said soothingly. “She’s alone and looking out for herself.”
Leona’s mouth quivered. “You didn’t see no man poking around her place?”
Matthew stepped up beside them, holding Juan’s hand. “No sign of Floyd, Leona.”
Floyd’s name jolted the girl. Again she glanced at the rifle, just as Matthew bent over and grabbed it up. “I’ll keep hold of this, ma’am. I don’t think we’ll be needing it from here on out, though.”
Leona searched Matthew’s face.
“I know you recognize me,” he said. “I bought two wooden reindeer. We traded for lunch, remember?”
A shy grin snaked across her lips. “You’re Mister Troutman, the man who owns the store?”
Matthew nodded.
“Trout and me went fishing together!” Juan piped up.
“That’s right, son.” Matthew winked. “And there’s another big bass waiting for you out in Lake Norman. Don’t know about you, but I’m mighty hungry for a fried fish dinner.”
“I’m hungry for a Big Mac!” Juan shouted.
“Hush, child,” Leona snapped. “They’ll hear you shouting all the way back in Boone.”
Juan’s little face twisted in terror. He ran to Leona and buried himself in her skirt.
“Let’s go inside the shack, where we’re safe.” Leona started dragging Juan up the hillside.
Matthew lifted his eyebrows at Diana as they followed. Perhaps he too had noticed how Juan clung to his captor. Diana understood the concept, that victims often transferred their trust to their abductors, but this woman was no terrorist. To all appearances, Juan had not been abused. He was too skinny, his hairstyle left something to be desired, and he was definitely terrified of Floyd, but his spirit wasn’t broken. In her heart, Diana believed Leona cared for the boy. In a pinch, she would be an ally.
“Maybe one of us should stay out and keep watch?” Diana whispered to Matthew.
“Or maybe we should all leave right now…?” He looked to the forest, where the crimson sun had dropped below the tree line. “But I can’t change a tire in the dark, and we’d never find our way off this mountain until daybreak.”
In the end, they all squeezed inside the musty lean-to, a space no bigger than an enlarged closet. The place stank of mouse droppings and fermentation.
“It’s the old corn mash gone sour.” Leona nodded at a pile of rotting sacks lining the back wall.
“Leona’s grandpappy sold moonshine whiskey!” Juan proudly explained. “And this here’s part of the old machine…” He waved a rusty, lethally sharp coil at them, brandishing it like a sword as Diana watched in dismay. The boy’s education had certainly taken a bizarre turn, while the shard of metal was tetanus waiting to happen.
“Put the sword down, Juan,” Matthew commanded. “Come over here and talk to me.”
The child dropped the thing and flopped into Matthew’s lap. He fingered Matthew’s makeshift bandage. “You been fighting, Trout?”
“Nope. Diana and I tried to fly my old truck over a mountain. Instead we landed in a tree.”
“Cool!”
Diana held her tongue, determined not to judge Juan’s new fascination with violence. A little time at home with Bobby and Juanita, far away from the Clontz clan, would gentle his rough edges.
To her credit, Leona had brought clean blankets, a kerosene lamp, and a short supply of canned foods. But in spite of those perks, Diana couldn’t breathe in the cramped space. “We could use some ventilation,” she said as Leona barred the door with a heavy wooden brace.
The girl vigorously shook her head, while she kept her eye glued to the small, drilled-out peephole, which served as their only source of air.
“What about fresh water?” Diana glanced nervously at Matthew, whose skin had blanched to a death-like pallor. He seemed unnaturally drowsy as he propped himself against the wall. Even in the dying light, she could see that he was desperately ill.
“Me and the boy drank all the water in our canteens, but we can dip all we need from the creek in the hollow,” Leona said. “We can’t go out until morning, though.”
Matthew whispered something into Juan’s ear, and the boy giggled.
“Trout has to pee!” he whooped. “Me too, Leona.”
“Sorry, Mister Troutman,” Leona said sheepishly. “I wasn’t thinking clear about your needs. I reckon me and you can go down to the creek. I’ll fetch us some water, whilst you tend to your business.”
“What about me?” Juan wailed.
“You stay here and guard Diana.” Matthew wa
s firm. “We’ll take turns, okay?” He eased Juan off his lap, and using the rifle like a cane, he limped to the door.
“Do you know how to use that gun, Trout?” Juan’s eyes were round.
“Yes, I do, son.” Matthew winked at Diana. “Just ’cause I don’t own one, don’t mean I can’t shoot one.”
“Okay.” Diana thought Matthew was definitely behaving strangely. Was he responding to her plea for water, did he really need to answer a call of nature, or was he just plain delirious? In spite of everything, she trusted his judgment and didn’t try to stop them when Leona unbarred the door.
The girl found a heavy bucket and followed Matthew into the dusk. Halfway down the darkening hill, Matthew shifted the rifle to his right hand and waved at them. Was Diana mistaken, or had he also flashed a smile of encouragement?
“What about me, Diana?” Juan, who had been hanging inside the door watching the departure, hopped from foot to foot. “I really need to pee!”
“You’ll have to wait.”
“No!” The child grabbed his crotch and inched outside.
Before she could stop him, Juan bolted. He dashed away from the shack and headed for the high woods behind them.
“Get back here, young man!” In her haste to catch him, Diana burst out the door and tripped in a stand of thistle, skinning her hands and knees. “Damn!” By the time she was up and running, the boy had disappeared. “Double damn!” She cursed to the night. Her own children had led her on many a merry chase, and often she had yearned to wring their little necks. Tonight she was in no mood for games.
“Juan?” She called to the black silhouette of forest, but saw nothing. Looking over her shoulder into the valley, she spotted the pale outline of Leona’s dress and a tall figure that must be Matthew. Both were oblivious to her plight.
She squeezed her eyes shut and listened, but heard only wind in faraway branches and a nightingale begin its plaintive song. Then, at some distance, she recognized the unmistakable rustle of hooves in grass. When she looked up, the moon cast an eerie glow on what surely must be a phantom.
A white mule lumbered down the hillside, led by its tiny master.
“Juan? Come here this instant!” She could barely contain her anger as the child drew near.
“This is Gee. Isn’t he awesome?” Juan grinned from ear to ear. “I knew you’d want to meet him, Diana.”